B-B-B-BEATDOWN.
Chapters 14 & 15 of Cum mortuis in lingua mortua are up!
You can also start from the beginning by clicking here!
B-B-B-BEATDOWN.
Chapters 14 & 15 of Cum mortuis in lingua mortua are up!
You can also start from the beginning by clicking here!
KOREAN BOY BAND AU
Dirk scrolls through another fanfiction archive, this time featuring a graphic blow job scene in a college dormitory between him and Mituna. Mituna? Really? Out of all the attractive men in this group he could be slashed with and the author chose Mituna?
Although, he can’t complain, this scene is a lot better than some of the other shit he’s read today. He should know anyway, since he’s got a discerning eye when it comes to matters of erotica. Seriously though, this story’s better than the mer-centaur-in-heat AU with him and Eridan. And he even bookmarked that one.
The set producer tells him he’s on for another take in five, and Dirk reluctantly locks his phone. What’s the scene they’re filming right now? Oh right, the duet with… Mituna. How ironic.
He wonders if there’s something to it. Perhaps he should try subtly grabbing Mituna’s ass when they go back to back, that one always gets ‘em.
INTERNATIONAL CHESS GRANDMASTER PRACTICE SESSION AU
Look, think, place, time. It’s such an oft-repeated pattern you wonder how you can manage it some days, how you can manage the dry monotony of those ever-predictable squares. There are competitors you squish under your metaphorical boot so easily you sometimes think about retiring early without pomp and ceremony. But this guy, this guy makes you remember why you love this game.
He’s like a computer— so efficient, never hesitating, never playing into tricks or well-known strategies. He’s your match, your shadow, the left brain to your right. You duck and weave and dance around his equations and it’s so beautiful you could cry. You have to take pause when you both somehow managed to tango yourself into a stoic board, where no pieces exist in immediate danger of being attacked. You spare a glance up at him, uttering a completely unironic, “Fantastic.”
He smiles, and says something in Czech. You’re shamefully starstruck for a minute, before he moves his bishop to E5. You glance down, seeing your options light up before you in the multiple paths the game could go down, and they all lead to the same place- Czechmate.
You resign by slipping him your hotel room number.
ROLLER DERBY AU
You’ve been staring point blank at Vriska “Spinneret” Serket’s cupped, supple ass for at least ten minutes. Perhaps longer.
You’ve really lost track of time just staring at her round buttcheeks, bouncing in your face as you crouch behind the jammer line. Jesus Lord on High, can your coach just finish his speech already? You don’t know how much more of this you can take, you’re going to acquire the case of the vapours and they’re not going to be pleasant.
Is she wearing padding under her leggings? Who even does that? Is she trying to hide something? You have a feeling it’s not just for the safety factor, it has to be something flirtations. Perhaps your infatuation-combo-infuriation with the star jammer of team Alternia has just a tiny bit to do with discerning how much of that butt is purposed for promiscuous purposes. It also might be a terrible excuse you’re fashioning for yourself in an attempt to pass off vulgarity as scholarly interest but, well, you’ll take what you can get.
The coach blows the whistle, and you are promptly left eating dust as Vriska surges off in front of you. Well, damn.
SUSHI BAR AT MIDNIGHT AU
Terezi Pyrope, sushi chef extraordinaire, juggles her knives with the grace of a thousand ugly swans.
A very drunk Rose watches in awe, her gaping mouth only closing in order to take a sip of her sake. Terezi cuts into the salmon, slicing it just so as to not ruin the grain, creating the perfect topping to that little paddy of sweet rice. Rose licks her lips, and not entirely due to her imagining of the salty creation she will soon taste. Terezi lays her creation on the wooden dish in front of her.
“So,” says Rose, trying hard not to slur and failing by a mile. She thinks of an excellent pickup line, made even better by her woozy brain. “What are you doing later, good looking?”
“This. It’s my job.”
“How would you like to… like to…. like to eat some of that… off my. Naked. Body.”
Terezi pauses in the midst of her art, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I’d love that. How about at one AM?”
“Perfect.”
THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU AU
After hours of work, decades of study, and one very expensive private island later… You’ve done it! You’ve managed to vivisect medicine’s new modern miracle! The mermaid!
Well, okay, she’s not really a mermaid, she’s more of a fish… person… thing… but it’s the thought that counts, right? Besides, she’s pretty good looking, too.
“Hi!” she says, sitting up on your operating table. Oh, that’s good, she’s still got a grasp of the English language! You’re glad you did the splicing right. “Who are you?”
“I’m Dr. Harley! I made you!”
“Why?” your human/fish friend asks.
You shrug. She accepts this. “Do you want to pick out a name for yourself?”
She blinks at you with those big, goobery eyes. Oh, you suppose you have to teach her about that kind of stuff, huh? Well, you’re definitely glad to do that! You grab her hand, and help her off the table. You’ll probably take her to your private library first, she’s got a whole world out there to start exploring with you!
KARKAT’S AN EARLY 19TH CENTURY HAITIAN GENERAL AU
Kanaya presses the lapel down on his blazer, pinning it with smooth strokes and soft fingers. She does the golden buttons next, sliding them through each delicately embroidered hoop, admiring her handiwork and how they elegantly contrast the soft, red scarf wrapped around his neck.
She finishes him up perfectly, takes a step back, giving him final a glance up and down before she deems him fit for public appearance. He’s missing something, he looks…
“Do I look sufficiently pompous yet? Have you made me look like a fucking prince of nations?”
Ah, that’s what’s missing. He’s too put together for his sharp speech. She gets close, perhaps a little too close for a professional environment, and unbuttons the top three clasps of his jacket. His collar sags to the right, opening up more of that red scarf, making it pleasingly asymmetrical. She holds on to the lapel, rubbing her thumb against the smooth silk, not daring to look up at his face only inches away. He smells like thyme. She bites her lip.
“Yes, I’d say you do.”
AU OF MY UNDERWORLD AU (apologies, anon! This is self indulgent and won’t make sense unless you’ve read up to chapter 5)
“I’m so sorry!” she says, putting her hands together like she’s praying for fucking forgiveness. Yeah right. “I just tried to teleport you! I have a really hard time dealing with modern physics! Things were so much simpler back in the day…”
You twirl your butterfly knife threateningly above the picnic table, accidentally hitting yourself in the hand in the process. Fuck, now she knows it’s blunt and that you’re a dumbass with an ineffective butterfly knife. She’s totally going to murder you, isn’t she? Just smother you with her own drugged up shit and send you into screaming oblivion again. You point the knife at her anyway, for kicks and giggles.
“While I know there isn’t any empathy in the cold-blooded heart of a drug-dealer-” she facepalms at that, for some reason. It’s probably because you’re preaching the truth. “-try to look at it from my POV here. One minute, we’re having a nice fucking ride on my Vespa down County Road 3, and the next, I am shooting myself ass backwards through the enormous vacuum of starry space after almost getting hit by a truck. Tell me that would not induce PTSD. Look into my fucking eyes and tell me that your marijuana hallucinogenics deserve nothing but harsh punishment.”
“Marijuana doesn’t give you… ugh, nevermind!” She smacks her hands down on the table. “You are absolutely impossible! I’m going to prove to you once and for all that I am a god who needs your help!”
“What? No. No-nonononononono-” She reaches for your forehead too fast for your slow reflexes. Oh, GOD she’s going to slip you something through her fingertips, isn’t she? Just send you spinning into a salvia filled galaxy of terrible…
When she makes contact, you lose contact. You lose everything. Sense of self, sense of sight, sense of personhood, sense of being Karkat fucking Vantas. You just are.You’ve never been the Zen monk type, the kind of person to let things flow by like shit doesn’t get in the way, but you feel like you could be living on top of a mountain swathed in yellow right now. You feel whole, you feel complete, and for the first time in your pitiful, suddenly meagre life, you feel like an open book.
