'Happy birthday, John.'
Rose turned to her friend with a weak smile, albeit a genuine one. John averted her gaze and looked down at the ground, running one hand through his messy black hair while trying to disguise his puffy, red eyes.
'I still miss Dad… I wish he could be here. I mean, 18 is sort of a milestone, huh.'
'I'm sure he'd be so proud of how far you've come. Look at you, you're an adult man now.'
'Yeah, I guess… but I still feel like the same old kid who was excited to play his brand new copy of Sburb. The same old kid who just ran into things without thinking. The same old dorky John Egbert.'
A solitary tear rolled down his face, and he sniffed weakly, imagining the sweet taste of his father’s birthday cakes, along with the scent of tobacco and Barbasol he carried everywhere he went…
'It's my fault, isn't it?', he asked, with a crack in his voice.
'Of course not, the same apocalypse would have come about regardless of whether you played the game or not; we both know that.'
Rose wiped the tear from his face and gave him a peck on the cheek, which made a light blush spread across his freckled features.
'I'm so proud of you, John. Happy 18th birthday.'
ARCHIVE VERSION ( recommended! )
Yet another dumb grimdorks drabble based off my cousin’s headcanon, and poorly written by me.
That conversation happened over twenty minutes ago. You already wish you’d gotten someone else to assist you in finding him, as it has proved to be quite a challenge. Not to mention, he’s not very responsive. This is your mission, however. You have to be the one to find him a help him.
Mist, drifting eerily through the room, leaving a nexus of fog that swirled and eddied about a foot above the ground. Mood music, fitting and tasteful, a combination of swelling strings and the ambiance of a summer storm. A flash of light, and an almighty wizard stood in the doorway, framed by light in a most dramatic and appropriate fashion. Within the cushion-filled room reclined another wizard, broad of shoulder and strong of jaw beneath his beard.
"At last we meet, Zazzerpan," said the wizard in the doorway, voice sharp and dark even while her form was soft and curved, sheer robe clinging to her in the cool air.
"Frigglish," rumbled the reclining wizard in greeting, eyes roving up her body and appreciating the fetching bushiness of her beard. "It appears you have found me at last." He stood, tall and strong. His robe fell open as he did so, revealing a dark, toned body, a cloud of hair on his chest and trailing from his navel, and….
Frigglish put her face in her palm.
Zazzerpan—John— stood stonefaced. A wizard’s cap stood proudly from his groin, and his hands were on his hips.
"Are you impressed by the might of my wizard’s staff?" Frigglish’s second hand joined her first, a morose position that caused John’s eyes to glimmer; with mirth or sadism, Frigglish wasn’t sure.
"Look at it, so powerful. A positive monolith of virility, if I do say so. And I do."
"John, oh my god." John swaggered over to his beloved, exaggeratedly swinging the cap as he went.
"Why, Frigglish, what’s that behind your ear?"
John reached behind her ear, seeming to pull a wrapped condom from thin air.
"Oh, my, look at this! It seems the magical powers are proponents of safe sex as well!" Frigglish—Rose— decided she had had just about enough. If he was going to play this game, then so was she.
"I suppose they do," she purred, pulling her robe open as well.
Her robe hit the ground.
His cap hit the ceiling.
this is one of the most beautiful things i have ever read, thank you for this
makaras asked: The one where Rose had a talk with John about how rude he can be sometimes, only she picked the worst timing as zombies were invading.
"And you see," lightning crackle cuts through three in a row, thirty points with a bonus five for style, "directly in front of our dear ecto-siblings," shockwave slam-bam-boom dissolves a snarling corpse, not too bad, fifteen points, "is, no matter what notions you may posses," now reel it in this time, combo that shit, hammer with a thunderburst, forty-five points at least, ”not a good time to cop a feel.”
"You are so wrong, Rose. So. Wrong. Every time is a good time for feels!" John says and whirls around to drive a gale force into a wave of corpses, clearing a path for her white-hot bolt of ruination. He grits his teeth in a vicious streak of a grin and pushes her molten magic in a circle that dissects all flesh it touches. When the circle clears of undead (for now), Rose sticks her wands in the back pocket of her jeans and shrugs.
"Hmm. Let’s test the theory," she says and reaches over to grab two handfuls of John’s butt, complete with a squeeze that makes him yelp in shock. "Ah! Well, then. I suppose I can concede this once."
