genuinely it is SO funny to me that they chose to imply that qui gon (a) parentifies obi wan and (b) likes it that way

i’d LOVE to hear more about your borrower au!

Oh, okay then! Thanks for the interest! :D (Putting it under a cut because it ended up being WAY longer than I thought...)

There isn’t a whole lot to it. I just have a very basic idea of what could happen. Partly because I’ve only played through the beginning of Half-Life one (I attempted to stream it, but my internet connection isn’t strong enough). Everything I know about the series comes from cultural osmosis.  When I finally play the games all the way through I’ll have a better idea of things that could happen in the AU. For now what I have is... Barney is a third or fourth generation Borrower who lives inside of Black Mesa.  A long time ago some Borrowers were kidnapped and experimented on by the company, but some escaped and managed to hide long enough to start families and such.  Barney has never seen anything outside of the facility. As far as he knows, the whole world is concrete and steel and hiding from giant creatures that WILL cut you up or torture you if you are caught.  As far as most of the humans in Black Mesa know, Borrowers are just this funny little story people tell to freak out the new guys. “Yeah there’s totally tiny rat people running around in the vents. It’s true! My friend Dave’s friend Tom saw one once! Some kind of messed up experiment that got loose.” New guys tend not to believe it. People who have been around long enough to know what kind of shady stuff Black Mesa is into are a bit less skeptical. Very few people have ever actually SEEN one though. These Borrowers are next level paranoid. (Totally justified) Barney is living on his own. It’s safer to live alone or in very small groups. Less chance of taking other Borrowers down with you if you are caught.  He’s claimed a few offices as his territory and scavenges for scraps in them. Mostly I think he eats those gross cockroaches that are always running around (safer to hunt than to steal) but when he needs something non food related, the offices are where he goes.  Gordon is fairly new to the company. He recently graduated from MIT, and is currently working on a big project (you know the one).  He’s temporarily staying in the level three dormitories just so he can basically run off to have a shower and a snooze before getting right back to work every day. Once the project is over, he’ll return to commuting from home. He’s heard the stories about Borrowers, but Dr. Kleiner assures him it’s just a prank people like to pull, so Gordon puts it out of his mind pretty immediately.  One day Barney sneaks into one of the offices to snag some rubber bands (INVALUABLE stuff). This scientist seems to work very long hours, but he’s pretty sure they’ve left for the night. While he’s climbing up his rope to get back into the vent, he gets spooked by the sound of a giant human opening the door.  Barney has never in his life been seen by a scientist, and in his panic, accidentally slips and gets his leg tangled in his own rope. He’s trapped right out in the open at the mercy of some mad scientist! Gordon isn’t a mad scientist, but he sure is a surprised one when he returns to his office with a fresh coffee in hand and finds a tiny man on his desk.  Is he seeing this because he’s been working to hard? Had to much coffee? Hasn’t seen the sun in weeks? But no mater how long he stands in the doorway blinking stupidly, the tiny man is still there.  Barney feels like he’s going to drop dead at any moment, but he tries his best to at least LOOK calm in the face of death.  He gingerly lifts a hand a waves. “Uh, h-hey Doc.” He says with a wobbly smile. “Uh... Hi... tiny... man on my desk?” (Yeah Gordon talks in my AU) Gordon approaches, still in shock, and when Barney flinches back violently, he flinches too. Gordon gently untangles Barney from the rope and introduces himself. With no immediate means of egress, Barney feels like the only thing he can do is chat with the giant, trying to keep things light and friendly. No need to get the scalpels and the cages.    Gordon is of course curious as heck, and whatever he was supposed to be working on is completely shoved to the side in favor of talking with Barney all night.  Much to both of their surprise (Barney’s more than Gordon’s) they actually end up really enjoying each others company. They share a granola bar from Gordon’s desk (one of the best things Barney has every eaten) and a bit of coffee (Not good at all, but not the worst thing he’s been forced to drink). Over time, Barney finds himself coming back to visit the weird human whenever he’s alone in the office.  Gordon is very concerned about Barney’s diet. He eats cockroaches and scraps from the garbage? When was the last time this man had a vegetable? (Barney: What the hell’s a vegetable? What’s a fruit? Are you swearing at me?)  These discussions leads to other troubling revelations. Barney is in constant danger. He’s never been outside of the facility. He doesn’t even know there IS an outside! Gordon’s heart is thoroughly broken on the borrowers behalf, and he offers to take Barney with him when he goes home at the end of the month. Barney doesn’t exactly understand, because he thought humans just lived in the dorms. But the more Gordon talks about the outside, the more Barney is captivated by the idea.  It is absolutely 100% insane, but... But maybe he could live in a house with Gordon? Not have to worry about hiding. Not have to worry about starving. Get some of that fresh air he’s been hearing about.  It takes a little while, but eventually Barney caves, and the two start excitedly planning for the big move.  First Gordon has to finish his project, and Barney has to pack up everything he owns (which isn’t too much, but still a job).  On the day of the big test, Barney is waiting in Gordon’s office, filled with anxiety and excitement.  He waits... And waits... And waits... The lights flicker. Is something wrong with the power? Is... was that a scream he just heard out in the hall? Was that a gunshot?! What’s happening out there? Is Gordon okay? Barney decides maybe it would be safer if he waited for Gordon back in the vent. But just as he’s about to climb in, he hears something huge scuttling through the metal tunnel.  Suddenly a... THING bursts out of the vent and lands clumsily on the desk in front of him, scattering giant pieces of paper filled with Gordon’s writing, and shattering the desk lamp.  He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s staring at a headcrab that has been following his scent all through the ventilation system. (Do headcrabs have noses? I don’t know. But it tracked him somehow)  Barney runs and the creature goes crashing after him. Barney is forced to dive for the floor (not a deadly fall for a borrower, considering their incredibly light bodyweight. But still scary!) He’s backed into a corner while this unnatural thing closes in on him. He’s going to die. He’s going to die and he’ll never see Gordon again and they’ll never escape this place and- A figure bursts through the door, covered head to toe in some kind of armor. It races forward, crowbar in hand, and swings at the creature, smacking it away from the cowering borrower. The figure slam it’s weapon into it again and again, long after it’s stopped moving. All that is left is a pile of twisted flesh and yellow viscera.     The towering figure then turns to Barney, and his heart is suddenly trying to claw it’s way up his throat.  He stands to run, but it’s too late. Swiftly, roughly, a giant gloved hand reaches down and snatches the Borrower up. The glove is covered in alien gore, but that is the least of his worries. He can’t tell who the human is behind the heavy helmet, and even if he could, he can barely breath for fear, let alone speak.  The figure examines him, then walks over to the desk and sets him down carefully.  The figure falls heavily into the seat, and with arms that suddenly look too heavy for it, lifts the helmet off its head.  There in front of the borrower sits Gordon Freeman. Pail, sweaty, shaking, and so, so relieved that Barney is alive. He’s seen a lot of people die today, and was nearly sick with the idea that Barney might be among them.  Their plan has been complicated. Leaving Black Mesa isn’t going to be as easy as just hiding in Gordons pocket and walking out the door. Now they are going to have to fight their way out.  In game mechanics don’t translate very well to real life, and I don’t think the HEV suit actually has pockets and holsters that let you carry tons of weapons and stuff. I think they settle on having Barney ride along with him inside the helmet. It’s not super safe (and I imagine it would be pretty gross what with the sweat and everything) but it’s the best option they have.  That’s all the story I’ve got. I’m not sure how it ends, or if/how we get to HL2 from this, but still. Maybe at the end they just get to go home and live a peaceful life together away from Black Mesa. That would be nice. =p   So, uh... Yeah! That’s the idea so far. ^__^;;   

ravey with 19 i would actually die

Hello, yes, here’s some fluff and pining.

Prompt: “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me” that became a slight friends to enemies to friends to lovers.Era: Modern AU

Word count: 3,287

Warnings: just a bit of swearing

Other things: nonbinary Albert (they/them), side Kid Blink/Mush, Elmer/Jojo, Albert/Finch, Jack/his feelings

Race had never been in love. He’d had relationships, had thought it was love - in the end, it was all physical, or just a fleeting attraction. Nothing like the TV tried to sell, or scientific journals tried to explain.

Breathlessness.

Racing heart.

Sweaty palms, butterflies in your stomach.

He’d never felt desperate to be with someone, nor felt such fervent desire that it was near unbearable.

There was even scientific proof that if you’re in love you don’t feel physical pain as severely.

He was shaken from his reverie by two hands slamming down onto the coffee table where he had all of his books - that he was definitely reading - spread about. Maybe shaken wasn’t the best word actually -

“Fucking hell, Al, I nearly just shit myself,” Race’s heart was beating a mile a minute - wasn’t that a sign of love?

“Charming.”

Race felt his shoulders clench at Davey saying a simple weird. Like always, he resorted to being mean. “Well, if you don’t like how I talk to my friends, you can just leave.”

Race saw a flash of something in Davey’s eyes that made him almost regret how harsh his words were. Almost. Davey had just walked through the door, and he was already being cruel to him. He’d just told him to leave his own goddamn apartment, which - even for Race - was a bit much.

He had no idea why it all started, but it was an accepted truth - Davey and Race did not get along. They’d grown up together, had been best friends, until junior year of high school, when Davey had started to pull away. Eventually growing apart had turned to this, something just shy of hatred.

“Jacobs,” Race said flatly.

“Higgins,” Davey responded just as flatly. “Tidy up when you’re done pretending to study. It’s movie night and we’re hosting.”

With that he headed towards the kitchen.

Albert sighed. “Racer, why you gotta be so cruel to him?”

