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feralseraph · 4 years

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some thoughts while reflecting on suicidal ideation. just heads up this is really really long lol and i don’t expect anyone to read it i’ve just been jouranling a lot and i decided it was normal and reasonable to share these kinds of thoughts with 2k strangers on tumblr.

btw im fine i prommy im just like venting basically. and pls don’t reblog this it’s embarrassing stream of consciousness crazy talk <3

in the moment when you’re spiraling and feeling completely helpless you can only feel sad. after that moment has passed, it feels like “wow that was fucking dramatic”. it’s like being angry at yourself for thinking that somehow you’re too special to suffer along with everyone else.

a lot of people don’t have it easy. so many people struggle their entire lives why should i be any different? do i think im better than other people?

i just want to tell myself to suck it up. it never works though, inevitably there’s another spiral and im stuck feeling like the saddest little weenie on the whole planet.

suicidal thoughts can seem irrational but it never feels that way in the moment. especially when you’ve dealt with it for so long. half of me tells myself im being stupid and it’s such first world problems but the other half of me is like, it’s always been this way there’s no other way to be.

the annoying thing about suicidal thoughts is that there’s always a little spark of hope. there’s always that devil/angel thing going on where you convince yourself life is meaningless and hopeless and there’s no point in staying but then you’re like well what if this happens and that makes it a little more bearable. for years i would just pray that the dumb little hope spark would just die out already but it hasn’t and it probably won’t no matter how much i’ve convinced myself there’s no point in anything.

it’s human nature to want to survive. your body tries to keep you alive whenever you’re hurt. if you’re bleeding or suffocating or otherwise seriously injured your body is fighting to keep you alive even when you don’t want it to. could you imagine if your body didn’t try to stay alive? like if you got anything worse than a paper cut and you just endlessly bled?

not trying to make it religious. you can if you want, but i don’t really have that belief. what creature doesn’t try to keep itself alive? plants will regrow if a deer nibbles them too much. so yeah if you get hurt your body is gonna try to heal that hurt.

suicide. self harm. trauma. are all hard things to talk about and to hear about. well, everyone always wants the gruesome details but hearing about the thought behind it is way less interesting.

because it sounds really simple that well, people who hurt themselves or who talk about dying are experiencing [quote from the DSM] and yeah but that also makes it seem like they’re being irrational

when you’re really thinking that life isn’t worth living it feels completely rational. you’ve thought of every avenue of trying to live and none of it seems worthwhile and you’re also just fucking tired. it doesn’t seem worth the effort.

life can be really long or it can end unexpectedly. imagining a long life and sometimes you can only see how everything will continue going wrong forever. it’s not just being pessimistic sometimes it’s seeing a pattern in your life where things keep falling apart. sometimes it’s seeing the world around you and feeling like you don’t want to be part of the insanity anymore. and no amount of hand drawn comics with fuzzy blue kittens or memes about all the sunrises you’ll miss can make you feel differently. who cares about the sunrise when you hate waking up everyday? who cares about the sunset when you have nightmares all night?

not saying that there’s no way to help people who are suicidal but that maybe the same approach doesn’t work for everyone. there doesn’t always have to be an approach of trying to find a solution to every concern they have. sometimes if you just let people talk it helps just to say it.

because it feels crazy. you feel like an insane person because who the hell wants to die? who’s that dramatic? at least that’s how it can feel. it’s really alienating and isolating to feel like you can never be honest with anyone because they’ll never see you the same way again. suddenly you’re a fragile little egg and they have to “check in” on you to make sure you haven’t finally cracked. i think it’s possible to keep people safe without making them feel like they’re under a microscope.

obviously it’s hard to listen to someone talk about really heavy stuff and i wouldn’t expect people to always be down for that. sometimes it just helps to know that someone out there even knows that you’re struggling. because it feels so shitty to keep it all inside and maybe you don’t want to talk about it all the time.

it’s not about making your friend group your personal crisis counselors. it always goes back to the idea that it’s not really acceptable to openly talk about struggling and that should change.

