Chapter Text
“You're on grist duty tonight,” Rose said smoothly, barely even looking up from the book she was reading as John walked by.
“Already?” he groaned, wrinkling his nose. Rose's lips twitched with amusement. “Can't we just make it Dave's job, permanently? He's the only one who's any good at it.”
“Suck it up and deal with it,” Karkat growled. “We all have to chip in. Unless you want to starve to death?”
“Noooo,” John assured him, hands held up defensively. “But what's the point? All of us combined still can't make as much as he does.”
“Where's your community spirit?” Jade chirped. “We're all in this together! Besides, we'll get better in time, you just have to keep practicing!”
John sighed. “But it was so much more fun when we could make awesome things...” he trailed off helplessly. A round of sympathetic nods circled through the computer room. The human kids and surviving trolls had been living in the labs of the Veil for a long time now, maybe even years, and raw supplies had eventually run short. Though objects could always be deconstructed for their grist again, food was a one-way trip, and it had slowly drained their coffers. There were no enemies to fight, here in the void of space. That left only two ways to get more grist if they wanted to avoid going hungry: recycle some of the awesome, but non-essential, items they had thoughtlessly alchemized when they first came to the labs, or find other ways to make more.
Dragging his feet, John trudged down the cold metal corridors to the Alchemy room. The lab had only been equipped with a primitive alchemiter, but it hadn't taken the kids much effort to upgrade it until it was back up to par, and then make further improvements on top of that. Now all a person had to do was enter their cards or codes at the single control panel, or draw directly on the built-in screen. A life-sized preview hologram would then be projected, while the screen displayed cost, existing grist stock, size options, and images of other possible permutations.
Most important of all, though, was the grist-to-grist converter. It had become their lifeline. The only way to gain more resources now was to think up items so stupid, so god-damn awful, that their creation actually cost negative grist. They were usually grist types like Artifact, with ludicrously poor conversion ratios, but it was something.
So now, everyone took a turn at the machine each night, trying to create better brain numbingly moronic items, before they could all be buried under the towering stacks of Dave's SBaHJ oddities. After all, they couldn't be recycled or it would defeat the purpose, and jettisoning them into space would be a dead giveaway of their location.
John plopped down in the chair that sat in front of the control panel, spinning around in it a few times before he got down to business. He had always loved the joy of creation that came with achemizing things, but Grist-Duty sucked all the fun out of it. Biting his lip with his over-sized front teeth, the Heir of Breath cracked his knuckles and began.
“Let's see, where did I leave off last time? Oh yeah...”
Combining a fake mustache with Rose's Bath and Beauty Wash had created a bottle of something called FULL-BODY ROGAINE. Not surprisingly, none of the girls wanted to touch the stuff, but its creation had rewarded their banks with 30 Pumice grist. Unimpressive, perhaps, but Pumice converted at a better rate then Dave's dumb ol' Artifacts. Perhaps he was on to something!
Bringing the bottle up in the computer's memory, John pondered what he could combine it with. He looked around for inspiration, but nothing came to mind. “Well, when in doubt, make new duds?”
FULL-BODY ROGAINE && God-Tier hood = HEIR OF HAIR
John stared at the rotating hologram of the longest wig he'd ever seen. Amusing, but no. Besides, like most of his attempts, it still had a positive price tag. Well, how about the other way around? He pressed the swap button to switch the way the two codes were combined.
FULL-BODY ROGAINE || God-Tier hood = Venus Razor
That... sorta made sense?
FULL-BODY ROGAINE || Smuppet = Long Haired Smuppet
Okay, that one was pretty obvious. Unfortunately, it still wasn't stupid enough.
FULL-BODY ROGAINE && Smuppet = PLUSH CATSUIT
John paused, staring for slightly longer than he needed to. He wondered if he could ever convince Rose to wear that. Inspired, he began searching through the computer's history for more items. It covered everything any of them had ever made or used, so there were plenty to choose from.
