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I'm alive! This is indeed a shocking development. I'm at home for the summer, failing to get a job, been sucked into a new fandom, have downloaded a new chat client and made a couple of new friends!
And speaking of new fandoms, have a thing from a Homestuck AU I'm working on. I call it, with the greatest amount of love, Crazystuck. The general gist is that EVERYONE IS IN A MENTAL HOSPITAL FOR SOME REASON, which is actually surprisingly easy to do. Thanks, Hussie. Although, to be fair, some of the characters are just working there. But most of them are crazy as hell.
This first bit deals with depression and has a suicide attempt, so if you have problems with those two things, it could be triggery!
I only come back to post things and review whore, and then I disappear into the darkness again. There will probably be more expounding on my INCREDIBLY EXCITING life later.
i. Tavros
it doesn't matter which you heard
Tavros is basically just zoning out on the couch, slumped and staring at a point of nothing somewhere behind the wallpaper, trying out ways to not think, when Vriska comes in. She grabs him by the arm and pulls him to his feet and then drags him out and up, to the roof access, thin fingers clenched bruisingly hard around his wrist. When he stumbles, she doesn't stop. The white slash of her grin is the only thing he can see in the dimness of the stairwell; he follows it like a lifeline, up and up.
The heat hits him like a wall, sapping what little energy remained in him. Vriska pulls him to the side and lets him sag against the wall by the door, draping herself over one shoulder.
"What time is it?" The soft little puffs of her breath tickle his ear. "Do you know?"
If he stretches his mind, he can remember that it's August, but the day is beyond him and all he knows about the time is that the sun's still out. It glares down at them through a greasy curtain of car exhaust like God's own swollen and diseased eye, flat and baleful. The air is colored stale orange and humid, hanging heavy in his lungs when he breathes in. It tastes like hopelessness and the ghost of the memory of caring.
"I don't know."
Vriska sighs like she's disappointed and pulls him farther out onto the roof, towards the guardrail. "You've been moping around not doing anything for weeks, Toreasnore. Have you finally just completely given up? Have you decided to just be the most boring person in the entire world?"
They fetch up against the guardrail and Tavros stares down, fingers curling tight around the sun-warmed metal. Up this far everything seems like it has even less of a point, all the cars and people passing by small and indistinguishable from each other, little toy people in a little toy town playing at pointless plastic lives. None of it feels thicker than a sheet of paper, not even the tumble of dark hair and grey skin and vicious eyes and grinning teeth leaning all angle-hipped and sharp-shouldered on the rail next to him. Her horns sweep out from her head and fade out into the same dull color as the empty space behind his eyes, like an incomplete cut-out from the sky. He wonders if she's really real, and decides he doesn't care.
"I, uh... I don't know." The words come out of his mouth like a rock-fall, dropping heavily into the air between them. Speaking almost takes more effort than he feels like he can give.
"Of course not. You don't know aaanything." Vriska rolls her eyes, snorting derisively. "You never know anything. What are you even doing?"
"I, what?"
"What are you doing, Toreadork? With your life?" She almost sounds interested, but it's a predator interest. The spider asking the fly if it's tired.
"Could you just...maybe...not, uh, call me things like that?" He knows this mood she's in right now. It's the one where she can't really stand him, no matter what he does, and pricks and nips and scratches at him trying to get a reaction. But the mood he's in right now is the one where he can't really care about anything, not food or school or any of the friends whose missed calls are piling up in his phone or even Vriska, whether she's kissing him or spitting venom in his eyes. "That's just, uh, not even my name at all."
She looks delighted, teeth cutting a wider slash across her face, and slings an arm over his shoulders. "Oh, do you care about something now?"
"I, uh, just think that maybe you could call me my name. But, whatever." It's not that important. What is? Names, moods, traffic, roofs, who cares? The world is a smudged drawing on a crumpled up diner napkin and the girl beside him is a paper doll cut out of dirty sky, and they're still both more real than him.
"Oh, no, there we go. Boring Tavros is officially back in action." She squeezes his shoulder. "But you're never really not boring, so I guess he’s pretty much just normal Tavros, except he showers less."
She keeps talking, but her voice fades into the same meaningless blur of noise that makes up the city, car horns and squealing tires and distant sirens and the low rumbling murmur of thousands of people all talking at once, and Tavros just stops paying any attention. It's all the same things he already knows, boring useless worthless I hate you won't you get off your stupid boring ass and do something, teeth and tongue and lips calculating his exact value, which is zero. He looks down and sees the shape of the jump, his tired feet climbing themselves up onto the lower rail, fingers clenching the top one so tight his knuckles are white. Suddenly her hand is off of his shoulder and clenching at the back of his shirt, claws pricking his skin through the fabric.
