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hso_mods ([personal profile] hso_mods) wrote in [community profile] hs_olympics2012-07-22 05:33 pm
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Bonus Round 4

Mobius Double Reacharound FST - Revisited

Hi shippers! Welcome to Bonus Round 4! Bringing back a favourite from last year! (Sorry for the delay, we're very busy!)

Here’s how this is going to work: somebody will submit a selection of 3-6 songs without comment. Then somebody else will come along and create a companion fanwork to fit the soundtrack!

  1. If you are submitting a soundtrack: submit only the track listing and download or youtube links. The idea is that people should ~interpret~ your selections!

  2. You are not allowed to fill soundtrack prompts with your team's ship, nor are you allowed to fill your own soundtracks. (Filling your team's soundtracks is okay!)

  3. Soundtracks count for 5 points each, for a maximum of 100 points per team.

  4. Fills may be in whatever format you choose (except FST, of course) so long as they link the songs by mood and/or lyrics in some kind of narrative.

  5. Post your fill as a comment to the prompt post, using the title format described below.

  6. This challenge will run until 11:59PM EST August 3rd.

Title Format

If you are starting a new thread, please use this format in your title.

Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team YOU belong to; please use the characters and quadrant, not whatever portmanteau or nickname you've come up with.
If your team name is not in this format and in the title we cannot guarantee that it will be counted.

If you are filling a prompt, use this format in your title.

Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team YOU belong to; please use the characters and quadrant, not whatever portmanteau or nickname you've come up with.
If your team name is not in this format and in the title we cannot guarantee that it will be counted.

Posts not using this format in the title will be understood to be unofficial discussion posts, no matter what they contain. They, like all comments on the comm, are subject to the Wank Policy.

For prompt posts: 5 points each (maximum of 100 per team)

For Fills (as stated here)
First 5 entries per team: 30 (per entry)
Entries 6-10: 20 (per entry)
Entries 11-15: 10 (per entry)
Entries 16+: 5 (per entry)

All scored content must be created/assembled new for this round.

We would prefer that any questions about this challenge or anything else in the HSO be emailed to us at homestuck.shipping AT gmail!
slippy: ((Los Campesinos!) sounds about right)


[personal profile] slippy 2012-07-22 10:25 pm (UTC)(link)
They can move exactly as fast as they want to.

Jack finds there's no point teleporting because the Prospitian does it just as fast. He dis-and-reappears, and her sword is right there in the same instant. If instead he keeps pumping and twisting his wings around in this space, right among the mouths of the voices that had quietly screamed everybody in and out of sleep all his life, he can shape himself into something too quick to get a fight started with.

It's not as easy as everything had been since he slipped on the ring: he has to seriously fucking concentrate. He has to be aware of her behind him, but not too aware because then he starts thinking of his heartrate and of what he can catch a scent of. Nothing, that's fucking what, there's sound and speed out here and that's all.

She catches him sometimes. Of course. It's all she really wants, is the fact of the matter (his overeager heartrate tells him, the musk in his sweat says), given that she's keeping up with him so constantly and with such ease. She wants to move fast enough to catch him, he wants to move fast enough to keep ahead, and really, couldn't they meet some kind of fucking god-cat so they could both lose their shit and chow the throat out of that instead?

Hard to say how this will end. She's all teeth and considers him all target, and it seems like she intends for it to stay that way. It's all she chases after.

Jack finds it hard to say how he wants it to end. They can move as fast as they want to -- and so sometimes he's all-of-a-sudden slower, there's time to see the stars and tentacles, and then her sword is flashing out towards him with furious force. Her snarl reveals thin black lips. Her growl reverbs a different kind of song into the void.

Mostly he thinks how it's bullshit to have met an actual match in this state. What good is the Queen's fucking ring and all its legendary divine power now, huh? Would've been kind of good to laugh in her face about it - but also. Squirming all round his belly, underneath all that. He wonders if he can want other things, think shit straight into reality out of this interspace singalong, want his match to set her sword down enough so that she'll have to do it. Then again, he's up against what the Prospitian wants. He's not going to get lucky up against all that.

Maybe it would be all right just not wanting this flight-and-fight against her to end.
slippy: (star trek xi] think of something sweeter)


[personal profile] slippy 2012-07-23 12:28 am (UTC)(link)
"SWOOOOOOOOOON," Terezi announced, muffled behind her t-shirt, and did. As she struck the floor and sprawled there her iron grip on her shirt remained so that it stayed hauled up to her nose.

You'd think it would make him call her bluff! Instead Equius stood so still that the only sign of movement she perceived was of papers trembling. No doubt he was still holding the sheaf of papers he'd spent a quarter-hour thrusting at her. It was almost a surprise that he didn't start softly reading them to her so that he could brainwash her into erasing the incriminating parts of his commander's records after all.

Terezi resisted the urge to sidle her hand up and expose more of her rumble globes so he'd feel more embarrassed as people came over. He wasn't the kind of stupid that would focus on that rather than on the fact that she was supposed to be unconscious, though she forgave herself for the idea of acting as if he was. Most days, Equius seemed like every kind of stupid.

