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inlocusmads · 3 months

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laplace's angel ~ trystan x nora

Four times Trystan resorts to trickery to slip out of situations and the one time he is forced against his will not to, the habit is killed and resurrected back to him, at the same time. (crimes of passion)

wc: 4.1k, teen and up for strong language mayhaps.

A/N: The title is a reference to Will Wood's song by the same name - Laplace's Angel. For @choicesjanuary2024 challenge, prompt "reflections" day 28 I think???

Yes this is an incredibly long fic. No I have no regrets.

Banner credits: Duane Keiser

It was a competition between him and Vasili. The first person to throw a die and make the number six appear twice would get exempted from going with the Queen on a sabbatical for a personal inspection, a public appearance and two articles written about her all at once.

Vasili had shrewd eyes and the dexterity of a skilled swordsman at the age of twelve. Everyone knew he was much more capable than his so-called ‘legitimate counterpart’ as the press put it. Trystan was no skilled swordsman. However, he was good at getting out of things he didn’t wish to partake in. It was an imperative bet, considering one of them would have to go anyway and be subjected to the scrutiny of a thousand eyes watching their move. Trystan didn’t want to go simply because he found his mother to be unreasonable - in letting him and his brother fight when neither of them wanted to. Vasili didn’t want to go because who would ever take care of the plants in his absence? That and he was Eveline’s son before he could be a throwaway chew toy for the Other Family, as he called it.

The two took turns - two tosses for each of them every round. The first person to throw six twice was declared the winner. The loser would have to retreat to their bedroom to pack up a suitcase for that evening.

“Your turn.”

Trystan didn’t want to use cheap tricks to get by. His brother - though maybe conditioned to him as a competitor to the throne - was still his own brother. Not by blood, maybe, but by simply wanting to eat dinner with them. Nevertheless he decided to cheat anyway. A gift, they’d said he had. One of charm, of trickery and deception. One that made him destined for great things, as the elder ministers of the court had said. If only he stopped playing games and took things more seriously. If only his mother could talk some sense into him and his father saw him as an heir and not a son he could support by watching him play football in the mud.

Nevertheless, he had to cheat. Trystan knew you could palm the die in a way it always landed on a six. He’d practised it before, when mother had taken all of his things from him and locked him in a room to think about what he’d done. He picked up a few coin tricks, but he wasn’t good at them to do magic. He asked his friend, Gustav for help and he was more than happy to teach how you could break a stick a particular way that it always lended the bigger piece. Everything from the way he threw his dice that it landed twice on the same side was rigged. He just ensured to wait a few turns until he could do it so Vasili wouldn’t believe his brother tricked him. He was smart. Vasili could sniff a trick a mile away.

“You cheated.”

“It was a completely random throw.” Trystan reasoned, fiddling with his ring.

“Well, it is not so smart of me to agree to a random game of choice.”

“I mean, we are all -- a random throw of a die to some extent. You are neither smart nor unintelligent for trusting a random game of throw. Life is too. Marching into the valley of death. Us people.”

Vasili sighed. “I do not have time for this Trystan.”

“Enjoy the nice vacation, then.”

“Shut up.”

***

“And -- it is all in the way you fold and shuffle the cards--” Trystan said, as he demonstrated a simple card trick to a table of his drunk friends. They had enough fancy cocktails sitting on an empty stomach, no food thanks to the absurd outfits they had to fit into.

It was supposed to be a year preserved into history books because the Palace had never once gone to such exorbitant efforts to pull in as many people as possible for Trystan’s eighteenth birthday. Forget birthdays and birth-months - years were historical. Stuff of the legends to be turning eighteen; to immediately start preparations for the coronation, look for suitors and ensure the season of socialising and fanfare went as far as mid-August before the cold set in. Eighteen. A chance to showcase one’s potential. If there was a perfect time for everyone in the kingdom and beyond to meet up, it was now.

A series of drunken cheers erupted as Trystan performed a nice, easy bait-and-switch trick he’d been practising for weeks. It was recommended you entertain the guests while you’re busy being a showpiece too.

