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jesus christ egbert no what is wrong with you what? it would be awesome and super thoughtful. you have no taste in romance. implying your taste is a flavor thrown under the sneeze guard labelled socially acceptable implying your taste isnt a discontinued variety publically released to replace decent taste so the street corner dealers of red roses and boxed chocolates can wrap up their old ways in shiny new trenchcoats and rerelease them to boost popularity to an all time high the nasdaq index of egberts taste in romance dropped several percentages today but sales of cheesy music records have tripled poetry for dummies becomes a new york times best seller and egbert romance becomes the new new coke whatever. theres nothing wrong with my taste in romance The inside of the tattoo parlour was nothing like John’s movies had lead him to believe. John walked in with Dave expecting a seedy atmosphere--dingy lighting, a fog of cigarette smoke, hardcore, leather-clad ruffians with an arsenal of naughty jokes and needles of questionable sterility. Instead, John was greeted with a very neat, very clean premises. A small foyer with walls covered in tattoo art and pictures of happy customers. A table of outdated magazines. A hallway of modest side-rooms. Down-to-earth, laid-back employees not much older than John was himself, most of whom were your everyday college students and apartment neighbours, only decorated with steel piercings and fluorescent gauges, with hints of coloured ink peeking from the collars of their shirts, swirls of letters tucked beneath their sleeves like well-kept secrets. John was almost disappointed, but Dave said getting their first tattoos at a respectable place like this was much more ironic. egbert i thought we agreed you were getting that anime ghost thing as your best friend and the only rational sentience between the two of us i am refusing to let you get this done this is the sound of me putting my foot down repeatedly Digging his elbow into the armrest, John rolled his sleeve up for their chosen artist, a friendly, chubby woman with bright green eyes, frizzy red hair, and an apparent penchant for tribal tattoos. He cast a look back at Dave. An I-caught-that-insult-you-just-tried-sneaking-past-me look. An oh-hey-let’s-not-forget-who-ironically-pretended-he-was-too-whimpy-to-go-first look. listen, this is my arm she is sticking this needle into, and this is my money that is going to be paying for it. and if i wanted to get a picture of nic cage making out with bill cosby under a rainbow of hummingbirds and pudding, that would be my business. but youre not no, i’m not. youre getting your boyfriends name on your bicep right. in troll letters yes. why dont you get another cliche permanently etched into your skin while youre at it “strength and honor” in japanese that actually means “i am a massive tool” to anyone who knows basic kanji the word “dad” on a ribbon with an elaborate background of hearts and roses that would put ed hardy to shame look at the bright side maybe you can make a living selling his autograph from your royalty checks ill even let you borrow my time powers so you can pawn them off in a year where hes still relevant John rolled his eyes. you don’t hear me trying to talk you out of what you’re getting, do you? you dont know what im getting well, no...but you said you have had your design planned out for a really long time! that has nothing to do with the amount of lame you are about to saddle yourself with for the remainder of your life and i say the remainder of your life because im not fiddling with time shit when you end up regretting this because im warning you about this tattoo bro im telling you dog just get your kawaii desu slime ghost like youve been telling me you wanted since we were twelve The lady finished sterilizing the spot on John’s arm with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol. She turned on the needle device, which John swore was much bigger than it was ten minutes ago; it trembled in her hand with a low buzzing noise before she offered the dark-haired young man a small smile and asked if he was ready. Swallowing hard, John nodded. The needle got within a millimeter of John’s skin before Dave held his hand out. john stop oh my god, what is it now. okay look i didnt want to have to resort to this but you guys have sex dont you John looked horrified. Blushing wildly, but horrified. WHAT?? have sex fill the bucket do the do skip the four legged frolic dance the horizontal tango vulcanize the meat rocket (The artist let out a very loud laugh at the last point, repeating it under her breath while wiping the corner of her eye.) dave, what the FUCK, don’t call it that! that’s just. gross. so gross. im not sorry what does that even have to DO with anything? would you want to be forced to see your name printed on your significant other while you made passionate committed monogamous mutually respectful love with their tender body like they were your personal property just a question Eyes widened, John gaped for words that weren’t there. Dave already had a slime ghost reference picture pulled up on his iPhone.
dude.
you are such a hypocrite. you were just telling me four hours ago this kind of thing was lame.
its only lame if youre doing it unironically
which i saved you from
youre welcome
dave, you have a tattoo of terezi in shitty comic form right above your crotch.
you know why i got it there dont you
yes. yes i do.
its because she likes licking the color red
i said i knew.
its because i want her tongue down my--
DUDE.
my taste in romance is flawless