#who the fuck writes a tenpage rant

[bronzeflower]

Who The Fuck Writes A Ten-Page Rant?????

Chapter 19: A Big Ol’ Birthday Party

Given that it was kind of ridiculous to try and wrap a goddamn coffee table, you just woke up earlier to replace the old coffee table with the new coffee table.

You were feeling a little anxious while wondering if Kanaya would like your gift, but you tried to rationalize it because you worked hard on that coffee table and Kanaya hated the old coffee table. She would definitely love your gift.

You ignored your worries by starting to cook some of Kanaya’s favorite meals-cluckbeast eggs made over easy with grubsauce, along with spicy sausages and toasted baguette bread with raspberry jam.

You did you best to cook the meal, but the over easy eggs turned out a little more over medium, and the sausages turned out a little burnt, but the bread turned out well, and you didn’t manage to burn that at all, which you were very proud of.

You put the meal on a plate with some jam and grubsauce on the side along with a glass of orange juice. You brought it to the table, where you made yourself a similar meal so that Kanaya wouldn’t feel bad about getting special treatment.

You added some flowers to the vase on the table and went to go wake Kanaya up. You honestly would rather let her sleep, but she hated sleeping in and she was really excited to set up her party.

So you went to her room, carefully opening the door and tiptoeing over the Kanaya's recuperacoon, where Kanaya was sleeping peacefully and somehow wasn’t woken up by all the pots and pans that were banging around in the kitchen while you were cooking.

“Hey, Kanaya,” You whispered as softly as you could which honestly wasn’t all that soft. “Wake up, I’ve made breakfast.”

Kanaya opened her eyes kind of blearily, blinked a few times, and looked a bit more awake after that.

“You made breakfast?” Kanaya asked, her voice a little groggy and rough from sleep. “I will rid myself of the slime currently covering me and get dressed before joining you.”

“Alright,” You left the room and put the last few finishing touches on breakfast and the table.

Kanaya soon entered the eating block. She was wearing her pajamas, which trolls don’t actually need, but they function as pretty comfortable clothing. Kanaya would probably change for the party, but, for now, comfy.

“This looks lovely,” Kanaya said as she sat down at the table.

“I did my best,” You responded, allowing Kanaya to start eating before you dug in so that you could see her reaction.

Kanaya went for the sausage first.

“How is it?” You asked a little nervously, hoping that you didn’t fuck up completely.

“Tasty,” Kanaya answered, and you felt pretty much all worries fall to the wayside.

The both of you ate your respective meals in relative silence, absorbed the food and the comfort of the atmosphere, both of you completely comfortable with the other’s company.

The food was better than you expected-the eggs weren’t burned, just cooked a little more than you meant to. The burned part of the sausages gave them a little extra flavor, and, of course, the toast tasted the way toast should taste. Obviously, the things that were sore-bought like the grubsauce, jam, and orange juice all tasted delicious as well.

Overall, it was a very nice breakfast.

Kanaya helped you clean up despite your protests that she shouldn’t be doing work on her birthday. But she insisted, so you begrudgingly allowed her to help out.

“Are you ready to get everything prepared for the party?” Kanaya asked after you were finished doing the dishes.

“One second, I have to give you your gift first. Or, well, show it to you because it was a little too big to properly wrap up and hand to you in any kind of practical way,” You said. “So, like, just kind of follow me to where I put your gift.”

“Alright, lead the way.” You guided Kanaya over to the living room and sort of dramatically gestured to the coffee table that you spruced up.

“You replaced the coffee table!” Kanaya exclaimed. “And the new one matches the decor! Oh, Karkat, this is beautiful. Thank you.”

“You flushed from the praise, and, feeling a bit bashful, muttered out a ‘no problem.’

After showing the gift, you and Kanaya began decorating for the party.

The both of you had previously picked out ‘Birthday Party’ decorations, which included streamers, balloons, fake animal corpses, and passive-aggressive signs telling people to clean up after themselves. Some of the decorations were more traditional for Wriggling Day parties, but that didn't really matter all that much because it was Kanaya’s party, and she could decorate in whatever way she chooses.

So you put the colorful streamers up, and you put balloons in random places along with the fake animal corpses. The passive aggressive were taped onto trash cans and tables, with particular attention paid to the snack table for those people who exclusive hang out by the snack table and then refuse to clean up after themselves.

After you and Kanaya decorated, the two of you started working on the food. You filled the snack table with cupcakes and salads and grubslices and potato chips and many other options, along with a large punch bowl in the center that someone would almost certainly spike with something. Because people loved to get trashed, regardless of the sign that said “If You Spike The Punch I Will Divide You In Half With A Chainsaw,” which was more aggressive than passive-aggressive, but that never stopped people from spiking the punch.

The main variable would be whether the punch was spiked with soda or alcohol. Probably both, if enough people decided that they wanted to get trashed. If a person gets too trashed though, you were going to kick them out. However, you did add a drink cooler in case people didn’t want to risk the punch.

The cake, of course, was kept in a separate spot from the snack table so that a big reveal could occur.

Soon, one person arrived. Then another and another and another until the party was in full swing. Many of Kanaya’s business associates were there, along with friends and friends of friends. Basically, there were lots of people that you did and didn’t know.

You opted to go talk to some people you did know, and you saw two people that you knew.

It was Stelsa, a fashion designer known for her unique and bold fabric and color choices, and Tagora, Kanaya’s textile supplier.

