#davejade fic

[davejade-sometimes]

sup

weve returned

we come bearing gifts in the form of a davejade au of the fluffy coffee shop variety 

in which dave is a cringefail loser and jade is the cute barista he goes to see every day

jade is an astrophysics major who works part time at sburban coffee

dave is an aspiring photojournalist who interns for the local paper

meetcute?

nah

meetfail

(throws davejade content at you)

[charmikarma]

merry christmas or whatever

i bring you a fic in which dave, jade, and karkat ride the polar express! it is silly and cute (mostly). not really About christmas as much as it uses christmas as a backdrop for some character study and a dash of davejade ;0

please give it a read if it sounds fun :3

[ode-2-joy]

found in the sand: chapter one

a davejade fic

Dave Strider was not afraid of airplanes. That’d be silly. That’d be ridiculous.

He wasn’t afraid of airplanes and he wasn’t afraid of heights, not even a little bit, so, obviously, flying from Houstin to New York alone for the first time wasn’t even that scary. He lived in a Saw trap-ass apartment with a man who thought peak comedy was putting weapons behind doors, he wasn’t scared of some flying metal tube, and he definitely wasn’t on the verge of tears just watching the clouds go past.

He wasn’t in the window seat, obviously, he took aisle, so he could get up and piss if he had to. He had his apple juice in one hand, his phone in the other, his earbuds in, his music blasting, and he was not afraid.

And then, for just a second, the lights flickered and the cabin shuddered. He jolted, splashing his apple juice all over himself and the woman next to him. She let out an indignant gasp, and he muttered something that could have sounded like an apology, unclipping his seatbelt and standing shakily. No, not shakily. He stood easily, loosely, his now empty cup hanging casually at his side, his phone sliding into his pocket like it was second nature. And then he calmly walked to the back of the plane, to the bathrooms.

They were both occupied, so he carefully arranged his body into a casual lean and slipped his phone back out of his pocket again, checking notifications. None, obviously. Cool.

The bathroom door opened and he nodded to the man who stepped out, slipping past him and into the cramped and small restroom. Because, here’s the thing. Even if Dave Strider was afraid of heights, he was much less afraid of small spaces where he could forget the heights.

Calmly, chilly, he used the toilet, flushed, and turned to the sink to wash his hands. For a brief second, he glanced at himself in the mirror, took in his dark skin and bleach fried hair, the acne on his cheeks, the massively oversized hoodie he wore. He looked like a tiny kid, he thought. Lame.

The cabin shuddered again, and he clung to the sink to wait it out. But it didn’t stop. Suddenly, he was violently tossed back, slammed against the wall. There was an impossibly loud sound coming from outside the bathroom, like a jet engine had plopped itself in the middle of the cabin. He scrambled for the door, trying to rip it open, but it wouldn’t budge. The plane was flailing violently, like it was being batted around in the air.

His elbow struck the wall and he screamed as he felt the bone of his upper arm splinter.

And then everything seemed to stop.

He was suspended in air, like in a moment of flight of his own, and he could feel his heartbeat. Thud thud. Thud thud. And then he was slammed to the floor, and everything went dark.

There were flashes after that.

A glaring green light.

A cold pain sinking into his bones.

Water in his lungs.

He didn’t want to die.

He didn’t want to die.

He didn’t want to die.

He woke up on a beach.

It was beautiful, beautiful in a way nothing else ever had been. The sand was so fine and white, the shells whole and uncrushed. The waves that lapped at his legs were warm and gentle, and the clouds overhead were impossibly soft looking.

He heard footsteps, and a gasp, and a bark. And then he was out again.

He woke up again, and this time, he was in a bed, a soft one, one that felt like actual heaven against his skin. His right arm was splinted, his cheek covered in a bandage, and from what he could feel under the blankets, his ankle was in a cast too. He felt… sick wasn’t quite the right term. He felt great, probably better than he should feel based on the situation, but at the same time, he was queasy, and his head hurt, and he was nervous enough he thought he was going to pass out again.

But he didn’t.

He sat up, and he looked around.

His bro had trained him well, he knew what to look for in a room.