it’s a tragedy when anyone feels like they can’t take another day in the world. there are so many things that need to change in order to support people who feel that way because it isn’t always just linked to mental health alone. things like poverty or ongoing abuse can exacerbate it.

people really love true crime. they love hearing ghastly details of abuse and murder. but people can’t face the fallout from things like that. the people left behind after the case is closed who are traumatized. people like to satisfy their morbid curiosity but there’s real people on the other end of that.

there’s no satisfying way to end a conversation about suicide. at least for me idk in the back of my head i’ll probably always feel like life is an opt out kind of experience even if i manage to find ways to make existence bearable. there’s never a perfect answer for everything.

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blatherkatt · 7 years

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Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 4: Prelude to Confrontation

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Abuse, neglect, mentions of terrorist activities, really ugly manipulation/toxic ideologies, discussion of past violence and death; Pesterlogs

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

The days that followed were, at the very least, less awful than Dave had been dreading. Bro predictably threw several shit-fits at Dave, of course, but that was to be expected. Karkat had to hide in the closet several times, but it never got to the point of Dave having to physically place himself in between Bro and the troll, so that was good.

The food situation was much less good. Bro made it very clear to Dave the second day after the raid on the mall that Dave wasn’t going to be given any extra money to buy food for the troll; the only way the troll would be eating was if Dave offered a share of his own food. Which he did — he wasn’t gonna starve the poor bastard — but God, did it ever hurt to do so. Dave knew he probably didn’t get as much to eat as he should as it was, and having to give up half of that went against his every instinct.

For all that everything was terrible, though, the troll was actually sort of nice to have around. Dave had apparently managed to accidentally kidnap the one person in the universe who talked just as much as he did. The guy was pretty private, and wouldn’t say much about his own life, but he had plenty to say about Dave’s old comic books and the dumb gossip magazine he’d managed to snag. It was…nice, being able to just talk to someone about shit that really didn’t matter. It was kind of like talking to Jade and John again. Nothing major to talk about, nothing to do, just bickering about nothing.

Karkat took everything he talked about so seriously, too, which kind of made it better. Dave had never seen someone who cared this aggressively about…everything, really.

(He made the mistake once of somehow getting Karkat on the topic of Alternian romantic comedies, and holy shit, this troll was a chick-flick loving nerd. Dave had ended up barely responding through the whole rant, entranced by the endless flow of words which were, to Dave, largely meaningless. He’d heard troll romance was complicated, but God Damn.)

The downside to these conversations came whenever Bro interrupted. Be it with a surprise strife or another errand to run, every time Dave came back into the room feeling jittery and on edge, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, somehow the troll caught on. And every time, he’d ask the same question.

“Why don’t you just leave?”

Dave wasn’t going to bother trying to explain it to an alien. The guy wouldn’t understand; Bro was…he was family, no matter how rough he was.

It wasn’t like the thought of leaving was completely alien. In truth, Dave was a little ashamed of how often the fantasy popped into mind, but he knew he’d never actually go through with any thoughts of leaving. Not again, anyway.

He had tried it, once, when he was fourteen. It had been about a year after the night Bro had caught him talking to Jade at three in the morning, chased him onto the roof without even a chance to grab his sword, given him a strife so severe Dave had practically had to crawl to the bathroom for the week afterward, and then broken Dave’s phone and laptop. A year completely cut off from anyone who wasn’t working at a hotel or a corner store or a friend of Bro’s. Late one night, something in Dave had just…broken. It wasn’t worth it, all the bullshit he put up with. He’d stolen some cash and crept out one night while Bro was out, with no idea where he was going to go, only that he couldn’t stay.

He was probably really fucking lucky it had been Ben who’d found him shivering in a bus stop and not Bro.

Ben had been kind, because Ben really was a pretty decent guy. He’d known Bro since the invasion, and unlike every other member of the raiders, he was well aware of Dave’s actual relationship to Bro.

That night, Ben had invited Dave into his truck (the van was used only for raids and was unregistered) and taken him to get a hot drink and talked to him for a long time. He’d explained that Bro was only rough with Dave because he wanted Dave to be strong, that it was all just training.