“Karkat! It’s been a long, long while! Why don’t you come chat with us?” Stelsa yelled. You liked her because she, too, had absolutely no volume control.

“Hey, Stelsa. Hello, Tagora,” You greeted, and Tagora offered a sleazy smile your way. He was a little weird, but he made the best quality and most ethnically-made textiles out there, which was part of the reason why his prices were so high.

“Greetings, Mr. Vantas. A pleasure to meet you once again,” Tagora said.

“Oh, cut the shit,” You rolled your eyes. “I already see you basically monthly to get new textiles from you. I’m pretty sure we’re far past these sorts of fake-as-fuck pleasantries.”

“Oh, wow, you’re much nicer when you’re at work,” Tagora pointed out.

“No shit, you soggy pile of cheese. I know about basic fucking decency.”

“Doesn’t seem like you know about ‘basic fucking decency' based on your current interactions.”

“Oh, go fuck your kismesis.”

Tagora blushed a bright teal. You knew that he does actually have a kismesis, and they’ve been in a committed relationship for a long while. You have heard many complaints about him, and it validates your skill in helping people with their relationships.

“Hey! Stop fighting!” Stelsa ordered. “I thought you two were friends!”

“We are,” You and Tagora chimed together.

“It’s just a friendship where we insult each other a lot,” You explained, and Tagora nodded.

“It’s completely platonic. After all, I am currently in a very committed black relationship,” Tagora said.

“Well, I know that, Tagora. Why do you think I was so concerned that you were suddenly fighting with Karkat of all people, who has been nothing but kind to me.”

“Stelsa, I really don’t feel that way about you,” Tagora mentioned, causing Stelsa to blush from embarrassment.

“I don’t feel that way either! I was just making sure you didn’t feel black for Karkat!”

“I don’t, no offense, Karkat.”

“Some taken,” You responded. You figured it was about time to stop this argument, although it was basically done already, so you said bye and wandered around to look for other people to greet.

You found Kanaya talking to Lanque Bombyx, who was one of the most famous models out there. Honestly, at this point, this almost felt like a networking event rather than a Birthday Party. Also, Lanque was kind of dramatic. All the time.

Regardless, you decided to go over to the two in order to join in the conversation.

“Kanaya, Lanque, how’s it going?” You asked.

“It’s going well,” Kanaya responded. “Lanque and I were just discussing classic literature with each other.”

“Which classic literature?” You LOVED classic literature. While you would always prefer your romance novels, there’s something special about those books you read and analyzed while in high school. And you absolutely believed that analysis was important to learn because it assisted in critical thinking skills which are necessary for the world of today.

“We’re talking about the Great Gatsby,” Lanque answered. “I’m quite interested in the fashion of the book, and how it’s used to illustrate the downfall of the wealthy.”

“And how the fashion is also used to differentiate between old money and new money?” You said, fully prepared to have an extensive conversation about the motifs used in the Great Gatsby.

“Hey, folks, mind if I steal this cranky boy way?” Terezi showed up, grabbed you, and you were suddenly whisked out of the conversation.

“Hey!” You yelled. “I was in the middle of a conversation!”

“Well, it’s done now,” Terezi responded. “Also, we need to get to a dark corner because I wasn’t really invited to this party.”

“Terezi, practically no one had an invitation to the party. That’s why we always set out a bunch more than we think we need for the folks we invited just because so many fucking people arrive because they see that we’re having a goddamn party and decide to just let themselves in.”

“Kanaya always invites the most stuffy people though. Her parties always feel like a networking event before all the uninvited people come,” Terezi reasoned. “I’m just making the party a bit more interesting by being here.”

“Did you spike the punch?”

“What! No! I would never do that!” Terezi grinned. “The punch was already spiked before I got here. The only thing I did was bring a date. Speaking of which, I should probably go find her.”

“What was the actual point of dragging me over here if you’re just going to run off anyway?”

“You looked hungry,” Terezi cackled as she shoved some random snacks into your arms before running off to find presumably Nepeta.

Slightly pissed off, you awkwardly but angrily open a chip bag and munched on the chips with as much fury as you could muster.

You slowly became less angry as you ate, and you realized that you were actually kind of hungry. You took a minute to wonder if Terezi was pale flirting with you or if she was just concerned for your health like any good friend would be. Or if she was actually going to tell you something then panicked last minute.

“Hey, Karkat, watcha doing all the way over here in the dark corner by the snack bar?” Dave snuck up on you while you were deep in thought, and your bones almost escaped from the skin and muscle surrounding them.

You took a moment to realize it was only Dave before you responded to his question.

“Terezi sentenced me to this corner to eat snacks because I apparently ‘looked hungry,’” Your finger quotes were done pretty awkwardly because of the amount of snacks that you were still holding. “Here, have a few. I don’t think I can actually eat all that she gave me, and also all of this is kind of getting difficult to hold.”

You shoved a few snacks into Dave’s arms, and he seemed to get a bit redder than usual.

“Are you sick?” You asked. “You seem a little red.”

“You put the snacks you were holding onto one arm and held the back of your free hand to Dave’s forehead. His face became redder, and you almost saw the sweat going down his face.

“Ah, no, no, I mean, no, I’m not sick. At least, I’m not aware if I am. I feel pretty fine. In fact, I’m pretty sure the only thing sick about me is my sick beats,” Dave rambled. “It’s probably just because it’s really warm in here. There are so many people in here, you know? Lots of people, lots of body heat, who wouldn’t be feeling a little hot in here?”