At least he carried her to the infirmary.


The medics confirmed what she had told him prior to pitching assbackwards to the floor - ensign Zahhak was too much for ensign Pyrope's strange adapted senses to deal with. She'd passed out through overstimulation at his STRONG scent and lack of oxygen because she'd tried to avoid it by not breathing.

"It izz the sweat, yes, that izz obviouzz," said one, and another, "So much sweat," in an intrigued tone. "Whyy were yyou not referred to medical after yyour physical exam, Zahhak?"

He'd strategically crushed most of the metal equipment used in the exam - sweating bullets at allowing himself to let go of his control to that extent; Nepeta said Pounce de Leon had literally used him as a salt lick afterwards, and Aurthour had looked considering as well - and the people running the test had then just excitedly asked if he'd contributed to the slurry yet.

Terezi listened to him explain, allowing himself to be downright menacing alongside his urge to please. She'd guessed right, then, and the medics were bluebloods so that he felt free to border on rude. Afterwards he showed his permit to stay and ward off anyone that might harm her as she recovered, and the medics left them in the small private bay.

Terezi waited a few minutes and then sat up and fidgeted the clamp they'd placed on her nose to a looser position. "Now I can't see anything."

"Trickery won't get you out of every situation," Equius said, savagely as if raised by a wolf - multiple wolves, even - and then, "Oh, fudge." Quiet despair; good. That was almost certainly easier to work with.

"Nepeta would love to know you're talking to me like that," she said off-hand, because that one was easy. He hunched in his chair. "But frankly, I'm more concerned that you were talking to me like I'd actually fucking change your superior's records!"

"Superior's auspistice."

"Vital information! All at once I give a whole entire shit." She spoke towards the wall but gestured to the left where he sat, so that he could be assured she didn't think him worth facing towards. "Equius. We've been in the same cohort since we were four sweeps old. Bluh bluh justice is my shtick! And, my friend, it is a fact you know it full well." (Pause for restrained drama. She loved her training in orotary.) (She'd miss it.) "We can't all give these things up the same way that you've stopped bothering with control, and throw ourselves wholeheartedly into beating everyone to death that our superiors twitched emphatically at. Or whatever equivalent our individual skillsets allow."

Silence. Such emphatic silence, though. They had never been each other's closest friends within their cohort, but she could picture very well the slump of his shoulders and the hang of his head, and...

Terezi wriggled the clamp off her nose and then flared her nostrils as she laid it down beside her. The whole cubicle was blue with his nervous sweat, even the beige of the walls taking on the tinge; he was nearly inkblot black with the strength of it, especially the soaked streak of his hair. She sighed gustily.

"You'll faint again," Equius said with the irritation that came over him easier and easier by the night, and she slipped off the cot and took a deep breath standing right beside him. Such a deep frown.

"I find blueberry delicious! I have my ways of filtering out the scent of whatever I'm trying to get an image of, and I don't know how that isn't obvious to every medic here at once. Luckily we didn't get any of the ones who can actually bother to experiment." She shrugged at the carelessness. "You are like a deeply enraged health snack to me! Be proud, as surely this is the best of your accomplishments over this past season of training, and I know you agree with me. You've been proud of a lot of fucking awful things in your life, but since we got on this cruiser, I'm quite relieved that I can pass on messages that you're not proud of the things you keep doing anyway!"

A little convoluted, but he followed, and she didn't even have to say Nepeta's name again. He gripped his head as if it would physically split and she judged the moment ripe.

"But we'll be leaving this ship soon," Terezi said, "so there's no need for me to keep doing that."

In a fresher burst of blue, he sobbed. "We can't. Unacceptable - inconceivable - stupid. We are where - it is ordained that we should be--"

"Now you're going to pass out from not breathing! That is something that will bring us closer together, and prepare us for working together towards our escape."

"Can't even be enraged when I should be," Equius said, and quite on the contrary, got visibly angry about it. "I should crush you with extreme prejudice. You have evidence - against my superior - due to, to my own failure..."

"Yes. And that is why I can blackmail you into coming with me," Terezi said kindly, and licked the air reptilian-style as the realisation and the tears came in earnest. The dreamy deliciousness spread everywhere. It would probably get a bit old if he kept it up in the shuttle they'd have to steal, but there were worse scents to defy the empire with. Worse trolls, too, after all.


"Fucking seriously! That unbelievable DEMAND of yours was the last nookblistered straw!" Terezi said as they scurried frantically to control the stolen shuttle, punching Equius in the shoulder with affection that she found merrily appalling. Perhaps she was on her way to refining that mystical art of trolling oneself. Perhaps Aradia was right and that was what all em0ti0ns really am0unted t0. "I can't believe for a bulgesucking second you thought you could damned well ORDER me to go against my every principle, on top of every other wrigglerfucking thing I was forced to do on that chumpchanged ship!"

