#and there should have been a fucking PLAN an overreaching PLOT

[atopvisenyashill]

do u ship reylo? 👀

[fromtheseventhhell]

The more I think on it I think the lack of the time skip may have affected how GRRM wanted to have the dynamic between Littlefinger and Sansa to play out. With the time skip we'd be coming back to an 18 year old Sansa who's had 5 years of either learning to be his protege, being under his manipulations, or secretly plotting against him. Without it we're coming back to a 13 year old Sansa newly traumatized by her aunt trying to kill her who's still figuring out how much she can and should trust the him. An 18 year old Sansa probably would've been in on the plan to resolve to be Sansa Stark and take North but now he has to restructure the plan for a younger Sansa, who ends up being a more passive party going along with what Littlefinger wants than a more active participant.

It actually does help a lot that we have access to a couple of different AFFC drafts. Sansa's the only character to have all her chapters in that book accounted for as early as October 2003 but the talk with Littlefinger at the end of Alayne II was still missing as of the June 2004 version. His dialogue about Cersei in GRRM's other note isn't an exact match to the published version either, he sounds more amused by how quickly she fucked things up for herself than saying she's overreached and will soon be done. GRRM hadn't even written the part where he explains Harry the Heir's role as her betrothed, but her next planned chapter is all about her needing to seduce him.

What actually seems to be new material is what he crossed out involving Sweetrobin and news from W(hite) H(arbor), along with killing the Mad Mouse (but were those two points crossed out because he pushed them out of the book or scrapped them in favor of focusing on Shadrich?) I definitely think GRRM is setting Sansa up as one of the driving conflicts involving the Stark succession crisis in TWOW with Littlefinger whispering in her ear about her deserving Winterfell and possible news of her siblings being fakes. Definitely the basis of the season 7 fight between Sansa and Arya came from GRRM, no matter how painfully poorly written it was. The question of who ends up ruling the North isn't compelling if it simply involves them all saying they don't want it and another sibling can have it, you need to have a least one who truly wants it and believes it's their right.

I wholeheartedly agree that the lack of a time skip changed the dynamic between LF and Sansa. If we'd had the time skip it would've allowed time for Sansa to grow + learn from her time with LF and we likely would've come back to her being more politically savvy and confident, which would've set the stage for her doing her own scheming. Instead, like you said, we have a Sansa who is (currently) going to be more passive in his plans. It's a little disappointing because that growth would've been interesting, but it seems like her development has taken a backseat to LF's planning. She could still have that development but it won't be anywhere as dramatic as it would've been because that's not how George develops his characters. With her TWOW sample chapter, it seems that her development will be dependent on when George wants to reveal LF's plan. When that comes out, we'll likely start to see Sansa becoming more active.

As for the other plot points in the outline, the crossed-out ones could still be on the table. Arya has a crossed-out point of "mercy at the gate" and "Mercy" is her opening in TWOW. SW "woos/weds" is very interesting to me and could signify a change in LF's plans. I don't believe that they're going to be a "driving force" for the Northern plot, I believe their actions will be reactionary, but I do think that whatever happens North will have an impact. LF believes that Sansa is the only Stark left to claim the Winterfell so that meant he could take his time (with the time skip he would've been waiting years); the exposure of Robb's will + four other Starks coming back into play will significantly change things and his timeline. We don't know what LF's real plans are but getting this news (from white harbor?) will affect what he's told Sansa and her feelings on the matter. She's going along with his plans because the idea of retaking Winterfell has been presented to her, and I can see her latching onto that. If Jon becomes King, which is very likely, it could lay the ground for conflict between them. While Sansa has been pretending to be a bastard she hasn't really confronted her classism or behavior towards him. We know that Arya and Sansa are going to have issues to work out, to whatever level, so I don't think it's impossible that other sibling conflicts will exist.

There are also the developments with the KL (southern?) plot to consider. With JonCon making trouble for the Lannister's + Tommen's reign facing problems he could try, or be forced, to interact with that plot. The Northern plot won't be the only thing to influence what's happening in the Vale, or LF's actions. His main goal probably wasn't ever to claim Winterfell, it was just a bonus to him having Sansa in his grasp. If things become too "active" there he might readjust his attention. There are a lot of different things that could impact the plot, some things that will only be introduced in TWOW, and ways the plot could play out so it's hard to say anything concrete about it.

[homeiswherethestuckis]

Hey, It Pays the Rent (Part 2/3) Friends

@notedchampagne I meant to finish this sooner so it was closer to your birthday, but it kinda got away from me, lol.  Anyway, here’s the second part of your roommates/enemies to friends to lovers birthday fic!  I hope you like it!  :D

(sorry in advance for the length)

(Part 1/3) Enemies

(Part 3/3) Lovers

It was weird how quickly you went from hating Karkat’s steaming insides to considering him a friend.  A month ago you didn’t want to go anywhere near that asshole, and now you look forward to your weekly movie night with him.

Or maybe...maybe it’s not as weird as you think?  When you really consider it, you’d never had an actual conversation with Karkat until that awkward night early in your roommateship.  You’d known Karkat for years, and yet you knew jack shit about him.  Maybe you would’ve been friends with him sooner if you’d ever had an honest conversation with him before this.

Not that you’ve been having tons of emotional heart to hearts since.

Actually...aside from Karkat’s single awkward outburst, you still know jack shit about him.

You should probably change that sometime…

“Dave?”  Karkat yells at you from the living room.  “How’s the popcorn coming?”

But now’s not that time.

“Yeah, it’s coming!”  You rip open a bag of popcorn from the microwave and dump it in a bowl.  “Look out!  We’ve got some piping hot corns, popped and buttered for your pleasure.  I’m telling you, dude, you’re gonna be so into this your taste buds are gonna orgasm so fucking hard you’ll be tasting shit funny for a week.”

You set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table and flop onto the couch next to Karkat.  You use the table as a footrest.  

Karkat squints at you suspiciously.  “The way you phrased that makes me really question leaving you in charge of the popcorn.”

He says this as he shoves his entire hand in the bowl.  You point this out by nudging the bowl with your foot.  “Clearly you’re not that concerned about it.”

He glares at you and pulls the bowl closer to himself.  “And get your fucking stink frond away from my hot snack corn!”

You snort.  “Okay, okay, if you’re that serious about it I’ll leave you two alone.”

You start to stand up, but Karkat grabs your shirt and pulls you back down.  “No, you stay put, you shit.  If this snack is gonna have a fucking orgy in my mouth, you have to stay put and watch this monstrosity you’ve created go down in the most hellish way imaginable.”

He takes his hand out of the popcorn bowl, a couple kernels fall from his hand and onto the carpet.  Without taking his eyes away from you, his brings his fistful of popcorn up to his mouth and eats it out of his own palm like he’s a god damn horse.  And, like the disgusting horse he’s pretending to be, he chews with his mouth wide open, making the nastiest sounds humanly (trolly?) possible just to gross you out.

It does.  

But it’s also hilarious as fuck.

You laugh and give him a light shove.  “You’re so nasty, bro!”

He swallows his mouthful and rolls his eyes at you.  “If that’s not a classic case of the pot calling the kettle pitch.”

“Do you mean...black?  Because that’s the saying.  Pot calling the kettle black.”  

“That’s what I just fucking said.”

“No, you said pitch.”

“Whatever.”  He shrugs.  “I meant black, then.  Sorry my memory is complete shit when it comes to your human idioms.”

He picks a kernel out from between his sharp looking teeth with his even sharper looking nails.  “Even though it failed to deliver on its promise of getting my tongue off, this popcorn’s good.”

“Thanks, I microwaved it.”  You pop a couple pieces in your mouth.  “What are we watching?”

Every Saturday, you spend the night chilling at home and watching a movie with Karkat.  It started out right after the big welcome back bash you threw for him, also known as the night you officially became friends.  You’d made him marathon Star Wars with you, because somehow Karkat had managed to go his entire life without consuming a single piece of Star Wars media up until that point.  

He liked it more than you’d hoped he would.  You swear there were fucking stars in his eyes by the time you’d finished the last one.  He turned to you and asked if there were more.

And of course, you said yes.  While trying to keep a straight face, you mention that there are prequels.  A whole trilogy about Darth Vader’s life and his descent to the dark side.  Did Karkat want to watch it?

Fuck, you had to try so hard to keep from laughing your ass off when Karkat emphatically said yes.  

It was late by that point, already past midnight.  You told him that might be a thing to do next week, if he didn’t have anything planned for next Saturday already.

He didn’t.  

And so was the birth of Saturday Movie Night.

“Hitch.”

“Okay, cool.”  You nod.  “I mean, we already watched Troll Hitch, but if you wanna ogle every variation of  Will Smith in existence for another hour and however fucking long then sure, I’m down for it.”

His face flushes as he shoots a glare at you.  “Shut the fuck up, I never say shit about your inane Ben Stiller fixation.”   

“Dude, I didn’t mean anything about it, it’s chill.  Nothing to get so defensive about.  Besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t fucking love Zoolander, because if you did say that you would be a dirty lying fuck and we both know it.”  You toss a piece of popcorn at him.  “Now start your movie.”