PLUSH CATSUIT && SQUIDDLE Shirt || MIDNIGHT CREW poster = SQUIDDLEWOMAN SUIT
John squirmed in his seat, eyes wide and mouth agape. Oh god I HAVE to get her to wear that! Please please please! Only the cost of the thing was preventing him from alchemizing it right this very second. That and the fact that Rose would take one look at it, arch an eyebrow at him, and make a little tsk tsk noise before walking away. But a guy could dream!
Maybe... maybe he could just kinda... alchemize a picture of Rose wearing it. For reference. Yeah. John's forehead wrinkled in concentration, trying to figure out what he could use to make such a thing. He picked up the stylus and began to draw on the control panel screen. Short hair held back by a headband; pursed, painted lips; an elegant body that was growing curvier by the day; these were the features that made up the last female of the human race (aside from his ecto-sister, of course, whom he tried very hard not to look at. And didn't always succeed.) He lifted the stylus pen and waited for the computer to process his drawing.
The most hideous caricature in the world stared back at him.
John hastily cleared the screen and shuddered. Okay, so drawing wasn't his forte. Didn't Dave take a group photo of the four of them not too long ago? For ironically sentimental purposes, of course. What did he end up doing with that? John ran through the achemiter's history again, on the off chance that Dave had used the photo in there somewhere. His eyes caught on a curiously labeled entry, so he pulled it up. Success! Let's see what this makes!
SQUIDDLEWOMAN SUIT && POSE AS A TEAM PORTRAIT = FETISH VILLIAN SQUAD poster
John snorted with laughter. Oh god, that was too funny! All four of them were wearing a variation of the outfit, even he and Dave, despite the fact that it was obviously meant for women. He struggled to control his mirth and focus on the image of Rose. Oh, wow. Oh, wow. Surely it wouldn't hurt to alchemize just this one thing? Maybe he could cut the others out (damn, Jade looked pretty good too—NO! Bad thoughts!) and just keep the part with Rose in it?
No, better not. Not unless he could produce enough grist tonight that the cost of the poster wouldn't be missed.
With a sigh of longing, John set the idea aside and got back to work. What could he add to make this picture horrible?
FETISH VILLIAN SQUAD poster && Betty Crocker Cake Mix = Licorice Flavored Body Icing
John's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. What.
FETISH VILLIAN SQUAD poster || Betty Crocker Cake Mix = SUGAR AND SPICE MAKES EVERYTHING NICE poster
Okay, now everyone's fetish gear somewhat resembled their outfits from the original photo, but in sickeningly pastel colors like a bunch of cupcakes. They even had bits of candy stuck in their hair. The sight churned John's stomach, but he had a feeling he was on the right track. After all, this item cost 10 Pyrite, which wasn't a type of grist that came up often. What else could he add? Perhaps something he hadn't used in a while?
SUGAR AND SPICE MAKES EVERYTHING NICE poster || Blue Ectoplasm = NANNAQUIN CHEESECAKE poster
OHGODNO! John flailed, frantically covering his eyes and pounding on the swap button. Still shuddering, he cautiously peeked out between his fingers to make sure it was gone.
SUGAR AND SPICE MAKES EVERYTHING NICE poster && Blue Ectoplasm = Trick Haunted Painting
John puzzled over that for a moment. Was it referring to the way that eyes in paintings seemed to follow you around the room? But that was nothing special, no need for it to cost... 0 grist.
Zero grist?! John sat up straighter in his chair. I'm close! So close! Just a little more and I'll be in the negatives!
Trick Haunted Painting && MAGNETIC WODKA = KILLER HANGOVER
“Why is that back in the positives, who the hell would want that?” he muttered.
Trick Haunted Painting && Mini Air Conditioner = SNOWCONES FROM HELL
Still positive.
Trick Haunted Painting && PAINTING OF A HORSE ATTACKING A FOOTBALL PLAYER = THE PAINTING THAT MUST NOT BE NAMED
How can that cost so much?!?! In desperation, John began grabbing more than one item at a time to throw into the mix.
Trick Haunted Painting && WOLF HEAD TROPHY || Rose's Journals = HOMOEROTIC WEREWOLF FANART
No.