Dave had told Ben he couldn’t handle the “training” anymore, couldn’t deal with people dying and feeling alone all the time, that he didn’t understand why Bro was so upset with him all the time.

“I don’t even get why he hates trolls so much,” he’d said.

Ben had sighed and stared out the window for a long time before answering.

He talked to Dave abut the invasion, about how it had been long and hard, how the trolls had been brutal and bloodthirsty and merciless. Dave had heard all that before. What he’d not heard about, however, was the story Ben then told Dave about his uncle, Bro’s real brother.

Before, Dave had only heard of the guy in passing, and only when Bro was drunk and shooting the shit with Ben about the old days (something they did every Wednesday). All Dave had known before was that the guy had died, and that Dave was named after him. Ben talked in detail, though, about how Bro and his brother had been an inseparable team, how brave Uncle Dave had been, how he’d run into battle completely unafraid of death, and how losing him had affected Bro profoundly. Ben talked too about how the rest of the fighters had rallied together after the guy’s death and fought back harder than ever, making the trolls pay for every drop of blood they spilled.

“He never would have wanted all this,” Ben had said. “Wouldn’t have wanted his death to be in vain like this, to let the damn trolls take over half the planet in spite of everything.”

(Dave had wanted to interrupt, to argue that he didn’t feel like the trolls were taking over, that he thought they looked like they were just trying to survive — but he thought better of it and said nothing.)

Ben then turned to Dave with a look of real sorrow in his eyes. “Derek’s only hard on you because he’s scared,” he’d said. “He lost someone who meant the world to him, once, and he wants to make sure you’re strong so he won’t lose you, too, that’s all. He needs you, kiddo. You’re all he’s got left.”

It had all settled on him at once, then, like a great weight. He’d thought that before, that he was the only family Bro had left, but hearing someone else say it out loud had made it so real. Like a thunderbolt, or some hellish train bent on flattening him to the rails in some morbid Pollock painting, guilt had barreled into him, settling across his shoulders with unbearable force. He’d almost cried. Hadn’t, because Striders don’t cry, but it had been a near thing.

He’d asked Ben to take him back home, and Ben had promised not to tell Bro what had happened.

Ever since, every time the thought of leaving crossed his mind, that unbearable guilt settled across his shoulders again, chasing the thought back into the darkest corners of his mind to be buried alive and smothered by shame.

The Wednesday after the Great Mall Fuckup, as Dave had been mentally referring to it, things were progressing as usual. It had been a pretty okay day, all things considered; Karkat had only had to hide in the closet once that day, so that was probably an improvement. Unfortunately, though, Dave got stuck washing dishes, which meant he had to listen to Bro and Ben talking about Brave Uncle Dave again.

Dave felt like Ben meant the story to be inspiring, but mostly, it just made Dave feel kinda shitty.

He wasn’t sure if he believed in things like ghosts or angels or whatever, but if they were real, he really hoped his uncle couldn’t see what a fuckup the kid they’d named after him turned out to be.

Sometimes, when things got really bad, he had to fight to keep himself from hating his Uncle. He was just some guy who’d died in a war that ended when Dave was a year old, but he’d left these huge-ass shoes to fill, and hadn’t left Dave so much as a pair of really thick socks to help keep the damn things from falling off.

Ben abruptly derailed Dave’s train of thought before it could get too tangentially weird about socks and ghosts by saying something Dave didn’t know what to make of:

“The other one’s coming soon, isn’t he?”

Something about the sly way he said “other one” set Dave on edge. He didn’t dare ask, though - Ben had pretty clearly directed the question at Bro, and the last time these two had boozed and Dave had interrupted, he’d had to pick glass shards out of his shoulder for two hours. He did, however, turn his ear as subtly as he could, listening intently in the hopes that they’d clarify, or give some further hint.

No such luck. Bro only nodded, a small smile tugging at one side of his face. “On the twentieth,” he’d said.

“Be good to see ‘im again,” Ben said. “He’s gotta be all grown up by now. You got anything in mind to test ‘im?”

