Inkstuck

Your name is John Egbert and oh boy is this awkward.

You’ve decided to move to the Lalonde-Maryam living room to explain things.

You and Dave are sitting on one couch while Rose and Kanaya sit on the opposite couch.

Well, you say sit.

Dave is sprawled out on your lap like a cat would. His torso is being cushioned by your thighs and his limbs are skewed about on the couch. His shades are up and nestled in amongst his pale blonde hair.

Rose is sitting much like a psychiatrist would—legs crossed, notebook and pen in hand and scheming look on her face.

The ‘beast’ you Read from Rose’s paragraph has taken quite the liking to Kanaya. It’s not so much a beast once you realised what it really was—a Pokémon.

Considering your mother locked you away from as much media as she could, you never really got into Pokémon. So you have no idea which one it is and Dave doesn’t even know what Pokémon are. You’re way too shy to ask Rose and Kanaya.

The Pokémon is still pretty small, and quite adorable looking curled up on Kanaya’s lap.

After much debate, Kanaya decided to name it Whisker, after an old cat she and her sister owned when they were younger.

You’d say it’s a pretty bad name, but Dave wanted to name it Dildo and Rose wanted to name it Viceroy Snugglebutt. You yourself wanted to name it something equally stupid, but you felt way too embarrassed to speak up.

You’ve been really embarrassed and awkward ever since entering the Lalonde-Maryam house. Your mothers’ words ring in your ears, about how you’re fat and useless and no one will ever like you. That there's reasons your schoolmates don't like you. That you'll amount to nothing, because you're fucking idiotic scum.

You shake your head a little to clear those thoughts. You shift Dave in your lap and begin to tell your story.

“So umm, earlier, when I said that mother was gone? I meant I read her into this—“ You pull out the copy of Inkstuck from your satchel and place it on the coffee table.

“I-I didn’t mean too! B-but she and that other lady told me to read, so I did, a-and then Dave and Jack appeared and now they’re both loose somewhere, I don’t know—“

“Aww yeah, I am loose as a goose on a mongoose.” Dave interrupts, stretching out on your lap.

“Dave?”

“Yeah bro?”

“Please never refer to yourself as ‘loose as a goose on a mongoose’ ever again please.”

“But John!” He says, sitting up and twisting around so that he looks you dead in the eyes. “I am as loose as a goose on a mongoose. Honestly dude, I can’t believe that you’d degrade my identity like that.”

“Well too bad, I am the degradation police, here to destroy your hopes and dreams.”

“Le gasp! Oh no! What ever will I do?” Dave fake gasps, bringing his hand up to his mouth.

“You can put up your hands and give up on all your aspirations.”

Dave doesn’t reply, just puts his hands into twin pistols. “No. I believe it is you who needs to put their hands up!”

“He’s got a gun! No, he’s got two guns—quick, duck for cover!”

Too late, he mimes shooting his finger gun at you. You clutch your chest dramatically and begin sliding down the couch, Dave in tow.

“I’ve been hit…tell my…um…officers I love them.” You fake-gasp out, collapsing onto the floor. Dave falls on top of you, chuckling in a low drawl that you find really attractive.

Again, you’re struck down with the uncontrollable giggles.

You can’t help it, but Dave waits until you’ve finished before initiating a tickle fight.

Normally, you think you’d freak out if someone was touching you, full stop. But you trust Dave. You’ve loved and trusted him ever since the first time you finished his book. You’ve loved and trusted him even more ever since you read him out of his book.

He won’t hurt you.

So you tickle him back. Sure it’s hesitant and shaky, but the way he laughs makes it all worth it.

“Ahem.” Rose coughs, bringing you back to the present. “If the two of you would stop rolling around on the floor for two minutes, I have approximately two questions.”

“Only two?” You reply, sticking your head up from below the coffee table.

“Approximately two that I believe must be addressed immediately. First of all, where did Jack go? You never did specify where he went.”

You open your mouth to answer but Dave beats you to it.

“That cowardly motherfucker teleported away when John hit him over the head with a heavy ass book. Shit was great, like John was some kinda book ninja—swinging that book around like some kind of samurai sword.”

“I highly doubt that a book can substitute for a samurai sword. Perhaps a weapon like a hammer would be better?” Rose asks, smiling at you, black painted lips stretched in a kindly smile.

“I dunno, I just kinda hit him…I didn’t mean to hurt him—well actually, I kind of did.” You eye off the copy of Inkstuck on the coffee table.

“Alright so, ‘Mass Murderer loose in America.’ I have that one down.” Rose says, writing down notes in her notebook. “Now, John. Can you tell me more about this ‘other woman’?”

