Chapter 1: In which Tim wakes up and thinks, then goes to class
Chapter Text
No, I don't know why you're not fair
I give you my love, but you don't care
So what is right and what is wrong?
Gimme a sign
What is love?
Oh baby, don't hurt me
Don't hurt me
No more
-Haddaway
Hi, I’m Tim. You may remember me from BrainPOP. I was the teenage boy who made science videos for children? Yeah that’s me. The whole reason I did that was because I spent too much time watching SciShow as a child and I thought of Hank Green as a father figure. I simultaneously wanted to be him and be railed by him, or maybe I just wanted to be praised by him. I’ve actually concluded that I’m robosexual (only attracted to robots), but I’m gay for Hank Green. He’s making some very sexy TikToks these days. I think being told not to eat things is my kink.
Now I’m depressed because my days of being a tiny teenage science child are over. I’m one of those insufferable people who say they have “gifted kid burnout”. I would love to tell myself to shut up because we all know that’s annoying as fuck. Oh, school came easy to you and you got special treatment because of it? Now you’ve found out you’re not actually special and you’re going to act like a little piss baby? Stop bragging about having a high school reading level in fourth grade Tim, nobody cares.
Hypothetically, for the sake of argument, let’s say I was born and raised in Arkansas and I’m now going to college in Arkansas because I turned out to be deeply average and there was no way I was ever going to make it out of the state, even though that was my dream and I made every effort to go to college anywhere that wasn’t Arkansas. At least I get to go to college I suppose. I’m very apathetic about the whole affair, I kind of want to die because like I said I’m depressed or something. Whatever though. I said I wanted to be a scientist so I guess I’m going to try to be a scientist.
I’m staring at the ceiling of my dorm room in the dark, thinking about death when I hear a quiet “ding!” from the other side of the room. Moby is finished charging. I look over as his eyes illuminate and the little lights on his chest start to glow. I can almost feel the oxytocin and whatever other happy chemicals there are flooding my brain, and I get the wonderful floating feeling I only get when I see his cold, dead robot eyes light up when he’s powering on. If only he could feel it back.
I found Moby smoldering in a crater while I was out wandering the wastelands as a child, and we have been best friends ever since. He was either built by aliens or possibly Leonardo DaVinci, but nobody really knows. His Wikipedia page is very unclear. Anyway, my parents adopted him I think. I’m not sure if they think of him as a son or as some sort of appliance, maybe a vacuum or coffee maker or something along those lines, but now he’s my roommate. I don’t think he pays tuition, but he does manage to get better grades than me in every class. I think I might be attracted to that too. Stupid robot.
I realize I’ve been gazing at Moby a bit too long when his loud vocalisation breaks me from my stupor.
“BEEEEEEP!”
Moby doesn’t speak like a normal human. He just beeps and the people around him understand. Maybe it's telepathy. Maybe it’s Maybelline. Who cares.
His first beep of the day is his usual morning greeting. “It is seven-thirty AM, January 12th 2021. It’s time to wake up. Good morning Tim!”
“Thank you Moby.” I say, rubbing my eyes as Moby extends one of his arms to the far side of the room and flicks on the light switch. This is how our mornings have begun since classes started last fall. Moby’s internal alarm clock wakes me up at seven-thirty each day, and I scramble to get ready for my classes. Moby doesn’t need to prepare the same way I do, so he typically remains plugged into his charger, occasionally using one of his whirring gadgets to ease my way by laying out my clothes or finding my shoes while I throw my books into a bag. It’s these tiny little acts of what would be identified in another human as kindness that send a pang through my chest. I’m headed for the door when Moby taps my shoulder. I turn around to face him and feel his heated metallic hands graze the sides of my face as he hooks a mask around my ears. Right, the pandemic is still a thing in this universe.
I enter the Science Building where I am majoring in Science. I sneak a look inside the physics lab while running past it, and see the girl who lives across the hall from me, Aurora. She says she wants to be a physicist but keeps failing all her physics classes. She doesn’t even like physics. I know this because I can hear her from across the hall, constantly crying on the phone about how much she hates physics. When it gets really bad, she gets Taco Bell. She gets Taco Bell often. The smell wafts over to my room and I try to complain about it to Moby, but Moby doesn’t eat and is overall very unsympathetic to the inconveniences that come with various bodily functions. Once I pissed myself while Moby was chauffeuring me across the state because he wouldn’t stop for me to pee at a gas station. Anyway, whenever I hear anyone talk about physics, I smell Taco Bell. I blame Aurora.
My first class of the day is Science. So is my second class. And third class. And all the rest of my classes. Also, I’m in French. Today, I’m late. Moby speeds up, rollerblades popping out of his feet once we clear the stairs, and leaves me in the dust.
“Moby, wait!” I shout as his shiny orange plating disappears around a corner. Sometimes when we’re late for something Moby will give me a piggyback ride so we can get there a little faster. Doesn’t look like that’s happening today though.
Sorry Tim, we have a long day of classes ahead, and carrying you saps my power, and I can’t spend all my time waiting behind for you either. I must arrive on time. You understand.
I bend over to catch my breath, clutching a stitch in my side. We were supposed to be best friends. I had believed we were best friends until late high school, before we went to college. We had made BrainPOP together, and at the time it felt like the coolest thing in the world. It’s my own fault for thinking it would last forever. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t feel the same way about me that I do about him. Even if he could feel like humans do, I don’t think I could hold it against him. It doesn’t make it hurt any less though.