Vasili was trained to talk about politics - it would be truly impressive to see a seventeen year old so well-versed in international relations. Lydea, fifteen-going-sixteen was excellent at marksmanship - probably earning the Commander's attention towards her. Twelve year olds Kasper and Emika were not just to look adorable but to represent Drakovia’s moral rules and values through some terrible singing. (They’re just kids!) Fifteen year old Astrid and an eleven year old Marguerite were instilled with the knowledge of Drakovia’s industries - mainly bread and silk. Fourteen year old Sebastyan followed his brother, Vasili everywhere he went and involved himself in games and songs - trying to make himself useful. And thirteen-year old Patryk stuck by his mother and father as they engaged in pleasantries.

“You should be doing something useful.” Sebastyan approached Trystan and his friends.

“Do you want to see a magic trick?” he asked.

“Please.” Bas scoffed. “Everyone knows you are terrible at it.”

“Try me. Think of a card.”

“Why? I cannot pick one?”

“Think of one. That is the whole point, Bas.”

“Okay, I have one.”

“If I guess your card right, you will have to do something for me.”

“What will I get if you do not get it right?”

Trystan sighed. He removed the one ring from his finger and placed it squarely on the table. “How about this?”

“Psh, that hunk of metal? No. I shall rather relish in your loss. One in fifty two. Forget the odds. You cannot trick your way out of this.”

“Promise?”

“What do you want me to do if you win?”

“I will cash in that favour later. What is your card?”

“Seven of spades?”

“All right--” Trystan spread out the deck, turning up all the cards and palming the seven of spades quickly.

“This is cheating. Where’s the trick?”

“I am looking for the card, Bas. You need to understand I may have accidentally teleported this because of my uh-- intense magical powers. Also you have mustard on your tie.”

“Where?”

Trystan slipped a card down Sebastyan’s shirt when he wasn’t looking. It was a quick manoeuvre, so seamless that to Bas, it appeared as if his brother hadn’t moved a muscle at all. It took months to practise such fluid movements, Trystan almost pursued ballet and theatre just to make a fool out of his brother. All for the bit.

“Guess you lost it, Bas.”

“I didn’t lose the card!”

“Sure you did. You with your mind powers.”

“What? You think I’d put it down my shirt? I don’t even have--” Seb adjusted his blazer, only for the card to fall right into his palm. “What-- no-- now listen-- you put it there--”

“How can I? I am right across the table.” Trystan shot him a smirk, shrugging. “I think I’ll cash in the favour now. Take my place in the interview for the Gazette’s; they’re planning on conducting this evening and make sure you talk their ears off.”

“I am not doing that.”

“You promised me, Bas. You know what happens to Drakovians who don’t keep their word? They die. Yes. I can enact the royal decree number twenty two thousand and ninety seven to execute you. I know, grim, yes. Do me this favour and I’ll show you how the trick is done.”

Unfortunately he didn’t fall for it easily.

“Fine. You can impress that special someone you keep seeing.”

“Which-- who--” Bas lost his composure, red rising to his cheeks.. “-- okay, okay-- I -- they are not-- fine, I will take the interview.”

“Thank you. By the way, I will not tell anyone about your blossoming romance with--” before Trystan could finish his sentence, Bas clapped his palm against his mouth.

“I will do it! Fine! Stop!”

***

It was an awkward dinner and an even more awkward post-dinner mandatory conversation over nighttime tea. They had retired to the living room. The Georgescus were delighted with Maksim’s extensive collection of books while Viktoria and Eveline talked to each other in hushed whispers. Trystan was left to himself, staring out of a window, wanting to rip the skin off of his body because of how atrocious this had all been. First, they took Gustav away from him. His Gustav. Second, they insisted they arranged a suitor for him. No prior consent, not even so much as a “hey there son, just FYI, Juliana’s going to be your future wife or something so just -- letting you know, cool?”. Nothing.

It wasn’t her fault. Juliana Georgescu didn’t like the arrangement either. She held her glass of cider, looking thoughtfully at a painting and walking around, unsure if she should take part in a conversation. The Georgescus were wealthy, well-connected and had roots planted in almost all of the country’s infrastructure industries. It was obvious they were looking for someone for Juliana - someone of her age, 20-something; someone who was equally well-connected and when the call came from the Palace’s Head Office, the Georgescus were elated. Looked like they didn’t tell her either.

