INCOMING LOG POST: STEALING GAMZEE'S IDEA BECAUSE HOLY FUCK MY LIST IS LONG.

[ihateyouetc]

NOTES: There's no way I'll be talking to all of you assholes before the event is over, so here we are.

Additionally, because I'm not putting up a starter-log/action-post/whatever since the setting will differ by character and I'm incredibly out-of-practice with my thought muscles, feel free to put up a blank comment and force me to generate the setting. Seriously, don't feel bad. I need to think more than I've been thinking lately. However, warning: I default to prose format. If I write the starter, it's going to be prose.

WHAT: This terrible parasitic plant-caused mass-kissing phenomenon.
WHO: Karkat and whoever. EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE.
WHEN: 24th through 28th. Karkat can be found at his apartment but will later abandon it to avoid the growing risk of accidentally kissing Nathan, who will not fucking leave. Kissing anyone else is better than kissing Nathan. Unless it's Equius, in which case Karkat will run screaming back to his apartment. DO NOT FUCKING BLANK COMMENT REPLY, EQUIUS. I WILL NOT KISS YOU. I WILL NOT KISS YOU. I WILL NOT KISS YOU. I WILL NOT KISS YOU. I WILL NOT KISS YOU. I WILL NOT KISS YOU. I WILL NOT KISS YOU. I WILL NOT KISS YOU. I WILL NOT KISS YOU. I WILL NOT KISS YOU. HOW MANY MORE TIMES DO I HAVE TO TYPE THIS BEFORE I GET SICK OF IT SINCE I'M NOT USING THE COPY-PASTE FUNCTION. I WILL NOT KISS YOU. (Who am I kidding. If you write it first, I will. I'm making you personally responsible for that if you do it, though.)

Comments

[riseup]

Most people have a little nagging voice in the back of their head that tells them when something is a bad idea.

John Egbert is not one of those people.

Blast off into space on a rocket pack because a mysterious alien girl told you to? Okay! Confront a murderous troll armed only with a pie? Sure, why not! (Okay, so that one wasn't entirely in his control.) Visit your best troll friend during a mistletoe crisis when you specifically said you weren't going to? Sounds like a great idea that will not end badly at all!

Dumb. Dumb stupid idiot dumb.

So without a second thought or a moment's hesitation, John heads over to the East building, Christmas gift in hand. Okay, so it's Christmas Eve — but this can't really be wrapped, and he's tired of taking care of it. In the elevator, he holds the little habitat up to his face and stares the nameless hermit crab in its little eyes. "You are really weird looking," John says quietly. "But I hope you like your new home."

It's kind of an embarrassing gift. Scratch that: it's a really embarrassing gift. Like if someone gave him a Ken doll wearing a fedora and said, "This is kind of similar to your dad, right?" Nice sentiments, awkward execution.

John draws in a deep breath before rapping his knuckles against the troll's front door. "Karkat, it's me," he calls out for good measure (and to hopefully ward off a chance encounter with the angry roommate). In a final fleeting moment of self-consciousness, he hides the habitat behind his back, like it'll stave off the inevitable weirdness. It won't. But it's a nice try, right?

[ihateyouetc]

In John's defense, Karkat also seemed to have forgotten all about telling him to stay away -- right after biting Souji's mouth open. Yes, obviously nothing messed up was going to happen! How could something messed up happen after something already messed up happened?

Whatever.

The door fails at opening.

Its knob rattles like a seizure. There's snarl that sounds suspiciously similar to dammit, followed by a brief pause. There's also a fast series of louder sound dubiously similar to fuck you and don't come out here and awesome, no problem then. Stay in your shitty respiteblock! (Funny that John has come to know Nathan as the angry roommate.)

Shortly after, the sound of a lock clicking.

Extra precautions needed to be taken during a parasitic plant-caused mass-kissing phenomenon.

When the door finally opens, it's with some level of reluctance. Karkat didn't want to agree to getting a gift. The problem was he also didn't feel like arguing when this moron would show up anyway, gift in tow, refusing to take a sensible "hell no" for an answer.