The nano-implants he'd whipped up to help him rein in his strength were excellent. He jumped each time she swore and still didn't break a single button on the shuttle's control panel. "Not even - that's not even - a word considered foal language."

"Which one," Terezi said, mashing buttons. "Are you sure about that? Repeat it for me, Equius, and we can discuss it on our journey together."

"Gosh," he said instead, unable to take the chance, and shoved a boxful of biscuits into the appreciative mouth of the engine hatch.

Hmm. She'd been forced to watch multiple romantic comedies like this. Road trips and narrowly escaping death ... buckets were an inevitability. Terezi considered. It was always fun to act as if stories were real life! And she was alive. And so was he. And life really was worth something.

"Maybe it was really the worst word, and I should be penitent. Maybe I'll let you wash my mouth out with soap," she said with a roguish grin.

Settling into one of the control chairs with much regained composure, Equius said, "That is not actually in any way sexy."

Terezi stepped over, and then leaned in to within a dermal layer of her nose touching his and murmured, "Maybe I'll wash out yours."

Equius retracted his statement in silence and a fresh burst of sweet, slick blueberry, and let her push the button that turned the stars into blazing trails around them.


[personal profile] watchfob - 2012-08-03 05:04 (UTC) - Expand
rje: (Default)


[personal profile] rje 2012-07-22 09:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Tool - Sober song link
Metallica - One song link
Jane's Addiction - Jane Says song link
Edited 2012-07-22 21:04 (UTC)
gregariousprotagonist: (Default)


[personal profile] gregariousprotagonist 2012-07-24 02:51 am (UTC)(link)
(Grandpa Harley <3 Bro Strider)

What is democracy? What is democracy?
It got something to do with young men killing each other


War was not like hunting. There was no thrill of facing down something with fangs and claws. There was no surge of pride when you bag something three times your size and mount its head on your wall.

In the jungles of Vietnam you faced men who looked like you. Men who had homes and families and people who mourn them now that their corpse floats down the river. Here, there were no trophies to bring home with you. No prizes to proudly display in your foyer as a testament to your manhood. Instead, the images of their lifeless faces were burned into your eyelids. You did your best not to sleep.

You thought you had left all traces of humanity somewhere in the battlefield where your brothers in arms left limbs and lives. It scared you, feeling this empty. So you went looking for something to make you feel alive again.

You found it down an alleyway in a tiny village in Vietnam. He was beautiful, Soft skin, taut muscles, smoking . He reminded you of yourself before the war, before you were father to a boy you’d never met, before you’d even met Janey. It made your breath catch.

“You looking for a good time?” he’d asked when he caught you staring. The words came out oiled and practiced, something heard by hundreds of American soldiers.

You opened your mouth to apologize, explain that you’re a happily married man, and be on your way. Instead you laughed.

“If I was, I wouldn’t be here fighting a war.”

He smiled at you then, wry and without humor. He was so young, not a day over sixteen, and that alone should have sent you back to camp. But when he told you he could make your troubles go away, for the right price, you followed him into his home.


“Have you ever killed a man?” you asked, pulling on your trousers. The boy, for that’s what he was, just a boy, looked at you. “They tell you the first time is the hardest, and it just gets easier after that. It doesn’t though, it just gets worse. Every time I kill someone a little part of me dies. Do you know what I mean?”

He just stared at you, bright eyes shocking against his dark skin and hair. His English was limited to solicitations and you knew no Vietnamese. You hoped he understood.

You kissed him once more before you left, to make your troubles go away.

It was not Jane’s face that flashed before your eyes when you lay bleeding on the battlefield. Instead, you saw a boy with bright eyes and a humorless smile. In that moment, he made your troubles go away.

Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh, please God, wake me

icylily: (Default)


[personal profile] icylily 2012-07-23 12:18 pm (UTC)(link)

not really a direct relation but more about how i felt listening to the songs :D
(a one way trippy ride to shipping hell)


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[personal profile] watchfob - 2012-08-03 05:08 (UTC) - Expand
brightgray: a silly sock puppet in front of the tatami squares from TG (Default)


[personal profile] brightgray 2012-07-23 05:45 am (UTC)(link)

He says you shouldn't have come to this place.

You say but you don't want him to go.

You guess it's enough because he doesn't say much after that.
Edited 2012-07-23 05:47 (UTC)


[personal profile] ferrrox - 2012-07-23 06:19 (UTC) - Expand
myrrh_darkwing: (Default)

FILL: TEAM Eridan <3< Vriska

[personal profile] myrrh_darkwing 2012-07-25 03:21 am (UTC)(link)
the first time i saw you, with your beautiful eyes, i knew you'd be gone as soon as you could go... and why wouldn't you be? what right did i have to hold you?

love of mine, i knew someday you would die. i was only selfish enough to hope i could hold you for a while, against your will. not that i gave you much of a will, did i? maybe if we went back, now, it would be different. probably not. but i'm sure you would have learned to love me back, in time.

anyone can see the road i walk on is one paved with stolen gold. i'm the owner of a vast fortune i was never meant to have, and you know what, my love? i don't regret a thing. maybe i should. then again, there's no way that would ever happen, since if it was that easy for me to take it from them, they probably didn't deserve it in the first place.

