Making a dick joke was a strategic error. You put the subject on the metaphorical table. You're now thinking about troll dick.

Your afterlife groove thing is being visited by an underage crossdressing alien. Okay.

Little gray aliens aren't people, no matter how well they fake it. They can be domesticated, though. Might as well keep them around, right?

Dirk laughs, presses his lips to the sweat-drenched nape of your neck, lets his teeth scrape the skin. "Don't worry, babe, I'm not going to leave you hanging. I've got something special for you. Get up."

Dave nods. "Most of the inhabitants of this sorry rock," he confides, "cry themselves to sleep at night at the knowledge that you beat them to the incomparable prize of Dave Strider's undivided affections." There's not enough irony left in this poor depleted universe to sustain statements like that very often, so he kisses Tavros again before he can talk himself into actual sincere confession time.

Having an alien boyfriend is a little like an adventure and a little like a science experiment. Fortunately for you (and for your alien boyfriend), those are both things you really like.

It's not a glamorous job, but you can set your own hours, the pay rate is good now that you know what you're doing, and it leaves you with enough free time to enjoy your hobbies. You like to think you're doing pretty well for yourself.

You sit down in your computer chair and try not to squirm or shiver too much when she brushes your hair back from your earflap. You've never had anything pierced, and you think it probably can't be worse than getting injured during the game, but it's hard to relax all the same. You weren't just sitting and waiting to get hurt then. "Aight," Meenah says. "Let's get this shoal on the road." "Do it," you say. You close your eyes.

You try to dress nice. How do you dress nice for a sex club? You have no fucking idea. But you've got the greaser cool guy look down pretty good, and you think it works for you. You wear your tightest t-shirt. You spend like fifteen minutes in front of the bedroom mirror trying to decide which pair of jeans is the most flattering for your glutes. This is your chance.

You definitely want to encourage Equius, among other verbs. This stupid gift exchange is just forcing your hand, when you wanted more time to get to know him, figure out who he is when he's not being completely suborned by your worst successful project to date. You don't know enough of his buttons yet to be sure you're pushing the right ones.

"Whatever nasty ideas I just gave you, go for it. I'm your kinky alien sex toy for the night or whatever," and with Terezi looming over you and Karkat's big hands on you that's suddenly a seriously, intensely possible thing. You are having a vision of the future and it involves a lot of troll junk.

"You aren't denying the guilt part," she says happily. You shrug. This was the way you really liked her, alert and predatory, delighted with life and always a little weird. "You could find anybody guilty of something." "That," Terezi declares, "is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me."