Really, it does. It starts off small and simple. Things no one will miss. A hairtie. A discarded shirt. A blanket or two. Seriously, in a world where everything is alchemized and Dave (not you, the other one) managed to work the grist mill enough to give you all a goddamned fucking lifetime of grist, like a neverending grist waterfall, there is almost nothing they canât remake time and time again, better and better still.
(Sort of like you, but you ruthlessly squash that thought as you arrange your stolen goods in a forgotten corner of the golden ship.)
Of course, things donât stay simple.
In your experience, that much, at least, is a constant.
You fight it as much as possible, fight this urge to take and nest and hold things and just preen and fluff up and show off because youâre not actually a bird, but your mind, instincts, scream otherwise. You have to. You literally cannot stop yourself once you see something that you know would go well in your nest. Which is what it is, when youâre being honest with yourself.
Jade starts getting a bit suspicious when you keep asking to go onto the planets when you keep coming back with more and more pillows and blankets, but she keeps her mouth shut, white ears twitching in tacit understanding of the animal bullshit you both have to put up with now. She waves you off and, thankfully, says nothing.
John, on the other hand.
Well, John is an unobservant head-stuck-in-the-terrible-movies-he-loves sort of guy in the first place, so John probably wouldnât have noticed if you hadnât tried to grab him and put him in the nest too.
(It wasnât your best day.)
âDavesprite, what are you doing?â he asks, flailing out from under the blanket you put on top of him.
Well that wonât do. You tuck the blanket around him again, a chittering caw coming from your mouth, and John stills, blue eyes blinking up at you. Satisfied that he isnât moving now, you keep packing stuff around him, soft things, things heâd like, his blankets and you.
You werenât exactly planning on that last part, but man, when it comes down, you want to be there too, so you just go with it, settling yourself against his side, tail flopped over his legs. John laughs, ruffling the feathers below your chin, and when you blink curiously down at him, he just scratches your head with long, clever fingers.Â
âYou could have just said something,â John says wryly.
âWhere the fuck is the fun in that, dude? No fun whatsoever. Shouldâve just done it in like, Morse Code or the hand-wavy nonsense that people on ships and planes do. Spell it out in flags. Watermark something again. This was way, way easier, you have to admit,â you mutter, angling your neck so he can get a particular spot below your ear. He accommodates you, the kind soul, and you sigh happily.Â
Sigh again when his mouth replaces his fingers, kissing along your jaw. John gently kisses your mouth, soft, patient, and when you finally pull away to nuzzle his neck, he allows it, moving only enough to burrow further into the nest. âThis is nice.â
âMm.â
âNaptime?â
âNaptime, John. Go to sleep.â
He hums and does, and you lay there with Johnâs heartbeat beneath your ear and hope that he stays here, safe and warm and where you can protect him forever.
JohnDave Week 2k16, Day 3: First Date / Confession
Anonymous asked: So I just discovered your johndave romcom au and I have to say that it is absolutely amazing; it's like the au I never knew I needed (omfg and now i can't stop thinking about John in a lettermans jacket?! >////<) anyways, if your feeling up to it could you maybe write about how they end up dating? Like the asking out part or the actual date part lmao. Also you're an amazing writer and honestly so inspiring!! Thanks you for your time and your wonderful work!!
((AUGH THANK YOU SO MUCH OH MY GOD. John totally has a letterman jacket, l b r. Totally using this prompt as Day 3. Feel free to check out the rest of the au here.))
It is the worst day that you think youâve ever lived through.
You wake up late. Bro doesnât have time to bring you into school, so you have to run through an absolute deluge of rain, which wouldnât be so bad if your shoes hadnât just gotten worn through to the point of holes finally, so your socks get soaked too, along with, well, the rest of you. It doesnât help that you and Bro had a massive screaming argument last night that ended in a lot of slammed doors and a lot of pissed off feelings because what the fuck did he think he was even doing, raising a kid like you but being the way he is.
So you are wet, dripping, by the time you get to school. Which is freezing, because of course the school doesnât compensate for sudden cold fronts, so youâre even colder than usual and miserable.
(Plus, you donât see John before class, because heâs already in his, because, oh yeah, again, late. Which, psh, doesnât matter because whatever right? You donât need that particular tremble of your heart to get your day started.)
Your things are all soaked, beyond all hope of saving. Including every inch of your homework, which your teachers universally decide to be assholes about, because they all say theyâre not going to take it. So youâll have to do it again and accept half marks (for some of them) or not bother to turn it in at all and get no marks whatsoever.
And all your friends are avoiding you.
You donât notice that at first, but Terezi is kind of hard to miss when she just giggles at something Vriska says to her and waves her hand in your general direction. She doesnât come over. They clear out when you try to meet up with them. And none of them are there for lunch, and with it raining, you and John canât eat on the rooftop like your stupid fucking animes.
Fuck this.
Fuck all of this.
Youâre pissed and tired as hell and about ready to just fucking give up entirely when school finally ends, and you stalk angrily down to your locker, which you havenât even had a chance to stop by today because of how much bullshit is going on and you just. Breathe. Take a deep breath. Lean your head against the cool metal of your locker. Blindly do the combination, then swear and pull away to do it again, only properly this time. Every delay just adds up more and more to your anger though, and you finally wrench the locker open.
To see a note.
You pause right before slinging your backpack in there (because youâll be fucked before you take it home to deal with any of the rest of the bullshit tonight), which thankfully spares the simple, white note.
Carefully, you pick it up. The words âTo Dave,â are written on the front, nothing on the back, and you open it up curiously.
Hey Dave,
So youâll probably think this is like, the lamest thing ever, which is dumb because you exist, heehee. But anyway, I was wondering if you could fill out the survey below and bring it to me when youâre done! Iâll be at the diner across the street after school. Milkshake or hot chocolate is on me.
You look at the bottom of the paper.
Do you want to go on a date with me?
â Yes
â Absolutely
And then lower still:
(I rigged it.)
You.
You canât breathe.
Of fucking course heâd make a Gravity Falls reference, the fucking loser.
You crumple the note in your hand, slam your locker shut without bothering to toss your backpack in there after all, and practically sprint out of the building. The diner isnât far, just a block away, across the street, and you impatiently shift from foot to foot as you wait for it to be safe to cross, because you can see him. You can see John from where youâre standing and you need to be in there right now because you.
You need to.
Finally, though, you can cross, and finally, finally, you open the door into the diner, and John is already on his feet, turning to face you when you barrel into him and cling for good life.
His hand, warm, comes up to your shoulder, your back. You can hear the furious thrum of his heartbeat as you press yourself closer, even though you have to bend slightly to do it. Itâs so worth it. You canât think straight. Youâre too happy. Too. Overwhelmed.
Because yes.
âIs this a yes, then?â he asks you breathlessly, and you nod furiously into the curve of his neck, and you canât even complain when he whoops loudly right next to your ear, when he picks you up and whirls around and finally sets you in the booth across from him, smiling his lopsided, beautiful smile.
It is the worst day that brings you the best thing ever, and you think that somewhere, in the cosmic, karmic sense of the universe, that it all might even out to be pretty okay.