It was… not what he would have expected. It wasn’t a hospital room, or a grungy basement with cameras set up to monitor him. It was an ornate, vintage style bedroom, with draping, gauzy curtains around the bed that didn’t really obstruct the view, but still seemed to keep in warmth. There was a large window seat across the room, and the window let in a slight breeze. A great unlit fireplace sat to his left, a giant globe in front of it, a taxidermied moose head above it. The walls were lined with bookcases, most of which didn’t have actual books on them, but rather small trinkets and tidbits, boxes and animal skulls and a couple fake human skulls. Or at least he assumed they were fake.

There were no weapons to look out for, no obvious traps.

He pushed aside the curtains, swung his legs out of bed, and carefully put some weight on them. His ankle was sore, but it didn’t feel… well, not really broken? Like, maybe a light sprain, but nothing that constituted a cast.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and a dog and a girl waltzed in. The dog, a massive, muttlike white thing immediately seemed to spot Dave and tensed, ears going back. It took Dave a moment to realize how improbable this was since it clearly didn’t have eyes. The girl, on the other hand…

She was tall, maybe taller than Dave, but she couldn’t be much older. She was wearing a pair of muddy overalls, some boots and a tank top. Her long, wild black hair was back in a braid, her glasses sliding down her long crooked nose. She tilted her head at him, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Hey,” Dave said, smoothly and calmly, his voice hardly cracking at all. “I- uh… I don’t think my ankle’s broken.”

“Not anymore, silly,” The girl laughed, abruptly, her stern expression fading. “I fixed it. You’re welcome.”

“Wh-” Dave blinked, slowly. “How long was I…”

“Only a month or so.”

“A month?” He spluttered. “That can’t be- no way.”

“What?” She frowned. “What do you mean? Twenty seven days, that’s almost a month.”

“I passed out- I wasn’t connected to an IV or anything was I? How’d I not starve, huh?”

She shrugged. “I ‘unno. But you’re fine.”

“Yeah, I don’t fucking believe you. Where the fuck am I, anyways?”

“Uhh… my grandpa's room?” She tilted her head.

“No, like… Texas, or Arkansas, or, like, fucking Washington or some shit?”

“Oh, you’re not in America, I don’t think. You’re on Harley Island.”

“Harley what?”

“It’s in the Pacific.”

“... You’re tripping. There’s no way… I’m supposed to be in Houstin, what…” He suddenly found it remarkably hard to breathe. “How… how do I call my dad, tell him where I am?”

“You can’t, there’s no cell signal, and our landline stopped working ages ago.”

“Okay, is there a government, or is this like… what level of island is this? How desert does a desert island gotta be?”

“It’s just me.”

He blinked, slowly. “No it’s not.”

“Um,” She blinked back. “Yeah it is?”

“No, it’s not. You just talked about your grandpa-”

“-Who died ten years ago,” She cut him off. “Do you really think I’d lie about this?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Because… because… how old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“You’re my age and you’re living on a desert island, alone.”

“It’s more of a jungle island,” She shrugged. “And I think my brother’s somewhere out there, but I haven’t seen him in a year or two.”

“If you were living alone, you’d be wearing, like, leaves and shit. And living in trees.”

“That’s dumb,” She tilted her head. “Okay, I’m done with this conversation. I think I don’t actually care whether you believe me, so I’m walking away. I have to go check on the garden and feed Bec, here. You can come with, if you want.”

“I don’t want.”

“Fine.” She shrugged, unphased, and with that, she left.

He huffed, reaching down and easily tugging off the cast around his ankle. He was wearing a comfy pair of red pj pants and a black shirt that was definitely not his.

The room was suddenly very cold, and very empty.

He shivered, grabbing a soft fluffy blanket that lay over the heavy comforter, wrapped it around his shoulders and started after the strange girl.

“Wait,” He called. “I’m comin’, hold on.”

The girl had apparently not gone very far, just a few steps down the hallway. She smiled at him as he caught up, trying to put his chin up and shoulders back. She just snorted and shook her head.

“Come on, dork,” She grinned, revealing crooked teeth. “I’ll give you a tour.”

“My name’s Dave,” He said, shrugging as best as he could with his arm bundled up against his chest. “By the way.”

“Jade.”

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: After a while of just being post apocalyptic, people just eventually have relationship drama and, you know, space pirates and the ever present threat of death. Normal young adult things, you know? Alternatively, a vague meditation on why relationships end and why obsessing over things isn't a great idea.