You watch the movie and try your best not to talk all the way through it like how Karkat hates.  You do throw in a kind of relevant comment here and there, though, mostly because there’s no way someone could expect you to be quiet for a whole hour.  Karkat seems to get this about you, and only shoots you mildly annoyed looks throughout the movie’s run.  

When the movie’s over, Karkat takes it out and puts in the next one.  It’s a troll movie, so you don’t bother asking what the title is or trying to pay much attention to the absurdly over complicated plot. The popcorn’s already finished by the time this movie starts.  Karkat’s asleep about halfway through the second movie.  You put the empty popcorn bowl in the kitchen, turn off the tv, and quietly sneak to bed so you don’t wake him up.

All in all, it’s a pretty average movie night.  A little under average, actually.  Karkat doesn’t usually fall asleep during it.  Still, not a particularly remarkable night.

Which is exactly what you tell Rose when she asks you about how your day was yesterday.  You finish it off with a shrug and watch her stab her fork into part of an omelet as you wait for her reply.

“You know, it’s funny,” she says thoughtfully, “whenever I ask either of you how your day was, you both mention that.  Honestly, at this rate we should just invite him to brunch with us.  It would save me from having to hear about the same mundane event twice.”

“Yeah, like fuck I’m gonna invite him to our sibling brunch.”  You snort, stuffing a pancake into your mouth.  “This is a family only event.  Not like you try to invite Kanaya to this ever.”

“You’re right, I don’t try to invite Kanaya to this ever.”  Rose nods.  “Although, I have to wonder why you used my girlfriend in your example of people I wouldn’t invite to sibling brunch.”

You down your pancake with a gulp of apple juice.  “I don’t know, she’s the first person I thought of.”

She smiles and wiggles her eyebrows at you.  “A likely story.”  

“I don’t think I like what you’re implying, Rose.”

“Just because you don’t like it doesn’t makes the implication any less true.”   

“Karkat’s just my friend, Rose.”

“And I don’t doubt that.”  You raise a suspicious eyebrow at her  “But until recently you did despise him quite a bit.  Your feelings towards him seem to be easily swayed.  Or maybe, much like when you had that crush on John throughout high school, you’ve been misinterpreting your feelings this whole time.”

“Have I ever told you how much I hate you psychoanalyzing me?”

She sips her tea and smirks.  “Only every day.”

“Well, I do.  I really fucking do.”  You reply, stabbing part of a pancake.  “As usual, you’re overreaching with my dick and making accusations based on fuckall nothing just to mess with me.”

“True.”  She nods.  “Most of my analysis is usually only semi-serious, but you and I both know I include at least a grain of real analysis in there, if only to keep you on your toes.”

You roll your eyes at her.  “Okay, fine, I’ll bite.  What’s your grain of real advice in accusing me of having a crush on Karkat?”

“You tend to ignore your feelings until they’re too strong to be forgotten about anymore, and then you act on them without thinking, which never ends well for you.  Even if you don’t have a crush on Karkat now, or you never have a crush on him, I still think you should try to keep yourself aware of your emotions surrounding your new and drastically different relationship.”

That’s….not terrible advice.  Fuck.  “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t nor will I ever have a crush on Karkat.  He’s my friend and not my type.”

“Since when did you have a type?”  Rose snorts.

“Since nunya.”

She takes the bait. “Nunya?”  

“Nunya fucking business.”

You finish off brunch and take Rose back to your apartment so she can do her book club thing with Karkat.  They got back into doing that the week after the party, when Rose let Karkat read whatever project it was that she was working on.  Karkat told you all about it at one point, he seemed like he was really into it. You told him to tell Rose about what he thought and not you, since she was the writer and you had no idea what he was talking about.

They talked on the phone for a solid hour, during which they decided to resurrect their failed book club from high school and drag the smelly rotten club corpse back to Karkat’s room to stay indefinitely.

By which you mean they get together once a week and talk about books or something.  You actually don’t know what the fuck their book club activities were, you never went to a meeting.

Karkat drags Rose to his room as soon as the two of you step through the door.  Aside from a welcome back nod, you get no acknowledgement.  His door slams shut, and you may as well be alone in the apartment.  

At this point, there are a couple things you could do with your valuable time:

You could do something productive, like start up on some homework early or clean your room or something.

Or….

You could take a nap.

God, with all these pancakes stuffed inside you, you don’t know how there’s even a decision here.  Clearly this is the perfect opportunity for some choice couch naps.  

You get yourself situated on the couch with something on for background noise when you get a text from John’s dad.  He’s decided to donate some of John’s older but still nice clothes to charity and wants to know if you have any that you wouldn’t mind him taking.  Of course, there’s no obligation to do so if you don’t want to.  

So of course you’re going to do it.

You get up and start shuffling off towards your room.  On the way there you bang on Karkat’s door and you tell them that you’ll probably be in your room sorting clothes when it’s time for Rose to go.  

You spend about twelve minutes taking clothes out of your closet and tossing them onto the bed for further scrutiny.  By minute thirteen you get distracted by some of the other shit you’ve thrown in your closet.

You’re sitting on the floor and laughing your ass off as you dig through a box of old photos and comics you’d written during school.  You were even more hilarious than you remembered.  You’ve gotta give younger you some credit, all this shit is pure motherfucking gold.  You don’t know how long you’re reminiscing when you’re disrupted by a knock on the door.

“It’s open!”  You shout as you crawl out of your closet and stand up.

The door opens just enough for Karkat to poke his face in.  “Can I come in?”

“Sure, whatever.”  You shrug.  “Where’s Rose?”

“She went home a couple minutes ago.”  He replies as he closes the door behind him.  She said she had some other more important shit to do.”

Karkat surveys your room slowly, taking in the whole mess of it.  You’re suddenly aware that Karkat’s never been in your room before now.  It shouldn’t matter, but god you’ve never been more aware of how much of a disorganized mess your room is.  

He looks at you and smirks.  “I see you’re really busting your ass organizing your extensive wardrobe in here.”

“What can I say?  Shit’s boring, I got distracted.”  You toe your box of mildly interesting junk into his line of sight.  “I’m only human, dude.”

“As if that’s an excuse.”  Karkat says, rolling his eyes.  “Do you want any help, or are you determined to waste your whole day on this one shitty, simplistic task?”

“I’m cool with doing it myself, but I’m not opposed to you helping.”  You shrug again.  “As long as you don’t start belting out Marina and the Diamonds lyrics or whatever the fuck you’re listening to like every other time you do a chore.”

His brow knits together in a quizzical look as he joins you by the closet.  “What the fuck are you talking about?  I don’t do that.”

Wait.

Wait….

Does he not know?  That he fucking does that?

How could he not?

But...the confusion on his face seems so genuine.  Is he really not aware?

“Yes you do?  Bro, you holler like a velociraptor during mating season.”

“What?  No I…”  he stops midsentence.  His eyes go distant for a moment as he replays memories of past chores in his head, the filter of his headphones removed.  His face darkens to a shade of grey tinged with red.  “...I do.  Holy fuck, how much of a situationally unaware shit pan could I be not to notice I was doing that?  And you just fucking listened to my tone deaf screeching this whole time?  Why would you willingly subject yourself to that, are you a masochist or some shit?   Are you getting off on my voice grating your auricular clots to shreds?  You’re some unique kind of fucked up, Dave.”

You have no idea how he reached this conclusion, but whatever.  “Okay, you caught me.  I get off on your sandpaper howl shredding my eardrums like sharp cheddar.  Sometimes while you’re screaming I like to pull the shreds out of my ear and sprinkle that shit on some Doritos and make myself a sick plate of tasty nachos.  Your voice is like broken glass under my fingernails and it gets me all hot and bothered inside.  When I masturbate I can’t finish without your malicious yodeling ringing in my ears.  It ducks me up in the worst way, dude.”

The embarrassed blush on his face creeps up to his ears and down his neck, his face grows a deeper shade of reddish grey.  “I know that’s your idea of a joke, but I hope to fuck you’re joking.”

“Nope.  I am completely one hundred percent serious.  You called to me like a siren, and now my dick is madly in love with you.”

He glares down at your crotch.  “Tell your nasty crotch I’m not interested in stale cocktail weenies.”

“Okay.  Just wait right here while I break it to the little guy.”  You bend down and bring your face as close to your crotch as you can get.  “Hey-”

Okay, that’s it you can’t.

Karkat bursts into a fit of giggles at the same time you do.

“Dave, what the fuck?”  Karkat’s covering his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle his own laughter.

“I don’t know, man.”  You really don’t.  You were just spouting your usual bullshit and you guess it got a little sillier than usual.  “So are you ready to pitch in with my threads or are you just gonna keep distracting me like an asshole?”

“Oh, like you were so productive before I got here.”  He rolls his eyes.  “Yeah, I’ll help out.  Shove your ass over.”  