Anonymous asked: Some nights Rose will wake abruptly to John wriggling into her bed, squirming next to her like a giant, ungainly puppy. It's mildly irritating, but she never complains--he only does it when his eyes are weary and still heavy with nightmare. Instead she lets him tuck his head against her sternum, where the sound of heartbeat lulls him back into calm. Before she falls back asleep, his hand finds hers, squeezing a "thank you" in her fingers. She'll smile and doze off rubbing his back.
1) OKAY i don’t know you (OR DO I???) but i love you
thelphenom asked: JohnRose snowball fights
(send me more beta kid prompts everybody, in the meantime have some cheesy, dumb grimdorks)
Normal snowball fights are known to get intense, but when four gods are involved, the stakes are higher. Whichever team loses pays for post-snowball hot chocolate.
"I fear we may be vastly outmatched," Rose says as she huddles down in a snow fort with John. Things are quiet - for now. "Jade is a natural at dodging with her space powers, not to mention she can create and wield multiple snowballs at once. She alone is a veritable army."
"Yeah," John agrees. "And not to mention that with Dave’s stupid time travel he can /literally/ make an army of his time clones." He grimaces. "Why did we match up this way again?"
Anonymous asked: hnnnghh why did you make me think of shy chubjohn and dominant rose i don't even like grimdorks. john outgrowing his clothes. rose taking his measurements for a new wardrobe. john getting blushy and squirmy when rose's hands brush against his bare chest and stomach. rose being all smirking and smug at first but then trying to reassure john with snuggles and nuzzles. why did you do this to me
rose finally getting the chance to meet john in washington and stay with him for a little while, slowly saving up money to meet the boy shes known online for so long only for her mom to practically whirl her out the door in a pile of travel money because she knows how close she and john are, and dad being more than happy to accommodate her after seeing how much john talks about her and spends time with her online
they finally meet and shes expecting him to just sweep her up and hug the shit out of her (and she wanted him to, to be able to ignore her facade where nobody else could) but he doesn’t, and even as they spend more time together he’s always just sort of keeping himself at arms length, and hes still cheerful and energetic and overjoyed to be around her and she very quickly adapts to a household of pranksters but whenever things seem like they’re going to get more intimate he always gets super sheepish and apologetic and “no no its fine haha really its not its ok seriously rose”
and it quickly becomes obvious to her that underneath all the enthusiasm about movies and games and all the jokes and effort he goes through to make her laugh (and he succeeds and its the best sort of embarrassing to her) and just how boisterous and fun he is that he’s really super insecure about himself and his body, always making sure she isn’t around when he changes, and shying away and laughing awkward and changing the topic whenever they brush up against each other (and theres so much of him to brush up against and she’ll never not adore it), and picking at his meals at dinner and skimping on dessert, and she can tell by the way dad’s brow furrows that it isn’t normal for john to be such a light eater but he doesn’t want to confront him about it in front of rose and embarrass him
Bleh, where is the anxiety emergency shut down button?
There are a FUCK TON of questions asked out of dialogue which is huge no no i think, but I tried my best to make it work! Let me know how I did.
Anyhoo! This is basically in which John asks himself every question he can think of, and is a very hormonal teenager.
There is minor talk of erotic dreams just fyi
”John, get up!” Jade hurls a pillow at your head, “Happy birthday, you big dweeb.”
“Give me a few more minutes…” You’re too lazy to open your eyes.
She scoffs before leaving the small room, “I already gave you an hour! And put some pants on, you’re gross!”
You lift your head to respond irritably, “I don’t wear pants to bed, weirdo!”
Your name is JOHN EGEBRT, and today is your SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY. To be truthful, you had no idea it was your birthday until Jade informed you so. You rub the slick drool off of your mouth and collapse into the sofa once again. For the first time in your life, you really rue your birthday - it means you’d actually have to get up today rather than sleeping the whole day. Jade has been badgering you about your sleeping habits recently, and it drives you up the wall. Reluctant to get out of your nest, you press your face into the nearest cushion and give a heaving groan of doom.
You dreamed of Rose Lalonde again last night.
"Are you familiar with that inexplicable feeling that something is crawling on you?"
Rose shifts restlessly in her sleeping bag. It’s been almost ten minutes since she turned out the lamp in the tent, and not one of them has been entirely free of some kind of paranoia. She’s certain there was nothing on or in her bedding when she went to lay down; she was careful to keep the tent closed when no one was entering or leaving, and so far has yet to see a single bug inside.
Next to her, John is still as a statue except for the even rise and fall of his chest. It’s a big sleeping bag, to be sure – big enough to fit them both, but not with much room to spare. It’s a rare moment when they’re not somehow touching.
"Yeah, of course,” he says. “Is that why you keep fidgeting? If you drive your bony elbow into my side one more time–"