Author: @unda-dsk

Note from submitter: You come for the sea shanties and you stay for the shenanigans.  This fic isn't completed yet but like you gotta trust me it's still super long (if you're into that) and it's totally worth it

[holysweetnachofries]

Finally finished writing a fic after God knows how long! What I didn't expect was how my first fic on Ao3 was gonna be about Homestuck, hahaha

As for my sentiments about this fic... It's been kinda stuck around my head so I felt the need to pour it out already into a one-shot. I'm not really that much of a good writer, but I did enjoy writing this nonetheless

I wanted to highlight the tragedy of losing your first love as a teenager unexpectedly. I also wanted to highlight the complications first loves can actually leave you with as a teenager. I may or may not have tried to relate both Dave and Jade's feelings with my own, so I'll leave that into interpretation!

Not sure if I stayed loyal to the characterization of the characters in the fic... Maybe I tried too hard with Dave's characterization? Also, yeah, this fic is told from Dave's perspective as a ghost! I had fun trying to write it like some sort of diary or whatever, hahaha

Anyway, feel free to check it out and hopefully you guys like it! :>

[gothamcityneedsme]

one of my fav things in my writing is like. i really can be chill with like. any ship combo.

[ecto-therapist]

are period fics considered weird because i have QUITE A BIT in my drafts that i wanna finish and share but idk, i always thought they were cute because periods are like the worst things to go through and personally id find it comforting reading a fic where my fav character goes through one im just saying

[tentacledwizarddraws]

quick fanart of @vr1srezi’s excellent fic because this scene made me incredibly happy. thank you for your service in the field of davejadeing.

[davejadedaily]

do u happen to have any good davejade fic recs :3c if not that is ok. ik not everyone is a fic reader

um noooo im sorry :( im not really a fan fiction finatic per say and um. im also very pick when reading fan fiction and. tbh if jade isnt being written by a furry then idrc (sorry. i know that sounds mean)

[tehstripe]

also I’m using NaNoWriMo this year to Actually finish the davejade super hero fic. For real this time I promise. I don’t think it’s going to actually take 50k words to wrap things up, but I’ll find something else to work on once I hit the end of the story.

[insufferable-homestuck]

need to start demonizing karkat in davejade fics

[davejade-sometimes]

whoa writing its like christmas up in here

or something like that

anyway have the first installment of the coffee shop au

---

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 10:47.

TT: Dave.

TT: I went to Karkat’s place of work.

TT: That cafe. Suburban Coffee.

TG: yeah yeah

TG: sburban coffee

TG: theres no u for some reason

TG: karkat thinks that the manager ate it or some weird shit like that

TT: And there’s this girl.

TG: oh?

TT: She types so fast. So well. With such purpose.

TG: one might even say hotly

TT: Yes, Dave. She types hotly. I’m currently twirling my hair and swooning from her sheer typing prowess.

TG: whoa so swoon-worthy

TG: better have someone ready to catch you when you faint from her hot as fuck typing

TT: Come with me today. I'll show you how hot her typing is. And, you can provide a cushion from when I inevitably swoon by being in her presence.

TG: alright

TG: sure

TG: cant say no to an opportunity to get caffeine

TG: and bother karkat while were at it

tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 10:58.

The cafe is nestled between several other shops, and it announces itself with a bright green sign. Sburban Coffee, it declares in big, blocky lettering. The outside is painted an unassuming gray-brown to match the rest of its neighbors, and there are colourful flowers in flowerpots clustered by the door. In the window, Dave can make out the shapes of many, many people inside.

The door chimes happily as Dave and Rose walk inside. The strong, strong smell of coffee immediately hits Dave. Inside, the cafe is bustling, and every table has at least one person sitting. The walls are a pretty orange, and there’s a wall with potted plants sitting on shelves. He spots Karkat at the register, looking as depressed and mildly angry as he always does. There is a smiley-face sticker on the register, along with a frowny-face. He notes the crab pin on his apron. Karkat is not the type to accessorize; Dave wonders what is different about the pin. Rose tugs him into line, and Dave begins to scrutinize the menu. He never knows what to get from coffee shops. There’s too many fancy names and words to know, and he usually just defaults to a latte. However, this time he feels like he needs to branch out a bit, try something new and all that jazz.

DAVE: hey rose

DAVE: youre smart

DAVE: whats an americano

DAVE: is it like

DAVE: essence de la america

DAVE: does it taste like eagles and football

DAVE: and FREEDOM

DAVE: its not tea right i dont want to be unpatriotic

DAVE: gotta make ol g washy proud

ROSE: It’s an espresso drink diluted with water.