Karkat hip checks you so he can get a better look at your disaster area of a closet.  He starts rummaging through your clothes and pulling things out, holding them at arm’s length.  

“You know,” he says as he lays the clothes carefully on your bed, “you’ve got a fuckton of suits for a guy who’s surgically attached to a pair of ratty jeans.”

“Yeah.”  You nod as you pull out one of the suits in question.  “Guy’s gotta have at least one cool suit in case shit gets serious or if he just wants to look sweet and a little intimidating for no reason.”  

“That neon vomit monstrosity’s supposed to make you look intimidating?”  

“No, but it makes me look sick as hell.”  You lay it down with your other clothes.  “Or it did, anyway.  I haven’t worn it in awhile.  Fucker might not even fit anymore, I’ve gained muscle mass since then.”

You flex.

Karkat snorts.  “I didn’t realize you were working your stomach out, Dave.”

“You know what, fuck you.  It’s not like you have a perfectly toned physique yourself.”

“Yeah, but at least I live my dough bodied truth.”  He strikes his own pose and gestures down at his stomach and thick legs.  You look him up and down and nod approvingly.

“You definitely look confident.”  

And he’s honestly not bad looking.  In your opinion as his friend.  He’s got a body that looks fucking perfect for cuddling.  

“Looks can be deceiving, Dave.”  He straightens back up and pulls something else out of your closet.  “Where’d you get all these suits, anyway?”

“Most of them are from John’s dad, I think at least one’s from my mom.”  

“John’s dad?”  Karkat questions.  “Why would John’s dad buy you suits?”  

“I mean I did live with the guy for a couple years.  He’s basically my dad, too.”  

The first year you lived with John and his dad was the same year Karkat came to town.  

“I think I remember that.”  Karkat nods.  “I thought John was your brother for awhile.”  

You laugh.  “Really?  You thought John was my brother?”

“Well yeah, what the hell else was I supposed to think?  Your stupid human relations shit is way more complicated than I’d originally thought when I came here.  It was confusing.  Still is, sometimes.”  He admits.  “Why were you living with them, anyway?”

“Some stuff happened with my bro that I’d rather not get into.”  You admit.  “Rose and my mom were the only family I had left, but they lived across the country and it was decided that uprooting me completely wasn’t in my best interest.  John’s dad offered to take me in for the rest of the school year so we could all finish  before any more major shifts happened.  My mom got here near the beginning of summer and I moved in with her, but I still spent most of my time at John’s because I was more comfortable there.”  

“Oh.”  Karkat says. “I didn’t know any of that.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly a well known fact about me.”

Fuck, you owe Mr. Egbert so much. He’s such a great dude.   How will you ever repay him for everything he’s done for you?  

“So,” Karkat puts down one last piece of clothing and takes a step back to look at the pile on the bed, “which of this shit are you gonna get rid of?”

“I don’t know.”  You shrug.  “I guess whatever’s got holes or doesn’t fit.”

Karkat gives you a sideways glance, a sly smile on his face.  “Dave are you saying…?”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m saying.”  You nod.

“Fashion show?”  

“Fashion show.”

You send your audience, Karkat, back out into the living room so you can change.  You start pumping up some runway music and throw on some of the clothes from the pile on your bed.  Just like that, you’re ready for the most cliche outfit montage of your life.

You step out of your room,  I’m Too Sexy by Right Said Fred blasting from your stereo as you exit in the most dramatic and modelesque way possible.  You do your best sexy shimmy walk all the way down the hall and over to the couch where you left Karkat waiting impatiently for you.

“So,” you strike a pose that you believe is mildly sexy and extremely embarrassing for you, “what do you think?  You like what you see?”

He wrinkles his nose at you in fake disgust.  “Not at all.  Clothes look alright, though.”

“Cool.  Keeping these ones.”  

You strut back to your room and start the whole process over again.  Occasionally Karkat gives you scathing comments about your ridiculous fashion sense.  Usually he just laughs at your over the top modeling.  One or two times, you get a genuine compliment.

You go out in your neon vomit green suit, it’s a little tighter than you remember, but honestly you’re surprised it still fits at all.  You drape yourself over the coffee table and give Karkat the best smoldering look you can muster.  “Paint me like one of your French girls, Karkat.”

He looks you up and down with such a serious expression that it makes you blush a little for making such a stupid entrance.  

“Shit,” Karkat finally sighs, running a hand over his mouth,  “you look fucking great.”

You’re so flustered by his unexpected compliment you don’t know how to respond.  “I’m sorry, what?”  

“Yeah.  Fuck you, if I’d known you could clean up so nice I would have demanded you  dress at least better than a rabid hobo in public.  I mean that suit’s ugly as fuck and the color makes my bulb’s water but you make it work somehow.  I hate how much you’re pulling this fabric disaster off, Dave.  Really, I do.”

“Thanks,”  you finally manage to reply.  Then, because you’re an idiot, “wanna watch me really pull this fabric disaster off?”

“Oh, yeah, Dave, do that. Please take off your pants and expose your chicken bone legs for my viewing pleasure.”  He starts fanning himself.  “Fuck, I’m getting hot and bothered just thinking about your strip tease.  Don’t even think about popping a button off of your god awful shirt near me or I swear to fuck I’ll swoon right off this couch and onto the edge of the coffee table, probably causing a botched lobotomy in the process.”

“You’re saying I’m literally so hot right now I make you lose brain function?”  You grin as you toy with the top button of your shirt.  “Oh, Karkat, you flatter me.”

Karkat gives you a small shove.  “Go back to your block, asshole.”

You do.  You go right back into the fashion show and pretend you didn’t just do that.  Because what the fuck?  Was that shit you just pulled?  Was that you trying to flirt?  Gee Karkat you like my clothes?   Here let me take them off for you.  Stupid.  Stupid.  What the fuck?

You shake your head and start to change.  The suit is laid on a pile of clothes you want to keep.

The fashion show continues, and everything is the same as normal in regards to Karkat’s reactions to your clothes and terrible posing.  

“Your clothes are too tight.  Your shirt looks like it’s cutting off circulation, how the fuck did you even get that on?”

“What are you doing with your leg, Dave?  Put that fucker down.”

“Who let you buy that?  Who the hell even made that?  That fabric is woven from curses and bad acid trips, you need to burn it.”

The only exception is when you show off a suit.  

“Oh wow, holy shit, you actually look decent.  How dare you.”

“Can you look less good in that nasty ass color?  Thanks.”

“Dave, seriously, you’re not allowed to own this many suits and look so fucking good in them just to have them all waste away as moth food in your dirty closet!  Stop dressing like trash and wear these, you dick!”

“...I should get a suit.”

You stop pretending to model and take on a more casual stance.  Your hands are shoved into your pants pockets.  “You know, maybe you should.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “with what money?”

“I mean,”  you spread your arms wide, “you could take one of mine?  I’m probably only gonna keep the green one for me.”

Karkat still looks unconvinced.  “You do realize we’re completely different sizes, right?  You’re aware of that?  I’d split your suit in half trying to fit my doughy fat ass in your skinny high school pants.”

“Uh, it’s called a tailor, you dumb bitch?  I’m not just gonna make you squeeze yourself into my pants like a fucking human sausage.  We can get the thing fitted for you, dude.”

“Isn’t that a lot of money?  That I don’t have?”

“Yeah, probably?  I don’t know for sure man, but if you’re that fucking concerned about cost I’ll cover it.  You can consider it a wriggling day present.”

“That’s still a lot of money, Dave!  I can’t let you spend a shit ton of money on me.  I’ll just wait until I can afford to buy one myself.”

“Why, though?”  You ask.  “We have suits here right now, why bother waiting?  If you’d rather not take it as a present then you can pay me back for half later.”

Karkat tilts his head.  “Half?”

“Yeah. It’s not like I bought this suit for myself.  I haven’t spent a dime on this shit, and I’m guessing the cost won’t  be too fucking devastating between the two of us.”

Karkat considers your offer carefully.  “I still don’t like that idea, but I’ll take it.  Give me your least obnoxious suit.”

“That’s gonna be tough.”  You admit.  “I have a black one you might be into?”

You decide not to mention the iron-on patch of a butt you put on the lapel.  It shouldn’t be too hard to remove, you hope.  

“I’ll take that one.”

You finish off the fashion show, and Karkat helps you pack up most of your old stuff into a box for Mr. Egbert to take.  When he arrives to take your things, you ask him if he knows a good tailor you could talk to about getting some alterations done.  When asked for more information about it, you explain that it’s for Karkat.  He gives you a look that you can’t read very well and says it’ll be easier if you give the suit to him.  You fold up the suit and place it on top of the box so it doesn’t get mixed up with the items inside the box.  Mr. Egbert thanks you and ruffles your hair.  

Well, that ends that.  You go back to your room to put what remaining clothes you have away.

“Hey, Karkat!”  You yell from your doorway.

“What?”

“I just realized I gave away over half my wardrobe.  Can I borrow some of your clothes for awhile?”

You rock some of Karkat’s clothes for awhile before you get some new ones of your own.  Up until then (and a little past that) you steal his sweaters and sometimes his pants, both of which you have to roll up.  

