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peppermintfablesTitel: Repressing emotions, being ironic... the family business
Fandom: Homestuck
Author:peppermintfables
Rating: T
Length: 2504 words
Characters: Rose Lalonde; Dave Strider
Pairings: Rose Lalonde & Dave Strider
Additional Tags: Supernatural AU, as someone who has only seen the first three seasons, spn typical major character death, Siblings, Found Family, davekat and rosemary in later chapters
Links:
Ao3 Tumblr
Other Chapters:
2
A/N: So despite the fact that I have not seen a lot of SPN and what I've seen was years ago, during the time the finale came out I developed a lot of feelings about a Dean/Dave comparison and following that a Sam/Rose comparison. This is the product of that. I have written 4 chapters plus an intermission so far and posted two, but the whole things has been outlined, so I do plan on finishing it. It's just taking a while.
Summary: Dave wants to find his Bro, Rose wants to return to her normal live as a college student. Instead they get involved in some rituals, find themselves and a family and maybe save the world. The last part might pose a problem.
„On recent developments: Dave’s skills in shooting, hand-to-hand combat and knives is improving faster, since he’s actually going doing with the set training regiment without complaining. Despite that Rose still wins against him in a brawl. She just doesn’t hesitate.“
– /home/personal/twins/training_observations_11.odt , Bro Strider’s computer files
Your name is Rose Lalonde and you have the life you always wanted.
You have left the past behind you, started studying psychology at your first choice university, your apartment is small but enough and you have accumulated a small group of friends that you can depend on and that make you laugh occasionally. It’s nice. It’s normal.
If only your subject of study didn’t regularly remind you that the past isn’t left behind that easily.
To the point where sometimes it comes crashing through your living room window in the middle of the night.
You watch Jessica lock her car twice, first when you get out of the car and then again just a few steps later. She turns back as if she isn’t sure whether or not she has already done this and repeats it, just to be sure. She always does this, you note mentally.
Just an innocent habit? Or maybe a prior bad experience? You want to dig deeper, crawl in and find the roots of it, but it’s late and right now you need to go to bed, because there is class tomorrow, so instead you file it away for later and smile at Jessica.
“Thank you for the ride. It is appreciated”
Jessica gives you s slight smile back: “Oh, any time, really. Come on, I’ll bring you to your door.”
That might have been flirting. Or another sign of anxiety. You add it to your file while making inconsequential chatter on your way to the door. You’re still halfway in thought when Jessica says her goodbyes.
You’re no longer in thought when you see the entrance floor of your apartment. You haven’t really gotten around to decorating here – or anywhere else in the apartment.
You’ve been meaning to put up some pictures on the wall, to make it feel more like a home, for a while now. You just haven’t gotten around to it yet.
The relative emptiness of the room makes the small shimmer of light coming though the slit of the slightly open living room door even more noticeable. Your hands go to the stiletto knives hidden in your boots. You hadn’t managed to make yourself get rid of them. After all, you might have wanted to leave that life behind you, but that didn’t make you unaware of what’s out there. Silently you sneak towards the door and open it, knife in each hand, ready to jump.
You see glass splinters scattered on the floor and over most of your furniture. A cold night’s wind blows through the jagged remains of what was once your living room window.
You see your brother standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets.
“Sup.”, he says. “Sorry to just barge in like that, but you know how it is. Not that I don’t totally respect your space and shit, hell, I respect it more than an anxious teenage boy leaving room for Jesus during his first dance at prom. Hands all sweaty and he hopes nob-”
You don’t lower your knives and give him a look that clearly conveys ‘Get on with it’. He swallows and, with a lot of practiced calm, he says: “Bro’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”
You take the tea bag out of your cup while watching Dave crawl around on the ground with a dustpan.
“Surely this could have easily been avoided and my poor window might have been spared.”, you point out, when he gives out an annoyed sigh.
