thearena | watch a hater hate me [closed]

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watch a hater hate me [closed]

Who| Dave Strudel and Eridan Amphro
What| Eridan gets a gun and uses it to get himself some quality time with Dave.
Where| The Homestuck Store
When| Late into week 2
Warnings/Notes| Anything that being held at gunpoint could entail, forced role playing, Eridan.

Dave's mental state since his last with Eridan has vastly improved. Loki might be a fake boyfriend, but he's a cathartic one and a helpful one. Dave feels like he has a better foothold in the Arena when he's traveling with someone who really knows their shit, so he's been surviving quite well. Of course, he hasn't been able to push the fight entirely from his mind. This is both because it's really the closest he's come to killing someone in cold blood and because he decided that the best way to deal with that was to make himself a tooth necklace. Though to be fair, that was mostly due to Initiate's assistance.

It's hard not to think about a guy when you have his teeth hanging around your neck like a sign that says "don't fuck with me", but Dave hadn't even considered that he might have gotten his hands on a gun of all things. As such, he enters the trollier Homestuck store without much of a care for who might find him.

He has a sword slung over his back in a makeshift sheath for convenience and a skateboard hanging limply in his hand as he trails around the store with veiled amusement. Told you, Sollux, you're all gimmicks. Look at all this paint, all these horns and buckets and cultural fuckery. Damn, half of their fans wouldn't even know how goddamn annoying it is to live with these guys for three years. Dave almost considers the benefits of making a David Attenborough style documentary, shitty graphics and all. He's giving it serious thought as his hands reach out to squeeze idly at a makeshift scalemate, shoulder straightening in surprise as it squeaks loudly.

Way to be inaccurate, fuckers. He scoffs to himself, a little too enchanted with the bullshit here.

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Eridan's mental state hasn't improved all that well since they fought. He's had the chance to teach Feferi how to use a gun, even if the gun is Sollux's (ugh), which was nice, but with everything going on through the week, and his anger seething... He's just really pissed off at Dave still.

Which is a good thing, all things considered. All, black things, considered, that is.

So when he grows curious to the troll-y looking shop, and peeks inside, only to find Dave, he feels a full body rush of disgust jolt through him like a bolt of lightning just struck him. His anger spiking, fins flaring, and his heart fluttering. Honestly, he's so distracted by Dave he doesn't even notice most of the questionable apparel, or the... buckets.

Uhm.

Gripping his gun tightly in his hands, he quietly approaches. Dave's not unarmed, which makes this all the more enthralling, but Eridan's not looking to possibly get stabbed today. Or even for another duel, no, he has something else in mind, something that'll return what pride and dignity (and teeth) Dave took from him earlier.

Once close enough, he puts the barrel of his carbine to Dave's back, letting the hard cylinder uncomfortably dig against him, "Well, well, what hawe we here? Don't make any sudden mowements, or my prong might accidentally squeeze, an' wouldn't that be a fuckin' shame?"

Romance is the furthest thing from Dave's mind when it comes to Eridan. Black or not, he hasn't perceived anything Eridan does as an advance, he just thinks the guy really wants him dead. That only goes to show his inexperience with that quadrant in particular, because Eridan is flirting hard and Dave keeps flirting back despite himself.

His eyes are flicking over merchandise when Eridan approaches, giving the illusion that he doesn't hear it while his hand grips his saber a little tighter. He's waiting for the opportune moment to spin around and strike, but the discomfort of a cylinder digging against his back is probably the most sobering feeling he's ever experienced.

Shit. He forgot about guns. It only gets worse when the assailant speaks and he needs to bite back a groan. There's a tiny part of his brain reminding him that if he'd killed Eridan this wouldn't have happened, but he dismisses it. He can talk his way out of this, he's sure.

"Hey sunshine." He stiffens himself in position so there's no threat of movement. "Miss me that much, huh?"

Thus is the handicap of being human. Not knowing when a boy is laying it on thick and wants your jimmies, and has done everything but spell it out for you in his kick ass royal blood on the floor in a way that would seem creepy to humans, but maybe eccentrically romantic to trolls.

