Dave Strider sat in the chair opposite the principal's. For the first time in his high school career, he had come in voluntarily. Which is not to say he wasn't in trouble; he had barged his way in and plopped down on the chair, assuming a relaxed and proprietary posture, fingers tented in front of his stoic face, as if he were the authority figure, and the principal the intruder. That was ten minutes ago. Finally, he spoke, sunglasses betraying no emotion. "Les Miserables, though."
Dave Strider wanted to put on a school play. And not just any school play, but an interpretation of the biggest musical ever written. The drama club had been dissolved years ago due to lack of interest, and he would need to cast dozens of characters, build Olympian sets, put in a heroic amount of hours of rehearsal, and somehow sell the idea of a three hour opera about war, crime and prostitution dealing with themes of rebellion against authority, the injustice of life, and religion to a modern American high school and their parents. "What's your point?" he asked. "You make it sound all hard. I can pull it off."
Somehow, Dave Strider got his funding, and the principal went home that day feeling as if he had been defrauded.
"What's this?" asked John, squinting at the flyer.
Dave adjusted his sunglasses. "It's a three hour opera about war, crime and prostitution dealing with themes of rebellion against authority, the injustice of life, and religion."
John grinned. "It sounds badass! Can I be in it?"
"Can you sing?" John sang a few lines of Old MacDonald until Dave had heard quite enough. "Yeah it seems you're destined to just hand out flyers for me bro, sorry."
John snapped his fingers and feigned disappointment. "Oh well, this is still going to be fun though, right?"
"Sure," said Dave in a lazy drawl. "You can be my personal assistant. Keep all these chumps in line. Actors are basically animals, Egbert."
John chuckled. "How many chumps have we got so far?"
Dave counted briefly in his head. "The two of us," he finished.
"Swag," said John.
"Now Rose, before you say no, just take a look at this sketch," Kanaya held up her sketchbook, opening it up to a page depicting an extravagant gothic-Lolita dress, layers of purple and black lace intricately embroidered with floral patterns, tasteful integration of bows and ribbons, topped with a nice turn of the century hat.
"It's lovely," said Rose after a moment of study, "but where would you expect me to wear it? Real people don't dress like this, Kanaya. I asked for something simple and elegant for the dance. Also this shows off entirely too much leg—"
Her insufferable prick of a brother and his henchman John Egbert burst into the room. "What do you two want now?" she snapped.
"Shut up, we're here for your girlfriend," said Dave, just as John waved enthusiastically and said, "hey Rose!" Dave strode up to Kanaya and snatched the sketchbook out of her hands, leafing through it in a few seconds before she even had time to demand it back. "You want a job, Maryam?"
"What are you talking about?" Kanaya growled.
Ignoring her, he said, "Because the dress on page fourteen would look absolutely beautiful on a 19th century French orphan."
The statuesque football player loomed large in the doorframe to the empty art-room. "Don't touch Nepeta," he warned. "Don't look her in the eye. Remove any and all artifacts colored purple before entering. Give her your pens as soon as you enter to avoid her taking them by force. And lastly—"
"DAVE!" A little ball of green tumbled past Equius and tackled the Dave to the ground. "I heard you were purring a on a play!" said Nepeta, shaking the prone cool-kid. "I want to do the sets! Can I do the sets!? That would be the cat's meow!"
"That wasn't even a pun," John interrupted.
The petit girl looked up and hissed at him. "Nobody cares John!" He bowed his head. "So can I?" Dave nodded his head. "Yessss!" She leapt to her feet and grabbed Equius's hand; it all but disappeared into his enormous palm. "C'mon, I need you to lift some things…"
Dave was seated on a raised platform in the auditorium, holding a megaphone. John was seated next to him, and had affected a red beret in honor of Cecil B. DeMille. Dave scoffed at such amateurish directorial wear and had gone for an eye-patch and a monocle, a combo that only director Fritz Lang had ever been badass enough to wear. His red eye glinted menacingly through the glass at the auditioneers.
"And IIIIIIIIIIIII wwill alwways love youuuuuuuuuu—"
"Stop," Dave spoke into the megaphone and his voice resounded through the entire building. "What the fuck are you doing here Ampora? You're accent is too thick and you stutter. You should have known how this would end. Get out."
Eridan glared. "Nevver havve I been so insulted in my life, Strider!"
"I'm glad you achieved something today," said Dave.
"Hey," said John, "He wasn't that bad, maybe he could play someone else?"
Dave motioned for him to continue. "Well," John turned to Eridan. "You have a really young, underdeveloped sounding voice. If you worked on your stutter, maybe you could be Gavroche?"
Dave blinked. "You mean the ki—"
"Kind, streetwise hero who martyrs himself for the cause," said John smartly.
Eridan swished his big, purple coat in what he assumed was a heroic manner and struck a thoughtful pose. "I think I could definitely do that! See Strider, a good director is supposed to wwork wwith his actors' strengths and find out what works best for them, not just ham-fistedly force them into what he wants and discard them when they don't fit."