“I was going to! I’m a merciful burglar, I do nothing but spare windows all day long. I looked at your apartment and thought ‘No windows will be harmed in this breaking and entering’. It’s not my fault your window resisted, at that point a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do and in this case it’s taking a big stone and shattering that window into its tiny, resisting pieces. You have to show the window who’s boss, ya know. Good job in securing it though, maybe account for big stones next time.”
He puts the rest of the glass in the bin and sits across from you. When you gesture slightly, he takes the cup of tea you had readied for him.
“I will remember that. Did at no point in this process occur to you that maybe the reason the window was secured is that I did not want somebody to break into my room or was the need to show the window ‘who’s boss’ simply to great?”
Dave lets out a snort and takes a sip of his tea. He immediately makes a face as if it’s the worst thing he’s ever tasted and then takes another sip.
“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?”
“Have you considered waiting at the door? Or, god forbid, call?”
“Would you have let me in?”
You look down instead of answering. You would have, probably. You can’t imagine turning Dave away, especially now. But, with how the two of you split, you can understand why he would assume otherwise and you can’t bring yourself to correct him.
It might give him hope that things are gonna be like before you left hunting behind and they can’t be.
“I presume you want me to abandon my studies and help you find Bro then?”, you ask instead.
Dave gives you a look, like he noticed your change of topic, before he answers. You’re usually better at getting away with things like this.
“Well, yeah. It sounds kinda shitty, when you say it like that. But I… he didn’t say where he was going and, if whatever he found actually got him, I might need some back up. Not that that’s likely, Bro’s made of harder stuff. He probably just forgot to check back in, you know how he is.”
You do know. And you know how Dave is, too. You can hear the over-the-top confidence in his voice that betrays his anxiety. You know that Bro would not want him to be here and here he is anyway.
“Ill come. I’ll be able to catch up on most of my classes as long as I’m back in time for my exams. And I will be back for my exams.”
You leave him no room for argument. He gives you a small smile, as if the look you’re giving him right now hasn’t made several of your professors shit their pants.
“ No shit. I wouldn’t and couldn’t stop you from being a giant fucking nerd.”
“Then let us bounce.”
Your first stop is one of Bro’s contacts, a seer. Since Bro had left no hint of his current whereabouts or the job he had taken behind, Dave had thought that this might be the way to get a lead. Now you are walking into maybe the most tacky occult shop you have ever seen.
Listen, you get committing to an aesthetic for a bit but maybe that aesthetic should include less knock-off dream catchers. Have a bit of integrity.
The seer is expecting you and you don’t know if Dave called ahead or if she’s simply good at her job. She must be, otherwise Bro wouldn’t have bothered with her. You bet he liked the dream catchers.
She gives you a blinding smile and says in a calming voice: “Hello, hello, sit.” She gestures to two seats heaped over with colorful pillows in front of the table she’s sitting behind.
“My name is Cassia and I am so overjoyed to be your spiritual guide today and this meeting is surely bound to be fortuitous.”
When Dave and you give her identical deadpan stares, she flips her long hair and the smile turns into a smirk. You are 90% sure that Cassia is not her actual name.
“My, my, you both really take after Bro, don’t you? Always right down to business.”
Dave flinches the slightest bit and you think she notices. She really is good then.
“That would be sensible. We really don’t know if this is time-sensitive or how far we might need to travel. Expedience would be appreciated.”, you start, when it doesn’t seem like Dave is gonna take the lead.
She starts rummaging around her drawers and pulls out an assortment of crystals and symbols embroidered into cloth without giving either of you much attention anymore.
Not the right move either because you can practically feel Dave starting to vibrate next to you, thanks to the silence, before it bursts out of him: “Where do you get your info from anyway? Has to have a source, doesn’t it? Do you trade something for it or is it like a present, like does Santa show up and hand you a convenient little package full of other peoples issues. ‘Merry Christmas, this dude is cheating on his wife, Uncle Jason has gotten into some drama again and this is the place where the lost family member of these to fucked off to. Please use at your discretion.’”
Dave’s eyebrows are furrowed in clear suspicion. Your family possesses remarkable eyebrow skills.
Cassia looks at him as if he’s a cat that has just thrown up on your bed while you were trying to carry it away as fast as possible.