“Who is in that painting?” Juliana finally approached him after not saying a word to him over dinner.

“Some -- person.”

“Very helpful.”

“Do you always look at paintings for a-- what you call, a source-- a source of enjoyment?”

“Is that supposed to be like, an insult?”

“A question, actually.”

“Right.” Juliana narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah, sort of. My mothers took me to the Louvre when I was four. Why? Do you work on art?”

“Something like that. It’s this really erm-- thoughtful piece I am working on. It is more of an experience, really. You’ve got to like, immerse yourself in the background before you can immerse yourself in this whole conceptual worldbuilding -- arena-- of -- thoughts--”

“Hearing a lot of words but what is it, actually?”

Trystan stuck out his palms in a pushing-motion, ensuring his back was facing the window. “Do me a favour and in count of three, push me but you’ve got to use your palms against my hands. Sort of like pressing a wall, you know?”

“Okay, and what happens?” Juliana studied the ring on his finger, as if it were some button that could be pushed for Trystan to explode or something.

“You will see,” he winked. “Push on my palms..”

Juliana pressed her palms against his, confused as to what weird party trick she was buying into and gave him a slight push. Trystan used the time to yank a smoke canister he’d stolen from the barracks in the North Wing. It fell with a sharp tang, erupting fog everywhere. It diffused quickly into the room, earning the others’ attention. Panic took a chokehold. Trystan disappeared into the mist of fog, falling backwards through the window into a rose bush and scrambled for the hills.

Personally he was against standing up people or leaving abruptly. It was quite rude and he hoped someday he’d get to tell Juliana how sorry he was for the coughs and how it made her look like she’d conjured up a trick; a wizard with fog machines for arms blasting Trystan off the window. Right now, it was a message to his parents. He couldn’t do this anymore. He never asked to be king, never desired for the position for its intellect or power or strength like his siblings yearned for. A nobody. That’s who he was. Leaving a gathering abrupt was worse. Crowning a nobody as king would send you to the ninth circle of hell, the way he saw it.

***

“They’re going to ask us if we’re pregnant.” Juliana swallowed hard, as the interviewer, Mr Konjović from the Daily News’s Nation Watch segment adjusted the teleprompter. “They’re going to ask us if -- Trystan, I need you to be prepared.”

“I am.” Trystan looked around the set, impressed by how many people they had behind the camera. You’d expect- you, the viewer, presented with two reporters talking about breakfast and the weather, in a lonely corner of the room keeping you company, but it was far from that. There were several back exits, a stream of lights for any occasion, a sound engineer’s booth on two ends, a hallway leading up to more sets- it was tremendous. Trystan felt like a newborn baby exploring the world. He was twenty one after all. Good as a toddler chewing on a stuffed animal’s arm.

“If they ask if I am pregnant, what do you say?”

“I am not.”

“No, I am not.”

“Right.”

“Trystan.”

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I hate this. I hate this so much.” Juliana straightened her blazer and smoothened her skirt. The harsh lights impaired her ability to see clearly and made her sweat, which in turn, made her anxiety hit levels incomprehensible on any scientific instrument.

“Not a fan either. In the name of questions, they will ask us intrusive things and poke us until we share something of importance.”

“So we word it in a way that it feels like something important.”

“They smell BS a mile away. We only have the pregnancy story to sell. Until Mother can come up with something.”

“We don’t have other options?”

“I can think of one.” Trystan turned to Juliana, taking her hands in hers. “You should let your hair down. You look wonderful either way, but having your bangs like so--” he reached out to smoothen the front of her hair, “-- might help with the lighting.”

“Thank you.” Juliana smiled at him, removing the rubber band that held her hair in place. Curvy strands of hair fell on her shoulders.

“I will hold onto this.” Trystan said, fiddling with the rubber band.

“What if they ask if we decided on a wedding ring?” Juliana panicked.

“We are not married yet. Is that not an answer?”