Damn if you don’t look good, though.  

Unfortunately you can’t even mention how much you like wearing Karkat’s clothes without getting looks from people.  Rose and Kanaya you understand, because for some fucked up reason Rose still thinks you may be developing a crush on Karkat unconsciously and has somehow dragged Kanaya into her theory.  But John?  Fucking John?  He keeps giving you these big goofy smiles like he knows what you’re really talking about.

Which is ridiculous.  Because you really are talking about how warm and nice Karkat’s sweater is.   

You’re not using his sweater as a metaphor for your feelings for him.

Fuck everybody.

The only benefit you got from all this Karkat discussion is that now you’re pretty good at changing the subject.  During one of these sudden subject shifts, Rose teaches you a new game she’s been playing with Kanaya recently.  She’d developed it to help strengthen her relationships with others (specifically Kanaya) and to learn things she may not have otherwise.  

The game is simple.  You tap twice on someone’s hand and ask them a question.  The other person has to answer the question immediately without leaving them enough time to overthink their answer, ensuring the most honest response possible.  

As an example, she taps on your hand.  “Dave.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your opinion on apple juice?”

“I fucking love it.”

Perfect.”  She takes her hand back. “And that’s how you play.”

She calls it a stream of consciousness game.

Depending on how it’s played, it can be very informative or very intimate.  

You and Karkat play it in as many ways and as many places as you can.  

You’re sitting on the bus with Karkat on the way to Troll Foods.  

Tap tap.

Karkat takes out an earbud.

“Do you miss Alternia?”

He blinks, surprised by your question and maybe more surprised by his answer.  “Not as much as I thought I would.”

You and Karkat are getting ready to watch a movie.  

Tap tap.

“Yeah?”

“How come you’re always wearing shades?”

“Aesthetic.”  You shrug.  “And my eyes are sensitive, too much light hurts them.”

Tap tap.

“Who do you think would win in a fight, Vampire Vin Diesel or a Werewolf Will Smith?”

“Depends on who bites first.”

Tap tap.

“How much ice cream is too much ice cream?”

“If you buy more than two gallons you don’t get to be in charge of the food budget anymore.”

“What about frozen yogurt?”

“Only two gallons!”

“What if I get two gallons and a pint?”

“Dude, please.”

And on and on like that whenever either of you are particularly bored.  You’ll admit, the game is more interesting than you thought it would be.

About a month after you gave Mr. Egbert your clothes, he comes by the apartment with a package for Karkat.  You try to take the package from him, but he says he’d prefer to give it to Karkat himself and see him try it on to make sure it fits.

You invite Mr. Egbert inside.  “Karkat, John’s dad is here with your suit!”

You hear some thumping in his room, followed by Karkat racing out of his room and to both of you.  Karkat’s eyes are huge with excitement as he holds out his hands.  Mr. Egbert hands him the package without a word, and Karkat runs back to his room with it.

You wait in the hall with Mr. Egbert while Karkat changes.

“How have you been, Dave?”  He asks.

You shrug.  “Can’t complain.”

“You’ve been taking care of yourself?  Eating well?  Sleeping?”

“Yeah.”  You nod.  Granted, you’re not eating quite as well as he’d want you to, but you have enough ramen to cover three square meals a day and sometimes Karkat tries to make real food.  You stare straight ahead at Karkat’s door in case he could tell you’re technically lying.  “I think I’ve been doing okay.”

Karkat exits his bedroom, fiddling with a tie that he seems to be struggling to make live up to its name and actually tie.  

“Karkat, you look like you’re having trouble with that.”  Mr. Egbert gestures for him to come closer.  “Let me help you.”

Karkat walks over to him obediently and takes his hands off the tie.  Mr. Egbert ties it with deft fingers, tightening and straightening it carefully so it’s perfect.  

“There you are.”

“Thank you.”  Karkat takes a step back and turns to you.  “So?  How do I look?”

There’s no other way to describe what he’s wearing other than as a plain old black suit.  The buttons and his tie are grey.  You note that your iron on ass patch has been removed.  It’s a completely normal suit, nothing inherently special about it.  But-

“You look amazing.”

He taps your hand.  

“Karkat, I mean it, honestly.”  You laugh.  “Really, you look great.  Fucking superb, you’re really rocking the shit out of that suit.”

Karkat’s beaming.  God he’s so happy to have this fucking suit.  And he should be happy to have it, he does look amazing!  Really amazing!  Fucking hot, even!

Fucking hot in a totally platonic sense.  

Obviously.

“You look good.”  Mr. Egbert nods in agreement. “It looks like it fits well.”

“It does.”  He’s smiling down at the floor and fidgeting with one of his sleeves.  “Thank you.”

“Well, that’s all I came here for, so I suppose I’ll leave you two alone now.”  Mr. Egbert announces.  “Remember to call me if you need anything.”

“Oh, okay.  I’ll walk you out.”  

Karkat goes back to his room, probably to change back into his old clothes.  “Bye.”

You start walking to the door with him, which is actually a completely unnecessary gesture because you were only like ten feet away from it to begin with.  

“So, uh...”  you say as you open the door for him, “how much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.  The alterations were completely free of charge.”

God, he’s such a horrible liar.  But you’re not gonna call him out for it.  If he wants to do something nice for you guys then you’re not going to stop him.  

You will, however, sneak some money to John to sneak to his dad later.  

“Wow, that’s a pretty sweet deal.”  You say, pretending to believe his obvious lie.  “Thank you for doing this.  And hey, come over whenever you want!  We’d love to have you over more often.”

“Of course.  I might take you up on that, Dave.”  He starts to leave, but once he’s halfway out the door he takes a deep breath and turns around again.  “I’m glad you’re both doing so well, you and Karkat seem very happy together.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “we are.”

He gives you another quick nod and exits.  You close the door as you watch him walk disappear down the hall and to the stairwell.  

That was...a weird thing he said just now.  A nice sentiment, yeah, but weird as hell.  You can’t put your finger on why it was weird, though…

You brush some hair out of your face, and part of your sleeve unrolls and rubs against your face.  That’s when you remember that you’re wearing one of Karkat’s sweaters.

Then everything clicks.

You’re wearing Karkat’s clothes.  You pretty much told Karkat that you thought he looked hot right to his and Mr. Egbert’s face.  Karkat was blushing the whole time like an anime school girl.  You gave Karkat the suit as a present.

Oh.

OH. 

He thinks you’re dating.  

John’s dad...the guy who is probably the closest thing you have to a dad...pretty much just told you he supports your relationship with Karkat.  A relationship that you don’t have.  Because you don’t have a thing for him at all.

Obviously.

You get another full night of telling yourself that before something else happens to seal your fate.  

You’re pulling an all nighter on some homework due Monday that you’d neglected to start sooner.  In order to keep yourself awake, you’ve been alternating between downing energy drinks and cups of coffee.  At one point you tried to put an energy drink in your coffee, but that tasted like puke and you physically couldn’t bring yourself to choke it down.  

Somehow, you manage to finish all of your homework.  Granted, it’s mostly half assed and probably wrong, but the point is you’re done with it now and deserve sleep.  You get ready for bed, yawning the entire time you do so.  God, you’re exhausted.  

You yawn again, this time you catch a whiff of your breath and cringe.  Your breath smells like shit.  If you breathed directly into someone’s face you could probably kill a man.  Running your tongue across your teeth verifies that not only is your breath horrible, but your teeth are fuzzy like they’re covered in a layer of moss.  

Maybe you should brush your teeth before bed.

You drag your feet towards the bathroom.  It’s a little weird that the bathroom door is closed, but you don’t think anything of it until you turn on the light.

“AH!”

“AH!”  You cover your eyes and slam the door.

“Why would you just walk in unannounced like that, asshole?”

“Why are you taking a bath with the lights off?”

There’s silence from the other side of the door for a minute.  Then Karkat’s voice comes through the door, almost too quiet for you to hear.  “Did you come in for something, Dave?”

“Yeah, I...I wanted to brush my teeth before bed.  It’ll be a quickie, I promise.”

“You’re just getting to bed?”  Karkat asks incredulously.  “Dave, what the fuck?”

“Hey, I was doing my homework!  What’s your excuse?”

“I have insomnia.”

“Okay, fair.”

He sighs.  “You can come in and brush your dirty nubs now if you want.  Just don’t look over here.”

“Okay.”  You cover your eyes and start opening the door.  “I’m coming in.”

Karkat snorts.  “Yeah, I know, dunkass.”

You walk in.  This time you’re not surprised by the sight of your roommate in a bath.  The shower curtain is pulled tightly closed, all that’s visible is Karkat’s silhouette.  

Somehow that’s almost worse.

You open the medicine cabinet and pull out the toothpaste and your toothbrush while trying your best to not to so much as glance in his direction.  It’s a little more difficult than you were expecting it to be.  You can hear the water move, splashing in tiny waves against the porcelain as he shifts into a more comfortable position.  You can hear his breathing, his sighs at having to share such a close space with you in what is now definitely an awkward and unwanted moment.  