Dave attempted to fan himself but failed due to the snacks in his arms.

“I can show you a place with fewer people if you're really that warm,” You said, even though you could see Dave's bullshit one hundred miles away. Despite this, you still thought he would appreciate getting out of the crowd.

“Yes, please,” Dave responded, and you guided him over to your own room which was locked to prevent random people from going in there and having sex. You certainly remembered one of the first times you didn't lock your door at one of these parties. You shuddered at the thought and locked the door behind you and Dave.

You dumped the unopened snacks into the desk and sat down on the bed. Dave also placed the snacks in the desk, but he turned the desk chair around and sat in it.

“So,” Dave began but failed to say anything after that.

“Yeah?” You encouraged. You could hear the music from the party blaring outside the room, along with the multitude of people conversing, but your room muted the sound.

“Did you know what Terezi wanted from you?” Dave asked. “Like, yeah, obviously she thought you looked hungry but was that really all she wanted to talk to you about?”

“I have no idea,” You responded. “Who even knows what's going on in her head at any given time. She barely even gave me a single clue on what she actually wanted to talk about.”

“Maybe she chickened out,” Dave suggested. “Like it was important and all, but she just couldn't muster up the courage to talk to you about it.”

“That seems unlikely.”

“I don't know, man. Terezi has issues that she doesn't really talk about at all with anyone, so it’s not really something I would put past her.”

You thought for a moment. You wondered exactly how close Terezi and Dave really were and why you never really picked up on that. Maybe you were just so blinded by your crush on her in middle school that you didn’t notice then, and after you got over your crush, you were too awkward about your former crush to actually get to know Terezi better.

“She should probably get a moirail,” You said, deciding not to voice your personal concerns.

“She should absolutely get a moirail,” Dave agreed.

The two of you spent a few seconds in an awkward silence all while struggling to find something to talk about.

“So, um, how are those videos going?” You asked because it was the first thing you thought of.

“They're going well, you know, or, at least, pretty well. I’ve been uploading a bunch of shit, and the audience is eating it up, loving that good ol’ ASMR. Wasn’t the original purpose of the videos, but if it helps me get more money, then who am I to not give the audience what they want.”

“What what videos have you been releasing?” You asked. You already knew the answer to this question, but you’ve got to make some kind of conversation.

“I’ve been making a bunch of food videos lately, but honestly, that’s mostly because food is perishable, so I’ve got to get rid of it pretty quickly. Which reminds me, do want some mangos? I accidentally ordered way too many mangoes, and they’re all pretty ripe, so I can’t really eat all of them by myself. I’d get sick of mangos, which is really a shame because mangoes are delicious, especially fresh mangoes.”

“...mangoes.”

“Yeah, mangoes. It was for a video testing out a bunch of different fresh food boxes, and I ended up with so many mangoes, and I don’t really know what to do with them.”

“Make mango sorbet. It’s pretty simple to make, and it only requires three ingredients, and it tastes best with fresh mangoes.”

“I don’t really have an ice cream maker-”

“I do. Bring the mangoes tomorrow. We’ll work together to make it.”

“I feel vaguely like I’m making a drug deal,” Dave said.

“There’s no drugs involved. Only sorbet. I would offer to do it today, but there’s a big party going on right now, and I can only assume we want all the sorbet to ourselves.”

“Yeah, I’m not a huge fan of letting a hundred people get into the ice cream my bro and I worked so hard on. That shit is off limits.”

“God forbid so many people find it that we don’t even get any,” You responded, and Dave put on a worried expression.

“No!”

“Yes!” You said, mostly out of reflex. “They’ll eat it like a five-star meal, and they hadn’t eaten in a week.”

“Like they haven’t eaten in months.”

“Maybe not months. The still have to be alive in order to eat the sorbet.”

“Maybe they’re zombies,” Dave suggested.

“Why would zombies want to eat mango sorbet?”

“They’re craving those mangos. Got to get that Vitamin C, man. Otherwise, they’d get scurvy, and that’s not fun for anyone.”

“Zombies wouldn’t care if they got scurvy. They have no pain receptors-they wouldn’t be able to feel anything.”

“Counter-point-they’re constantly in pain and trying to do anything they can to relieve it. They feel hunger, don’t they? Actually, do brains actually satisfy that hunger? Are they just a bunch of empty calories and they don’t actually have to eat brains, but, since eating brains is how they reproduce, that’s something they biologically want to do?”

“You bring up solid points, but, if that’s true, then there’s means to wonder if what zombies feel is actually hunger,” You continued Dave’s rambling. “I still say they don’t feel pain, but I see your point. But do zombies feel at all? Have they lost that ability? I doubt they feel love or hate or even basic emotions like happiness or sadness. Although, I guess it depends on what part of the brain is left uneaten.”

“Guess so ‘cause it’s, like, different parts of the brain are responsible for different things, so it would stand to reason that zombies are different depending on what parts of their brain had been eaten.”

“Unless the zombies systematically eat brains an a way that causes only parts of it to be eaten, leaving the other brain functions alone,” You argued.

“I guess that would give reason as to why all zombies are basically the same. That, or it’s because the movie industry refuses to show us disabled zombies in a classic case of ableism.”

“Light movie industry give us the zombies in wheelchairs and the zombies with chronic pain.”

“Go further, where’s our depressed zombies? Our zombies with anxiety?” Dave responded. “Where are the zombies who can feel love. Found family zombies, romantic zombies, gay zombies.”