“I don’t know. I know for sure that is not the right answer.”

“Fine then.” Trystan removed his ring from his left hand - the one that he refused to remove, despite all the others receiving their good share of polish. “Wear this and tell them I gave you something of sentimental value.”

“I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“Trystan, it is your ring.”

“And I want to give it to you.”

Before Juliana could protest, Trystan slipped the hunk of metal on her finger.

“Right. We just have to sell this story.” she said, bit taken aback by the gesture. “Somehow.”

Together, they watched as the producers set up a storm of cameras; unpacking them from their boxes and protective plastic sheets. Mr Konjović finally took his seat across from the coveted royal couple, eagerly imagining the ratings pouring in from around the world. The Royal Couple Break Their Silence would be put up in bulletins everywhere. The tabloids would reference his interview for years to come. Everything - from the wedding to the scandalous details, right from their mouths at the expense of their comforts. It was everything Konjović needed.

The rubber band flicked from one end to the other. Trystan controlled it with ease, interweaving them to make shapes. He wasn’t sure if the public would approve of him making shapes out of stretching rubber bands, considering the interview was supposed to be memorable. That was what he was told to do. Sell the story that he would be a good king, a ruler, steering the ship to the twenty first century. Tell them exactly what they want to hear. If they angle at a scandalous premarital pregnancy, go with it. If they insist on some insider gossip on the affairs of the Thorne family, you must fabricate it enough to not be damaging but instead, welcoming. Get people invested - old and young- whoever watches the television.

Trystan wasn’t having any of it.

“Are we ready?” Konjović asked, as the cameras counted down and cut to the intro. Konjović prepared himself before the cameras could cut back to him again.

“I am not ready.”

“I have got this.”

“Somehow I am apprehensive.” Juliana shot him a look.

“And we are back to this exclusive interview with --” Konjović couldn’t finish his sentence. Trystan had sent the rubber band flying a short distance across the roomland square on the fire alarm. The glass broke, hitting the trigger switch in process and sending the fire alarms blaring. The fire alarms triggered the sprinklers attached to the roofs and a thunderous shower rained down upon them; water drenching the cameras. Everyone ran to take shelter, while the producers cut off the broadcast.

“That was good, was it not?” Trystan chuckled, as Juliana removed her blazer and draped it over their heads - running to the sound booths as everyone else. Everyone chatted in chorus about the crappy infrastructure and how the fire alarms had never passed the inspection test and how the stupid boss upstairs wouldn’t bother fixing it.

“What will you tell your mother back home?” she asked, worried. Hastily she removed Trystan's ring from her finger, handing it to him as if the mere weight of the accessory was enough for her to suffer from regret she couldn't tell him.

“Nothing. If you can keep a secret, I can.” he pressed a finger to his lips.

Juliana shook her head, suppressing a smile. “How did you even figure this out?”

“Luck. I knew it was going to hit the glass one way or the other.”

“If it didn’t?”

“Well, that would be a nightmare for us, right? Good thing it worked. I am terrible at coming up with baby names on the spot.”

***

Old habits die the same way. It starts as it always ends, with a pair of dice.

The table with an ongoing game of poker rice at the Clocktower Casino had a rule for its esteemed players. Blindfolds. A measure to make people forget they ever gambled and ensured they gambled some more in the process. It did make the job difficult, but Trystan had no choice but to play. No tricks, he couldn’t even read his cards. A hotel staff walked from player to player, giving them just the information they ought to know, ensuring they bet higher and higher.

Trystan was losing. He reached for the table, fiddling with the ring he had loosened off of his finger. The precious ring. The one he’d made himself. The one where he’d found scraps of metal at a young age, decided to despite, with no metalworking knowledge, glue it with precision like putting two puzzle pieces together and ever since then, it never left his hand. He tried memorising what it felt like. How it would be to lose something so valuable - all for the job.

Nora had had her arm fractured, her ribs broken, blood out of the crook of her teeth for the job. He can give up a ring.