Already late, I walk into the Science room and see my favorite professor, Dr. Ash. He’s about a million years old and an asshole a lot of the time, but he’s also the perfect eccentric professor that you see in about a million science fiction novels and coming of age stories, so I can’t really complain. He’s good plot material, baby. He’s holding some kind of beepy boopy chunk of metal in his hand that gives off big plot device vibes.
“Tim, I’m glad you could make it to class today. Moby told me you might be late.” Dr. Ash says.
I glance over at Moby. “Yeah Moby, thanks for letting him know.” I doubt he picks up on the sarcasm in my voice. He's already laser-focused on a new task over on the other side of the room, loading some other gadgets into a box and marking things off on a list.
Dr. Ash waves it away and starts toward the door, beckoning for me to follow. “Moby, join us when you’re done. Be quick about it.”
I follow Dr. Ash out and down the hallway to another door. He takes a key from his pocket and slides it into the lock. Suddenly, he stops and makes eye contact with me.
“Now, what I’m about to show you cannot leave this room.”
I nod. He pushes the door open.
The room is empty except for an object about the size of a picnic table obscured by a tarp, and from beneath the tarp, there is a green light. Not like in Gatsby though, more like when you shine a flashlight through a Mountain Dew bottle. Or as I like to call it, Gamer Juice. That’s right, I’m a gamer
Chapter 2: In which a lesbian ruins everything
Summary:
weohvwevnwfprvnpeepeepeepeepee
Chapter Text
You name one thing about us two, anyone could love
We roll out the red carpet
When rotten luck comes down the road
Five, four, three, two, one
Watch for the flash
-The Mountain Goats
One thing that you have to understand about me is that I’m really just a normie. I’m covered in grease all the time because I don’t shower and I’m also a homosexual. Wait, I think I said I was robosexual earlier. Who’s to say honestly. The point is that I’m terrible and I don’t deserve to have good things happen to me. Even though I really just want to have a job and a wife. Or a sex robot named Moby.
Anyway, Dr. Ash whips this tarp off this big glowing object thing. Please don’t let this be a distraction from my whole sad love affair that isn’t even a love affair.
“Ooh hoo hoo Timmy my boy! Lookie look! Science is so sciency today let’s go on some science!” He chortles, dancing on the balls of his feet like an old old leprechaun who absolutely should not be dancing around like he wasn’t born in the sixteenth century.”
“All I want is to be loved, fuck off Dr. Ash. I don’t actually want to be a scientist I want to be a puppeteer and have gay sex.”
“That’s not going to happen, you incel. Help me with my science. If you don’t I will probably die. That’s how old I am.”
I sigh and briefly consider leaving. Maybe it’s time for him to die. Nah, sometimes he gives me weird advice and tells me not to kill myself. I look at the glowing object. It's shaped like two halves of a metal donut suspended in midair, almost touching but not quite. A few wires stick out from where it looks like they should be connected. As Moby wheels through the door behind us, I see one of them spark. Definitely a fire hazard.
Dr. Ash dances on the balls of his feet over to the sparking chunk of metal in the center of the room. He grabs a big rubber mallet like the kind they have in cartoons out of his belt that he apparently has, kind of like Batman. That's a new addition to his wardrobe. Anyway, he starts whacking the two halves of the donut together with reckless abandon.
“HAHAHAHAHA I love to science!!! Don’t do what I’m doing right now kids! I have tenure!! HAH HAH!!”
What a man.
A five foot nothing lesbian named Lilac dashes past the open door, sliding a skateboard through the open door. Dr. Ash trips on it and immediately dies.
I let out a Darth-Vader-at-the-end-of-Revenge-of-the-Sith-esque “NOOOOOOOoOOOOOoOO” and fall to my knees the way he does in the movie. I’m incapable of having any perception of my own life without attaching it to some other narrative because I have a hard time connecting to my own emotions without some sort of parasocial buffer, possibly because of the patriarchy or maybe just because I’m a bad person with a main character complex. I have no real way of knowing if bad people even really exist or if there’s any deep down part of me that is “me,” or if I’m just a conglomeration of societal ills and the bad sci-fi movies from the early 2000’s that have made me into the sweaty scrawny gamer boy that I am, but in this moment it could be all the same. I am no longer thinking of the sparkling donut or how very horny I am, and I fall to my knees.
“Tim you dumb fuck, you left the door open.” Moby beeps at me
Oh shit. I did.
A second wave of grief washes over me. This is all my fault. Dear lord, why must I have emotions. Maybe we should all take a note from our stoic and serious conservative dads and throw them all out. No more emotions for anyone. I put my head between my knees and slowly slide my disgusting torso downward. There is enough grease on my nose and face that it leaves a trail across the ground and allows me to slide my disgusting body across the floor with ease like a greasy snail. There will be enough oil on the floor to cook bacon after I’m finished.
I begin to cry like Caillou. You know, from “Caillou?” He's a bald and terrible two or three or six year old child? Maybe he has cancer? I don’t know. Where is my milf of a mommy to cradle my bald melon head when I need her? We can all agree that Caillou’s mom was a hottie, right? Wait I’m gay, never mind. Maybe my internal monologue is narrated by a lesbian or something. Anyway I cry for a long ass time, not thinking about Caillou’s hot mom, just consumed with grief. I don’t even notice the rising rumbling noise coming from Dr. Ash’s experiment until it explodes with a bang (I a very stupid).