This conversation was taking a rapid nosedive into Start Panicking Valley, set on a collision course with the infamous city of Absolutely Nothing Good Will Come Of This.

“Hm,” Bro said, glancing out the window.

Ben leaned in and whispered something in Bro’s ear. They shared a grin as he pulled away. Dave could hear that metaphorical conversation plane plummeting, glorious over-the-top stock cartoon sound effect in place, this was it, doom was coming, everybody head for your basements.

“So, li’l man,” Bro drawled. Dave jolted, nearly dropped a plate into the damn sink. The playfulness to Bro’s voice gave Dave more reason to panic than any threatening tone Bro could muster.

“Yeah?” Dave said. It took just about every ounce of willpower he had to keep his cool.

“How’s that little prisoner of yours been doing, anyway?” he asked.

“…Uh, fine, I guess?” Dave said. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, that was it, there’s the impact, buildings are exploding, people are screaming, this conversation has reached peak awful — “Kinda bored, I think, and he’d probably be better if you let me buy him some extra food, ‘steada making him share half of my own shit, but…”

“Well, we can’t have him being bored, now,” Bro drawled. “You’d better scurry along and entertain ‘im.” Ben cackled.

It was an out. Thank god, the entire city was on fire and Dave was overheating. Scraps of plane metal everywhere. Absolute disaster. He shoulda fuckin’ evacuated five hours ago, but no, little Suzy had to go back for her damn dog —

As he pretended not to be running back to his room, he heard Ben comment very loudly that “You really ought to feed him better, Derek. You can’t be starving an honored guest like that!” The howls of laughter from both men that followed would probably serve as Dave’s nightmare fuel for the next several years, assuming Dave ever actually slept deeply enough to dream.

He rapped a bit too frantically on the bedroom door, jammed it shut when Karkat let him in, and ran a shaky hand through his hair.

“What the fuck was that about?” Karkat asked, eyes wide with concern.

“Dude, I don’t know what the fuck they’re planning, but I don’t like it one bit,” Dave said, his voice embarrassingly hoarse. “I have got to get you out of here fuckin’ ASAP.”

— gallowsCallibrator [GC] began trolling timeausTestified [TT] at 3:14 PM 03/19/2015 —

GC: OK4Y 1M CH3CK1NG 1N ON3 L4ST T1M3 TO M4K3 SUR3 3V3RYTH1NG 1S S3T ON YOUR 3ND

GC: S1NC3 YOU 4R3 1NS1ST1NG ON 4VO1D1NG 4LL CONT4CT W1TH US UNT1L TH1S 1S OV3R

GC: WH1CH 1 ST1LL CONS1D3R TO B3 4 V3RY B4D 1D34 FOR TH3 R3CORD >:[

TT: Yeah, I got that the first fifty times you said so.

TT: Jesus, you sound just like Rose. The two of you could do a fantastic impression of a broken record if you ever teamed up.

TT: You’d leave everyone speechless with how spot-on that shit is.

GC: TH4T 1S B3C4US3 YOUR S1ST3R 1S FULL OF TH1NGS L1K3 GOOD S3NS3

GC: TH1NGS WH1CH YOU 4R3 SOR3LY L4CK1NG L4T3LY

TT: I stand by what I’ve been saying all along.

TT: We’re lucky this chance exists at all. We can’t risk jeopardizing this by giving him any reason to think I’m working with the police, and that means I have to go it alone, without talking to you all beforehand.

GC: 1 4M T3LL1NG YOU 1 DO NOT TH1NK TH1S 1S GO1NG TO GO 4S SMOOTHLY 4S YOU TH1NK

GC: YOUR F4TH3R 1S NOTH1NG 1F NOT OVERC4UT1OUS 4ND SUSP1C1OUS

GC: H3 1S NOT GO1NG TO B3 34SY TO SURPR1S3

TT: It will work. I’ll make it work.

TT: I just need to make sure he has no reason to suspect me.