You run your toothbrush under the tap.  You continue to try not to look over his way, but you keep just barely catching yourself in the act.

It’s unbearably quiet in here.

“So,” you say casually in an attempt to break the tension, “it smells funky in here.”

Holy shit, was that the best you got?  It smells funky in here?  What the fuck?

“It’s an Alternian ablution mix.”  

Oh, he responded to that stupid thing you said.  Nice.

“An ablution mix?”  You squirt some toothpaste on the brush.  “So like, bath salts or something?”

“It’s closer to bubble bath.  Here,”  He sticks a wet grey arm out from behind the shower curtain and feels around on the floor before his fingers find a medium sized plastic bottle, “you can read the bottle if you want.  There’s an English translation on the side.”

You take it, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the bathroom door so you don’t accidentally peek anything you’re not supposed to be looking at.  You study the bottle while you brush your teeth.

The bottle is clear plastic and filled almost all the way to the top with a vibrant green fluid.  It’s a little thicker looking than most bubble bath soaps you’ve seen.  The label is extremely colorful, swirled with purples and bright reds and greens that clash and almost hurt your eyes to look directly at.  The Alternian on the front is written in bubble letters.  Underneath it in a tiny font is the English translation Karkat mentioned in parenthesis.  

“Soapor Bubbles.”  You mumble around your toothbrush.  “Isn’t sopor illegal here?”

“Concentrated sopor in high quantities is, yeah.”  Karkat replies.  “Which is total hoofbeast shit.  It’s a sleeping aid!  Just because some people like to ingest it and speed up their pan rotting doesn’t make it a completely harmful substance!  But no, humans decided to be idiots about it and make it illegal to use in the way it was intended.  Fucking idiots.”

“Okay, so what’s this, then?”

“It’s sopor diluted with some other natural shit for use in ablution traps.”  He explains.  “The bottle says it’s the highest concentration that’s legally allowed on the planet, or at least on this part of the planet, right now.  And using it in a trap like this is supposed to help simulate how it’s used in recuperacoons back on Alternia.  I don’t usually give a shit about soporific products because they do absolutely fuck all for me, but this one’s new so I thought I’d try it out.”

“Oh.”  You finish brushing your teeth and spit into the sink.  “Is it working, then?”

“I don’t know.” Jesus, you can practically hear him roll his eyes.  “Some prick interrupted me before I had a chance to relax.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll get out of your ass.”  You set the bottle down by the tub.  “Goodnight.”

You go straight to your room and collapse onto your bed.  You can’t sleep, and not just because of all the caffeine still buzzing through your system.  

You can’t stop thinking about Karkat.  

That split second where you saw him in the bath.  

Okay, you didn’t see much.  You saw his chest.  But that was more than you’d ever seen before.  

His anatomy was a little different than you were expecting, but it shouldn’t have been much of a shock since you’ve seen trolls take their shirts off (and way more) on tv before.  It was just...different because it was Karkat’s.  

His chest looked so smooth.  Part of you wishes you’d touched it.

Another part of you wishes you’d seen more.

You curl up on your bed and groan into a pillow.  Fuck, what’s wrong with you?

You’ve been trying to avoid it for a long time now, but you don’t think you can anymore.  This isn’t the first image of Karkat you’ve burned into your memory and dwelled on in the middle of the night.  

Karkat smiling, his nose wrinkling every time he laughs at something stupid you said or a joke you made.  Karkat, chewing on his bottom lip and brow furrowed in concentration, eyes out of focus as he’s completely lost in thought.  Karkat rolling up his sleeves up to his elbows before he works on anything.  

Karkat, wearing a suit for the first time, face flushed with excitement and embarrassment and asking you how he looks.

And now this.

No, tonight wasn’t the first time you’ve thought about Karkat in a way that’s more than strictly friendly.  Tonight’s experience was just more potent than they’ve ever been before.  

You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t think this was a long time coming.  This whole time, you’ve just barely been keeping the floodwaters of your feelings at bay, but this was the sudden crack that broke the dam.  Now they’re all spilling out of your subconscious mind and filling you up so you have no choice but to admit it.

You really do have a thing for Karkat.

Even though you’ve finally admitted your feelings to yourself, you manage to keep from revealing them to anyone else.  You don’t tell John, you don’t say shit to Rose, and you definitely don’t mention anything to Karkat.  Instead you keep it cool and act normal, as if nothing’s changed at all.  Because really, what has?  

You became aware of feelings you already had for Karkat.  Literally nothing is different now.

And for a few weeks, nothing changes.

Saturday Movie Night begins as normal.  You  and Karkat go to your local movie rental joint (gotta support your dying local businesses, you know how it is) and pick out a couple flicks.  Karkat tells you you’re not allowed to pick The Room three times in a fucking row or he’ll blow his gasket all over this place and you’ll have to bleach all the gunk out of this shitty retro carpeting.  You then ask him if gasket was his code for his troll load or what because that’s indecent as hell and probably illegal, Karkat, you could get arrested for that.  Then you pick out another movie.

You both head on home with your movies, talking and figuring out which movie you’re going to watch first and what snacks you would have with it, since you’d gone grocery shopping a couple days prior.  But when you round the street corner and saw your building, your plans for the night were put on hold.

From what you could see, there were no lights on in the whole building.

“Well that’s not frightening at all.”  You comment.

Karkat rolls his eyes.  “Here, you big wriggler.  Take my hand, I’ll lead you through the darkness and to the relative safety of our hive.”

You grab his hand.  “My hero.”

Karkat leads you through the dark building and up the stairs to your apartment.  Thank god for Karkat’s nocturnal vision.  He opens the door, and just for good measure you try to turn the lights on.  Of course, they stay off.

“Jesus, I think we’re having a building wide blackout.”  You sigh.  “Guess movie night’s cancelled this week.”

“This is a crockpot full of slow cooked shit.”

“I totally agree. We should probably hole up in the living room til the electricity’s back.  You head over there, I’m gonna go find some candles.”

You use the flashlight on your phone to help you navigate to the closet.  You find about two big candles and one of those little tea light candles held inside a little ceramic jack-o-lantern.  You gather them all up and start heading towards the living room, still using your phone as a guide.

Karkat is sitting on the floor and holding a tub of ice cream on his lap.  

You set the candles down on the table.  “Dude, what the fuck are you doing?”  

“If the electricity’s out, this shit’s gonna melt to a  soupy waste in a few hours.  We need to get our money’s worth out of this.”  He shoves a spoon into the ice cream.  “There’s another in the freezer if you want to get started on it.”

“Damn, sounds like I might have to.”  You dig a lighter out of your pocket and toss it over to him.  “Light these, alright?”

You head towards the kitchen.  Just as Karkat said, there’s another gallon of ice cream in the freezer.  You pop the lid off and stab a spoon into the full carton.  

There’s light when you walk back into the living room.  The radius is small, but the light bathes what little of the room it reaches with a warm, soothing glow.  You can see Karkat better now.  He’s sitting right beside one of the candles, his face caressed by the soft light.  

Seems like everything you heard about candle light being romantic as fuck was correct.

You swallow and tell your heart to calm the hell down.  Karkat’s literally sitting on the floor eating a gallon of ice cream.  What is there to freak out about?  Stop it.

You sit down on the floor across from him and break into your ice cream.  “I told you two gallons was way more than enough.”

“I still disagree.”  Karkat says, shoveling more ice cream into his mouth.  “We could’ve gotten more.”

“You’re really gonna say that?  Take a look at our current situation.  How the fuck would more ice cream be beneficial to us right now?  The only way I could think to make this predicament any fucking worse than it already is is if we added more ticking dairy soup bombs into the mix.”

“More ice cream would only be a negative in this exact situation.”  He counters.  “Just how many more times do you think this kind of dumb shit is going to happen?  Unless your answer is once every fucking week for the rest of our god awful lives, then I’ll accept that as a legitimate argument.  Until then, shut the fuck up and eat your ice cream.”

“I think you might have a legit problem with ice cream.”

He pops the spoon out of his mouth.  “No.”

“Fantastic counter argument.  I have no rebuttal to that.”

You both keep eating the ice cream.  You’re honestly getting no joy out of this whatsoever and are only eating it to prevent having to deal with a big puddle of rancid milk later.  Honestly, after this you’re probably never gonna want to eat ice cream again.

You get a good way through the gallon before you have to stop.  

“Karkat,” you groan as you flop onto the ground and hold your stomach, “I can’t go on.  I’m dying.  You’ll have to carry on for the both of us.  Here,” you slide your ice cream closer to him with your foot, “take it.  I believe in you and your weird alien dairy absorbing biology.”

He rolls his eyes at you again.  “You’re such a fucking grub, Dave.  What, you ate too much sweetened cow juice and now you have to take a nap because you gave yourself a tummy ache scorfing it down too fast?”

You nod.  “Yes, exactly that.”

“Lightweight.”  He scoffs as he lays down on the carpet next to you.  “At this rate we’re never gonna get through all this ice cream before it melts into garbage.”

