#this goes back to June when this dude broke up with his gf after he kissed me and we were drunk

[musicinthebranchesoftheveins]

I wish I was making this shit up

[luvrpop]

advil in the bathroom

source: homestuck pairing: n/a requested: yes tws: over the counter drugs (advil) word count: 1498 synopsis: dave gets an eyestrain headache, and goes on an epic quest for advil extra: shoutout to my discord server buddies for lending me some help with their master rap lyricism

There are some days where things suck.

Those are the days where you stay in your room and no one sees you until dinner, or until you decide that boredom will kill you faster than just sucking it up and hanging out in the presence of other people. You say that you make your best music on those days, although your brothers would probably disagree. To that you would respond that creativity comes from necessity or some shit, and Dirk would tell you that the saying is “necessity is the mother of invention” while Hal explains why that doesn’t apply to your situation at all. They’ll still listen to your demo at 3 AM that night, and they’ll still tell you that they like it. You know they might be lying just a teensy bit, but it’ll still boost your ego. 

But not every day is like that.

Your name is Dave Strider, and today actually hasn’t been that bad. 

You’ve been playing Minecraft with your friends all morning, which is one of your favorite things to do. You finally proposed to your best friend June, who doubles as your minecraft-gf-now-fiance, and the realm has been busy with wedding preparations. It’s been the ultimate will they won’t they of the century, and Roxy had been bothering you non stop about “putting a ring on it” for forever. Rose is going to be your best man, naturally, and Jade is going to be June’s. Dirk’s going to be the officiary. Hal spawned 64 diamond hoes as a wedding gift. It’s going to be fuckin’ awesome. 

For now, you turn off your computer and push away from your desk. You rub the bridge of your nose, hoping to stave away a headache from staring at your computer for so long that you know is inevitable. Rose has offered to buy you blue light tint shit for your shades, but you’re not interested in fucking up the lenses like that. Plus, you’re no bitch. You suck it up and head out to the kitchen like always, to rummage through the junk cabinet for an Advil or something. Hal is already seated at the island, reading something. He looks up when you enter the room, and you both nod in greeting.

June asked you once if it’s weird for you to have a robot for a brother. You had replied that you already had a robot for a brother so it’s no big deal, but you both knew that you weren’t serious. On top of it being sick as fuck to be able to say that your big brother is a super genius who built a super genius AI and then a fully functioning body for said AI, you just really like the guy. Plus, he helps keep things organized. Without him, you’d never know where anything is. Dirk isn’t messy, really the opposite. He’s very particular about where things go. The problem is that his idea of where welding supplies go is in the cabinet next to the fridge, where you adamantly believe dishes should be. And so on.

After a minute or two of fruitlessly searching for pain relief, Hal finally speaks.

“What are you looking for?” He asks, not looking up from his book. 

“Advil,” you say, shoving receipts and a neti pot back into the cabinet.

“I see. Check the bathroom.”

“Why?” The fuckin’ cabinet won’t close. “It’s always been in here.”

“Dirk was on a reorganization campaign this morning. You really missed out, dude.” He responds, watching in a bemused fashion as you do mad mental gymnastics to figure out how to stack empty inhaler boxes in a way that will let the cabinet door close.

“Yeah, okay, cool, but like-” You have to pause to catch the bottle of Pepto Bismol that you should have known wouldn't fare well on top of a bunch of empty boxes. “If it ain’t broke don’t fix it or whatever. Now I’m gonna die of eye strain, man, and Dirk’s gonna laugh at my funeral.”

“You know that saying doesn’t apply to him.” Hal says, and you know he’s right. Dirk’s more of an “if it ain’t broke, fix it weekly as to assure it remains unbroken” sort of guy. You snort, and finally get the door closed. Hal pats your shoulder (awkwardly, because the guy doesn’t understand physical affection for the life of him. You appreciate the gesture anyway.) as you walk by, and you begrudgingly make your way to the bathroom. The door is locked when you get there, and you jiggle the handle, just to be obnoxious 

“Dave, I’m going to kill you if you don’t stop jiggling the doorknob,” Dirk snaps from the other side of the door. 