“What?! He was cruel first!”

“He literally just made a comment about how you shitting yourself was gross, and you told him to leave his own apartment,” they sighed again. “If I had made the comment, would you have yelled at me?”

Race turned back to his books and ignored the look Albert was giving him.

~

“Have you tidied your mess?”

“If you would use your eyes, you can see that I have,” Race snapped back. “What’s the point of wearing glasses if you don’t use your eyes?”

“I was just asking, Higgins. You don’t need to be rude.”

“I don’t need to be rude? I can’t go five minutes without you judging me.”

Davey did what he always did and stalked into his room, slamming the door. Point Race.

The rest of their friends arrived an hour later; Jack was either carrying an action film, or a sad pretentious one, depending on if he had broken up with his newest fling.

“Pizza rolls?” Elmer yelled towards the kitchen.

“You will have nothing until you remove your shoes, Elmer. And you don’t have to yell.”

“Alrighty, mother dearest.” Davey rolled his eyes with a smile.

“So, Jacky,” Davey said as he placed a tray of pizza rolls on the coffee. “I see that the film you brought is in black and white. What was her name again?”

Race couldn’t help it - he burst out laughing. Davey turned to him with surprise and a small smile.

He felt himself flush - due to the heat of having so many bodies in a small space, he was sure.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” he said quickly. “Feel free to start without me.”

~

“So,” Elmer said, drawing out the word. Race didn’t realize he had been followed and jumped. “You know how it’s my birthday next week? And that you still don’t know what to get me?”

Race looked towards the ground. “What are you trying to get me to do, Elmer?”

“Be nicer to Davey.”

He looked up so suddenly he nearly broke his neck. Elmer’s patented puppy dog eyes were lethal.

“Now why would I do that?”

“Because I know you don’t like fighting any more than he does. Because if you were friends we wouldn’t have to separate you during film nights. Because you know you’ve been bottling up the pain that is actually causing this,” Elmer replied. His grin was huge because he knew he had won.

Race nodded after a moment, to which Elmer gave him quick a hug and walked back. “Don’t want to miss the break up film. Or the pizza rolls.”

When Elmer had gone after his flying visit, he sighed to himself. It was small, a throwaway grin. It didn’t make up for the years of antagonistic behavior from both of them.

He walked a few minutes and sat on a bench farther from the apartment block and thought back to the mean things he’d said to Davey Jacobs over the last three years.

He could admit it; he had been a bully. He’d belittled him, made fun of his interests, started fights over the smallest things. But now, after Elmer’s comment, he saw a different side to their interactions, saw it from a different view. From a different emotional perspective.

That the animosity was to cover the ache of heartbreak. The loathing was a poor bandage for the ache of losing the most important part of him.

He wasn’t stupid. Losing his best friend with no explanation, explanations he so easily could have asked for, had slowly broken his heart. Every time Davey would be laughing near his locker with some Tom, Dick, or Stanley, but could only spare a nod in his direction. It hadn’t happened suddenly, he hadn’t woken up one day to a note in his locker that said they were done. Race should have been able to move on; Davey wasn’t the only friend he had lost in his life, but he was Davey.

As children, they were David and Anthony, giggling at recess together. David and Anthony building pillow forts, names near one entity.

Middle school came, and they were David and Anthony, sitting in the back of the class most definitely paying attention. David and Anthony, passing notes back and forth.

Then high school came, and suddenly they were Davey and Race, walking to school together. Davey and Race, tossing carrots at each other during lunch. Davey and Race, tutoring each other in subjects they didn’t understand.

Then junior year came, and they were Davey and Race, nodding to each other in the hallway. Davey and Race, not even sitting at the same lunch table.

Then senior year came, and they were Jacobs and Higgins. Jacobs and Higgins sneering at each other instead of nodding. Jacobs and Higgins, crossing the street instead of having to walk next to each other. Jacobs and Higgins, writing angry notes to each other instead of jokes about their substitute.

Davey and Race were gone, David and Anthony even more so.

Davey wasn’t the only friend he had lost in his life, but he was Davey. He had so many of Race’s firsts: the first person he came out to, the first person he got drunk with, his first kiss. The person that comforted him when he got his heart broken, the person that bandaged his knuckles when he got into fights.

Everything. He was everything.

The surprise in the grin Davey had sent him was burned into his mind. Could it be so simple? Could he heal their friendship by just…being nicer? Or would Davey think he was making fun of him, being cruel by being kind?

He supposed they should have that conversation they’d been avoiding, then.

~

He waited until everyone was gone before trying to talk to Davey.

“Hey, uh,” he coughed to clear his suddenly dry throat. “Can we talk?”

“I’m in the middle of cleaning up, can it wait?”

Race was about to nod and say it could, but he set his shoulders. He could do this.

“No, Davey, it can’t wait.” The use of his first name seemed to get Davey’s attention; it’d been over a year since he’d last used it, after all. There was something askance to awe in Davey’s eyes for a moment, before he shook his head.

“I’m listening, then.” He sat on the sofa and spread his arms.

Race took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“You broke my heart,” and that definitely wasn’t were he wanted to start this conversation. “I mean no, I mean, you did, but that’s not what I’m trying to say! Please don’t go!”

Davey paused in getting up when he heard the break in Race’s voice on the word ‘please’; he sat back down.

“I wanted to say I was sorry,” Race said. “For how I’ve treated you, for everything I’ve said. I’ve been unnecessarily mean, when I know I was just hurt.”

Davey tilted his head. “Hurt?”

Race began to explain, sitting next to him on the couch. He couldn’t help but notice this was the closest they’d sat for years. The words seemed to spill out, some in the right order and some not. Davey looked on the brink of running the entire time he was speaking.

“I just,” he finished. “I just miss you.”

“You -,” Davey whispered. “You miss me?”

He nodded. “I don’t know why we stopped being friends, but I’d like to start over.”

Davey paused. “I don’t think we can start over, there’s too much history.”

Race felt his heart drop. Of course Davey wouldn’t want to start over. He’d spent the last three years being cruel to him, he didn’t deserve -

“But maybe we can redo some things.” The 360 of emotions made Race dizzy. “I miss you too, Race.”

Race.

Race.

One simple word, four letters, but it took the breath from his lungs.

Race.

“I’d really like that.” He spat into his hand and suck it out for a handshake. Davey looked disgusted, which was something so familiar it ached.

“Really? We’re adults, Race.”

“It seals the deal, Dave. Playground politics.”

Davey rolled his eyes but spit into his hand and grasped Race’s. They stood there smiling stupidly at each other, hands clasped, until Dave swore and dragged Race into a hug.

Race had sworn he wouldn’t cry, but breathing in Davey’s familiar scent nearly broke him. They pulled apart, and he ignored Davey wiping tears from his eyes as Davey ignored him doing the same.

~

There was a shocked silence at Jacobi’s deli when Davey and Race walked in together. They were laughing over some asinine joke Race had made about Jojo and Elmer; good to know Davey will still laugh at his extremely unfunny jokes.

“Someone pinch me,” Albert yelled. “I think they’re…getting along? Are they laughing? Together?

Finch pinched them. They swore loudly, to which Finch just shrugged. “You told me to pinch you, babe. This relationship is based on trust, and you trusted me to pinch you. A Finch pinch.”

Elmer met Race’s eye and nod with the sweetest of grins (he couldn’t wait to make fun of Jojo for spilling a bit of the water he was setting in front of Elmer when he saw his grin).

Davey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Would anyone like something extremely cheap off the menu?”

~

The next few months were full of Jacobs and Higgins becoming Davey and Race again. He was learning so many things about Davey that he’d missed, nuances that were similar but at the same time different. Davey wasn’t the boy he had known his whole life, but he wasn’t a stranger. It also helped they’d been living together all year.

“Tell me what’s going on with your family, then,” Race asked one day as Davey was making him peel potatoes. They’d started to cook together, something he secretly adored.

“Well, Les just started high school and Sarah just went of to college. University of Chicago.”

“You Jacobs sure are smart,” Race said, amazed. He whistled. “University of Chicago…and hell knows where you’ll go in two years, what fancy med school you choose.”

Davey blushed and asked Race about his own family. He let Davey get away with the very obvious change of topic. Glad to know he still hated talking about his intellect, though Race knew a lot of that was leftover anxiety caused by bullies in middle school; Davey the know-it-all Jacobs. Race felt his stomach clench as he remembered that he, too, had turned into that bully.

Still, they didn’t bring up the topic of why and how their friendship had ended.

~

“Where’s Davey, then?” Race sighed as he came in. He’d had a terrible few classes today, and he didn’t need this. “Please tell me he just left and that you haven’t made a copy of our key.”

“He has a date. We were just helping him get ready,” Blink said with a shit eating grin, though Race noticed he didn’t deny that he had made a copy of their key. In fact, there could possibly be a dozen copies, knowing his friends. “I think he’ll be home quite late, too.”

“Or maybe quite early,” Mush responded with a shit eating grin of his own. He flicked Blink on the eye and gestured towards the door.

Race listened to Blink call Mush an ableist piece of shit with a grin. Mush just shoved him and muttered something about a Nick Fury cosplay. Race didn’t fail to notice he grabbed Blink’s right hand, always making sure to be on his right side.

Race looked back to the book he had just pulled out for that stupid philosophy class he had to take. (He was majoring in mathematics why the hell did he need a philosophy class?) He put it back in his bag, knowing he wouldn’t be taking in a word of it.

A date. Race wondered for a moment about why that simple word felt like a knife to his -

Oh. 

Oh, Race.

