is not actually a Lotus Exige (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
veira) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
marigoldflame2011-12-21 12:40 am
veira) wrote in marigoldflame2011-12-21 12:40 am
Entry tags:
diablo
World: MSPA; Homestuck
Characters: Jake
Wordcount: 1303
Summary: His dreamself is dead now. He could never have predicted how bad the nightmares would be.
Psychopomp
This dream isn't right. It's not, and he knows it the instant he falls into it, reality bubbling away like sinking into the deep cold of a pond. The air around him twists, warps. Looking at it too close makes his head hurt, pounding behind his eyes and in his brain and curling up into his stomach until he just knows he's going to hurl. Jake groans, eyes squeezed shut and his arms wrapped around himself. What is this? This isn't right. And it's then that she speaks for the first time.
It's like a knife in his ear, acid dripping down the frozen metal into his brain. Seven different wavelengths, different universes, different places all speaking at once, her voice woven from the broken strands, disjointed and awful. His stomach turns over. He flinches away, a hand clapped over his mouth to hold the sickness down. His eyes are open, looking everywhere at once. What was that? What demon was that? And when he sees it, when his mind finally comprehends—
She is the space. The space that warps and curls, air boiling with cold dead energies, power trapped in distant pockets of the universe. All around him it's purple and black and dangerous. Tentacles coil in the darkness, slick and dripping terrible terrible slime. The chill that goes down his spine is pure cold horror, deep and instinctual because Jake know in his soul that he is witnessing something human minds were never meant to survive.
(He's not sure if his eyes bleed. His stomach curls and knots with sickness but he can't succumb to it—can't—something physical and awful stopping him like a possession.) It's too late. It's too too late, because when he tries to turn, tries to run flee get out the ground is gone, the air is gone, everything in the entire world is gone except for him and this monster that's wrapped around him in the empty empty darkness. Tentacles twine and wriggle, shining in some eerie light. The dread and panic swells in Jake's mind. He's prey, and this is the most terrifying predator he's ever seen.
She speaks again, hard radio reverb on seven different channels, pitched in a thousand different ways. He moans, hands pressed to his ears to try to hold the sound out that it claws through anyway. There's something psychic in the horrible words he can't understand, something that crawls inside his skull and bites into the folds of his brain, licking with toxic venom. He needs to throw up. He needs to. And his vision blurs as his eyes fill with tears from the pain, red and awful in his mind.
"Dear," she says fondly, her voice different and comprehensible and somewhere behind him. He tries to jerk around and face her, panic fluttering in his chest. His body doesn't respond. For a terrifying moment he is frozen in time, able to breathe and move his eyes, but nothing else—and slowly, cold and slick like dead fish and horrors, tentacles untangle from the mass around him and reach up to coil around his ankles.
No no nonono! They bind around his calves and his knees, others snaking over his wrists up to his elbows. The cold is like ice, slime dripping in long strings and the deep stink of salt and ocean rot everywhere. His stomach flips and flops but she will not let his body react. He's stiff as a board, every muscle tensed by psychic energy. Sticky suckers twitch against his bare skin and Jake sobs in the back of his throat, eyes wide with terror. The chill bites painfully as the tentacles curl up his knees, his shoulders, icy slime soaking his shirt and his socks.
She's still all around him, tentacles wriggling and huge as trees twined in a ball around him. Eyes peek out of the mass everywhere, black things with no iris, no humanity or pity or fear. He's nothing in her grasp. She's going to destroy him, and somehow, through the awful pounding headache burning up his brain, Jake knows she's smiling.
Her avatar comes around from in back of him; a ragdoll held up with a psychic string thrust through its heart. Its skin is pale and clammy, dead like rotting fish and ready to burst. The angle of its neck is wrong, limbs hanging like butchered meat and quivering spookily. A corpse dreamt up to speak for her.
And the worst thing is that it wears Jane's face.
Her eyes are black as beetles, without pupils and terrible. Slime drips from her eyes like tears, her mouth contorted into a jaw-cracking smile, full of jagged teeth like broken glass.
"Hello, Jake," she says through that grin. She sounds nothing like Jane. The words vibrate, hollow and on two different frequencies twined together. His brain aches at the sound and he recoils, heart pounding in horror. Jane is his friend; he trusts her to his core. This nightmare vision has twisted her all wrong, a broken cadaver with a demon pulling tendons and ligaments to make her dance like a puppet. He feels sick inside. His throat swells up with the tears in his eyes.