ROSE: Now shush. Look over there.

ROSE: That's the girl.

Dave subtly looks over in the direction Rose indicates. The person in question has their back to him, but he can see that they’re wearing an emerald sweater and a long skirt. They also have the Lesbian Haircut™. He can see why Rose likes them. Rose pulls him forward again as the line moves up. They are now second in line, and Dave still doesn’t know what he wants. He sticks his hands in his pockets and does the patented Cool Guy Slouch to hide his indecision and decides to look at Karkat instead. He can’t imagine a guy like Karkat working at a coffee shop, yet here he is. Green apron, gray sweater. Dave doesn’t think he’s ever seen Karkat wear anything different. He might be an escaped extra from a cartoon TV show. Dave idly wonders why he’d liked Karkat back in high school. He seems all cool and tough from the outside but he’s really just a big, pathetic nerd with an extra large side of wet-cattiness.

BARISTA: hey, i can take you guys over here!

Dave stops staring awkwardly at Karkat and instead turns his attention to things like moving. He studies the barista at their register as they walk over.

His first impression: oh, she’s cute.

Man, what was that line of thought?? He internally winces. Anyway. Lame thoughts aside, the barista is very put together, at least in comparison to Karkat. Granted, the bar is low. So low, in fact, it could be a speed bump. Her name tag cheerfully declares her name as Jade in loopy green handwriting, along with a plant sticker. Colorful pins flash at him from her apron.

ROSE: Dave.

ROSE: Are you going to order?

Dave blinks, startled out of his thoughts. He decides to go for something smooth, suave, dare he say, even cool?

DAVE: uh yeah

DAVE: hey love

DAVE: shit

DAVE: i mean

DAVE: lovely lady?

Dave begins questioning all his life choices, and contemplates throwing himself out the window. Actually, no, it’s a first floor window. That’d just be embarassing. He might catch fire instead. That’s a better option. One flaming hot Dave, coming right up. It would be better than whatever this train wreck of a conversation is.

Thankfully, the barista – Jade – is far cooler than he is, and just laughs.

JADE: hey yourself, good sir

JADE: what can i get you

DAVE: i was hoping you had a recommendation for me

JADE: uhh, well

Jade turns to look at the board behind her, ponytail swinging. Dave takes this moment to regain his composure, ignoring the look Rose is undoubtedly giving him. The eyebrows are so totally up. He can feel their skeptical vibes. He rearranges his face to that of a distant, aloof expression. What flaming dumpster fire? There is only Dave. Cool Dave. He is so calm and composed. Everybody wants to be him when they grow up. Jade turns back around.

JADE: i think the cinnamon caramel chai is pretty good!!

DAVE: alright ill take that

JADE: your drinks will be ready in a minute

Rose pays, and Dave absconds walks calmly over to an empty table and claims it, taking the seat that puts his back to the register. Totally not because of what jsut happened.. After a moment, Rose slides into the chair opposite him.

ROSE: Dave.

ROSE: What was that?

DAVE: what was what you saw nothing there was no dumpster fire

DAVE: besides youre one to talk miss she types hotly huh huh

DAVE: shut up rose put those eyebrows away or ill shave them off in your sleep

ROSE: Dave, I haven’t seen you this bad since-

DAVE: DONT EVEN SAY IT HES RIGHT THERE

Smooth, Dave. Now everyone in the cafe is looking at you, probably even Karkat. He melts into his chair. Can this get any worse? He looks over at the register, checking to see if their drinks are done. Karkat is looking in their direction, vaguely confused. The poor barista that Dave totally ruined any chances he had with her has disappeared. Maybe she ran for the hills from the total weirdo that she just met. Oh, nope, there she is, shaking a bottle of milk. He pretends to stare off into space, in a cool fashion. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he studies her again. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to before, as he’d been otherwise occupied. Jade is a fairly tall girl with long, dark hair currently up in a ponytail that swings every time she moves. She has round glasses and a pretty smile. Unlike Karkat, she is wearing a tasteful orange shirt with her apron. He notes that she and Karkat move around each other easily – which surprises Dave – and while he can’t hear their conversation, they appear to be chatting. Karkat doesn’t like most people. Dave considers himself one of the lucky few that get to be Karkat’s friend.