He groaned into the silence of the empty apartment. Three months prior Race had looked back at their interactions and arguments through the lens of grief. Maybe it was time to analyze their interactions and arguments through even another keyhole.

There was still heartbreak, yes. But at the time, Race had only thought he was heartbroken because he’d lost his best friend. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

It probably wasn’t a normal thing to feel like half of your soul had been ripped away when your best friend stopped talking to you. It probably wasn’t a normal thing to still feel that way three years later.

The thought terrified him. He’d never been in love before, and the idea that he could be now scared the fuck out of him.

Breathlessness.

He had been breathless when he’d first hugged Davey after over three years. At the time he hadn’t thought anything of it, was too busy being happy that Davey had listened to him, had missed him as well. But looking back, that’s how Race had reacted to physical contact with Davey for years.

He’d blamed it all on his asthma, just a side affect of holding his breath every time they hugged, every time their hands brushed.

Oh, God. Who held their breath every time they hugged their best friend? Who purposefully brushed knuckles together, threw an arm around him every chance he got?

You’re an idiot, Anthony.

Racing heart.

Every time Davey made him laugh.

How much of his heart did he blame on his asthma? Of course every time you laugh you get breathless, your heart races. Purposefully ignoring the fact that no other friend caused such a reaction.

Sweaty palms.

“Ugh, Race, why are your hands so sweaty?” Albert had wiped their arms on their jeans, disgusted from simply having Race’s hands around their wrists.

“If you don’t like it then don’t try and steal my pretzels, asshole!”

Davey had had an arm tossed around the back of the sofa at the time, not even sitting next to Race but near enough that his fingers were brushing against his shoulder every time one of them moved.

Butterflies in your stomach.

The amount of times Davey had been smushed against his side during movie night, because they had too many fucking friends. Race had blamed it on the movie they were watching, nervousness because he hated horror films.

Desperation.

It’s not normal to want to be around a friend as much as Race wanted to be around Davey, was it? They were on their way back to best friends, but the stupid things he did to get Davey’s attention were so embarrassing he didn’t even want to think about it.

Desire.

It wasn’t just two bros psyching each other up, was it? When Davey were those jeans or that shirt or the few times he’s had to dress up to go to meetings, he wasn’t just telling a friend they looked nice, was he?

He’d never been in love; or had he always been love?

You’re a fucking idiot, Anthony Higgins.

~

Davey came home earlier than Race was expecting, looking dejected (he definitely wasn’t beaming inside that the date probably went poorly, nor was he checking Davey out)(not to say that he didn’t look good, because his shirt was tight around the biceps and made his eyes stand out and he was wearing those jeans).

Jesus H Christ, Higgins, how the hell did you not realize you were head over heels for this man?

“You okay, Race?” Davey looked worried now, seeing Race sitting in the dark because he hadn’t bothered to get up to turn the lights on during his crisis.

“Why did you stop being my friend?”  Race was suddenly desperate to know.

Davey flushed, and cleared his throat. “Must we do this now?”

“If not now, when, Davey?” Race had to know. If Davey had noticed how Race had felt about him, before Race even, and felt uncomfortable…if he had made Davey leave him because he couldn’t stop himself from loving this incredible, beautiful boy, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

“I,” Davey’s hands were shaking now. “I don’t want to make things weird.”

“Davey, I won’t judge you for anything you so,” Race assured him. “This won’t change anything. I’m sorry if I did anything that would - or if my feelings -”

“I didn’t want you to get uncomfortable,” he interjected. “I was - feeling things, about you, and - I just. Didn’t want you to hate me.”

Race was speechless. He’d been about to apologize for having feelings for Davey, yet Davey was apologizing for having feelings for him. Had he been so oblivious? Davey had liked him as well. And now it was too late, and he felt his heart break for the second time because of David Jacobs.

But Davey wasn’t done. They didn’t call him the Walking Mouth for nothing. “And I thought I could just ignore them, stop talking to you for a few weeks until it went away, but then weeks turned into months, turned into years - and it never really went away.”

Race had barely let Davey finish before he was near tackling him onto their sofa.

“I was terrified because I’ve never been in love, and I’ve fallen in love with you, but apparently I’ve always been in love, because I’ve loved you since before I knew what love was -”

Anthony “Racetrack” Higgins loved to talk; in fact, he did it too much. Half of the time it didn’t make any sense, and the other half it was too crass to repeat. Sometimes both.

David “Davey” Jacobs finally found a way to shut him up.

Homestuck Epilogues - Meat - Page 19 (Epilogue 4 Page 2)

When Roses Collide

((Meeting yourself can be a strange experience.

@analyticseer

Rose

So.... A pink humanoid cat has been brought in. Also with very interesting circumstances if you may add. Karkat had liked this new person but then again you need to see this person yourself. You have your comfy clothes and phone with you hidden in a pocket, just in case something happens. After all you can never know what might happen and if this is somekind of trick to cause chaos from inside the Hideout, you need to let others know. Walking casually and without actually hiding your faint steps, you arrive and knock before opening the door, letting this person know that you are coming in and hoping Karkat was right and there isn't any trickery going on.

Jazz

You had been napping a little having needed a break from the books Karkat had given you. The knock wakes you immediately and you give the new comer a sleepy cat face.  Looking at her is like... looking in a mirror, or at least it feels that way. A strange sensation runs down your spine as you gaze at her. For once you are wordless, partly because you are not quite sure you're not dreaming. It wouldn't be the first time you've had a dream like this since leaving your original universe.

Rose

Same could be said when Rose had got in room and her attempt to close door behind her is half completed. She just stares this person openly with confusion because... This Jazz... Has too many details that remind you at yourself. Suddenly you remember the message you got from some horrorterror at tumblr. Did they mean this person? "... From another timeline...?" you ask a little confused and you just needed to ask it right away.

Jazz

Ah, so straight to the point. And she's actually talking so most likely, not a dream... Unless you're both dreaming? A possibility. "An alternative universe which isn't exactly like an alternate timeline," you say, your cat-ish smile finding its way to your lips.

Rose

Oh... She also sounded quite similar like you do expect she maybe has some kind of... Cat-accent while talking? Is that a thing...? ... Yes, it's an actual thing, you decide. "....Right, Alternative universe then," you say and finally close the door. You now wonder if this is how Dave felt or feels when ever he meets new version of himself. The sensation of this is... Weird but somehow interesting at the same time.

Jazz

"Rose Lalonde the, yes?" you purr. It's been a long time since you've said that name. The last time was when you still used it. "I am Jasmine, mostly called Jazz~" It's very odd to see who you could have been or rather who you are here. Though she is you, she is also not you. The pair of you likely share much and little at the same time.

Rose

You aren't actually surprised when Jazz says your name. She is at least... Some sort of version of yourself so it was kind of your expectation that she already knows your name. Thank of the horrors though she uses different name. This way confusions should be close to zero. "Correct. I heard we have a... Guest whom name is Jazz. Karkat seemed to like you so I wanted to come and see you. I had not heard that you were..." you try to finish but end up gesturing Jazz and yourself because you still try to process that she is and is not you and has cat ears, is pink and.... What else???

Jazz

You see her eyeing you and you wave your twin tails and tentacle whiskers in a sort of playful way. You wonder if she's as interested in the outer gods as you were before being partially melded with them by your father. "That I was so cute?" you giggle mirthfully.

Rose

Did you- no, you mean did SHE actually say that? You wouldn't say that in this situation, so you did not expect that. But now when she mentioned it, she does look cute. You slowly start smiling a little and chuckle. "That wasn't really what I was trying to sat but you do look cute. Especially your hair looks very soft," you admit and wonder if it's softer than your own, which it might be since she is... Part of cat and... Are those whiskers really tentacles? ... Yup, seems to be like that. Cool.

Jazz

"Oh my hair is so very soft~ Karkat can attest to it as he petted me. Meow" you say, wiggling into a sitting position. "You can pet me too if you'd like~" "So~ Do we play a game of questions or do we just proceed accepting one another as unique individuals?"

Rose

"I'm more than curious to play game of questions with you, also with your permission" you say and come closer so you can put your hand on her hair and wow... It's even softer than you imagined so you start petting Jazz with slow and gentle moves, enjoying this experience.

Jazz

You purr quite loudly at her pets. Not quite as good as Karkat but still very good. "Mmm~ Very well, game of questions it is. We go back and forth asking questions and if either of us doesn't want to answer one then the other can make them do a tiny dare? Nothing that would get either of us in trouble of course~"

Rose

"Hmm... That is quite fair suggestion since I might also not be allowed to answer some things you ask, which I'm sure you already figured out," you say. You give it a thought for a moment, thinking the up's and down's of accepting this request. "If we have dare's the same rule must be applied so we have a chance to refuse. In the end, you have upper hand with dare's since I'm free and your actions are quite... Limited."

Jazz

"Hmm.... Fair~ Very well. Terms are accepted. Meow," you mew delightedly. You grin, and gesture to her, "After you~"

Rose

"Very well. First question. Are you actually horrorterror messing up with us?" you ask playfully with smile and scratch now Jazz's behind the ear, trying if she also has the spot some cats have.

Jazz

You giggle a little and look up at her, "Promise not to tell anyone what I'm about to say, under the condition of course that I remain a none danger to you and those you love and work with?"

Rose

You take your hand from Jazz hair and put it on your chest and raise the other one, looking like someone that is about to give a promise though Rose kind of does this a little more theatrically. "For the duty of secrecy I promise I will not tell anyone what you are about to share," you say and then lower your hands on your sides and sit down where ever you can safely sit down.

