blond boys hot ok

fic wips // contains nsfw and stridercest AO3: cuntfacedjohnny

[cuntfacedjohnny]

Healthy Self Reflection

Snippets: one | two

(the confrontation starts)

His complacency in his lack of self-discipline infuriated me. This is the kind of attitude that landed Dave with a shitty childhood. How pathetic that a version of me could dedicate his entire short life to something and still manage to fuck it up so spectacularly. 

By this time, he was barely even a Dirk anymore; even in his own mind he was just "Bro." After all, there’s no reason to hold onto an identity outside of a title when you know for an immutable fact what your life’s purpose is.

As the beer bottles grow in number my patience for this bullshit runs out. I know how this night ended. Not necessarily this specific night, but so many like it. I remember steadily knocking them back, waiting for the promised quieting of my mind. Nevermind that my goddamn kid was sleeping in the next room over. No, I was already well-practiced at convincing myself that Dave can take care of himself. 

"God, you’re embarrassing." The words are out of my mouth almost before I mean to speak. 

In an eyeblink he’s on his feet facing me in a low stance. Asshole isn’t used to being snuck up on. "You got ten seconds to get outta my house before I kick yer fuckin' ass." His Texan drawl is more pronounced with the slur the booze gives his words. 

"You won’t do that. Besides, I have every right to be here. This is my house, too, after all."

He squares up at me and steps forward with solid intention, trying to intimidate me with his muscular build. It’s pathetic and completely predictable. "I don’t know who th' fuck you think you are but–"

"You know exactly who I am."

And he does know. He suddenly knows enough to scare him into backing the fuck down. He knows that I am him, or he is me, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I know him inside and out and there is nothing he can do that I won’t see coming a mile away. 

Now that I’ve pierced through the drunken fog of his mind he’s actually taking me in. "The fuck you wearin'," he grumbles with a pointed look at my legs.

"Tch." It figures he would go for the pantaloons first. "This is simply how I’ve chosen to represent myself as God and creator to the world I plan to create, but that isn’t relevant to you." I attempt to wave the topic away. "You’ll be long dead by the time those events come to pass."

"Wow, that is some self-important horseshit that you just spewed. Guess you never got that beaten out of you as a kid. That’s one point to the Texas public school system."

"Because clearly you’re the epitome of what we always hoped to be."

He shrugs. "Never said I was. But at least I’m not claiming to be a God while dressed in cosplay."

He's trying to get a rise out of me. I know this and I still take the bait. "You were relegated to irrelevance and an early death in service of someone actually important and you can’t even get that right."

His face tightens a fraction. "Kid’s still alive, isn’t he? He made it through whatever bullshit trials he’s meant to do. I managed to gather that much."

[cuntfacedjohnny]

Don't You Know Who I Think I Am

Snippets: one |

Ship: A!Dave/Karkat | Rating: M

Tags: Humanstuck, No Sburb AU, Open/Unhappy Ending, Explicit Drug Use, Minor Domestic Violence, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Plot Summary: Dave and Karkat unwind in their hotel room after a weekend of film festival appearances. Dave lets his neuroses get the best of him.

You and Karkat stumble into your hotel room as the door opens. The final day of SXSW is finally over and your train is headed straight for relaxation station.

Once you get inside, you make a beeline to the minibar. “Hey, let's have another round before calling it a night,” you call over your shoulder. “Celebrate getting through all those public appearances.”

“Sure, make me something with rum in it. I’m getting out of this fucking suit,” he says, walking to the bedroom.

When Karkat reemerges in gym shorts and a worn t-shirt, his shoulders are noticeably more relaxed.

“Ooh baby, look at you! I gotta get me some of that. And by ‘that’ I mean that max comfy action.” You hand him his glass plus cocktail and move past him to change into your own pajamas.

He’s splayed out on the couch when you get back, taking a leisurely pull from his drink.

You grab your own glass from the side table and flop down next to him, only splashing a bit onto the cushion. “God, it feels good to get out of those clothes.”

“I don’t know how you do it so often. I feel like those suits sap the lifeforce straight out of me.”

“Eh, you get used to it. It’s second nature to me by this point.”

“Speaking of which, I met someone tonight that knew you back when you were first getting your start.”

“Oh? Which figure from my lurid past did you manage to run across?”

“It was…Ampora…someone? He was telling me a story from your first movie. He was…an assistant producer or something?”

You wrack your brain. “Ampora…” You run through your mental rolodex. “Wait…Cronus Ampora? Ugh, Karkat, you wanna stay clear of that guy. Shit, all the young actresses I’ve had to comfort after coming out of his office…” You let your words trail off. Karkat gives you a tired look.

