tweedymcgee
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Recent works
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Summary
“Yeah, we didn’t get that far,” you mumble into his hair. “Just tell me how it works, okay, take me to school, draw me a fucking flowchart. I gotta pass Getting Aliens Off 101 or I’m never gonna graduate, Vantas, help a dumbass out, bro, I got nothing.”
Your name is Dave Strider, and you are officially way out of your depth, but you're doing your level best here. (Setting: Meteor. A fade-to-black outtake from the slightly less xeno-licious Come On Up To The House.)
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Your name is JANE CROCKER, and you are OFFICIALLY PERPLEXED.
You have just received a strange package from your pal DIRK STRIDER, which you find somewhat concerning despite its general tone of GLIB HYPERVERBOSITY. Mainly because it includes several ITEMS OF IMMENSE PERSONAL SIGNIFICANCE that you happen to know for a fact he’d rather not part with, and with which you could probably make a KILLING on EBAY.
Maybe this huge file that just arrived in your inbox from Dirk’s EQUALLY INSCRUTABLE DIGITAL DOPPELGANGER will clear things up.
Jane: Read this weird letter.
Series
- Part 5 of Automatic Transmission
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“I wish you had a mouth,” you say, nuzzling your face into his throat, and when he chuckles, it’s not just audio, you can feel it in his stomach.
“Science has yet to crack the Uncanny Valley problem,” he says, reaching for your face to cup your jaw in his hand and run his smooth-jointed thumb over your cheek. “Trust me, it’s better this way. Imagine, some kind of silicone-wrapped servo contraption, it’d be like making out with a fuckin’ laundry wringer.”
Not much to see here. Just two lonely, messed-up people -- one of whom happens to be a robotic AI with inscrutable sex issues and a limited lease on life -- trying to make the best of the apocalypse.
Series
- Part 6 of Automatic Transmission
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Summary
He pauses for breath, clenching his hands into fists, and it occurs to you that the one word that hasn’t been unleashed in the godawful torrent of semantically bereft word garbage coming out of his mouth is stop.
Dave Strider has never mastered the First Law of Holes: When in one, stop digging.
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TT: Heady stuff. But what, the intrepid young explorer asks himself, the dickens might be required of me?
TT: An adventuring man, such as himself, had best be game for anything.
TT: I wonder if I just might be in over my noggin, he muses, looking off into the middle distance, as he runs a soft chamois over the slide assembly.You're in a bad way, brain-wise. Your virtual bro is, as ever, making it worse.
Series
- Part 4 of Automatic Transmission
Recent series
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- Words:
- 17,386
- Works:
- 6
- Bookmarks:
- 18
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- Words:
- 6,642
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 12
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Poems by tweedymcgee
Fandom A.E. Housman - Works, Doctor Who, Homestuck, Julia Moore -- Works, Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock - T. S. Eliot, Rudyard Kipling - Fandom, The Raven - Edgar Allan Poe, William McGonagall - Works
20 Aug 2012
Summary
The world is so full of a number of things
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.- Words:
- 3,135
- Works:
- 7
- Bookmarks:
- 1
Recent bookmarks
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Summary
AR wants a body. Dirk’s going to take some convincing.
Bookmarked by tweedymcgee
01 May 2016
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“Four Dirks In Search Of an Author”
“The Unbearable Lightness of Being Four Dirks”
“Dirkencrantz And Gildensdirk And Two Other Dirks Are Dead”- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,689
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 131
- Kudos:
- 1,996
- Bookmarks:
- 654
- Hits:
- 43,854
Bookmarked by tweedymcgee
08 May 2015
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Summary
Alpha Earth almost lucks out.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 11,936
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 26
- Kudos:
- 86
- Bookmarks:
- 31
- Hits:
- 1,076
Bookmarked by tweedymcgee
26 Feb 2015
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Summary
Feed a cold, starve a fever, and in the case of an ennui-filled Terezi Pyrope just quadruple caloric intake.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,280
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 49
- Kudos:
- 870
- Bookmarks:
- 234
- Hits:
- 18,333
Bookmarked by tweedymcgee
28 Sep 2012
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Summary
She rolls off your prostrate body, tugs your cuffs. She’s sharp as sin, tonight, slicked black from throat to heels in a Shipwright’s working clothes.
“Up and at ‘em, Conscript,” she says. “We’ve got a ways to go with you yet.”
Bookmarked by tweedymcgee
27 Sep 2012