CONNOISSEUR OF THE VISUAL ARTS.

WELL SLAP ME STUPID, A FEW OF YOU SAD, LIFELESS FREAKS ACTUALLY FIND MY LIFE INTERESTING. GOOD FOR YOU, YOU MUST HAVE NO STANDARDS. MY NAME IS KARL VARGAS AND THAT IS WHAT YOU MAY CALL ME--NOT KARLY, NOT KARLOS, NOT VARGASS. KARL GODDAMN VARGAS. MOST OF YOU ARE PROBABLY HERE BECAUSE YOU WENT ON A QUEST TO FIND THE PERSONAL BLOG OF THE GENIUS THAT CREATED A ONE KARKAT VANTAS. I'M HAPPY TO REPORT YOUR SUCCESS. NOW LEAVE.

[wwastinawway-blog]

Don’t lie to me, Karl.

> Furrow your brows at him before just putting your utensil down slowly, as if calculating your move carefully. You can’t just kiss him, it’s hard to lean across the table and he keeps pulling away. You could do something cute, like blow him a kiss,  but that might just get him to roll his eyes at you. You needed the perfect course of action.

> Splash your cup of water gracefully at his shirt

Oh shit.

[anextremefuckup-blog]

> Ohohohohohohohoho, how bold of him. But you know the perfect rebuttal to this, one that you know he can't have any sort of a counter to.

> Take off your shirt.

> After enjoying the stupefied look on his face for a few seconds, you push yourself away from the table and wander over to the couch, turning on the television and flipping mindlessly through the channels.

> Check, and mate.

[wwastinawway-blog]

I do- 

> Okay, saying you didn’t care would probably just embarrass yourself further, so you sigh and frown at him before taking your fork again and grabbing the entirity of the lasagna remaining on Karl’s plate. You just sort of stuff it at his face.

Finish eatin’, then, you fuckin’ tease.

[anextremefuckup-blog]

Who's teasing?

> You.

I'm not teasing.

> Yes you are.

All I did was eat my food and help you finish yours. I just figured it would be easier to use your fork rather than get mine in the way.

> You're such a little shit, but you finish off the lasagna on his fork anyway before wiping your mouth on your napkin and looking at him smugly. It's his move now.

[wwastinawway-blog]

> Swallow slowly and bring the fork out of his mouth with an obvious purpose to it, eyes just sort of set on his face. You can feel your face heat up just a little bit as you keenly hone in on another piece of lasagna, this time eating it yourself and just staring at Karl before finally speaking.

I..

> Okay that’s all you’ve got. You can’t help it. You’ve still got a fork in your hand as you lean forward and try to kiss him across the table.

[anextremefuckup-blog]

> Succeeeeeeess.

> When he leans across the table you lean back a little, just out of his reach. He whines and it's so fucking unashamed and adorable you just about melt into a pile of dumbass.

You're going to get lasagna everywhere if we do this across the table, stupid.

> Still, he leans forward a little more and you roll your eyes before stopping him with a finger on the lips.

I mean it.

[wwastinawway-blog]

I… dunno. It just seems like-

> Did he just.. oh my god. You stare as he eats your shitty lasagna right off your utensil and just squint right at him.  Slowly, you put your fork down to get another chunk of food, then point it at Karl, as if daring him to do it again.

[anextremefuckup-blog]

> The plan proceeds as expected.

> You accept his blatant dare and wrap your lips around his fork again, looking at him with an expression that clearly says that you're winning this. If the fact that he's going to town on his bottom lip means anything, the victorious end is in sights.

[wwastinawway-blog]

> Close your mouth quickly and stop gaping before just nodding.

Right. Eatin’.

> Pick at your plate and just.. keep staring at him as if he wouldnt notice.

[anextremefuckup-blog]

What else could I POSSIBLY be doing?

> Certainly not trying to work him up a little bit because it's more fun than straight out suggesting that hey, it would be totes bangarang if we got shirtless on the couch and made out, right?

> That is for losers.

> You are a winner, or you're about to be as soon as he caves.

> He has some lasagna on his fork when he brings it up slowly and you just kind of... intercept it. With your mouth.

[wwastinawway-blog]

> Stare at Karl as he devours your half-burnt lasagna.  You picked at your own, casually moving it to his plate when he wasn’t looking, but now you were focused completely on staring right at him.

Karl wwhat the fuck are you doin.

[anextremefuckup-blog]

> You pause halfway through basically giving your fork oral sex and raise an eyebrow at him.

Eating.

> Little tiny smile.

[anextremefuckup-blog]

> Eat some terrible lasagna cooked up by your boyfriend without being fazed one bit.

> You're a simple man with simple needs.

