Homestuck Bucket Novels & Stories

*** The room remained silent, except for Alex's conversation on the phone. 'So what is causing the dissonance?' I couldn't help but ponder to myself. Then I glanced over to Avanska and noticed there was something strange about his intense focus on... the bucket? That's where the drugs were kept. His gaze seemed unusually fixated. To confirm, I stepped into his line of sight, forcing him to frown and glance up at me. I returned a questioning look, and he responded with a reassuring smile, and I returned it.

A key jangled as she pointed it to a small padlock hooked to the door. The lock turned, and she disappeared into the darkness. A moment later, she shoved a heavy white plastic bucket with a snap-on lid into my hands. "Return this as soon as you are done with it." I gave a single nod, gripped the handle, and jogged out the front doors of the building. ************** "You have got to be kidding me, Ronan." Evelyn stood in the lobby of the lodge, her arms crossed over her chest, staring at the empty bucket in my hand with utter disbelief.

“Different path. Leave the bucket. If anyone asks why you were in the alley, you heard a horse kick the gate.” I left the bucket. I took the long way along the outer stones. Grit stuck to my palms. His cum was a slick fact between my legs. The stables received me the way they always did, warm breath, dark wood, no gold. Old Bren snored in the tack room. I sat on my cot and looked at my hands. Stone dust. A shake I couldn’t blame on cold. Tomorrow there would be a list. Names from Midsummer. Questions that smiled.

At this moment, answering verbally is a hard pill to swallow— a much more disrespectful kind of act. "But I came here with a different reason." "Oh," Hunter's energy is finally back as the mood changes. "Tell me anything." "You see, my girl has become part of the war among the Packs. She contains the moonstone." Hunter was shocked, he couldn't speak yet. He was too mesmerized, he listened closely, making sure he hears everything Jacob was saying. Some parts of it have been jotted down in his hand. What a freak to do, but hell yeah, Hunter is a freak too 'cause he's differently raised. Now, he's having this beautiful charcoal stove alone in his hut to discover some other potions left by his a

"Rev? We have purchased some horses." "Might I have a cup of juice please?" Buck Drakens asked a barmaid. By his side he had his mage's staff, Stormbringer. He took a seat by the others. "What is with you and juice Buck?" Steronick asked. "As a mage I don't take alcohol", Buck replied. "It'll ruin my body." Tom bursts put in laughter. "In that case I'll have some apple to go with mine." Buck rolls his eyes, "Haha. Very funny."

Everything would go back to normal. He cleared up the shards of glass and went into the bathroom. Buck lay in the bathtub, listening to music as he waited for the next day to come. In the meantime, Punter prepared a feast for Wilbur. Wilbur wined and dined happily with everyone, chatting up a storm. Someone mentioned Buck along the way, and it opened up a conversation about him as well. "Mister Buck's a cultivator too." "Yes, I heard he's at the Sanctuary level." "I think he's at least Emperor level. He's so powerful."

}} (( of course I have, I can feel myself grow stronger than how I was all these years of captivity, even with the chain )) {{ okay, great, I'd be right back }} I made my way up the stairs and into the lab carrying the bucket, I place them down on a table and look around, I need a way to get them into the cylinder, I walk around and notice a step ladder at the back {{ thank you Neeko }} I pushed it over to the cylinder and grabbed the bucket and climbed up the ladder and carefully poured them over into the cylinder and backed away.

“Buck. Lung cancer. He refused treatment. He has weeks, maybe days. He wanted to clear the last ledger.” She stopped a few feet away, her eyes on the key in Luther’s hand. “After you left the Claim, Stromwell’s men came. They were… thorough. They missed the thermite, but they found Buck’s personal safe, buried under the shop floor. Inside were the last two physical fragments he held. Not digital. Hard copies. Original schematics of Grier’s core server architecture, and a handwritten log of the first twelve test subjects for The Census—their names, their genetic markers.” My stomach turned. “People?”

Fair. A very small clue. Reasonable. Near the beach path. God. A pink shell bucket. Fair. Peanut's bucket. Reasonable honestly. Abandoned. God. Completely abandoned. Fair. Then Elena froze. Reasonable. Because Peanut never abandoned her bucket. God. Never. Fair. Not willingly. Reasonable honestly. Then Adrian saw it too. God. And his stomach dropped. Fair. Because now they knew. Reasonable. The girls had gone somewhere. God.

Far enough that I could breathe without jumping at every sound, far enough that I could sit in a room without planning my escape routes, far enough that I could feel the warmth of an afternoon without it being shadowed by what had happened and what might still happen. When we got home, I took the bucket from beside the door and walked to the well at the end of the road. It was a sturdy old well, built from smooth stones, with a wooden frame above it and a rope thick enough to trust. I lowered the bucket and pulled it back up full. The water that spilled over the side was cold and clean, the kind of cold that feels almost alive against your skin.