HOME STUCK KINK MEME IV
Anonymously request any pairing and kink you want. Straight, Slash, Femslash, it's all good here!
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Dave grins and finishes the verse (in dead flat, atonal monotone), “Put your makeup on, Rez, and fix your hair up pretty. Gonna meet me tonight in Des Moines City.”
“Who’s getting the lyrics wrong now?” she snickers
“Yeah, I take that back. Des Moines is fucking terrible.”
Des Moines is pretty shitty, but it’s also the third most exciting discovery of Week Two. Terezi drags him down the entire colour-dappled stretch of Kruidenier Trail at two in the morning, eyes bright and steps light.
“Perfect, perfect,” she mutters in heady contemplation, “It’s just missing one thing.”
“What’s that?”
She holds up a stick of chalk and every part of her face glitters in the green light.
( ... )
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If the definition of Hero was: hotwire a truck and make a madly successful dash for the state line then Dave Strider was elven shades of noble Lancelot crusader. Knight of Time? Knight of Fucking Petty Crime Swag. He was lucky that Terezi didn’t think much of Earth Justice. Right now he felt so great about himself the last thing he needed was her looking at him all disapproving like ‘oh Dave were we on Alternia I’d have had you in a noose for that’. Instead she’s howling alongside him and, obnoxiously, flipping between radio stations for something appropriately “reckless” and “illy behaved”. Unfortunately, the only thing on is church sermons and Christian Rock so by the time Dave pulls the truck to a stop to catch his breath they’re hearing some monotone fossil espouse the parables of Isaiah or some other ( ... )
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“Be that as it may, try not to perish in the five hours it will take me to reach you. If you feel hypothermia begin to set in, don’t be a hero and please seek out shelter.”
“For fucks sake, Lalonde, I am not dying in a place called Blue Balls.”
Salvation assured, Dave slithers back under the wet comforter and wraps a gangly arm around Terezi’s shoulders. “You know,” she begins conversationally, “In trollish literature, allowing you matesprit to eat your carcass after you’ve died of exposure is considered the greatest of all romantic tropes.”
The thing he should say is stop bringing that up you cannot consume any part of my flesh hopy shit. What he says instead, “So we’re matesprits now? So glad losing my virginity was not only a harrowing blur of alien physiology but now also comes with a deceptively innocuous ( ... )
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his guide, his muse, the anti-thesis of his conscience, best friend, worst thing that even happened to him -- this shouldn't be beautiful, and you are six thousand exacto knives made into a girl. No one’s a bad idea like my girl, Tz. Why would I ever look at anyone else? this shouldn't be beautiful and hot, but they are and it is. There's something really underlying and sad here, except then she is his mail-order bride from space.
And she also got the lyrics to "More Than A Feeling" wrong and I totally lost my shit. Amazing fic is amazing. Bravo forever.
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absolutely gorgeous. oddly wistful and nostalgic and sad but also sweet and cute and hilarious.
i can never decide who is the best de-anon writer on this meme but you are way, way up there. so way up there.
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That was hilarious and gorgeous and all kinds of perfect! Thank you so much!
"You are six thousand exacto knives made into a girl." - best description of Terezi.
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God me too
When I was writing about how they only had $887 to run on I was like having a sympathy panic attack all honey no that is not enough money you need to plan this better nggggh.
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