When Dave speaks, Eridan's fins perk and he narrows his eyes as he snarls a bit. The sunshine comment is interesting, considering Eridan is about as deadly as a ray of sunshine on Alternia right now. It's almost a complement, really. But Dave's too casual with a gun to his back, with his life in the palms of Eridan's hands--literally. It inspires Eridan to dig the barrel even more.

"You could say that, there's just somethin' about that nauseatin' face a yours that begs to be seen again." He looks to the saber, his mouth pursing into a thin line.

"Toss the sword away from you, we got business to do an' I ain't interested in you gettin' any ideas." He punctuates it with jabs from the tip of the gun against Dave's back. A latent threat that if Dave so much as makes him think he's getting hostile, he'll blow a hole through his spine.

Any other time, a snarl is just the result of a job well done for Dave. It means he's successfully pissing Eridan, which is great, just not right now. Maybe. There's something about the way he talks about his face that just seems off and maybe the pieces are slowly clicking together, but he doesn't feel like much of a big shot rival with a gun to his back.

Dave is scared, even if he isn't showing it. He's trying not to freak out because he'll work better if he can keep a clear mind. The barrel digging into his spine is enough to make him let out a disgruntled hiss, his shoulders tensing all the more. This is exactly why trolls shouldn't have been given weapons, he thinks. He just hopes Eridan doesn't draw this out too much.

"Yessir." He says with enough of an obliging air to make him sick. His dad gave him that sword, man, but here he is tossing it to the side and raising his hands in surrender because he's all good and playing along. "So, what business are you looking for, exactly? I don't remember penciling you into my calender."

Eridan watches him as he grabs the sword, watching for anything that may be taken as a threat to his safety, any bit of movement that may seem like an attempted strike against him. None is to be found, and with satisfaction he watches as the sword is tossed aside like commanded.

Dave's complacency is great, honestly, and the amount of control Eridan has over the situation is soothing to the troll's temper. Even if Dave's a little sassy still, but that's fine. He wouldn't be Dave without it, it's annoyingly endearing to say the least.

"Funny that, I don't need you to pencil me into nothin'. I'm a bit too important for simple schedulin'." Another jab, "Turn around."

It's aggravating and just a little humiliating, but Dave is rarely the one to make a scene for the principle of it all. Unless it's the principle of being lazy, and being shot in the spine sounds like the opposite of a lazy man's choice right now. It'd be just as degrading to be paralysed or bleed out or just die in general in front of this chump. He can risk a little bit of compromise for the sake of avoiding that, but not knowing what Eridan's supposed business with him is the real concern right now.

"Seems like all the more reason to- ow. God, I'm moving alright? You're going to bruise my spine." He wouldn't be him if he didn't go down complaining like a bitch. The request reminds him of the teeth he has hanging around his neck and his gut wrenches. That could be an instant down spiral, but he can either look nervous or pull the accessory off with all the grace he had intended to use when he first put it on.

So he turns, with his head tilted up a little to give Eridan a nice look at it. He tries not to stare at the gun, he just stares at Eridan through his nice, sneaky shades.

"You look good with bruises, 'specially ones I giwe ya." He retorts flippantly, but then Dave's turning as commanded, and he's sneering smugly at the blond. His eyes are on his face, but they drop as soon as something familiar catches his eye. Something intimately familiar. His eyes go wide, and all smugness leaves him. What replaces it... isn't exactly anger, and it's almost a weird mix of being affronted and flustered. His fins flare out a bit, and slightly flutter as he stares at the necklace made of his own teeth.

Perhaps to a troll that has no black intentions for this human this would seem like a pretty strongly forward advance, but to a troll who has been laying it on so thickly this whole time, it comes across like Dave knows and understands what's happening. And it's pretty touching! Eridan can't help the violet that raises to his cheeks as he stares at the necklace, or the nervous swallow that follows.

"An' here I wasn't sure if you had it in ya," what, he doesn't clarify before moving on, his eyes focusing back at his face as he jabs the barrel into his gut almost affectionately, "We're gonna play a game, you an' me."

Edited 2014-09-06 17:07 (UTC)

There are a lot of lines Dave could say in response to that assbackward compliment, ones regarding how Eridan looks better when his face is obscured and so on. He even considers it, but the words fall short when Eridan reacts to his little battle token. He quirks a brow, awaiting an inevitable tidal wave of anger and disapproval and not the flustered surprise he gets.