“Oh goddamn it, really? I was gonna send him my script, too.”

“Yeah, he can put on the charm with the best of them. How else do you think he got to be a producer?” 

Karkat twists his mouth and sips from his drink. “All I want is to work with someone who isn’t a complete bottom-dwelling lowlife. Is that really so much to fucking ask?”

You love that Karkat has managed to stay clear of the worst of Hollywood’s seedy underbelly. You were jaded a long time ago to the harsh realities of working in show biz. What it took to get by, the things you had to turn a blind eye to so as not to piss off the wrong people. You’re tired of the constant dance of give and take. It’s a breath of fresh air just to be with someone who says what they mean with no underlying motive. 

You kiss the furrow between his brows. “You’ll get there, babe. It took me ten years to get anyone to take me seriously enough to give me a chance.”

Karkat winces. “Ten years? Fuck, Dave, I don’t think I can take this bullshit that long. I’m about to be middle aged for fuck’s sake.”

“No no, but you have me! I can get you in with all the right people. Give your rep that patented Strider boost.”

“I told you, Dave, I won’t just ride your coattails the whole way. I’ll get my script optioned based on the quality of my work or not at all.”

“You will, babe! Your writing is fantastic and someone will see that.”

“Yeah, if I don’t die of old age first. Maybe this was all a bad idea. What am I even doing trying to break out of novels into movies? I got a steady income from my publishing company, why the fuck do I need to get into this shitshow?”

“Karkat, you’ll get there. Your shit is good."

Karkat’s lip quirks up for a moment but he continues to stare tiredly into the middle distance. Fuck, you did not mean to turn the mood down like that. 

Nah it’s ok, you can save it, this is what you do, you’re a pro at making sure everyone’s having a good time. You drain the rest of your drink and get to your feet. “I’m gonna bust out a line of blow. You wanna join me?”

[cuntfacedjohnny]

Healthy Self Reflection

Plot summary: Since becoming Ultimate, Dirk has had to reconcile the new memories he got from each of his splinters. While pondering his most problematic splinter, he decides to pay the guy a visit in person. They argue and then angry fuck about it.

Snippet: one | two

(Dirk considers Bro)

Taking in his being was the worst part of becoming my Ultimate self. And, make no mistake, the process as a whole had been quite terrible. Dave had told me stories of his guardian and I thought I had accepted the terrible things a version of me had perpetrated on someone I cared for dearly. After all, who knows better than I what destruction Dirk Strider is truly capable of?

It turns out there’s a difference between understanding events from a third-party perspective and knowing every thought, every justification and rock-solid reasoning behind every action that I simultaneously knew had been horribly destructive. Every memory was part of my own mind as if I had lived it myself, because I had lived it myself. There was no longer any thin veneer of plausible deniability. Dave’s Bro was and is me. 

I’ve always been the type to strive for as much knowledge as I could possibly get my hands on, no matter the cost. My ascendance has only further enabled that drive. The idea that I could ever wish I didn’t know something was completely foreign to me. I reasoned that maybe my mind was simply made of stronger stuff than others. After all, my whole life I had held terrible knowledge, about the world, about the future, and about my very nature, reflected in on itself and distorted with every splinter I created. It caused me pain but I never wished the knowledge would go away.

Knowing him is the closest I’ve ever come to understanding the sentiment of ignorance is bliss. 

Not that his memories were particularly painful in the grand scheme of things. No, it was his memories added to the knowledge of how it had ultimately affected Dave, compounded into the inescapable truth that he– I had failed in every goal I had set out to do in that life. Even Dave surviving SBURB couldn't absolve me of that failure. Lalonde herself would tell you that Dave’s successes were all in spite of the misguided actions of his guardian. And I would have to agree. 

Of course, I’m no stranger to failure. I was once mortal and a teenager and experienced many of the pitfalls common to beings of that persuasion. It was the sheer scope and depth of the failure that rankled me. How I could map out every ill-advised action and see the clear signs of tragic failure while also agreeing with the validity of the underlying logic behind it all. Dave’s Bro was by no means an unintelligent man. He knew exactly what he was doing when he put his kid's safety and well-being at risk time and time again and turned his home into a place where he could never let down his guard or feel at peace. 

As much as Dave would like to believe it, Lil Cal’s influence can’t even be blamed for it all. It’s true that the memories I have from being Dave’s Bro are all run through with a harsh undercurrent of HA-HA-HEE-HEE-HOO-HOO like a whisper being shouted through the heart. I recognize that growing up entwined with that twisted voice must have had an effect. What Dave doesn’t want to accept is that his Bro was still very much in there. I recognize those thoughts as inherently my own, ones I would not consider out of character in many of my other lives.