#cobaltwrites

[mitunasbulges]

and I liked it so much I threw it up onto my AO3 so definitely worth checking out if you have a couple minutes

A bit of exposition for my Summoner rp blog that can stand alone and still sound cool 

It's pretty short too but I really liked it so yeah 

[mitunasbulges]

You could look at the educational system as cake. 

Let's substitute education and information for cake.

Once, back when the country was just starting, there were little bitty school houses that had some kids inside. There was a single cake, a lot of them were different from school to school, and quite a few were a bit spoiled or incomplete. Still, they cherished this cake, cutting it into little bitty slices and dividing it amongst the students so they may cherish it. 

Then the educational system began to grow, until we reached a sort of middle period. Everyone could get a cake to themselves! This was unavailable to them before, so of course people worked hard to earn their cake, and they cherished it dearly and savored it for the rest of their lives. In those days, getting a cake for yourself was very important, and was something earned through honest work; however, people were learning from their cake, having fun, and bettering themselves as they worked towards it. 

Then, we reached a funny time in the educational system-- now. If fifty years ago everyone had one cake to themselves, today, each person would have to eat three or four cakes daily. The people in charge are constantly comparing their cakes with other countries' cakes, trying to adapt the recipe and make it better for their students. Students get buried in cake after cake after freaking cake. There's a cake for this, a cake for that, weird flavored cakes and cakes that don't make much sense. There's also a bunch of cakes that aren't really applicable in the so called "real-world" once you leave high school. And, every day, students have to go to school and eat cake after cake after cake, trying to keep up with impossible demands. These cakes no longer become cherished, but rather tolerated; to eat so much cake day after day becomes tiring, infuriating, and sometimes confusing. Its no surprise people grow so sick of the cakes they don't want them, or become apathetic to them.

If a person is told they have to eat hundreds of cakes to qualify as a normal person, they would seem eager at first. Who wouldn't want cake? But then, after so much cake that doesn't seem to be doing any good, a person feels like they've wasted their time and energy eating all this cake. It becomes a pointless act of monotony that a person generally would not find enjoyable. 

Thus, can you really blame students for growing apathetic in their studies, or for turning away from educational opportunities? 

Yes, let them eat cake-- however, do not shove it down their throats.

[mitunasbulges]

Beginning of a gift fic? I think so

inspired by these posts right here, parts one and two of a one shot done by pirouette-off-the-fucking-handle (aka keep-it-personal). 

Genderswap Karkat fiddling with technology he shouldn't, soon to be followed by "Gender-swapped Karkat Being Harassed By One Sollux Captor" and "Gender-swapped Karkat Cursing His Luck For Actually Enjoying This Bullshittery" 

stay tuned for more /or something

The aftershock is still buzzing in his limbs, electric impulses causing everything to twitch and jerk involuntarily. Oh God, he’s going to throw up he feels sick and dizzy and oh fuck he’s going to throw up—

Weak limbs manage to lift the trembling torso off the floor, coming to rest on his elbows; in a haze Karkat stares blankly at the metal, paneled floor before him, contemplating what the fuck just happened.

He doesn’t have much time to do this, however, because he’s quickly sent spiraling into a fit of spasms and hurling chunks.

Weakly he pushes himself into an upright position, brain muddled as he attempts to sort out the series of events leading up to him sprawling on the floor.

0.14 hours prior:

Karkat Vantas stands before an old ectobiology generator and transmutafixerator. He’d already spent some time fiddling with the appearifier and sendificator variations, as well as the combined version that was applicable in the case of grub-generating. He’d always been curious about the other ectobiology machines that were scattered about the meteor, but never had much time to investigate for himself. Recently, however, Aradia had warped a pocket of space time into a temporary temporal loop, giving them some amount of time to relax before they hit the next jump in space time. Sollux said something about this being a final reprieve before shit hit the fan. He was trying not to think too hard about it, what with people scattering left and right and their impending doom looming over head. He shakes his head, forcing the thoughts of armageddon from his mind. Get it together Karkat, you’re trying to distract yourself here.