So long ago-- so long ago that she doesn't even remember when-- people say that the great pirate (queen) Mindfang lost her only friend.

(of course, they never take into account that these tales aren't real and there is no such thing as a friendship in which someone takes over another's mind and completely annihilates all semblance of free will. friends should be equals. concubines, it seems, need nothing of the sort, but that's okay-- when you have no friends, there's no way anyone can leave you or break your heart and she should never have been so foolish as to let herself love-)

But Vriska was never a pirate queen, and it was only in her dreams that she was great...

Maybe, just maybe, there's someone out there for her.

(maybe even the same beautiful girl there was for her ancestor, as history repeated itself fatefully once again and the roles reversed-- she was never supposed to be the one who died)

So she turns her back on the world (because fuck it all for betraying her in the first place and if she's alone there isn't a damn person who can hurt her anymore) and travels down a road of madness with a heart too broken and black to (n)ever love again. Everyone else is going mad here, but maybe that's her.

Maybe she's been mad all along.

(and maybe it doesn't matter as a pair of jade-green eyes watch her go)

Re: FILL: TEAM Eridan <3< Vriska

[personal profile] rydia - 2012-07-25 06:37 (UTC) - Expand
apollosglare: (Default)


[personal profile] apollosglare 2012-07-24 12:56 am (UTC)(link)

I saw The Decemberists, so a fill was a must.
ellipsometry: (Default)


[personal profile] ellipsometry 2012-07-25 11:30 pm (UTC)(link)
You were guessing things had gone poorly when Vriska ran out of the bank yelling "get in, I'm driving us the hell out of here!!!!!!!!" but you could have never anticipated something this bad.

Well, maybe not. It is Vriska, after all. If we're being completely honest here, you're not surprised one bit.

"You know," you say thoughtfully, as she makes a sharp right turn, "I've never been in a car chase so I just wanted to take this moment of reverence to thank you for this. I sincerely appreciate it."

"Shut up Dave!" She screeches, merging fast on to the highway, "Can you be fucking useful to me for once and watch to make sure they're not gaining on me?!!"

There are two police cars after you and, to be honest, you don't think they stand a chance of catching you with Vriska driving. You let her know.

"Officer Tubby in the car on the right looks like he's still mourning the donut he ate for breakfast, and his partner in the car on the left is so old I can see the already decaying skin peeling off his wrinkled face. You're fine, babe."

She scoffs and smirks, pleased but still pushing 110 and bobbing and weaving through the cars like the she-devil she is, and you slouch back in the passenger's seat, cradling the sack of cash in between your legs.

Vriska Serket is fucking crazy.

Probably clinically, you think, but it's not exactly like the two of you, as wanted criminals, can waltz into a Walgreens pharmacy and request some 'stop-being-a-crazy-bitch' pills for her.

"Check it out Dave, those suckers are at least two blocks behind us now!" Vriska nudges you with pointy elbow and cackles as she cuts off another confused old-timer, "This is so exciting!!!"

The thrill of the chase has always appealed to her. Her grin has never faltered, not when being chased by cops through department stores, or accosted with guns or threatened with handcuffs, or even during the bank hostage situation the two of you created last year. You're actually starting to think that she botched this bank robbery on purpose because she spotted the cop cars and saw the opportunity for a car chase.

When you tell her this, she laughs, loud and high, in a way that makes you cringe and also makes your heart beat faster. "Of course I did, Dave!!"

"Well look at us," you drawl, "A fuckin' regular Bonnie and Clyde. Although I'm guessing I'm Bonnie and you're Clyde."

"You're damn right! If only I had a gun and then we could have a badass gun fight and car chase all at once."

Vriska Serket is fucking crazy. But you think you like her that way.
Edited 2012-07-25 23:31 (UTC)


[personal profile] rydia - 2012-07-26 00:47 (UTC) - Expand
apollosglare: (Default)


[personal profile] apollosglare 2012-07-24 01:32 am (UTC)(link)

All these songs just gave me alpha!John missing Rose feels.
ellipsometry: (Default)


[personal profile] ellipsometry 2012-07-27 05:32 am (UTC)(link)
You like falling asleep.

You meet a lot of people when you do, in the dream bubbles. Old friends, new friends, people who you love, people you hate. Sometimes they attack you, a foreign intruder into the only safe space the dead have left. Sometimes they greet you warmly, arms open. But you think the worst is when you meet someone who has forgotten you, or who doesn't know who you are, despite the fact that you hold them in a special place in your heart. You think you've met enough doomed Jades Johns, and Daves to last all of your own doomed lifetimes.

The space in between the dream bubbles is eerily comfortable for you, perhaps because of the unique history you and the Horror Terrors share. It's a lot like you imagine space would be: endless and quiet, and you feel as if you are floating and flying and falling all at once.