There's a bruise right by her hand, splotchy brown and Vriska-fist-shaped. It reminds him of its existence suddenly as her nails skitter across it, and he feels like maybe that's important, that there's a bruise underneath his shoulderblade the exact size and shape of her clenched knuckles.
"Are you going to jump?" she asks, head tilting to look up at him. Her eyes are curious, but not worried, and he feels like maybe that's important too.
"I don't know." Tavros looks down and the distance stares back up at him, through his eyes and into the emptiness behind them, and god does it look inviting.
"Maybe you should." Her grip on the back of his shirt relaxes. She's still holding on, but not holding him back. "It's rush hour. Lots of people would see you. It'd be kind of exciting!"
A laugh comes out of him like the last trickle of water from a broken hose. "Maybe I should. It looks quiet. Uh, the jump, I mean. Like it would, uh, just be...quiet."
Now her hand is just resting flat on him, fingers curled around and drumming lightly on his ribs. "You're so weird. It wouldn't be quiet because you'd be screaming the whole way down, like a big stupid scaredy coward, until you went splat and shut up."
Tavros shifts, leaning out over the railing. "So do you, uh, think I should?" Behind the silence in his head there's a long lonely scream, saying no say i shouldn't say you love me say you'd care, but it's all swallowed up and dying in the silence, and anyway he wants to. He really, really wants to, like he can't remember wanting anything in such a long time it makes something splinter inside of his chest. It will be quiet, and graceful, and terrifying, and he'll feel it, and then he won't feel like nothing anymore.
She claps him on the back. "Sure. Do it!" Grinning, she climbs up onto the bottom rail with him and stretches to kiss his cheek with dry lips. "Do something interesting for once in your stupid miserable life!"
Clambering up onto the top rail is harder than he'd thought, and he almost just falls, heart jolting in his chest as he catches himself. She doesn't even laugh, just watches silent and head-tilted until he's up there, toes curling reflexively and arms spread wide for balance. He's facing her, back to the sunburnt skyline.
"I'll watch you the whole way down," she promises, without him even having to ask, like she knows what he’s thinking the way she always used to, and she smiles up at him like maybe she loves him again. "It's gonna be great, watching you do something right for once. Now, go on. Flyyyy, Tavros!"
He falls. It's quiet.
the holy or the broken hallelujah
And speaking of new fandoms, have a thing from a Homestuck AU I'm working on. I call it, with the greatest amount of love, Crazystuck. The general gist is that EVERYONE IS IN A MENTAL HOSPITAL FOR SOME REASON, which is actually surprisingly easy to do. Thanks, Hussie. Although, to be fair, some of the characters are just working there. But most of them are crazy as hell.
This first bit deals with depression and has a suicide attempt, so if you have problems with those two things, it could be triggery!
I only come back to post things and review whore, and then I disappear into the darkness again. There will probably be more expounding on my INCREDIBLY EXCITING life later.
i. Tavros
it doesn't matter which you heard
Tavros is basically just zoning out on the couch, slumped and staring at a point of nothing somewhere behind the wallpaper, trying out ways to not think, when Vriska comes in. She grabs him by the arm and pulls him to his feet and then drags him out and up, to the roof access, thin fingers clenched bruisingly hard around his wrist. When he stumbles, she doesn't stop. The white slash of her grin is the only thing he can see in the dimness of the stairwell; he follows it like a lifeline, up and up.
The heat hits him like a wall, sapping what little energy remained in him. Vriska pulls him to the side and lets him sag against the wall by the door, draping herself over one shoulder.
"What time is it?" The soft little puffs of her breath tickle his ear. "Do you know?"
If he stretches his mind, he can remember that it's August, but the day is beyond him and all he knows about the time is that the sun's still out. It glares down at them through a greasy curtain of car exhaust like God's own swollen and diseased eye, flat and baleful. The air is colored stale orange and humid, hanging heavy in his lungs when he breathes in. It tastes like hopelessness and the ghost of the memory of caring.
"I don't know."
Vriska sighs like she's disappointed and pulls him farther out onto the roof, towards the guardrail. "You've been moping around not doing anything for weeks, Toreasnore. Have you finally just completely given up? Have you decided to just be the most boring person in the entire world?"
They fetch up against the guardrail and Tavros stares down, fingers curling tight around the sun-warmed metal. Up this far everything seems like it has even less of a point, all the cars and people passing by small and indistinguishable from each other, little toy people in a little toy town playing at pointless plastic lives. None of it feels thicker than a sheet of paper, not even the tumble of dark hair and grey skin and vicious eyes and grinning teeth leaning all angle-hipped and sharp-shouldered on the rail next to him. Her horns sweep out from her head and fade out into the same dull color as the empty space behind his eyes, like an incomplete cut-out from the sky. He wonders if she's really real, and decides he doesn't care.