Trick Haunted Painting && Gamebro || Potted Plant = UNDEAD PIRANHA PLANT
Back to zero grist again. Yay.
Trick Haunted Painting && Transparent Magic 8 Ball || Bathroom Mirror = TRICKSTER'S LOOKING GLASS
John paused. Blinked. Removed his glasses for a moment so he could rub his eyes. Stared some more in disbelief. But the screen definitely said what he thought it said.
-500 Pyrite, -500 Blood.
With trembling hands, he decided to double-check the conversion rates on those two before he got his hopes up. Sure enough, Pyrite wasn't that much better than Artifact. What about Blood, though? Surely it couldn't be that great, he'd only seen it used once, for Jade's Dead Shuffle dress. Not daring to hope, John checked the numbers.
Holy FUCK. Blood was almost as valuable as Diamond grist!
“I... I did it!” he whispered in disbelief. In a single item, he was going to earn more grist than Dave's SBaHJ items could produce even if he filled up every single room of the entire lab with them. No one would ever have to be on grist-duty again; the long hunt for an item that paid off was finally over!
“WHOOOOO!” John shouted, leaping out of his chair and prancing around the room with glee. He summoned up the Windy Thing for a victory flight, scattering piles of alchemized junk in his wake. Heart racing in his chest, he came to a landing in front of the control panel, lifted a finger, and savored the moment.
He pressed the ALCHEMIZE button.
* * *
“I wonder what's so bad about it?” Jade questioned around a mouthful of barbecue chicken drumstick. She stood in front of the freestanding, full-length mirror as she ate, studying its ornate frame with intense concentration.
The Trickster's Looking Glass had been relocated to the main room of the labs, the one that served as computer room, dining hall, and social center for its residents. When the humans moved in, John had insisted on adding a long table so they could all eat together. Though the others found it strange, it at least kept crumbs off their keyboards, so no one objected. Currently everyone was enjoying a feast, having alchemized all their favorite foods now that they no longer had to ration their grist. The mirror had been placed in the corner of the room for all to admire and examine. John was positively glowing with pride. Dave was extremely quiet and moody.
“What's it made of?” Jade inquired, circling around it again.
“Oh, uh, this and that,” John said nervously after he swallowed his bite of pizza. “There's a picture of us in there somewhere, and some cake mix, and a magic 8 ball, and Nanna's slime...”
“You put something by Betty Crocker in there?” Rose said with an arched brow. “I thought you were convinced she was the devil herself?”
“Well, I had to make it bad, right?” he explained, squirming slightly. “Otherwise it wouldn't pay!”
“I guess that explains why the frame looks like bronze icing and sprinkles!” Jade exclaimed, pleased to have figured it out.
“I must admit to feeling a bit curious about these “icing” and “sprinkle” foods,” Kanaya said hesitantly.
“Perhaps we can make some cupcakes for dessert, so our troll friends can try them,” Rose suggested with a fond smile in her direction.
“Only if they're not from Betty Crocker,” John interjected with a sharp frown. Rose just smiled and shook her head with a small laugh.
“What's wrong, cool kid?” Terezi suddenly asked, flashing her snaggle-toothed smile in Dave's direction. “You've barely touched your steak. Maybe you'd rather have it rare?”
John turned to look at his best bro, who refused to look in his direction. “I guess I'm just not hungry.”
“Heh heh heh... I think someone's feeling a little inferior,” she chuckled. “Johnny-boy pulled ahead once again, huh?”
“Wha—really?” the boy in question asked in surprise. “You were jealous of me? The king of cool himself? Gosh!”
“Dave's always jealous of you,” Terezi happily informed him.
“Shut up, Terezi,” the blond growled, slamming his fists on the table and rising sharply to his feet. Upon noticing that everyone was staring at him, he hunched his shoulders defensively and stalked over to the transportalizer pad.
“Oh! Uh.” John quickly dropped the rest of his pizza slice on his plate and stumbled to his feet. “W-wait up, Dave!” His friend disappeared with a flash of light, but John followed only a few moments after.