But it's not completely quiet. You can hear subtle slithers and unhappy writhing, and sometimes a shriek or scream in the far-off distance, or even a loving voice whispering your name. "Rose Lalonde..."

It's warm, though. Unlike the cold space of the Universe you've left behind, it's warm. Like a tropical island.

You see a bubble close by glowing warmly and you press your hand against the surface, breaking through slowly, unobtrusively. It's taken a while, but you've become practiced in coming and going through the dream bubbles unnoticed.

But when you break through, she's there.

"Hello Aradia." This is not the first time you've met, far from it.

"Rose." She says, smiling sweetly. You've gotten used to seeing that smile in your dreams, and it's comforting, "I know you just got here, but I was going to go on a, well walk isn't the right word, but I was going to look around. You're welcome to join me!"

Aradia was there during your first trip into the dream bubbles. She was there when you met your doomed friends and nearly broke down into tears. She was there when you spotted a glimpse of your mother, when you saw John's father, everyone. Never did she judge you for your reactions or your confusions or emotions.

"Sure thing," You say, "Anyone in particular you've been wanting to see?"

"Well," She grins, and you catch a glimpse of white teeth, "I was hoping to run into you. And here you are!"

"Me? Really?"

"You're good company! So now I have someone nice to explore with."

Aradia's smile is pretty radiant, you think. It's a pity that she couldn't be travelling on the asteroid with you all; it would be nice to spend time with her outside of a transient-horror-dream-scape.

"Shall we?" You say, reaching out your hand.

She takes it, guiding you out of the bubble, and you think that the screams of the horror terrors are particularly quiet and unnoticeable when she's with you.

(no subject)

[personal profile] veira - 2012-07-27 22:46 (UTC) - Expand
ohdeerling: (Default)


[personal profile] ohdeerling 2012-07-23 07:10 pm (UTC)(link)

Just a quick sketch! can you tell I have no idea what I'm doing
These songs mainly made me think of Rose and a night sky. So preeetty.
Edited 2012-07-23 19:10 (UTC)
unknownriot: (Default)

Fill: Team Davesprite <3 Jade

[personal profile] unknownriot 2012-07-27 08:12 am (UTC)(link)
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nextian: The icons of the four alpha kids from Homestuck. (alphachronism)


[personal profile] nextian 2012-07-24 08:12 pm (UTC)(link)
She slides onto the stool next to you and orders a whiskey sour--make it two. "And two umbrellas," she adds, turning to you. "It doesn't count as a drink without an umbrella, you know? It makes you feel like you're just indulging."

You lift an eyebrow, but one of the downsides of the sunglasses is that they kill the effect. "Have we met?"

"Do we have to?" she says. She slaps you companionably on the shoulder. "I'm a big fan of strangers. I thought you might want a drink."

The bartender pushes it your way, and you lift the drink off the hotel-branded coaster. She grimaces, and flips it, Boxcars' face soaking up the beer on the counter. "I do want a drink," you say, setting it back down. "But my brother always told me not to take 'em from femme fatales."

"You think I'm fatale?" She beams at him, putting a hand over his glass. "That's so sweet! I'm barely even, like, a vamp."

"You're barely even sixteen."

"Oh, you can talk," she sniffs, and you flush red. You pick up your glass again to cover it and hear the fizz of whatever she put in it. "How'd you get your ID, anyway? The cops don't notice you're outgrowing your pants?"

"The cops don't notice you haven't developed?"

She crosses her arms over her chest, and you roll your eyes. "Okay," you say. "What's the angle? Why'd you dope me?"

"I didn't dope you, you big paranoid," she says. She's a pretty mediocre liar. "Come on, I'll try some."

"Oh, no, sister, I know that one. Are you fingering me for something? Did you--" You pat your jacket, and pull out a set of keys you didn't have two minutes ago, and the girl's eyes widen and she slips off the stool, but you're faster than that--you've got a hold on her wrist already.

She isn't grinning anymore. "Let me go."

"Not a chance," you say. "These are to the safe in the penthouse, aren't they?"

"How the hell do you know that?" she says.

Because you were up there ten minutes ago planting a bomb and the jewels were all missing. "I'm psychic. We need to get out of here."

"I had a getaway," she says. "But it's vamps only."

"It's vamps and spooks tonight," you say, sliding your badge out of your jacket. "Ever been to Derse?"

Her eyes go huge and happy, and she twists her hand and grabs your wrist in turn to yank you off the barstool towards the door. "Born and raised! I knew you looked like my kinda guy. You from the capital? I'm from Oceanside. Kinda rundown these days but you can't beat the neighbors--" She pauses in the hotel lounge, and adds, "You're going to have to climb. You can climb, right?"

You stare at her. Belatedly you realize this is also invisible. "That convinced you?"

"Not even close, dumbass," she says. "But it got you out in the open." And with that she screams for help at the top of her lungs.

Two hours later, after a car chase, a rooftop climb, a swim in the toxic lake, and your first shower, you notice the documents are gone.

