Homestuck got to me too
So, Homestuck got to me too. I love that comic, makes me happy somewhat.
I even went so far as to write a fill for the kink meme. First time I've dared to post something there and I'm just going to post it here so I don't forget it and lose it in one of my many folders.
Life is good
You know he's coming long before you hear him. Soft footsteps barely heard on the floor. You get up and open the door, knowing that he will be there, looking for comfort.
You open the door and there he is. He is tiny for his age, too thin too.
You look at him, but he won't meet your eyes. So you bend down and pick him up, carry him to your bed.
“Just this once, okay?“ You say. The same thing you say every night when he comes crawling into your bed.
A soft hum is all the answer you get. It'll suffice. You know that he is tired, exhausted from another day in this hellhole.
How long has it been since mom died? You can't remember. Dave was even smaller back then and you had yet to become a teenager.
Dave is all you have left, or so you'd like to say. But it's not true. There's a monster in this house and it calls itself your father.
As you shuffle around to lie more comfortably you hear Dave sniffle and freeze. He never cries, no matter how bad the monster beat you up, no matter if he got hit by it.
“What's wrong, little dude?“ You ask, shifting around more carefully, taking him in your arms and holding him close. You hate the man for treating you like this, but what's even worse is that you have little control over what he does to your little brother when you're not around. Dave is a smart boy, he knows when to stay away from the man and where to hide. Though that's never enough to keep him completely safe.
“...hurts.“ he replies and clasps his arms around your neck. Something is wrong, very wrong. Dave would crawl into your bed each night, sleep by your side, but never cling to tight, never complain.
“What hurts?” you ask, afraid of the answer. When you receive no answer you wrap you arms tightly around him and move to stand up. A suppressed whimper reaches your ears and worries you even more. Slowly and even more carefully then before you carry him to the adjoined bathroom and turn on the light.
Black and blue bruises on almost white skin greet you. They make you angry, make you want to kill that fucking monster that does that to your baby brother, your Dave. But sadly, they are nothing out of the usual. Your own skin looks just the same, littered with bruises and scratches. But you're no little boy. You're fourteen, almost a grown man, while your baby brother only turned eight last week.
A stain of red catches your eye. On the bottom of his pajamas is a stain of blood. Why is there blood? There shouldn't be blood.
“Little dude? Let me see.” you say to your brother, and he looks away. He actually looks away, not daring to meet your eyes. It makes your blood boil. “Dave?”
Gently you reach for his pants and pull them down. You see red, literally. There's blood on your baby brothers thighs, and specks of white. You know what happened. The rage you feel makes your head ache. Your body feels hot and cold at the same time.
He broke the arrangement.
The monster promised to stay away from Dave. Promised he would never touch Dave that way as long as you obeyed. And you did. You let that creepy fuck touch you, let him do things to you that no father should do to his child. All to keep Dave safe from that. Your precious brother should not grow up like that. Dave is all you care about and you promised to yourself to keep him safe from that.
But the ugly truth is staring you in the face right now. He lied. Of course he lied. He is a monster. Monsters don't keep their promises.
He will pay for this, you vow to yourself. He will never, ever touch your brother again.
“Bro?” Dave's voice breaks you out of your thoughts. You look at your pale, trembling brother, trying his best to be brave.
You hush him and take a wet towel to clean him up. You're careful, oh so careful, but you feel him trying to surpress a flinch every time you find a new scratch or bitemark.
You want to kill the monster, and you will.
When you're done cleaning him up, you gather him in your arms again.
“We'll be out of here soon.” You tell him and he looks at you with hope in his eyes. You're his hero, his idol, whatever you say has to be true. And you will make sure it'll come true.
You put him back to bed and curl yourself around him. He cuddles as close as he dares without upsetting his bruises, or yours. His red eyes flit over your upper body, seeing the bruises the monster left. You are quite the fitting pair, you note with irony - and hatred.
When Dave finally falls asleep, clinging to you like a babe, you think about what you will do. There is no way that you will let the monster touch Dave ever again, and that will only happen if the monster is gone. Well, that can be arranged.
A week later there is an accident. The breaks of the monster's car stop working and it hits a wall dead on. Your father is dead within seconds.
The police suspects foul play. And there was. You know it. After all it was you who meddled with the breaks.
The monster was little loved in your town and the investigation soon stops. One look at his bruised and beaten sons has turned the police against the man.
Dave and you spend some time at the hospital. Cute little Dave turning into the darling of the nurses and taking full advantage of it.
Then the time comes for you to start over. An orphanage. It's going to suck, but it can't be worse than before you tell yourself.
It's five months, three weeks and four days before you get taken into another family with another monster waiting for you. But you don't know that yet. Life is good.