> Food? > Food good. > Food look bad, though. > Still food. > So food good. > Eat food.

> Of course, though, just eating it isn't enough. You decidedly eat it in a fashion that makes him visibly uncomfortable because you are, and always will be, a gigantic asshole.

[deadallalong-blog]

its not a love affair its a an admiration crush

i cant help it if he also happens to be incredibly attractive

adventure doesnt always have to be big showy traveling here and there 

[anextremefuckup-blog]

I GUESS

I CAN

AGREE WITH THE FACT THAT HE'S SORT OF A BABE, YES. NOT SO MUCH ANYMORE, THOUGH.

AH YES, I LOVE THE SIGHT OF OLD MAN IN THE AFTERNOON AFTER A LONG DAY OF DOING NOTHING BUT WATCHING MOVIES.

AND ADVENTURE SHOULD TAKE YOU TO FAR AWAY PLACES, AND WHILE YES, IN TEMPLE OF DOOM HE'S SOMEWHERE VAGUELY EXOTIC, IT DOESN'T HAVE THE SAME GLOBE-TROTTING ADVENTUROUS FEEL AS RAIDERS AND LAST CRUSADE.

DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON CRYSTAL SKULL. THAT IS AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT CAN OF WORMS.

[anextremefuckup-blog]

I’M WATCHING INDIANA JONES AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE THESE MOVIES.

[anextremefuckup-blog]

THESE ARE LITERALLY THE SHITTIEST MOVIES IN EXISTENCE, WHY AM I WATCHING THEM?

[deadallalong-blog]

you were doing so well

[anextremefuckup-blog]

I FORGOT ABOUT YOUR LOVE AFFAIR WITH THE YOUNGER HARRISON FORD, MY MISTAKE.

I MEAN I GUESS I'VE SEEN WORSE MOVIES. THESE AT LEAST HAVE THE ADVENTURE ASPECT, EXCEPT FOR TEMPLE OF DOOM, FUCK TEMPLE OF DOOM. HE JUST STAYS IN THE SAME PLACE THE WHOLE TIME. WHERE IS THE ADVENTURE?

[anextremefuckup-blog]

I’M WATCHING INDIANA JONES AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE THESE MOVIES.

[anextremefuckup-blog]

THESE ARE LITERALLY THE SHITTIEST MOVIES IN EXISTENCE, WHY AM I WATCHING THEM?

[anextremefuckup-blog]

I'M WATCHING INDIANA JONES AND I DON'T EVEN LIKE THESE MOVIES.

[wwastinawway-blog]

You’re done arguing the point now. Thoroughly done. You move each of your hands to the sides of his face and just keep him at your lips a little longer than he may have intended, but not so much that it’s awkward. After a few moments, you lean back and press a quick kiss to his chin before burying your head into his neck and sighing with an obvious sense of tired happiness.

“Good. And… right back at you, you knoww. Evverythin’, I mean, that bit, and wwhat you said before. You knoww I lovve you more than anythin’.” You realize all you’ve done is gush at eachother since he got here, which is fine by you, but you figure he may get tired of it quickly so you lean back just a bit to rest your head on your arm like a pillow and look over at him.

“It’d be good for you to sleep, if you could.”

[anextremefuckup-blog]

You scoooooooooch down until you're laying on his chest because fuck everything, you want to be held tonight. It doesn't take long before you're octopus'd around Eric and holding tightly. "No promises on sleeping but it might be easier with you here."

Yes it's cheesy and kind of lame but you don't care, you have a warm boyfriend to try to fall asleep on.

You're out in five minutes.

[deadallalong-blog]

i dont pretend to know how your hormones work al

[wwastinawway-blog]

its pretty easy

[wwastinawway-blog]

“I guess wwe’re both just a couple a hot pieces a ass, huh? Fittin’ enough, really.” You lean just a bit, to sit more comfortably not to move away from Karl. You don’t even notice it, but your hand has moved up to your own neck, rubbing at it a bit sheepishly as you just let his words from a moment ago roll through your mind and tug your lips into a smile. The truth of the matter was, although you had taken note that he likes your hair down, you’d been wearing it this way because it lets your hair cover the protruding fin-like additions to your ears, as well as the gill slits under them.

“Buuut, I don’t havve scraggletooth or a unibroww, and I don’t wwant to. If I get those things I wwant you to tell me, Karl. Seriously.” You just sort of laugh, though, because if anything cheers you up its making fun of Sullivan and being complimented.

[anextremefuckup-blog]

Okay, now he's just being ridiculous. You roll your eyes and sigh deeply, raising an eyebrow at him.

He raises one back.

You raise your other eyebrow.

The look is returned.