---

Well, that was weird, Jade thinks as she begins making the latest coffee order: a latte with four shots of espresso, with a little dark roast on top. She’s a little worried for the girl who’d just ordered it. She hopes that she isn’t responsible for her inevitable death by sheer amount of caffeine. Reaching around Karkat (who gives her a salty look that she knows holds no real bite) for the pitcher, she begins to fill it with water. Beside her, Karkat shifts, and she knows he’s about to ask her about what just happened.

KARKAT: HEY JADE, WHAT HAPPENED?

Called it. Jade has what she likes to call her “KARKAT SENSE.” She can always tell when he’s going to do something particularly weird, which to be fair is pretty much just Karkat’s natural state.

JADE: with the sunglasses dude?

JADE: poor guy i feel bad for him

JADE: he looked like he might die of embarassment

KARKAT: WHAT’D THAT IDIOT DO?

JADE: oh, do you know him?

She pours the water into the espresso machine and starts it, putting a cup underneath. While she waits, she begins to steam the milk.

KARKAT: UNFORTUNATELY, YEAH.

KARKAT: HE’S A FRIEND FROM HIGH SCHOOL.

JADE: oh nice!!

JADE: well i think he was trying to be cool or something

JADE: he tried to say [bad dave impression] hey lovely lady

JADE: but he called me love instead

JADE: it was kind of sad

KARKAT: WHAT A FUCKING LOSER. I CANT BELIEVE I WAS EVER INTO HIM.

JADE: wait, really?

JADE: i cant picture you with him

JADE: he doesnt seem like your type

KARKAT: AND HE ISN’T.

KARKAT: I WOULD NEVER DATE SOMEONE SO LAME.

Jade snorts derisively, and begins to pour the steamed milk over the four shots of espresso.

JADE: like youre that much cooler

JADE: just yesterday i watched you rant for about 20 minutes about spilling some milk on your shirt

JADE: youre just as lame!! admit it

KARKAT: OH FUCK YOU.

KARKAT: YOU ARENT COOL EITHER.

JADE: true, but at least i don’t go around pretending i am

KANAYA: Karkat Shes Right

KANAYA: You Would Be So Much Cooler If You Stopped Trying So Hard

KANAYA: Watching You Is A Little Pathetic

KARKAT: I HATE YOU ALL.

Jade just laughs and gives Karkat an affectionate whack on the back as she goes to set the now finished Latte of Death on the pick-up counter. He grumbles and steps on her toes as he moves past her to the register, serving the next undercaffeinated customer.

[charmikarma]

good lird. what have i done.

hey. i wrote this in response to yesterday's upd8. it's a drabble about candy!jade stuffing dave's corpse. a little more than 1k words. it's kinda graphic. there's implied cannibalism. it's also not beta read.

read at your own risk. peace

You summon the corpse from your sylladex and lay it out across your dining room table. The shades are gone – why, you can't be sure – but the eyelids are shut, so you can't see the eyes anyway. No matter. Dave was always cagey about his eyes; even in death, you're willing to respect that.

You head to the basement and look through the dusty old boxes. It's been decades since you did anything like this, but you know your supplies are still here somewhere. You find rifles, plushies, old gadgets – all kinds of junk you don't want to let go of, but no longer have any use for. Finally, the second-to-last box contains what you're looking for. Scalpels, needles, wood wool – all that and more. Tools and materials any amateur taxidermist should have on hand.

Below that box is one labeled simply dave in Dave's handwriting. You don't remember this being here.

You open it; it's not like he has any use for whatever's inside anymore.

Inside are a number of things you remember from his room. Records, photographs, fossils. There's even what appears to be a human fetus in a jar, which you would probably find more alarming if you weren't drowning in preserved human remains from a young age.

Rolling around the bottom of the box is a number of marbles, which gives you a brilliant idea. You fish out two of the largest ones you can find – one a red cat's eye, and the other a translucent blue-gray. If there is any symbolism to be seen in these colors, you don't notice it. You've neglected to notice symbols like these for decades.

You add the two marbles to the box with your tools. You return to the dining room and get to work.

You strip the body of its clothes. You are calm as you cut into the skin. The art of taxidermy takes a lot of care, after all, and while you are inexperienced, the training your grandpa gave you sticks in your memory like gum. You'll never forget how to do this for the rest of your eternal life. The feeling of the scalpel dividing flesh, the sound of skin peeling away from muscle, the smell of blood and something else which you have always assumed was death – it is all burned into your memory, and has been since the last time you did this. The time you stuffed your own grandpa. It was what he wanted for himself.