You snort, and jiggle more aggressively.

“Dave.” “I have a headache.”

Dirk makes a sound that is halfway between exasperated and confused. “I- Okay?” 

“A big dumbass moved the Advil into the shitter, and I have a headache. So hurry up or unlock the door,” 

“Dude.”

“Unless you’re taking a shit. Are you taking a shit, Dirk?”

Silence.

“Dude, el mayo.” You can see Dirk’s face scrunch up at that. He hates you and Roxy’s incessant need to say acronyms out loud in stupid ways in your head. “Why’d you even move it? Did you just wake up randomly thinking: 'Hey, I know what I'll do! I'm just gonna obliterate Dave’s afternoon by holding his salvation hostage and then shitting near it? That’s really fucked up, man,”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but the cabinet in the bathroom is literally called a medicine cabinet. This was inevitable.”

You kick the door half heartedly before stalking back into your room. You know he’ll bring you the medicine when he’s done, but you feel the tingles of a fire track coming on.

Fifteen minutes later, after turning down the Advil and locking yourself in your room, you’re convinced you’ve got the hottest shit since the meteor shower that killed the dinosaurs, headache long forgotten. You usher Dirk and Hal into the cramped bathroom (it takes a while to get them to comply, but you assure them that this shit will be legendarily mind blowing. And really, who could resist that?), and Hal calls sitting on the toilet lid. You’re obviously standing in the shower, so that leaves Dirk to sit on the floor. 

“Couldn’t we have done this in the living room?” Dirk complains, interrupting you as you go to start the backing track (it’s the Minecraft opening theme, with some shitty bass over it.).

“It’s atmospheric, Dirk.” Hal replies, shaking his head.

“Yeah, duh,” You agree. “Now shut the fuck up, I’m about to take you to school.

Check it. Yo, I’m chillin’ on the comp but my head starts splittin’ Messin’ with my game, and fuckin’ up my sittin’ It’s bad, it’s mad, like an angry dad But it ain’t nothin’ compared to the rhymes that I’m spittin’

So I log out, get up, and leave my room My head’s killin’ me, I’m dyin’, y’know I gotta zoom Roll up into the kitchen, I’m cryin’, tearin’ out my hair So imagine my surprise when that shit ain’t there

Who the fuck locked my Advil up in the shitter? The fuck is your problem, I’ll vague you on Twitter I got a hundred followers, you forgot that I’m famous, They’re willing and ready to tear you a new anus.”

You’re about to continue creaming these suckers, but Dirk cuts you off before you can.

“Okay kiddo, I hear you, good god, sit down Is this bathroom a circus? Cause you’re actin’ a clown

I’m so sorry to tell you- Even Hal can attest- I’m so sorry for shitting This bitch has got IBS

I’ll spare you the details- My shit’s soaking wet- But may I remind you?  That’s a medicine cabinet

So before you go cryin’ ‘I’m dying, I’m dying!’ Just study my flow,  Cause that shit’s inspiring”

Oh, hell no. Not in your bathroom. Time to go fucking crazy.

“Eyes wildin’, I’m freestylin’ I’m crushin’ cube bitches, I’ll minecraft you some stitches Relief should be accessible, Otherwise that shit is unethical,

So you better say you’re sorry For puttin’ my drugs above the potty,”

This time, it’s Hal interrupting Dirk.

“Firstly, Dave, shawty, That don’t rhyme with potty To pay for these lessons? You’ll need a scholly 

Your flow is vile, shit’s juvenile I think I’ve heard better from Terezi’s reptile

You’re frying my circuits, This shit is trash If I was organic, you’d give me a rash

I’ve got something to say,  I’ll say it concisely: Shut the fuck up! I’m not asking nicely,”

Well shit. Hal’s got it on lock. You and Dirk groan, and the song ends. Hal always gets the last word. 

The three of you will argue for the rest of the night over who wons (you did, obviously), and you’ll have a shitty microwaved dinner.

Today wasn’t so bad at all.