Chapter 3: In which another robot/boy duo enters the picture
Summary:
Tim and Moby meet up with Hiro Hamada and Baymax
Chapter Text
I'm still comparing your past to my future
It might be your wound, but they're my sutures
Oh, I am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass, glass, glass
Oh, I try to picture me without you, but I can't
-Fall Out Boy
“Hello? Hello? Earth to skinny bitch? Fuck, I think we killed him.!”
There is a red glow from the other side of my eyelids and a long steady BEEEEEEEP as I squinch my eyes more firmly shut and writhe away from its source.
“Oh thank God. The skinny bitch lives. Scan him, let’s see the damage.”
I open my eyes and am immediately confused by the set of figures leaning over me. One is a very small man with some kind of silly Power Rangers-esque purple armor and what appears to be an inflatable robotic Pillsbury Doughboy, minus the chef’s hat.
“It appears the patient was briefly unconscious from being too dramatic. He’ll be fine. Hey, what’s this pile of bronze-looking robot junk piled in the middle of the room?”
Wait. Bronze-looking pile of robot junk? I’m reminded of the love of my life, whom I had definitely referred to as bronze-looking robot junk many times before, stupid idiot whore. Was Moby okay? My joints ache as I climb to my feet and push past the Pillsbury Doughboy to see where Moby had been standing moments before (or possibly longer, I’m not perfect and very stupid and was recently unconsiousd, don’t trust me) and discover a literal pile of Moby parts.
This is beyond depressing. I assume Moby is dead and gone forever even though it is up for debate whether he was even alive to begin with, and also it’s terrible because he will absolutely never love me ever. Also Dr. Ash is still dead and I’m still sad about that. Actually no I’m not, he lived a good long life and all and that was a long time ago at this point. Like a few minutes? Grieving over. But now Moby is dead. Terrible news, I was in love with him I’m pretty sure.
I dash over to the pile of rubble and start crying over it like it’s my newborn child and something is terribly wrong so I better savor these last few moments with my new daughter or something. Why didn’t I tell Moby how I felt before it was too late? In my eighteen years of life I’m just now realizing that it’s better to let yourself feel everything to its fullest extent, no matter the outcome, and be grateful you get to be here at all. We’re so lucky. If you feel like you’re going through something, maybe don’t wait until it’s over and you’ve gone through it and let yourself feel alive while going through it. Being present. Living in the moment. Life goes by so fast, live like this is your last shot at loving. That’s my current philosophy. We don’t choose who we are or what we’re born with, or even the people we see everyday. We’re just doing the best with what we’ve got, I just want to make sure I really am making the best of it.
“Wait dude, was that a friend of yours?”
The little man gestures to the Moby parts, ignoring the dead body of the human man in the corner. Good to know we’re on the same page with regard to who should be mourned here. I let out an unintelligible wail because I never learned how to use my words.
“Hiro, the patient is in great emotional distress due to the loss of a loved one, this pile of robotic parts as it seems.” says the Inflatable Doughboy in his robotic voice.
“Yeah thanks, I gathered that.” Hiro says to the Inflatable Doughboy. He comes up behind me and crouches down, placing a hand on my hunched shoulders as I cover my face in my hands. “Who was this? What happened?”
“My best friend, Moby. I was in love with him.”
“Did you ever tell him that?” asked Hiro.
I paused a second, just giving my brain a second to buffer. Was this guy’s noggin filled with soup or some other viscous liquid that absolutely does not lend itself to cognition?
“No, I didn’t. He was literally a machine, he didn't have emotions. What would be the point?”
“I don’t know man, where I come from some robots have complex enough emotional circuits that it could totally be debated that they have a consciousness and feelings the way we do. Like Baymax.”
I look up at the inflatable doughboy, apparently named Baymax, and he blinks his silly robot eyes at me. I’m dubious about what Hiro says, but it doesn’t actually matter to me if they contain any feeling beyond what Moby could have felt. Wherever Hiro comes from, whatever land of emotional pillow robots that has spat him and Baymax into my reality, seems so foggy from my own grief that I can’t actually form a coherent thought about what sequence of events might have brought them here. I turn back to Moby’s parts and close my eyes, holding his disembodied hand in mine. Hiro isn’t finished.
“You know, back home I’m considered something of a prodigy when it comes to robotics. This robot actually doesn’t seem to be too badly broken. If you want to stop sobbing and spilling your tears all over his circuitry, I can take a look and see what I can do.”
I back off and hand Moby’s arm off to Hiro. He pulls on some thick gloves from out of his pocket and begins helping himself to Dr. Ash’s collection of tools. Not wanting to linger over Hiro’s shoulder as he picks apart the charred remains of my best friend, I turn to the Doughboy.
“So what do you do?”
“I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.” Baymax says in a cool, pleasing voice. Like Siri. It’s comforting, Siri was one of my closest friends in my youth.
“Oh, so y’all just drop into other people’s realities pretty often, huh? And you bring your robot doctor along when you hurt people? Is this routine for you?”
“You appear to be distressed. Often when we lose a loved one, it is beneficial to spend time with your friends and family, let them know that you require extra support during this difficult time. Do you have friends or family you would like me to contact?”
I look around the room at the still-smoldering rubble of Dr. Ash’s experimentation. Clearly whatever is going on here is highly sketch. Might want to hold off on getting anyone else involved just yet.
“I think I’m good.”
“Another thing that may help you is physical contact, such as hugging. Hugging can help you release hormones such as oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin. Once the hormones are released we experience feelings of happiness, relaxation, improved mood, and lower levels of depression. Would you like a hug?”