What you're doing right now is not what Dave would want for himself. You know that. But you also know better than your younger self – what Dave would want does not matter anymore. He is gone. But you're still here. So of course the question falls to you – what do you want to do with your husband's lifeless body?

With a squelch and a lot of arm strength, you pry the humerus free from the bicep. It's a shame Dave has no use for the muscle anymore. He always did have attractive arms. Though you could say the same for the rest of his body, too. You'll be sure to keep your rendition as faithful to the original as you can.

You set aside the bone on the kitchen counter. You wipe off the blood and write "LH" on it in black sharpie, so that you don't get it mixed up with the right humerus later. They will be helpful for posing the body when you stuff it.

You return to the carcass. Over the course of the next few hours, you strip skin from muscle, and muscle from bone. You lay each bone with the first humerus and each stretch of skin on the floor. You are careful to keep every piece organized. You are not careful to keep the house clean. Discarded flesh litters the floor. There is blood everywhere – on the table, on your hands, on your clothes. Your hair is sticky with it. The scent of it stings your nose.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, it registers that you are mutilating your dear husband without his permission. That it is Dave's blood on your hands. Somewhere deep below your diaphragm you are unsettled. But your body carries on; you're pressed for time. There's a war out there, and this is your only chance to preserve the love of your life.

You begin to reconstruct the body, and it stops feeling so impersonal. Tears blur your vision as you sew Dave's flesh back together. Why did he decide to leave? Of course you'd always feared the worst – that he never truly loved you. Why would he? But he stayed anyway, for sixteen long years. Sixteen happy years. Maybe he never loved you, but at least he would stay with you.

No longer.

Your hand begins to shake, and you nearly tear through his skin with your needle. You begin to mutter to yourself.

JADE: shh shhh its ok dave im sorry JADE: ill be more careful i promise! i wont hurt you JADE: christ jade get it together!!!

You steel yourself and fill his skull with wool. You stretch his scalp over the backside, and his face over the front. You sew the two pieces together just in front of his hairline, whispering sweet nothings to him all the way.

JADE: just a bit longer ok? JADE: youll be all nice and pretty again dont worry :)

When his head is finished, you pop the two marbles into his eye sockets.

JADE: there now you can see!!! JADE: do you like your new eyes? hehe i thought you would JADE: theyre from your own collection after all!!

You remember the hands being the most difficult part, so you've saved them for last. There is something unexpectedly intimate about reconstructing a hand you've held so many times you've memorized it. It may not be warm the way it used to be, and those stitches were never there before, but it's still Dave's hand. You have half a mind to press it to your cheek, to kiss the palm like you always used to, but you aren't that far gone. You do, however, thread your fingers between his after you finish your work. You hold his hand like that for a while.

JADE: i miss you already JADE: ......... JADE: well i guess youre not really gone JADE: youre still here, just JADE: quieter

You look around the room. Unsurprisingly, it's a mess. The blood is probably never coming out of the hardwood floor. And, of course, there's flesh everywhere. Organs, too. It's a shame, really, how much of the body is wasted in the process.

Your eyes fall to Dave's still heart. It's smaller than you expected; you were so little when you handled your grandpa's, so you guess you remembered it being bigger.

Your hand slips out of Daves as you fall to the floor. You stare at his heart, thinking. Not thinking about what to do – no, you're thinking about whether to do it. To follow the urge bubbling up from deep below your consciousness. If it were anyone else, you wouldn't hesitate to discard the thought. But it's Dave. You'll never meet anyone like him again. You don't want any part of him to go to waste.

You shouldn't. You know you shouldn't.

You reach for his heart.

[tunaababee]

20 Questions for Writers tag game!

gonna chuck this under a cut since it's gonna be lengthy!! thank you so much for the tag @popjunkie42 <3 <3 <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? eight! my one foray into DDADDS, a handful of Homestuck fics (notably Cats and Coffee, which i need to rewrite at some point!!) and 2 for acotar, though that number will be going up!!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 76,793!!