“Yeah, especially with you apparently tapping out, you ice cream monster.”

“Hey, you quit first.”

You both lay there on the floor next to each other.  You watch the light from the candles shifting on the ceiling.  The movement is almost hypnotic, it takes your mind off of all the ice cream in your stomach, at least.

There’s a soft tap tap on the back of your hand.  “Yeah?”

“Have you ever been in love, Dave?”

“Jesus,” you laugh out of shock and turn your face to him, “what the fuck brought that on?”

He shrugs.  “I don’t know.  I was just wondering, I guess.”

“I don’t think so.  I’ve had crushes before, and I’ve dated some.  But...I don’t think I’ve been in love before.”

You tap tap on Karkat’s hand.  “What about you?  Have you ever been in love?”

“Fuck, yes.  I fall in love all the time.  Constantly.”

You tap tap on his hand again.  “Are you in love now?”

He blushes.  A small smile spreads across his face.   “ Maybe.  I don’t know for sure.”

Maybe.  Your heart sinks a little.  

You hate yourself for it.  You should be happy for Karkat!  He’s your friend!  He might be in love and that’s great.

It’s great.

Tap tap.

“Are you okay, Dave?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.  Stomach’s mellowing out, I think.”

He frowns.  You both know that’s not what he meant.  You clearly had something on your mind.  But technically you answered his question, and there’s nothing he can do about that.

Tap tap.

“Karkat, do you really think there’s any way we can eat all this ice cream?”

“Fuck no, but I’m ready to do it or die trying.”

You laugh.  “Okay, I can get behind that.  I think I can try eating some again.  Switch ice creams with me?”

“Yeah, okay.”  He sits up and trades ice creams with you.

You sit up and take small, experimental tastes of Karkat’s.  Your stomach protests a bit, but not as badly as before.  This is definitely something you’ll regret in the morning.

Tap tap.

“What’s your opinion on chocolate ice cream?”  

“Honestly?  A little overrated.  It’s alright, but out of the three classic flavors, it’s the shittiest.”

On and on, your night continues like this.  You eat your ice cream, ask questions, lay on the floor.  Time doesn’t feel like it’s moving, but your phone with its dwindling battery life and the dripping wax of the candles says otherwise.

Tap tap.

“When’s the last serious relationship you’ve had?”

“Define serious.”

“Seven months or longer.”

“Fucking never, then, I guess.”

Tap tap.

“You ever had a relationship you regretted?”

“Most of them.”  Karkat replies immediately.  “Probably Sollux the most.  We were on and off during high school, and that was mostly my fault.  I wasn’t sure what I wanted with him, my emotions were spread all over the goddamn grid like the lines weren’t even there.”

“Are you on with him now?”

“No.  We split up a few weeks before graduation.  We’re still friends, but I think we’re going to be staying off from now on.”

Tap tap.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“The greatest rapper/film director who ever lived.”

“Realistically.”

“An archeologist.”

Tap tap.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“A film critic.”

“Realistically.”

“A failed critic.”

Tap tap.

“Did you ever think we would be friends, Dave?”

“Honestly?  Not really.”

Tap tap.

“What was your worst heartbreak?”

“Wow, clearly I’ve been going easy on you.”  Karkat laughs.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Yes I do.”  He replies.  “And it’s alright, it was awhile ago I don’t really give a shit about it anymore.”

“Alright, if you say so.”

“It was the end of our sophomore year of high school.  At this point I’d known John for roughly a whole sweep.  I...developed a crush on him pretty early on-”

“-uh, yeah, I’d say.  It was pretty damn obvious.  Everyone and their fucking mom knew that.”

“-shut up!  Do you want to hear my story or not?”

“Sorry, yeah.  Continue.”

“The last week of school, I convinced myself it was the perfect time to uh...confess my feelings to him.  I spent most of the week going over what I would say in my head.  I had this whole horrible confession memorized.  I almost recited a poem, but I decided against it and fuck, that was the best decision I ever made.  I even went through different scenarios in my head over how I thought he might react.  Good ones where he said yes and agreed to a date with me immediately, and bad ones where he outright rejected me.”

“Sounds like you were prepared.”

“Yeah, I thought I was.  But of course, since life seems to enjoy fucking me over in the most sadistic way imaginable, I wasn’t prepared for what ended up happening.”

“What’d he say?”

“I don’t remember exactly what he said anymore, but it was along the lines of ‘thanks I guess’.  Then he left.”

“Whoa, wait, what the fuck?  He just left?  You were like ‘hey, I love you’ and he was like ‘cool, peace out’?  What the fuck?”

“That’s exactly what I thought!  I mean, we’ve talked about it since then and I get it now but at the time I just kept thinking ‘What the fuck?  What did I do wrong?’ and I spent the whole summer holed up in my hive replaying it over and over and whining to anyone who listened.”

“That’s...wow.  That was harsh.”

So that’s what happened to Karkat that summer.  And you guess that explains why he was so freaked out that one time he saw John that summer at the gas station.  God, you feel like such an asshole for being happy to not have him around at the time.

“Before you try to ask me about my worst heartbreak, same.”

“Same?”

“John.  Same.”

“You can’t just say same!  That’s not a real answer!”

“It is if I say it is.”  You counter, grinning.  “Same.”

“Fine.  Fine, whatever.”  Karkat huffs.  “I have no question, then.”

“It’s cool, I got one.”

Tap tap.

“Karkat,” whether it’s a whim, or because you can’t stop thinking about why Karkat would start a game with a question about your love life, or because you simply can’t hold yourself back anymore, you somehow ask an impossible question, “do you like me.”

His anwer’s immediate.  “Yes.”

“No, I mean…” god, this is embarrassing, “do you like like me?”

He bursts out laughing.  “Dave, what the hell?  Are you twelve?”

“Yes.”  

“Yeah,”  Karkat admits.  He rolls his eyes again, but the gesture’s ineffective because of his big goofy smile and the blush creeping across his face, “I like like you.  I like like you a lot.”

Tap tap.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Dammit, Dave, don’t be difficult!”  Karkat bangs a fist against your chest lightly.  “Do you like like me, too, or not?”

“Of course I like like you, too.”  You’re smiling like an idiot.  “I can’t believe you even felt like you had to ask that.”

“Well, you did!”  He counters, as if his feelings for you had been obvious.

Fuck, maybe they had been and you were just too blinded trying to hide your own feelings that you  hadn’t even noticed.

Tap tap.

“When’s the last time you kissed someone?”

Karkat gives you a devious look.  “It’s been awhile.”

“Do you want to change that?”

“Fuck, yes.”

And that’s all the coercement you need.  You practically fling yourself at Karkat, bumping your faces together in a way that is both embarrassing and slightly painful.  Your shared eagerness and awkwardness makes you both laugh.  Through a fit of giggles, your lips finally meet his.

His mouth is sweet and sticky and feels warm pressed against yours.  It’s amazing.  

It lasts all of three seconds before you both pull away.  You can’t concentrate on trying to kiss him because you can’t believe this is happening.  You’re both still laughing.  Karkat gives you another quick peck before nuzzling his face into your neck.  His face is warm against your skin.  He tap taps against your chest.

“So you really like me?”

“Karkat, holy shit.”  You laugh.  “We just kissed!  You really think you have to ask me that?”

“Shut the fuck up and answer my question, asshole.”

“Yes, Karkat, I like you.”  You can’t stop smiling, it feels so good to say.  “I really do.”

It’s a good night.

You wake up to banging at your front door and a sour feeling in your stomach.  That would be all the ice cream.  You crack open an eye and everything is so bright you have to squint.

All the lights are on.  “Oh, sweet, the electricity’s back.”

You sit up and stretch a bit because fuck, your back is sore as shit.  It feels like someone’s been tap dancing a lively jig across your spine all night long.  As you stretch, you notice something beside you stir.

It’s Karkat, fast asleep on the floor in an almost fetal position.  Just looking at him and remembering what happened last night is enough to bring a smile to your face.  He looks so sweet, asleep like that.  Speaking of sweet…

Seems like you and Karkat didn’t accomplish last night’s goal of saving the ice cream from soupification.  Over half of it went to waste after all.  

Oh well, can’t win them all.

Karkat’s snoring, you’re not sure how you didn’t notice that before.  It’s not a bad sound, but it’s loud.  Probably explains why you didn’t hear the knocking at first.  

Right, the door.

You scramble to your feet and fling it open.

There stands Rose, well dressed and annoyed.

“Fuck, I missed brunch!”

She nods.  “You missed brunch.”

“God, Rose, I’m so sorry,” you run a hand through your messy and currently kind of greasy hair, “there was a blackout last night so my phone’s been dead for awhile and my alarm’s on my phone so it didn’t go off and I didn’t wake up but fuck that’s no real excuse it’s an explanation at best I’m sorry.”

Rose sighs.  “You can tell me all about how you managed to miss brunch at our impromptu early to moderately timed lunch.  Go get changed into something presentable, I’ll wait.”