A few moments was all it took, though. By the time John materialized in the Transportalization Room, Dave had already escaped through another pad. Determined not to lose him, he ran over to the pad with the logo of a scratched record on it: the one the trolls had created for Dave to send him to the corridors he chose as his own.
Another flash of light, another location in the labs. To John's surprise, though, Dave was nowhere to be seen in the long stretch of metal hallways. He must have chosen a different destination.
The Hero of Breath stood there for a moment, pondering. While he could go check out every transportalizer pad one by one, it was likely that Dave was already out of the corridors by now, meaning he'd have to check every room, too. He'd never find him that way!
Good thing he had powers, then. Closing his eyes, John summoned up the breeze and let it flow away from him, filtering through vents and halls and doors, an unstoppable force that could cover the length and depth of the entire laboratory in minutes, despite its size. Find Dave, he ordered the wind.
Barely half a minute later, the air gusted playfully through his hair again. With a smile, John followed it trustingly to the pad he had just come out of, back into the transportalization room, and then to another pad. He came out in the stretch of rooms that they'd been using to store Dave's SBaHJ alchemizations.
The young man in question was standing there with his sword out, slicing the abominations to bits. He looked up, face unreadable behind his dark shades, and sighed.
“That didn't take you long.”
“Of course not! You and me, Dave, we're connected at the soul! Mere distance can't keep these bros apart!”
“If you say so.” He put his sword away in his strife specibus and flopped down in a pile of conksuck paper shreds. He crossed his arms and made himself comfortable, blatantly ignoring his companion.
“Um.” Silence stretched between them as John finally picked up the impression that his presence wasn't welcome. “Hey, is that like a troll pile? Can I join you? We can have a feelings jam!”
“Hell no, I'm not going to cheat on Terezi like that.”
“Oh. When... you two are moirails now?”
“Yeah, man, for a while. Where have you been?”
Yet more silence weighed down the atmosphere in room. John stared at his feet for a while, until his eyes began to sting. It occurred to him that he and Dave hadn't hung out very much lately. He struggled to clear his throat so he could speak without sounding like he was on the verge of tears.
“Does that mean we're not best friends any more?”
Dave finally looked up in surprise. John wished he had a pair of shades, too, because he was doing a very poor job of not looking pathetic in front of someone he admired. It was all those stupid teenage hormones' fault! That was the only reason his totally manly supply of mangrit was failing him.
“What are you even talking about, Egbert? Why wouldn't we be?”
“But aren't moirails, like, the BFF quadrant?” he asked, his voiced high and strained.
“No!” Dave exclaimed, rising back to his feet with one hand. “No way, it's more like the 'BAP' quadrant.”
“What's that stand for?”
“Behavior Accountability Partner. Trolls are fucking nuts, you know that. They gotta pair up just to keep from going batshit crazy. That's why moirails are always snooping in each other's business and want to talk about feelings and crap.” Dave came to a stop in front of him, and John kept his head lowered in embarrassment. He couldn't believe he was actually crying shedding manly tears distraught over this.
Strider lifted a hand toward him. For a second, John thought he was going to touch his face, but at the last moment it steered away and gripped his shoulder instead.
“Come on, Egbert. Our broship transcends all the quadrants. All of them. Generations from now, human and troll-kind alike will still be composing ironically shitty raps in our honor. We'll be the stuff of legends, man.”
John sniffled. “Then what was all that?”
“Oh.” He shifted uncomfortably, pulling his hand away. “Me being childish, I guess.”
“But why?” He finally looked up, quickly brushing his cheeks with his sleeve.
“Do you really have to ask, Egbert? Don't tell me you weren't sulking before about me being better at Grist-Duty.”
“No! Well... maybe. But I still talked to you!”
“Of course you did. You're our Friendleader, after all, as you constantly remind us. But what am I?”
John cocked his head, puzzled. “What do you mean? You're Dave. You're the Cool Kid.”
“What good is that?” he asked bitterly.