Jazz

"I, while not a horrorterror, do contain horrorterrors inside me. Given it is you I am talking to, I trust you understand why I would be cautious in who I share this information with. Nya~"

Rose

You lean a little closer to listen this secret and... Wow, that is some secret she's sharing with you. It might or not might explain the way she looks like because horrorterrors and humans don't really mix up well in your knowledge. While you are not hiding your interest towards horrorterrors, you do feel more safe having only Crew knowing about your seer powers actual source. The answer makes you wonder, how it feels to have horrorterrors inside yourself instead of being horrorterror... "I believe I understand why," you nod and lean back to your original sitting position. "Since this is a game, I must wait. You may continue.

Jazz

You beam a smile, take her hand and put it on your head. Pets to continue please~ "What is your relationship to the outergods?"

Rose

You were first a little confused by this gesture but realize that she must be graving some more attention. Well then, you pet her again but this time properly, like you would pet cats. "Hmm... I have been  in contact with horrorterrors a long time in human years. They spike my curiosity and are my main subject to study so I would say my relationship with horrorterrors could be described as apprentice since I get in contact with them from time to time to learn more about their being," you answer and to be honest, it IS an honest answer.

Jazz

You nod. Before meeting your father you'd been researching them yourself. In truth they're probably the reason you met your father... You've always felt they wanted you for something. "Very fair~ If any try to deceive you let me know and I'll sink my claws into them," you tell her. Not all the outer gods can be trusted.

Rose

You chuckle a little bit for the words she said because you find Jazz very adorable from that moment. "I'll keep that in my mind. So, my turn to ask," you state and keep petting Jazz's head, while asking a little quieter to be sure no one could hear if they go past the door, "Have you always had horrorterrors inside you?"

Jazz

You're quiet for a moment then you answer honestly because if anyone could spot you in a lie, you suspect it is her. "No." There's another pause then you ask your question in return, "Have you ever had a cat named Jaspers?"

Rose

Okay, so she was maybe a human once and not like this originally. You wonder what happened to her and how she got these terrors inside her. However, the next question makes you stop petting Jazz for a moment and aren't smiling. It's been such a long time since someone mentioned dear Jasper and it's from the time you still had home and Mom around. "... Yes." Simple answer for simple question. You don't even ask right away a new question, because you need to have a little moment to collect your thoughts.

Jazz

"Ah I see.... so we share that then..." you say softly. You mean more than just Jaspers, but it still hurts too much to think of her much.

Rose

"... Did you also write stupidly long speech in Jasper's memory and read it out loud?" you ask, getting back petting Jazz softly.

Jazz

"Yes..." you say then laugh a little. "It may disturb you to know this... but my catness... it's... him..." You wonder, will she draw away? Will she be disgusted and horrified? Horrorterrors is one thing, but your beloved pet is another. You've also managed to forget the game for the moment. She's making you... feel... old things. This is dangerous. You are Jazz. Not Rose. You can never be Rose again nor do you want that.

Rose

This was very unexpected to hear so naturally you are quite in somewhere between shock and just being casually surprised. You don't know what to think about this like... Has she fused together with Jasper like... You aren't for sure but Sock is Dave and bird together like... Is this version of you the same way like Sock? You move your hands to hold Jazz face's sides while looking at her appearance, details that would tell you something, trying to analyse but... "You... You are not only me but also Jasper... Your Jasper?"

Jazz

"Yes... And I love you as much as I love me..." you say realizing it as you say it. Jaspers's knows Rose and loves her in all her forms, yourself and this alternate version included. that's frightening. But at least it's only the love a cat can feel. You can control that you think. If.... When you're father comes, he is what matters most.

Rose

Those words came from nowhere and was like a surprise attack after letting your guard down. It brings you back in the day how your Jasper died because of your stupid mistake. He could have lived longer life if you would have been more careful but you failed and... You once tried to even search if some kind of magic could bring him back but it's impossible. But your alternative self brought him in someway back alive? You can't hold yourself back and you embrace Jazz tightly while closing your eyes from tears. "I'm sorry.... I- I don't know if you understand... I'm- I'm sorry..."

Jazz

You think maybe you sort of understand. But you're not sure... It's must harder for you to understand feelings, particularly that of others since you became what you are. But she is you and not you... and you think if you were crying that maybe you'd want to be hugged. So you hug her back as tightly as you can with only one arm free. 'Perhaps.... this was part of the purpose...'' you think to yourself. Did the outergods want you here because of her? Did your father know? Would he understand?....

Rose

When you feel that she's hugging you back, it makes even harder for you to hold cry since tears have already won the battle between your eyelids. It's just touchy subject and the fact that there's two of you is making it even harder because you have a feeling that your other self haven't either had easy time in her original universe. This take a little time, before you speak. "I- I'm fine... This... This is just a lot to process..." you murmur and are ready to force yourself to stop hugging her.

Jazz

Slowly you let go and nod, "It is. I am willing to stop the game if you wish it..." The game is what led you to this pain... Perhaps it was a mistake on your part to play.

Rose

With your sleeve, you wipe some tears from your face. Thank god you didn't wear make-up today. "It... Would be wise though I have a lot questions for you but... I would like to continue this game some other time."

Jazz

"Alright. I am... um... Sorry to have given you distress...." and you actually mean it to an extent. You haven't been genuinely sorry to anyone other than your dad since... you changed. But you are what you need to be. You don't regret the change. "I suppose you'll be leaving for the moment then?"

Rose

"It's okay... You are not responsible how I reacted or in control how I feel from this," you assure. "But yes, I could consider to have a moment to collect my thoughts."

JazzToday at 1:30 PM

"Very well..." you close your eyes a moment and compose yourself as well. then you look up at her again with your smile, and you purr, "I look forward to seeing you again, Rose Lalonde~"

Rose

Faint smile comes across your face. It's nice to at least know Jazz looks a little more cheerful person than you are currently but... You wonder what she has gone through to get at this point. "I will come back later Jazz. If you want something that I could possibly bring, now's your chance to ask."

Jazz

"I would say knitting needles but I fear they would be mistaken for weapons and I could possibly be shot given my situation. So best to wait until I've proven myself and been made a member of the Midnight Crew~" you say casually.

Rose

"Well, I can bring you a yarn and teach you how to knit without needles, if you want," you suggest, assuming the way she says this that she haven't been taught how to knit without but you could be also wrong.

Jazz

Oh... she has a skill you do not! That's is rather wonderful and exciting really. You purr loudly and nod, "I'd like that greatly."

Rose

"That's then decided. I'll be back here at least tomorrow night after my work to show you how to do that," you say and get up.

Jazz

"I look forward to it, Rose. Take care of yourself in the meantime," you say. You are talking like a normal person would yes? you think perhaps for once you really are.

Rose

You smile a little amused, because worrying about your unnecessary reaction she should be more worrying about herself in case bosses are deciding something else than letting her join in the crew but.... You really hope she's clean enough to join and not a threat. "I would same to you, but it doesn't really wit in your situation so... I'm going to wish you luck that everything goes well. See you later." With that, you walk out  and close again the door behind you. After this brief but surprisingly emotionally straining moment, you feel like having a drink.

Jazz

You'd love a drink yourself but for now... you have books. That must do. You will do what it takes to join the Crew. Not more then ever you feel it is the best and most interesting way to have purpose in this world.

i knew from the first time

a dirkjohn shortfic, just a little drabble :) enjoy

There’s this kind of… stupidly catchy and happy song playing, and it’s giving you chills. To say that feels a little lame, a lot cheesy, and just a tiny bit dramatic. But it’s true. 

It might also be the dreamboat with the baby blues that keeps making eyes at you from over your brother’s shoulder. 

It feels like you’re Sherlock Holmes or fuckin’ Greg House or some shit, but you’re catching every detail you can, and trying to derive him. Yeah, derive him. He’s probably totally off limits, since he’s one of Dave’s friends. The two girls in the foursome are laughing at something he’s just said, and Rose takes a sip of her water, and Jade downs the three shots in front of her like she’s willing to drown by way of cheap well shots. 

That being said, Dave’s also chuckling. Which is.

Amazing. 

Dave doesn’t really laugh much, let alone in public. But this guy is getting his shoulders to move up and down, and one of Dave’s hands is covering his face. If you look closely, when the guy isn’t actively looking anywhere else, you can see his lips form the familiar ‘Karkat’ you see a lot, mostly from Dave. 

And those lips aren’t easy to look away from once you’re staring. 

They’re just a little chapped, probably from the beer. And he’s got some scrabbly shadow on his face. Hasn’t shaved in a day or two? His sleeves are rolled up, so he’s comfortable showing his arms. And they’re really nice arms. And his hair is so soft-looking that–

“Dirk!” 

You look back to Roxy. 

“Sorry.”

“I know you’re protective over little Davey but you really gotta loosen up! He’s twenty-four!” she says, landing a hand on your shoulder. 

It fucks up the screwdriver in front of you, and you get orange alcohol on your white shirt. Dammit. 

“He’s a big kid now!” she continues, shaking her head. 

“He can’t even drive–” you automatically protest, and she snorts. 

Roxy grins at you like she knows you’re going to lose whatever invisible contest she’s started. And yeah. You already lost. 

Your nails are a little too long. To avoid biting them, you tap them on the table. 

“He does too know how to drive,” she says. “He just doesn’t have a car.”

And, yeah. That’s not untrue. 

“Okay, okay,” you say, directing your full attention toward her. You know very well that Rose bribed her to drive her here, just to distract you from hanging over Dave’s shoulder all night. You can admit that maybe you’re a little bit of a helicopter parent. 

After all, ever since you rescued him from his dad’s? 