3. What fandoms do you write for? mainly acotar at the moment - i will probably dip my toes back into homestuck periodically though, it is where my roots lie!!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Strained (my one ddadds fic for a crackship) Cats and Coffee we will be everything we say Little Games Is It? (im pretty sure this was my first fic lmao)

5. Do you respond to comments? almost always, they make my day and mean so much!! if i don't reply im either busy and forgot bc my brain is like a sieve or happened to receive and influx and got overwhelmed!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? probably Breathe, which i wrote while having severely unmedicated depression and also being angry at how they shafted my fave character!!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? oh, hands DOWN wwbews. that is the fluffiest most tooth rotting ending and it was DELIBERATE!!!

8. Do you get hate on fics? im very lucky to have avoided anybody's ire, but i also love biting people on the internet sometimes and i am very liberal with my block button lol

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? i think i would die a little bit if i couldnt write smut?? i mostly write relatively sappy, breeding-kink heavy stuff haha. i want to dip my toes into stuff thats a little more taboo though!! (*cough* ascendant astarion mind control *cough*)

10. Do you write crossovers? no, personally i like keeping stuff in its own little pockets!! mad shoutout to crossover writers though <3

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? not as far as i'm aware!!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? no, but if anyone ever wanted to all they'd need to do is ask!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? nope, but i may have something in the works at some point soon 👀

14. What is your all-time favorite ship? no matter what, Karezi will always be my absolute ride or die, but Feysand is pretty fucking up there too!! i love most acotar ships, but in terms of homestuck ones, Arasol and Davejade are big faves too!!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? there's an old Homestuck wip i have deep in the folders called Glitter that i remember the vague direction of? but i know that one is not seeing the light of day, along with a barely fleshed out bandstuck au haha. im determined to make my acotar ideas/wips see the world at some point though!!

16. What are your writing strengths? mm hard to say? i'm very pessimistic/negative about me and my work by nature, so it's difficult to say with honesty, but i like to think i convey emotion and inner thoughts decently well! i also think my dialogue is relatively grounded for the most part?

17. What are your writing weaknesses? so many. i struggle with writing out of order, so when i get stuck on something i get STUCK. i have a tendency to repeat names a lot, i struggle with scene transitions and when to call a scene done. i'm also either always going way too over the top or way too underwritten, i struggle with finding a good middle! there are probably many more i could think of but i don't wanna get too in the weeds.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i haven't used other languages as far as i can recall? if i ever do i would try and get a native speaker to give it a read over, but otherwise i am afraid our old beloathed google translate would be carrying my ass.

19. First fandom you wrote for? that i published on the internet??? Homestuck. things that never saw the light of day?? shit man, i couldn't tell you. i've been thinking about cool things my blorbos could do since i was a kid.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? very biased, but wwbews. i genuinely think its some of my best work, my first ever completed longfic and i put so much time and love into it!!!

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tags, if you're feeling like it!! @reverie-tales @starfall-spirit @shardminds @damedechance @cauldronblssd @climbthemountain2020 <3

[kingofdersecest-2]

i want to ask your thoughts on which homestuck ships do you think should have been canon at the end of homestuck?

Whoo boy. I could be a smartass and say something like "Every girl gets with Dave" because Dave is the best partner for every girl, and I can prove it with science and logic. Or I could say Dersecest, cause thats my OTP. But ill take this more seriously and look to what I think could be the ships closest to canon that arent just fucked up. Let GOOOOOOOO. Ships I like DaveJade - Yep, we're starting off strong with this one. Good ole fashioned Davejade. They like each other, have good history together, have good on-screen history too. They kinda got together in HS2, but in this version theres no dog dick, they do have Yiffany, though they call her Ruby instead. They have a nice satisfying life together. Good vibes. JohnRoxy - More good vibes. Sometimes just having two people who genuinely like each other and have good chemistry is all you need in a ship. You dont need problematic or spicy ships. Neither of them are trans obviously, because as it turns out, letting someone who finds a candy bar in a cave somewhere randomly change the gender identity of a character is retarded, actually. VrisRezi - Toxic co-dependant girlfriend ships LESSSSGOOOOO. Terezi and Vriska are in such a weird fucking will they/wont they phase throughout the entire comic. They did kind of get together, at least dead versions of them, who I think just died? I dont remember. Anyway, yeah the living versions get together and make each other miserable and happy at the same time. Meerkat - HS2 sold me on this ship. I dont know why, but I like Meenah and karkat together for some reason. Ships I dont like, but canon circumstances would make them get together anyway. Rosemary - Ugh...the worst ship in homestuck. The boring spice lesbians. The ship that expects you to have read every rosemary fic on Ao3 to stand in for the ships development because theres hardly any in canon, and these motherfuckers got married. As if the canon stuff wasnt boring, the meta about these two creates the most insane discourse. Rose is bisexual, but thats often erased to make her full gay. Kanaya is.....a member of an alien race that does not even know what a lesbian is, but somehow still is one. Yeah, sure ok. Kanaya's questionable sexuality breaks the lore of her own species. Thats impressive. DirkJake - My two least favorite characters in homestuck. I hate dirk and jake, so naturally they should be together. Characters I couldnt figure out, so they are forever alone. Jane - Man, I used to like Jane. Then the writers caught Trump Derangement Syndrome and decided to turn her into him for some fucking reason. I have no sympathy for the Homestuck 2 team and they deserved every bad thing that happened to them for the travesty that was Jane's character assassination. Fuck em. Pre-HS 2 Jane was awesome and she was so goddamn cute when she blushed at Dave saying she was hot. I think DaveJane is a good ship, but he is with Jade. Idk, maybe they can share him. Is that weird? Probably! Jane is too good for Jake because he sucks. And theres no one else i like with her. So yeah.

