A lush hour-long housey, swingy, electroswingy, boompty kinda musical treat!
I FREAKING LOVE THIS
Look at the Alpaca with the Hat
what is this called??? AMAZING!!
REBLOG FOR LATER
Your name is Dirk Strider, you are sixteen years old, and you’re already stifling a decent amount of laughter.
When the brochure for “Camp of Heroes” cam into your mail, you nearly tossed it out as you tossed away near all the stupid junk mail advertisements that seemed to pointlessly sneak their way snug little mailbox. You paused for a moment out of confusion as to why it was there – your brother not being the type to really sign up to the sorts of things that sent these out, but you thought that maybe it was some joke or some backhanded attempt at communication with you that he wasn’t entirely sure you’d get or not, but tried anyway. That sounded kind of like him you guessed. Yet this lapse in throwaway time gave your eyes enough time to catch on the horribly filtered photo placed on the front, a stereotypical arched wooden sign framing the view of a picturesque lake as well as some quaint little cabins. Flipping through the trifold, it seemed the camp surprising catered to teens up until 18, instead of the many 8-year-old oriented forms that your classmates always vehemently insisted you had missed out on. Within a week you’d mailed in a sign-up form – it had just been too overtly horrible to pass up (though in the back of your head you admit that getting out of your lonely apartment probably something to do with your decision-making).
And honestly, it’s exactly what you expecting. You’re hoisting you bag of necessities over your shoulder as you walk along the aimlessly winding dirt path to find your cabin, many excited and irritated adolescents bustling about the region. The excited ones seem sort of like they’ve been here in summers past and are reuniting with old friends, though with the pathetically rundown nature of the area, you figure they’re here because of parents and friends rather than the true quality of the camp.
Approaching the boys’ side of the camp, you enter your assigned cabin and eye the blank area within before unloading your items to take your place on the bottom bunk, figuring whatever sucker you end up rooming with will just be dying for the top bunk.
And he certainly is.
You’re halfway through unpacking the scarce personal belongings you’ve decided to tote along (a few fats, merchandise from your Bro’s masterpieces, and your best friend Cal) when he walks in, a wild grin and an energy to his person that almost sort of startles you.
“Hey there, mate!” he pipes up immediately, scurrying in and offering his hand to you. You take it coolly and firmly after setting your puppet companion down, only for him to squeeze yours even more firmly still in return. “Name’s Jake English, good to meet ya! You must be my bunkmate here, eh?” You find yourself trying to place exactly what accent it is he’s speaking it, because it’s certainly not Australian or British, or really anything else you quite recognize, but you decide to just brush it off.
“Dirk Strider, it’s a pleasure.”
“Why, did you say Strider?” he lets go of your hand, readjusting his backpack that shrugged over his shoulders. “Jolly good name there! Reminds me of that big movie star with the stair flicks and whatnot. Dave Strider, right?”
You snort in passive amusement, returning to unloading your things sufficiently. “Yeah, he’s my older brother,” is all you say. You certainly don’t expect him to believe you, no one ever does, and what with your little plushes of the characters, you likely seem some sketchy fanatic. Still, you aren’t going to really lie about it, even by omission. You find that pointless and pretty damn stupid.
“He… what? No what! That’s amazing!” he gawks, before interjecting seemingly out of nowhere while he peruses the small space, “Oh, did you save the top bunk for me? Real gentleman you are!” You can’t tell just yet whether he’s just talkative or merely having initial excitement, but he hasn’t annoyed you just yet, so you’d guess that’s a good sign. “But anyway, that’s simply brilliant! I’m a big fan of your brother’s work then, as a matter of fact. But really I just sort of like all films!”
You’re not going to deny that you’re pretty shocked that he believes you about your brother, but you’re certainly not complaining as he keeps chattering away and lumbering up onto that top bunk he seems so excited about.
It continues on this way until you’re called for orientation as well as dinner and so on, and you think that, as hilarious as you thought all facets of this would be, you might actually genuinely get along with this Jake kid.
“Oh my god, if it isn’t Strider!” comes a high-pitched squeal from the opposite end of the mess hall while you’re just about to take a seat. You glance up, inwardly sighing (though smiling some) as the source of the voice makes her way over.
“I didn’t think I’d see you here at all!” she giggles into her hand, blonde curls teasing at her neck and her eyebrows playing a way that makes you think she totally expected to see you here.