GC: H3 DO3SNT N33D 4 R34SON TO SUSP3CT YOU

GC: H3S 4 SUSP1C1OUS B4ST4RD

GC: 1TS WH4T H3 DO3S

TT: We’ve been working on this plan for months. Are you trying to tell me that all those hand-picked officers you chose won’t be in position to back me up?

GC: 1 4M S4Y1NG TH4T 1 H4V3 4 B4D F33L1NG TH4T NO 4MOUNT OF PR3P4R4T1ON ON OUR P4RT W1LL B3 3NOUGH

TT: It will be. It has to be.

TT: This is the first real shot we’ve had in years.

GC: YOU 4R3 B31NG UNCH4R4CT3R1ST1C4LLY OPT1M1ST1C 4BOUT TH1S WHOL3 TH1NG 4ND 1T 1S M4K1NG M3 V3RY N3RVOUS

GC: 1 KNOW YOU W4NT TO B3 TH3 B1G H3RO 4ND S4V3 YOUR BROTH3R YOURS3LF

GC: BUT TH1S 1S R34LLY R1SKY

TT: Any plan to capture the old man’s going to be risky.

TT: This way, at least I can minimize how many people get hurt.

GC: YOU UND3R3ST1M4T3 YOUR OWN V4LU3

GC: 3V3N 1F YOU W3R3 TH3 ONLY ON3 1N D4NG3R

GC: WH1CH YOU MOST C3RT41NLY 4R3 NOT

GC: YOU WOULD ST1LL NOT B3 TH3 ONLY ON3 WHO WOULD B3 HURT BY TH1S

GC: 4 LOT OF P3OPL3 WOULD B3 MUCH WORS3 OFF 1F TH3Y LOST YOU

GC: 1 KNOW YOU L1K3 TO B3 4 S3LF D3STRUCT1V3 4SSHOL3 BUT COM3 ON

TT: I have to go. I’m going to miss my flight.

— timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering gallowsCallibrator [GC] —

“You really should listen to her, Dirk.”

Dirk sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Rose,” he said, turning to face her, “I’m going to miss my flight. This isn’t up for debate. I’m going.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Yes, I rather got that impression the fourth time you insisted,” she deadpanned. “If you would listen, you would notice that I’ve long forsaken any hopes of getting you to give up on this suicide mission of yours.”

“He contacted me,” Dirk said. “All I have to do is distract the old man long enough for the police to move in, and we can catch him. Get the old man behind bars, and Dave’s as good as home.”

“Honestly,” Rose said, “I find his contacting you first more suspicious than reassuring, but that’s hardly going to deter you at this point.”

“If you’re not trying to talk me out of this, then what do you want?”

Rose looked off to the side. Dirk leaned against his car and turned his own eyes to the ground. It was a nice day out, for March.

In four hours, Dirk would be in Texas. In twenty-six hours, he’d be face to face with his father. If all went well, then not long after that, he’d be bringing his brother home.

“I’ve had a feeling ever since he sent you that email,” Rose said. “I can’t quite explain it. I don’t know what is going to happen, but I feel that things won’t go the way you expect.”

“I know it’s risky,” Dirk said, for what felt like the thousandth time, “but I’ll make it work. It has to work. There’s no guarantees we’ll ever get another shot at bringing Dave home. I have to try, at least.”

“I know you do,” Rose sighed. “Just…be careful, alright? I know this plan’s important to you, but don’t trade your life for it.” Rose paused a moment. Dirk recognized the calculation in her eyes; she was choosing her words very carefully, now. He held back his response and waited for her to speak again. “I suppose what I’m getting at,” she said finally, “is that I don’t think our mother can handle losing any more children.”

Dirk took a deep breath. “She isn’t going to. I’ll be fine,” he said.

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s a promise.”

“Good,” Rose said, evidently satisfied. She stepped lightly across the gravel making up the driveway and gave Dirk an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “I know you can’t exactly check in with us every day, but…as soon as you can, call us, alright?” she said.

“Of course,” Dirk said. “Wouldn’t dream of keeping you and Mom in suspense.”

“We’ll be eagerly awaiting the good news,” Rose said, a playful smile flicking across her features. “Go on then, catch your flight.”

