Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

[klawful]

Who: klawful Karkat Vantas | givehead Dirk Strider | Open to All
What: Memory share from December's event
When: Throughout December
Where: Mostly in memory share locations

Content Warnings: Severe isolation, depression, suicidal ideation, physical/mental child/sibling abuse, emotional abuse, extreme themes of xenophobia/discrimination/hate crimes, dysphoria, graphic smashing of baby aliens, insect-like aliens, post-apocalyptic scenarios, spoilers for Homestuck??

𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝔸ℝ𝔼 𝕂𝔸ℝ𝕂𝔸𝕋 𝕍𝔸ℕ𝕋𝔸𝕊 𝔸ℕ𝔻 𝕃𝕀𝔽𝔼 𝔽𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕊𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕊.

1. Enter The Signless - (CW: Baby death/discrimination)

(You awaken in a dark place filled with cocoons. Small, colorful Alternian troll wigglers have begun to crawl out, plopping down onto the ground. The cavern around you is massive and glittering. There is tension crackling through the air, and the more your eyes adjust to the dark, the more you realize the ground is smeared with colors that match some of the wigglers. A nearby lime-colored wigglers falls out of its cocoon with half of its legs missing. An older troll moving by stops to smash the wiggler with one fell swoop of a club. What's left of the wiggler is scraped into a bucket and the troll moves onward, navigating the complex tunnels. You were not seen.

You should probably get out of this freaky place. But there's something wiggling against your foot. Look down, and you will see something even you know is out of place. A vivid, bright red wiggler, smaller than the others. There were rust-colored wigglers moving about, but this one was candy red with small, stunted horns. Its eyes weren't even open yet. It couldn't quite get onto its legs, stuck on its back.

Maybe you're about to help the lil guy out. Or maybe you're about to ditch ship. Either way, a tall, elegant troll steps out from behind nearby rocks and instantly freezes the moment she sees you. She speaks in a smooth voice, in a deep, clicking language that begins to readjust into comprehensible words through the power of the memory-)

Who are you? (She demands, her voice spiked with hostility.) Step away from that wiggler. Now.

2. Enter the Shameful Blood (CW: Death of children, themes of bullying/harassment, discrimination, violence)

(You are at the edge of a forest with gnarled, turquoise trees. Tall purple grass brushes against your legs and in the sky above, there is a pink moon. It would almost be beautiful if it weren't for the sound of screaming and snarling heading towards you. There is a gang of young trolls, which, to the human eye, might look like a bunch of eight-year-old kids, but you know, with grey skin and a variety of horns. Most of them were wearing shirts with blue-colored symbols on them, and sprinting ahead of them was a boy with two oversized horns jutting out of the side of his head and a brown Taurus symbol on the front of his shirt.

One of the trolls leading the chase was covered in brown blood and was howling. They got to the kid, grabbing a hold of one of his horns and yank him backward, pulling him to the ground. The group descends, savagely attacking the young troll and it's clear that this isn't just bullying. They were fully intending to kill him, screeching in their distant language.

They would have likely succeeded if a sickle didn't come sailing out of the air and slice one of the heads off of one of the taller bluebloods. It falls to the ground with a thump and the others immediately stop. Crouching in the grass was a very young Karkat, wearing a heavy hoodie and baggy pants. The brown blooded troll sees his means of escape and takes it, already crying, and sails past Karkat without a word.)

I'm gonna execute every last one of you fuckers. (Karkat announces this loudly, his young voice scratchy and squeaky. He holds up his other sickle.)

You will pay for your crimes! (The bluebloods don't look impressed. The leader of the pack crosses her arms over her chest and snorts: "Wow, it's the closet case. We're so scared, Karkat.")

You should be, bitch! I just literally killed one of you!

(The girl sends an indifferent glance to her fallen companion before she rolls her eyes. That was Jaycee. She was a complete idiot. A wiggler could have killed her!)

Then why was she on her team? I thought you only wanted strong trolls on your team. (Karkat was rearing up to fight, stomping towards the trolls. The girl troll started to roll her sleeves up. "Dipshit. Everyone knows a team should be dispensable. You gotta have the lower ranks to weed out the morons like you."