Hesitating, I think about how long it’s been since I’d had a proper hug. Certainly not since before college started. I’m so skinny and awkward and bony and gross and long that I am too uncomfortable to hug so it doesn’t happen super often. Even though Baymax is a strange and foreign marshmallow man at least partially responsible for Moby’s destruction, I am so touch starved that I would be willing to hug anyone.
“Sure.”
Baymax hugs me. It’s nice. Too nice. I have a boner now.
“Your penis appears to be in a rigid and enlarged state. Diagnosis: you have an erection. This is typical of sexual excitement and is normal for males of your age. Do not be alarmed.”
Hiro makes no attempt to stifle his laughter from over on his bench.
“Sorry my guy, Baymax has no sense of discretion when it comes to matters of any sort of sexual nature. You should have been there a few years ago when we first met. My brother had just tragically died in a fire and suddenly I’m dealing with a giant balloon robot that won’t stop talking about my pubes. You get used to it.”
Suddenly I’m annoyed. This man just drops into my reality over the body of my dead teacher, nearly decimating Moby, and now has the audacity to laugh at my dick. Actually, whatever. It’s been a long day. If we can’t have empathy for a guy who has also clearly had a long day and now has to deal with me being an emotional wreck turned on by his robot doctor, then we have nothing. I will simply ignore my penis and play sudoku on my phone. I actually know this guy Winston who is Catholic and thinks he will go to Hell if he masturbates, so he never jerks off and just plays sudoku on his phone instead. And good for him too, if Hell is real you might as well be safe. I wonder if he would be into soaking if he just didn’t finish.
Hiro stops chuckling and concentrates back on Moby. I realize I should be grateful. Whatever he’s planning on doing here, it couldn’t have included doing me such a favor.
Hiro doesn’t look like much, but he seems to know what he’s doing. Certainly more than I’d know how to do. I know I have a bit of a reputation of being a friendly neighborhood Science Boy, but I’ve really been bullshitting my way through school this entire time and I’m actually an idiot who keeps getting lucky. Absolutely no work ethic or sense of motivation here. I am disgusting. But Hiro is working like the task of fixing a robot from beyond the stars or possibly 15th century Italy is nothing.
Hiro sees me looking and shouts “See, the parts of Moby that made him Moby were stored in the chest and head cavities, which are mostly undamaged other than some melting of the casing here and here.”
I walk back up to Moby’s parts to see where Hiro is pointing. I’d been fairly freaked out by how much rubble and smoke there was, but at closer inspection I see that he’s right. Hiro has cracked open Moby’s chest cavity and the gears and circuits inside look completely intact from what I can see. Keep in mind, I am very stupid, but seeing it gives me a glimmer of hope.
“Do you think you’ll be able to fix him?”
Hiro’s eyes shift back down to the mess of wires he had been fiddling with, thinking hard.
“Well--” he starts. “Wait, what’s your name?”
“Tim.”
“Well Tim, that depends on what you mean by fix. This robot’s legs and one arm were completely blown to pieces and there's not much we’re going to be able to do about that, but with a little work I should be able to get him communicating the same way he used to. It’s a one way telepathic system, right?”
“I guess, I honestly don’t know much about how it works. But we can speak to him and when he beeps back in response everyone around just sort of understands what he means.”
“That's very impressive. Telepathic technology has only come so far where I’m from, and from what we know about your universe you haven’t gotten quite as far as we have. But this tech looks ancient. Do you have any idea where he acquired Moby?”
It takes me a second to realize the “he” Hiro means is Dr. Ash.
“No, no, no. Moby is mine. Or he’s my friend. Companion? We’re roommates, I’ve known him for most of my life and he lived with me before we came here.”
“Wait, where are we right now? Who are you?”
“I told you, I’m Tim. We’re at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville.”
Hiro looks even more confused. It isn’t a good look on him, despite the chaos of Dr. Ash’s portal exploding he’s treated the whole situation with a confident, happy-go-lucky attitude. Even being presented with a robot as complex as Moby and being expected to know what was wrong and how to fix it didn’t seem to phase him. I'd pegged Hiro as being my age or a little older, just by the way he had carried himself with such self-assurance, but at this first flicker of doubt in where he had turned up, he looks like a much younger kid.
“Arkansas?”
“Yeah, Arkansas, what about it?”
“Oh heck, that’s where the big bad from my universe is from. It can’t be…..”
Hiro begins pacing, abandoning Moby where he lay and wringing his fingers through his hair. I am concerned.
“Hey dudeeee, what's the deal.” I ask.
“Look Tim I am literally so tired can we go to your dorm so I can take a nap? My adderall is wearing off and I don’t know what’s going to happen next so I think we should put Moby in a wagon and pick jhe drama back up later”
Yeah that’s fair. I am also tired. Goodbye.
Chapter Text
A quick glance, a big chance
My heart beat like a drum
I saw you and I knew
Chances just don't come round again
Not like this
-Indigo Girls
You know when you meet people and they are exactly what you think they should be, like they’re their own stereotype? And every time you learn something new about them you just think “yeah that makes sense,” and how dependably themselves they are is what makes them so deeply beautiful? I’m doing a shit job of explaining the kind of love I feel, you’ll have to trust me on this one. Idk where I was going with this.
So the stage is set. It’s us. The boys and our robots. In my dorm. It's Harding hall at the University of Arkansas. In case you're unfamiliar, it’s a quad with four individual rooms, two bathrooms, and a living room. It’s pretty nice as far as dorms go, but the problem of my roommates is significant. Actually it might not be, I really only interact with one of them. Their name is Jedd. They’re okay I guess, they’re in a melodic hardcore emo band called Horse Boys and wear interesting pants. Also they’re a horse.