Jade starts flipping your pages. And it feels good. Like being out on the night sea with the wind at your back. You know it’s Jade because she’s all stars and warmth, shining at the back of your blind eyes. It’s weird, like she’s flooding into you, but you don’t fucking mind at all because it’s like being in a submersion tank filled with sheer euphoria. It feels like whatever she did to you last night, but without all the blood pumping and thrusting. It’s floaty and giddy.
When she lets go of you, the first thing to return to you is a sense of loss, the second is a sense of sight, and the third is the sense of shame as you notice tears are pouring down your fucking face. Fuck you, why do you have to be such an utter pansy sometimes? You cover your eyes with your sweatshirt sleeve.
“So?” says Jade, quietly, like she’s afraid of breaking you. She probably could.
“I, er,” Fuck yourself in the ass, you can barely talk. Pull it together. You want to say, ‘okay, that was totally salvia, wasn’t it?’ but that’s way too many syllables to string together so your dumb ass subconscious decides to spout out “What are you the god of?” instead.
“Open spaces. And friendship. And gardens, sometimes.”
You rub the tears from your eyes. “That’s… so fucking random.”
She hesitates, smiling a little. “You know… you’d be surprised how many people say that.”
16TH CENTURY ITALIAN UNIVERSITY AU WHERE SWEARING IS OKAY BUT BOOBS ARE NOT
Oh gosh, these chest bindings are absolutely unbearable! But it’s worth it just to get into this place, just for the experience of getting an education. You’re so going to be secret girl-pope one day, goddammit, or at least a cardinal.
You make sure no one’s in the hallway when you slip into your room. It always helps to be extra safe before you let everything free! You close the iron door tight, throw off your robes onto the straw bed, and start unbinding. Yes, hell yes, boobs are now out and about.
You hear a knock on your door. Crap! You’re screwed. Pretend you’re not here…
“Jake?” says the voice. Oh no, it’s Karkat! He’s your friend too, he’s never going to forgive this… If he opens that door you’re screwed! “Jake, are you there? I’ve got some shit ass assignment I’m supposed to drop off for you.”
You wait in dead silence for five seconds. Maybe he’ll leave? Oh, nope, he’s opening the door. Shit.
You rush him before he can fully get in, pulling and slamming him against the opposite wall while you kick your door shut. Good thing he’s kind of a wimpy university scholarly type, otherwise this would be a challenge.
Even though he literally cannot look down right at the moment, you know he knows, judging by that gigantic blush on his absolutely stunned face and how you’re really pressing up against the guy.
“Not. A. Word.” you stage whisper.
He starts to stammer, but it’s not as loud as usual, which gives you a little bit of hope. “I-I-I- How. How in the actual fuck did you- fucking hell, this is such a sin right now. I am going to hell just for being in this room.”
You tighten your grip around his collar, continuing to whisper. “You’ll be going to hell much sooner if you say anything about this!”
His eyes open wide, and you can watch him go through the inner turmoil of ratting out a friend who is suddenly quite attractive vs Jesus laws. The former side wins. “Okay.” he whispers. “Okay. Fuck, just let me out of here so I never have to think about your mammalian chest sacks ever again.”
You nod, and let him scurry out of the room, eyes cast downwards, shutting the door behind you. Well, that wasn’t half as bad as it could have been. Besides, at least somebody knows now?
And the weirdo conservative types with repressed anger always make the best lays.
COLLEGE AU (THE GHOST LIBRARY ONE)
You close your laptop, take a deep breath, and let your head sink down into the old library desk. Oh, god, yes. You’re finally done. Done at 3AM, way ahead of schedule. You are done with this essay and now you can sleep until noon and go turn it in at the last minute and then go home for the holidays. Whew.
Or, well, that would have been your plan if you didn’t suddenly hear a scream echo from behind a shelf. Someone’s in trouble! Jade Harley, to the rescue! You rush to the source of the noise and find… that weird, yell-y dude in your English class lying helplessly on the floor.
“I just saw a ghost,” he mutters, his eyes dead to the world. “A ghost of a student who died just like how I’m going to: by over-studying myself off a cliff and into the spiky pits of ass backwards writing.”
Oh gosh, he’s lost it. “I think you need to take a break.” you say. “You’ve been reading too much Gothic literature.”