He stands in the doorway with his posture stooped into a slouch, mouth tilted in a sharp sulk, and the hand that isn't on the door crammed in a pants pocket. His brows are knit with pre-existing irritation and the dark circles beneath his bright yellow-and-gray eyes look just as consistently heavy and ragged as ever.

Somehow, he doesn't look tired.

"This better be really fucking fast."

It doesn't occur to him to look up before leaving himself open.

[riseup]

It doesn't occur to John, either. Two peas in the world's dumbest pod.

"It will be quick like a bunny," he says off-hand. Despite this, there's a moment where John just stares. Is this weird in the cultural gap way, or weird in a friendship boundaries way? Or both? Oh man, please don't be both. John has always gotten his buddies sentimental gifts, but this is different. Therefore it's weird. Oops, not quick at all! Just sort of staring blankly like a dumb human dog!

He fumbles to bring the gift around, still holding it close to him as he babbles an explanation. "I don't know what troll Christmas is like, but on human Christmas all the presents are wrapped so you don't know what you're getting. But this was not really a thing that I could wrap, so." An awkward beat before he stretches his arms out toward Karkat and offers the plastic habitat up. John puffs his cheeks and looks between the crab and Karkat. Finally, he settles his eyes on the bedraggled troll.

"He doesn't have a name yet. I have been feeding him dry cereal and I think he likes it." Time to stop moving, mouth. "Merry Christmas, Karkat." Seriously, quit forming words and thinking it's a great idea to spit them out. John pushes the crab habitat (haha, crabitat) at his friend once more for emphasis and prays for a quick, painless acceptance.

All in all, the crabdelivery was a success. Really.

[ihateyouetc]

Two peas in their own world's dumbest pods, competing for the championship of which peapod is the most criminally stupid. (It's too soon for these metaphors to be sharing pods.)

His mouth quirks, split like a skeptical sneer while he stares at John, who stares back like the incredibly retarded abyss, no sign of intelligent or unintelligent life. He manages to say, "John, bunnies are supposed t-" but doesn't finish with the rest of it, which would have been: -o be really fucking fast. So fucking fast, they're even faster than what I meant when I said this better be fucking fast. What you are doing is like the process of a slowly rotting bunny corpse. Seriously, this thing has been dead for who the fuck knows how long and it hasn't even started rotting yet because it died in sub-zero temperatures.

He does succeed at thinking something to the effect of: not your shitty human Christmas with the fat red asshole, but we had 12th Perigee's Eve, which is way better and superior in every aspect. You wouldn't even know ab--

What?

Irritation drops from his face, replaced by something much closer in resemblance to a confused human dog while John keeps blathering on and on about things Karkat isn't really paying attention to. His eyes move from John to the crab; from the crab to John. To the crab. To John. Crab. John. Crab. John. Crab. John.

John has accomplished the nigh-impossible: Karkat's back has straightened, as if the sheer horror of this thoughtful gift has forced his spine to right itself without the assistance of corrective surgery. His eyes are wide; brows twisted in what could be terror. Shortly afterward his expression becomes strangled by shock.

It would be an understatement to say he looked a little startled.

Kind of really startled.

A lot startled.

Really, really startled.

The way startled feral cats look.

Okay. He can get through this. Just look at he crab again. Don't look at John. Now say something. "Uh." Yes, good! Congratulations on your ability to contribute to the wonderful world of 'forming sounds.' You are now right on level with a little pink human monkey baby. Would you like to try some words next?

"I..." Yes, excellent start.

His jaw clenches.

Oh. No. That's not progress.

Karkat's brain tries to put the information in coherent order. It doesn't have a name. He? He doesn't have a name. He's a crab. He's a Christmas gift? Bluh bluh, bluhbluh dry cereal? Something like that?

He finds himself accepting the habitat absently, eyes still wide even after the initial horror-shock went away, replaced by an even worse feeling: he can feel his mutant red blood burning in his face. If anyone has ever wondered if trolls were capable of blushing, they probably weren't John Egbert. They also probably weren't standing in front of a troll on Christmas Eve, pushing a crabitat onto them like John Egbert (hanging out under a doorway under which neither of them looked up; who cares for details during a parasitic plant-caused mass-kissing plague?), who was in the prime position to find out yes, in fact, they can and it's also fairly visible. How wonderfully terrible, the mysteries of a completely different species showing embarrassment the same way!