“Alright. See you in a few days.”

“Good luck, Dirk.”

Frustrations upon frustrations upon frustrations, this mission. It had taken six days, with several return trips to recheck the sources of the scents, making sure she had the smoke-belcher scent just right, and always the scents growing staler, the trail growing colder, but she had, at long last, found the right branch. She’d followed the smoke belcher’s trail until she’d detected Shout-Friend-Karkat’s scent again, at last out in the open, in the shadow of two great stone building. And again, his scent was mingled with that adolescent, fear-sour human.

(The fear scent was so heavily mixed with the adolescent’s, Pyralspite wondered if he knew how to not be afraid.)

But, just as she’d found the trail again, at long last, a new barrier stood in her way: a damned door, locked tight and with not enough give to it for her to shove it open anyway. Frustrating, so frustrating. She could have broken it down, if she’d really wanted, but this was a mission needing stealth and care, and to break the door down would surely attract far too much attention. She’d need to find another way into the big building.

The narrow passage between the two buildings was not quite big enough for Pyralspite to spread her wings, but she managed to climb up the one opposite the one Shout-Friend-Karkat’s scent had vanished into, scrambling along pipes and windowsills until at last she perched on the roof’s edge. This building was a bit smaller than the other, but there was enough room here to get a good running start —

A noise stopped her from taking off, however; the quiet noise of a window on the very top floor of the bigger building sliding open. Pyralspite ducked into hiding beneath the ledge along the top of the roof, leaving her nose just high enough to detect all that happened.

She couldn’t scent very clearly from here, but caught a flash of color quickly leaving the window, darting rapidly between the walls of the two buildings until it reached the ground. Nosing over the ledge, Pyralspite smelled it depart into the shadows of the alley.

The window was still open. She could investigate the identity of the flash later. For now, she had her way inside.

She waited a few minutes, and when all remained still and quiet, she readied herself to take the leap. She gave herself two body lengths to run, stretched her wings, thrust off the roof’s ledge, and glided gently across to the open window. Her landing was less than elegant, with a bit of scrabbling on the windowsill, but it was functional. Quickly, she slid into the room.

Immediately, her nose was overwhelmed with the scent of the Very Bad Human. Pyralspite had to stifle a croon of delight - with a scent this strong, he was likely living here, and he’d been near Shout-Friend-Karkat; this was a big find, for sure!

A noise from down a hallway to the side sent Pyralspite underneath the big futon in the center of the room. Not many places to hide, in this place. She recognized the scent of the person who wandered into the room immediately — the adolescent, for sure! Another good sign.

The adolescent rapidly muttered some words in human-language. Pyralspite missed most of it (so hard to understand, human languages; she got the feeling that a great deal of what this human said had little meaning, anyway), but caught a general feeling of annoyance. The human shut the window, and called something off to the side.

One thing she definitely caught, even through the adolescent human’s odd way of talking, was who he was talking to, and the scratchy voice that responded confirmed it — Shout-Friend-Karkat! He was here! He was here!!

March twentieth may as well have been the Day of Reckoning with how stressed Terezi and her team were feeling.

Two months prior, Dirk had informed Terezi that his father had contacted him (and attempts to trace his location through the email address had proved fruitless, damn that man and his endless paranoia, the fucker’s tracks were always covered somehow) asking to meet up on this day, here in Houston. Despite Terezi’s repeated pleas to Dirk and her superiors alike that she really didn’t think this would go smoothly, the plan had nonetheless been formed: Dirk would take the offer and act as bait, and the police would move in and trap Strider. It was a simple plan, and that’s what made Terezi so nervous. Strider didn’t do anything easy. There were so many ways this whole thing could go wrong and blow up in their faces, and Terezi didn’t trust it at all. But Dirk was a stubborn bastard with a fucking hero complex, and her superiors wouldn’t listen to reason, insisting just as Dirk did that this was the best chance they had.