There were times when he could trust nobody and this accessory, this piece of metal that he had constructed out of nothing when he carried so much in him at a young age - the ring that, when away from Trystan's reach, felt like as if an aching wound from a bullet that cut through his heart. The way he had bent up a long strap of copper, pricking his thumb in the process. The times he kissed it for good luck, hiding under his bed while his mother took away everything he was, leaving behind a shell of a child Drakovia would have to accept as ruler. Things didn't change. He would hold himself tight inside closets while Drakovian guards sent by family searched him in his house to deliver a personal message. Deliver in the way subpoenas are delivered. Minus the polite paperwork and adding in a lot of screaming.

The one thing Trystan would willingly bet on, because he knew he would do anything to get it back.

Now, it was hopeless.

He had a few pictures of the woman he was looking for, but his ring remained in the winning pool stash for the winner; who had won despite the blindfold. The one time he slept, he lost everything. The one time, he decided he wanted to play earnestly. Or forced to. The one time he willingly agreed to playing without any tricks up his sleeve, an escape plan in his mind and a blueprint written on a tissue. It truly hurt.

“So did we get her pictures?”

“Yep.” Trystan tossed his phone into Nora's hands.

“What's up?” she asked him, pulling him back as he attempted to cross the road.

“Lost a ring.” he chuckled. “It's funny. After today, I planned to quit it all. The silly card games -- the -- fun little tricks -- I do not wish for it to be my only defence.”

“One year on the job and you want to be on the side of Good?” Nora joked.

“It is not good or bad, you see, it is more of -- this thing where I hope. I hope the disruption causes me to escape. I hope I find a pipe to crawl out of the right tunnel and see the light. Tricks and -- swindling and cheap lying -- they all rely on a lot of hope. You would have to have a stupid amount of faith to do anything. The greatest liars are invincible. They hope so much that things go well. That they can sell this lie as much as they can. That they can pretend and pretend all their lives.”

“Jeez.”

“I am sorry, I am boring you -- I --” Trystan trailed off.

“No you are right. Thieves put so much faith in them and the universe alone, despite knowing it is going to work against them. I've seen it on the job on sparse occasions. I know the difference between a day's bread and embezzlement and how bread carries hope and company fraud squashes it for the very same people who pickpocket bread.”

“I don't think when it comes to lying--” Trystan went through his camera roll. “- there is a difference. But I don't want to hope anymore. Trickery has made me watch my own brothers die for a crown that would not have shed half as much blood as they have. Gustav, thrown out of the country because we broke the rules out of sheer hope that even if we could never see each other, we won't forget the other. Juliana who died protecting the family that would not put her first. I think I am done, Nora. Before harm comes your way as a result of my doing.”

“What if you didn't have to do it?”

“How do you mean?”

Nora reached into her pocket and fished out his ring.

“How did you --”

“Stole it from the poker table. I was watching your game. You were losing badly. Didn't look that different from an onion ring so --” Nora whistled, “-- switched it up.”

Trystan blinked, bewildered.

“Oh come on. Of course I know it isn't just a ring.” Nora rolled her eyes, yanked his left hand and slipped the ring on his finger. “There. Moral of the story being, if you can't steal, just have someone do it for you. Hope restored?”

“I -- I don't know what to say --”

“I know you are scared, because some who say they are a liar and a crook probably aren't one. Or maybe it's some deep poetic shit I don't understand. The point being, it is scary to be alone and I don't blame you for picking up some survival skills along the way. I resorted to physical violence in school. It sucked. And it is this funny thing where if you -- don't -- say, punch people, it feels like you are losing your sense of self. Losing a lot of hope.”

“It has been two months.” Trystan sighed.

“Let’s start small. You got your ring back, right?”

His gaze flicked to his hand.

“And one day you'll get your hope and faith -- and whatever else you lost, back.” Nora clapped his shoulder, a small smile on her lips. “It's a -- rocky path. But you'll get there.”

***

A/N: If you made it here, thank you so much for reading!

Tagging:

perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @stars-are-within-me @tessa-liam

crimes only: @moominofthevalley @jerzwriter @trappedinfanfiction @ao719 @cassie-thorne

@choicesficwriterscreations

#trystan x nora #crimes of passion #crimes of passion fanfics #w:inlocusmads #trystan x mc

13 notes · View notes

tomatograter · 4 years

Note

Do you have a list anywhere of your favorite hs fics?