That was…

Scary shit. 

“Here,” Roxy says, and smacks a shot in front of each of you. Where the fuck did she even pull those out of? 

It burns as it goes down your throat. Roxy makes a hissing noise from her teeth, and wiggles, and pumps her fist in the air. That’ll be it for her tonight, you know. She’s the responsible one. No drinks until she was of age. No drugs, no one-night stands. 

Ha. 

You cleaned up a lot when Dave moved in with you. But it didn’t used to be pretty. Caffeine pills and energy drinks and Adderall to help you get through college, four years before your peers. You were That One Kid Who Skipped All The Grades. And after that, when you weren’t working, you were spending too much time in clubs, and at claustrophobic music festivals you had a little too much fun to ignore the panic of social overload. You hadn’t ever had a good relationship, unfeeling for literally anyone who came your way. 

And then Dave came in, and you started trying to make meals, burning toast, giving him an allowance, paying for his college with robot money. Cause he was your half-brother–

“Too much thinking!” Roxy says, abruptly. “Not enough dancing!” 

Speaking of siblings, your sister is currently dragging you off your chair. Maybe she steals your shades and hooks them over her own shirt, so you have to follow her. Maybe you resent her for actually doing what Rose wanted her to do.  Rocket scientist who just has… way too much capacity for fun. 

But hey. Dave will drive you home after this. 

Or you could afford a Lyft, probably. 

The dance floor is smaller than you’re used to being on, and the lights are a little brighter, but the music is really fun. 

Incapable of truly holding a beat, you more attempt to dance while Roxy spins circles around you, using you as a prop for her own fun. The usual. It’s a very careful and delicate symbiotic relationship. 

That same song plays again. The one that was playing earlier, with the eyes. 

For shits and giggles, you look over toward Dave’s table. 

Blue Eyes Guy is making eyes at you again. What the fuck? Is he trying to start a fight or does he want to fuck you??? Maybe both?

Examination of the tee shirt under his flannel shows you a green Slimer shirt of all fucking things. Roxy is dancing, using your arms to spin herself and try to force you into having more fun, but you’re too distracted. Blue Eyes is leaning his chin on his hand, just watching you now. So it wasn’t Roxy he was watching? It’s not something you’d considered until this point, distracted and way too gay to consider the existence of heterosexual people. 

He’s got square glasses, and…

Okay. 

You’re done. 

He’s just pulled on the arm of the glasses. Like, he fucking wiggled them like they were his eyebrows, and. Fuck. Okay. He’s pulling your leg. That’s good, it’s happened before. 

Roxy pulls your face to herself, almost shouting the lyrics of this song into your ears. It makes you laugh with the surprise of it, and you manage to get distracted, finally. Fuzziness seeps into your head as the alcohol finally hits you. And the lights aren’t too bright anymore, and Roxy’s dancing lifts your arms over your head, and you can actually follow the beat now that you’re paying attention. 

Maybe you just think you can follow the beat, though. That’s probably it.

But you can also choose to care about that tomorrow. Kind of like you’re choosing to care about the lyrics of this song right now. 

Cheesy top forty music that has two full verses, neither of which are truly meaningful. But the people on the dance floor are moving, and you’re having a good time with your sister, and it’s so much better than the acid and angel dust. 

Before you know it, it’s four songs later. You’re sweating, and there’s adrenaline and endorphins. Roxy’s gotten you another shot, and you might actually feel your face twitching into some kind of smile. 

Roxy laughs, and leans in to shout something into your ear about the bathroom. You go with her, of course. What are friends for except making sure you don’t get lost on your way back? 

The lines outside the ladies room are long, and once she disappears through the door, you go back to wait in the little hidden hallway nearby. She’ll find you. 

Time passes, some of it you’re aware of. Without Roxy right here, talking to you and making you feel normal, it’s too quiet. That’s okay. 

“Hey! Dave’s big bro, right?” 

Bright and a little too loud, the voice sounds right next to your ear. It makes you jump nearly a million feet in the air, and you’re trying to figure out an exit strategy already, dodging around the guy until you uh. 

Oh. 

It’s the… the guy. The blue eyes guy. 

“Blue eyes guy,” you say, and you’re just tipsy enough that you don’t even know if it was intentional or not. 

Regardless, the guy laughs, rubbing a hand over his face, and you feel like you’re on fire. Holy shit, he’s tall. 

Grey leisurewear sneakers, black hair, the hint of an outgrown overbite. He’s in college. Clean hands and nails - medical school? Dried out skin on his hands points to a lot of washing. Makes sense. Though to have such clean teeth. Dental? 

“Orthodontic tech, for now,” his lips say, while you’re trying not to look at them. “Do you talk to every one this way?” 

“Uh.” 

That’s it.

That’s all your super-genius fucking brain comes up with. You’re a mess. 

Sweaty, too. 

A hot mess. 

“Well, the hot part is right,” he says, and you feel like you’re on fire again. The slut instincts in your little slut brain are telling you to jump him right the fuck now. Maybe you’re more drunk than you thought. 

Your back hits a wall? What?

The hallway smells like weed. Huh. And Blue Eyes Guy is closer to you than you remember. Not a bad development. Maybe you’re a better dancer than you thought? 

“So, your name is Dirk,” he says, and his whole face looks like a daring scheme waiting to happen. A tricky face. A face that would short-sheet the bed and put saran wrap over the toilet. That’s annoying as fuck. But everything else? Hm.

“I don’t know what your name is, yet,” you say. And that’s a strange way to word a fucking question. 

“I’m John,” he says, and thank God he was able to push through your road block of social ineptitude. “And Dave has specifically told me that you’re off limits.” 

Oh right. Dave’s friends. 

“What, are you trying to get with me anyway?” you ask, feeling a touch more sober for a second. That’s a little offensive, even if you would tap it anyway. Cause you’d hate yourself after, but he looks like he’d feel real good. “You trying to use me or something?” 

John laughs, out loud. Not just a snort. 

“Fuck no,” he says, and okay. That’s okay. “Especially not while you’re drunk.” 

“I’m not drunk,” you say. And yeah you are. It’s been a long time since you drank. A long-ass time. 

“Yeah you are,” John echoes your thoughts, and you almost frown at him before remembering he’d be able to see it without your shades. 

You might be cute, but you’re not stupid. “Then why are you putting the moves on me, John…”

“Egbert,” he fills in, with a grin. And he leans in, and just a little away from your mouth, he sighs. Beer smell, not the best. But you get a whiff of your cologne from where you are, and okay. Flirting is. Kind of the best fucking thing. 

You choke back a laugh. “Answer the question, dumbass.”

John laughs on your face, pulling back so that you can see his. From here, Dave wouldn’t be able to see. Hm. Interesting. 

“I wanted you to know,” he says, and his body is so warm and he’s so tall and broad, and fuck. Seven years ago…. if he wasn’t a little baby teenager? Hurgh. 

“I wanted you to know, because I have absolutely no intent of hearing him out,” John says. “And I want to ask you out because you’re really cute.” 

Now, the corner of your mouth twitches up a little bit. If you weren’t so well-trained (by yourself), you’d giggle. The impulse is there, but you hold it desperately back. 

“Go for it,” you tell him, and when you lift your chin a little, you get the best head rush. Your lips are almost on his…

And you hit something cold. When you open your eyes, he’s looking fit to burst with laughter. Like something is just so funny.

Annoying.

You actually frown, now, and push him away from you. Just fucking around. You’re goddamn blind is what you are. “Not amusing, you prime dickhead.”

At the last possible second, he grabs your arm in one of his big hands, and you turn to him as you shake him off. Before you can open your mouth to shout at him and then very quickly go find Roxy, he holds out that same phone that has your lipstick print on it. 

“I was serious, though,” he says, and he looks a little apologetic. His phone is open to the contacts, a new one waiting for your digits.  

It’s still… annoying. 

 But you take the phone, and you put it in. Who ever said you didn’t like assholes who can’t take anything seriously? No one, that’s who.

“I’ll kiss you when you’re sober, okay?” he says. 

And that’s even more annoying. It’s a little patronizing. 

So you grab the collar of his stupid Slimer shirt, and pull him down to your level with all the grace of someone who has no idea what is supposed to come first in this shitty romance game. And you kiss him. 

He looks red, surprised, and shocked when you let him go, and he straightens up. Bright orange stains his lips and then a little around, sloppy from the smearing. And you huff at him. “Don’t text me before two in the afternoon or I’m blocking you.” 

He looks very pleasantly surprised as you walk away toward the little lounge area in front of the ladies room, where the spare mirrors are. 

We’ll see where this goes. 

We’ll see. 

Friends? (Part 1)

Prompt: “hey you’ve had a rough day so let’s get in our PJs and watch a cute movie together and cuddle bUT IT’S TOTALLY PLATONIC ALRIGHT” from the “friendship to romance tropes i can’t get enough of” list I reblogged

Fandom: Newsies (2017) - Modern College AU

Pairing: Davey Jacobs X Male Reader

Summary: After a long week, you decide to invite your best friend, Davey, over for a relaxing movie night. Soon enough you’re both tiredly leaning on each other, and who knows what could happen next?

Word Count: 2,442

Warnings: Food, language (there’s some f-bombs and such), some fighting?