One of the other companions got bored of the talking and whipped Karkat's sickle right back at him. It caught him on the shoulder, which instantly made him gasp and flinch back. Not out of pain though. Something raw and fearful entered his eyes and he dropped his other sickle to snap his hand over the injury. Suddenly, he didn't seem so eager to fight. The leader of the pack smirked wickedly.

"I think it's time we see what color you really bleed. Get him." With a snap of her fingers, her pack descended. Karkat fled into the woods. Do you help the poor kid out?)

𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝔸ℝ𝔼 ℕ𝕆𝕎 𝔻𝕀ℝ𝕂 𝕊𝕋ℝ𝕀𝔻𝔼ℝ 𝔸ℕ𝔻 𝕃𝕀𝔽𝔼 𝕊𝕋𝕀𝕃𝕃 𝔽𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕊𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕊.

1. Last Man Standing (CW: Isolation, depression, neglect of a child, apocalypse/alien invasion)

(This memory presents itself strangely. You are in the middle of an ocean on the roof of a beautiful highrise apartment. Seagulls coast along the waves. It is peaceful. A small blonde boy sits on the edge of the roof. The memory flickers, the passing of time rapidly sped up, the sun rising and setting again and again. You begin to see the boy's life unfold, following him inside his apartment.

He can't be any older than eight. There are no adults. Just a tall robot and an intimidating-looking puppet that he occasionally speaks to. Most of the time, he is silent. He wakes up. He eats processed food from cans or things he has gardened on his little roof or fish he has gotten from the ocean. He showers for a long time. Sometimes, he does nothing all day, just staying in bed, staring out his window. Some days, he sits on the roof and stares out at the ocean, silent. Alone. Other days, he trains. He fights with a katana and it's evident that he is no ordinary boy. He moves too fast to see, clanging metal off of practice robots. He works out. He dives into the ocean to salvage metal from the fallen city of Houston.

Sometimes he hides when alien ships glide over his home. Sometimes he spends hours at a record table, making shitty mixes and listening to music. Other times he watches movies and tries to replicate human speech in stilted, awkward sentences, somehow still managing to speak with a Texan accent.

Other days he just sits and stares at his hands, doesn't eat, doesn't do anything. Some days, the robot cannot engage with him at all, and they both stare, they both stay still. The robot does not understand the emotional needs of human children. Time passes. The boy is alone. He remains alone.

Time finally slows down when he is about ten and you can finally engage with him. The world feels real around you. He is sitting on the roof, his glasses off and in his hand. He's tinkering with them, frowning hard. His blonde hair is windswept and chaotic, nothing like the perfect spiked mass he would later come to be known for. His katana is on the ground nearby, and a few seagulls are chilling around him. Do you approach this child and potentially be the first real contact he has ever had with another sentient being?

At least it's just a memory. Takes some of the pressure off, huh.)

2. Beat the Apocalypse to the Punch (CW: Graphic abuse of child/sibling, apocalypse scenario)

(This Dirk is from a different time, a different variation of earth. He's a grown man, thirty, and has managed to grow a little bigger than the Dirk from Trench. He got to about 6'3 and his body was stacked with muscle. You see a similar time-lapse, of him finding a blonde baby in the heart of a crater and deciding to adopt the baby through the bizarre circumstances. You see his egotism in believing that he found a special baby, a baby only he could raise. There are good memories. Memories of Dirk teaching the baby how to rap, making the baby mini sunglasses to match his own.

But there are bad memories. Memories of him testing the kid's reflexes and progressively subjecting him to more and more psychological and physical torment all in the name of "training." He fights with his brother constantly, pushing him into a "strong kid." He rails on him with a sword and there are several times where Dave winds up cut and bleeding, bruised and busted, trying hard to choke down tears. Dirk is impassive. He is indifferent. He just sees this as a time to grow. Tells Dave to buckle up and get better.

"You will die without me." He reminds Dave of this regularly, "This world will kill you. You have no idea what's out there."

The thing is, Dirk was kind of right. Dave jumpstarts the literal apocalypse one day when he decides to pop in the beta of a stupid game called Sburb that he and his friends decided to play. The entire world is on fire, literally, and Dirk knows he has to deal with this shit. He deals with it.

