1 - 20 of 520 Works by Laylah
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"If you feel that need to dominate—to be in charge, to win—then this is actually a pretty safe way of dealing with that," Dirk says, looking you in the eyes. It doesn't sound like a general, impersonal 'you' at all. "You get what you want and so does your partner. It's not a lot like the bullshit you see in the media."
"But I sh—it's not right to want that," you say, and by now your nerves are thrumming with an echo of the same panic you felt in Cronus's apartment.
Dirk shrugs. "You can spend your whole life trying to make yourself normal, whatever the fuck that actually means, or you can accept how you're different and start looking for ways to be happy."
Series
- Part 2 of Human Behavior
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You've been... you don't know, study buddies, something stupid like that, for most of spring semester.
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You know something's up the second time Karkat brings you a new drink without you having to whine. You frag the last alien on the map and then look up at him. "What's the deal, KK, you're never this polite. You put something in this?"
"No," he says, which makes you more suspicious, and then he amends that to, "Not yet."
It's his turn to pick something weird for you guys to try. The rule is you don't have to ask each other for permission unless there's going to be pain involved, and after last time you're expecting him to push it a little.
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You push yourself up to a sitting position. "Bro," you say. "Long time no see." You manage to keep your voice almost totally steady, even.
He's sitting cross-legged in the sand, his elbows on his knees, his katana planted point-down next to him. His horns echo the shape of his shades, jagged outward-facing points. You wonder what yours look like, but you think you'd lose points for reaching up to cop a feel of your own headgear.
"Come on. We don't exactly have the high ground out here."
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The night-time sleeping period is the longer one, from midnight-ish until nearly dawn, but you feel like this time you spend almost the whole night tossing and turning. It helps to have an idea of what you're going to do, but you're still so nervous. He said yes. You never expected him to say yes.
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You keep trying to pretend this is just some kind of awful dayterror. You'll wake up any minute and go bitch to Kankri about how being on this planet is bad for your sensitive temperament. Any minute.
Not this minute. This minute the humans are shoving you into a scraped-bare ablution block that reeks of unfamiliar, cloying-sweet chemicals and letting you just fall on your front like a miserable mistreated tool.
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You try to dress nice. How do you dress nice for a sex club? You have no fucking idea. But you've got the greaser cool guy look down pretty good, and you think it works for you. You wear your tightest t-shirt. You spend like fifteen minutes in front of the bedroom mirror trying to decide which pair of jeans is the most flattering for your glutes. This is your chance.
Series
- Part 1 of Human Behavior
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It's not a glamorous job, but you can set your own hours, the pay rate is good now that you know what you're doing, and it leaves you with enough free time to enjoy your hobbies. You like to think you're doing pretty well for yourself.
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You don't want anything to do with anyone who wants anything to do with this shitty record label, right? Except you do honestly need a social circle that's bigger than just your moirail and your kismesis, so you might as well practice interacting like a real live troll while you’re out here. You find yourself attempting a smile that feels dumb as hell, and you try to think of something relatively not-obnoxious to say.
Series
- Part 6 of Imperial Pop Star
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Less Coffee, More Killing (sex and violence dub) by Laylah for graveExcitement (arachnids)
Homestuck
15 Mar 2013
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Your superiors think you are the best possible agent for the tough cases, and if they don't quite understand why you have, at your young age, enough skills for any two trolls—well. You tell yourselves that of course most people aren't clever enough to figure you out, and you try to be more smug than furious.
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You may not know fuckall about romance according to Karkat's tearjerker flicks, but you know your martial history just fucking fine, and bringing your resources to bear on someone else's fight is a flush gesture with a long and noble tradition. "Lemme come help you out. It'll be easier with company, right? I can help you get the preparations done. An' I can bring provisions for while you're hivebound."
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By the time the two of you have killed the joint, there's a comfortable haze over your mind. You're not so angry anymore. It's nice to be able to let go of that for a while, and not feel so wound tight with it. Cronus's eyes have slipped to half-lidded, his fins fluttering gently as he breathes. When you pull your shirt off he blinks at you a few times and says, "Wow."
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You feel the shift in the air behind you as someone else approaches, but you don't get up. You'll waste anyone who tries to fuck with you right now.
"Hot damn," says a voice almost but not quite like Terezi's. "Double trouble, huh?"
Your dancestor snickers, and you look up as dancestor Pyrope swaggers around into view.
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You'd thought your master's hive was grand, but it's nothing compared to the Imperial Palace. The building rears up before you, sweeping arches and high towers, black stone ornamented with garnet-colored tile. The banners snapping in the wind are brighter, though, a red so bright it looks unnatural: the banners of the Scarlet Emperor, newly risen, the first of his blood since the Signless Sunderer tore down the old empire and built the new one a thousand sweeps ago. Every noble in the Empire is coming to the Capital tonight, bringing gifts to demonstrate their allegiance and beg the new Emperor's favor.
Your master is bringing you.
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"Vantas, you lucky bastard," Straterrorist Reikar says, shaking her head. "Going to see that pilot of yours?"
You grin. "Only chance I'm going to have for the next sweep, so we better get our duty to the Mother done while we can."
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“How the fuck did you get in here,” he demands.
“Pizza delivery,” you say, mildly. “I did warn you.”
Series
- Part 5 of Imperial Pop Star
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Some nights you do get the eerie-silence-falls routine when you walk in a place. Last night, for instance, when you caught up with your bounty in a town a few miles further down the trail. But the regulars at the Dead Barkbeast know you. The bartender plunks a bottle of bourbon down on the counter, the pianoman transitions from his jaunty little tune into something more nautical, and you preen a bit as you get a seat on your regular barstool.
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You sit down in your computer chair and try not to squirm or shiver too much when she brushes your hair back from your earflap. You've never had anything pierced, and you think it probably can't be worse than getting injured during the game, but it's hard to relax all the same. You weren't just sitting and waiting to get hurt then.
"Aight," Meenah says. "Let's get this shoal on the road."
"Do it," you say. You close your eyes.
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You don't get anything like a warm welcome when you find the others. You weren't expecting any better, to be honest: you've lost the luxury of not knowing just exactly what your supposed friends think of you. But you know just how shit you are at being alone, even when the alternative is being around a bunch of people who think you're a pathetic, unfunny joke. So you square your shoulders and step out of the trees, into the circle of torchlight.
Series
- Part 3 of Concord
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“This fuckin’ bites,” Cronus repeats.
You roll your eyes. "Yeah, well, if you got any better ideas, champ, you could do worse than speakin' up." He likes to think he's so much more mature just because he's got, what, two whole sweeps on you? And then he acts like this.
He gives you this you're such a wiggler superior glare and sometimes you'd like to pop him one in the snout if you weren't sure it wouldn't upset Karkat. "Let's go out," he says.
Series
- Part 4 of Imperial Pop Star