I even went so far as to write a fill for the kink meme. First time I've dared to post something there and I'm just going to post it here so I don't forget it and lose it in one of my many folders.
Life is good
You know he's coming long before you hear him. Soft footsteps barely heard on the floor. You get up and open the door, knowing that he will be there, looking for comfort.
You open the door and there he is. He is tiny for his age, too thin too.
You look at him, but he won't meet your eyes. So you bend down and pick him up, carry him to your bed.
“Just this once, okay?“ You say. The same thing you say every night when he comes crawling into your bed.
A soft hum is all the answer you get. It'll suffice. You know that he is tired, exhausted from another day in this hellhole.
How long has it been since mom died? You can't remember. Dave was even smaller back then and you had yet to become a teenager.
Dave is all you have left, or so you'd like to say. But it's not true. There's a monster in this house and it calls itself your father.
As you shuffle around to lie more comfortably you hear Dave sniffle and freeze. He never cries, no matter how bad the monster beat you up, no matter if he got hit by it.
“What's wrong, little dude?“ You ask, shifting around more carefully, taking him in your arms and holding him close. You hate the man for treating you like this, but what's even worse is that you have little control over what he does to your little brother when you're not around. Dave is a smart boy, he knows when to stay away from the man and where to hide. Though that's never enough to keep him completely safe.
“...hurts.“ he replies and clasps his arms around your neck. Something is wrong, very wrong. Dave would crawl into your bed each night, sleep by your side, but never cling to tight, never complain.
“What hurts?” you ask, afraid of the answer. When you receive no answer you wrap you arms tightly around him and move to stand up. A suppressed whimper reaches your ears and worries you even more. Slowly and even more carefully then before you carry him to the adjoined bathroom and turn on the light.
Black and blue bruises on almost white skin greet you. They make you angry, make you want to kill that fucking monster that does that to your baby brother, your Dave. But sadly, they are nothing out of the usual. Your own skin looks just the same, littered with bruises and scratches. But you're no little boy. You're fourteen, almost a grown man, while your baby brother only turned eight last week.
A stain of red catches your eye. On the bottom of his pajamas is a stain of blood. Why is there blood? There shouldn't be blood.
“Little dude? Let me see.” you say to your brother, and he looks away. He actually looks away, not daring to meet your eyes. It makes your blood boil. “Dave?”
Gently you reach for his pants and pull them down. You see red, literally. There's blood on your baby brothers thighs, and specks of white. You know what happened. The rage you feel makes your head ache. Your body feels hot and cold at the same time.
He broke the arrangement.
The monster promised to stay away from Dave. Promised he would never touch Dave that way as long as you obeyed. And you did. You let that creepy fuck touch you, let him do things to you that no father should do to his child. All to keep Dave safe from that. Your precious brother should not grow up like that. Dave is all you care about and you promised to yourself to keep him safe from that.
But the ugly truth is staring you in the face right now. He lied. Of course he lied. He is a monster. Monsters don't keep their promises.
He will pay for this, you vow to yourself. He will never, ever touch your brother again.
“Bro?” Dave's voice breaks you out of your thoughts. You look at your pale, trembling brother, trying his best to be brave.
You hush him and take a wet towel to clean him up. You're careful, oh so careful, but you feel him trying to surpress a flinch every time you find a new scratch or bitemark.
You want to kill the monster, and you will.
When you're done cleaning him up, you gather him in your arms again.
“We'll be out of here soon.” You tell him and he looks at you with hope in his eyes. You're his hero, his idol, whatever you say has to be true. And you will make sure it'll come true.
You put him back to bed and curl yourself around him. He cuddles as close as he dares without upsetting his bruises, or yours. His red eyes flit over your upper body, seeing the bruises the monster left. You are quite the fitting pair, you note with irony - and hatred.
When Dave finally falls asleep, clinging to you like a babe, you think about what you will do. There is no way that you will let the monster touch Dave ever again, and that will only happen if the monster is gone. Well, that can be arranged.
A week later there is an accident. The breaks of the monster's car stop working and it hits a wall dead on. Your father is dead within seconds.
The police suspects foul play. And there was. You know it. After all it was you who meddled with the breaks.
The monster was little loved in your town and the investigation soon stops. One look at his bruised and beaten sons has turned the police against the man.
Dave and you spend some time at the hospital. Cute little Dave turning into the darling of the nurses and taking full advantage of it.
Then the time comes for you to start over. An orphanage. It's going to suck, but it can't be worse than before you tell yourself.
It's five months, three weeks and four days before you get taken into another family with another monster waiting for you. But you don't know that yet. Life is good.