The black haired boy gaped. “What g--it's more than good, it's awesome! You've got all the slick moves and the clever lines and the smooth beats and the sick fires! You've been wielding a sword since you were old enough to walk! What do I have, a hammer; oooh, it takes real talent to swing one of those around. And you're so fast, on your feet and with your words—you out-troll the trolls on a regular basis! And-and-and, competing with you is the only reason I'm half as good as I am now! I try so hard because you're right there, beside me! I'd be nothing if it weren't for you, Dave!”
A blond eyebrow twitched at the words beside me. “You really think we're equal?” he asked, rubbing his arm. If it were anyone else, John would have thought it was a nervous gesture.
“Oh... well, maybe not equal, exactly... but I swear I'll catch up soon, just wait a little longer—oof!”
For some reason, John suddenly found himself in the middle of a very encompassing bro-hug. His hands fluttered in confused surprise before he finally settled them on his friend's back.
“I suppose,” Dave mumbled into his shoulder, “being the Lancer to your Hero isn't the worst fate in the world.”
“I have no idea what that means,” John replied, “but if it means we're good, then I completely agree.”
“Yeah, we're good.”
“Ohthankgod,” he breathed, all the tension going out of his shoulders. Dave chuckled and squeezed him tighter. They stood that way for a while, basking in the relief of a crisis averted. Until John got restless, anyway.
“Dude, are you done?”
“Five more minutes.”
John laughed. “C'mon, man, no homo.” Dave gave an exaggerated sigh and finally released him, straightening his shades.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's go eat, I'm starving.”
“What did you expect?” John laughed as they walked back to the transportalizer pad.
* * *
When they reappeared back into the computer room, all heads turned to look at them. Or rather, they all turned to look at John. He froze, staring nervously from face to face. “W-what?”
“John,” Rose began with exaggerated care, the slightest hint of amusement mixed with you're in deep shit now, boy evident in her voice. “What did you say that mirror was made up of, again?”
“Um.” His face went pale, with two rosy spots of embarrassment flushing his cheeks. “Just, you know, stuff. W-why are you asking?”
Rather than answer, Rose merely turned and walked over to the corner, stepping in front of the ornate mirror. Her reflection stared calmly back at her.
“Wh--”
“Give it a moment, it seems to happen faster each time.”
He obediently shut up, dragging his feet over to the corner of the room instead. Dave followed nonchalantly, stepping up behind his sister to watch over her shoulder. Jade was perched on the long desk that ringed the room, to the side of the mirror's heavy stand.
It didn't take long, just as she promised. After a few moments of nervous waiting, John blinked in surprise as Rose's image was obscured by a thick fog, even though there was none to reflect. When it cleared, something had changed.
It was still Rose's reflection. It followed her movements just the way it should. But it looked like the Rose from the Sugar and Spice poster. Instead of a full-length dress, she wore a mini-skirt with thigh-high stockings. In place of a Squiddle decal, she had a squiddle-shaped cut-out over her cleavage. She also appeared to be in the throes of some kind of bizarre, completely opposite form of Grimdark mode. More like... Giddypastel mode. Her eyes stared almost vacuously forward, an empty smile across her face.
“Eep!” John squeaked in spite of himself. He clapped his hands over his mouth, but it was too late. Now even Dave was looking at him with raised eyebrows.
“Is that an admission of guilt, John?” Jade asked, grinning ear to ear.
“Ah, nononono! I know nothing! It's just some freak combination of stuff, really!”
“I thomehow doubt that,” Sollux spoke up, lips twitching with mischief. “I took the liberty of hacking into your achemization hithtory. It'th laughably eathy to follow your train of thought through the recordth.”
John shot him the dirtiest glare he could muster, which was completely ineffective since Sollux was blind (and 'still had trouble with the sight-by-smell thing' whenever it was convenient.) Jade snorted with laughter while Rose shook her head with exasperation.
“Not that I'm not flattered, John, but I'm pretty sure we all agreed to hold off repopulating the troll and human races until our situation was a little more stable.”
“This has nothing to do with that!”
“A truer sentence has never been spoken!” Terezi cackled. John turned a vivid shade of red.
“Ah, don't be so hard on him, Lalonde,” Dave said, clapping a hand over her shoulder. “It's tough being a teenage boy with no prospects.” He leaned closer and and whispered softly into her ear. “We all know you're not really interested in him.”