You might've lost them in the lake.

You might need to go and find yourself a jewel thief.


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megaparsecs: (terezi is pleased)


[personal profile] megaparsecs 2012-07-23 06:35 am (UTC)(link)
Your back's to the meteor and you won't be looking there any more.

There's still blood all red and teal and drippy, on your arms, your wings, and it itches as it dries and it itches, your eyes, they itch and you itch your hands itch as you clench them.

Most trolls would say, there's not a lot you can do now. But those trolls aren't you and those trolls aren't here, you're it. You make the rules now and the rules say no one's getting out alive.

Every person who's ever tried to take someonething from you has regretted it. A sucker, every single one.

You'll make him pay. You'll make them all pay and even now, hanging in the bright infinite space between then and now, between home and here, between this blasted wreck of a hidey-hole and the strange foreign clime you'll find Jack in, you know it's not going to make it better.

But your heart's on fire, that's the only way to explain it. Like someone's clenching it tight, someone's making it beat for you, and every single beat says make him pay, make him pay. Make him pay for the way Terezi's hand was limp against Karkat's chest. How her hair was in her face and her glasses were cracked and how Karkat's face was a little tear-stained and how you'll never know who died first.

Radiation and star dust burns on your arms. Your head's pointing straight ahead, and this is all that's left of you, really, this flex of your shoulders. Every other time you made someone pay.

How Terezi's eyes looked like, before.

If there's anyone who can ruin someone, it's you. If there's anyone who's ruined, it's you.

But you'll make it worth it.

(no subject)

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[personal profile] ferrrox 2012-07-27 04:26 am (UTC)(link)
holy moley, me-oh-my, you're the apple of my eye
girl, I've never loved one like you
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[personal profile] anothera 2012-07-23 12:58 pm (UTC)(link)
TW: self-injury, abuse

“I need to stop calling her.” You whispered into the receiver as the automated rings reverberated in your ear.
She didn't pick up. The only difference from the last five times was that this time, there was no invitation to leave a message. The implication left a hollow in your chest and an anxiety in your limbs you promptly began to itch at, curling to your side on your bed and whining softly. If she was here, she would hold you and run her rough fingers through your hair and tell you not to hurt yourself. She would tell you to be careful, and grip firmly onto your wrists and press her lips, her tongue against them, and then smile with all of her teeth and say you tasted like candy and lovely and beauty but not blood. Never blood.
She wasn't here.
She hadn't called back in a week.
Suddenly you wonder if you're ever going to hear her voice again.
Maybe she was fed up with you. Fed up with your crying, your obsessions, your nervousness, your facade that only she saw through.
Goddamn it, you loved her.
You love her you love her you love her, you moan as you crush your arms tight around your ribs, begging your body to rest its agony and let you sleep.

You love Dave.
But he is so delicate.
And you are scared.
You grew up taking care of yourself. Your mother wasn't negligent, but she wasn't nurturing, either. She had better things to do than teach little Terezi how to be “socially acceptable” or “kind”.
(Dave didn't come from a good home either. But in ways you couldn't even imagine.)
You remember how the first time Dave came home with you, and he saw all of your strung-up scalemates and backed up into the wall, gasping and demanding you to explain. He cried. You spent an hour taking them all down while he sat on the couch with a blanket on his head, trying not to cry yourself. You love him. You love him so much.
You held him all night afterward and promised him you would never hurt him.
What am I doing now? You think.

You check your phone. One more call.
And then it stops.
And so does your heart.
You grab your keys.

Your door opens.
And then she's in your room.
Lazily, your roll your eyes up to meet hers. Her half-inch thick glasses that make her turquoise eyes so big. You start to shiver.
She drove?
She gets down on her knees next to your bed, softly prying your arms from around yourself.
They are raw, pale with pink streaks from your sharp nails across the soft inside. Her dark brown complexion is warm compared to yours. Winter and summer. She holds your wrist.
Her lips press against the inside softly, and whispers,

You hold him.
He is so fragile.
And so brave.
And you love him.
“I'm scared.”
He admits in the darkness.
“Me too.” you concede.
You run your fingers through his hair, thoroughly comforted by your shared terror.


[personal profile] sirlampalot - 2012-07-26 03:29 (UTC) - Expand

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[personal profile] pyrokineticvampire 2012-07-30 02:06 am (UTC)(link)

Time means nothing, here. Nothing means anything, here, you're only here because you were doomed and now you're dead just like at least a dozen other Daves. This is the Hell you never could have imagined and this is it, there's nothing more beyond this. Your story might as well be over.

So you lie on your brother's futon because your brother isn't here and it's more comfortable than the floor. You try not to think of anything because you'd rather the bubble just stay the way it is right now, looking like your apartment as if you're alive and at home before the game even started.

"Uh, Dave?"

Oh yeah, you'd nearly forgotten about Tavros. "Yo, Tav," you reply, voice muffled through a cushion.

"Are you okay?"

"Depends, are 'dead' and 'okay' synonymous?"