"I, uh... I don't know." The words come out of his mouth like a rock-fall, dropping heavily into the air between them. Speaking almost takes more effort than he feels like he can give.
"Of course not. You don't know aaanything." Vriska rolls her eyes, snorting derisively. "You never know anything. What are you even doing?"
"I, what?"
"What are you doing, Toreadork? With your life?" She almost sounds interested, but it's a predator interest. The spider asking the fly if it's tired.
"Could you just...maybe...not, uh, call me things like that?" He knows this mood she's in right now. It's the one where she can't really stand him, no matter what he does, and pricks and nips and scratches at him trying to get a reaction. But the mood he's in right now is the one where he can't really care about anything, not food or school or any of the friends whose missed calls are piling up in his phone or even Vriska, whether she's kissing him or spitting venom in his eyes. "That's just, uh, not even my name at all."
She looks delighted, teeth cutting a wider slash across her face, and slings an arm over his shoulders. "Oh, do you care about something now?"
"I, uh, just think that maybe you could call me my name. But, whatever." It's not that important. What is? Names, moods, traffic, roofs, who cares? The world is a smudged drawing on a crumpled up diner napkin and the girl beside him is a paper doll cut out of dirty sky, and they're still both more real than him.
"Oh, no, there we go. Boring Tavros is officially back in action." She squeezes his shoulder. "But you're never really not boring, so I guess he’s pretty much just normal Tavros, except he showers less."
She keeps talking, but her voice fades into the same meaningless blur of noise that makes up the city, car horns and squealing tires and distant sirens and the low rumbling murmur of thousands of people all talking at once, and Tavros just stops paying any attention. It's all the same things he already knows, boring useless worthless I hate you won't you get off your stupid boring ass and do something, teeth and tongue and lips calculating his exact value, which is zero. He looks down and sees the shape of the jump, his tired feet climbing themselves up onto the lower rail, fingers clenching the top one so tight his knuckles are white. Suddenly her hand is off of his shoulder and clenching at the back of his shirt, claws pricking his skin through the fabric.
There's a bruise right by her hand, splotchy brown and Vriska-fist-shaped. It reminds him of its existence suddenly as her nails skitter across it, and he feels like maybe that's important, that there's a bruise underneath his shoulderblade the exact size and shape of her clenched knuckles.
"Are you going to jump?" she asks, head tilting to look up at him. Her eyes are curious, but not worried, and he feels like maybe that's important too.
"I don't know." Tavros looks down and the distance stares back up at him, through his eyes and into the emptiness behind them, and god does it look inviting.
"Maybe you should." Her grip on the back of his shirt relaxes. She's still holding on, but not holding him back. "It's rush hour. Lots of people would see you. It'd be kind of exciting!"
A laugh comes out of him like the last trickle of water from a broken hose. "Maybe I should. It looks quiet. Uh, the jump, I mean. Like it would, uh, just be...quiet."
Now her hand is just resting flat on him, fingers curled around and drumming lightly on his ribs. "You're so weird. It wouldn't be quiet because you'd be screaming the whole way down, like a big stupid scaredy coward, until you went splat and shut up."
Tavros shifts, leaning out over the railing. "So do you, uh, think I should?" Behind the silence in his head there's a long lonely scream, saying no say i shouldn't say you love me say you'd care, but it's all swallowed up and dying in the silence, and anyway he wants to. He really, really wants to, like he can't remember wanting anything in such a long time it makes something splinter inside of his chest. It will be quiet, and graceful, and terrifying, and he'll feel it, and then he won't feel like nothing anymore.
She claps him on the back. "Sure. Do it!" Grinning, she climbs up onto the bottom rail with him and stretches to kiss his cheek with dry lips. "Do something interesting for once in your stupid miserable life!"
Clambering up onto the top rail is harder than he'd thought, and he almost just falls, heart jolting in his chest as he catches himself. She doesn't even laugh, just watches silent and head-tilted until he's up there, toes curling reflexively and arms spread wide for balance. He's facing her, back to the sunburnt skyline.
"I'll watch you the whole way down," she promises, without him even having to ask, like she knows what he’s thinking the way she always used to, and she smiles up at him like maybe she loves him again. "It's gonna be great, watching you do something right for once. Now, go on. Flyyyy, Tavros!"
He falls. It's quiet.
the holy or the broken hallelujah