Rose went absolutely stiff. “What are you implying, Strider?”
He snorted, disturbing the short wisps of hair that trailed against her neck. “A certain lady troll, of course.”
“Ah.” She relaxed. “Yes. I guess our constant stream of coy flirtations finally gave me away.” Dave chuckled and straightened up. The mirror chose that moment to fog up again, and he glanced at it in surprise. Rose smiled darkly. “Oh-ho! Looks like it's your turn, dear brother.”
“What? What do you mean, my turn? It's not just you?”
“Not at all. Actually, Jade was the one who experienced it first.” She grinned as she stepped aside, leaving Dave front and center in front of the looking glass. The fog lifted and the image solidified.
Dave's poker face twitched. “Egbert.”
“What?”
“Why am I wearing baby-pink girl-shorts?”
John froze, a look of mortified horror creeping across his face. “Oh, god! ” he whimpered, burying his head in his hands.
Jade burst out in giggles. “Oh, I have to see this!” she cried as she hopped down from the desk and ran to Dave's side. “Aaah, look at your hair, it's bright green!”
“Heart-shaped sunglasses? Really, Strider, you're taking irony to whole new levels. Also, that grin is almost creepy.”
“You sure you don't have something you want to tell me, Egbert?” Dave asked, eyebrows as high as they could go. A moment later and the mirror fogged up again to update with Jade's revamped appearance. “Huh. Lookin' good there, Harley. Nice dress. I like the coattails.”
“I guess it's interesting to see what I would look like as a blonde. But why do I look stoned?”
“Nah, nah, it's like you're being all seductive and shit. Smokey-eyed temptress with a... candy-cane stuck in your hair?”
“Why do I have a candy-cane on my head?”
“Because ice-cream would melt? I don't know.”
“So,” Rose began slowly, “if even Strider wasn't spared this treatment... what will you look like, John?”
The boy in question looked longingly at the transportalizer pad. “Don't even think about it, fuckass,” Karkat growled. “You can't run forever.” With a heavy sigh, John trudged over to the object of his damnation, where the others latched on to his arms and held him captive in front of its gleaming surface. He only had to stare apprehensively at his reflection for a few seconds before it changed.
Sputtering laughter quickly filled the room. “Oh, John, striped pink over-the-knee socks? Really?”
“At least I'm not alone in wearing short-shorts. What a relief. I feel more comfortable in our shared emasculation, now.”
“Oh look, we match! You've got a giant sucker on your head! And you're blond!”
The trolls crowded around the four humans, trying to catch glimpses between or over their heads. “Motherfuckin' miracles,” Gamzee murmured first, being the tallest. “The colors, man.”
“I believe I could construct those outfits in real life, should they be so desired,” Kanaya added with a smirk.
“Hell. No.”
“Not even for the irony, Dave?” Terezi asked with a grin.
“Nope.”
“That's not what I've heard,” Aradia said teasingly. “It seems the future may prove otherwise.”
“Please tell me you're joking. No wait, don't even bother. You're joking. I refuse to believe otherwise.”
“You're being awful quiet, KK. Thee thomething you like?”
“What! No!!”
“Oh, I get it now. Would you like a bootht?
“Fuck. You. Asshole.”
“Ith that a propothition?”
As squabbles broke out around them, John stared mournfully at the mirror he had been so proud of only moments ago. No wonder it had paid so much to be made. He was never, ever going to live this down.
His reflection grinned impishly back, uncaring of the way he really felt.
* * *
By unanimous vote, it had been decided that the mirror, while certainly amusing, was not something they wanted to keep in the computer lab. Thus it was that, once the dinner feast was over and everyone had gone their separate ways, John found himself back in the hated Alchemy room, unloading the impressively heavy item as carefully as he could from his wallet sylladex. The last thing he wanted was seven years of bad luck from cracking it. He tucked it into the corner of the room, blocked from sight of the door by the Alchemiter, in hopes that people would eventually forget about it and stop ribbing him about the damn thing.
