Your name is Dave Strider and you are 26 years old. You have just gotten engaged. The problem being that you have just gotten engaged to your best male friend in a furious fit of stupidity, champagne, one-upmanship and a weird warm-glowy feeling that occasionally (or more than occasionally) rolls around in the pit of your stomach and makes you act like a moron. You have, over the past 13 years and much careful experimentation, dubbed this “The Egbert Effect”. You would like to state, for the record, that you are definitely, completely and 100% NOT A HOMOSEXUAL. As Bro carefully describes to you what, as the DJ, he’s going to play at the reception (almost entirely a medley of Nicki Minaj and Ke$ha), you carefully nurse a Rock Star and vodka like a 16 year old girl who just popped her cherry at prom and try to figure out what the fuck happened over the past decade or so to land you in this mess.

In which Dave Strider, Karkat Vantas, and John Egbert decide to rent a house near campus pre-furnished to save themselves the unutterable joy of Ikea allen-wrenches, Dave discovers why you should never attempt to move a universe without assistance, and Karkat is the best housemate: it is hands-down no-questions-asked him.

Slice of life, only the lives are Ed Elric's and Roy Mustang's. Politics. Violence. Stupidity. A lot of animals. True love(?). And of course like 4 separate instances of fake dating