Whatever. There was about two hours to go until that inevitable fiasco started. Dirk had been out of contact since the day prior, nothing Terezi could do about that, nothing left to do at all except wait it out and hope things worked right. The park where Strider had told Dirk to meet him was already carefully populated by plainclothes officers, and there’d been no sign of Strider yet. Terezi herself was waiting in a police car several streets down; she and her partner would be there in a flash, but Terezi couldn’t be on the scene until after the action started — he’d seen her before, she was too recognizable as a police officer, even in plainclothes.

Waiting for the start of something she felt in her bones to be an absolute disaster was absolute torture. The other troll in the car, an oliveblood going by the name Baxter (her regular go-to driver; they were a quiet one most of the time, but efficient and focused, and willing to stand back and let Terezi do her job in her own way), seemed equally tense, their hands tight on the steering wheel and their foot tapping anxiously.

The tense silence of the car was broken by the sound of a rapid beeping from one of the devices on Terezi’s belt. Both trolls froze.

“Fuck,” Terezi muttered under her breath. “You have got to be kidding me, Pyralspite, now?” She scrambled to pull her phone out of its holster on her belt, tapping in the passcode with fingers that instinctively knew where to press and shoving the device at her partner. “Where is she? How far away?”

She heard her partner’s unhappy sharp intake of breath. “Gonna be at least forty minutes to get to where she’s at from here,” they said. Terezi swore again.

“Fuck! With rush hour traffic that’s gonna be more like an hour, if we’re lucky. Ugh, dammit, dammit…”

“What did you send her out on again?” Baxter asked. They were checking on urgency, she knew; the real question here was, was this something they could afford to risk missing the Strider mission over.

“Rescue mission,” Terezi said. “Friend of mine fresh off the fuckin’ spaceship from Alternia got himself captured by someone in Strider’s crew, as best I can tell.”

“…Damn,” said Baxter. “Guess we better hurry, then.”

“Yeah,” Terezi groaned. Pyralspite had activated the silent alert, Terezi noticed. She hoped that was a sign that Karkat was still alive. After six days, the odds weren’t exactly great, but…if there was any chance he’d survived this long, they had to risk it.

She grabbed the car’s police radio as Baxter turned the key in the ignition. “This is Pyrope,” she said. “An emergency’s come up. Me and Baxter have to go, now. We might not be in time to help with this case.”

“Fuck, are you serious?” barked the response. “Pyrope, come the fuck on —”

“I don’t like it either, Powers! But that’s how it is! You’ll have to take over as lead on this one. You’re a big boy, you can do it, go on then. I never liked this plan to begin with, you know that damn well.”

“Somebody better be dying, Pyrope.”

“Not if I can help it,” she grumbled back, and shoved the radio back into its place.

The car pulled out and sped toward Pyralspite’s signal.

#homestuck #dave strider #karkat vantas #terezi pyrope #dirk strider #rose lalonde #calmvsstormfic #calmvsstormchapter #fanfic #fanfiction #katt does a writing #this is a very transitional chapter #stuff happens more in chapter 5 #which will also probably have more art #dont let daves liking ben as any implication that hes a good person #hes an enabler and is heavily responsible for a lot of why dave thinks that his treatment is ok #he wont show up a whole lot i just wanted to get the stuff about what happened to alpha dave in there #cuz that will be sorta important later

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birdys-dreams · 6 years

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12/16/18

Now this was a weird one. So i know ive had fandom-realated dreams in the past but the fact that it was supernatural based? Now thats funky. I remember three scenes in specific the first one was how it goes in every single episode "hey I'm FBI agent_____ and we're here about the weird murder" but Funnily enough I WAS THERE TOO. I dont think i was an FBI agent though, I was just a tag-along. Point is, we entered this huge building. It was an ice-cream related place. I dont remember the name of it but it was huge. It was about 2 floors high and an orange and green color scheme. We walked inside as the business seemed to be closing up for the day.