The city of Houston, Texas is burning. Literally burning, comets on fire shooting down and exploding all around them, but the biggest meteor is taking its time so Dirk takes his. Dave's screaming about needing to do something, but Dirk ignores him. He fights him, whoops his ass into the ground because he fucked up and wasn't ready for this. Dave's battered body left behind says as much, but Dirk loves his brother. He loves his brother so fucking much that he launches off their highrise and through the air. This is not a normal person.

Dirk is not a normal person.

He never was a normal person.

He cracks the meteor in half with his sword. Dave might not understand, but Dirk is trying to save his life, the life of his friends. He knows this is just the beginning, but he hopes it buys his brother some time.

After that, he splits through space and reality. Everything distorts, but Dirk doesn't waiver, and you have no choice but to follow the memory through. You both wind up on a giant spinning record. Dirk's taking the only breather he knows he's going to get. He's sweating, but unphased, polishing his sword with a piece of felt he had tugged out from his pocket.

He doesn't even glance at you, but he speaks up:)

This is about to get real ugly. (Do you ask about his brother? Prepare for a real shitty fight? Just watch him die? Let's see!)

OOC/WILDCARD:
If you want me to write up any specific memories from Homestuck, let me know! I can be reached through a PM on one of my accounts or @ clussy on Plurk. Thanks! These memories are intended to be directly interacted with. The first memory for Karkat is technically of his ancestor that eventually influences Karkat's existence, the Signless, but is intended to be a lore-centric prompt.

My bois will arrive eventually in the prompts after your character has seen these things unfold. I wanted characters to have a raw exposure to the memories first before Dirk / Karkat could interject or distract from the core memory.

Comments

[givehead]

Thankfully for both of them, Dirk's not moving into a more aggressive stance.

He takes in the boy's adjusted pose. He must know how to fight too. Dirk naturally shifts into a similar pose, something better suited to speed than strength. But as the boy talks, Dirk relaxes. He knows all about arriving in a place you never meant to. Dirk lowers his sword entirely and stands normally once again.

"Bothering would imply you are troubling me or disturbing me. I don't feel either of those things," he states, "I wasn't expecting company. That's all."

Because... Well. Company wasn't something he ever got.

"I don't know how you can leave either. But I'm sure I can figure it out if you give me some time."

[wannasmash]

Like him, Midoriya has adapted a speed style. In his case, he needed to compensate for his current lack of mastery over One For All's strength. Though he is still very strong, able to bust through walls, that alone isn't enough to compete in the same ring as a Pro Hero.

It isn't normal to draw a sword on unexpected company, but Midoriya was painfully aware he entered someone's property without permission. Unless his eyes deceived him, he's the first person this kid has spoken to in way too long. Midoriya straightens a little, though he still keeps his knees relaxed. Dirk is speaking English, but Midoriya isn't good enough at it to trust himself in a conversation with someone holding a katana. He keeps to his own Japanese and trusts the magic of Deer Country to get his meaning across.

"That's very helpful, thank you. I'm sorry I dropped in like this. I was meaning to go somewhere else. I'm Deku."

He's in his hero costume, so he gives his hero name. Half his acquaintances in Trench only know him either by one name or another, but that's a part of his future career he'd have to accept. He only made one deerNet account too, originally for hero business, and that's the name on it.

[givehead]

The magic of Deer Country did work effectively, but Dirk had also been teaching himself Japanese since he was a kid purely because he was one of those weebs. He had been working on being able to watch his favorite anime without subtitles. So, he winds up hearing the Japanese, recognizing it, and understanding it, and realizes he should maybe switch to it.

There's a somewhat rough Southern-American accent to it that Dirk can't quite help. Thankfully, that magic works out the kinks in any possible translation issues.

"It's okay," Dirk says and slips his sword into the sheath at his hip. He doesn't quite smile at Deku, but there's something fleeting and shy about the look he gives him that's far warmer than expressions the older Dirk ever made anymore.

"Hi. I'm Dirk." He does notice Deku's outfit and it's just odd enough to garner some interest. "Where were you trying to go exactly? Is that a space suit?"

