hi! my name's john egbert. i made this blog so you can ask me things, so go on and do that. :B roleplay tag ask tag ( Independent John blog. Sometimes I roleplay; I answer questions, mainly. I hop around from AUs to canon! cosplayer's blog! )
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(John, stop trying to be cute. It's not working.)
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yo john, what up with that sweater?
dave, you can't deny it's incredibly festive! and it's pretty warm. the big sleeves are a plus, too.
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That was the Dave you appreciated. You appreciated him even more so when he shoved the bowl back into your face and you dumped more food into it; you laughed, moving to sit beside him on the counter.
"You're really good at being a drama queen, you know. Ever consider being an actor?"
> You move forward to press a kiss to his cheek, giddy at how natural it felt.
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Still. You were able to grin over at him, swatting at him as he spoke. "You're such a drama queen," you chirp absently, dumping the macaroni into the steadily bubbling pot.
It doesn't take long for it to cook -- and, the entire time, you make a point to prod him, exclaiming that 'a dead body shouldn't look hot, because that's some fucking necrophilia waiting to happen, god i'm fucked up,' -- and it doesn't take long, either, for you to dump it into a bowl and present it to him.
"Here. Eat it!"
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"That's fine. As long as you actually fucking eat, I'm happy,"
> You turn a bit in his grip, smiling over at him.
"I feel like I'm playing the mom right now. Or 50's housewife. Your call."
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ooc: Sorry for all of the roleplaying, guys! I know I'm an ask blog, so I'll tag them under 'egbertrps' so you can blacklist it.
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Really, it takes a particularly minuscule amount of time. His eyes widen and there's a sort of understanding there -- he gets it, he gets it and relief floods into you.
You don't know how he got it so quickly, but you smile stupidly down at him when he remarks that he was fucking hungry.
"Sounds about right. Come on --"
>You tug him upwards, still with a firm grip on his hand. It's still giving you the shivers that you're able to 'touch' him like this. So casually. You wander towards the kitchen with him in tow.
It's quick and simple for you to locate what you need to make him something.
"Mac n' cheese," You chime, smiling over at him. You pull him closer, hinting to him to sling his arms around your waist and stand behind you as you watch diligently over the heating water.
"Now, do you want to talk about it like a Strider? Or save it for when you're not starving half to death?"
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Your eyebrows knit downwards and you reach down to shake his shoulder, biting your lower lip.
"Dave -- jesus christ, Dave, fucking knock it off,"
> You withdraw your hand, swallowing past the lump in your throat.
"This is 'not' the Dave I know to -- get so down and out about this! You're treating yourself like a worthless piece of crap and you're 'not'. You're 'not' and you need to start acting like the Dave I know! You can be sad, but you can't be like 'this' -- you can't bury everything. You have to confront it and deal with it like I 'know' you can!"
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You had almost forgotten that this was new. It still made your breath catch in your throat and your cheeks heat up red.
You would have pushed him away and told him to take the affection a bit slower if he wasn't..like 'this'.
Still, it hurts, and you knew even if you weren't 'together' you'd be holding him like this. It was a whole other realm, now, but..
"You have to eat, even if you're not hungry," You murmur softly. "I'm not leaving. Just...let me get up and make you something, okay? You're not going to feel any better if you don't take care of yourself. And -- see, god dammit, you've got me acting like a mother hen! Ridiculous, Strider."
>You try to inject some normalcy into the conversation, not quite sure of what to do. You move away from him a bit, smiling down at him.
"Sound cool?"
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Still, you decided not to press the matter further -- instead, you sealed your lips into a hard line and attempted to wipe the incredulousness off of your features.
Sollux had broken up with him. You didn't quite know how this worked, how 'anything' worked -- and you felt sick to your stomach to think just for a moment that you had him all to yourself, then, and god that was awful but --
"Come on. Let's sit down, then,"
> You wrapped your arm around his waist and lead him to his couch, sitting him down gingerly.
"You can't do this to yourself, though. Hide in bed all day -- god, have you even eaten?"
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"It's okay, I guess, but...god, Dave, what 'happened'? You were worrying me sick, and I come here, and...look at you!" > You grimace, pulling him closer. "Can you explain 'why' you were ignoring me?"
> He hadn’t been answering you. You’d sent him a few text messages over the course of the day - a text here, a text there; he hadn’t been on Pesterchum, either. He wasn’t anywhere, and you weren’t quite sure you were okay with it.
No, you were not - because you were used to a quick response. You were used to smiling dumbly down at the lit-up screen on your phone when he responded — used to fumbling to answer quickly when you felt the familiar buzz in your pocket.
So you decided to take matters into your own hands. You found yourself at his door — bundled up and shivering from the cold air that had lapped at your face and turned your nose red — and you knocked on it briskly. “Dave! Open up!”
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"Jesus christ, dude,"
> You move your hand up to cup his face, knitting your eyebrows downward.
"Was this why you weren't answering me all day? You look like crap, and -- 'god',"
> You feel a pit in the center of your stomach, and it churned violently. What had 'happened' to make him look like this?
> He hadn’t been answering you. You’d sent him a few text messages over the course of the day - a text here, a text there; he hadn’t been on Pesterchum, either. He wasn’t anywhere, and you weren’t quite sure you were okay with it.
No, you were not - because you were used to a quick response. You were used to smiling dumbly down at the lit-up screen on your phone when he responded — used to fumbling to answer quickly when you felt the familiar buzz in your pocket.
So you decided to take matters into your own hands. You found yourself at his door — bundled up and shivering from the cold air that had lapped at your face and turned your nose red — and you knocked on it briskly. “Dave! Open up!”
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> He hadn't been answering you. You'd sent him a few text messages over the course of the day - a text here, a text there; he hadn't been on Pesterchum, either. He wasn't anywhere, and you weren't quite sure you were okay with it.
No, you were not - because you were used to a quick response. You were used to smiling dumbly down at the lit-up screen on your phone when he responded -- used to fumbling to answer quickly when you felt the familiar buzz in your pocket.
So you decided to take matters into your own hands. You found yourself at his door -- bundled up and shivering from the cold air that had lapped at your face and turned your nose red -- and you knocked on it briskly. "Dave! Open up!"
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really? okay, that makes me feel a lot less..weird. like i wasn't misreading things. because, god, i was really afraid of that. heh.
i'm kind of at a loss for what we should do, though! maybe go see skyfall. or something.
this is overwhelming. i'm going to faint with my hand thrown over my forehead.
hey, dave! my messages weren’t going through.
uh..yeah. i guess i figured i’d man up and ask you because my feelings were getting a little too weird to where i could pass them off to myself as ‘just best bros’. rose convinced me to say something, and i just kind of threw it into your messages…
and now i’m wigged out! i can’t believe i told you. or asked you.
heh.
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hey, dave! my messages weren't going through.
uh..yeah. i guess i figured i'd man up and ask you because my feelings were getting a little too weird to where i could pass them off to myself as 'just best bros'. rose convinced me to say something, and i just kind of threw it into your messages...
and now i'm wigged out! i can't believe i told you. or asked you.
heh.
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futuretwinarmageddons replied to your post: 2tay away from my mate2priit! >flails at John
no ii diid not lo2e he wa2 my mate2priite fiir2t!
maybe i lost a bit, based on the timing.
but, still. not completely; he's not my matesprit or whatever you guys call it. quadrants are a little too complicated for me! i don't feel like filling all of those..i don't think i could handle a kisme...again, whatever. troll words, man.
he can just be my boyfriend. on a date.
so i win.
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2tay away from my mate2priit! >flails at John
you snooze, you lose!
you were definitely snoozing, because i am the victor.
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