“Other woman? Like, the one who was transported to the Inkstuck realm with mother?” You ask after a few minutes of thought.

“Yes, I do. Can you describe her the best you can?”

You don’t really know what notebook-lady has to do with anything, but you try your best.

“Ummm, well she was really short and skinny. Her hair was bobbed and bleached blonde and smelled really bad. She didn’t even look at me. Mother said—um, w-well I…didn’t really look at her either.” Your thoughts become sour at the thought of your mother. You wish that your father had never died and left you with that horrible witch.

But you know that’s not how the world works—you can’t just wish for your problems to magically go away—you have to fix them yourself.

Your hurt must be quite visible because Kanaya gives you a pitying stare and you shift a little nervously under her gaze. Dave, somehow sensing your sadness by some weird, ironic telepathic best bro bullshit, brings you in for a big hug.

You close your eyes and lean into his body.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes before Rose speaks up again.

“So you are a Reader then.”

“Yeah well he just Read out a fucking Pokémon—whatever that is— an hour and a half ago.” Dave points to Whisker, who is happily purring on Kanayas’ lap.

You had to take a little nap after Reading Whisker out. It just feels, so draining to Read something out. Luckily, it wasn’t as tiring as it was with Dave and Jack. You guess because transporting four humans (you think) across dimensions would be more draining then only transporting two animals across dimensions.

By ‘little nap’ you meant you were pretty much unconscious for an hour and fifteen minutes. You still feel pretty tired, but Rose and Kanaya deserve an explanation—although you’re pretty sure that Rose already knows precisely what’s going on.

“It’s an Espeon, not just a Pokémon. It’s got psychic powers.” Rose sighs, giving Whisker an affectionate pat.

“I have powers too! Look, see?” Dave cries out, spreading his fingers and letting forth a burst of red light.

You gasp in amazement as the sparks fizzle out into little stars, before eventually fading away completely. You absolutely love magic—especially Dave’s magic.

The way Rose described it never did it any justice.

Each magician has a specific signature to their own magic.

A cruel and ill-meaning persons magic will stink of deceit and treachery. It will fill your nostrils with the noxious stench of black liquorice, rotten eggs and stinking garbage. Oftentimes you will see swirling clouds of black nothingness whenever they use their magic.

Their magic is never pleasant.

A kind and well-meaning persons magic will smell sweet and full of light and hope. It will fill the air around it with sweet, happy scents, such as citrus and rose petals. Their magic is bright and colourful, with stars and sparkles and beautiful rainbows.

Their magic is more beautiful then you could ever imagine. But seeing as Dave is using magic (once again) in front of you, you don’t need to imagine it.

The scent of strawberries and apples fills the room, fading as the brilliant crimson of Daves magic fades.

Noticing how amazed you are, he decides to show off a little more.

Red, orange and yellow lights gather around Daves hand. Underneath his skin, his veins glow with a flickering white light. It looks like he has the golden blood of the gods themselves.

He flexes his fingers out, sending out warm rays of light across the room. They reflect in his shades—the colours of the sunset against pitch black. There is a subtle orange glow to his features—mixed in with the mottled glow of his golden blood of Ichor.

The lights begin to form into a shape, twisting and spinning its way out of the confines of Daves palm. A glowing blue orb sat at the top, seemingly guiding the rest of the magic particles. It begins to take the shape of a majestic fire-breathing dragon.

It zoomed around the room once, before spotting you. If possible, it shines brighter as it hurtles towards you. You can’t stop giggling as it soars around you, shooting little stars as it goes.

Seeing your reaction as such as a positive one, Dave readies another fist. This time, the particles are cool coloured—icy-blue, sea greens and deep purples.

In the centre of the swirls of magic, a dark red orb glows. It leads the rest of the little lights over to the other red dragon. As they meet up, they begin to twist around each other, doing little pirouettes in the air.

You gasp in amazement and excitement, watching the two dance with wide eyes. They’re so graceful!

You glance over to Dave, and notice the huge smile on his face.

It’s beautiful.

It lights up his face in a spectacular way—even more spectacular than the twin dragons circling around you.

You can see dimples on his cheeks, as well as a light dusting of freckles. He is absolutely perfect and you love him so much.

Whenever you read Inkstuck (which was everyday) your crush on Dave grew and grew. But that was that—a stupid crush on a fictional character that would never work out. But now he’s here—and real! And your stupid crush has grown into what you think is probably love. Unfortunately for you, this crush will forever be unreciprocated.