“Some of us are just blessed with more insight than others.”, she says in a measured tone.
“And if your question is whether or not this means a hunter like you needs to kill me, might I remind you that I have worked with your guardian, who is undoubtedly a hunter through and through, for quite some time and he has not seen the need to do so?”
Dave’s look doesn’t change, but, when he doesn’t say anything else, she continues: “Shall we begin then?”
From an ornate box that has been decorated with paintings of clouds, she takes out a stack of cards and starts shuffling them.
She handles them with ease and it’s quite mesmerizing to watch, cards flying through the air while still never seeming to leave her hands, faster than you can quite follow with your eyes, even though you try.
Then, out of nowhere, her hands seem to catch on something invisible, breaking her rhythm, and a card falls from the deck and lands on the table.
You see the image of the High Priestess before everything turns black.
Or not black. It is more...nothing. And then, all at once,the nothing becomes everything and it feels like too much and you want to scream except you are also everything, so everything screams. Suddenly the everything unravels, pieces falling off like petals, and it zeros in until you’re left with a scene of a man in a motel.
You have never seen the old-fashioned furnishing before and yet it feels incredibly familiar. It takes you a moment to become you again and you recognize the man as Bro. Glasses, hat, popped collar and seemingly unharmed.
You’d nearly forgotten how long it has been since you last saw him and you get the sudden urge to get out of here, to leave and go back to your studies. At the same time you have the bone-deep realization how satisfying it would be to just snap these fucking glasses into pieces.
He’s checking in and the man behind the front desk is giving him a key. This must already have happened a while ago. You mentally jot down the name, Bonnybridge Inn. You feel something like approval at the back of your head and then this last piece of everything falls away as well.
This seems to not have been part of the plan because Cassia seems both shocked and very determined to get rid of you when you wake up. With a last look to Dave and a murmured “You should be more concerned about that than the sources of my visions.” she practically shoves both of you out of her door.
“She didn’t even tell us anything.”, Dave says confused. “What the fuck just happened?”
You think of ‘Bonnybridge Inn’. You think of the overwhelming sensation of more than you could ever handle.
You think of the presence in the back of your head and the satisfaction you felt at the image of snapping Bro’s shades in half.
“Get in the car. I’ll fill you in on the way.”, you say out loud.
Bro had left the Chevrolet Silverado with Dave before going on this hunt. It had surprised you that Bro would leave his semi-ironic pick-up truck behind but apparently this had been established as a thing whenever Dave and Bro split up to go on separate hunts since you left.
One could mistake it for sentimentality. You’re sure that Dave does.
After a quick google search you find your destination to be Chicago, at least 2 days travel from where the two of you are right now.
Dave rummages through his pile of cassette tapes and puts something on that not only have you never heard of, your barely sure its a genre and it’s definitely not old enough to have actually been released on a cassette tape.
You look at the cassette case that reads ‘Meaty Fist Glassward’ and for a moment you consider making a comment about how this band has been gaining some traction, just to see if you can piss him off, but his face is blank in a way that reminds you of nothing good.
“So you could get started with the filling in now.”, he says, voice perfectly calm.
Part of you feels protective of the vision in some way, but the bigger part wants to make him see what you have seen, so you tell him the whole thing.
“We shouldn't trust that shit! Why did you get the vision, not the actual seer?”
“Well I hardly think we have another choice and it’d be foolish not to follow this up. And maybe I’m just better than her at her job.”, you say with a tone that may be slightly too smug.
Dave shoots you a look, except you can’t see his eyes and he doesn’t turn his face from the road so it ends up more like a disapproving grimace.
“Shouldn’t you be more unhappy? You were the one that wanted a ‘normal’ life and now you’re getting weird visions from some weird all-powerful hentai tentacle-monster.”
“There were no tentacles involved.”
“And I bet you’re real sad about that.”
He’s correct of course. About how you should be a lot madder at the situation. This is something that doesn’t fit in your plan and you hate it when things don’t fit in your plan.
But something about it feels so right.