The stage is set. Wait what for?
I realize that I have absolutely no plan as we wheel Moby in broad daylight across campus back to my dorm. This is so gay.
Hey.
Hey.
Hey.
You know what would be fucked up.
If we went back to my dorm, killed my horse roommate, and grafted his horse body onto Moby’s working parts so that he was like some sort of monstrous robot centaur. Should we do that? Should that be our next move?
Notes:
THIS IS A CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE NOW IF YOU WANT THE HORSE ROBOT CENTAUR STORY GO AHEAD AND READ CHAPTER FIVE IF YOU WANT THE OTHER THING I WAS PLANNING ON WRITING SKIP TO CHAPTER SIX OR JUST READ EM BOTH I DON'T REALLY CARE
Chapter 5: The horse chapter
Summary:
Things happen with a horse
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Stupid horse, I just fell out of the Porsche
Lost the money in my bank account, oh no
Stupid horse, I just fell out of the Porsche
Lost the money in my bank account, oh no
Stupid horse, I just fell out of the Porsche
Lost the money in my bank account, oh no
Stupid horse, I just fell out of the Porsche
Lost the money in my bank account
Woo
-100 gecs
You know what I’m really in the mood for? Murder.
I’m not violent by any means. I honestly don't have the kind of disposition or resources to be a particularly violent person. I walk around on itty bitty salamis for legs. Except they’re stupid and long and skinny. Another reason I’m depressed is that my thighs are so skinny that little animals never want to lay on me. I would slice them. Ah, slicing. Like slicing up a dead body.
As we make our way through the courtyard, with Baymax wheeling Moby behind us in the very cute little paper boy wagon we found in Dr. Ash’s lab, Hiro begins to speed up.
“Dude, do you even know where you’re going?” I pant, struggling to keep up. Baymax is having no trouble. He doesn’t look like he would be able to pull much, but he must be more durable than he looks. He could probably help some hypothetical someone get away with murder. I mean, we have a wagon, and Moby is heavier than your average dead body. Just a guess, like I said, I’m not a violent person. But what if?
Hiro doesn't look back. “I’ve been here before. You said you lived in Harding Hall, right?”
“Yep.” Hiro makes the turn to my dorm.
I don’t think about the fact that Hiro apparently knows his way around the campus so well too much, despite never having seen him around before. I’ve seen enough movies to know that Hiro must be from some alternate universe or something. We have no idea what he’s done. Maybe he’s a murderer. Maybe he’s so desensitized to violence that he would have no problem, say, killing my horse roommate for his own personal gain. You gotta roll with the punches, don’t be that guy who needs every little thing explained to him.
Hiro turns back to me, grabbing a handful of his own hair and running his hand through it as he stops short at the entrance to Harding Hall.
“Hey man, I could use a drink. You seem like the kind of guy who needs every little thing explained to him, and I absolutely cannot be sober to recount this story.”
Ouch. But that’s fair.
“I don’t have any alcohol but I know my horse roommate Jedd does. They would probably give us some if we listened to a long and depressing monolog. Also they’re a horse.”
This does seem to phase Hiro.
“A horse?”
“Yeah a horse.”
Hiro gives me a shrug and a sigh, as if to say that stranger things have happened today and it might just be better to accept it. I’m glad he doesn’t question it. I also do not know why my roommate is a horse and how they got into college.
“Okay let’s go drink with the horse.”
We get up to my dorm to see Jedd in all his horsey glory, picking out a melody on the guitar with his hooves. He is a horse.
“Hey Jedd.” I say as Hiro tries to squeeze Baymax through the door. “What’s crackalackin?”
“Oh you know. Playing some tunes. Being a horse. What about you?”
“My friend and I were looking for alcohol and a titillating story. Could you perhaps be of service? We won’t murder you or anything.”
Jedd springs into action as if they had just been waiting for the opportunity to drink and talk about themself, swiftly grabbing an apple crate filled with assorted alcoholic beverages from their quarters and posing on the couch. They begin speaking.
“Do I have something to tell you? Were you around in the 90s? Who am I kidding of course you were. Well there was this band I was in, called Neighvana. Have you seriously never heard of it?”
I have literally never heard of this band. I was also not around in the 90s. Also I thought the band was called Horse Boys. I suppose Jedd must have rebranded and started a new band. Also I forgot that Jedd was at least fifty years old so they were definitely alive in the 90s. I am learning new things about my horse roommate.
“No no no I’ve totally heard of Neighvana, that's sick man.” I say. I don’t particularly want a lecture from a boomer on “real music” or anything.
“Anyways, they could tell that I was the top brass because after their lead singer died in an accident that I will always say was the most tragic thing ever to happen to someone.”
Jedd looks at the ground before continuing, a faraway look in their eyes.
“And to think, it could have been me on that clock tower…”
Jedd looks up at the ceiling and blinks. The gesture looked almost rehearsed.
“So after the accident the band needed a new singer, and they saw me, with a voice that I bet you can already tell is at the peak of equestrian might. And with them I toured for ages, I met so many women, stardom was the life for me. But after the band fell apart, people started asking questions. What did they mean clock tower? Why were there no witnesses?
"And then the press, and the media. So now I’m here. At the University of Arkansas. Majoring in business. The other majors I was considering sounded too hard and I don’t want to do, like, work, you know?”
It really sounds like Jedd killed this guy. Also, they’re lazy. Also, I hate their facial hair. That’s reason enough to kill them. Chop them up. Blend them maybe. Drink it like a smoothie.