Is he.. is he blushing? Oh. Oh no, is he reading it like.. no. Has he felt this way the whole time? Suddenly flippant comments make more sense, context has been added and Dave's gut is twisting even harder in horror. Nope. No way. He's been fucking encouraging him this whole time with his natural charisma and bad boy attitude. The idea of a game with Eridan just got a whole lot more horrifying, but he can't turn him down easy now. There's absolutely no room for a clarification of the platonic nature of hatred he has for Eridan.

He swallows hard, feeling world's of uncomfortable even before he's being jabbed in the gut with a gun. What's worse at this point in time? Really. But if he can just. Keep playing. He might be able to wiggle away in one piece.

"You had me at you and me." He quirks that brow again. "Is this really the time or place for a little impromptu chess? Maybe we can take the gun out of the situation and make this a little easier on the blood pump. Just you and me." Fucking kill him. He's already dead inside.

There's certainly something satisfying with the fear Eridan must be instilling in Dave. For all he may be playing it cool, being non-reactive, Dave wouldn't normally be this complacent. At least, Eridan doesn't think so. To have this control, to have Dave's subordination, it's absolutely thrilling. Almost as thrilling to have Dave reciprocating everything he's tossed at him thus far - or at least seems to be.

"I think the gun's necessary." He replies smoothly, "It adds a danger element, and what would this be without it?"

It's honestly more that Eridan wants Dave to fear him a bit, to see that he isn't so easily overpowered, and that he deserves some goddamn respect. Whether any of this actually occurs to Dave is another matter entirely. Eridan definitely likes the rest of what Dave says, and it leaves him grinning, preening almost. Yes, this is nice, this sort of hatred between them is great, and the fact that Dave does want this just between them, confirmation, validation... It's enough to leave the sea dweller almost giddy.

The stare he's giving Dave is almost dreamy, but then he moves his gaze to the horns on display behind Dave. They're a bit weird, kind of morbid really. But then, his eyebrows raise as he gets an idea.

"Dawe--grab one a those. Put 'em on. If we're gonna be doin' this shit proper, you need to be proper." And by proper he means a troll. Sure, no silly horns will actually make him so, but it fits the game he wants to play.

Humans don't FLARP, trolls do.

The whole game has changed now that the shoe has dropped. It's like someone started belting out coldplay in the middle of a rap battle. It's wrong. So very wrong. He doesn't even realize how much his complacency is doing for Eridan, he's pretty much lost his sense of what to do now. He could potentially flirt his way out of it, but then what? Have the Capitol start pushing them together? Have to deal with a newly encouraged Eridan? He doesn't know much about him, but he knows the vague story of what happens when you break up with him.

Fuck it. If he wants to live now and not die embarrassingly he's going to have to play along.

"Intimate." He spits out in response, trying not to pull a face like he just french kissed a lemon. "It's no fun if we don't even out the playing field, right? Guns are so.." He twists his hand as he searches for the word. "Inelegant? I guess."

He doesn't yet realize that Eridan wants his fear and uncertainty, because he's playing right into that. The dreamy look Eridan gives him is more uncomfortable than anything, he doesn't like being looked at like that by anyone. Let alone some asshole alien with an obsession.

"What's proper about that?" He raises a brow, but he continues to be compliant as he shuffles toward them. This is going to be humiliating no matter what, isn't it? He looks at all of the horns like he needs to choose between eating two disgusting dishes before reaching for a spiked pair reminiscent of Terezi. Though he takes them, he's yet to put it on his head. He's just holding them and giving Eridan a look like c'mon, really? If he weren't wearing shades, he'd almost be giving puppy dog eyes.

Edited 2014-09-07 02:33 (UTC)

"On the contrary." Eridan replies, a hint of amusement to his tone, "I find them wery elegant, like a center piece to this whole soiree."

He watches Dave as he selects his horns, rolling his eyes when he picks the ones that resemble Terezi's the most. Of course. Though he'd feel weird if Dave picked the pair that looked most like his own, so he lets it pass. He raises an eyebrow when he doesn't put them on, however. Since that's. The point. Dave. He absolutely ignores the look, were it not for the glasses blocking the puppy dog eyes, he might have had some mercy.

For a second.