Fandom: Homestuck
Author:
peppermintfablesRating: T
Length: 2504 words
Characters: Rose Lalonde; Dave Strider
Pairings: Rose Lalonde & Dave Strider
Additional Tags: Supernatural AU, as someone who has only seen the first three seasons, spn typical major character death, Siblings, Found Family, davekat and rosemary in later chapters
Links:
Ao3 Tumblr
Other Chapters:
2
A/N: So despite the fact that I have not seen a lot of SPN and what I've seen was years ago, during the time the finale came out I developed a lot of feelings about a Dean/Dave comparison and following that a Sam/Rose comparison. This is the product of that. I have written 4 chapters plus an intermission so far and posted two, but the whole things has been outlined, so I do plan on finishing it. It's just taking a while.
Summary: Dave wants to find his Bro, Rose wants to return to her normal live as a college student. Instead they get involved in some rituals, find themselves and a family and maybe save the world. The last part might pose a problem.
or
Dean Winchester wishes he had what Dave Strider has
„On recent developments: Dave’s skills in shooting, hand-to-hand combat and knives is improving faster, since he’s actually going doing with the set training regiment without complaining. Despite that Rose still wins against him in a brawl. She just doesn’t hesitate.“
– /home/personal/twins/training_observations_11.odt , Bro Strider’s computer files
Your name is Rose Lalonde and you have the life you always wanted.
You have left the past behind you, started studying psychology at your first choice university, your apartment is small but enough and you have accumulated a small group of friends that you can depend on and that make you laugh occasionally. It’s nice. It’s normal.
If only your subject of study didn’t regularly remind you that the past isn’t left behind that easily.
To the point where sometimes it comes crashing through your living room window in the middle of the night.
You watch Jessica lock her car twice, first when you get out of the car and then again just a few steps later. She turns back as if she isn’t sure whether or not she has already done this and repeats it, just to be sure. She always does this, you note mentally.
Just an innocent habit? Or maybe a prior bad experience? You want to dig deeper, crawl in and find the roots of it, but it’s late and right now you need to go to bed, because there is class tomorrow, so instead you file it away for later and smile at Jessica.
“Thank you for the ride. It is appreciated”
Jessica gives you s slight smile back: “Oh, any time, really. Come on, I’ll bring you to your door.”
That might have been flirting. Or another sign of anxiety. You add it to your file while making inconsequential chatter on your way to the door. You’re still halfway in thought when Jessica says her goodbyes.
You’re no longer in thought when you see the entrance floor of your apartment. You haven’t really gotten around to decorating here – or anywhere else in the apartment.
You’ve been meaning to put up some pictures on the wall, to make it feel more like a home, for a while now. You just haven’t gotten around to it yet.
The relative emptiness of the room makes the small shimmer of light coming though the slit of the slightly open living room door even more noticeable. Your hands go to the stiletto knives hidden in your boots. You hadn’t managed to make yourself get rid of them. After all, you might have wanted to leave that life behind you, but that didn’t make you unaware of what’s out there. Silently you sneak towards the door and open it, knife in each hand, ready to jump.
You see glass splinters scattered on the floor and over most of your furniture. A cold night’s wind blows through the jagged remains of what was once your living room window.
You see your brother standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets.
“Sup.”, he says. “Sorry to just barge in like that, but you know how it is. Not that I don’t totally respect your space and shit, hell, I respect it more than an anxious teenage boy leaving room for Jesus during his first dance at prom. Hands all sweaty and he hopes nob-”
You don’t lower your knives and give him a look that clearly conveys ‘Get on with it’. He swallows and, with a lot of practiced calm, he says: “Bro’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”
You take the tea bag out of your cup while watching Dave crawl around on the ground with a dustpan.
“Surely this could have easily been avoided and my poor window might have been spared.”, you point out, when he gives out an annoyed sigh.
