Posts tagged: musings
"I’m sorry! I misunderstood. You said boyfriend. I thought you said best friend. Carlos is my…best friend.”
"You lying bastard!"
Seeing John and the others in the path of imminent vaporization jerked Dave back, not only into his right mind, but 413 days into the past.
He was floating in a stretch of space, unremarkable save for the fact that it would soon become the epicenter of the violent unraveling of SBURB from all of paradox space, taking all of the beings currently playing or inhabiting its sessions with it. Dave would be the cause, and – he would believe for a while – the sole survivor.
He was surrounded by his friends and alternate-future-ecto-relatives, and he had seen this scene play out so many times before, seen them all flash-burn to ash so many times before, that as he looked around, all he saw were talking, breathing corpses. At least that made it easier to do what he knew (or thought he knew) that he had to do.
The ground tossed underneath his feet, changing from sand to ice to foliage to strangely substantial cloud, and Dave had to cling to the monolith – the only unchanging landmark – just to cling to his sanity. In the distance, the radio tower stretched into a gothic purple spire that he knew as intimately as his own nightmares.
I feel a sudden and inexplicable need for Matthew Swift in square-frame glasses.
John Egbert was…a little confused. Okay, fine, he was very confused, but he was dealing with some really weird stuff!
He supposed the confusion first started when Dave, his best bro in an entirely not wanting to stick their tongues down each other’s throats kind of way, had…well. That had happened. Dave had found John in his old room back on his planet one day and he’d looked so serious, and a little scared, so naturally John thought someone had died or something, but then Dave had just told him he liked him. And John was completely justified in being confused about that, because of course Dave liked him; they wouldn’t be friends if he didn’t! After John had stopped trying to talk past the obstacle of Dave’s mouth on his and realized that holy shit, Dave’s mouth was on his! and after another few seconds of stupid shock, John had…still not pulled away.
Dave listened to the sound of helicopter blades fading quickly, and silently wished his friend a safe return. Since that pteranodon had escaped from the space-time vortex that opened during one of last year’s PTA meetings and found a way to hermaphrodidically reproduce, the infestation had become pretty serious and the fact that they were attracted to shiny helicopters was no laughing matter and since when had Dave Strider become such a caring, worrying…sap? He’d have to lock that down soon, or his friends might not even recognize him.
DAVE: Since when do we have a helipad on the roof?
Cecil thought for a moment, steepling his fingers on his crossed knee and leaning back in his chair.
CECIL: I believe we had one last Tuesday for a few hours.
Dave didn’t know whether to smile or scowl at that. Not that he’d seriously been considering doing either, but sometimes he liked to entertain the idea of what facial expressions he would have made in reaction to things as an exercise.