I suppose it’s appropriate I make one now! will prolly come back to add on at some point, but as it stands

HERE’S THE FIC RECS: (it is quite long, click the readmore)

Last updated Sept 10 2021 !

Perpetuity => https://archiveofourown.org/works/12835047

Written pre-epilogues, largely about mending damaged bridges after the game. I always mention this fic as what settled me back into hs as a fandom and dirk/jake

A Palate Cleanser => https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642637

The jake eulogy we missed on candy. it’s real good. (now with a podfic version on the second chapter!!!!)

It’s only a canvas sky

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718544

Their guardians dead at the hands of the Condesce, growing up in the shadow of her slow takeover of the Skaian Federation, Dirk Strider and Jake English have spent their whole lives alone up until shortly before their twelfth birthdays.

Or: Dirk fixes a transmitter, makes a friend, builds a robot, and tries to communicate affection over distance to the barest possible minimum.

(A good mix of fluff/angst/yearning, captures early & friendship dirkjake REALLY well, a good analogue au to their canon upbringing!!)

Sburgatoria => https://archiveofourown.org/works/20726822/chapters/49242167

What if we were four lesbians stuck in an uncanny valley real housewives purgatory-esque-suburbia and we bickered then kissed 😳

Prologos

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23961157

“Sadstuck for the discerning jakeliker”

Magnesium Ion, Porphyrin Ring => https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787465/chapters/51988876

Jade + Jake exploration throughout their growing up years, the relationship they had to their guardians and to one another between split realities and time.

I Know What You Think Of Me => https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516589

You never knew you wanted vriska and jake to be friends but now…. you do! and they’re going to gut a mountain of salmon to get there. Hilariously masterful vrisrezi to boot.

What Happens In-Between =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240424/chapters/58409713

i KNOW you aren’t done with jaded fisheries observer vriska just yet and for that i’m thankful to say, we have a sequel, and dirk is in it to her great annoyance

Drive it home with one headlight => https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281412/chapters/45856705

The Hitchhikers Guide to Your Ex-Boyfriend ==>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25747519/chapters/62875855

EXTENSIVELY ILLUSTRATED!!!! Post-canon fanadventure focusing on jake, brain ghost dirk, and a very concerned third party inhabiting jake’s brain that isn’t all too happy with the current turn of dubiously canon events. Still updating, very fun and smart.

The Four Kings, the God Thief, and the Black Diamond Pirates =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886581/chapters/42220607

DIRK AND VRISKA. PIRACY. SONG. HOES (JAKE)

Sea shanties for Thots (Four kings sequel) =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22210135/chapters/53028541

jake needs to adjust to his new life and occupation overseas, ft; more songs, more piracy, and schrodinger’s hoe. Extensively jake-introspective, told through his POV.

Song of the Pyre =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875459/chapters/24161439

EPIC SCALE vrisrezi space opera ft. hardass legislacerator Terezi & outlaw Vriska being forced to work together after they sort-of-accidentally kill terezi’s shitty clown ex. Feelings are caught, trials are held, there’s a revolution coming. Delightfully written. Reads as pretty solid and complete despite the 19/21 chapters done - ACT 1 counts as a book of its own, ACT 2 is solid.

Pilot Light, Pale rapture (full series) => https://archiveofourown.org/series/1403233

“They want you on Olympus, they want you on a faraway star watching the planet turn benignly. They want the original Gods in the four corners of the earth, protectors in an invisible palace. “And the Witch sat vigil in her southern eastmost realm, looking down upon her descendants,” they’d say, “and saw that it was good.

You do not have an Olympus. You have a house that smells like burnt toast, because Davepeta did just that only an hour ago.”

Prospit kids + Really Good and Fun earth C shenanigans ensue. Incredible insightful exploration on Jade, her childhood, and mostly what happens after the curtains close and she finally has time to be awake.

