Dave, sort your mind

Title: Dave, sort your mind
Rating: PG 15
Pairing(s): Dave/John
Warnings/Spoilers: Something short...ooc too probably
Summary: John tells Dave he loves him, the Strider thinks about it.
Disclaimer: Homestuck belongs to Andrew Hussie

You are sitting on your chair, your computer in front of you, you’ve been like that for a long time now, you don’t really know how much. You haven’t been counting.

He dropped those three words quite out of nowhere, John can do that, he’s like that sometimes. What you didn’t know was how serious he was about it.

EB: I love you
EB: I love you Dave

That’s all it took.
It never crossed your mind to be with your best friend in a romantic way, you are bros, buds, you are there for each other...but love must be like crossing some sort of red, thick line.
But then why? Why do you feel so happy? Why are you In Nirvana?
You feel like saying ‘I love you too’ but that’s uncool, too fast, too...too something. You can’t put a finger on it.
You want to put your arms around that derpy little frame and tell him you’ll be with him forever. Love might be asking too much. Perhaps you’re overjoyed.
You want to kiss him, memorize every little part of his body, you want to feel him and whisper in his ear ‘I love you John, I love you’.
Your mind is lost, conflicting. You don’t really know what to think anymore.

You never thought about being with John in a romantic way, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love him. It just never occurred to you that he could love you back.

You are Dave fucking Strider and you are in love with your best friend, you want to kiss him and make love to him, you want to be with him in an endless embrace.

TG: I love you too  

are you there yet?

You browse away the pages of a lifeless journey, a path too long to remember, a life to meaningless to keep track of. But those photos, those memories stuck in time mean more than you want to admit. Perhaps it's the nostalgia, the warm feeling of a make-belief family, the cold droplets of rain falling on your face, or the soft touch of a hand that has long been gone. You wonder if four years is really that long...is it?
There's crimson, yellow and blues, there's a present black spot in the corner of remembrance. And there you are, is that a baby picture? Is that really you?
You don't know, you can't tell; you can't seem to relate to that happy faced baby any more.
You've lost your way into life, trying different paths, are you there yet? Are you there yet?

this is actually about myself, but it sounds more Homestuck than anything else, dunno why. 

Those Big Ears

Title: Those Big Ears
Rating: PG 15
Pairing(s): Nameless original male character/nameless original male character
Warnings/Spoilers: It's somewhat of a romantic short story between a man and a half human creature of the male gender.
Summary: Well, it's really short so just read it kay? This work had already been posted here, I read it again, made some changes and decided to repost it.
Disclaimer: MINE, EVERYTHING IS MINE.
This is a work of fiction made during a creative writing exercise, last year.
 

A hug is nothing

I was standing there; the intense aroma of failure inebriating my senses, the desperation for touch making my head feel silly. All I wanted was to hug him.
Put my arms around him, feel the scent of the person I care for, feel the heat of skin covered by fabric, the shock of an action no one is really ready for. It’s all so impossible. It’s all so full of despair when that someone does not belong to you.
I felt a little stupid, imagining something that would never be real, and in that moment I thought, I should wear a warning on my neck ‘If you’re the one person I’ve always been waiting to meet, don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t mention me, I’ll fall in love in a flash.’
And yet, all I want is to hug you.

Emptiness

I feel empty, I feel like something's missing; much like Amy Pond did on her wedding day. I know there's something I'm forgetting, something I should be doing but I don't know what it is. I think, and I think and regardless of the fact that thinking is taking me nowhere, it's the only way I know how. But then I feel, I let that emptiness have full granted access to my heart, and it doesn't take long to understand just what exactly is missing. There's a sense of accomplishment that isn't there, there's an undeniable desire to end it all, and end it good, a lack of appreciation for all things given, a lack of love or empathy, existence of sorrow or pain for things I never really felt connected to. There's the lack of a solid personality that won't wobble with my complicated feelings, a solid ground for me to step on. There's something missing, and I still don't know what it is.

Characters for something (:

Tom Rush: The main character of our silly detective's story. He's a funny and carefree 27 year old detective that can't do much without a sidekick...that's you! He believes that vodka is the best beverage in the whole world, he despises romance novels but adores a good horror story. Most people consider him to be overly childish and irresponsible but he simply shrugs the thought away and says 'Life's no good without fun'. Tom seems to attract all kinds of people and that seems to work in his favour most of the time..however sometimes it ends up in a big, gigantic poop. He's the kind of person you would find in a cool jazz bar listening to good music, drinking some vodka and talking with the barman.

Patrick Sills: Tom's male sidekick, and mostly his conscience as well. Patrick is a 19 year old that believes milk is the best of beverages...yes, cow milk (later to find that he's actually lactose intolerant and must change to soy milk). He loves to listen some good old jazz so he and Tom often meet each other at Gilbert's bar. Patrick has a secret passion for soft romantic dramas that end up with some nice tears and one of the lover's dead, he sometimes makes references to his favourite books while solving crimes. Needless to say, his favourite type of crime is passionate and full of jealousy and drama, he loves drama. Patrick never admitted, but he's quite childish himself, being young and lacking experience in pretty much every single subject in life.

Lavanda Kate: Tom's female sidekick who hates her name...so never call her Lavanda, always refer to her as Kate. She's a 24 year old policewoman that decided to tag along with Tom to see some exciting crime happening. She knows Patrick as well, they often meet at the library, but he never seems to remember her.   Her favourite beverage is water, being clean and healthy. She's more mature than any other character and has a secret crush for Patrick. Music wise, she hates jazz; she despises jazz, the only good sound for her is classical music. You'd easily find her in some shady book store near her house. 

Gilbert (?): Nobody knows Gilbert's last name, it's a mystery. He owns the best Jazz Club in London, it's a nice place with a good vibe and good costumers. His best friend is Tom Rush and usually offers the last a few drinks on the house. He's openly homosexual and sometimes gets in trouble because of it, not all people are as open to that as himself. You rarely see him out of his club as it takes most of his time, he's a barman there too, working full time. He's a nice guy, mysterious and cool, the kind of guy you'd like to be friends with.

Those big ears

This is a work of fiction made during a creative writing exercise, last year. By the way, both character are male.
Sitting by the riverside of Oath, I saw the most beautiful of creatures.
His hair was of a silvery texture, dirty with leaves, short, unruly and untamed; it framed a face I couldn’t see, skin so white his hands going in, and out of the water, looked like reflections of the moon that couldn’t come in the midday sun. He walked barefoot, feet dirty with mud and scars that could tell a thousand stories. However, the most amazing of features were his long, white, hairy ears that reminded me those of a rabbit. They lay, in a bundle by his side, atop of leaves and whatever lay by the water’s edge.
Leaning by the tree I gave a careful step towards the creature’s direction, more and more steps, until the leaves made a noise and I stayed very still, waiting for what was to come. He washed his face again, in a swift, smooth gesture; then he turned to me, and it was like time stood still. He had bright red eyes, big and striking, looking at me, questioning me, but I remained frozen gazing upon such curiosity. He got up, such a smooth, delicate action that no human could perform; raised his hands and brushed my cheek with his wet, cold hands. I could feel the water running down my face, touching my neck as he traced those paths with his fingers, shocks of pleasure and adrenaline ran through my veins, such mutual curiosity towards each other, I wanted to know more about this, this person.
A few minutes passed, just like that, my legs growing numb and my hands travelling towards those ears of his, until he stopped, and in his eyes I saw fear. I caressed one of his long, white ears, stroking the fur, removing the leaves that obscured the beauty it conveyed, and then suddenly the fear was gone, for he now wore a bright smile and in those tender eyes I saw longing.