[davekat-sucks]

Do you think Homestuck has value despite its flaws, or do you think the whole comic is a wash because it couldn't stick the landing?

Speaking as someone who didn't like basically anything after Game Over and agrees that Davekat was a dopey pairing (or at least too underexplored to be as satisfying as Rosemary or even a non-starter like JohnVris), I think you're being too hard on Homestuck. There are lots of ways it could've "made more sense" in Act 6 and beyond, lots of setups I wish it had paid off, but a comic doesn't have to be an equation. It can fuck up and fall to pieces and still be worthwhile, you know? It's okay for art to be messy.

Criticism is warranted, I'm not telling you to shut up and keep your opinions to yourself and I'm especially not going to defend all of Hussie's choices, some of which are definitely kinda nuts! But it sucks to see people turn on an artist like this just because he didn't deliver exactly what they wanted. Especially if the reason is that he went through a big transition and changed his perspective on the work.

Was the change in perspective from things like Hussie's father dying that the mood of the series turned out to be this way? Was it from bad influences from people he hired in WhatPumpkin? If it was something like this, I could almost give Andrew Hussie a bit of sympathy. Maybe more that he had the weight of the fandom on his shoulders and didn't react properly because he the attention made him nervous. Or that he took his persona of being an asshole author to far that he deluded himself thinking he is a likeable asshole. Of course, Andrew Hussie could have just given the series away or make the IP open to public. But did not choose that if it means he will lose attention on him and potential money. Whatever it may be, we won't ever know. Hussie sure as hell won't admit it out loud without his ego and pride placed out in the front. I probably wouldn't be as harsh on the series if stuff like the Homestuck Epilogues and Homestuck^2 did not existed to let people enjoy the webcomic. But if the sequels still needed to exist, then I just blame the new generation that took it too seriously as part of the next installment. It has been stated numerous times it was not canon, but now, it is still taken as part of canon from the fanbase. Even now, some of the fanart and fics will happen to be connected to those sequels in some manner because it solidify popular fanon for the modern generation, such as Davekat or Trans Roxy. I just wish WhatPumpkin comes out from the indefinite hiatus and lets out the story outline to say what was the complete plan for HS2. That or cancelling outright. Because the dubious sequels after it came out, left a horrible mark. You can't say you like DaveJade or say Roxy is not trans without people going on Davekat being a thing as well as Trans Roxy being now canon because of the non-canon sequels. It's why people are still arguing about John Egbert or June Egbert because of a damn Toblerone wish that was brought up. Some art can be messy. How one handles it varies from each individual. Just the way Andrew Hussie went about it was a clusterfuck in itself. I also don't mind if art is still messy to this day as I believe we can still like the things that it had worked well in. I mean, people still love RWBY for Monty Oum himself, the fight scenes, and the music that was in it. They don't have to like current RWBY under RoosterTeeth's control. That's how I feel it is with Homestuck now. Just that the fanbase is ever as hostile to others who disagree with certain opinions, as it is with this modern fandom under the influence of progressive activism. Either way, Hussie is a strange person that you know he is a massive prick, but still have small sympathy for. Those dark moments in his life had shaped to what Homestuck has become now and it is still being somewhat shown in the dubious materials and Psycholonials. People can still like old Homestuck and ignore the newer shit.