"What's proper about it is we're gonna be playin' a troll game, an' you ain't wery troll-ish, now are you?" He motions with the barrel of the gun from the horns to Dave's head, "Put them on an' pick a troll name, 'cos Dawe ain't one."

Is he serious? He certainly looks it. For all he's obviously amused by this whole thing, there's most certainly a tone of seriousness behind it. He is as serious as a heart attack right now.

"You're the boss." Have some more complacency as Dave resists the urge to sag his shoulders in defeat. Some people would want to do this with dignity, but Dave isn't opposed to trying to wiggle out of this with whatever charm and grace he might happen to possess. Clearly that's working well for him so far, since he's belligerently slipping the headband of the horns onto the top of his head so they nest in his hair.

It's not that bad. It's not that bad. It's not that bad. It could be worse. Oddly, that doesn't seem to ease the knot in his gut, the one that tightens every time he sees that gun. He's not nearly so reckless as to imagine being shot is really better. The more he thinks on it, the more it seems obvious Eridan wouldn't shoot to kill anyway. He can't afford to be lurching around the Arena with gunshot wounds, just as much as he can't afford to bail on his friends by dying, come to think of it.

"Negatory, I am a meat popsicle by definition." He nods evenly, as if parroting off a trained response. His lips twitch as he bites down the urge to spew out a long, metaphor filled 'fuck you' speech for Eridan. He thinks on it for a brief moment, but in his heart of hearts he can't stop being a smart ass. "Daveve, obviously." He shrugs. "Seems like a logical course of action." And a purposefully irritating one given the amount of v's in that name.

Eridan looks pleased as punch when Dave says he's the boss, because fuck yeah he is. He watches the other boy as he puts the horns on - he looks ridiculous - smirking, clearly satisfied with the end results.

He could make him put on the grey make-up he can see just over yonder, but he thinks the horns will do. Besides, he wants to get to the main event, and waiting for Dave to cover himself with grey would take too long. That aside, it's pretty space racist that they've even offered this shit to humans. As if giving them the chance to dress up as them and mock them or something.

Fucking humans, seriously.

"Dawewe--" he frowns, but it's a proper troll name, and so he lets it slide, even if he can't pronounce it correctly. Eugh "Last name too, Strider has one too many letters."

Hopefully he won't make it something with too many V's either. The jackass.

Edited 2014-09-12 16:09 (UTC)

Dave's eyes follow Eridan and, though he remains as neutral as possible, he silently prays that Eridan will pass up that paint. Being covered in greasy, grey paint would make this an extra level of annoying that he isn't willing to commit to. Relief is instantaneous when he focuses on something else, but of course it won't last long. It's a dangerous lull in a situation that will never feel like anything but a cringefest.

It could be worse. Never stop saying that. Even as Eridan draws this out to be the dumbest and longest moment he's ever lived to experience.

"Stridr." He answers blandly. "There's no 'e'." He adds before Eridan can correct him and draw this out even more. "Alright quick let's play, I am raring to go you have no idea. I'm looking so fresh with my horns and I am the exact right blood caste for this hypothetical situation."

He did open his mouth to protest, but then Dave adds that bit about the lack of an 'E', and he lets it slide. It technically works, so whatever. So Dave isn't as creative as Eridan gave him credit for, but he's not horribly surprised.

"Fine, Dawewe--er, whatewer, that works, no need to nitpick since you're beggin' to get goin' with this an' all." Yes, he's definitely begging, Eridan. "The game we're gonna play is a game I used to play back on Alternia, I'd be a filthy lyin' bottomfeeder if I said I didn't miss it, so you're gonna be indulgin' me. The game is called FLARP, ewer heard of it?"

He eyes him curiously, before going on, "I'd be surprised if not, since Ter played it quite a bit. She didn't compare to me or Wris, seein' as she an' me were the best a the best, but she had her merits, I'll admit. Respect where it's due, all that shit."

Now he's pacing past Dave, glancing at all the merchandise, but he's keeping himself turned just enough to keep the gun pointed at Dave, finger tightly on the trigger.

"Shame there ain't proper costumes in this place, I'd kill to hawe my ol' FLARPin' coat. Anyway, I was--am a seagrift, and I'd say we could roll you a class, there ought to be dice around here somewhere--but that'd be a waste a time 'cos I know exactly what you're gonna be." He says rather pompously before facing Dave entirely again.