“Holy shit, gay zombies.”

“Hell yeah, gay zombies,” Dave confirmed. “Going to be the best romcom of the century-two zombies against the world.”

“They fall in love at a coffee shop while one of them is trying to eat the barista’s brains. The barista shoots one of the zombies and the other dramatically and carefully takes care of them as the two of them slowly fall in love.”

“I can see it on the screen now-’Sweet Bro and hella Jeff: Zoompies in Loev,’ comically misspelled, of course.”

“That’s a horrible name,” You argued. “I suggest the much more elegant name, ‘In Which Two Zombies Named Bro and Jeff Meet at a Coffee Shop Where in Jeff is Attempting to Eat Barista #1’s Brains and the Barista Shoots at Jeff, Hitting Bro Instead and Jeff Retreats with Bro to Take Care of Him and a Relationship that was Originally Just Between Strangers Soon Delves Into One Between Loves and They Struggle to Survive the Dangers of Living People While Maintaining Their Relationship.’”

Dave stared at you. He kept staring at you. The thrum of the part outside of the room was the only thing breaking the silence. Snacks still sat on the bed and desk, still begging to be eaten, but both stomachs were full. There was a careful stillness to the room.

Dave breathed in and breathed out. He repeated the action before putting his hands together as if in prayer.

“Karkat,” Dave disrupted the calm. “That’s a terrible name.”

“It’s a working title!”

“A working summary, maybe. At least mine was ironically bad.”

“Well, shit, that makes it so much better, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“I’ve got some fucking news for you then-something being purposefully shitty is equally, if not more shitty than something that was accidentally shitty,” You yelled through the virtue of being completely unable to have your voice be quieter.

“No, making something purposefully shitty is better because it makes it ironic.”

“I think you need to reevaluate what the meaning of irony is, you shelled peascod.”

“What the hell is a shelled peascod?” Dave questioned.

“It’s an empty peapod-it’s like your brain.”

“Oh, shit, I am feeling so insulted right now. I think I’m gonna need some cold water for that burn. IN fact, you’re gonna need a shovel to bury me in the ground. Wait, not burial. It’s such a good burn that I’m being cremated, and you’ll have to get an urn for my ashes.”

“Are you sure you even deserve an urn?”

“You’re absolutely right-I deserve better. Turn my ashes into a gemstone and use it to make some kick-ass jewelry. Give it to my great-great-grandchild and say ‘Hey little Jimmy, here is a haunted rock’ ‘why, who’s it haunted by?’ Jimmy says like that’s the most important thing to be worried about in that situation. ‘Why, it’s haunted by your great-great-grandfather, little Timmy.’ ‘Dope,’ says little Timmy, who pockets the gemstone only to accidentally break it later and unleash the full force of my haunting power. Rattling shit around and makin’ spooky noises and all that fuckery.”

“Is your great-great grandson’s name Jimmy or Timmy?” You questioned, deciding not to get into whatever nonsense Dave just said.

“His full name is Jimmy Timmy STrider, and if that’s not the best fucking name in existence, I don’t know what is.”

“Hmmm,” You considered this for a moment. “I think literally any other name would be better than that festering pile of shit.”

“Wow. I can’t believe you would say that.”

You suddenly heard someone attempting to open your door before they started knocking. Three consecutive knocks, a short pause, and then three more knocks.

Well, you knew that knock anywhere. You went over to unlock the door and let Kanaya in.

“It’s good to see you again, Karkat. I see Dave is in here as well.”

“Yes, how was your conversation with Lanque?” You asked.

“It was certainly interesting. After you left, he started talking about the history of telescopes. I remember nothing from the conversation save for the fact that past telescopes were extraordinarily long, with one such telescope reaching around one hundred and fifty feet long.”

“Holy shit-that’s one long telescope,” Dave interjected. “How did they even hold it up to the sky? God, how heavy was it? That’s insane. Can you imagine a telescope that big? Wait, wait-I should do commentary for my channel on an astronomy documentary.”

“I am certain that there would be someone who would appreciate that, although I’m not sure if it would be something that I, personally, would enjoy,” Kanaya responded, and Dave kind of lit up, seemingly unaware that Kanaya lowkey insulted the idea.

“The real question here is how the formatting should be,” Dave began to ramble while you and Kanaya ignored him and had your own conversation.

“Karkat, I was somewhat worried that you were just holing up inside your room all alone, so I came here with the intent of offering you some company, but I suppose with the inclusion of Dave here, it might be more appropriate to ask if you want food.”

You looked over to the piles of snacks on your desk and bd. Kanaya glanced over as well before staring expectantly for an answer.

“I think we’re good on food. I won’t say no to having your company although are you sure you don’t want to continue partying? Or mingling with friends and coworkers.”

“I’m sure,” Kanaya answered. “I’m a little tired and was looking for a reprieve from socializing.

“And here I thought you were an extrovert,” You joked. Kanaya laughed.

“Shush.”

“I’ve never shut up in my life, and you know it.”

“What coincidence, neither have I,” Dave interrupted.

“Shit, I never would have guessed with the amount you run your mouth. It’s like you’re constantly about to die, and you desperately want your last words to be the worst thing that anyone could possibly conceive. Your last words will likely be reminiscent of the idea that you want to such a ghost’s dick, which you’ll only be able to do if you perish.”

“Now I’ve got to make those my last words. It’d be the greatest thing in existence. Your last words would be something super cheesy and nice, like how much you love your friends and shit. Nothing wrong with that, but it certainly is kinda boring. Big tearjerker though.”