“I was going to! I’m a merciful burglar, I do nothing but spare windows all day long. I looked at your apartment and thought ‘No windows will be harmed in this breaking and entering’. It’s not my fault your window resisted, at that point a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do and in this case it’s taking a big stone and shattering that window into its tiny, resisting pieces. You have to show the window who’s boss, ya know. Good job in securing it though, maybe account for big stones next time.”
He puts the rest of the glass in the bin and sits across from you. When you gesture slightly, he takes the cup of tea you had readied for him.
“I will remember that. Did at no point in this process occur to you that maybe the reason the window was secured is that I did not want somebody to break into my room or was the need to show the window ‘who’s boss’ simply to great?”
Dave lets out a snort and takes a sip of his tea. He immediately makes a face as if it’s the worst thing he’s ever tasted and then takes another sip.
“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?”
“Have you considered waiting at the door? Or, god forbid, call?”
“Would you have let me in?”
You look down instead of answering. You would have, probably. You can’t imagine turning Dave away, especially now. But, with how the two of you split, you can understand why he would assume otherwise and you can’t bring yourself to correct him.
It might give him hope that things are gonna be like before you left hunting behind and they can’t be.
“I presume you want me to abandon my studies and help you find Bro then?”, you ask instead.
Dave gives you a look, like he noticed your change of topic, before he answers. You’re usually better at getting away with things like this.
“Well, yeah. It sounds kinda shitty, when you say it like that. But I… he didn’t say where he was going and, if whatever he found actually got him, I might need some back up. Not that that’s likely, Bro’s made of harder stuff. He probably just forgot to check back in, you know how he is.”
You do know. And you know how Dave is, too. You can hear the over-the-top confidence in his voice that betrays his anxiety. You know that Bro would not want him to be here and here he is anyway.
“Ill come. I’ll be able to catch up on most of my classes as long as I’m back in time for my exams. And I will be back for my exams.”
You leave him no room for argument. He gives you a small smile, as if the look you’re giving him right now hasn’t made several of your professors shit their pants.
“ No shit. I wouldn’t and couldn’t stop you from being a giant fucking nerd.”
“Then let us bounce.”
Your first stop is one of Bro’s contacts, a seer. Since Bro had left no hint of his current whereabouts or the job he had taken behind, Dave had thought that this might be the way to get a lead. Now you are walking into maybe the most tacky occult shop you have ever seen.
Listen, you get committing to an aesthetic for a bit but maybe that aesthetic should include less knock-off dream catchers. Have a bit of integrity.
The seer is expecting you and you don’t know if Dave called ahead or if she’s simply good at her job. She must be, otherwise Bro wouldn’t have bothered with her. You bet he liked the dream catchers.
She gives you a blinding smile and says in a calming voice: “Hello, hello, sit.” She gestures to two seats heaped over with colorful pillows in front of the table she’s sitting behind.
“My name is Cassia and I am so overjoyed to be your spiritual guide today and this meeting is surely bound to be fortuitous.”
When Dave and you give her identical deadpan stares, she flips her long hair and the smile turns into a smirk. You are 90% sure that Cassia is not her actual name.
“My, my, you both really take after Bro, don’t you? Always right down to business.”
Dave flinches the slightest bit and you think she notices. She really is good then.
“That would be sensible. We really don’t know if this is time-sensitive or how far we might need to travel. Expedience would be appreciated.”, you start, when it doesn’t seem like Dave is gonna take the lead.
She starts rummaging around her drawers and pulls out an assortment of crystals and symbols embroidered into cloth without giving either of you much attention anymore.
Not the right move either because you can practically feel Dave starting to vibrate next to you, thanks to the silence, before it bursts out of him: “Where do you get your info from anyway? Has to have a source, doesn’t it? Do you trade something for it or is it like a present, like does Santa show up and hand you a convenient little package full of other peoples issues. ‘Merry Christmas, this dude is cheating on his wife, Uncle Jason has gotten into some drama again and this is the place where the lost family member of these to fucked off to. Please use at your discretion.’”
Dave’s eyebrows are furrowed in clear suspicion. Your family possesses remarkable eyebrow skills.
Cassia looks at him as if he’s a cat that has just thrown up on your bed while you were trying to carry it away as fast as possible.
