Chapter Text
>Be the terrible gamer.
Hey, you’re not terrible! You think you’re pretty good, actually.
“John, hurry it up. We’ve got to get through this chamber fast before the skeleton freaks start spawning again. Wait, what are you doing? Don’t you fucking dare- SON OF A BITCH! Did you just kill me?!”
Okay, so maybe you’re a little terrible. “Chill out, Karkat!” You respond, jiggling your mouse around as your avatar re-spawns. “It’s not such a big deal, we didn’t reach the boss yet.”
“I’m not sure you noticed, but every time we die, we have to restart the level! Because of you, we’re back here with all the crab monsters. You’re not supposed to kill your partner in a co-op game, piss brain.”
You laugh and glance over at Karkat, glad you installed the camera to your computer that would allow your audience to see your faces as you play. He makes the greatest expression when he was frustrated like this, one that was totally lost when your videos just had a voice over.
“Yeah, but the main thing is that we’re having fun, right?”
He gives you a death glare so potent that you thought he might be trying to set you on fire with his mind. “The main thing is to make progress, which is something we’ll never do if you don’t stop fucking around.”
“Fine, Crabby, if you wanna be a downer.”
He grits his teeth but doesn’t respond. You’ve had this argument many times before, both on and off camera, and you’re guessing that he’s going to save it until the video’s over to yell at you about it. “Oh, look at that, our time is up for today. See you guys next time on John and Karkat Play Hivebent.”
You get one last, “bye, see ya next time” in before Karkat turns off the video and audio recording.
“We’ve been playing this game for sixty episodes, I think the viewers are getting tired of it. We need to speed it up, and you killing me every time I turn around isn’t helping.”
“We’ll be done soon, we just have a couple more levels to go.” You stand up, stretching your arms above your head. It’s Karkat’s turn to edit and upload, so now you get some time to relax. Karkat doesn’t say anything, instead just shifting in his rickety old computer chair and opening up your Youtube page. You lean over his shoulder to look at your subscriber count. “Shit, we’re still sitting at 250. That sucks.”
“Yes, it does. And tomorrow, we’re taking the sixteen hour drive to LA to attend a Youtube convention where all the greatest will be. I can imagine it now; one of the great gamers will approach us. They’ll say, ‘oh. You’re gamers too! I’ve never heard of you, how many subscribers do you have? I only have 50 000.’ And I’ll have to respond with, ‘two hundred and fucking fifty.’ Shitting myself so hard that I drown in my own waste is a better fate than that kind of embarrassment.”
“That won’t happen! Look, there will be tons of people that are new to the biz. It’s not like we’ll stick out.”
“We’ve been making these videos for over a year. Not exactly new to the biz.”
“Shush! Those are just details. Point is, everyone will be really nice. Nobody will make fun of us for only have 250 subscribers.”
“Fine, but if you’re wrong about that, I will literally pull off your dick and sacrifice it to the asshole gods.”
“Literally?”
“Literally.”
The conversation ends there as you leave him with the video, grabbing a Pepsi from the fridge before heading to your room. You and Karkat shared a small apartment, with a dingy living room separated from the kitchen by a crumbling divider, two small cockroach infested rooms, and a single cramped bathroom. Even with the crappy living conditions, the apartment would be a struggle for you to pay for on your own. Though you had moved out a year ago, you still work at your dad’s old magic shop. Karkat himself works at Wal-Mart, and spends half the day helping customers and the other half complaining about them. You both juggle these jobs with school, you still working on your biology degree and him still taking his computer courses despite the fact that in the first week of college, he had already decided he hated everything that could possibly be even remotely related to programming. But of course, it’s just early July now, and you won’t have to worry about school again until September, which suits you just fine.
And then there’s your Youtube channel. It has been your’s and Karkat’s dream since before you even made your channel to be able to quit your jobs and make videos full time. But it was even harder to gain popularity than you expected; even with your fairly high quality equipment and your regular uploading schedule, your subscriber growth had slowed to a crawl. This didn’t stop you from persuading Karkat into attending the Youtube convention with you, though. In fact, your low subscriber count was the main justification for going in the first place. The plan was simple; find someone popular, make a video with them, get the attention of their subscribers, profit.