Dave scratched his chin. "Maybe. Wwork on that stutter. Shit, you got me doing it." He pointed at the exit. "Get the fuck out. Don't come to us, we'll call you."
Eridan swirled his coat as he left. John and Dave laughed as the door slammed shut. "Next person."
Terezi Pyrope came onstage and offered a deep bow. Assuming a low, haughty tone, she spoke. "I am here to audition for the role of Inspector Javert."
"You're a girl," said Dave. "Next person."
"You didn't even let me sing!" Terezi shouted, stomping on the ground.
"You're a girl," Dave repeated. "Next person."
"Well," said John helpfully, "you kind of are a girl. And the character's a boy. It just can't be done."
Terezi growled. "I'm going to cut your fucking throat, Egbert!"
John threw up his hands. "Why just me!?" Terezi ignored him and stormed off the stage, flipping the bird as she went.
Without waiting to be called, Vriska Serket sauntered onto the stage. "I wanna be the female lead," she said, examining her nails.
Dave slapped his forehead. "I'm not even gonna ask if you can sing, just get off my stage."
"Oh c'mon Dave," said John, "You should just give her a chance! You gave Eridan a chance, and you hate him!"
Vriska tossed her unruly mane of red hair. "If Eridan gets into this play and I don't, there will be Hell to pay Strider!"
"I only let him try out to be funny," Dave pointed out. "And I was right to, it was hilarious. You are just gonna cause us all pain, I bet."
"You pretentious hipster motherfucker," she snapped, "I am a great singer! I have won awards. You are just some sunglassed douche who intimidated our rat of principal into letting you do what you wanted. I'm going to sing now, and then you're going to beg me to play Cosette!" She struck a choral pose. "And I shall consider it." Vriska cleared her throat and released a single angelic note—
And then stopped. "This is a duet! I need someone who knows 'A Heart Full of Love'."
Dave swore under his breath and almost called for the next auditioneer, consequences be damned. John raised his hand hesitantly, blushing slightly. "I'm pretty bad though," he warned.
Vriska grinned dangerously. "I'm good enough for both of us."
John cleared his throat.
JOHN
A heart full of love!
A heart full of song—
I'm doing everything all wrong!
Oh God, for shame,
I do not even know your name!
Dear Mad'moiselle,
Won't you say?
Will you tell?
Vriska giggled a little. "You're not that bad."
VRISKA
A heart full of love,
No fear, no regret.
JOHN
My name is Marius Pontmercy.
VRISKA
And mine's Cosette.
JOHN
Cosette…I don't know what to say.
VRISKA
Then make no sound.
JOHN
I am lost.
VRISKA
I am found!
JOHN
A heart full of light…
VRISKA & JOHN
A night bright as day!
JOHN
And you must never go away!
Cosette…Vriska
VRISKA
'Tis a chain we'll never break!
JOHN
Do I dream?
VRISKA
I'm awake!
JOHN
A heart full of love!
VRISKA & JOHN
A heart full of you!
JOHN
A single look and then I knew!
VRISKA
I knew it too….
JOHN
From today—
VRISKA
Every day—
VRISKA & JOHN
For it isn't a dream,
Not a dream after all….
Dave scratched his head for a moment. "Egbert what the fuck was that?"
John chuckled under his breath, coloring slightly. "What do you mean? I wasn't that bad was I?"
Dave grabbed him by the lapels. "How you gonna play me like that? Pulling that weak-sauce Old MacDonald shit earlier when you can apparently sing like a fucking angel?" Dave shook him a little to get the point across.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" He turned back to the stage, where Vriska was tapping her foot impatiently. "I guess…she just brought something out of me—"
"That is the lamest fucking shit I have ever heard Egbert and I am casting you as Marius right now!" He jumped to his feet and pointed at Vriska. "You're Cosette. He's your guy. Fucking do what you have to do with him to get a good performance out." She pumped her fist in the air and strode off the stage in victory. John watched her go dumbly.
"GOD. DAMMIT JOHN!" Karkat Vantas kicked open the double doors to the auditorium, covered in leis and feather boas. "LISTEN EGBERT, YOU ARE NO LONGER A CHILD. I KNOW YOU MEAN IT WELL, BUT YOUR PRANKS ALL FUCKING SUCK!" He tore off the leis, throwing the fake flowers to the ground and stomping them into oblivion. "AND I AM NOT A 'LONELY SOUL'. I DON'T CARE TO DATE AT ALL, SO DON'T TRY TO HOOK ME UP WITH YOUR GAY FRIENDS, I AM NOT A HOMOSEXUAL!"
Karkat continued his rant for a several minutes, John simply watching in amused fascination. Karkat didn't seem to get that people only messed with him because his anger was top-notch entertainment. It wasn't even quite bullying, because there was just something special about the way he exploded at people that just brightened their day. A thought occurred to Dave. He produced a tuning fork and struck it. Karkat was the most perfect tenor he had ever heard. "Good job," he said, clapping slowly. "You are now my Enjolras."