This is among the most awkward experiences he's had since he's been here.

"You..." A pause, then: "Complete fucking idiot. I can't believe you." Can't believe what?

Okay, get a hold on the situation.

Please don't want to kiss him.

Oh shit. Wow. Okay, no. That isn't getting a hold on the situation at all. Why was he even thinking about that? It's time to stop now, haha! That would be the worst. This is the worst timing. Please don't want to kiss him in front of the new crab. On top of that, why did he even care about kissing him in front of the crab? He isn't watching. He probably doesn't even care. He's a crab. Why was that a thing that entered his brain regarding his new human crab pet -- which a human put in a habitat. And brought to him.

Oh God. It won't go away.

[riseup]

Well, that went about as well as could be expected.

John's eyebrows knit together briefly. Of course he's an idiot. When isn't he an idiot? He's about to shoot something back, something that's not as witty as it sounds in his head, when he notices the flush across his alien friend's face. Good thing Karkat's blood isn't some crazy color like blue or purple, because then it would just look creepy. As it stands, it's just awkward. Suddenly he's hyper-aware of his hands. What does he normally do with his hands? John tries his sides, this weird sort of in-between hanging-in-the-air place that makes him look like more like a fool, the pouch of his hoodie. Seriously, where do they go?

"Sorry?" One hand drifts to the back of his neck and hangs there, just as awkward as everything else in this situation. But the apology isn't meant to be genuine and he doesn't offer to take the gift back. He knows Karkat, knows that "I can't believe you" probably means "I don't know how to say thanks, so: thanks, you complete fucking idiot." (The idiot part really never changes.)

John moves to take a step or two backward, give Karkat and his new crab friend their space, except it doesn't quite work. It doesn't work at all. He stays firmly rooted to the spot, despite his best efforts, almost like he's—

Trapped.

Only then does Dumbfuck Peapod #1 deign to look up.

"Oh."

That's it? Just oh? Not oh shit or oh fuck or oh goddammit not again or oh this is going to get really awkward really fast or oh well I guess I'll just stand here for the rest of my life or until that plant shrivels up and dies, whichever comes first. No, just a single oh, exhaled on a breath like an accident. Eventually, he drags his eyes back to Karkat and the crab. Now his own ears are burning, and before he can think about what he'll say to diffuse the situation, John blurts out: "Well, this was pretty bad timing!"

[ihateyouetc]

The awkward reenactment of a some sort of ridiculous swan dance courtesy of John Egbert's floating, flailing, stupid hands doesn't go unnoticed, but there are more important things to be concerned about. His face feeling like someone just set a fire on it doesn't help the situation, but it's not exactly Karkat's primary concern.

When John looks up, some of the color drains from his face like someone going pale with dread. At the very least, that explains the spontaneous and seriously-not-at-all-in-any-way-acceptable-or-appropriate urge to kiss the complete fucking idiot in front of him while holding a habitat which contains a crab.

His gaze travels upward slowly, teeth visibly grit while his brows settle into a familiar feature: unadulterated irritation. "Oh!" He snaps, but it's obvious by his tone it's more of a mockery than actual surprise.

Too bad the stunned, blushing silence doesn't last. He's almost tolerable when he isn't talking.

"How completely precious. We are exactly where we assumed we'd be before you decided this would be a stellar idea -- the brightest fucking star comprising the whole universe of your so-called thoughts, which are generally null and void anyway, so I guess this shining abomination is about to fizzle out! Hey, remember when I told you to stay the fuck away and you said you didn't plan on leaving your shitty hive?"

Somewhere in the process of talking, he looks to John and then to the crab again. It's terrible, the way his brows strain so hard to try to meet at the center of his face and his mouth curves further down, as if he's trying to think of something. He turns the habitat a little to get a better look at the crab from another angle, like someone trying to figure out the best way to hold it.