So this semi-fat police officer dude who's face is blurred out told us about the murder. There seems to be a room within the building like a telephone booth...or yknow a ticket box thing. There's like some sort of pinpoint or remains of the perpetrator because the police guy told us that: "the guy is very unnaturally strong, while it was sitting here it threw someone so hard that it crushed these glass" he proceeds to let us look up and see see a row of semi-unbreakable glass...well broken. It was a high celing-remember that...imagine like 20 feet up. It was also somewhat caved in, in a slanted position. And along the slant was the windows that are broken and seems to be a black shelf-life thing? Kinda like the back of the map compartment In Mortal Engines.

In the dream we never really see the body but we know it's there.

There was this one woman. (Very attractive mind you....she seemed faniliar but i cant pinpoint who it was....i seem to link her with the Indian lady in Mortal Engines..) She was prepping 2 smoothies and when she finsihed she gave it to Dean. Both of them. It was a light neon greenish liquid, it looked really appealing but she??? Gave it to us with both lids on top of each other? Like imagine one of them sat up straight, the other on top of it with the lid "connected" to the other one. I dont know why but thanks pretty lady. Oh the smoothie cup was transparent btw. Thats why i can see the lemon-lime looking ice smoothie.

So we we're sitting there chatting with each other trying to figure out what happened. Theres no convo or topic that i remember other than trying to figure out what it is.

We staked the night there and there was this odd scene where we had a dog(?) That Sam was playing with? Theres a tv playing in the background but Sam and Dean doesnt know about it because its in 3rd perspective. It shows cartoon figures of Sam and Dean and the dog...but it becomes morbid in the end like their eyes get crossed out or smth (cliché I know) but thats where everything goes to hell.

It seems as if we spotted the monster. It was a wolf-like thing. It was gigantic, probably 2 times the size of a human in full stature. One of the brothers looked at it and said "Wolverine" and a battle started. I don't remember the specifics of it but I remember that there was a super bright light, and everyone got to cover, except the dog. There was an explosion of some sort and it seems as if the dog's eyes were burnt out and riddled with ash. The dog's body wasnt burned per say but it's eyes were. The surrounding location of the ice cream shop was riddled with black smears as if made out of bomb residue.

There was a scene where the Wolverine stood up straight showing its humanoid features: black,furry, and a wolf snout. Next, it did the weird charging eyes-shining-light-explosion thingamajig. As Sam and Dean got to cover again.

Another scene consisted of Dean having some sort of blade that looked a lot like the Angel blade (OH IT LOOKED LIKE THE BLADE THE GIRL HAD AT THE BEGINNING OF MORTAL ENGINES) and-like an idiot mind you-ran towards the Wolverine creature and just...tackled it. I don't remember it but just know that Dean won pff.

Seems as if my brain has no concept of consistency because the next "scene" was of all of us in the same booth as the beginning and just chatting. We got 2 sets of the lemon smoothie thing and the same woman came over us. She was really attractive and had a dark skin color. Dean oogled at her and turned back 2 me and as the gay fuck i was I was thinking "god shes pretty i wanna look like her and i wanna date her." Seems like Dean had the same thought too, as he turned back to me and said, "Her? Mine." While laughing and?? We??? Started talking about me getting a tan??? And the I was like "yeah only a tan because if I synthetic my face to her same shade of color thats something called black face and that's racist" (I'm a very light-skinned Hispanic girl and I dont know??? Where that came from??I think its cuz a few days ago i saw a Tumblr post with Ariana Grande blackfacing so asdfghjkl I'm so prpud of dream me for being considerate.) also Sam ruffled my hair cuz?? it seems as if im an honorary Winchester or some shit??? Just know that I'm basically a child to the brothers and they're taking care of me and wow this sounds like some very shitty self-insert fan fiction what the hell. (Why wasn't Castiel there though?? I'm a Castiel fan first and i havent watched Supernatural in an actual long while so wtf)

There's probably a lotnof references to Mortal Engines because yesterday I watched the movie in theaters with my 2 friends: VN and FM. So... :D!!

So yeah thats the end of it all and?? Thats so fucking weird? Because when i woke up I woke up to my brother saying "Castiel dies again haha" but he doesn't??? Watch??? Supernatural??? He just knows a bit bcuz of my comments??? W h a t??

#dream journal

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