imperialdrone: (cypher)
imperialdrone ([personal profile] imperialdrone) wrote in [community profile] bucketlist2012-02-11 01:32 pm
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Homestuck Kink Meme: Act 2

Homestuck Kink Meme

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  1. Both art and fic are welcome and encouraged.

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  4. It's called a kink meme but we welcome non-porn requests too. Just make sure you give anons something to work with beyond just the pairing.

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  1. Your kink is okay. So is everyone else's. Do not leave prompts or comments that bash characters/pairings or put down somebody's kinks/interests.

  2. If your prompt or fill contains common triggers such as graphic violence, rape/non-con, or abuse, please label it in the comment subject line, e.g.: "Vriska/Tavros [abuse]" or "Gamzee/any [violence]."

  3. Please put the character(s) you're requesting in the comment subject line! That makes it a lot easier for potential fillers to find requests.

  4. Having prompts filled is what makes a kink meme successful! Try to fill a prompt for every handful you leave.

There's a master list of fills in this post. Please link yours when you finish them!

"Perchance to Dream" Roxy/Gamzee 3/3

(Anonymous) 2012-03-29 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)
The second time they'd met, she'd been a bit confused at first. It was weird, having part of her knowing what was going on all of the time, and another part - the waking part - that was totally oblivious of her slumberland shenanigans. She recognized him, her fucked up dream troll, but she hadn't quite realized that he was .. well.. really real. Dirk had told her more than a few times about what he'd seen and done on Derse, how he'd keep an eye on her sometimes while she slept (the fucking perv), but she also realized that if that was where she was waking up - if she were really practicing conscious dreaming in another plane of existence - then somehow she only managed to open her eyes and become aware after she'd sleepwalked away from the moon.

Thinking about it too hard always just made her want to scream and punch through a wall, neither of which were terribly productive in terms of shedding light on anything, so she typically ended up punching only a minimal number of walls. At least they were all dream walls, so they never really mattered.

So when she ran into him again, it was kind of weird. But also.. kind of really nice. He became her first constant in that ever changing dreamland.

It'd been a few weeks - maybe a full perigee, even - and he looked like he was more tired than he was in a devious murdermode downswing. Actually, it looked like he hadn't slept the whole time, and when she'd said as much, she was mildly disturbed when she found out that wasn't too far from the truth. It wasn't until much later that they'd figured out that if he slept in a dream bubble, the horrorterrors couldn't creep their psycho alien speak into his mind, like if he were back on the meteor.

They'd sat and talked then. The setting was great for it - some weirdly colored, desolate landscape by an ocean that stretched as far as the eye could see, uninterrupted by neither house nor hive. He said it was on Alternia, somewhere, his home world. He said it was a lot like a place where he grew up, though it wasn't quite the same. He said he didn't want to talk about it anymore, so instead she filled the silence with a hundred stories of Earth, of herself, of what it was like growing up all alone underground. She pretended to not notice the way he sometimes made that face that said, clear as day, that his blood pusher was hurting for everything she'd never had, for the fact she was willing to tell him about it.

When she mentioned her meowcats, he smiled and said that he had a friend who liked animals a lot. But then he went really quiet again and didn't say anything more, so she just kept talking.

And when she ran out of things to say, they just sat there and watched the second moon slowly rise above the water, and everything felt just so .. calm. He put his arm around her, pulled her close, ran his long fingers through her hair and across her scalp like she was his pale bro, and she slipped her arm around his waist like she'd always imagined she'd do with Dirk if they ever were to meet, and she savored every minute of the silence.


The fact that he's a troll doesn't bother her. She's long ago come to terms that there might be some among the enemy whose company she'd actually like, and, well, technically he's not even part of the enemy, what with being from another universe and all. The fact that he's a troll isn't too startling, either. The novelty of aliens like him became passé sweeps, if not centuries, ago.

The fact that he's a troll is kind of exciting, really.