“So, did you do it?” Hiro asks.
“Nah. That would make me a bad person. A murderable person even. But I didn’t.”
I wanna kill them. I’m so gross and horny and virginal that it’s just built up inside of me for too long and I want to spill some blood. Smear it on my face so none will ever gaze upon this wretched visage again. Make them into some lovely horse sausage. Maybe fuck the corpse.
I suppose this is what happens when a tall scrawny chicken boy falls in love with an unfathomably technologically advanced robot from beyond the stars and quite possibly this realm, is left to stew in his horny little incel emotions for years upon years, and finally watches his unrequited loves eyes go dark in an accident beyond his control without ever confessing his feelings. In the throes of the most tumultuous day of his life, he loses what little humanity he has left. I can feel it slipping away as even the fiery rage that had warmed my innards moments before makes it's exit. I feel like I’m pissing and shitting and cumming and throwing up all the love that I had felt for the world. I hate this horse. And they’re clearly a bad person. I wonder if Hiro is maybe a horrible person who would want to help me murder them. He’s a super smart science kid, I bet he’d be into some murder and then a lovely creative project wherein we reanimate Jedd’s dead horse body and rig him up to Moby’s circuits so he’s a monstrous centaur robot, kind of like they did in that one episode of Rick and Morty where (spoilers) Rick turns himself into a pickle and accidentally falls into a sewer drain but he doesn’t have arms because he’s a pickle so he can’t get out and then fights a bunch of rats to make himself into a rat pickle man all because he didn’t want to go to therapy. Wait, these are some pretty disturbing thoughts I’m having right now, maybe we should all take a breather and go to therapy together. Me, Hiro, Baymax, Moby, and Jedd. Jedd. I hate Jedd. I especially hate their facial hair. No, I have to kill them. I have to kill them now. I’ve used my brain too much, I’ve gotten all caught up in my head at every checkpoint at which I’ve had to make a decision. I’m not living my life. I deserve to go batshit. No I don’t, I’m such a slimy little man boy. I don’t deserve anything. Actually, I don’t think that anybody “deserves” anything in this world. I think that what I believe in my heart is that we’re just dealt what we’re dealt, and it’s not fair but the unfairness doesn’t mean that we are owed anything by the universe. I think that when we get around to believing that we are owed something by this beautiful and unresponsive and wonderful, wonderful world, and things go wrong, we take it as an excuse to let ourselves be unkind to people to even it out or something. But kindness is the answer. Love is the answer. Putting as much good into the world as you can despite what it gives you is the answer. But we’re still going to kill the horse. Soft pine needles under your feet. Killing the horse. Taking walks in the rain until your face is numb and your legs are burning, but you feel washed clean of your sins. Jedd’s sins too, after we kill them. The way geese look when they duck their silly little heads underwater to nibble pondweed. Nibbling Jedd’s toenails and them not being able to stop us because they’re dead. Those little guys that live in the moss and look like tiny robot bears. I think they’re called tardigrades. Actually I know they’re called tardigrades. I had a tardigrade phase in middle school. Anyway. Killing the horse.The simpler things in life, like waking up early to read poetry in the woods. Killing the horse. Or skipping stones across the water. Killing the horse. Planning a special day for a friend just because. The highest hills in the Hot Springs National Park. The Hot Springs National Park in general, which is lovely and if you haven’t gone to see it you have not yet lived. One could say, fall in love with nature there a million times in a million different ways. There’s a beautiful stand of grass on a hill somewhere I’m sure. A tunnel you can walk through in your bare feet. Tetanus who? We are young. We are living. We are ripping apart bread to share and the sun is rising. My mouth does not yet taste bitter from the first time I said your name out loud, just months ago. Jedd.
Jedd.
Your long, horsey face before me. Your disgusting, flea-ridden facial hair. The possible murder from your past and the absence of regret in your eyes. The fact that you are simply here and I am young and horny and filled with rage. Jedd.
I realize I’ve been staring holes through Jedd’s skull when Hiro places his hand on my shoulder, turning me away from the living room and toward my side of the room. He shuts the door behind us and turns me to face him.
“Listen. You got kind of far away in there. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I meet his eyes and find mute stones staring back at me. The look is deep and empty, and more intense than I’ve felt in eons. Hiro sees me. Hiro understands.
“Are you thinking that we murder Jedd and we use his body as parts to repair Moby and make him into a robot horse man? Cause I’ve been thinking about that all night. Can we do that? Please? Please?”
“Oh my god Tim I was going to propose that we go back to the lab but I’ve been thinking about it and I’m definitely in love with you, so whatever you want to do I’m down.”
I accept this. I lean forward and I give Hiro the sloppiest, most sensual kiss on the mouth. He responds in kind, and moves his mouth upwards to my nose and begins sucking on it. He vacuums the boogers out of my nose with his mouth, clearing my nostrils of their filth with efficiency and skill. He leans back away from me, smacking his lips, savoring the taste.
“Tim baby, do you know why I’ve just sucked the snot and the boogers out of your nose?”
I shake my head no. I have no idea why Hiro sucked the snot and boogers out of my nose.
He takes a breath and continues.
“I sucked the snot and boogers out of your nose and swallowed them because I’ve noticed that you have been sniffling a lot since we have been together and I wanted you to feel comfortable with the fullness of your nasal cavities. But more importantly, I want you to know that I’m in this with you. We are about to kill this horse. That’s probably illegal. And once this is over, I am going to stick with you. What happens to you will happen to me. So, I’ve sucked the boogers out of your nose as a gesture of my love. If you have a cold, I’m going to have a cold. In sickness and in health. In this case, sickness. I love you Tim. You’re my forever girl.”