Karkat fiddles with the controls idly, watching the monitor flicker and flash. Every so often a list of commands would pop up, but every time he would attempt to enter some command or another, the screen would blank and revert to the home page. He sighs. Fucking alien-game technology shit.

The adolescent troll flips a lever, and, yet again, a list of commands appear. This time he scrolls to the bottom, barely scanning the flashing white text. At the very end of the list is one he hadn’t tried yet.

“=> TRANSMUTAGENDIFICATOR”.

Okay, why the hell not.

Karkat taps the enter button, expecting the usual result: flicker, flicker, beep, flicker, blank screen, home screen.  

A whirring starts somewhere in the mass of computer hooked up to the monitor panel; this is followed by a clicking, and the eventual chugging that was a sure fire sign of active machinery at work.

Karkat blinks, surprised. Guess that one worked after all.

There’s an apparatus set up beside the main monitor, comprised mostly of glass tubes and a singular platform. A light flickers to life inside one of the glass tubes, followed by another and another still; suddenly the entire collection of wires and glass are alive with light, the hum of electricity flowing through its metal veins.

Just as things seem to be headed towards something productive, an error message flashes on the screen.

“! ERROR:

>INVALID SUBJECT

>PREPARE SUBJECT FOR TRANSMUTAGENDIFICATION”

Karkat frowns. Wasn’t it supposed to auto-target these things or whatever? He flips the controls around for a bit, but nothing is responsive on the screen. Heaving a frustrated sigh, he kicks the plated side of the control panel, resigning to give up with the controls. Maybe there was an issue with the hardware?

He shuffles over towards the platform, eying it warily; gingerly he reaches forward, thumping the glass tubes lightly, running clawed fingertips over polished sheet metal, pausing to prod at a collection of exposed wires. He wasn’t sure how this one was different from the other machines, so he didn’t know what he could be looking for. Examining the set up, he comes to the conclusion that if there is something wrong, it’s more likely to be somewhere in the mass of wires and panels on the inner part of the platform. Nervously he glances back at the monitor. If it was displaying an error message, the system ought to be temporarily frozen right?

Karkat juts out one foot, tapping the platform, testing it. Nothing shows any sign of response. With one last tentative tap he places his foot down on the platform; still no readily visible response from the contraption. Gripping the edge of the platform, he hoists himself up, a second foot following the first. He stands up straight on the small circular dais, looking around as he tries to locate the wait what was that noise why was there a flashing light the fuck is happening

A glass barrier descends, swiftly trapping him on the platform.

Karkat, you nook suckling batter chafing Ziploc baggie of douche fuckery what had you gotten yourself into.

The lights illuminating the glass tubes begin to strobe, fueled by some sort of pulsating green electricity; a sudden shock courses through his body, lighting every nerve aflame with a searing energy, spasms wracking his frame. He screams, flinging himself to the ground. Green goo appearifies in one of the holding tanks, before quickly emptying, sucked through some sort of tube. The goop is spewed into the chamber, coating him; he flinches, curled up on the platform, still in pain from the initial shock. The goo smells thick and pungent, almost musky. Another shock strikes him, running down his back and bursting from his chest, leaving his limbs feeling numb and leaden. He isn’t really sure when he blacked out.

Present:

Karkat stares at the floor, bewildered. Some sort of muddled recounting of events is playing in his mind, doing all he can to recall exactly what it was that had happened.

Control panel, command, platform, goo, black out, wake up on the floor just in front of the transmutafixerator, throw up, curl up and huddle on the floor feeling as though every inch of your skin is a live wire.

He grits his teeth and shakes his head, trying to force his skin to stop crawling. Okay, there doesn’t appear to be any goo left on the machine. He pats his chest. Okay, no goo on himself eith—

Wait.

Wait what.

He pats his chest again. And again. And yet again.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Two unpleasantly large lumps of fat appear to be attached to his chest, and he’s pretty damn certain they weren’t there before.

