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Weasel's New Home	By : GreenGargles Category: Web Comics > Homestuck Views: 1608 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own Homestuck or The Animals of Farthing Wood, and I do not profit from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-Weasel's New Home
- 1
Karkat was drawing huge testicular agglomerations on old pictures of himself when he saw the weasel. She was a fine weasel, lithe and streamlined like a sprig of bulrush caught in a river's tumultuous flow. Before Karkat's naked eyes, she sat up on her tawny haunches and spoke:
“'Ere – you're not Adder!”
Karkat paused, his pencil trembling in his hand. He wanted to obey his first impulse – to find some sort of hook for his sarcasm and use it to start a nice comforting rant, but he was actually lost for words.
Apparently concerned for the whereabouts of her friend, the weasel called out - “Adder? Where've you gone? Awwwww....” She turned back to him. “You haven't seen her, have you? She's the scary one who kills people without any obvious remorse but cares about everyone more than she'll admit.”
Karkat saw the hook dangling in front of his eyes, and took it. “WTF? THAT'S VRISKA, YOU POINTLESS SAUSAGE-RAT!” But his curiosity got the better of him. “WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE, ANYWAY...?” And then, “YOU... UNFEASIBLY FURRY PIECE OF PIPING”, he added for good measure.
“I don't know”, said the weasel, “I was just minding me own business in White Deer Park, all curled up with Adder like usual, when I think I got bounced off the Earth by a meteor!”
“OH,” Karkat had to admit, “THAT EXPLAINS IT.”
“Ohhhh, what am I going to do?” moaned Weasel, “I spend ages travelling to a new home, and as soon as I get there, I'm propelled off into space. It's not fair!”
Karkat fought off the impulse to give her a conciliatory hug. “WHY DON'T YOU STOP WHINGING FOR A SECOND,” he said, “I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH YOUR VOICE MAKES ME WANT TO BITE THINGS. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN GOOD FOR, ANYWAY?”
“No-thing!” wailed weasel, “I'm all lost and it's not even my fault!”
Just then, a flea jumped out of weasel's fur and landed on Karkat. Hopping around like a piece of popcorn on a hot pan, or maybe just a really tiny grasshopper, it made its way into Karkat's pants. “AAACK,” cried Karkat, “WHAT THE EVERLOVING SHIT WAS THAT? DON'T TELL ME THAT WAS ONE OF YOUR FREAKY EARTH BABIES OR SOMETHING!”
Weasel knew exactly what to do. She had eaten many fleas in her life, and she was part ferret on her mother's side. Bottling her tears for the time-being, she indicated what would need to happen: “I'm going to have to go up the leg of your pants,” she intoned.
“YES, SURE, WHATEVER,” Karkat retorted, starting to panic at the subtle gyrations of the flea, “YES, PLEASE, COME INTO MY PANTS, DO IT NOW, PLEASE DO IT!”
Weasel took a deep breath and plunged into the bottom of one leg of Karkat's pants. Working her way up past knee and over-tensed muscle, she brushed aside the curtains of cotton from a long-dead world and explored the humid chamber at the top, with its magnificent basalt statue that she momentarily took to be a stylised Adder. But the flea was nowhere to be seen.
“IT'S IN MY ASS! IT'S IN MY ASS,” bellowed Karkat, almost in triumph.
Weasel's muffled voice reverberated through Karkat's body from the region of his groin. “Would you like me to get it out for you?”
“OH, YES”, cried Karkat, in an ecstasy of affronted rage.
Weasel took the plunge, diving into Karkat's ass with abandon. Given the complete absence of natural light sources, it was gloomy and brooding in the tunnel, but Weasel had a keen sense of smell, so the journey she now made was like an intrepid trip through the myriad-hued core of a toy kaleidoscope. It brought back happy memories of the day that Badger had gathered all of the animals into his sett to discuss the escape from Farthing Wood – with wry satisfaction, weasel reflected on the multifarious parallels between that situation and the one that she now found herself in. A volley of her characteristically whimsical laughter - “Aaa-hahahahahahaa!” - escaped from her throat in spite of the high atmospheric pressure of her newly-adopted habitat. Corkscrewing through the moist vortex of flesh that stretched and pulsated before her, she found herself secretly hoping that she would be unable to find the offending flea – that her search would never end.
Karkat was secretly hoping for the same thing, and despising the impulse that made him feel that way. He raged at all of the alternative iterations of himself for leaving him to be the one who had to live through this experience, and at his current self for so enthusiastically entertaining it, at a time when Jack could appear at any minute and murder everyone. Bracing himself against a chair, he settled down to a good bout of shouting and gnashing his teeth incoherently. So absorbed was he in this ritual that he didn't even notice when the door to his room slid open.
Kanaya took a moment to appraise the situation. “Is It Possible That You Are In Some Difficulty Karkat” she enquired.
Karkat gave her a glare of glorious agony, his eyes burning with a cold fire. “YES KANAYA, THERE IS A WEASEL IN MY ASS AND I HATE MYSELF FOR IT. THIS IS ME, BEING ME. I AM KARKAT – HEAR ME KARK!” (“karking” was a neat little piece of terminology that he had made up to describe the passionate ragegasms he was subject to).
Kanaya calmly left the room, closing the door gently behind her. As she regressed down the corridor, she could hear the sounds of rapturous frustration echoing away into the cavernous future.
- 1
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Weasel's New Home