“Are you the little bird who signed me up for a dumb invite here?” you ask, continuing to pull out the chair of the table and take your seat.
She leans her head to the side, laughing, “Oh, I guess so! But what does that matter anyway? You’re the one who went ahead and signed up, which I definitely didn’t expect!”
“And I didn’t expect you here, Rox,” you muse before she immediately thrusts some poor girl toward you by the back of her shoulders. The girl squeaks in surprise, looking at you with blue eyes behind mousey, round glasses.
“This is my roommate, Janey!” Roxy giggles again. “Ain’t she cute?”
“It’s just Jane!” she huffs, trying to stand up straight and dust herself off. Oh brother.
“Yeah, yeah,” you chuckle, before outstretching your hand to the poor bothered girl. “Name’s Dirk, Roxy here is an old friend of mine. Don’t let her mess with you too much, okay?”
Jane shakes your hand pretty assuredly, relaxing some with a laugh a bit like a cartoonish owl. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, she seems sweet enough, certainly.” Roxy huffs, puffing out her cheeks while Jane continues, “And you’re quite a gentleman yourself, Dirk, it’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” you say, letting go of her round little hand. “Funny, been called that more today than I have in years.”
“Oh?” Jane asks with polite curiosity. “By who else?”
“My bunkmate,” you astute with a shrug, deciding to turn to your food and expecting Jane and Roxy to take their seats at the table with you.
“Ooh!” Roxy gasps. “Where is he? We should have him sit with us! And hey, Dirk, maybe you’ll—“
You cut her off, knowing full well where she’s running with that, “Sure, why not.” You then stand and look around, spotting Jake wandering around in search of a place to sit at, in fact.
“Yo, English!” you holler with your hand curved gently next to your mouth, and he blinks, eyes fixating on your before bursting into another grin (he seems to do that often) and scurrying over toward you.
“Hey Strider!” he chuckles (you think he just may be a little more than pleased at your relation to your Bro) before looking over the group. “Oh, who are these lovely ladies?” he beams before winking at the both of them. You note that this guy seems like the type who thinks he’s a ladies’ man but really isn’t. Fan-fucking-tastic. You guess you’ll be finding out shortly whether that’s essentially annoying on all possible levels, or if it gives him the certain charm few boys are capable of, in an almost endearing sort of way.
“This is Roxy,” you gesture at her with a limp movement of your gloved hand. “She’s an old friend of ine. And that’s Jane, she’s Roxy’s roomie.” You then move on to Jake, “And girls, this is Jake English.” He shakes both of their hands, Roxy winking (like she always does), and Jane’s cheeks flushing a bit while she smiles at him (you can already see where this is going). “Why don’t you have a seat?” you offer, focusing back on forking some mashed potatoes into your mouth.
“Don’t mind if I do!” and with that he’s taking his seat pretty quickly, sliding his tray onto the table and eating off it near immediately.
It was odd, really.
She supposed most things were odd to her though - or rather, she surrounded herself by the odd. Rose Lalonde was a woman of peculiar interests and even more peculiar thoughts, staring into the distance with even more distant eyes. Her fingers as a child flicked through pages of forgotten lore, of the spells of the people she was meant to look down upon, the people she was meant to stick up her nose at before folding her hands and letting her carriage carry her away. But as has been said and will likely be said time and time again: the peculiar was largely to her fancy, and she sat in her room, pursing her round, painted lips as she daydreamed of them.
But what was odder still was the presence she had begun to feel. At first she’d thought it was her paranoia - as a young girl she felt and heard many a thing, but her mother and her elder sister always assured her it was nothing, that they’d dull with time. And so they did and so she began to ignore whatever sorts of things she heard.
But it was… more than simply that. It began as a simple presence, lingering and fading through the walls her back was turned to, sliding through the building slowly and with the faint feel of disinterest. Rose could sense this sort of feeling so she turned her cheek, letting herself be engulfed in a sort of disinterest as well. It escalated though, the feeling of smooth, gentle hands rested upon her shoulders as she wept into her own, a fading feeling of fingertips brushing just against her shoulders. A pair of lips pressed itself to her blonde hair, those fingers from before smoothing the bangs over her forehead in an adoring gesture. She felt off her rocker, insane, ‘round the bend, and so many other things, but it soon became her only comfort, her only solace; this presence that had no name nor face.