You stick your tongue out at him and scoot a little closer. "You could be the ugliest motherfucker this side of the United States and it wouldn't change anything, you know that, right? I'm still going to be here and we're still going to be a thing, and I'm still going to do this." You grab him by his stupid scarf and pull him in for a rather languid kiss.

[wwastinawway-blog]

You know he’s kidding. You can tell he’s kidding, he’s even smiling a bit, he’s just kidding. Stop frowning. Goddamnit, even if you know he doesnt mean it, you still give him your sad little Icantbelieveyousaidthat face as he goes on and on and on, opening your mouth to tell him to stop up until-

Oh shit that took a turn. You can feel your face heating up into a deep red as he speaks, and it doesnt usually get that bright. You can’t even say anything once he’s done, just accepting his kiss and moving a hand up to cup at his cheek once he pulls away, as if trying to sustain the contact without talking into his face.

“…more than you can say is a LOT.” You smirk some and run a hand through his hair. “You’d better not actually think I’m ugly though, Karl. Novvels a lovve or not.” Your tone is obviously unoffended now, and you’re focused on running your hands through his hair now. “Then again, anyone wwould be next to you.”  You mumbled it, sure, but you said it.

[anextremefuckup-blog]

Ptthbbtht. "Shut up. You know who's attractive beyond measure? You. If you want to talk about ugly then we can talk about Sullivan. What a twiggy little shit, I don't even know what Alyssa sees in him. Clearly she's not with him for his looks. Can't be for his personality either, that also sucks an entirely unexplored level of balls." He lets out a little laugh and that's how you know you're doing okay with trying to pull him out of his slump. You can't pull yourself out of your own, but like hell are you going to let him fester in his.

You brush some of his hair out of his face and just sort of look at him for a moment. He didn't bother using any sort of hair product today, and probably because the entire lot of you dropped out of school and there's no real use for it. Maybe also because you told him you like it when it's down, who knows. But there's a lot to love about him appearance-wise, if you even cared about that. He has a nice jaw line, his eyes are fucking spectacular, he has the cutest dorky smile because he still doesn't quite know how to smile without it looking forced, and your heart melts every time he wiggles his ears because duh, wiggly ears.

"I don't care about what you look like, Eric. You could have a scraggletooth and a unibrow and I'd still love you."

[wwastinawway-blog]

Your frown deepens significantly when he says that, although you had basically figured he hadn’t been. You move a hand over to his shoulder, ignoring the touches to your face (or at least appearing to, even if you feel your heart flutter to this day each time he did that). “..I’vve been busy, and shit. I guess wwe’re both kinda bad at takin’ care a ourselvves, though, no defendin’ i-” Your face freezes a bit when he teases at the bags under your eyes. You KNEW he was joking, but you still put your free hand to your face quickly. 

“Really??”

[anextremefuckup-blog]

"Yes," you reply, monotone. "You are so goddamn ugly right now that the mere sight of your face abhors me to a degree beyond the simplicity of human measure and I'm only here because I feel a deep pity for you for having succumbed to this unnatural hideousness. That's the only reason I'm still here holding you and giving a shit when I clearly could be doing much more interesting and less vomit-inducing things.

"This is, of course, completely forgetting the fact that I love you more than I can say, and that I spend every second of the day thinking about you, and that I sort of want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how short it may be. So that might factor into it just a bit." Your finger trails down his cheek and you trace his bottom lip slowly before scooting in the few inches or so to kiss him softly, but with purpose.

It lingers as you pull away and you quirk a half-smile. "Just a bit, though."

[wwastinawway-blog]

Even though you’d been waiting for him, checking the door even, you still jump a bit when he enters. It’s a bit uncharacteristic for you, but you pass it off with a smile as if you were just greeting him with enthusiasm. “Hey Karl.”  Once he’s talking and next to you, you can’t help but break the ambiguous nature of the action just briefly by leaning over and giving him the quickest of smooches to the cheek, then settling down just a hair closer than you were before. 

“Fuckin’…tell me about it.” You let out a small sigh and let your face collapse down into the bed cover, burying into it. You weren’t going to mention just how tired you were exactly unless he asked. “You’vve been sleepin’, right?”

[anextremefuckup-blog]

You can't lie to him. "I don't sleep anymore," you mutter, burying your face into his hair and pulling him closer. "Haven't slept right in like two months. Maybe more, I don't know. Basically when all this shit started I just couldn't sleep anymore. And I can tell you haven't been sleeping either." Swiftly, you roll the both of you over so you're lying on your sides facing each other and kiss his forehead, then his nose, then the corner of his mouth. "Your eyebags have bags, dude, you're a fucking wreck," you chide as you trace them with your finger gently.

The mood is heavy with the impending knowledge of near-doom; why not try to lighten it by joking a bit?