After Meat, Aftermath. (full series) => https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420354

In one universe, college!au Rose lalonde takes barre classes. In another, arguably more relevant one, Rosebot peers into her life. this will lead to inevitable chaos. incredible rose + kanaya + vriska + jake + dirk focus and one of my fav AU’s.

*below are my favorite dirk-focused works:*

Detective Pony

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427119/chapters/5371283

At first I didn’t include this one, having taken for granted that everyone had read it already, but I think as of ‘21 the fandom is a bit different and not many have. Facts being: this is the definitive solo Dirk Strider story; seamless with the detective pony book dirk edits in homestuck-proper, deeply indulgent, funny, and cathartic, one might even say. Also an audiobook and a webseries, if that’s more up to your speed!

A Eulogy for Laplace’s Demon (After Meat, Aftermath spinoff) =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047735/chapters/47475769

A good jump-in point for AM,A but hugely more focused on dirk arguing with his own demons. Doesn’t pull any punches.

Dualshock Desertbloom =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18428552/chapters/43651733

Dirk wakes up in a scalding liminal space and splinters his beta self out of his body like an amoeba parting in two. It’s a Predicament. They have to learn how to cohabitate if they want to try to figure out what the fuck is going on, and Dirk can’t help but prod and poke around to learn more about his twisted-funhouse-mirror-self along the way. Really meaty character-study, some of my favorite dirkvoice (and brovoice) passages are definitely all over here.

House of Dirk => https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156126/cha pters/45530146

dirk and caliborn, in a sitcom, holding hands. nothing bad could ever possibly happen

Timaeus, Testified. => https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479223/chapters/46368625

“go crazy go stupid!!!!!!” - dirk strider, metamonster

*Fun / short / thoughtful stories:*

Two idiots at Homoville, N69, TX

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130925

Dirk freaks out and goes on r/relationships to try and figure out how to mend the semi-relationship he has with his weird roommate. (hint: his name starts with J)

Light Without Effulgence

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25986289

Rose is having a writer’s block. Jake is bored in the middle of his family’s own vacation. They sit down to mercilessly pick at each other’s brains, and the results may surprise you (not clickbait)

Interrogating the text from the wrong perspective => https://archiveofourown.org/works/615521

(Calliope and Rose have fandom wars. Its really funny)

Witching Hour => https://archiveofourown.org/works/12620732

Eschewal => https://archiveofourown.org/works/4284384

jake goes ham

Dreamscapers => https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455073/chapters/53653849

Stygian blue =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23946412/chapters/57588850

Terezi and brain ghost Vriska have a conversation. (illustrated!!!)

Bitter =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30871334

Jaw-dropping JadeRose comic oneshot; meta, jealousy, crushes, and girls being a little off.

*FANADVENTURE CORNER:*

CHOICELESS HOPE

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28100313/chapters/68850048#workskin

Your name is TEREZI PYROPE.

You have been searching the depths of the FURTHEST RING for CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND, PRETEENHOOD NEMESIS, TEEN SWEETDIAMOND, and POSSIBLE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE, VRISKA SERKET, for what may or may not have been THREE MONTHS.

Near the start of her search for Vriska, Terezi is offered a choice.

KITTYQUEST

==> https://mspfa.com/?s=32792&p=2

Centuries in the future, the daughter of jade harley and davepeta pierces together what it is like to grow up knowing your parents and much of your extended family are immortal beings. Incredible art, lots of really really fun cameos and incredible worldbuilding (Not epilogue compliant, barely credits compliant, remains one of my favorite extended pocket universes to this day.)

FAILURE TO LAUNCH

==> https://mspfa.com/?s=34750&p=1

It’s june egbert’s first night out! From the official TV programme summary; “Starring the one and only JUNE EGBERT! Who knows what shenanigans will ensue… Wild hootenannies? Late night pizza picnics? ROMANCE??? Tune in and find out on FAILURE TO LAUNCH!” this can only ever end well, right?

THERAPYSTUCK

==> https://mspfa.com/?s=36345&p=3

That’s right, buckos. The lot of you are going to therapy. Turns out after a member of the tight-knit god community (Sollux) decides to seek a little help, more shenanigans were sure to follow.

#fic rec #updated sporadically

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