For every mile of ocean crossed ☆ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thingwithfeathers2014-04-15 05:36 pm
outstretched) wrote in thingwithfeathers2014-04-15 05:36 pm
Entry tags:
rainy day flashfics
both homestuck. Written as rewards for friends who successfully made it to class even though the weather today was so dreary. ♥
maintenance | 150 words | john ♦ vriska | for![[tumblr.com profile]](https://www.tumblr.com/favicon.ico)
goawei
You half listen to Vriska as you comb the tangles from her hair. It isn't how you expected a girl's to be, coarse instead of silky. She's an alien, though, so you guess that's why.
“Do you miss your friends?” she asks abruptly.
You pause, flashing back to your last living memory: the trail of smoke beneath your feet, the blue-black planet miles below, the total lack of vertigo.
Before you answer she whirls to face you, the movement yanking the comb from your hand. Her eyes are wide and blank—like yours—the grin beneath them sharply fanged. Girls, you think. “Of course not!” she tells you, “Because I'm the only friend you'll need, right?”
“You're my friend too,” you agree, but the sad quirk to your smile must give you away. Her eyes soften, her hands settling over yours.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “At least I've still got you.”
--
escalate | 165 words | john ♥ dave | forunfortunatebassist
You cop a feel on your way past him to grab some apple chips, no big, just a light squeeze and the lingering brush of your fingers against his plush ass. He jumps anyway, dropping a half-soaped dish back into the sink.
“Dave!”
“No homo,” you say without inflection, swinging the cabinet open so he can't see your smirk.
An hour later there's a a sharp, resounding crack that ricochets from your butt up your spine to your brain. You almost hear it before you feel it, that's how hard he just smacked your ass. You swear you feel your left cheek ripple.
“No homo!!” John shouts as he darts past, leaving you to clutch at your wounded derrière and wheeze in his wake.
The next morning, John is watching you like a hawk. Coolly, you take your place on the sofa, but you can't help a slight wince when you sit down and he bursts out laughing. You carry a hand-shaped bruise for weeks.
maintenance | 150 words | john ♦ vriska | for
You half listen to Vriska as you comb the tangles from her hair. It isn't how you expected a girl's to be, coarse instead of silky. She's an alien, though, so you guess that's why.
“Do you miss your friends?” she asks abruptly.
You pause, flashing back to your last living memory: the trail of smoke beneath your feet, the blue-black planet miles below, the total lack of vertigo.
Before you answer she whirls to face you, the movement yanking the comb from your hand. Her eyes are wide and blank—like yours—the grin beneath them sharply fanged. Girls, you think. “Of course not!” she tells you, “Because I'm the only friend you'll need, right?”
“You're my friend too,” you agree, but the sad quirk to your smile must give you away. Her eyes soften, her hands settling over yours.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “At least I've still got you.”
--
escalate | 165 words | john ♥ dave | for
You cop a feel on your way past him to grab some apple chips, no big, just a light squeeze and the lingering brush of your fingers against his plush ass. He jumps anyway, dropping a half-soaped dish back into the sink.
“Dave!”
“No homo,” you say without inflection, swinging the cabinet open so he can't see your smirk.
An hour later there's a a sharp, resounding crack that ricochets from your butt up your spine to your brain. You almost hear it before you feel it, that's how hard he just smacked your ass. You swear you feel your left cheek ripple.
“No homo!!” John shouts as he darts past, leaving you to clutch at your wounded derrière and wheeze in his wake.
The next morning, John is watching you like a hawk. Coolly, you take your place on the sofa, but you can't help a slight wince when you sit down and he bursts out laughing. You carry a hand-shaped bruise for weeks.