This didn’t stop you from worrying, though. Karkat had been right about one thing, everyone there would be popular, and everyone there would already know of each other. You two would be the outcasts. But what better way to get their attention than to be different? Yeah, they might want to know your subscriber count. So? They’re probably gonna be all encouraging about it! Right?
Whatever. It’s already 8:30 PM, and you’ll need to be out by 1:00 AM if you want to be at your hotel at a reasonable hour. You should go to sleep now.
>Skip to a more interesting time.
“Karkat, hurry up!” You shout from the door way, keeping your voice quiet enough so that you won’t wake your neighbours but loud enough that Karkat will be able to hear how frustrated you are from his room. It’s currently 2:03 AM and you still haven’t left your apartment yet.
“Shut up, I’m coming!” Karkat appears out of his room heaving so many bags that he looks like a pack mule. He’s got a backpack, three bags hanging off his arms and a wheeled suitcase that he dragged behind himself.
“What’s with all the stuff? We’re only going to be there for a week!” All you’ve got is a backpack and a suitcase.
“I actually have important things, John. Belongings. Hobbies.”
“So do I, but I don’t have to tote my stuff everywhere I go. Like, what’s in there?” You poke one of the bags flung around his shoulder. “A comfort blanket?”
“No, but what if it was? Would there be a problem with that?”
“Oh, dude. It’s totally a comfort blanket.”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
“Is n- never mind, lets just go. We wanna get there on time.”
“Oh, yeah! But I’m not letting this go, though. I’ll totally get you to admit that you carry a comfort blanket like a poopy baby.”
“Nope.”
After some arguing outside the apartment on the way to the car, you finally get Karkat to let you drive first. It was an accepted fact in your relationship that you were the better driver- but that didn’t mean that Karkat would give up his control-freak ways to let you do the driving. This time, he had given an unusually small amount of resistance, and it wasn’t until he got in the back seat that you realized why. Before you even started the car, he was asleep, slumped over against his neck pillow. Of course, you expected that. It was doubtful that Karkat slept last night with the video editing and the stress of the trip, but knowing him, he hadn’t slept for days. Karkat’s full sleep sessions were few and far between, and he often chose to crash for half an hour on the couch rather than “waste eight hours of my precious fucking time.” However, Karkat’s time asleep was considered vital to the continued functioning of the little household. After all, Karkat got even grouchier the longer he went without sleep, and the apartment could get absolutely hellish if you picked a fight with him when he was in a particularly impatient mood. And so, when Karkat slept, there was no bothering him. You drove in silence (well… almost silence. The old 1975 Ford Granada you drive isn’t exactly the quietest beauty around.)until he woke up three hours later, complaining that he needed to pee.
After eight hours of driving, you have to concede and let Karkat take the wheel, who proceeds to drive slowly and yell whenever he thinks that he’s been wronged even slightly by another driver. You watch downloaded movies on your tablet and eat an ungodly amount of Cheetos.
It doesn’t feel like sixteen hours when you finally arrive in Los Angeles, passing through busy streets and looking at the palm trees that line the sidewalks. You pass the convention center and arrive at your hotel, where Karkat parks the car in the closest open space to the front doors.
“Woah, luxurious!” You say as the two of you enter the lobby, still overloaded with baggage. The lobby is modern and clean looking, with white leather couches and chandeliers that cast a pale but not unpleasant glow. You flop down in one of the seats as Karkat checks in, admiring your surroundings, when you notice a guy about your age exit the elevators. He’s got pale blond hair, a red plaid button down… and a camera in his hand.
You recognize him instantly. He’s Dave Strider, King of Irony and vlogger extraordinarie. He’s talking to the camera, though you can’t make out what he’s saying. He leaves out the front doors without taking glance around him, and you realize that this is where many other youtubers will be staying as well, as it’s the closest hotel to the convention center. Score!
“Alright, jackass, I got our keys.” Karkat says before passing you a room key. “Let’s go.”
“This is going to be a really cool week, you know that?” You say to him as you stand up.
“Yeah, I know. We’re going to have the time of our lives and all that dumb shit. Now come on, I’m starving.”
You can’t help but grin as you follow him to the elevator. This was going to be the week where your dreams come true.
You can feel it.