A/N: I haven’t written a male reader before, but I usually try to keep all my fics gender neutral, so I hope this was okay? I used he/him pronouns for the reader. I don’t know if I got the guy friendship right, but I tried. If anyone has any tips, I’d be happy to hear them!! (Also, in this fic I had Jack be bi and Davey be gay, the reader’s sexuality is left ambiguous) And I broke it into two parts cause I wanted to create suspense

Friends? Series - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

~~~

This week couldn’t have been longer. You had had three tests, and two papers due, not to mention work on top of that. To say you were spent would be an understatement. You knew that your friends would want to go out on a Friday night, but you couldn’t work up the energy to cook food let alone go to a party. You were lucky enough to have a best friend who understood that.

That best friend was David Jacobs. You two had become friends during your freshman year when he was your chemistry lab partner, and ever since it was like you two had known each other for forever. You had known Jack from high school, and were unsurprised when Jack tried to introduce you to Davey since Jack is such a people person and always trying to include you in things.

The two had met in their art appreciation class and hit it off when they got into a lively discussion about the definition of art. When you explained you already knew each other Jack then got you into the discussion and let’s just say he still brings it up every once and awhile.

Jack was usually the one for parties, but Davey was just as happy with a good book. He understood your wish to just stay home, and happily made his way over to your place with a fresh pizza and a Back to the Future box set when you texted him you needed something to recharge with.

You opened the door, already in your pajamas, and smiled tiredly at your friend. “That bad of a week, huh?” he asked as he made his way into your apartment. You let out a yawn in response, and he just chuckled. Davey set the pizza on your coffee table before heading to the kitchen for some plates and napkins.

Making yourself comfy on your couch, you just watch as Davey sets everything up. “Thanks, man. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. Think of this as me repaying you for helping me during finals,” he said, handing you a plate with a slice, and a smile.

You gratefully take it and can’t help the smirk that comes to your face. “I think pizza and a movie isn’t going to cover you keeping me up for two days for non-stop quizzing.” Davey chuckles again, and blushes a little bit at the memory. He had been stressing nonstop over his psychology and sociology finals, and being the good friend that you are, had helped him study for both, even though you weren’t even in those classes. You actually still remembered some of the information, even if it was pretty much useless for now.

As he settles next to you on the couch he grabs a slice of pizza for himself. “Alright, but at least it’s making a dent in what I owe you for that.” You just nod and take a bite of your pizza, and Davey takes that as his cue to start the movie. As you watch Marty travel between the past, present, and future and you consume more and more pizza, you feel your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

Soon enough the pizza is forgotten, and you’re carefully resting your head on Davey’s shoulder. ~ You’re dozing slightly, almost in between consciousness and wakefulness. Too tired to care about what you’re resting on since it’s warm and comfy and that’s all that matters. As the soundtrack of the movie continues to lull you to sleep, your pillow shifts and you groan, nuzzling into it. It seems to work, as it stops shifting, and you lean more heavily onto it.

Then unexpectedly, you’re falling. You land on something slightly softer, but you decide to get up anyway, the surprise waking you up. Pushing yourself up, you see that your hand on Davey’s thigh is holding you up and scramble to get off of him and let go of it, waking yourself up more in the process. You’re both blushing messes and you decide to clean up some of your mess as a way to calm yourself down. Throwing away some of the uneaten pizza crusts, you keep the leftover pieces in the box and stick it in the fridge.

When you get back to the couch, Davey’s putting in a different movie, and upon closer inspection see that it’s Meet the Robinsons, one of your shared favorites. As Wilbur goes on his adventure, you tuck yourself closer to the couch’s armrest on the opposite side of where Dave is sitting. Yeah, leaning on him was nice, but you didn’t want to fuck up your friendship by weirding him out in your tired state.

About halfway through the movie, you’re starting to doze off while resting on your hand. The last thing you remember before your eyes fully close is the bowler hat guy taking over. It seems like you were finally done for, since the next time you wake up, you’re securely wrapped in someone’s arms and completely stretched out rather than curled up.

Not remembering what happened, and not really caring with how comfortable you are, you cuddle into your heat provider and slowly drift back off. You absentmindedly feel something wrap around you. Goddamn octopus, let go of my truck, you think in your hazy state.

But then your warm partner’s laughing and the rumbles of his chest are waking you up. You groan and think, Fucking octo went and fucked up the motor. Asshole. The rumbles are deeper, and now there’s shaking going on and you just sit up, and blearily wipe at your eyes.

You’re met with Davey’s face next to yours and he seems like he’s trying to hold in his laughter, but at the sight of your confused and tired face he loses it. Laughing with his whole body, you’re kind of pushed off of the couch. You groan as you hit the floor, and David is just laughing even harder.

“What the hell is so funny?” you grumble out as you try to wake up. It takes him a few minutes to respond, since whenever he looks at you still sitting on the floor, his laughter picks up again. You let out a huff and stand up, heading to the kitchen. You stretch a little and look at your microwave to see that it’s almost six in the morning. Not the worst sleep I’ve had.

You start the coffee machine and grab two mugs. Leaning against the counter a you wait for the caffeine to brew, you rest your eyes and try to focus your thoughts on what you need to do today. I have that paper due in a few days, I should probably get started on that. And I have that stuff I need to research for that science class. You groan and can’t help but want to go back to bed.

When Dave finally calms down he joins you in the kitchen. He leans on the counter next to you and bumps your shoulder with his. You glare at him, still tired from the week and your unplanned early morning. But the glare doesn’t last long when he’s smiling at you with that stupidly beautiful mouth of his.

“I don’t know what you were dreaming about, but if I hope that octopus didn’t mess up your truck too bad,” he can’t even stifle the giggle he lets out at your confused face. Then you realize that you had been talking and not thinking. You hide your face behind a hand and let out another groan. Today was already off to a great start.

“Ah, don’t worry,” he says, pulling your hand away from your face, “I won’t tell anyone about your weird tentacle dream.” You punch him in the arm, and he rubs it with a chuckle.

“You better not, or I’m withholding your coffee before work.” That gets him to shut up, and then you’re laughing at the idioticness of the situation. He watches you, that smile still on his face. You thought you saw something in his eyes, but then he lets out a cough and you realize that the coffee is ready. You pour some in each mug and grab some creamer from the fridge, and hand it to Davey.

He accepts it and pours some in before setting it onto the counter, he adds some sugar before taking a sip. David drinks and contemplates something while you fix your coffee the way you like it. You sip in silence and sooner than you’d like, Davey is saying he has to leave so he can go home and grab a shower and his uniform before work. You say goodbye, and after he closes the door behind him, you let out a wistful sigh.

“Idiot!” you exclaim to yourself. You had been cuddling with Davey, your best friend, and kind of crush and your weird dream just had to ruin it. Letting out another sigh, you look back to your living room, which isn’t in the worst shape it’s ever been, and head to your room. Flopping onto the bed, you quickly fall back asleep.

Waking up much later in the day, you decide to get up and actually do some work. As you gear up to do some serious investigating for that science thing, your phone goes off. Checking it, you see that it was a text from Jack. You have to reread it several times, but even if you turn it sideways, you can’t make out what he was trying to say. You text a quick, “What?” to him and set your phone aside, trying to focus back on the task at hand.

The second your hands touch the keys of your laptop though, your phone goes off again. You see that it’s Jack again, and you still can’t make out what he’s saying. Letting out a huff, and taking a breath to steady yourself, you dial his number. Phone calls may be a horrible experience, but if something had happened you were going to find out.

The phone picks up after the second ring, but you don’t hear anything other than some grunts and what seems to be the phone passing between hands. You hear an outcry of, “Jack!” and you realize that Davey is there too.

“Hello?” you ask, confused as to what was happening on the other end of the line.

“Don’t! Jack!” you hear Davey yell, and then you hear heavy panting.

Your confusion only increases, and you’re about to voice this when you hear Jack say, “I’m doing this for your own good Davey. So, (Y/N),” Jack finally addresses you.

“Yeah? Jack what the hell is going on? What was with those texts? Was someone trying to murder you or something?”

“Well, Dave was trying to stop me from helping him, sorry for the confusion. Now onto important business.” You hear something in the background and then Jack is panting into the phone again. “Davey come on, just let me do this!”

“No!” then you think the phone was dropped.

“Hello?” you ask. “Jack, Davey, can you hear me?”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Davey answers the phone in a forcefully cheerful tone.

“Davey? What the fuck is happening? Are you two fighting or something?” you ask, knowing that the worst argument the two had gotten into only ended with the silent treatment.

“What? No!” he says, obviously lying. You start to hear Jack say something in the background, but Davey shushes him. “Everything’s fine! Jack just sat on his phone wrong and accidentally sent the texts.”

“That doesn’t happen with a touchscreen, Dave.”

“Doesn’t it?” he asks, obviously nervous. “I’ve seen videos of it happening and stuff like that where Siri turns on and hears a conversation and sends it as a text and-”

“Davey,” you cut him off, “I’m going to hang up and go work on my paper now. I suggest you give Jack back his phone before he takes it back. I’ll talk to you later, bye.” You hang up and shake your head, those goddamn idiots.

What you don’t know is happening on the other side of town is that Davey is breathing a sigh of relief for the first time in an hour. Jack had come into the coffee shop Dave worked at and had been talking to him until it was time for his break. When Davey filled him in on what happened last night, Jack was asking all sorts of questions. He was also trying to text you that Davey was gushing over how adorable you were while asleep.