“Dave, please stop showing off and stoking your massively inflated ego. I would like my house to be not burnt by magical dragon flames.” Rose says crossing her arms to her chest.

The dragons fade away, their roars subsiding into gentle whispers.

You hide your disappointment with a huge yawn.

“Really John? You just slept for like an hour.” Dave looks at you, all traces of the smile gone from his face. You frown a little at that, he shouldn’t have to hide that gorgeous smile of his.

But Dave isn’t some asshole you can force to smile just because you like it. Dave is his own person, and he has every right to be a poker-faced dork.

“Well maybe I’m still tired, have you thought of that?”

“You seemed pretty energetic before, when I showed you my sweet ass magic skills.”

“Yeah, that’s because I was trying not to barf.”

“What!? I thought you liked my fucking beautiful display of wonder. I didn’t go all out just for that shitty ass response.”

You respond with nothing but the maturist of answers—sticking your tongue out at him and pulling a funny face.

He puts his hand to his chest in offended gesture. He opens his mouth to probably give you a smart-ass comment about how offended he is and how you’re besmirching his maiden honour, but a yawn bursts from his lips instead.

“Hee hee hee! Who’s tired now? Hint-it’s you.”

“Shut up.” He mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “Those dragons kinda drained me and I’m tired.”

“Aw! Poor diddums!” You chuckle.

“Alright boys, time for bed. C’mon, I’ll tuck you in and make you some hot chocolate.” Kanaya has moved over to the two of you, Whisker perched on her shoulder. She leans down and helps the two of you up.

“Um, alright then. Goodnight Mrs Rose, thanks for everything.” You nod your thanks to Rose as Kanaya leads you away.

“No. Thank you.” She replies, a little strained and tired looking.

It’s only later, when you’re dozing off in the comfiest bed you’ve ever been in, that you begin wonder what she meant.

Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and looking after these two boys is just like having children of your own.

You’ve always wanted kids, but considering you’re a lesbian, you can’t have them. You and Rose could adopt, but the both of you are way too busy to do that. Your studio is way too dangerous for a little toddler to run around in. You mean, fashion can kill. Rose hates distractions when she’s in her study writing her books. A screaming toddler would give her a headache and make her really grumpy. Grumpy Rose does not like to have fun at all.

But, looking down at the two sleeping boys in front of you, you regret not getting children sooner.

They loved the hot chocolate you gave them. Despite being teenagers, they fell asleep to the bedtime story you read them (one of your own works, which you’ve been working on to impress Rose).

They both snore and move in their sleep—and you find it very endearing. You smile to yourself when you notice that they’re holding hands across the bridge between their beds.

Whisker hops down from your shoulder and trots towards the beds.

She shoots you a look that says ‘go to bed. I’ll watch over them for you.’

You decide to take Whiskers advice.

You bid them goodnight and leave the room, closing the door behind you.

You make your way to the master bedroom—the room you and Rose sleep in.

You’re tired—it’s been a long day and you want to go to bed and snuggle with your beautiful wife.

You’re so tired that once you enter your bedroom, you take no notice of its decorations and instead dive under the covers and scoot over to Rose.

“Are they in bed?” Rose asks you.

Rose is sitting up in bed and reading. The bedside lamp casts a warm yellow glow on the lilac walls of your bedroom. You press your face into her side and let out a tired moan.

“I’ll take that as a yes then. How were they?”

“Pretty good. They drank the hot chocolate and went right to sleep.”

“Oh. That’s good.” Roses answer is curt and clipped.

“What’s up? Is everything alright Rosie?” You ask, poking your head out from beneath the covers.

“Everything’s fine.” Again, her reply is curt and clipped. Her gaze is hard and steely and she stares straight ahead into the pages of her book. Seeing but not seeing.

“It’s about Dave, isn’t it?”

At those words, she starts crying. Great, heaving sobs that rack her entire body. You can do nothing but hold her as she bawls her eyes out.

You’ve met the original Dave before—he was loud and obnoxious and a huge asshole. He wore horrible shades all the time and had a terrible dress sense.

But he was Roses twin brother and (never admitted) best friend. They used to play together all the time. Rose even wrote a book about him (due to his insistence, but still)!

But then…when they were both sixteen. Dave committed suicide.

Rose stopped writing, stopped eating, stopped doing anything. She started drinking. It took everything you had to pull her out of her depression.

So now, having Dave walk back into her life must be so, so hard for her.

Especially for him not to be the one she grew up with.

“I’m so sorry Rosie-baby.”

“No.” She smiles at you, tears still streaming down her face. “I’m okay. Because this is a chance to start anew.”