"You're my captiwe, my war-slawe, if you will. Your stats don't matter. As for blood caste, I think that sickly red hue you like so much suits you just right."

Edited (OMFG WORDING) 2014-09-16 17:52 (UTC)

"I've heard of similar concepts." He says with the barest wobble in his voice, because despite having a gun pointed at him and horns on his head, he needs to fight the urge to laugh at what a dweeb Eridan is. That's all he is, a hopped up fucking nerd on a power trip. That's a dangerous combination, nerds are deadly if you back them into a corner.

"She never mentioned it. Or you. From the shame, probably." There's an attempt to sound rueful there, as if also in mourning for his stupid jacket. He doesn't like the way Eridan's hand sits on that trigger, he can still feel his heart in his throat and he feels sick. Playing along will be easy, but Eridan's temperament is a little unpredictable. Just a fucking tiny bit.

"Sick. Alright sir, what would you have your humble man slave do at this quintessential moment in time? Because, as we know, my opinion is absolutely moot and there's no need to restate this but I will anyway because I want to be absolutely crystal clear on that part. Sir."

Edited 2014-09-18 13:21 (UTC)

It really is all he is, his wants are actually hilariously simple and mundane. He just wants someone to roleplay with, and he's willing to hold someone at gunpoint to get his needs met. It's pretty pathetic, not that he'd be willing to admit that.

"I wouldn't be surprised if that's the case." He agrees easily enough, seemingly buying Dave's rueful tone. Whether he actually does or not doesn't matter, the fact Dave's humoring him is enough. Sad as it is.

Rolling his eyes, he gives Dave a flat look, "Could you, at the wery fuckin' least, get into character? Who the fuck wants to be a slawe? Not many with workin' pans, but I mean... if that's your, uh, thing, then sure."

Makes him think of Equius, and while in his more desperate days he hit on that sack of stinky sweat, he's still kinda weird. Sure, Eridan would take advantage of his need to be dominated by a superior without a doubt, but he's still fucking weird and uncomfortable. But Eridan could swallow it for the sake of his superiority being respected.

Edited 2014-09-19 16:11 (UTC)

Seriously? That wasn't good enough? Short of bending down and pressing his face against Eridan's buttcrack he's not sure what the fuck he's meant to do. Of course, he has a vague idea, but the pure amount of do not want in him is giving him an existential crisis.

"Right, well if you wanted me to play naughty rebel slave you should have said something. I'm an actor, I need more specifics. I need to know the drama, the headspaces. What's your character thinking? What's my character thinking? What's my motivation? I think, if we really want this to work, we need to get right down to how this.." He lifts his hands as if to illustrate some sort of metaphorical amalgamation of what this. "Makes you feel." He gestures toward Eridan.

When in doubt, bullshit your way out, right? But he has a gun so..

"Alright so just imagine I'm shaking in my boots. I'm scared. I'm a troll-school drop out, I hit the seas on a whim thinking I could make something of myself and now I'm spending every other night in some strange man's bed. He gives me money but it'll never ease the pain I feel inside knowing that my child will never know his father. You kidnapped me and for the first time ever I have direction. That direction is you. I hate you. Should I mop something?"

Eridan has standards when it comes to roleplay, and Dave just has to meet them. He'd accept no less than the best, and he'd push Dave till he got what he's after.

However, he's staring at Dave as he goes on about this, really getting into the whole thing, apparently. The questions leave Eridan surprised, and thinking actually. He watches Dave's hand movements, and then looks seriously contemplative. Sure he roleplays and shit, but it's mainly showing, not telling, so actually thinking about this and parsing it into words is new.

But no less fun.

When Dave goes on, Eridan can't help but gawk at him in embarrassed surprise at what he's saying. He didn't mean Dave's a fucking sex slave, holy fuck, that's not--he just wants Dave to hate him, and being a captive slave is a good way to spark the ire. He's not--"Wait hold the fuck up. I think you're takin' this to a context I wasn't meanin' for you to."

Eridan's rolling his eyes, trying to not show how much that interpretation of the situation has thrown him off. Sure, Dave goes on about hating him, which... makes his heart flutter a bit, but the rest of that... yeesh.