Karkat scrambles to his feet only to be met with a dizzying head rush; he stumbles, nearly trips, stumbles again. He manages to make his way back to the machinery, finding it auto-shut down or went on standby or something; the monitor, a glossy black screen, provides him with some sort of reflection to examine himself with.

Breasts. Female breasts.

His figure is a bit shapelier, the gentle curve of hips prominent despite his loose shirt; his thighs have a bit more of a curve to them as well, long legs appearing to be a bit more slender than they were before. A pair of breasts are underneath his shirt, making his shirt feel uncomfortably tight and his torso a little heavier than it did before.

Fuck fucking fuckity fuck fuck FUCK.

Karkat worries at his lower lip, brow creasing and hands shaking; slowly he lifts his shirt, inch by agonizing inch, until he can take a good look at himself in the mirror. The black cotton fabric is lifted to his chin, and Karkat finds himself trying to will away tears of panic.

They’re round but not circular, an obvious weight to them making them sag just a tad to either side of his chest. They aren’t as large as vriska’s or Aradia’s, but not as small as Feferi’s—wait, fuck, was he really comparing himself to them right now?

He angrily tugs his shirt back down over his new found horrorterrors, suddenly very aware of where he is and whether or not he is alone. It takes several long moments for the realization to sink in, and even more still for him to try and come to terms with it.

He had been transmutagendificated into a girl. 

[mitunasbulges]

[mitunasbulges]

You didn't know. You were sorry. 

Everything had been swept into a whirlwind of light and noise. The sound of crunching metal scraping against asphalt rings in your ears; sunlight glimmers as it reflects off the shimmering slivers of glass that shatter on impact. You see a wide expanse of brown moving towards you. Moving towards you quickly. Moving too fast. 

Everything is enveloped in white. White noise, white static, white haze-- nothing is clear or coherent. You groan; you shudder. There's movement at your side, a wailing sort of noise; this upsets you. You groan louder, trying to cradle your head-- God, your aching head, what's even wrong why does everything hurt where are you what's going on

All of consciousness fades back into white static. At first your muscles are tensed, panic searing your veins with adrenaline; then, a calm seeps into your system, quiets your nerves. It is similar to the sensation of sinking into a bath of warm milk, white and thick and soothing. You aren't sure when you fall asleep. 

By the third time you awaken in such a manner, most of he haze has left you. It still feels as though there is something in the way, an inhibitor of sorts that is withholding important information from you. As you stir, you attempt to sit up gently, but your movements are jerky, careless-- what happened to your control? It feels as though nothing is working the way it should, nothing is responding right; when you try to move your arm an inch, it moves three. 

The wailing noise is at your side again, this time much more muted. You cringe, managing to jerkily sit upright, only for a wave of discomfort and dizziness to wash over you. Wearily, you allow yourself to flop back down on the pillow. Wait, pillow? Where are you? You can feel panic rising-- panic you don't understand, panic that only makes you even more uncomfortable-- and the sensation of being helpless wells up within you, weighing in your chest like a leaden weight. 

"Shhh, shh shh shh, Tuna babe I'm here..." The voice is soft, cooing, comforting; you can sense the panic leaving you as a warm hand strokes your hair, gently smoothing it out. You're trying to focus on the source of the voice, but nothing looks right. Everything is out of focus and hazy; everything is edged in a white fuzz and just looks... wrong. "It's chill babe, don't panic, I'm here..." An onslaught of memories attacks you. 

Teal glasses skating radical red sweet long hair dark helmet girl gaming eyes words tongue passion love

love

You love

who do y--

"... Th... Thoo.. luh..." The name is awkward in your mouth, tasting bitter, feeling as though your mouth was full of marbles and your tongue had gone numb. A choked sob comes from her this time. 

"Oh God Mituna you finally said-- said something, Jesus I c-can't..." You can hear her break down into sobs and hiccups. You think you're frowning. Why was she upset you were talking? Of course you would talk. 

"Tula bay.. bay-buh.." These words are almost worst than the last. Since when was it so hard to talk? 