“This coming from the ghost fucker.”

“Would you not fuck a ghost?” Dave asked. “Get up good and close to that gussy.”

“I’m going to make those your last words,” You snarled, the empty threat making Dave laugh.

God, he had a really nice laugh.

“Let’s go to the dance floor!” Kanaya interrupted. “I think we would all benefit from a bit of fun dance time.”

Kanaya dragged you and Dave outside the room and left you two alone.

“You had no idea if Kanaya was auspistizing between you and Dave or if she was helping out. Regardless, some gray feelings overlapped with your pale feelings for her.

“...Was Kanaya trying to do stuff in the clubs quadrant?” Dave asked, voicing your own question.

“...I don’t know,” You answered. You looked over towards Dave, who appeared to have a dusting of red over his cheeks and ears.

“So, uh, are we, are we gonna take Kanaya’s advice? Dance the night away and all that?”

“Yeah, why not?”

You and Dave then proceeded to dance until the both of you were too exhausted to continue and went to your room to watch movies until the both of you passed out.

[bronzeflower]

Who The Fuck Writes A Ten-Page Rant?????

Chapter 20: Mango Sorbet

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

You were currently in a very specific predicament.

You were in a bed. That, in of itself, was pretty normal. Nothing wrong with being in a nice, comfortable bed with a bunch of blankets on you and a bunch of pillows surrounding you. Exactly the way a bed should be. It’s comfortable and cozy and soft and nice and whatever other synonyms there are for the word comfortable. The point was, you were in a bed, and that particular part was not the problem you were having.

What the main issue was that it wasn’t your bed. It was someone else’s. Usually, you wouldn’t mind that a whole bunch. There have been more than a couple times where you went to someone’s house, and they offered their guest bedroom for you to use or something similar. So, no, that wasn’t the issue either.

The issue was whose bed it was. Because that made all the difference.

Here you were, in Karkat and Kanaya’s house after Kanaya’s birthday party in a bed. Specifically, you were in Karkat’s bed while he snuggled up against you like being an octopus was his goddamn job. You were almost surprised that he hadn’t died yet due to living outside the water because you were pretty fucking certain that Karkat was literally an octopus with how he was cuddling up against you.

The previous night, you and Karkat watched movies on Karkat’s laptop until you fell asleep. You were pretty sure that you were the first to fall asleep, otherwise, you would have figured out something to avoid sleeping in Karkat’s bed.

Not that there was anything wrong with that. There was a part of you that was absolutely ecstatic about sharing a bed with Karkat. That part of you was mostly your heart deciding to go absolutely wild once you realized what was happening.

However, you usually would have asked for a different solution out of politeness and common etiquette, like a blow-up mattress or sleeping on the couch or in the guest bedroom or something like that. You know. Just as a courtesy, and you certainly also don’t really want to make Karkat uncomfortable at all. Although, he seemed to be pretty comfortable right now doing his duty as a literal octopus.

Karkat squeezed tighter around you, clearly having absolutely no awareness of the situation at hand. Not that you could blame him at all really. That was a pretty tiring party, and the two of you did stay up fairly late.

But Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. What should you do? What should you be doing? What could you even do in this sort of situation? Was Karkat okay with this at all? If he went to sleep after you and had enough thought process to put his laptop away, he must be at least a little bit okay with this. Maybe. Hopefully.

Honestly, you didn’t know the protocol for this or anything. Your crush on Karkat just made this entire situation at least one hundred times worse. Or better-it was kind of difficult to know which.

Not to mention that being this close to Karkat kind of made your brain stop working. You were pretty sure if someone asked you what two plus two was, you would say twelve because you clearly are unable to do basic arithmetic. But you were also apparently lucid enough to think the word ‘arithmetic,’ so you suppose some part of your brain is still actually working. Supposedly.

You were actually extremely thankful that Karkat was asleep and therefore unable to see how much of a mess you were.

You then noticed that you didn’t have your sunglasses on. You looked over to the side and saw them sitting on the side desk thing of the bed. That must have meant that Karkat took off your sunglasses for you because you certainly don’t remember taking off your sunglasses yourself last night.

Thinking about it made you a little dizzy, so you stopped thinking about that and started to wonder how the hell you could possibly escape from Karkat’s clutches.

“Yo, Karkat. Hey, hey Karkat. Karkat. Karkat,” You repeated. Even with your vague attempt to wake Karkat up, you didn’t actually try to actually wiggle out of his grip.

Karkat barely moved a muscle, so you decided to try again.

“Karkat. Yo, Karkat. Hey. Karkat. I gotta piss. You gotta let me up, Karkat. Karkat, are you alive. I need to know if you’re alive. Am I going to have to bury you? I’m not really fond of the idea of putting you into the ground. Maybe a cremation? Actually, I don’t know what you want for your body when you die. Hey, hey, Karkat. Do you have a will? You should have a will. You never know when your gonna die, so you should always be prepared. I’d say that I learned that the hard way and be all dramatic and stuff, but that would imply that I died, wouldn’t it? God, dying is fucked up. Like, we have absolutely no idea what the fuck is going to happen after death, and we have no way of knowing without dying ourselves.”

Karkat responded to the amount of noise you were making by making a grunt sound and shoving one of his hands in your face in an attempt to shut you up. You responded like any sane person would-by licking Karkat’s hand.

That woke Karkat up real quick.