Jack had had enough of both of your secret pinings and was going to get one of you to confess to the other. Yeah, it was a shitty idea, but Jack just wanted his two knuckleheads of friends to be happy. However, when Davey found out he grabbed his phone and started running. Jack easily caught up to him and then you called when Jack finally had his phone back.

Now the two men were sitting on the sidewalk. Davey had handed Jack his phone back and they were thinking about what had just happened. “I’m sorry for taking your phone,” Davey says quietly.

“I’m sorry for almost talking about your crush.” They shake hands and sit for a few minutes before Jack speaks up again. “I wasn’t going to say it in so many words, but Davey you have to say somethin’ for god’s sakes. I know it’s driving you crazy, and it’s driving him just as crazy! You know it ain’t just girls who obsess over this kind of stuff.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Davey responds with a laugh, “but I get what you’re saying. If I’m thinking about it as much as he is then I should do something. But I don’t want to fuck it up. He could not feel the same way. And he’s the first guy I’ve made a really strong friendship with since I met you and the other news guys, but goddamn is he making it hard to just be friends.” With a sigh, Davey looks at the sky and just looks at the clouds.

“Then howsabout we get it straight from the horse’s mouth?” Davey gives him a look. “Okay, maybe not straight, but you know what I mean.” They share a laugh and then Jack is filling Davey in on a plan that he’s had for quite some time. They plot as you sit unaware on your couch, working on your paper. Boy were you going to be surprised next week.

22       “Go West Young Man...”

When I was a kid, I didn’t know my Uncle Wally and Aunt Harriet as well my brothers did. Al and Mickey probably knew them better because whenever the three of us got to stay overnight at someone’s house, I was always sent to Granny’s, while my brothers would go to Wally and Harriett’s.  I really don’t know why it was done that way, but the long and short of it -I grew up thinking that Wally and Harriet didn’t like me as much as my brothers.  Anyway, I liked being Granny’s boy.

It was a real shocker, when I was 15 years old, Wally and Harriet asked me to come out to Bluffton, Indiana, to spend some of the summer with them and my three cousins, Sari (pronounced Shari), Bob, and John. Wally, a physician, was doing his residency in radiology at the Caylor-Nickel Clinic in Bluffton.  Other than my trip to New Jersey to “see a farm”, I had not seen any part of the U.S. outside of New York City and Long Island.  I traveled to the City, and connected with them at Pop’s house, where they were visiting.  I knew Sari and Bob from before, and it was the first time I met John.  Sari was about 7, Bob 5, and John 8 months.  

Our trip to Indiana was a bit more difficult than it is today. The only super highway was the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Turnpike’s in New Jersey and Ohio were non-existent.  Riding on the Pennsylvania Turnpike was somewhat exciting- the speed limit was about 70 mph, there were tunnels bored through the mountains, and places to stop to rest, get something to eat, and gas up.  Also, you could buy lots of souvenirs to show you traveled the Pennsylvania Turnpike.  

The plan was to get me settled, and help me find a friend or two. Wally and Harriet thought finding me some work out on a farm would also be really good for me.  A kid from their neighborhood found out I was coming to Bluffton, and I would be available to help out on a farm. I can’t remember his name, but his mom worked for my Uncle at the Clinic. Anyhow, very early in the morning, two days later, I was out in the hay field with a pitch fork, turning over rows of cut hay.  The idea was to let the sun dry it out before it was baled and stored. We worked a couple of hours. It was hard work, especially for me. There wasn’t a pitch fork little enough for me.  Like most jobs I do with others, I secretly get competitive, trying to turn over more hay than anyone else. I also get self-centered and begin to think that everyone must be impressed with how superb I am at turning hay- they must be very pleased with me.

Then came the surprise! It was time for breakfast!  The plan was to relax, gain our strength, and eat a hearty breakfast.  Eggs, pancakes, sausage, grits, etc.  I’m sure I ate much more than my share.  Even though I was a little squirt, I could eat like a lumberjack. Then it was back out to the field to bale the hay.  I was asked if I wanted to bale or to work in the loft organizing the bales as they came through the doors of the loft. I said I would like to be in the loft. Than the farmer asked me if I was strong enough to move the bales. He added, ”they are about 9 pounds each.” Only, that’s what I heard. What he actually said was 90 pounds each.  A huge ramp was set up in front of the barn. The ramp went from the ground to the loft, and it had a wide belt that moved upward. It worked like a people mover you see at airports. It allowed for a bale to be placed on the belt, to reach the loft level, and to fall into the loft.  I was cautioned about not being under the loft doors when a bale came falling over, and once the bale was on the floor of the loft, move it away quickly. If it got hit by another bale, hay will sort of explode  all over the place.  Got it! No problem!

There I was, about 4’10” and 95 lbs, ready with an iron hook to snatch the first bale that came through the loft doors.  I watch it drop and hit the floor.  I made a dash for it, hooked onto it, and pulled. It didn’t move!  I yanked with both hands holding the hook. That bale must have taken root right there on the loft floor- I couldn’t budge it.  I looked up just in time to see the next bale getting ready to take its fall.  I knew I needed to yell to everyone to stop the ramp. But with the noise of the ramp, I could scream and not be heard.  The loft doors were way too high for me to climb up there and yell down to them from there. I needed to get down there and let them know I can’t do it. Now, for me to admit I couldn’t do something after I assured everyone I could do it was far beyond the capabilities of my character.  So, when I reached the ground level and walked out of the barn, I went the other way. No one saw me as I walked toward the fields. I simply made myself disappear. It was like leaving the game after being lonesome in right field.  As I walked on a road, I got a distant view of the bales being lifted up to the loft doors. Yeow, they didn’t know I was gone.

I was wishing I was back home in New York…maybe the country road I was on went that way.  But the best I could do was to find my way back to town to Wally and Harriet’s house.  I was ashamed of what I did.  I can’t imagine the mess I caused, or the panic. I’m sure when they went up to the loft, hay was everywhere. Where was I.  In all likelihood, I was buried under the hay!

When the truth became known, I got a very long talk with my Aunt and Uncle, I think their neighbor was very upset, and I never, no not ever, worked on a farm since.  I got to do odd jobs for other folks.  Instead of going into detail about each job, here is a summary., I went on a day long bicycle trip toward Fort Wayne without telling anyone, I backed a pickup truck and bored a huge hole in the Williamson’s horse barn, and I got stung by a swarm of wasps that chased me around the Almdale house 4 times before those wasps got me, and while learning how to drive, I rode Wally’s 1946 Plymouth coup into a humongous ditch- Wally was in the car.

Those were the big negative things that happened, but there were lots of positives. I got to know my cousins better, and Wally and Harriet, as well. I liked my cousins a whole lot.  Sari, as I said previously, was one the prettiest girls ever.  The day I left, she ran over to me  and kissed me hard on my cheek as she hugged me tightly around my neck. That was a great surprise, and I didn’t get embarrassed.  I returned home on The Pennsylvania Railroad. I know my trip to Bluffton was positive for them because they wanted me to come visit them again.

When I was a senior in high school, in 1954, Wally and Harriet were to intervene in my life far beyond anything I could have imagined. Wally was about to join a radiology group in South Bend that spring. He asked if I would like to come out to Indiana, during my Spring break, and help them get settled in their new home.  I took a train from Penn Station, in Manhattan, to Plymouth, Indiana just 30 miles south of South Bend. If I would have taken a train on the New York Central Railroad, I could have gone directly to South Bend. However, since my father worked for the Pennsylvania Railroad, the train ride was free.  Although. I did have to pay six bucks for an upper berth in the Pullman Car. When the train pulled into the Plymouth station, I could see Wally, Harriet, and my cousins waiting on the platform for me.  

As soon as I got settled in the house in South Bend, Wally asked me where I was going to college. I told him I had been accepted in a pre-med program at Davis & Elkins College in Wheeling, West Virginia. You know, up to that day, I had never been to Wheeling or to Davis & Elkins, but it was the only college that wrote to me in my senior year of high school. So I applied. I did have applications to Princeton and Columbia in my hands, but after hearing that another senior I knew got turned down by Princeton, I knew I’d never make it. That kid was an excellent student, he was one of the captains of the football team, he was on the debate team, and he was one of the most popular kids in our school. There was no way Princeton would look at me.  I had a C average, and I did nothing in high school. Wait! I take that back. I did manage to be the homeroom representative to the Red Cross in the 7th grade, but that was junior high school. I tried out for basketball my freshman year and my senior year. No luck. I was just too small. You know, when I graduated from high school, I was 5’1” and 110 pounds. That’s what it said on my draft card.  As I’ve been saying all along, I was a shrimp.

Stupidly, I never applied to Princeton. Anybody who knew me would have thought I was going to apply there. After attending Princeton Summer Camp, being a camper, a counselor, swimming with the Princeton swim team, and becoming friends with the Princeton students, my world turned Orange and Black. Since Daddy worked for the PRR, I traveled for free to a slew of football games at Palmer Stadium, I got to eat at the Canon Club with Dave Cockcroft, and I visited some of the guys I knew in the halls. I even got to see a building that was home to the graduate school. I was in awe to find out people would go to school after college.  In summary, I suppose I have been a “Princeton Wana-Be” all my life. I ended up going to Notre Dame. I never went to school at Princeton for one simple reason- I never applied for admission. Someone once told me that not applying to the school you want to attend was stupid, as I essentially put myself on the admissions committee and turned myself down.

Well, back to Wally, and to me going to Notre Dame.  After I told him about Davis and Elkins, he suggested, why don’t I go to school here, meaning in South Bend. He would arrange for me to talk with someone. I asked him what college was in South Bend, and he said Notre Dame. I asked him if that was the same school that played football against Army. He said that’s the one. Wow! Wouldn’t that be something? Before I learned about Princeton, I was an Army fan. I hated Notre Dame, and I hated Johnny Lujak. I was a “Doc” Blanchard, Glen Davis and Arnold Tucker fan. I was nuts about the Black Knights of the Hudson. I could even whistle their fight song.  I told Wally that since it was April, it was probably too late.  But, I added, it wouldn’t hurt to go talk.