“There are no breaks in death! There is nothing but the dark abyss, coming to jam itself up my asshole like some kind of cold metal pipe.”
“Yeah, okay.” You’re really tired, and this guy clearly needs help, or caffeine or something, so you sit down next to him. Hey, yeah, maybe you could go get something at the cafe! It should still be open at this hour. “Wanna go get coffee?”
He looks at you like you’re interrupting his brooding session, sighs, and says with resignation, “Sure.”
ORCHESTRAL CONCERT AU
He’s beautiful, you think, listening to the waning notes of the orchestra. It rises and falls in waves of blue, cascading into towers, building up into the heavens like some grand, golden monument.
You feel it, you can imagine it, each sway of his baton as he creates this living painting. You bite your lip as red, sharp as the violin, trickles down through the music, adding the accent that you so craved. He’s a master, this conductor is a master, you have to meet him or you might die.
A few white lies and flashes of your cane later and you’ve gone backstage. Now the tricky part is how to find him! You bump on-purpose into the timpanist and they direct you to him out of some misplaced debt. You restrain the urge to rub your tongue all over his face in the attempt to figure out what he looks like, but you can’t stop yourself from giving him a gentle touch to the arm.
“Maestro Strider,” you say, flashing one of your charming grins. “Consider me a fan.”
He invites you home that night.
ANCIENT ALIEN RACE AU
The first archeologist on the planet Illmater, she thinks proudly, as she descends in her small buggy. None of the others are brave enough, prestigious enough, or stubborn enough to descend down into that poisonous atmosphere alone. She’s the only one who can do it, after all.
Though, she has to admit, this grand auto-locked door is puzzling her. It’s the one thing keeping her from accessing that old civilization. She bangs on it in frustration, glad that none of her colleagues are around to witness her display…
And a small hologram fizzles to life in front of her. It looks similar to her, albeit with spiky hair and pointed glasses. Perhaps it senses her species and compensates for it? The personal touch of the sunglasses is a bit odd.
“‘Sup.” it says.
“‘Sup.” she says.
It asks if she wants to go inside, and when she says yes, asks her for a riddle as a joke. She answers it perfectly, gives him a riddle, and he refuses to answer it by deflecting with some xenophiliac joke. It’s possibly the most intelligent thing she’s ever heard, and she keeps talking. And talking. And debating with this oddly self-indulgent AI. And before she knows it, she has to go back to home base and explain what she learned on her expedition.
Filing the report is going to be hard for this one.
NUN AU (this is it, this is the worst au I’ve ever done)
It’s not like you wanted to start out-competing her in religious activities, you just wanted to win. But it’s infinitely harder to flaunt your glory when you’re committed to a vow of silence and she’s blind as the judge of heaven. Is it a sin to want to triumph over your fellow man? Whatever, you skipped that day of nunnery school.
Still, you find other ways. Punching her in the shoulder when she fucks up in the garden, poking her a little too hard when she folds the laundry wrong, pinching her ass when you’re in the middle of mass and you can just tell she’s not listening… It’s not like it’s unfair or anything, since she does all those things back. Especially the butt pinch one, which is more fun than you’d like to admit.
Doesn’t matter though, as long as you fucking win.
FATHER DAUGHTER GIRLSCOUT DANCE AU
“Are you… sure you’re allowed here?”
“Yes, Kanaya, don’t worry. I am quite comfortable in this environment.”
At six years old, you’re already put-together enough to be embarrassed that you don’t have a dad to dance with at your troop ball. All the other little girls have dads… why can’t you? You don’t even have a mom, you just have your big sister. Which, well, you’re usually totally fine with since she gives you the best dresses, but looking around at all the other kids stepping on their dads’ feet… you can’t help but feel a little sad.
“What’s wrong Kanaya?” Your big sister smiles at you. “Not feeling good?”
Maybe it’s not fair to be that way to Porrim. She’s doing the best she can, and she looks way better than all those other dads anyway. That dress is so next season it’s not even funny. You look up at her.
“Can I dance on your feet?”
She lifts you up by your hands and you have the best father/daughter day ever.