“Some of us are just blessed with more insight than others.”, she says in a measured tone.
“And if your question is whether or not this means a hunter like you needs to kill me, might I remind you that I have worked with your guardian, who is undoubtedly a hunter through and through, for quite some time and he has not seen the need to do so?”
Dave’s look doesn’t change, but, when he doesn’t say anything else, she continues: “Shall we begin then?”
From an ornate box that has been decorated with paintings of clouds, she takes out a stack of cards and starts shuffling them.
She handles them with ease and it’s quite mesmerizing to watch, cards flying through the air while still never seeming to leave her hands, faster than you can quite follow with your eyes, even though you try.
Then, out of nowhere, her hands seem to catch on something invisible, breaking her rhythm, and a card falls from the deck and lands on the table.
You see the image of the High Priestess before everything turns black.
Or not black. It is more...nothing. And then, all at once,the nothing becomes everything and it feels like too much and you want to scream except you are also everything, so everything screams. Suddenly the everything unravels, pieces falling off like petals, and it zeros in until you’re left with a scene of a man in a motel.
You have never seen the old-fashioned furnishing before and yet it feels incredibly familiar. It takes you a moment to become you again and you recognize the man as Bro. Glasses, hat, popped collar and seemingly unharmed.
You’d nearly forgotten how long it has been since you last saw him and you get the sudden urge to get out of here, to leave and go back to your studies. At the same time you have the bone-deep realization how satisfying it would be to just snap these fucking glasses into pieces.
He’s checking in and the man behind the front desk is giving him a key. This must already have happened a while ago. You mentally jot down the name, Bonnybridge Inn. You feel something like approval at the back of your head and then this last piece of everything falls away as well.
This seems to not have been part of the plan because Cassia seems both shocked and very determined to get rid of you when you wake up. With a last look to Dave and a murmured “You should be more concerned about that than the sources of my visions.” she practically shoves both of you out of her door.
“She didn’t even tell us anything.”, Dave says confused. “What the fuck just happened?”
You think of ‘Bonnybridge Inn’. You think of the overwhelming sensation of more than you could ever handle.
You think of the presence in the back of your head and the satisfaction you felt at the image of snapping Bro’s shades in half.
“Get in the car. I’ll fill you in on the way.”, you say out loud.
Bro had left the Chevrolet Silverado with Dave before going on this hunt. It had surprised you that Bro would leave his semi-ironic pick-up truck behind but apparently this had been established as a thing whenever Dave and Bro split up to go on separate hunts since you left.
One could mistake it for sentimentality. You’re sure that Dave does.
After a quick google search you find your destination to be Chicago, at least 2 days travel from where the two of you are right now.
Dave rummages through his pile of cassette tapes and puts something on that not only have you never heard of, your barely sure its a genre and it’s definitely not old enough to have actually been released on a cassette tape.
You look at the cassette case that reads ‘Meaty Fist Glassward’ and for a moment you consider making a comment about how this band has been gaining some traction, just to see if you can piss him off, but his face is blank in a way that reminds you of nothing good.
“So you could get started with the filling in now.”, he says, voice perfectly calm.
Part of you feels protective of the vision in some way, but the bigger part wants to make him see what you have seen, so you tell him the whole thing.
“We shouldn't trust that shit! Why did you get the vision, not the actual seer?”
“Well I hardly think we have another choice and it’d be foolish not to follow this up. And maybe I’m just better than her at her job.”, you say with a tone that may be slightly too smug.
Dave shoots you a look, except you can’t see his eyes and he doesn’t turn his face from the road so it ends up more like a disapproving grimace.
“Shouldn’t you be more unhappy? You were the one that wanted a ‘normal’ life and now you’re getting weird visions from some weird all-powerful hentai tentacle-monster.”
“There were no tentacles involved.”
“And I bet you’re real sad about that.”
He’s correct of course. About how you should be a lot madder at the situation. This is something that doesn’t fit in your plan and you hate it when things don’t fit in your plan.
But something about it feels so right.