The next day, I was in an office, under the Golden Dome, talking with Father John A. O’Brien, the most prolific writer of Catholic literature, in pamphlet form, in the entire history of the Catholic Church. If you’ve ever been in a Catholic church usually there is a display of pamphlets concerning salient issues for Catholics in a modern society. In those days, I’ll bet 50% of the pamphlets were written by him.

He was a super kind, thoughtful man.  Talking with him was as good as talking with God Himself!  At the end of our hour long conversation, Father O’Brian encouraged me to make application to Notre Dame du lac, “Our Lady of the Lake.” Well, I completed the application, and sent a request for a transcript of my grades to be forwarded to Notre Dame.

At home, a week later, I got a call from Harriett telling me that my acceptance didn’t look good, as I was in the lowest quarter of my class. Something was wrong! I was, at least, in the top half of my class.   What turned out to be wrong was that they received my brother’s transcript rather than mine. Mickey, as I have shared with you earlier, was dyslexic. Reading was very difficult for him, and his grades suffered.  He was left back in 8th grade.  We went to school together from then on. So, he was a senior, also. The other aspect to that was Mickey was a terrific linebacker on our football team. So when Freeport High got the request to send the transcript to Notre Dame, Mickey’s transcript was more logical to send.  But Notre Dame wanted my transcript. The correction was made.

Then, during the following week, we had a bomb scare at school.  The entire school was evacuated.  All the students were standing outside while the authorities searched for the bomb. It turned out to be a hoax, but the school was bound and determined to find the culprit. We filed back in to our classrooms.  No one was allowed to leave his or her classroom.  It was a lock down. Then an announcement came into our homeroom requesting that I be sent to the principal’s office. I’m certain, everyone in my homeroom thought I was the guilty party-the Bomber!  I went to the principal’s office ready to defend myself, but feeling scared. When I got there, Mr. Southard, my 7th grade principal,and now my High School principal, was smiling at me. He told me there was a phone call for me, and I could take it in his office. Believe it or not, it was Harriett on the phone. You would have thought she was the Chairperson of the Admissions Committee for Notre Dame. She congratulated me, and told me the good news- I was accepted to Notre Dame. She told me I could come and stay with them my freshman year. I hung up the phone, and walked out of Mr. Southard’s office.  All the people in the secretary’s office were applauding. They all looked so happy for me. I couldn’t believe everyone in that office was excited for me…probably everyone in that office was Irish. My letter of acceptance would come a few days later, officially making it a done deal.

(I would like to interject my thanks to Mr. Southard’s unyielding support of me throughout all my years at Freeport Jr.- Sr. High.   I had very blond hair through those years.  He got around to calling me “whitey” which made me feel special to him. As a principal, he was the tops- in a class all by himself!)

When I got back to my homeroom, it was hard to be humble. I tried to be cool, without gloating. Word spread like wildfire. Richie was going to Notre Dame. Some people might have attributed my success to my brains, rather than to Wally’s connections. Believe it or not, as far as the Irish were concerned, Notre Dame outdistanced any other college in the country. To any Irishman in New York, I was about to enter the Pearly Gates.

You know, my father never really said to me how he truly felt. He seemed happy for me, and proud of his little Richie. But my brother, Al, told me years later, Daddy was really pissed off at my uncle for interfering in my life. Perhaps I was naïve.  I just never had a clue.  My father had a non-intervention policy regarding our education. Al said that the old man told Wally that I was doing fine on my own, I had found a school, and that Wally should not have done what he did.  If Daddy was alive today, I bet he would never tell me about that.

fic: two for mirth 36/?

[terminusgladiates.bubblr-fatima.com/chrono]

anonymous asks terminusgladiates: All you are is a creepy brainwashed freak. There are people still recovering from horrific abuse at the hands of Trolls and here you are talking about how slavery isn’t that bad.

nope

pretty sure i never said that looking through all my posts so far and i am pretty sure i never said that

what i did say was that i was pretty lucky after a pretty bad time

more lucky than i think i deserve sometimes when someone else had it worse

(doctor lalonde is at my shoulder right now saying how it’s not a competition about how worse someone else had it)

and if you are saying im brainwashed dont that mean i too am recovering from horrific abuse

because brainwashing = horrific abuse

do you have an ideal template of how an abuse victim is supposed to act that i could follow

im serious here how can i behave in a way you want me too brosis so ill meet your standards

[translator: John Egbert]

calamitycats asks terminusgladiates: Bearing in mind you might not be able to answer. Does anyone decide what you’re going to say?

eh yes and no i pretty much started posting/uploading on my own

wanted to get the ball rolling early before the tabloids did about the capital r relationship

i may have gotten in a tiny amount of trouble with the ambassador

the emissary didnt care though and the actual team handling the press didnt have a problem with it

the emissary reads over my shoulder sometimes and critiques my writing

doctor lalonde occasionally suggests better language

and theres egbert who mostly translates

the only post so far that was nixed was a poll for the other half of the emissarys title

i am not allowed to crowdsource sobriquets

srsly though Loudyell would be the best name

[translator: John Egbert]

Edit to add:

[Note from Emissary: NO IT WOULDN’T STOP TRYING TO MAKE LOUDYELL HAPPEN]

golgothasterror asks: You’re spot on chum! No one person processes what happened to them in the same way. Your anonymous unfriend had no right to speak to you so!

understood gt

anonymous hate is pretty puzzling to me though

its not like id challenge them to a duel

it would make the emissary sad

(it would possibly also make him sad if i talked about how damn cowardly it is so i won’t talk about how damn cowardly it is)

also i think dueling is illegal

challenge them to a bar fight maybe

nothing to see hear officers just a random bar fight

nothing prearranged or anything

[translator: John Egbert]

golgothasterror replies: Ha! I wouldn’t mind a *friendly* bout with you! There was always a bit of rough and tumble with some bets on the side when I was a sprog on AGRI-Station 612413!

i would totally take you up on that bro ive mostly been sparring with master whose no slouch but its been a while since i fought someone taller than me or fought fistkind.  

[translator: John Egbert]

terminusgladiates posted:

[Image: Author Karkat Vantas looking up at the camera and glaring blearily over his breakfast bowl. His hair is a rumpled mess and he’s wearing a fuzzy gray bath robe. ]

caption: before

[Image: Author Karkat Vantas, glaring at the camera while wearing a suit and tie. His hair has not noticeably changed from the previous picture.]

caption: after

heres master off to get his daily scheduled lecturing in as you can see no comb has ever defiled his hair

its a tragic situation here

im accepting donations for the buy my master a comb fund

Edit to add:

[Note from Emissary: STOP COMPLAINING ABOUT MY HAIR DAVE COMPLAINING ABOUT MY HAIR IS NEVER FUNNY.]

ill stop complaining when you actually comb your hair master

[translator: John Egbert]

anonymous asks terminusgladiates: What do you like about dancing? Do you think you might make it a career?

mostly its fun and good exercise i always liked tumbling which was something i got lessons in because being fast and flexible were kind of a requirement when it became pretty clear i wasn’t going to suddenly shoot up a half meter or anything

it became a more invested interest after i started talking with professional quadrant facilitators a few of whom became interested in me and started critiquing my first few dance vids if im doing something i like to be really, really good at it so i started practicing more and adding it to my usual exercise routine or just to get the extra energy out

(maybe a little because im an exhibitionist and masters martyred pining thing was funny)

i dont think it will be a career career i had too late of a start its just going to be one more thing i have up on my trolltube account

[translator: John Egbert]

anonymous asks terminusgladiates: how many trolls have you killed? Do you like killing trolls? Have you ever killed another human?

its not like i have notches on my belt or something citizen

maybe something like a fifty probably more than that

not all fights are to the death unless youre talking execution duels

whether or not you like killing trolls is not exactly something you talk about lest you attract the wrong kind of fan such is the gladiatorial wisdoms that were passed down to me by a veteran gladiator owned by master paysun terhun

yes and that’s pretty much all im gonna say about it except that he was a pirate and im more than happy to kill pirates troll human or denbakian

[translator: John Egbert]

tinymonstergirl asks terminusgladiates: I saw you on Josh Miller last night. You and the Emissary were really funny! (Somehow I didn’t expect that to be a thing?) I was just wondering you were both referring to being owned by the Emissary as a relationship. Do you really think of it that way?

relationship doesnt have to mean a romantic relationship i mean you can call the interactions between a parent and their kid a relationship and you can call interactions between you and your employer a relationship therefore you can call being a concubine to a guy who never wanted one a relationship

and he really really didnt want one in his own words he decided to treat me like a combination of a guest and someones lusus he was taking care of a real hands off approach while trying to be as accommodating and entertaining as possible

it did not go so well my friend it did not go so well at all

later on he realizes he wants to be friends with me and he couldnt let himself do that and later on after that he decides he wants to court my fine self

not an easy thing to do considering he didnt want me to be a concubine since i sure didnt want to be a concubine

(not of course that I have any disrespect for sex workers i am in awe of their mad skills holy shit the things i learned in training and while talking with courtesans at various parties temeri i salute you in all your concupiscences where ever you are i mean hot damn)

and neither of us knew master makara had multiple reasons for setting us up the way he did

so things were strained for a while

but i like talking to him and hes cute and he stays up with me when im having a bad time and hes i have no way to put this that isnt embarrassing as fuck

just bear with me because its embarrassing

nope still got to wait for it

okay fuck

hes kind

just genuinely stupidly concerned about making sure everything is okay and giving me as much space as i need and sweet in really unexpected ways

[translator: John Egbert]

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