“Ew! Ugh! Gross! Why?” Karkat exclaimed and then proceeded to wipe your spit on your sleeve. “There. Take your goddamn spit back, you heathen.”

“Aw, no fun insults for me?”

“No. You don’t deserve them. I don’t have to spend time and energy figuring out insults to call you because that would be a waste of my talents.”

“Yeah, maybe instead you should become a food or movie critic and truly offer businesses only the most deserved pile of insults. The ones who are actually horrible for one reason or another will receive your most hurtful and festering insults, while the ones who are good will receive your infinite praise.”

“Don’t kid yourself-I’m practically a movie critic already. You’ve already received one of my best works, you ungrateful piece of shit.”

You gasped.

“I’m not ungrateful! I cherish that rant with every fiber of my being! I even had it printed out on fancy paper and framed each and every page of it.”

“Yeah, all ten pages of it. That’s excessive and wasteful. How expensive was it to frame each page?”

“I spared no expense!” You swiped your hand in the air in the same dramatic fashion that people in movies do when they’re excited about the possibilities they’ll find in a new town. “I used only the finest of gold frames, ones meant to truly highlight the beauty of your writings. Of course, I did only what your writings deserved, which included nothing but the best materials.”

Karkat laughed, and your heart soared.

“You’re a dumbass,” Karkat said, still smiling brightly.

It was then when he realized the position he was in, and he hurriedly detached himself from you.

“Shit! Sorry about that. I probably should have warned you that I tend to grab onto anything close to me when I’m sleeping.”

“Nah, man, it’s chill. If I cared, I would have told you.”

“Still. There are a bunch of folks who definitely do care about that sort of thing, and, trust me, I’ve been in loads of situations with people who got mad at me for that because their masculinity was more fragile than glass,” Karkat explained, and you frowned.

“...I was like that at one point, if you can believe it,” You responded.

“Mr. Pink-pants? Mr. Nail-Polish-And-Makeup-Video? Mr. I-Put-On-A-Skirt-Because-They-Shouldn’t-Be-Just-For-Girls-And-Also-They’re-Pretty? On level with the guys who couldn’t even wear a dog tag necklace without thinking it was gay? Really?”

“No! Really!” You insisted. “It… actually took a while to unlearn that kind of toxic masculinity, and I’m still struggling with it to this day. It’s not really something that goes away immediately, even if you’ve been out for a few years. And sometimes I feel like being trans kind of made it more difficult, you know? Especially with the idea that following this kind of toxic masculinity was the only way I could be considered a ‘real man.’”

Karkat said nothing for a while, letting the silent tension build and build until it was practically unbearable.

“I’m…” Karkat finally broke the silence. “I’m glad you’re working to unlearn that kind of thing.”

That told you everything you needed to know. You popped on your sunglasses and grinned.

“Alright! We should get started on that mango sorbet, shouldn’t we?” You got out of the bed probably more energetically than you had in a while.

“Hold up, we have to eat breakfast first, you dumbass!” Karkat interrupted, stopping you in your tracks to glory and ice cream.

With that, you were forced to do all the typical morning stuff, like using the bathroom and eating breakfast instead of eating mango sorbet, which was obviously the breakfast of champions. Now you were forced to eat the lunch of champions instead, which was a phrase that wasn’t nearly as fun to say as the breakfast of champions.

You also had to go back to your own house to get the mangos before bringing them back to Karkat and Kanaya’s house. Yeah, that was also a thing necessary to do in order to accomplish the goal of actually making the mango sorbet. After all, you can’t exactly make anything if you don’t have the ingredients to do so.

Well, you supposed that you could always use substitutes in recipes, but if you use too many, you���re basically creating a different thing, which was something that still required certain ingredients in order to reach the exact product. Not to mention that the point of making mango sorbet was to use the mangos that were going to go bad soon if you didn’t use them almost immediately.

Never mind all that though. It was time to get started on the mango sorbet.

“Wow, these mangos really are ripe,” Karkat commented. “Do you know how to cut a mango, Dave?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” You responded. “Honestly, when I tried one, I kind of just chopped it up in a way that would give me access to the meat part of the fruit.”

“Oh thank god you didn’t try to eat the skin,” Karkat held a hand over his heart. “I’m not sure if I could be friends with a dumbass like that.”

“I’m almost certain that you’re friends with a dumbass like that.”

“Yeah,” Karkat sighed. “I have multiple dumbass friends who did that, including Terezi.”

“Honestly though, I feel like she should get some sort of a pass on that. She tries to eat everything, even when it’s in no way edible. And also she’s blind. Who’s tried to eat the mango skin who isn’t Terezi?”

“Well, all the friends that I’ve seen try to eat a mango and try to eat the skin include Sollux, Terezi, Vriska, Eridan, and John.”

“Isn’t that, like, half your friend group?” You asked. Karkat responded with a facepalm.

“It’s a good bit of my friend group. Haven’t seen Vriska in literal years though. I think she’s in jail or something. But, nevermind all that. I’m gonna teach you how the hell to cut a mango because that’s an invaluable skill for every single person in this world to learn.”

“Alright, here’s how you go about it,” Karkat placed one of the mangos on a cutting board with the fruit being placed vertically in reference to Karkat. “You’ve kind of got to cut around the pit because that thing is extremely hard and basically impossible to cut through, so it’s honestly better to just avoid it completely. So you’ve got to cut to the side of the pit like this.”

Karkat made a clean cut on one side of the mango, chopping off about a third of the mango.