" 'M fine... don' cry babe.." you stammer out, fighting with each individual syllable. 

She doesn't respond; the silence that settles in is thick and unsettling. You shift awkwardly, and for the first time you feel the gentle tug of wires in your arms, your hands, your chest. Its unpleasant. You feel uncomfortable. 

Eventually she lifts her head, taking either side of your own in her hands. Her eyes suddenly come into focus, bright, glimmering green, blood shot from crying, glistening bright with unshed tears. She leans forward, gingerly, and places a light kiss on your forehead.

"I love you."

You're confused now. 

Then, someone else enters the room-- you can see a blurry figure moving behind her-- and you wonder who they are and what they're doing here. They speak, but everything sounds like its passing through a filter, bouncing back at you from fifty feet away. Eventually your ears tune in, and you catch a snippet here and there. 

"ain damage severe an

Mister Captor is recovering physic

ay or may not recover mentall

ut therapy is an opt

on't give up hope, Ms. Pyrope." 

The nurse leaves. Latula turns to you, and her expression is clear enough that you can read the grief, the panic that has stricken her. You feel like you want to cry.

"I'm th-rthorry, T-T-Tula."

You didn't know. You were sorry. 

So, 

so sorry.

[mitunasbulges]

Of my silly solkat fic I mean

//i dont even know where im going with this help

[mitunasbulges]

So have a dead Karkat to kick things off

[mitunasbulges]

an au I want to work on later

AU I need to make into a comic ((posting so I'll remember it later))

Sollux never decoded SGRUB and life continued forward. All of the trolls grew up to fulfill their life roles.

Karkat ended up getting culled at 10 sweeps old when he attempted to enlist in the militia as a threshecutioner; after being injured during a training exercise and having his blood colour discovered, they culled him swiftly and mercilessly. 

Aradia remained deceased, a ghost haunting the trollian channel until the time when she would have been 13 sweeps. Then, drones settled in, remodeled the site of her hive, and prepared it for a new grub that would make its hive and move in soon. After the new hive was built, she was never heard from again. 

Tavros ended up taking a desk job with local law enforcement in one of the larger cities. He died at 24 sweeps during an interrogation gone wrong with a fugitive psychic that ended up slaughtering everyone in the interrogation room, Tavros included. 

Nepeta trained to join the militia, but suddenly ran away from the training camp mere days before deployment onto the ships to leave the home planet. Rumor had it she lived in caves, constantly on the run from imperial drones. She died of starvation at 54 sweeps. 

Kanaya grew up to attend the mother grub that lived in the caverns, and, eventually, her own lusus took the place of the previous mother grub that had lived for centuries of sweeps. She died of old age after living a comfortable yet lonely life at the age of 103.

Terezi fulfilled her dream of becoming a legilascerator, and eventually became a renowned and respected figure head in the legal system. However, her eventual run-in with Gamzee spelled her doom. The two engaged in combat--Gamzee a wanted criminal--and she ended up losing her life through the struggle at the age of 78 sweeps. 

Vriska became a captain of a ship for the Imperial Fleet, leading expeditions for the sake of treasure hunting. Her talents with a sword and family legacy helped boost her reputation, eventually leading to her becoming one of the most famous captains under her Condescension's rule. When Feferi took over, however, Vriska was allowed to retire on her riches--which was good timing, as she ended up fleeing the galaxy just before the Second Great Rebellion arose. She drifted through the farthest edges of space on her ship until she eventually died from a run in with pirates ironically enough, age 214 sweeps. 

Equius became a cavalreaper despite his blood caste, being incredibly talented at communing with the steeds of the militia. He eventually became the queen's number one cavalreaper trainer, his extensive life allowing for him to perfect the arts of cavalreaping and train many eager recruits. When the rebellion struck up, he fled back to Alternia, taking up a neutral stance; though he sided with the high bloods, he had long since sworn off battle, and thus was cornered and killed by a band of rogue rebels at the age of 179 sweeps. 