Standing back, he pouted at his cheerful reflection. He looked absolutely ridiculous. What was with all the pink, anyway? And those shorts! He turned around, staring at his backside. Oh god, if I bent over my butt would probably fall out! He grabbed at his pants in an attempt to tug them down a little, cover himself up more, forgetting for a second that he wasn't actually wearing those shorts. His reflection mirrored the motion, but somehow made it look indecently flirtatious instead of the embarrassed action it really had been.
John scowled. He could have swore that his reflection looked amused. He stuck out his tongue, and it did the same. With a sigh, he shook his head and crossed his arms. “What am I supposed to do with you?” he asked softly. “I'm glad our grist problem is solved, but... jeez.” He ran his hand through his hair, watching the blond John do the same around his lollypop. “I guess that's what I get for thinking with my dick while in the alchemy chair. Too bad I'm stuck with you, though.”
His reflection grinned, put a finger to his lips, and winked.
While John quietly had a heart attack for a second, his other self turned and walked out of sight. John's eyes shifted to the side, almost expecting to see someone walk out from behind the mirror, but of course nothing like that happened. The mirror was simply empty, as if no one was in front of it to reflect.
“Wha-!” he started to shout, trailing off as a figure returned. It wasn't him. John's mouth went dry.
Giddypastel Rose, in all her mini-skirted glory, had just sashayed into view. She smiled coquettishly at him, leaning against the gilded frame as if it were a wall that extended into her side of the mirror, despite having just walked through that very same spot. She pursed her lips in a very un-Rose-like manner, flashing dimples he couldn't recall ever seeing before. He wondered if they were unique to this version of Rose.
“Um! Uh. H-hi,” he fumbled. Crap, he didn't know what to do now! She was so sexy, and he certainly knew what he wished she would do, but how could he possibly say it? She was standing there, moving and smiling like a real person, not a picture. How real was she? The real Rose would kill him if he treated this woman like an object. His father would have been disappointed in him if he was un-chivalrous to a lady. John would feel absolutely horrible if he made a lewd suggestion and she was offended oh god she was removing the scarf from around her waist.
Slowly. Suggestively. It slid like water as it flowed over her hips, trickling across her thighs and clinging teasingly to her legs as it rippled to the floor.
John swallowed. He made an embarrassing sort of whimpering noise, and the Rose from the trickster mirror closed her eyes in bliss, as if his reaction pleased her. She slid her hands firmly up her sides and over her chest, causing the cleavage that peeked through her dress cutout to swell in ways that made him break into a sweat. Pulling her hands away, she beckoned him closer with a curled finger, smiling mischievously. Flushed and confused, but oh so willing, John obediently took a few steps forward.
She turned around, posing in a manner that best showed off her curves, her head turned just enough to peer at him from under long, fluttering lashes. For the first time, John noticed that her pale green hair was just long enough to twist into a bun, held back by two pink needlewands. His observation was quickly forgotten, however, when she reached behind her head, found the zipper of her high-neck dress, and pulled it down a few inches. Then she rested her hands under her head and waited, watching him expectantly from the corner of her eye.
A mostly unintelligible stream of ecstatic thoughts blared through John's head. His blue god-tier pants were utterly useless at hiding the way she was affecting him. Fire roared through his veins and collected in his groin. To think he would have settled for a picture and his imagination! This was far more than he had dared to hope! He raised an arm that was shaking with nervous excitement and, hesitantly, touched the mirror's surface.
It was hard and cold, just like any mirror. For a second there, he had thought it might ripple or that his hand would pass through. His fingertips tingled, though, like a mild electric current ran through the looking glass. The lurid green energy that flickered constantly over Trickster Rose's body, like grimdark smoke, flared brighter at his touch. He shivered, but it wasn't unpleasant. John pondered over what to do next, not wanting to make the lady impatient. Figuring it couldn't hurt, he placed one finger over her zipper slider from his perspective, then trailed it downwards, tracing the line of her dress.
The zipper followed. A long narrow V of dark, reddish-purple skin was revealed, interrupted only by a band of the palest lacy pink.