“Then you do the same to the other side,” Karkat turned the mango around and cut another third off the mango.” Next, you lay the mango on one of the sides you just cut and slice off the excess. You got that?”

Karkat glanced towards you, ultimately making the exact same face that every single hot character in an anime does multiple times towards their love interest, and it was a stupid fucking look, and yet it made practically all the blood run to your face and made you almost completely lose your ability to form complete sentences.

“Ye-yeah. Yeah, I got that.” Yes. You definitely knew how to make sentences. It was very simple. It was just a noun and a verb. That was all that was necessary to form a full sentence. Like, I run. He runs. She runs. You run. I ran. They ran. You ran away from this train of thought and went back to trying your best to focusing on whatever Karkat was actually saying.

“Next, since we’re going to be turning this into a puree, we’re going to cut up the mango into cubes. Just slice the flesh into squares while it’s in the skin and then you can kind of pull the skin off,” Karkat did so and put some of the cubes of mango into a blender. “Or you can squeeze them off if taking the skin off becomes too time-consuming.”

Karkat cut the rest of the mango into squares and put them into the blender.

“Do you want to try cutting one of the mangos?” Karkat asked, and you pretty much immediately agreed, even though that was probably an awful idea because you didn’t really know exactly what you were doing. Oh well. Practice makes perfect, right? Or something like that.

You placed one of the mangos vertically towards you and did your best to ignore Karkat looking over towards you to make sure you were doing everything correctly because Karkat was a very distracting person.

You looked at the mango and tried to guess where the pit was. You honestly couldn’t tell at all where it was, but you could certainly guess.

You started to cut through the soft flesh of the mango before you were stopped by something rock hard, and, no matter how hard you pressed, your knife refused to slice through that part of the mango.

“Hey, hey! You’re going to hurt yourself if you try to cut through the pit!”

As if on cue, you accidentally cut yourself. It wasn’t a large cut-you’ve certainly had much, much worse, but seeing the blood, regardless of how small of an amount it was, still made you feel kind of dizzy.

You barely noticed as Karkat guided you to the sink and turned on the facet to clean the wound. He got something out of one of the cabinets in the kitchen.

Karkat rummaged around in a box and pulled out some things.

“Dave,” Karkat’s voice was still loud, but it was soft and reassuring. “**** ** ***** ** hurt *** * ******. *** disinfectant. Is that okay?”

Karkat’s voice was a little fuzzy, but you nodded, and Karkat took a cotton swab and lightly swiped it over your finger. It stung, but no more than the initial slice did.

Karkat then put a bandaid on your finger and then kissed where your wound was.

That broke you out of our stupor. Your heart started racing at 100mph, and your mind filled up with…certain thoughts that were almost certainly not appropriate at all, and you could feel all the blood rushing towards your face as if your blood cells were race cars and the finishing line was your brain.

“Dave! Are you okay?” Karkat worried, putting a hand to your forehead. “Are you getting sick?”

“Ah, n-no,” You managed to stutter out. “I’m just a little bit, uh, you know…”

Karkat’s eyes widened as he seemed to realize what he had just done.

“Sorry, I kind of got carried away.” It was Karkat’s turn to blush. “Kanaya and I do that for each other sometimes, so I guess instinct kind of took over. Are… are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You choked out. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m cool as a cucumber, cold as ice. I am zero degrees Kelvin.”

“If you were zero degrees Kelvin, you would be dead.”

“I’d be more than dead. All the molecules in my body wouldn't even be moving. Actually, do you think that’s why they call it freezing time? Because all the molecules aren’t moving and are therefore frozen? How would it be for the person who freezes time? Is that why freezing time is considered impossible? Because reaching zero degrees Kelvin is impossible?”

“You could probably make the time go really, really slowly.”

“Just freeze everything to one degree Kelvin. People would probably die if you do it for too long though.”

“Ah, the dangers of time travel. You gotta be super careful with that kind of thing.”

“You’ve also got to be super careful with knives.”

You laughed.

“Yeah, you’re absolutely right. Gotta be hella careful.”

“You wanna try again with cutting the mango?” Karkat asked.

“You’re trusting me to try again? Not worried about me cutting myself again?”

“Everyone makes mistakes. It makes no sense to forbid you from cutting a mango simply because you fucked up the first time you did it. And I guess I am still kind of worried, but it’s not like you’re going to cut your hand off or anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll try again.” You went to stand in front of the cutting board and picked up the knife. “You might want to guide me though. You know, just as a precaution against an accident happening.”

You were honestly joking. You really had no expectations for Karkat to take you up on your request, but Karkat walked over and lightly placed one hand over yours and put his other hand on the mango. He placed his head on your shoulder in order to see the cutting board.

First a kiss and now this? You were going to die. You were in heaven, on cloud nine, and you were also so, so dead.

“So you need to cut around the pit,” Karkat said, his voice awkwardly close to your ear. Was it just how close he is, or does his voice sound deeper? Karkat guided your hand to finish cutting the initial slice you did off of the pit. He then turned the mango around and cut off the other side.

“Put it on its side…” Karkat muttered, clearly more talking to himself, but it still sent a shiver down your spine. Karkat laid the mango on its side and had you cut off the flesh on the top and bottom of the pit.

Karkat then realized exactly how close he was to you and quickly removed himself, leaving you feeling a little chilly without his body pressed against yours.

“S-sorry,” Karkat apologized, keeping a good distance away from you.