“Okay, cool.”  You nod and let her inside.  “Thanks, I’ll be quick.”

You run to your room just as Rose explores Karkat in the remains of last night’s events.  Knowing Rose, she’ll probably wake Karkat up.  As you pull on one of his sweaters, you wonder if he’ll tell her about anything that happened the night before.

“DAVE AND I KISSED YESTERDAY!”

Well, that answers that.

You run a comb through your hair and head back to the living room.  Rose is grinning smugly at you.

“What happened to ‘I don’t have a crush on Karkat’?”

You shrug.  “Lied.  Ready to go?”

“Yes.”  She nods before glancing over to Karkat.  “You should invite your boyfriend out to lunch with us, Dave.  Clearly we have a lot to talk about.”

Rose exits, leaving you to ask Karkat by yourself.

“So, uh…” you stare awkwardly at your feet, “lunch?”

He snorts.  “Sure.”

You wait for him to get changed into something that isn’t last night’s clothes.  It doesn’t take him very long, especially since he left his hair as is.

“Can you believe Rose just technically arranged our first date?”  You say incredulously as you lock the door behind you.

“I can’t believe she called me your boyfriend”  Karkat counters as you walk down the hall together.

“Well you are, aren’t you?”

It only seems to strike him then that this is true.  He smiles.

“Yeah,” Karkat takes your hand and squeezes it tightly, “I guess I am.”

[blueraith]

Trying something new

Typically I don’t outline a single damn thing with my writing. I write by the seat of my pants, the story goes where my fancy takes them. Which is super unorganized, hectic as all hell, and doesn’t really point to anywhere when one has writers block.

So, I’ve decided to kick that plan with my original stuff. Mostly because I already know I have a ton of worldbuilding done and characters created. All that’s holding me back is the actual plot. I have specific scenes I know I want to get to, and a few of them already written or at least planned out. All that’s left is the rest of the story. So, outline time. Not sure if I’ll be any good at the outline. I’ll just ramble my three acts out however it comes to me and reorganize from there.

Started on Act 1. Writing out even the synopsis makes me feel a little better at what I had thought was a lack of progress. I’ve been focusing a lot on the details of what a society of superpowered humans living among us would look like.

Such as, what happens when superheroes and supervillains cause untold amounts of property destruction? Who’s gonna pay for that? Why don’t superheroes have insurance?

Guys... why don’t superheroes have insurance? I mean, I definitely don’t plan to actually write a plot point around fucking superhero insurance, because that would be boring as all fucking hell, but it always bothers me in movies and comics, and TV shows, and cartoons that none of the gratuitous destruction is addressed or lampshaded at the very least. Beyond, you know, “people are ANGRY.” And then skipping over the rest.

And if your superhuman/human intermingled society is based on a premise that actual, real life superheroes and villains have been around for at least three generations, why wouldn’t those problems be addressed? And with those problems getting addressed, namely through regulation and government control, what happens when enough time passes that bureaucracy and corruption sets in? Political overreach and consolidation of power? In short, what happens when the ‘good guys’ get so used to the way things are, they start freaking out at all the ‘unregistered’ superhumans suddenly fighting them during what had been a run of the mill gas station robbery into something much more dangerous? What happens when moral panic, an overdeveloped sense of ‘us vs them’ sets in and what had once seemed reasonable, turns into people getting their basic rights stepped all over and trampled in the name of ‘safety.’

I’ve had a lot of time to try and figure out how the world I wanted to set my characters in would work. Largely based on my own life. The MC and her family are based on my family in the sense of structure. Three girls with parents. But, I decided for my own mental well being not to base her parents on my own too closely. God, that would be a little too much for me to deal with. I might make the love interest deal with my familial issues, I’m thinking on it. At any rate, I do want to base MC’s family issues on something I do, even still, have to deal with. And that’s namely an issue with radicalization, ‘us vs them,’ and an echo chamber affect. The point of the story is not to point out that ‘all regulation is bad and should be avoided.’ This aint no Ann Rand bullshit.

No, I’ve wanted to write a story for the longest time about a few things. One: a lesbian teenager that isn’t a story based entirely on romance, period pieces, the supernatural, or urban fantasy. Not to say that those genres are lesser or bad, they aren’t, but they’re a bit of a dime a dozen now, aren’t they? I know from trying to find shit to read myself that you get a little tired of the same damn thing. And if you can’t find something you want to read, why not write it yourself?

Two: I wanted to write a story about a healthy family dynamic. Mostly because I had a very unhealthy home life. Writing this is cathartic, and reveling in my own personal issues in the guise of ‘inspiration’ just kind of makes me ill thinking about it. More recently, I’ve been pushed to focus on this even more from hanging out in a variety of fandoms. Jesus, dude, there are a ton of LGBT kids with problematic home lives, which I suppose isn’t a surprise, but where I see an issue is that many of these kids end up glorifying the abuse in their own writing. Parents have no nuance to them in their stories, they’re either saints or horrific people who should get taken out and shot behind a shed. There is no in between, and it makes me wonder if the kids in our community knows what it looks like for their families to be human. To be good people, who make mistakes, but ultimately rise above them to create mature, lifelong relationships with one another. I don’t know what it’s like personally, but I sure will hell attempt to write it. If only to hope that such normalcy is actually out there for those of us unlucky enough not to grow up with it. We can rise above it, though. Hope that we don’t make the same mistakes our families made.

Three: We live in a world that’s far too swept up in being ‘right’ that we don’t make the time to figure out if what we are trying to do, on whatever side of the fence we live on, isn’t hurting someone else. And, if by some miracle some are aware of what they are doing, it’s become evident that they don’t care. No one wants to listen to one another anymore. I experience this in my own family. My mom’s convinced that I’m brainwashed by the liberal media. And this attitude is evident all over the place. Fox refers to the ‘liberal media’ like it’s a disease. And that polarizing idea is spread to people like my grandparents who refer to it in the same way. And I’m certain this is happening on the other side. How do we fix problems, or make progress, if we’re too caught up in trying to lambast the other side as ‘evil assholes intent on destroying EVERYTHING.’

That is to say that it’s not as if there aren’t people who are flat out right about certain issues. Such as basic civil rights for everyone. I’m not trying to paint the entire world in shades of gray. What I’d like to get at in this story is that certain topics, like superhuman regulation (you know... some of these folks are capable of mass destruction and murder), can be polarized from paranoia and fear. Suddenly, it isn’t just a matter of keeping these folks on a list and learning what powers they have and what they are capable of. Getting them on insurance to cover property destruction, or healthcare so that some of them don’t completely snap under mental illness if they so happen to develop it, and go on a rampage across their cities. It’s now trying to figure out what they can do for everyone else. ‘Hey, this guy has the strength of ten men. Why isn’t he doing more to help us all out?’ And now regulation has turned into conscription.

Basically, superpowers are a giant metaphor for gun control and how dumb everyone is getting about. Over regulation, under regulation. ‘Muh 2nd Amendment.’ ‘Protect the children.’ Sanity and compromise is no longer a part of the argument in many circles.

Superheroes in ‘The Guild’ are akin to the over-militarization of the police.

Unregistered superhumans are resented about as much as illegal immigrants and feared as much as terrorists.

And the entire concept of registering as a superhuman is turning into an increasingly gigantic privacy issue

Different ways corporate interests could help or hinder different superhuman issues. Like I said, this isn’t Ann Rand. Private Sector vs Government Programs are something I see argued about all the time in my family. They like to pretend the private sector has the answer for everything. ‘Unregulate everything and leave it to the free market!’ But that leads to just as many issues as government overreach, doesn’t it? It’s a problem we’ve seen play out during the Industrial Revolution, wasn’t it?

And you wouldn’t be able to control a bunch of superhuman people like you would ordinary folks. Beyond hiding that they have superpowers, what’s to stop them from grouping up, forming insular societies, and just taking over entire neighborhoods or districts? They have superpowers, the Guild has superpowers, but there isn’t a massive arms difference between the two like in real life, modern times we see between regular people and our military. What would be the pros and cons to an anarchist society of people who would be able to defend themselves from virtually anything in enough numbers?

Well, this is getting really long. Also, writing this out tells me I have a lot more worked out than I thought I did. I’ve got more stuff that I’ve thought about. Society wise as well as character arcs. Can’t change all this polarization without doing it on a personal level, right?

[hawkesvarric]

OC meme. 1, 17, 18, 25, and 39!

1. Your first OC ever?

Oh god, okay. The first one I can remember who wasn’t just a complete self-insert (not that there’s anything WRONG with that!) was for this mutant/superhero forum thing?? Her name was Juliet (lmao) and she was like the cheerleading captain, prom queen, Most Likely to Succeed, the whole nine yards, right? Except she was taken by some Vague Evil Science Group to be experimented on. Actually I think that bit was part of the group’s overreaching plot? Or idk, but anyways, then she became selectively mute and could essentially manipulate the wind? Maybe it was air in general but I remember she mostly used her powers to float and knock people over with her wind powers. And the only person in the group she communicated (non-verbally) with was the one on the team who could become a giant?? This is all I remember but yeah omg.

