#janedamara

[homestuck-fanauthor-coalition]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

@dave2olkat

You meet with HER one cold morning of late November. It’s the winter season on the hemisphere where the offshore mining platform is located. The brutalist metal structure rises from the waves as one of the few examples of complex civilization on the entire planet. You’re here to mine for toplivo rust, the petroleum oil of the 24th century. This is a state owned enterprise, as is every enterprise.

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Mature

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:  F/F, Other

Fandom: Homestuck

Relationships: Jane Crocker/Damara Megido, Jane Crocker/Jake English/Roxy Lalonde/Dirk Strider, Eridan Ampora & Jane Crocker

Characters: Jane Crocker, Damara Megido, Eridan Ampora

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Soviet Union, Alternate Universe - Russia, Humanstuck, Butch Jane Crocker, Trans Jane Crocker, She/Her and He/Him Pronouns for Jane Crocker, Bisexuality, Polyamory, Femslash, Inspired by 'Monstrous Regiment' by Terry Pratchet, Butch/Butch, Bigender Jane Crocker, Parenthood, Friends to Lovers, Non-Linear Narrative, Trans Character, Trans Male Eridan Ampora, LGBTQ Themes

An entrant in the Homestuck Fan Author Coalition's November 2024 Competition Side A: Bus Driver Eridan. It also participated in Side B: Rarepair.

Awards:

[caliginousartist-blog]

JaneDamara drabble.

Your name was Jane Crocker, and you were sad and hurt, alone, that’s what you felt. It was an unwelcome feeling and you still felt it as you fell asleep, when you woke up you were the same, it was a rough repetitive nagging at the back of your mind that wouldn’t go away, it stayed there like… like… a tumor. That’s practically what it felt like, and it was horrible. You were sobbing into your knees silently, your chest shaking with each cry that wrenched itself from your throat, struggling to be free of the confine. Your glasses might break eventually, but you couldn’t care less. Actually, you could. That was proven to you when a troll walked up to you, speaking in some foreign language that you couldn’t decipher, was that Japanese? It seemed roughly spoken, a terrible dialect when spoken by her obviously. You looked up at her with puffy red eyes; they nearly matched the red of her robe. It was distasteful that smirk she wore, but soon that smirk was on your lips as she reached down, grabbing the front of your shirt and pulling you to your feet, in her kiss there was mostly lust, for someone. She had been alone like you, and neither of you wanted that, so your tears mixed with her lipstick as you tentatively kissed back, letting go of all the terrible loneliness and losing yourself against her.

It was requested and thus I filled it.