“It’s-It’s fine.” You placed down the knife. “How about you handle the mango cutting?”

“You can put the stuff in the blender,” Karkat suggested, likely as a way not to leave you out of the cooking process.

“Sounds good.”

You were both clearly very embarrassed if the awkward silence that followed was any indication.

Karkat cut up a mango and handed you the parts that you were supposed to take the skin off of, so you put the edible parts of the mango into the blender while Karkat continued to cut the other mangos.

It took about three mangos before the silence was completely unbearable.

“So what’s going in this other than mangos?” You asked because, obviously, you were going to ignore everything that made the situation awkward, no matter how much those situations made your heart flutter.

“The other ingredients are honey and lime juice,” Karkat responded. “Although adding a bit of salt might also be good.”

“Yeah, get that salty ice cream.”

“What do you think salted caramel ice cream is there for?”

“That's completely fair,” You said. “God, now I want caramel.”

“We have caramel, but I can’t guarantee that it would taste good on mango sorbet.”

“You never know if something is going to taste good unless you try it.”

Karkat stuck out his tongue in disgust.

“Feel free to do that to your taste buds, but I, for one, am not going to tarnish my delicate palette by doing that.”

“I’ll tarnish my palette for you,” You responded.

“That’s not necessary, thank you very much.”

“I’ll tarnish my palette for myself.”

“I have no qualms about allowing you to do that, but if you end up sick, it’s not my fault.”

“That’s completely fair. Now, how much honey and lime are we going to put in here?” You questioned.

“Hold up. We gotta finish cutting these mangos first so that we can see how much mango puree we have, and we can figure out how much stuff we’re going to add.”

“Alright. I’ll be patient. I’ll wait before adding a bunch of random stuff to our lovely sorbet that we’ve put so much blood, sweat, and tears into. It’s an old, secret recipe that we would die to protect because allowing it to fall into the wrong hands would be dangerous to the world.”

“I’m going to throw a mango at you if you keep being so goddamn dramatic.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” You challenged, honestly fully expecting Karkat to just straight up lob a mango at you.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t. That would be wasteful,” Karkat said.

“It wouldn’t be that wasteful,” You argued. “Afterall, the mango would still have the skin on it, and we could just wash it if it fell on the floor. We could definitely still use the mango.”

“Are you trying to get me to throw a mango at you?”

“I won’t stop you if you did throw a mango at me,” You really didn’t know why you said that. You don’t actually want Karkat to throw a mango at you, but also you kind of wanted Karkat to throw a mango at you.

“I’m not going to throw a fucking mango at you.” Karkat handed you a cut mango for you to throw in the blender. “I will only hand them to you gently and carefully like a newborn baby.”

“I’ve never been all that good with babies.” You put the flesh of the mango into the blender.

“I’ve never even touched a baby. I just know that they tend to be more fragile than troll grubs.”

“I don’t know enough about grubs to dispute that, and I’m also not sure if you’ve ever actually touched a troll grub anymore than you’ve touched a human baby.”

“That sounded weird,” Karkat mentioned. You shrugged. “Besides, I have actually worked with troll grubs before. Sometimes I help out Kanaya in her jadeblood duties.”

“I thought the system made it so that anyone who wanted to could work with the grubs and so jadebloods weren’t required to do grubsit anymore.”

“They did do that, but the name ‘jadeblood duties’ kind of stuck around because of how it was required in the past.”

“Huh.”

“Would you ever consider volunteering for something like that?” Karkat asked.

“Ah, no. No, not really,” You answered. “I don’t really trust myself around kids, you know?”

Too worried that you’d be a bad father. Too worried that you might fuck them up completely. Too worried that you’ll be apart of a circle of repeating events.

“I get that,” Karkat said, asking for no explanation whatsoever, and you felt a little more relaxed.

“Is that the last mango?” You asked as Karkat handed you yet another mango. “Are we ready to fire this blender up?”

“Go ahead.”

You pressed a button on the blender and realized it was unplugged. After plugging in the blender to the nearest outlet, you turned on the blender and watched it turn the mangoes into mush.

You varied up the speeds to make certain that the mango mush was perfectly smooth. Once you were absolutely sure that it was smooth, you poured the puree into a large measuring cup.

“Looks like we’ve got about threeish cups of this. How much other stuff should we add to it?” You asked.

“An amount.”

“That’s specific.”

“Yes.”

From there, Karkat took over all the measuring and putting stuff into a bowl.

“Grab the bowl thing from the freezer,” Karkat ordered.

You went to the freezer and found the bowl thing.

Karkat took it, put it on a platform thing that it is attached to and poured the contents of the mixing bowl into it.

Karkat put other attachments onto it and pushed a button. The bowl started spinning.

“Alright. Now we just wait for twenty minutes.”

“God, Karkat, I’m not sure if I can wait that long. I’ll die of starvation in that time period.”

“Well then, I guess you’re just going to have to die.”

You placed yourself on the floor and pretended to be dead.

“Come on. Get up,” Karkat lightly nudged your corpse with his foot. “We’ve got to pick our a movie or show to watch, and, if you don’t get up, I’m eating all the sorbet myself.”

“Well, would you look at that-I’m alive! It’s a miracle.” You stood up and wiped yourself off.

Karkat rolled his eyes, and the then the two of you decided to watch Queer Eye and then proceeded to eat way too much mango sorbet.

All you had to do was remind yourself that this wasn’t a date at all because, otherwise, you were pretty sure you would have died.