"Stopstopstopstop." His motor control floods back all at once, the word pouring out of him. He wants anything but this, anything in the entire world. He'd cut his own arm off not to see Jane's face on this monster, not to see those tentacles curling doom, churning up the rotting slime as the eyes watch him all around, watching him like an insect with its wings pulled off. His feet and hands are freezing. It feels as if they've gone solid, black with frostbite and gangrene. Shivers wrack through his body as Jake squeezes his eyes shut, still repeating stop like a mantra, anything to maybe maybe get him out of this. The only thing warm in the world are the tears tracing down his face. "Stopstopstop."
She laughs, an awful cruel gleeful sound. She drifts forward on the psychic hook through her chest, close enough so he can smell the rot and the sick ocean on her. Her hand is clammy as dead fish as she cups his cheek, Jake sobbing and leaning back as far as the tentacles will let him. "I've been waiting so long to meet you."
"Please," he begs, the icy tentacles creeping up over his knees and licking at the flesh of his thighs. "Please."
The grin stretches the rotten skin of Jane's face, her broken shark smile wider than her skull should allow. He sees the demon in her eyes. She laughs again, tentacles twining in her mouth where a tongue should be. "You're mine, child," she whispers, lips brushing cold at his temple. He feels the dread in his very bones.
And—
He's screaming when he wakes up, blankets damp and hot with panic and sweat. The darkness is as deep as the dream when he crashes back into his headboard, all of him trembling. That vision of Jane is seared into Jake's brain, his stomach burning and sour and his hands wooden with remembered cold. The robot's visor glows, its hands on his shoulders as it crouches over him, still shaking him out of the nightmare. Jake leans over the side of his bed and throws up on the floor for long minutes until all he can manage are dry heaves. Finally finished, quaking and crying, he leans his forehead against the robot's shoulder and tries to make himself breathe.
It feels like his soul's been hollowed out. Energy, emotions and fear, funneled right out of him into that demon's mouth.
Never again. He'll learn how to go without sleep. Never never never never.
The robot pats his back and Jake can't help but sob.
Characters: Jake
Wordcount: 1303
Summary: His dreamself is dead now. He could never have predicted how bad the nightmares would be.
This dream isn't right. It's not, and he knows it the instant he falls into it, reality bubbling away like sinking into the deep cold of a pond. The air around him twists, warps. Looking at it too close makes his head hurt, pounding behind his eyes and in his brain and curling up into his stomach until he just knows he's going to hurl. Jake groans, eyes squeezed shut and his arms wrapped around himself. What is this? This isn't right. And it's then that she speaks for the first time.
It's like a knife in his ear, acid dripping down the frozen metal into his brain. Seven different wavelengths, different universes, different places all speaking at once, her voice woven from the broken strands, disjointed and awful. His stomach turns over. He flinches away, a hand clapped over his mouth to hold the sickness down. His eyes are open, looking everywhere at once. What was that? What demon was that? And when he sees it, when his mind finally comprehends—
She is the space. The space that warps and curls, air boiling with cold dead energies, power trapped in distant pockets of the universe. All around him it's purple and black and dangerous. Tentacles coil in the darkness, slick and dripping terrible terrible slime. The chill that goes down his spine is pure cold horror, deep and instinctual because Jake know in his soul that he is witnessing something human minds were never meant to survive.
(He's not sure if his eyes bleed. His stomach curls and knots with sickness but he can't succumb to it—can't—something physical and awful stopping him like a possession.) It's too late. It's too too late, because when he tries to turn, tries to run flee get out the ground is gone, the air is gone, everything in the entire world is gone except for him and this monster that's wrapped around him in the empty empty darkness. Tentacles twine and wriggle, shining in some eerie light. The dread and panic swells in Jake's mind. He's prey, and this is the most terrifying predator he's ever seen.
She speaks again, hard radio reverb on seven different channels, pitched in a thousand different ways. He moans, hands pressed to his ears to try to hold the sound out that it claws through anyway. There's something psychic in the horrible words he can't understand, something that crawls inside his skull and bites into the folds of his brain, licking with toxic venom. He needs to throw up. He needs to. And his vision blurs as his eyes fill with tears from the pain, red and awful in his mind.