"No, I guess not." He sits down on the floor in front of you, facing the television even though there's nothing on. Aradia left a few minutes ago and now that the introductions and explanations are over, you're really not sure what to do with yourself or what to say to Tavros. This situation was hilarious for all of five minutes and now you just feel... dead.

"Why are you still here?" you mumble.

Tavros doesn't reply, but he doesn't leave either.


You have no idea how long it's been but things are looking up, in a way. For awhile you lazed around, taught Tavros to play some of your video games, forced him to sit through horrible movies, and (playfully) assaulted him with shitty swords when he least expects it.

"I can't believe you're still here," you joke.


Sometimes you think about the whole doomed Dave thing, how you weren't alpha Dave. You still have the same memories as alpha Dave up until when your timelines deviated and yours became unstable. You were still him, you are still him, but now you're dead and your best friends are probably beating the game with a different Dave, the real one. You miss them, you wish you were alive with them.

You sulk in your bedroom with your turntables, drowning out any other noise with the sound of your sick beats, although what you're presently coming up with isn't as sick as your usual. You thought being upset and lonely was supposed to be good for art creation, that's what people say at least, but you end up just slouching over the instruments and staying there unmoving for who knows how long.

Tavros comes into the room and leans against the wall, quiet for a few minutes before finally speaking. "Could I maybe... hear something you've written?"

You shrug and sit up a little straighter. "You should just go, you have no reason to stay here," you tell him, but you play him a song anyway and he says he loves it.


You don't really need to sleep anymore but you still do sometimes, just for a break and a chance to rest your eyes for awhile. You suppose it passes the time away, somehow. Tavros is reading, curled up on a pile of red and yellow plush toys that he uses in some weird game he tried teaching you once, and you don't understand how it works in the slightest, but the plushies look pretty comfy, so you toss yourself down beside him, shifting until you're in a comfortable position which just happens to include your leg getting tangled between his own.

"Uh..." Tavros says quietly. His shock is both funny and a little cute. You snuggle closer because making him uncomfortable is amusing. No other reason.

Eventually he relaxes, finishes off what he's reading and then just lays there with you quietly.

"You're gonna stay forever, aren't you?" you ask.

"Yeah," Tavros agrees.


[personal profile] alouetta - 2012-07-31 12:24 (UTC) - Expand
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[personal profile] pyrokineticvampire 2012-07-28 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
"You could have just pestered me," Rose says.

"I could've," Dave agrees as he enters Rose's bedroom and sprawls across her bed, stretching out and taking all the space. Rose sits at her desk, laptop open in front of her. "What are you doing still using that?" he asks curiously. He hasn't used his own computer since alchemizing a whole bunch of new things including the iShades.

She doesn't look away from the screen. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Come on Rose, why would you when you've got a freaking headset. We're like high tech ninjas. Undercover spies who can talk to each other without barely moving a muscle or making a sound."

She spins around in her chair, finally facing Dave. "Meanwhile, you're here in my bedroom talking to me face to face instead of talking to me online like we've done for years."

Dave shrugs. "Fine you win this time. But what are you doing? Bored with ruining ruins? Are you writing fanfiction? Can I read it?"


Getting back up, Dave moves to look over Rose's shoulder and catches a quick glimpse of her screen before she snaps the laptop shut. She watches him closely for recognition to show on his face and for a moment he just stands there and stares at the spot where Rose's screen once was. "You're building up John's house."

She stands and walks out of the room. He follows. For over two months now they've been the only ones left, ever since John was killed and presumably Jade's island was hit by a meteor. It's impossible to win the game this way, just the two of them, and every day there's less and less they can do to learn more before resetting the clock. They've both gained many levels and gone through more gates, they have more grist than either of them know what to do with anymore, and they both know the time is coming soon.

Rose is standing by the waterfall that flows into the lake that surrounds her home when Dave steps up beside her. As always, it's raining, but neither mind. There's just the two of them, standing in the light and rain, stuck alone in a timeline that will need to be erased.

"Should I go back?" Dave asks.

"No," Rose replies immediately. The game and their progress is easier to talk about. It's facts and logic. "I think we can both climb our echeladders some more. Maybe make more weapons with the grist we have, you'll be able to take back whatever you make."

Dave's heard this all before, they've gone over the possibilities a hundred times, but he knows that going over it again makes Rose feel like she has more control of the situation, so he listens. He puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer.

"We're going to make everything better," he says.

"You are," Rose corrects.

Dave shakes his head. "I would've gotten bored and gone back ages ago if you weren't here to be all smart about it. You know we'd be screwed either way without you."

At that, Rose smiles slightly. "Come on, let's go find some imps to destroy."
macca44552: (Default)


[personal profile] macca44552 2012-08-04 09:23 pm (UTC)(link)
I DirkSol'd. .-.


Roxy’s pissed that you’re not dancing, Jane’s throwing you worrisome glances, and Jake’s thumping over every once and while to snap in your face, but you’re not interested in them.