Gamzee became a wanted criminal on accounts of treason against the queen. When the drones arrived at his hive to recruit him, he promptly fled, leaving behind his entire life--and the sopor. As he slowly descended into a more sober consciousness, he became violent and unstable. Eventually he turned to robbery and murder for money or food in order to stay alive; he managed to stay on the run until Terezi cornered him, and though the battle was strenuous and close, he emerged the victor. He then had a price placed on his head for murdering a government employed legislacerator, and ended up stowing away on a ship that was bound for the deepest reaches of space. He managed to carry out a plan to take over the ship, and formed a band of space pirates, eventually becoming the most feared name in the pirate world. He died at 428 sweeps of poisoning when one of his crew committed a mutiny against him.

Eridan set out to become a great and mighty Orphaner, but greatly lacked the tactical skill for the job. Time and time again he tested and failed for the queen's imperial armada as an Orphaner, and, eventually, resigned to the life of a hermit on his small shipwreck island. At 23 sweeps the drones arrived, demanding he enlist in the militia under any available rank or else he would be culled; thus, he opted for the rank of Cavalreaper. He quickly skyrocketed through the ranks--being an incredible rider ((on account of riding with his lusus)) and being the best shot in the militia--until he was ranked as the top Cavalreaper in the galaxy. Secretly, however, he worked with Feferi's rebellion to over throw her Condescension. Once Feferi took control, the Second Great Rebellion struck up, and a hefty price was placed on Eridan, being the left hand man to the queen herself. He quickly took to the skies, and an ongoing chase for his head ensued. He eventually was captured and killed at age 742 sweeps. 

Feferi lead a plot to overthrow her Condescension, that of which succeeded when she turned 179; the Second Great Rebellion struck up then, leading to diplomatic discourse through out the entire galaxy. Feferi struggled to instill new rules and regulations to maintain peace, but the public lashed out in retaliation. After her moirail was killed at the hands of the rebels--Eridan--she gave up on preserving peace and harmony. She immediately set in place rules near identical to the Condescension, becoming a ruthless, merciless ruler with a true iron fist and deadly trident. She would continue to rule for hundreds of sweeps. 

And now, the icing on the cake. 

Sollux Captor was captured by the imperial drones at the age of 8 sweeps old, known as a powerful psionic. He underwent a number of physical, mental, and chemical therapies for about a sweep before being discharged from the training facility, deemed "prepared for the duties of being a helmsman". He was quickly assigned a ship and put to work immediately, though it wasn't long before he proved his abilities. The queen called for him to be brought to her ship as a particularly expensive piece of merchandise; after being hand delivered to the Condescension's ship, he was placed under lock and key in her ship, until the Psiionic died sweeps later. Immediately Sollux was put to work in his place, becoming the personal Helmsman for the queen; she made the same promise for him as she had for the Helmsman before him--life that would last as long as hers. However, he found all of it to be as dull as it ever had been; he had undergone a lot of mental alterations during his "training", but he was still aware and still capable of growing bored. He eventually hacked into a distant server, and downloaded a copy of trollian. Every day, every evening, he would log on to trollian and wait. Wait for someone--anyone of his friends to log on. They never did. Then, a fleet of rebel ships appeared on the horizon one day; a fierce battle ensued. The queen, however, was destined to fail. Even with her abilities, she could not withstand against their sheer numbers; her ship was eventually gunned down and boarded. Eridan himself discovered Sollux trapped as the ship's helmsman, and, despite his orders to take all discovered captive, happened to forget to mention the psionic that powered the ship; when he reported in, he claimed he was already dead. No one questioned him. Eventually, everyone abandoned ship and began to head home, bringing with them the good news. Sollux was left to drift through space, alone and forgotten. Still hooked into the ship, however, he managed to control the important things necessary for him to live, such as the nutrition tubes and the like. Every day, he logged onto trollian. Every day, no one would log on. He died, alone and abandoned, at the age of 762 sweeps--his life having been prolonged by her Condescension for quite some time.