Soon she began to see though - the evening moonshine fading through her thin curtains and the light casting shapes of dust and a faint, jade iridescence. Glowing white fingertips would glide over her own with a steamy smoke that had no feeling to it aside from the knowledge it was there, fingernails green like the outlines that came. It was always at night when the moon was high, and she thought it must’ve been some dream, some subconscious desire for the outlandish as well as catering to her longing for partners of a much less… anticipated form, a feminine, loving appeal as opposed to the rugged forms so expected for a woman her age.
She remembered clearly the night she first saw her face. It was by candlelight and she rested in the corner, barely visible eyebrows knitted together in perpetual worry while her lips pouted, jade and brilliant by the flickering flame. Rose stood, the bare pads of her feet rubbing silently against the floorboards as she stepped forward. When she was inches away, the form’s eyes flicked up, bright and glowing like her pearly skin, eyebrows now shocked but still lined with her constant worry.
The first night she saw her face was the first night she cupped her face, feeling it against her skin like mist on a humid dusk.
It became her own little private affair - dismissing herself from the duties she once found so vehemently important to dwell within her quarters, hands lining up with dainty, elegant palms and lips pressing against lips that felt as wispy as the wind. They never spoke (though some nights when the form thought Rose to be asleep, Rose heard her sing and it was the most beautiful song she’d ever heard), just held close in the pale light and felt one another breathe the crispy, evening air.
When she first spoke, it was her name, and it was after a decent amount of coy smirks and batted eyes from Rose before she whispered it. “Kanaya.” It was outlandish, and so damn beautiful, the word repeated slowly on her tongue. She spoke more beyond that, in fact she spoke much and many words, an exceptional vocabulary to go with the exceptional life she had lived. They exchanged stories, witticisms - they created a banter than writers could only dream of matching in their works.
They were in love, and Rose’s elder sister knew it. She knew that look and she knew it well, and oh how she worried, but oh how Rose would block her out and say nothing, and merely close the door behind her ample fingers to lose herself in her darling sylph once more.
They lost themselves in the nighttime, fingers over smooth skin and a languid tongue that wasn’t quite a tongue bringing unexpected pleasure. Their intimacy was the sort reveled by poets, dreamed of by artists, and hoped for by the adolescents across all the globe. They pressed lips to lips and breathed close, feeling the heartbeat of the other as the eyelids slid shut, the wind bringing truth and their hair lining and dancing with one another.
Rose loved oddities, and she’d fallen truly, deeply, in love.
do not under any circumstances click play etc etc
this whole post is pretty much just me with my head in my hands giving you the dumbest knowing smile.
whoa I like this version does anyone have a download
jesus DICKS
Off The Handle - hrmnzr
entry number 1 for the homestuck music contest thing
a song for dave oop
This is an attempt at a theme for Jake English, tentatively titled Green Skull (this is a terrible name, help me out here)
The beginning is sort of an adventure theme, while the end is based off his ties to Lord English
Critique is appreciated of course!!
I’m seeing everyone posting their entries for the Homestuck Album comp so fuck it, here we go again. (In fact I think I updated it again, I can’t remember)
Haunter - Coolkid (Goddamn It, Strider)
Work in progress, nowhere near finished, blah blah blah you get the idea.
holy shit, earfuck
oh
yes good
oh my god
melts
FUCK
JESUS SHIT
GOD!!!!! this is !!!! FUCK!!!
DJKSDFJKEHFJKHSDKLHDJEHDFHLWJKHE
YES
OH MY SHIT
THE BEAUTY
first ten seconds and holy fuck/////////
First, go grab some headphones. The best ones you’ve got. If the best ones you’ve got are these suckers (or something similar), you should really go buy new ones, but use the best you’ve got for right now.
Take a break from whatever you’re doing for 2 minutes and listen, but just listen to the whole thing, even if you have to multi-task.
Headphones on? Ok. Good.
Now, press play.
“Upular (3D Audio Version)” - Pogoomg
Guys. Guys. You should really listen to this as instructed, guys.
It is worth it.
dude these are so fucking cool.
English version of Lucifer… holy shit
this made me come back here.
holy shit i liked it
i thought it would be another fail dubshit
but omg this is gonna be my ringtone for when i’m with asshole classmates~
THIS. IS. GREAT.
omg can shinee sing this it’ll be so much better than their japanese songs and they’ll be more famous in america
i FEEL LIKE I HAVE BEEN MIND FUCKED.
OMG
omg
This was SO good.
omg the rap part was fucking awesome