Which isn't entirely correct. He knows how to hold it just fine. It's just... if it's turned this way, it probably can't see, right? Most likely it can't see. And it's not like it can talk, so it can't berate him for it. It can't clack and fuss; screech and hiss at him for taking so long. It can't hit him or beat on him as a method of communication.

But even so, he still doesn't really like the idea of having it witness this. He can't even go back inside to get a towel or something to cover it with. Shit, maybe if he sets it down and takes his shirt off to cov--okay, no. That was a stupid idea. Why did he even think of that? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

When he looks back at John again, his mouth twitches before he says, "This is all your fucking fault, so YOU hurry up and get it over with." And as if it isn't bad enough, he adds, "And try to like, I don't know. Move to the left a little, I guess? Your left. I mean, I don't think he can see it from there if I hold it like this."

Excellent priorities.

[riseup]

Karkat's rant doesn't go ignored. Truth be told, it's kind of impossible to ignore those. John mutters under his breath, "I forgot about not leaving my hive— apartment. Dammit." His focus drifts to the crab as well. Not that he'd admit it, but John spent a long time combing the beach for the least-ugly hermit crab he could find. After two weeks of figuring out how to take care of it and having unnerving googly-eye staring contests, he has to admit it is kind of cute. In a weird crustacean way.

No, stop thinking about cute things and focus on— why is he moving the crabitat? Why is crabitat such a funny word?

When he can't stare at its bulbous little claws anymore, John meets Karkat's eyes again. He's about to suggest an alternative, like maybe wait it out and see if it goes away (it won't) or play with the crab for a while (how do you even do that) when Karkat speaks first.

Haha, wait, what.

John's initial non-reaction to the mistletoe was born out of duh, of course this stupid thing happened. Like, why wouldn't it? That is pretty much his luck. He didn't actually stop to consider what it meant. It didn't occur to him that he would have to kiss the alien friendleader. Like, really do it.

With his mouth.

John's words go on autopilot, which is always a recipe for greatness. "The left?" As if on cue, his head cocks to the left, effectively kicking his resemblance to a confused dog up a few notches. "So he won't see?" A beat before it hits, and the life enters his face again. "Oh my god, the crab? Seriously?" Despite the situation, or perhaps because of the sheer discomfort and ridiculousness, he cracks up. "You're worried about the crab seeing us?"

Frankly, he would be more worried about Karkat's roommate, or a neighbor in the hallway. Or Jade with her bizarre omniscient spacey powers. Shit!

Okay, focus. When the chuckles finally subside, John's left with only the growing knot in his stomach and his rapidly increasing heart rate. "Haha, uh." Great start! "Okay, I guess we are making this happen," he says.

Pause. Deep breath. Take a step closer. Wait— John abruptly takes off his glasses. After getting caught with enough girls, he'd realized that they just kind of get in the way. Glasses in one hand. Where does the other hand go? Instinctively, he reaches for Karkat's wrist — his right wrist, the same one he grabbed last time— no, don't think about that. It'll make it at least ten times weirder, minimum. (It created you. Wow, stop thinking about it!) But Karkat's hands are busy with the habitat, shielding the hermit crab to preserve what little dignity they have. Okay, stop staring, hand placement, figure it out. Eventually, his hand falls to Karkat's shoulder, which probably isn't super neutral but he's kind of losing control of his brain functions.

There's something to be said for essentially being nose to nose with your best troll friend and not being able to conjure a single coherent thought. Not that that's a particularly rare occurrence for John, but still. Under serious threat, he probably wouldn't be able to utter a single bluh.

He does manage to give himself a sort of internal countdown, like when you're waiting to swallow cough syrup and you really don't want to but you know you need to so you say you'll do it when you count down to one (but you still do two and a half, one and three quarters, anything to prolong the inevitable). Except maybe this is a little different. Also, he's just kind of breathing on Karkat's face, and that needs to stop. It needs to stop in approximately five, four, three, two—

Graceless, that's the word for it. John's eyes are squeezed shut so tightly as he presses their lips together, and he has the brief, fleeting hope that Karkat's eyes are closed too. Please be closed, because he probably looks really stupid, and oh god please don't break his mouth. That's a real concern, slightly more important than whether or not the crab is watching.

Seriously, what was that all about?