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crack_van2012-12-08 08:38 pm
hamimifk.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2012-12-08 08:38 pm
this will never happen by inheritor (PG)
Well after two femslash recs in a row, I thought it be good to prove I have other pairing interests that don't involve the awesome ladies of HS or sad feelz. Okay, no, just no ladies here. I love the sad feelz too much to not rec them. =) (And the ladies, but I'm trying to be fair here. xD )
Fandom: HOMESTUCK
Pairing: Dave/John
Length: 4,388
Author on LJ: n/a (that I know of)
Author Website: AO3
Why this must be read: Basically this should be called, 'Seven Moments That Will Never Happen Between Dave and John', and it's all beautiful and heartbreaking in the sweetest, most heartwrenching way. This is a good example of why I'm far more drawn to fluffy Dave/John stories than I am to smutty pieces involving them (which is sort of odd for me, but not everyone gets sprinkles every time they go out for ice cream, ya know? xD ). I really love the innocent and cute nature of their relationship, especially throughout this fic, and the way it builds up all the feelz and then gets you right in the vascular sac at the end. *hefty sigh* This fic delivers all the fluff and warm fuzzy feelings, and then doesn't. And it's absolutely too beautiful not to read. <3
Summary:
John’s hand splays out lazily against the cement. Dave’s hand, lined with scars, curls inches away, but inches were a lifetime to snails and miles to a map. They fall in love in a fragile reality, and make a romance story out of a tragedy.
Excerpt:
Here’s what never happens:
John is thirteen and Dave is young, tormented in lightning and unspoken words. They sit together on a decaying apartment building, the hot air of Texas billowing against their flushed skin. Above them, the stars twinkle in snapshots of a distant past, shining millions of years too late, dying millions of years too slow. Their distant gleam watched over the history of time, to when the forbidden fruit sat in the tree.
John’s hand splays out lazily against the cement. Dave’s hand, lined with scars, curls inches away, but inches were a lifetime to snails and miles to a map.
Dave’s heart throbs in his ears, and he watches John stare up at the stars, because the storm lashed out and poured against his shaking frame. He obediently loves the dark curls around John’s ears, the blunt nails on his fingers, his childish wonderment at the sky above them. The storm thrashes his heart, but still, he cannot move, because the words under his lips tore down buildings, crumbled dreams. His fingers shake because he does dares—
(Somewhere, in his heart, a tree burns behind him into blackened ashes and dark soot, smearing with his blood from stabbed fingers and scraped shins. But the branch is already growing and he cannot go back to the burned remnants, so he climbs, vines wrapped around his heart.)
He slips his clammy fingers to clutch at John’s hand, the inches scoured away, and the storm howling in his heart. John starts, a small movement rolling from his shoulders to his spine, but Dave pretends not to see. He watches the timeless stars above them, the faint traffic noises filling his ears with song.
John says nothing, and watches the stars. When he finally speaks, he points out a constellation and traces the stars with the tips of his fingers. Dave’s hand grows sweaty and hot until the night grows too late to make excuses to stay. John says he’d like to stargaze again.
Dave rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans, but his hand curls against his will, remembering the structure and warmth of the hand beneath him.
this will never happen
Fandom: HOMESTUCK
Pairing: Dave/John
Length: 4,388
Author on LJ: n/a (that I know of)
Author Website: AO3
Why this must be read: Basically this should be called, 'Seven Moments That Will Never Happen Between Dave and John', and it's all beautiful and heartbreaking in the sweetest, most heartwrenching way. This is a good example of why I'm far more drawn to fluffy Dave/John stories than I am to smutty pieces involving them (which is sort of odd for me, but not everyone gets sprinkles every time they go out for ice cream, ya know? xD ). I really love the innocent and cute nature of their relationship, especially throughout this fic, and the way it builds up all the feelz and then gets you right in the vascular sac at the end. *hefty sigh* This fic delivers all the fluff and warm fuzzy feelings, and then doesn't. And it's absolutely too beautiful not to read. <3
Summary:
John’s hand splays out lazily against the cement. Dave’s hand, lined with scars, curls inches away, but inches were a lifetime to snails and miles to a map. They fall in love in a fragile reality, and make a romance story out of a tragedy.
Excerpt:
Here’s what never happens:
John is thirteen and Dave is young, tormented in lightning and unspoken words. They sit together on a decaying apartment building, the hot air of Texas billowing against their flushed skin. Above them, the stars twinkle in snapshots of a distant past, shining millions of years too late, dying millions of years too slow. Their distant gleam watched over the history of time, to when the forbidden fruit sat in the tree.
John’s hand splays out lazily against the cement. Dave’s hand, lined with scars, curls inches away, but inches were a lifetime to snails and miles to a map.
Dave’s heart throbs in his ears, and he watches John stare up at the stars, because the storm lashed out and poured against his shaking frame. He obediently loves the dark curls around John’s ears, the blunt nails on his fingers, his childish wonderment at the sky above them. The storm thrashes his heart, but still, he cannot move, because the words under his lips tore down buildings, crumbled dreams. His fingers shake because he does dares—
(Somewhere, in his heart, a tree burns behind him into blackened ashes and dark soot, smearing with his blood from stabbed fingers and scraped shins. But the branch is already growing and he cannot go back to the burned remnants, so he climbs, vines wrapped around his heart.)
He slips his clammy fingers to clutch at John’s hand, the inches scoured away, and the storm howling in his heart. John starts, a small movement rolling from his shoulders to his spine, but Dave pretends not to see. He watches the timeless stars above them, the faint traffic noises filling his ears with song.
John says nothing, and watches the stars. When he finally speaks, he points out a constellation and traces the stars with the tips of his fingers. Dave’s hand grows sweaty and hot until the night grows too late to make excuses to stay. John says he’d like to stargaze again.
Dave rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans, but his hand curls against his will, remembering the structure and warmth of the hand beneath him.
this will never happen