He's almost too big for her, and not just with his freaky troll bulge. She doesn't mind; she's surprised and kind of really glad that he's willing to go slow, that he doesn't use his claws or teeth anywhere near as much as she's always thought trolls did during sex with one another. Maybe they do. She's pretty sure that this sort of interspecies recreation doesn't happen all that often.

Hearing about it, or reading, or even seeing photos or videos of alien junk is way different from seeing it in person. "Wow," she says, then, "So can I touch it?" He takes her hand in his, turning it over and kissing her knuckles all light and careful, just like he'd kissed her lips and mouth, and then says in turn, "Was hoping a sister would ask."

She traces her fingers along the strange ridges of his bulge and across the softer folds of his nook. It's cool to the touch, just like the rest of him; it feels both smooth and rough like sharkskin, and there's this sticky-slickness that's starting to spread that's not entirely unpleasant. "Wow," she says again, and giggles, wrapping her fingers around his bulge and stroking down to the base, and she remembers that phrase that Dirk used a few times. "Never thought I'd get a handful of alien wingwong."

"Ain't that a motherfucking miracle," he agrees, then makes this completely amazing sound that's half a purr and half something else. She grins, drawing her thumb back along that one spot of his bulge that she's pretty sure was the cause of it, then grins wider when he makes the noise again. When she tries exploring with her other hand, fingers tracing along the edges of his seedflap, he goes all shivery, humming in the back of his throat, and says, "Lower, sis, just a little bit lower."

She obliges him and finds his nook, first letting her fingers ghost along the outside folds, and then slips the tip of one in when he makes this soft needy keen. And, oh, it's kind of like what she has, she decides, only not exactly, and she takes her time in slowly sliding her finger in and up and down to find out just how different he is - and how much the same. It's also pretty damn cool that he seems to like that even better, what with the way his breath keeps hitching, and how his fingers knead at her nape, and the way he tells her just how motherfucking miraculous she is.

He explores her, too, slow and careful and just as curious about how she's built as she is of him. When he asks if she has a secret bulge hidden somewhere, she just laughs and says no, says that boys and girls are built different as humans, but it's hard talking when he rubs the back of his knuckle against her clit and slips his tongue inside, so she stops trying and draws her fingers across the base of one of his horns, just to feel the way his answering purr rumbles all the way through her. When he finally comes up with his lazy smile and his pupils dilated, he watches the way she tries to catch her breath for a minute and then says, "At least you ended up with the better half of the deal, what with that freaky alien bulge-nook split shit you've got going on." And she can't help but agree, and when he shows her later on just how to press her fingers up inside him, and curl them forward just a bit, she completely gets why he likes that better than anything she does with his bulge.

It's when they try it with her on top, straddling his thighs as he sits back on the couch, that she fully realizes just how big he is, and at first she's worried that it's not going to work this way. He's okay with that, though, and that just makes her want to try again, and oh god is she glad they do when she finally eases down on him, bit by tiny bit, until she's only halfway to his lap. And she laughs and says she's sorry, says she can already feel him just starting to press against the back of her, and he reaches out and fucking shooshes her right then and there, settling her against his chest with her head tucked up beneath his chin even though he's already breathing heavy. When he asks her if she's ready, and she says yes, he starts doing this thing - kind of like he's twisting and turning, and really almost rippling in the same way a snake moves, bunching up its muscles and then pushing them in a new direction - and it's all she can do but hold onto him. It's nothing at all like how she's imagined sex with another human would be; the movement's all wrong. But that's not a bad thing.

In fact, it's a really really good thing.

When they're finally spent and lying in a tangled pile on the other end of the couch - the end they hadn't made a mess of, completely uncaring since it's just a dream bubble somewhere in the middle of nothing, transient and self-reparable - she finds that she feels relaxed, content, and it's a strange but good feeling. His hair is soft and dry and feels almost like really long meowcat fur. She likes drawing her fingers through it, unsnagging the tangles so it falls in a loose dark halo around his head.