[wannasmash]

Midoriya is aware he's gone still, except for the wind tossing his green curls around. He remembers someone introducing themselves to Kyle with that name. That person typed in English too. It fits. This could be the same person. But here, he's not a 21-year-old asking about monster fucking or nettling others on the internet. He wouldn't have those memories. He's a young kid who, also matching what timaeusTestified told him, grew up alone with only robots.

...A young kid who knows how to use a katana, but advanced child prodigies exist in Midoriya's own world too.

There's only one way to address him, really--like any other young boy. He grins--full, unabashed, bright. He's not outgoing, but he has a soft spot for kids. He's elated that he knows Japanese and was kind enough to use it. He's pretty good at it too. The accent is kind of cute. He bats his own chest with a gloved hand, indicating the sports material of his jumpsuit.

"No, it would hardly protect me in space. It's my hero costume."

Hero costume is in English. Dirk might have picked up that the average modern Japanese person uses some English loanwords. Hero Course students and Pro Heroes use several more.

"I was--" intending to delve into some hard, violent memories... He can't just say that. "I thought I might be going to work. But--tell me about your sword! It's so cool..."

His voice rises on "cool." Dirk might be a weeb, but Midoriya is a bona fide otaku. He wanted to give Dirk a heartfelt compliment to brush away any lingering apprehension about a stranger on his roof and the awkwardness that might have caused. Swords are unequivocally cool. Everybody loves a sword.

[givehead]

It is the first time in Dirk's memory that a boy has ever smiled at him in person. He's too young to have fully perfected the Cool, Detached persona that would come to define him. There's a sizzling heat making its way across his cheeks and it isn't sunburn. Midoriya has a kind smile. Dirk didn't even realize that people could have kind smiles. He always figured it was just barring your teeth like an animal giving a warning.

He has no clue what to do. Some part of him is starting to panic a little, but another part of him is desperate for this - whatever this is. Even if it was a hallucination, it was an effective one.

"Oh...Like, Superman kind of hero?" It wasn't as flashy as the guy's suit, but he knew enough about old pop culture to figure that's the hero this kid is talking about. "Does that mean you have superpowers?"

Maybe a bit too personal, but Dirk doesn't think about it. He's too young to curb his enthusiasm.

His panic fades when Midoriya compliments the sword. Dirk smiles genuinely, something lighting up inside of him. "I made it myself."

He's very proud of this fact and even holds the sword out for Midoriya to take and examine it himself. Yeah, he's no longer worried about this being some violent confrontation. Maybe it was stupid of him, but the kid's lonely. Everyone does love a good sword.

"I haven't decided on a name yet," Dirk says, talking more swiftly, excitedly, and confidently than he had just moments ago. "You know how in stuff like Lord of the Rings or whatever they always name their swords? I want that, but I can't figure out a good one."

[wannasmash]

"Uh, 'super', yes, that's right." Super. English again. He catches it off Superman's name, whoever that is. Sounds old-school. "They were called meta abilities when they first appeared. Mine's super strength."

He's relieved when Dirk smiles. Dirk is smart; he speaks at least two languages, handles a sword, and uses words usually only found in writing or in more formal speech. Sometimes talking to smart kids is hit or miss. Little Kouta had punched him in the balls when they first met, for no other reason than that he disliked students in the Hero Course, and Midoriya was unfortunate enough to introduce himself first. But the bashfulness, that was very like Kouta the second time they spoke in person. He's a prickly kid only just learning to express his gratitude for Midoriya having saved him.

He's surprised when Dirk offers his sword for examination. Midoriya holds out both his gloved hands, shaking with excitement, to reverently hold it horizontal. He feels like a samurai in a period movie they sometimes showed on TV. It has the genuine weight of the real thing. So cool!

"You made--? Oh, you've got to name it, that's just extra cool, especially if you made it! That's hard, though. Like choosing a hero name."

[givehead]

"Meta...Oh, man. That makes so much sense." Super strength? That was a pretty cool ability. Dirk wondered what kind of abilities he would have if he was thrown into that kind of world.