John burst out laughing. "Karkat as a revolutionary messianic figure driven by a burning passion? It's so unbelievable!"
"HEY ASSHOLE, I CAN DO THAT SHIT IN MY SLEEP," he said, shaking John by the lapels.
"Ow! Why is everyone doing that today!?"
"I DIDN'T EVEN CARE ABOUT YOUR DUMBASS PLAY, STRIDER," Karkat continued, ignoring John, "BUT I'M IN, JUST TO PROVE THIS DUMB-FUCK WRONG."
At the end of the day, Dave and John still needed a Javert, Fantine, Valjean, both Thénardiers, and several others, all of whom were absolutely essential to the production. They only had tomorrow for further auditions. "Well, it was fun while it lasted," said John, dusting off his hands. "Maybe we can switch to a smaller musical?" He snapped his fingers. "The Little Mermaid! I know a girl who would be perfect for Ariel—"
Dave shushed him. "Do you hear that?"
Someone was singing. "The habanera!" John said, just as Dave said, "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle."
John narrowed his eyes. "You fucking hipster, using the French name."
"Hush up Egbert," Dave said, adjusting his monocle. "Come with me."
?
L'amour est l'enfant de Bohême,
Il n'a jamais, jamais connu de loi;
Si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime;
Si je t'aime, prends garde à toi! (Prends garde à toi!)
Si tu ne m'aimes pas,
Si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime (Prends garde à toi!)
Mais si je t'aime, si je t'aime
Prends garde à toi!
"It's coming from backstage!" John whispered. Dave nodded and crept up onto the stage silently as a cat. John took off his shoes, not trusting his stealth, and followed. The voice was low and sultry, seductive as the song itself required, and had a wonderful way with Rs that made the spine tingle.
?
L'amour est l'enfant de Bohême,
Il n'a jamais, jamais connu de loi;
Si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime;
Si je t'aime, prends garde à toi! Prends garde à toi!
"No fucking way," Dave muttered. Kanaya sat on the floor, stitching away at a period-accurate frock, adding little hints and touches of patterns. As she worked, eyes half-lidded, she sang.
KANAYA
Si tu ne m'aimes pas,
Si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime (Prends garde à toi!)
Mais si je t'aime, si je t'aime
Prends garde à toi !
The finale was grand and resounding, filling the room with her clear, crystalline alto. John clapped loudly and whistled. "Encore!"
Kanaya finally saw the boys and blanched deathly white. "I'm so sorry, I'll leave now," she stood up to run away, but Dave flash-stepped in her way.
"You didn't tell us you could sing," Dave said.
"Oh, barely just," she reassured, looking around for some other exit.
Dave shook his head. "No. Egbert can 'barely just' sing and I gave him a part just like that," he snapped his fingers. "You could have your pick of any part in the show. Shit, I'd make you Javert if you wanted." Somewhere in the world, Terezi felt burning rage well up inside of her.
"Do you…do you really think?"
"Kanaya, that was amazing," John said. "I didn't even know what you were so saying but I absolutely got what the song was about! You have great talent! Your voice can convey emotion like nothing else! I totally wanted to have sex with you!" John covered his mouth. Kanaya reddened.
"Ignore Egbert, he's retarded," Dave sighed. "He's right though. You have, like, superpowers or some shit. Everything he said was true. You can fucking destroy people with your voice. We need to use that shit for evil." Dave got down on one knee. "Kanaya, will you be our Fantine, and sing the saddest song ever written?"
She looked incredibly overwhelmed. With this onslaught of praise and desperation, what else could she do? Trembling, she took Dave's hand in hers. "I'll do it."
Author's Note: I promise this will only take three chapters. It took like two hours to write so it won't take away from my other fics very much. Just some shit I cranked out that will probably amuse only me. It seems people like the idea of fusing Homestuck with Les Mis for some reason. I toyed with the idea, but decided it would just be quoting the songs with some names changed, and songs don't work well on paper at all. And yet this chapter had three….
Regardless, instead of writing some three hundred chapter epic that would leave emotionally drained, I thought this would be a fun little exercise where I would more…plan out a fusion than actually do one. And this way the characters aren't locked into their roles and can still act like themselves when they need to. I suppose one reason I thought to do this though, is because I was absolutely tickled to hear that plenty of high schools do actually put on this play. HOW? HOW DO YOU GET HIGH SCHOOL AGED CHILDREN TO CREATE THIS? HOW DO YOU GET THEIR PARENTS TO NOT EXPLODE AT THE MERE THOUGHT OF HALF THE THINGS THEY'LL HAVE TO DO ONSTAGE? IN AMERICA?
John would not be Valjean! Just because their names are similar…And Jack could never Javert! Jack is a fucking cancer and Javert is an idealistic lawkeeper. Redglare could be Javert though, and John could be Marius. How has no one seen this!?
Next chapter, we round out the cast, and a problem arises.