She likes the way he purrs, and she wishes she could, too. She settles for lazy smiles instead.

Outside, the light's slowly fading from pastels to greys, and the way it filters through the windows turns everything inside sort of flat. Sort of dull. "Bubble's almost over," she sighs. "Yeah," he just says in return, tracing unseen patterns across her back and shoulders with the backs of his claws. When the dream passes away, fading back into the nothing, he'll be back on his meteor and she'll be .. well, somewhere in that nothing until she wakes up.

She wishes she could stay here longer, and she's pretty sure that he'd wish the same. He's told her some about the meteor, about the lab on it, and while it sounds like he stays busy - learning all of its secret hidey holes, learning the intricacies of what his rage can be and do when it's both there and not there at all - he always sounds kind of sad when he talks it. She knows just why his pale bro pities him so much, because she can't help but do the same. She curls around him tighter and rubs her fingers through his hair and across his scalp.

He makes another of those louder purring sighs, then starts to murmur in that low, lilting cadence of his that's almost musical, "It's gonna be rough leaving behind my wicked little sister this time, but that's how all those miracles go, fading in and out, like they're all flowing here and there. And ain't no way in knowing how they really work, what they really mean, but I kinda like spending time in them. And damn, girl, ain't no way in hell that this motherfucker's gonna get the same kinda pity from his pale brother back on a rock where it's still all one against the other after all this murderraging, murderraging-"

With a laugh, she reaches up and paps his mouth - overreaching it a bit and catching the side of his nose instead, but she still manages to cut him off. "Mr. Makara, are you actually rapping at me?" He laughs, too. "Yeah, I guess I right up and was. Got kinda caught up in the moment, you know? Been a while since I tried out any fresh jams, but what's a motherfucker to do but listen to what his blood pusher's telling him when it feels like the right motherfucking thing to do."

"Yeah," she agrees, though it still strikes her as funny in a kind of awkward-sweet sort of way. And it fits right in with that one side of him that's not a cunning deathmonger, the side that he says was always made stronger by eating all that sopor. She imagines it's even nicer now that it's not as forced. "I think you and Di-Stri should meet sometime and have some sort of epic rap-off, if only for the lulz. It'd be hilariously terrible."

He murmurs, "You tell that motherfucker anytime, any place, and I will motherfucking school him in the ways of the Murdermirthful Messiahs reborn." And he's lightly scratching at her nape and scalp like there's nothing more in the entire universe he'd rather do than have a post coital feelings jam on a couch in a dream bubble in the middle of nowhere with some crazy alien from another universe who won't even remember him when she wakes up.


When she sleeps and dreams, everything makes more sense.

When she wakes, mind still fuzzy from a cloud of alcohol, she tries to remember - something important, something real - but it always slips away. There was something good this time, really good, kind of like there've been somethings that were scary before, too. But it's gone now, and as she gets up off of her pile of plush toys, she remembers that she had a lot to do today.

There's a message from Dirk on her laptop. Or maybe it's from AR. The flashing icon's the same. Either way, that's kind of convenient since there's something that she needs to tell him if she can damn well remember it.

And if she can't. Well.

It couldn't have been anything too important.

(Anonymous) 2012-03-30 12:15 am (UTC)(link)
ahh this is great! you have such strong voices for both of them, and man, you make me feel for Roxy so much ;;

Re: "Perchance to Dream" Roxy/Gamzee 3/3

(Anonymous) 2012-04-01 11:51 pm (UTC)(link)
OP here, and this is amaaaaaaaazing! More than I could have hoped for and long after I had given up hope! How did you manage to write this scenario and have Roxy and Gamzee be deliciously good for each other? And make it be tragic anyway?

Re: "Perchance to Dream" Roxy/Gamzee 3/3

(Anonymous) 2012-05-22 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)
wow, this is awesome and really hotdorable. :)