That’s kind of cool I guess. I honestly wasn’t a fan of the whole sucking boogers and snot out of my nose situation as a gesture of affection, but it feels nice to hear that I’m loved. But what is weighing more heavily on my mind than Hiro’s declaration of love is murdering Jedd. I really want to murder Jedd.
I grab the only metal fork I own from its place in my toothbrush cup and I stab Jedd in the stomach. They immediately fall over and start crying like a horse. You know, all neighing and wet and stuff.
“Tim you bitch what have you done this for?” Jedd moans
“Literally I hate horses so much you big poo, also I have other reasons but I can’t explain to you what they are even though I will never get the chance to again cause you’ll be dead. We’re gonna use your body parts to make a body for my robot lover who isn’t my lover because I have a wonderful boyfriend now, I just still care about the robot and want him to be happy. You know, as a horse.” I explain, shoving the fork deeper into Jedd’s stomach.
“OUR GOD HAS CURSED THIS TIMELINE!” Hiro shouts, eyes burning. What he sees, I cannot, but I know Hiro must have seen some horrible truth that only the most damaged of us can see. I thought there was some limit to the depths of Hell that surely I would never make it to. But Hiro has, and he’s inviting me with him.
Hiro grabs one of the bottles from Jedd’s stash and breaks off the top of the bottle, leaving a sharp edge. Before I can blink he rams it into Jedds neck. Like an idiot, Jedd staggers before pulling the point out of their neck. Clearly they have not seen the plethora of movies in which people do this exact thing and everyone harps on about how stupid it is. Oh well. Jedd didn’t seem like the brightest guy. But then again, I did not know them that well.
I take a moment to look back on my life and think about what led me here.
From the corner of the room, I hear a movement. I lift my head off of Hiro’s shoulder and open my eyes to see Jedd clawing at the hole in their neck, eyes open and fixed upon me. With what appears to be their last shred of mortal energy, they raise their hand to point at me as their dying breath makes it's exit. I lean closer.
“I don’t know what I may seem to the world. But as to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the seashore and diverting myself now and then in finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than the ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me. Being bisexual is a slur. Goodbye”
Fair enough. I bow my head.
Hiro pulls away from me, turning to the sessile Moby’s box of parts and the body of my once-roommate. We have work to do.
Notes:
I’m sorry, this fanfic has gone off the rails. I can’t promise it will ever return to normal or even return to the original plot at this point. Love y’all.
Chapter 6: Chapter 6: I wrote this months ago
Chapter Text
The fisherman comes up
Puts his two poles in the sand
He stares out at the sea
Just exactly like me
But I've got a book in my hand
We will have caught on to something by the end of the day
But mostly we think about the one that got away
-Indigo Girls
I wake in the morning and the sun is shining through the window of my dorm. Bonjour, glorious day. Ciao, dark past. I am turning over a new leaf and beginning a beautiful new life with my new lover, Hiro Hamada from Big Hero 6. Which is not a movie and is in fact another reality parallel to mine, but with significantly more robots. And the entire room smells like horse innards.
Jedd Boorack of Neighvana and I were the last of my original pod of four quadmates in my dorm, so I’m the last one standing as Jedd is being dismembered by my boyfriend in the next room. I’m not certain as to what he’s doing in there, but he’s making headway on this project faster than I’ve ever seen someone work. At first I tried to help Hiro, but my task quickly turned to holding things after it became apparent that Hiro’s scientific knowledge far surpassed my own. Thankfully, I was freed from this humiliating job by the stench of horse organs, which provided a new problem that needed to be fixed. Thus, I’d spent the last several days running errands and trying to figure out how to make sure that none of the stench leached into the rest of the building. Multiple fans are blowing towards my room, the source of the smell. I lay on the couch and have alarms set every thirty minutes so I can spray an entire can of Ozium into the fans. This has been going on for four days now. My grades are trash and the bags under my eyes are dark and puffy, but I’m adjusting to my new life. This is not a bad way to live out the rest of my days if Hiro never finishes what he’s working on.
Time passes differently these days. I savor the seconds that draw on for a lifetime. To suffer, to feel joy, there is no difference to me. Ozium and horse guts. The feeling of the fans blowing chilly air and the sound of my alarm, going off over and over. Hiro’s occasional shouting for me to make him a sandwich. Sweet boy.
This morning feels different somehow. There’s totally some kind of something in the air. Maybe the spirit of adventure? Yes. YES. This is the day everything comes together probably. I just have a feeling and I crave a change from this monogamy. Wait did I say monogamy? I meant monotony. I love monogamy and I’m not attracted to the Moby-horse robot hybrid at all.
There is a loud bang from my dorm room, followed by an increase in the sound of George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue . Hiro has gotten very into George Gershwin as of late and I now have an encyclopedic knowledge of George Gershwin. Maybe I’m losing my sense of identity because now I’m beginning to like George Gershwin even though it’s literally just noise and I still don’t understand it after all this time.
Hiro exits the dorm room, scatting along with George Gershwin’s jazz piano and it’s bad. But I support him and love him in all endeavors. Even this one.
“Tim! Today is the day!”
He kisses me on the mouth. Then he moves to my nose and sucks out the boogers. I have had this cold for so goddamn long. I appreciate this. But I am more focused on Moby.
“Is he……you know,,,,……Moby-ey?” I ask.
Hiro beams with pride.
