Me when i started reading homestuck:
there are so many characters!! And theres so much fanart of even more characters!! All of these versions that I haven't met yet how will I keep track of them all???
ahh yes, that's some beautiful art of bloodswap!godtier!trickster!catstuck!Feferi. Very nice. Very nice.
I’ve had a lot of sad eridan posted recently, now have sad cronus!
It’s Christmas time in the dreambubbles, and on particular group of pre-scratch trolls has learned about it from some of the dead humans and decide that it would be a great idea to give it a try.
By some miracle of life, most of it goes off without a hitch, eggnog is had and they’ve got a fire roaring in the fireplace where it belongs, sure their tree looks a little off, but it’s still nice.
And then comes time for presents. Everyone gathers round, eager to see what everyone else has gotten for them and even this goes well up until the point where Meenah opens her gift from Cronus, the first of them brave enough to do so as everyone was sure he had gotten them something sexual, he did not. Instead he had made her and everyone else their own CDs, each with music that he had composed for them, songs that he thought fit them well.
Now how everyone came to the conclusion that Cronus’s music was awful, nobody really knows, but all of them are quite sure that it was.
If it had been someone else who opened their gift first, maybe Rufio or even Kurloz, he would have gotten an awkward thank you and the discs would later have been thrown in the trash without a second glance. But this was Meenah.
She’s cruel about it, yelling at him about how none of them like his music, about how he could’ve at least tried to get them something they’d like. At the very end she breaks the disc. Nobody else speaks up, besides Kankri rambling about triggers.
Cronus can’t take it, he runs off back to his hive where he falls to the ground in tears. None of them chase him.
The celebration tries to get going now without him, but everyone, even Meenah is now feeling a little guilty and it’s weighing on them.
And then Kurloz makes a choice that changes a lot of things. He opens his gift from Cronus, the little package wrapped up in skull themed paper, takes out the CD and without a sign to anyone as to what he’s doing, he walks over, pops it in the CD player and hits play.
Everyone expects some awful noise, Aranea clamps her hands over her ears. But then the song starts to play and it’s beautiful. Haunting, quiet notes come forth, sounds that chill them to the bone, mixed with soft soothing noises. It’s perfect for Kurloz. All of them are entranced by it and almost protest when Kurloz skips to the next track labeled Kurtuna.
It’s different this time, electronic notes mixed in with haunting noises in such a way that they blend, bringing the perfect balance of excitement and spooky calm. Kurloz takes the disc out. He turns and gestures to Kankri to hand him his CD.
This time it’s a modern tune with words in languages they don’t understand. It’s active and almost angry sounding, often repeating and fading into white noise. Almost randomly whistle noises will blow through.
Slowly, Kurloz makes his way through the discs. Each song fitting near perfectly to it’s owner, and as they go on it becomes clear how much effort was put into these. Guilt is rising. Even Meenah song is played with chuckle-voodoos holding the pieces together.
Mituna’s is last, and much like the other’s the first track fits him quite well, but the second track is strange. It’s slow and classical, smooth with moments that might be cheekiness. Mituna is strangely silent through it.
When it ends, Kurloz turns of the CD player and he doesn’t need handsigns to communicate what all of them already know.
‘We need to apologize’
So off they all go to Cronus’s house, Mituna still quiet. When they arrive though, it’s to an empty home with violet tear stains on the floor. His house is littered with broken and smashed music equipment, and they find his computer barely working with hundreds of raw files and different versions of those songs he made them, only then to they figure out how much work he put into them.
Everyone starts searching for him in the house, it’s huge so it might take awhile. Everyone but Mituna.
Mituna has a strange feeling, like a memory hidden behind a wall that’s whispering to him, it has been since he heard the second song. He doesn’t search in the house, but slips out to the forest behind the house.
Following those whispers of memories long escaped from him, he wanders through the forest until he finds a old tree house, it’s familiar but he doesn’t know why. He can hear sobbing coming from above him so up the rope ladder he goes and there he finds Cronus, tears pouring from his eyes. He’s curled up in the corner, clutching something wet and papery to his chest.
When Mituna enters the treehouse, Cronus looks up, and for one moment, Mituna can see relief in his eyes, as if he had been waiting for Mituna to show up. But that Relief turns to cold memories and he puts his eyes down to his feet, not wanting the other to see him weak like this.
“Howv’d you find me?” Cronus asked. His tone bitter, as if Mituna had taken something from him.
Mituna thought for a moment, then said the only think he could think of.
“I don’t know. My feet moved on their own.”
His tone was quieter then normal, and it caused Cronus to look up, some sort of long lost hope flaring up.
Instinct took over Mituna once more, and he moved to wrap an arm around Cronus, who leaned into him. There were no pale or red feelings here, just one friend comforting another one. Words came to Mituna’s mouth, he didn’t understand them but he said them anyways.
“I’m thorry I’m not him.”
Cronus’s shoulders slumped, and Mituna wasn’t sure why, but a few more tears slipped out from his eyes. They weren’t the violent sad tears though, they were tears of something, or someone lost forever.
“It’s okay.” Cronus said under his breath.
And were Mituna to look at the photo that Cronus held crumbled up in his hand, he would have seen a younger version of himself, wearing a loose shirt and a silly looking beanie and a younger Cronus with a smile so childish and bright others would insist it must be someone else. Each would have a guitar in their lap, baring the other’s colors and signs and at the center their hands would meet, forming a heart.