It’s a freewheelin’ club, so you shouldn’t be surprised that there are trolls here. But the one across from you captures your attention. His position matches yours, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, and looking like he’d rather go into labor than get bumped into by the drunken dumbasses that breed and coalesce in this fucking place. The three musketeers dragged you out tonight while you were in the middle of working on your latest update for Sawtooth, and though you know next to nothing about this guy, you can tell that his natural environment is one spent crouched against a desk, muttering to himself in poor lighting. You can see it in his posture, the shades he wears, the aggravated balance of his four horns, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve been so interested in someone you could figure out so easily.

You think he catches you looking. So you make your way through the crowd, winding around gyrating bodies, noise and sweat. A few girls hook their arms around your shoulders and try to summon you into their bump n’ grind clan but you swiftly avoid them. Your reward is standing in front of him as he sizes you up and scowls.

“Something you want?” he lisps. You quirk an eyebrow over your shades and he seems to backtrack. “Not what I meant, you sick fuck. Either tell me why you’ve been staring at me or go the fuck away.”

“You’re directly across from me. Eyes naturally tend to snap forwards.”

“You were lingering.”

“So were you.”

“I was glaring.”

“Wouldn’t know, would I?” You tap the edge of glasses. One eye blue, one red. You trace along the side and he looks like he wants to rip your finger out of its socket, but he doesn’t move.

“Did you come back from a showing of The Power of Love in 3D?”


“These are incredibly shitty, dude.”

He grabs your wrist, moves it down, applies pressure, “You’re so fucking clueless. You don’t get it do you? I could fucking break your spine without even touching you.”

You feel the electricity. “Psionic?”

“My name’s Sollux. Now I suggest you go bother someone else. I’m not in the mood to deal with this bullshit.”

Stepping away sounds boring, so you get closer, “Your threats are hardly impressive.”

“Just fuck off.”


“I swear to fucking god—”

“He’s getting some?”

“—that I will murder you!”

You tilt your head. His frustration is palpable and it eggs you on. “Nah.”

He growls, “I just want to be miserable in fucking peace!”

Red and blue flares out of the side of his glasses, his horns. A few people turn and stare quizzically, but his tantrum isn’t obvious under the lights of the club.

But you know it’s there. You watch. Your throat goes a bit dry and you know you don’t want to go back to your apartment to work on Sawtooth.

“Leave with me,” you say.

He sputters. Cringes. Stops flashing.

“Fuck no! You’re the biggest douchebag I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“Come on.”

“No!” As if on cue, an obnoxiously upbeat song blasts through the club and Sollux groans and presses his fingers to his temples. You wonder what the fuck managed to drag this antisocial recluse to a place like this, but before you ask, he’s pulling you towards the doors, out of the club, into the street filled with puddles and drunken stutterers.

Okay sure.

He’s still holding his head, his fingers clawing into his scalp despite the fact that the noise is gone.

“Shit shit,” he mutters.

“Dude, stop. It’s going to get worse if you keep squeezing your head like it’s a fucking stress ball.”

“Shut up!” he barks. And you’re not sure if he’s talking to you.

Backing off, you lean against the wall and watch as he slowly stops freaking the fuck out. You didn’t realize he was trembling until it ends. He drops his hands and lets out a breath.

“Don’t say a word,” he groans. You stare. Stare at the symbol on his shirt, the two sets of horns, the double teeth and you think you understand him a lot more than you bargained for.

You trace the top of the building across the street, words leaving you flippantly, “There was a time when I used to flit between two consciousnesses.”

He snaps, snarls, “No! You’re nothing but a fucking human. Don’t pretend, don’t even try to think you’re capable of understanding.”

In all honesty, you probably aren't. Not yet. You shrug.


He doesn’t move. You thought he would have marched away by now but he stands there. His face relaxes and sighs; he runs his hands through his hair a bit fervently.

“Sorry. Look, I’m an asshole. Don’t, I didn’t mean—”

Bipolar too? Jesus Christ, you’ve got yourself a fun one. “Nah, I don’t care.”

He stops fidgeting to just look. You allow him this, tilting your head back and exposing the arch of your neck. You wish you could see his eyes travel down the expanse, but you feel it, so that’s good enough.

“You’re really white,” he blurts. You actually fucking snort.

“Thanks for noticing.”

“Oh shit, that was a really dumb thing to say.” His emphasis on the ‘to’ barely distracts you from feeling annoyed at his self deprecation. He needs more confidence. At least, this side of him does. The other just needs to chill the fuck out. You’ll help both.

He steps closer, stands beside you. You wonder if his moods are separate, true duality. Do they bleed together? Are his thoughts deranged, discriminate, or a festering mass of discoordination?

You look at him, unfazed by the mere inches between you.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he whispers, “I really could break your spine without touching you.”

You smirk. He doesn’t realize he’s saying all the things you like, “You better fuckin’ try.”

He makes a small noise, curses at it, leans away and then back again when your hand goes under his shirt and touches his skin.

In the end, he follows you home.