"Dear," she says fondly, her voice different and comprehensible and somewhere behind him. He tries to jerk around and face her, panic fluttering in his chest. His body doesn't respond. For a terrifying moment he is frozen in time, able to breathe and move his eyes, but nothing else—and slowly, cold and slick like dead fish and horrors, tentacles untangle from the mass around him and reach up to coil around his ankles.
No no nonono! They bind around his calves and his knees, others snaking over his wrists up to his elbows. The cold is like ice, slime dripping in long strings and the deep stink of salt and ocean rot everywhere. His stomach flips and flops but she will not let his body react. He's stiff as a board, every muscle tensed by psychic energy. Sticky suckers twitch against his bare skin and Jake sobs in the back of his throat, eyes wide with terror. The chill bites painfully as the tentacles curl up his knees, his shoulders, icy slime soaking his shirt and his socks.
She's still all around him, tentacles wriggling and huge as trees twined in a ball around him. Eyes peek out of the mass everywhere, black things with no iris, no humanity or pity or fear. He's nothing in her grasp. She's going to destroy him, and somehow, through the awful pounding headache burning up his brain, Jake knows she's smiling.
Her avatar comes around from in back of him; a ragdoll held up with a psychic string thrust through its heart. Its skin is pale and clammy, dead like rotting fish and ready to burst. The angle of its neck is wrong, limbs hanging like butchered meat and quivering spookily. A corpse dreamt up to speak for her.
And the worst thing is that it wears Jane's face.
Her eyes are black as beetles, without pupils and terrible. Slime drips from her eyes like tears, her mouth contorted into a jaw-cracking smile, full of jagged teeth like broken glass.
"Hello, Jake," she says through that grin. She sounds nothing like Jane. The words vibrate, hollow and on two different frequencies twined together. His brain aches at the sound and he recoils, heart pounding in horror. Jane is his friend; he trusts her to his core. This nightmare vision has twisted her all wrong, a broken cadaver with a demon pulling tendons and ligaments to make her dance like a puppet. He feels sick inside. His throat swells up with the tears in his eyes.
"Stopstopstopstop." His motor control floods back all at once, the word pouring out of him. He wants anything but this, anything in the entire world. He'd cut his own arm off not to see Jane's face on this monster, not to see those tentacles curling doom, churning up the rotting slime as the eyes watch him all around, watching him like an insect with its wings pulled off. His feet and hands are freezing. It feels as if they've gone solid, black with frostbite and gangrene. Shivers wrack through his body as Jake squeezes his eyes shut, still repeating stop like a mantra, anything to maybe maybe get him out of this. The only thing warm in the world are the tears tracing down his face. "Stopstopstop."
She laughs, an awful cruel gleeful sound. She drifts forward on the psychic hook through her chest, close enough so he can smell the rot and the sick ocean on her. Her hand is clammy as dead fish as she cups his cheek, Jake sobbing and leaning back as far as the tentacles will let him. "I've been waiting so long to meet you."
"Please," he begs, the icy tentacles creeping up over his knees and licking at the flesh of his thighs. "Please."
The grin stretches the rotten skin of Jane's face, her broken shark smile wider than her skull should allow. He sees the demon in her eyes. She laughs again, tentacles twining in her mouth where a tongue should be. "You're mine, child," she whispers, lips brushing cold at his temple. He feels the dread in his very bones.
And—
He's screaming when he wakes up, blankets damp and hot with panic and sweat. The darkness is as deep as the dream when he crashes back into his headboard, all of him trembling. That vision of Jane is seared into Jake's brain, his stomach burning and sour and his hands wooden with remembered cold. The robot's visor glows, its hands on his shoulders as it crouches over him, still shaking him out of the nightmare. Jake leans over the side of his bed and throws up on the floor for long minutes until all he can manage are dry heaves. Finally finished, quaking and crying, he leans his forehead against the robot's shoulder and tries to make himself breathe.
It feels like his soul's been hollowed out. Energy, emotions and fear, funneled right out of him into that demon's mouth.
Never again. He'll learn how to go without sleep. Never never never never.
The robot pats his back and Jake can't help but sob.