"I said you're a slawe, not a goddamn pail-whore. I ain't--My character wouldn't hawe yours in his 'bed' as you called it, and if you're a slawe anyway you wouldn't be gettin' money, that's not what a slawe is. Also, what fuckin' child?" Eridan almost sounds offended trying to understand where the fuck this all came from, and honestly, he is a little offended. Don't you hijack this, Dave, this is HIS scene, and you're not gonna ruin it with your weird asshole rambling!

Edited (IM SORRY I KEEP SEEING MISTAKES) 2014-09-21 15:33 (UTC)

This is all very surprising to Dave. He'd come into this situation (unwilling) expecting some sort of seasoned professional soul-bonder. He expected to be hearing the endless details of his character's dietary needs and the colour of his mane, not to mention the sound his hoofs make when they hit the floor. Maybe too much of his RPing had been doe with Jade, but even by his standards she wasn't so serious about it. Eridan, of all people, seemed like the kind of guy who would be reciting novels that he wrote himself.

Of course, Dave hadn't legitimately thought this to be sexual at all. He flippantly brought it up just to rub in how creepy this is, not that Eridan really understands the delicacy of his humor. Or anything to do with reading a social situation.

"Oh, really?" He does his best to sound unimpressed, like Eridan is childish somehow for not having ill intentions with this role play. Even if he's a little relieved. Hugely relieved. He can't show it. "Ever think this is what happens when you send me in blind? Slave is very vague, it implies a lot of things. Okay. So I'm walking out here or whatever, looking demure but also not happy to be here and now you're probably going to tell me to do something. That's your cue, go."

Eridan is a bit of a soulbonder, but the only roleplay partner he had that didn't die near immediately was Vriska, and it's not as if she'd listen to his babbling. She'd be too busy going on, and on, and on about her own. So, while the details are there, he has them pretty figured out, being asked is surprising and it takes him aback.

Eridan's face is all the more flushed at Dave's unimpressed reply, glaring brazenly at him for it. "Oh, my fuckin' bad I ain't some skeewy perwert that wants to feed into your apparent master-slawe rape fetish, or whatewer!"

But then Dave goes on, and Eridan is feeling a little less like he's in control here, and it's certainly pissing him off! So he snarls a semi-fangless snarl at Dave, pressing the gun to him, the barrel digging a bit.

"Don't get fuckin' sassy with me, worm. You keep pushin' this shit an' I'll paint the wall behind you with your disgustin' blood. Now shut your fuckin' trap an' get walkin'." The words are growled out as he nods towards the exit of the store. If they're gonna go hunting together, this store isn't the place for it.

"I forgive you." Dave says with a shrug, at least a little pleased with how flustered Eridan is getting as opposed to all the other things he's been. Unfortunately, like most good things pertaining to Eridan, it comes to an end. He's starting to think he's going to have a wicked bruise where he's being jabbed with that gun.

"Yeah, alright. You got it." He straightens his shoulders and looks straight ahead, miming zipping his lips and staying silent for a long moment before he gives Eridan an uncertain look. "Out there? Out of our cozy little place?" He's not terribly certain he wants anyone to see this, but it might be his only shot at getting a hand or making an escape. He really hopes it can be the latter, he really wants to believe he can handle this.

"Field trip it is." He says compliantly, striding forward a little faster than Eridan probably wants him to be. He needs to think fast, so clearly he needs to walk fast. That's how it works, right?

Eridan looks absolutely offended at being forgiven, and a little bit in disbelief. He really should pick up on Dave's sarcasm sometime, but it's pretty damn hard when Dave's so convincing!

He offers nothing but a flat look to Dave's question, which says more than he could verbally. Yes, out there, for all to see Dave, that's what he wants. At least Dave's moving the fuck along right after, that much is nice. Even if he's kinda. Going a little fast there.

Uhm.

"H--Hey! Don't walk faster than me, asshole, you stay at the tip of the barrel, and not a bloody inch further." Eridan's picking up his own pace to match Dave. Of course, he realizes that Dave's probably wanting to think of a way to escape, and so Eridan's keeping a close eye on his body language, if he looks like he's going to sprint, he'll squeeze the trigger and hope that he might not hit something too vital.

Even if the shot from the gun alone is pretty lethal in and of itself.

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