17. Any OC OTPs?

I know I had a few from my writing days, but only one comes to mind. T x W, I will never Forget. I don’t really ship any of my DA/ME/D&D babes with each other.

18. Any OC crackships?

Really, nothing romantically. I like to imagine my main two Shepards interacting a lot because Clover would just roll her eyes at all of Yancy’s.....Yancy-ness. And they’d eventually end up getting a couple of beers together, maybe even become buds. Sometimes I also try to imagine if my two main Hawkes, Tatiana and Gabriel, were related but then Kirkwall would’ve REALLY been fucked so lmao!!! Maybe I should try imagining my D&D babes in a party......oh god....

25. The OC that resembles you the most (same hobby, height, shared like/dislike for something etc?)

Ehh?? I’ve kind of gotten away from making my characters like me except in the ‘you get my insecurities’ and ‘you get my unspoken rage’ way. Probably Ron. He likes food, gaming, making bad puns, thinking WAAAY too much yet at the same time Not Enough about things, and the idea of an animal sidekick.

39. Introduce any character you want.

I’ll introduce my courier!! Her name is Fish Patterson. Yes, that’s her real name. Yes, she will punch you for making fun of it. She’s a tough cookie who really just wants to roam freely and not be bothered. Except some dummy shoots her in the head so that plan’s out the window. Her helping people along the way is definitely not a sign of kindness on her part, nope. Just...wanting to get it out of the way so she doesn’t have to deal with it later...yep, that’s it.

[maesonc]

I have a lot of feelings

About Star Wars the Last Jedi so like stop reading now if you don’t want spoilers.

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Last warning ⚠️

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Overall y’all I actually really enjoyed the movie. I liked the plot and expectation subversions (when they made sense) and generally just found the whole thing to be a fun space adventure movie.

Anywho, I’m not gonna talk about everything here but I want to get some stuff off my chest (both good and bad) and since some of my friends haven’t seen it yet I’m dumping my opinions into the ether for those of you have or haven’t seen it and just don’t care about spoilers.

So:

-I loved the opening moments with Poe. Hell I loved Poe overall! He’s still one of my favs and I think his brash actions are pretty in line for a dude who was tortured like maybe 3 days ago? And is still riding a high from blowing up the First Order’s death planet. Of course he’s gonna be cocky and overreach on things. He’s running on bravado, adrenaline, and a shit tone of fear. (Tho, admittedly, I think they forgot that he’s a kind person at his core and that just didn’t come through on screen) I love that the movie was setting him up to become a leader for the Resistance and gave him a bit of an arc to go through.

-(That being said the rebel plot line was contrived as hell. Like why the fuck couldn’t the Admiral just be like “so. Here’s the plan.” Poe was totally on board with it once Leia explained everything so there was no need to keep all of them in the dark???? Like. They didn’t think there was a mole on board the ship or anything they just knew the FO could track them through light speed. So why not tell the team? And then Poe could be like, “oh sweet, that’s good. And, since I don’t have to commit treason now, how about I tell you about our back up plan where we chase down this code breaker? Y’know, get a few more options on the table rather than just putting all our eggs in one basket.” Like 99.9% of the time Poe felt “off” was when he was going to the extreme with trying to protect the Fleet. So like have your characters communicate like normal fucking people and Boom! Problems solved! Poe gets to go with Finn and Rose on fun space adventures.)

(Side note: way to never fucking explain how the FO tracked the rebels? That hand waving bullshit annoyed me so much. If you’re gonna break a huge part of in universe logic and use it as a damn plot point then you sure as fuck better be ready to explain it!)

(ALSO! Why the hell didn’t the FO just crank up the engines a bit and cut the rebel fleet off earlier? Makes no god damn sense! Why would they go along with this drawn out slow chase bs? Snoke ain’t getting any younger here, Hux, get your shit together.)

-Moving on: I loved Rose, like, seriously, she’s adorable and a wonderful character and I’m so mad we got so little of Paige but damn was she a hero or what?? Anywho! Rose was wonderful in all her scenes. Good additions to the crew! I can’t wait to see more of her in the future.

(Pls axe that romance plot line tho it makes literally no sense)

-Finn was great and I continue to love him. His battle with Phasma was perfect okay? And that scene with the battling ram gun? Holy shit guys I was in tears as he flew towards that thing! (Tho it should have been Poe who saved him)

(Also the idea that he would be even vaguely chill about being stuck on a gambling planet with Rose when Rey and Poe are in danger is ludicrous. This is the same guy we saw straight up lie to the top leadership of the Resistance just to get a chance to save Rey.)

-I liked how Rey is referenced as the light rising to meet Kylo’s darkness. I actually found their force-discussions and interactions to be good and interesting. Tho that may in part be b/c I didn’t read them as romantic, just two people given an unprecedented amount of access to a stranger’s inner self and being fascinated by what they saw there. Much like how both Rey and Luke have, in their own time, been interested in/curious about the dark side. If it was intended to be romantic/sexual then that was ruined by pure context for me. I. e. The fact that the last time they interacted (which, by movie timeline/logic, was like maybe 2 days ago) they hated each other and for good reason. Rey watched Kylo murder Han and almost kill Finn. Two people who mean way more to her than Kylo could even with the weird force bond thing.

-Luke was also great. His actions all felt pretty solidly in character for me. The interaction btwn him and Yoda was so heartwarming if only b/c of how their relationship hasn’t changed one bit XD

Also his last scene!!! The two suns! So beautiful!

Other positives:

-Leia using the force!!

-That lightspeed scene. You know the one. Fucking breathtaking.

-They continued the trend of having a diverse cast of background characters.

-Chewy and Rey flying the Falcon and protecting the rebels

-Yoda! Still a BAMF and a little shit after all these years.

-Snoke’s death was out of left field but also awesome b/c it’s cemented Kylo as our big bad and this movie did a great job of showing him actively refusing to be redeemed by Rey. I loved that. Mostly cause I now get to see Rey kick Kylo’s ass later.

-“Reach out.”

-“Lifting rocks.”

-“Yeah I’ll hold.”

[a300lbman]

On This United Mess

This shit with United, huh? I don’t have a dog in this fight, but of course I’ve got some knee-jerk material here that I don’t want to waste. From a service-industry standpoint United clearly blew it, but it took the internet less than a day to make sure no cause would be without an angle.

Reports began coming in that Asian Americans were upset that Dr. Dao was selected to be removed from the overbooked flight, evidently this was seen as picking on the quiet minority. From what I can tell, that seems like an overreach, but as a member of the ‘majority’ I know I don’t get to decide what is racist and what is not. Still, I think it’s a fucking overreach. United claims there is a computer algorithm that determines the list of those to be bumped and if that is true, what were they to do if a minority customer was selected, draw again? If there is a video out there of a maniacal United crony spelling out how this was a plot against Asians, it would be a different story. I’m not convinced that is what happened, although the way United handled this entire situation doesn’t help their case.

Everyone has an angle, especially the trolls in the comments section. At least I hope they are trolls, but some are calling for United to press charges against him for not following policy… yeah, that’ll stick it to him!  As ludicrous as that is, there are many who support that stance. Anyone who would react that way surely has no place in the service industry and that’s why I am shocked that United let it go as far as they did. My guess is that it was an inexperienced supervisor or manager calling the shots, puffing out their chest and drawing a line in the sand. Unfortunately that’s not how it works, unless you plan on letting the internet settle it for you. Ask United's stock how that’s going…

You make it right, regardless of the insanity going on in front of you. I’ve had people cause bigger scenes for far less and you know what shut ‘em up?—taking care of the situation. Making it right, regardless of your thoughts on what “right” should be—that’s your job. You don’t work in the service industry to give people life lessons and direct society into being better. You work in the service industry because you either have no alternatives or you have a screw loose and actually enjoy helping people. Either way, you don’t get to throw a tantrum or get upset if your customers don’t follow your instruction. Arm-chair quarterbacks shout that they should have kept raising the monetary offer until someone volunteered. It shouldn’t be an afterthought, it sounds like a great fucking plan. If it made financial sense to bump customers to get flight crew to a destination, they should have been prepared to spend some money. Where is the algorithm for that!?

The order of operations determined that it was time to randomly select passengers for removal; you run your program, inform the customer, customer fights back, so you call the police. Tell any law enforcement officer in the country, regardless of rank or status, that there is an airline passenger causing a disturbance, that officer is going to come in hot, adrenaline pumping in preparation to thwart the next 911. You sick those freedom fighters on  Dr. Dao, that quiet Asian guy over there that won’t put up a fight, and the video shows exactly what you should have expected.

Now, instead of forking over more cash up front, they will be paying for this one for a while, losing out on more money than they would have by offering it to someone to catch another flight. It is outrageous to me that there are cries of racism being thrown into the mix, but it all boils down to the fact that this should have been handled differently from the very start. Now the internet found enough causes to rally together to keep this PR stunt alive indefinitely. I mean have you seen the meme’s coming out? Brutal.