"You don't look super strong," he says without really meaning to sound rude about it. Instead, he merely sounds factual. He really was lacking in socialization. Definitely book smart, but emotionally intelligent? Maybe not so much. At least not yet. It was better than punching Midoriya in the balls though. Probably.

Oh yeah, this kid totally deserves to hold his sword. Dirk is grinning now, an expression he isn't used to making at all.

"Right?!" He doesn't mean to shout, and once he realizes he's startled a few gulls nearby, he has the decency to look embarrassed. "I was thinking maybe like Banshee like the Unicorn Gundam 02 Banshee model." Would he know? Surely this kid had to know all about Gundams. They were the fucking coolest and if this guy was as nerdy as Dirk...

"I want to see if I can make the blade black with gold edges. I know that's impractical and the paint would chip away but...It would look so cool."

[wannasmash]

He winces slightly, but he takes it in stride, as he usually does.

"...Mine doesn't come from physical attributes like muscles. It releases power. So, I can lift more when activating my Quirk than I can without."

Midoriya is, of course, a nerd who also gets too excited sometimes and mishandles his volume. It's painfully familiar seeing it in someone else, but not so painful he can't nerd out too.

"Oh! Sounds like an anime from my w--from home, but it's got a different name..."

He briefly holds the sword in one hand and mimes pointing a large rifle with his empty one. He resists the urge to make sound effects. He knows, if not the exact series, something very like it. Superheroes always were his main fix, but of course he consumed anime and video games too. His eyes return to the sword.

"That's true... I looked up materials when I was doing research for my hero costume. There's a lot of industrial-grade ways to coat metal, anodization and whatever... not sure if it'll stand up to what a katana can do though."

He's a nerd, but some things are just outside his expertise.

[givehead]

Dirk tilts his head and looks critically at Miodriya before he nods, understanding.

"Cool. Reminds me of this uranium heart I'm working. Really small but super dangerous." At least children could pick up on how something functioned relatively well without much debate.

Dirk watches Miodriya handle his sword with gripped attention. He was experiencing that moment every kid had where he suddenly wanted to show this guy literally everything he owned. He had never had anyone to show stuff off to before.

"Do you want to see the robots that I made too? I have so much cool shit around here." He's bragging, but he's also just opening up, humming with energy. "I have music stuff too. And a work station and everything. You know about anodization?" Dirk, choose a subject.

Plus he didn't know how long this guy would even be around. He had to take advantage.

[wannasmash]

He smiles. He doesn't say that his Quirk has been the most dangerous to himself. (Not going to ask if the heart is truly uranium and if they should be escaping far, far away from here.)

"Ah--uh--One thing at a time!" he laughs. He offers him back the sword. "I don't know too much about ways to treat metal, but I might know a few people who do." He wants to be helpful. The words are out of his mouth before he can think of the logistics of them.

He can't give this kid any contact details. He will never see this kid again. His smile falters.

"Listen, I really don't think I'm supposed to be here. I'm going to get in trouble." With present-day Dirk. But because Midoriya can't bring himself to refuse that unabashed excitement, he adds, "You can show me one thing. The robots. But then I have to go."

Music can get personal. He figures robots would be the least privacy-invading thing. Present-day Dirk had mentioned them too.

[givehead]

Dirk looks only partially chastized. He takes his sword back from Midoriya.

"Sorry," he says, making a few mental notes. Too much at one time. Dirk sees the smile falter, and he can feel the departure before Midoriya even says it. He's never been left by someone before, not like this, but he knows what's going to happen.

He was going to be alone again. He closes his hands tightly around the handle of his sword and tries to ignore the swelling pinch in his chest. It made sense that Midoriya would have to go soon.

"Okay," he mumbles. Part of him wants to dart away instead of showing Midoriya his robots, but he was more lonely than he was upset, so he buries that instinct.

"I can show you the one I'm working on right now?"

[wannasmash]

Midoriya takes a small breath. He knew he made the right call by not completely refusing to hang out. This is more than just humoring an excited kid. He's holding a rapidly beating heart that could shatter if he's not careful. His own aches dully, thinking of lonely kids he's met before, but he doesn't want Dirk to catch more of that off him. He masks it with an amiable, if subdued, smile.

"Yeah. I'd love to see it."