At this point, John's brain completely gave up and surrendered to incoherency.
Trickster Rose slowly turned around, a hand pressing lightly above her breasts to keep the dress up, as it was already trying to slip off her shoulders. With her other hand she made a strange gesture; a finger sliding down, much like he had just done, but pointing at John. At crotch-height.
Oh. God. Okay.
He fumbled at the zipper of his pants, allowing the tent in his Green Slime Ghost boxers to jut impudently in her direction. She smiled as he flushed, then made the hand gesture again. John gulped audibly, hesitating. He had the feeling that he had somehow leaped in over his head. Could he really expose himself in front of a lady like this?
Rose released her hold on the dress. With a little tug to encourage it past her hips, it quickly dropped to the floor.
FUCK BOXERS YOU DON'T NEED THEM
Rose
is
gorgeous!
The darkness of her giddypastel skin contrasted sharply with her pale matching undergarments. The fact that she was still wearing the thigh-high stockings and opera-length gloves only added to her erotic appeal. John didn't even notice at first that he had taken his exposed manhood in hand and was rubbing it with shameless enthusiasm. Fucking hell, he was so aroused it hurt, and the friction felt so good! Trickster Rose seemed thrilled by his response, her green luminescence flickering like a roaring fire. He badly wished he could feel her under his hands, could touch and smell that flesh for himself. If only she were real! Or rather, really here!
She seemed determined to do her best, though. Eyes nearly closed with pleasure, she slipped a few fingers inside the cup of her brassier, tweaking what she found there. Her lips parted and he could see her chest heave suddenly.
John was gasping, himself. His put his other hand to work, pushing his pants down further until they dropped to his ankles, then gripped his balls. Moans were slipping unbidden from his throat, in between his labored breaths. He made sure his eyes stayed wide open, though, pinned to her form as if transfixed. Her bra straps were starting to slip, and her other hand was sliding down her stomach to slip into the little scrap of lace that served as a panty.
She wriggled both sets of fingers, and her mouth opened further with noises he couldn't, but desperately wished, to hear. The straps that were barely clinging to her shoulders slipped down a little further. As she began to tremble, they finally lost their purchase and fell to her elbows. The flimsy fabric that composed the cups struggled to keep their shape without any support, but were losing the battle to gravity breath by heaving breath.
John felt the pleasurable tension building up in his groin. The heat of a vivid red flush was burning up his entire body as he pumped with both hands, bucking his hips into them and spasming as he lost control of his reflexes. As he watched, the last bit of fabric, clinging desperately to the peak of her stiff, rosy nipple, finally lost the battle and exposed her to his gaze. Those perfect, pillowy globes jiggled and bounced as she began to shudder, one hand twisting and tugging on a tit while the other rubbed in and out from between her legs.
Suddenly she went tense and hunched over, breasts swaying as she spasmed again and again. John couldn't take it a moment longer. He erupted, spraying splatters of white all across the lower half of the mirror.
“Oh, fuck! Rose!” he panted, overwhelmed with euphoria. Aftershocks shook him as he squirted out every last drop of pleasure. His mind went blank and hazy, leaving him to wonder, minutes later, how he had ended up laying on the floor, his rapidly shrinking member still exposed for all the world to see.
Wow. Wow. Just... wow!
He continued to lay there for a while before mustering the effort to get up. He felt absolutely wiped, even moreso than usual. He managed to drag himself slowly and laboriously to his feet, finally pulling up his pants and making himself decent. He looked up at the mirror, wondering how Trickster Rose was holding up, but she wasn't there. Even his own Trickster self was gone, leaving only a perfectly ordinary reflection. It could have been any ol' icing-framed monstrosity. Its sparkling clean surface gleamed at him innocently.
Shaking his head, he walked unsteadily around the alchemiter and to the room's exit, lost in his own thoughts. He pressed the button that opened the door to the corridor.
With a start of surprise, John looked up. For a second there, he thought he'd seen... something. He wasn't even sure what, exactly, just a flash of dark red in the corner of his eye.
He looked up and down the hallway, but there was nothing there.
* * *