“He’s totally Moby-ey. Like, the exact same as the old Moby but his bottom half is the bottom half as your horse roommate that we killed. Also, you know how Moby was your best friend except Moby was unable to feel human emotions so your friendship with him was one-sided at best? Well apparently he had emotions the whole time but his emotions switch was flipped to ‘off’. So I unflipped it! And Moby can feel stuff! God, I’m such a good boyfriend. Kiss me again.”
So I kiss him again.
BEEEEEEEEP.
Omg omg. My dearest Mobes. It’s been so long since I’ve heard that beep.
I squeeze Hiro’s hand and break the kiss and dash to the other side of the room and throw open the door like a guy who has been throwing open doors his whole life waiting for this moment.
Holy shit Tim it's so good to see you bestie!
OMg Moby totally loves me and we’re gonna be best friends forever. Fuck this Hiro guy I’m gonna love Moby forever and get all my love from him from now on. Nvm that’s insane and I’ve actually grown quite attached to the Hiro guy. I should kiss him again.
I kiss Hiro. God I’m so in love.
Hiro is sitting in a little ball on the floor like he does. He is so cute and perfect and wonderful. He begins to speak in his beautiful angellic voice.
“Omg Tim we’ve been in your dorm for weeks and we should go somewhere else. Let’s go on a trip. Let’s see the world. Sticck out toes in the mud. Leave this whole dimension hopping scifi universe behind and go to the beach.”
I am so excited to go to the beach now. Fuckin sand man.
Chapter 7: Chapter 7: Dick Raddison
Chapter Text
This is the first day of my life
Swear I was born right in the doorway
I went out in the rain, suddenly everything changed
They're spreading blankets on the beach
-Bright Eyes
We! Are! At the airport! The boys and their bots! The bot boys!
Hiro is having a bad time.
“Fuck I hate lines.”
He is so sad. I will give him a little kiss and an acorn from my pocket. He appears to perk up a little bit. But he is still so sad. My heart is breaking and I want to burn down the airport. But then we couldn’t go to the beach and we want to go to the beach so bad. Still, maybe the idea of burning down the airport will make him giggle.
“Hiro you know what we should do.”
“I don't know Tim what do you think we should do?”
“We should burn down the airport lol.”
“Nah then we couldn’t go to the beach.”
The line is getting shorter. A woman comes up to our little group and looks quizzical.
“So what are y’all trying to pull here? You can't take those guys on the plane. It says clearly in the employee handbook that we’re supposed to confiscate all human sized robots because they are terrorists.”
Hiro smiles his perfect smile and pulls a knife out of his pocket.
“I think we can fix that.”
He stabs Baymax in the stomach. Baymax deflates. Hiro folds him up and puts him in his carry on luggage. He turns back to the security guard.
“Is there still a problem? He is no longer human sized.”
“Yes.” she responds. “You just pulled out a huge knife in the airport so we’re going to have to confiscate that. And you still have another huge robot.”
Hiro is so sad again. He hands over his knife because we want to go to the beach. But Moby! Moby has got to go to the beach too. We love Moby. I will take care of this.
“Hello security guard woman, I am a prince from a foreign nation that you’ve never heard of and I actually own this airport. This is my emotional support robot and I’m allowed to take him on the plane because I said so. And he’s not a robot he’s actually a regular human person with a skin condition so it’s actually very rude of you to call him that, he just looks like a scary metallic robot person because of his skin condition.”
The woman does not look convinced at ALL. Time to pull out the big guns.
“Also, if you care to look closer, you'll notice that he has real organic horse legs. You can feel them if you don’t believe it. They’re soft. So he can’t be a robot because he's at least part horse.”
Hiro speaks up too.
“Twenty eight percent horse actually.”
She stoops down to feel.
“Wow those are in fact organic horse legs. I guess you can’t be lying then. Right this way your majesty.” She bows.
I start going but then think better of it. One more thing.
“Oh and can my boyfriend have his knife back?”
“Yes I am so sorry my liege.” She hands over the knife.
We all skip through the airport holding hands and they immediately let us board the plane because I am a prince now.
I board the plane and sit next to a young man with a blue mullet because he looks cool. He shakes my hand.
“Bonjour good sir, I am Dick Raddison.”
I like Dick already. He seems friendly and I like the way he introduced himself to me. Maybe he’s French. He’s got a bit of a gallic mustache, I’d believe it.
“Bonjour Dick, I’m Tim. These are my compatriots Moby and Hiro Hamada. There is a fourth one of us but he is in secret.”
“Cool beans broski. Where’s your destinash?”
“Shithole Beach.”
“Fuckkk Shithole Beach, dawg. I was on my way to a funeral but my layover’s in Shithole Beach. What’re y’all up to there?”
Hiro chimes in.
“We’re going to start a new life. We’re kinda fleeing a crime scene.”
“Radical, mind if I come? Y’all seem like solid dudes.”
This is an odd proposal. But sure.
“Yeah sure.”
We shoot the shit with Dick Raddison for the remainder of the flight. I learn that he’s a master dick sucker and collects little statues of animals, little ceramic bunnies and bears and things. I will die for Dick Raddison. And apparently, so would many of the people we come across over the next few hours. When the flight attendant comes round to take drink orders, Dick orders a scotch and gives her a wink, and they head to the airplane bathroom after she makes her rounds. Once we arrive at the Shithole Airport, Dick proves to be useful there as well. After a few minutes of him chatting up some sexy young lad, we’ve scored a free ride to the beach. I love Dick Raddison.
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