whatsupinvertebrother:

Gamzee watches her cough as he grabs the bub and sets to taking his hit. He hadn’t meant to encourage her to take two in a row, he just wasn’t paying attention. He smiles when he remembers that now he can do the same, and takes his first hit eagerly. Smoke curl up towards the ceiling as he replied to Vriska’s query.

ThEy aIn’T AlL Up tO MuCh. KaRkAt gOt hImSeLf a gIg wRiTiNg fOr oNe O’ tHeM WeEkLy nEwSpApErS AbOuT SoMeSuCh. He sAiD He aLl tRyIn’ To tAkE ClAsSeS FoR WrItInG SoMeWhErEs ‘rOuNd hErE. gOt a pApEr rOuTe tOo; He dOnE Be oNe oF ThEm mOtHeRfUcKeRs aLl tHrOwIn’ NeWsPrInT FrOm a bIkE At aSs o’ cLoCk iN ThE MoRnInG. i dOn’T AlL Up aNd kNoW AbOuT KaNaYa. BeSt fRiEnD WaS KiNdA MuM On tHe sUbJeCt.

He takes his second hit, and makes it a doozy. He’s not actively trying to kill it, just looking for a real nice hit. And man, does he get it; as he exhales he can feel it crawl up inside his head and take a big ol’ bite out of his brain. He sets the bub down, slowly, and turns his head, slooooowly, to look at Vriska. She’s sitting back on the couch, and doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to him. Gamzee licks his lips, sloooooooooowly. He doesn’t even notice himself slooooooooooooooowly leaning towards his smoke buddy, or the way his eyes have locked on to her face. There might be a little growly voice in his head saying unkind words to him, but he doesn’t register. Nothing does, until he grabs Vriska and pulls her flush against him and kisses her.

Her lips are indeed soft, if quite dry. She tastes like smoke, the pleasant earthy taste of weed mixing with the bitterness of tabacco in equal measure. Yeah. This is what he came here for. He just didn’t know it until know. 

MoSt MoThErFuCkIn’ ExCeLlEnT.

Vriska sees him moving toward her, but she’s so high that it doesn’t occur to her to move or even to question it. But then he’s touching her and pulling her closer and it takes a second for her to register what’s happening and try to pull away but by that point it’s too late: his lips are pressed to her lips and his grasp is too firm. She MMMPHs into the kiss before jerking her head back and working her arms up so she can push hard against his chest and escape.

Makara what the f8ck????????

All of her muscles are tensed and her fists are clenched. She’s seething, overcome with anger and disbelief. Before she really thinks it through, she’s throwing a punch at his face and shouting, Don’t fucking touch me!

(Source: we8ofserkets)

whatsupinvertebrother:

Gamzee hears Vriska put on some music and smiles. “AwWwW YeAh, ChIlL TuNeS. tHaT’s wHaT I’m aLl uP AnD MoThErFuCkIn’ aBoUt.” He smiles and checks out the bub, honing his light in on the little bit of green left in the bowl. It tastes good, and he leans back on the couch, letting the smoke float gently out of his mouth. He watches the shapes the smoke makes as it twists and turns. Miracles.

“So i hUnG OuT WiTh kArKaT NoT ToO MoThErFuCkIn’ LoNg aGo. He’S LiViN’ HeReAbOuTs wItH KaNaYa. YoU SeEn tHeM StAlKiN’ aRoUnD At aLl?” He takes a drink of his soda and sits the can back on the table. He sets the bub next to it and looks over at Vriska. It’s almost like she’s ignoring him; she’s hardly spoken to him since he got here. He’s not sure how he feels about that.

He finds himself studying her profile very carefully: the line of her jaw, her sharp nose, the gentle blue flush in her cheeks. Her hair is piled on her shoulders and cascades down her back, and her lips are thin, but look soft. 

No, MoThErFuCkEr. He clamps down on those thoughts. He really needs to control himself better. But it’s hard. So hard. How many days does he just sit in that fucking room and stare at the walls? It’s so boring. And he’s always so lonely…

“YoU OuGhTtA SmOkE ThAt sHiT,” he says to her, more to break the uncomfortable silence than anything.

Hearing the names Karkat and Kanaya makes Vriska a little uncomfortable. She tries not to react visibly, but those are two people she’s not sure she wants to see any time soon, Kanaya especially. She’s glad it’s her hit. “No, I haven’t.” She reaches for the piece and takes her turn. She wants to talk about something else, but can’t think of anything. And she does kind of miss them; she misses everyone. Why else would she have Gamzee over? Her curiosity gets the better of her. “What have they 8een up to?”

Vriska stares down at the glassware in her hand, her head suddenly full of thoughts about the game and her past with Kanaya and even Karkat. It’s not pleasant. She generally tries not to think about anyone from before; it just makes her feel guilty and lonely. Really, Gamzee’s the only one who doesn’t: he seemed to be almost as strongly disliked as she was, for good reason, and his new life is just as lonely and pathetic as hers.

“I’ll 8e glad to do that,” Vriska answers, a little startled. She’d been pretty lost in her thoughts and his voice was a bit jarring. She pulls a large hit from the bub, not on her turn, and tries to push the thoughts out of her head. She exhales a cloud of thick smoke and begins to cough a bit. Leaning forward and pressing her free hand over her mouth to stifle the coughing, she sets the piece on the table and picks up her soda instead. She takes a few small sips and manages to relax. She doesn’t usually cough. It bothers her a lot when she does. But she forgets as she leans back into the couch and notices that she’s started to feel a little bit lighter. This was the feeling she’d been looking for.

(Source: we8ofserkets)

whatsupinvertebrother:

HeH, i tRy.

He fucks with the bub a little bit, trying to get the water to go in. After Vriska fills it for him, he looks up and gives her a sheepish smile. NaH MoThErFuCkEr, I ThInK I GoT It. 

He shuffles back to the couch, sitting down, gently this time, so as not to upset anything. The he reaches over and snags the baggie full of weed and starts parceling it into the grinder, a lazy smile on his face, his eyes half closed. He was gonna smoke up. With Spidertits. Aw yeeeeeeeeee. They were gonna hang out and shit. And cuddle. Yeah, probably some cuddling in there…good shit.

Yo mOtHeRfUcKeR, nOt wHaT YoU’Re hEaR FoR.

Gamzee shakes his head. This again? This was just not day. First the freakout earlier, and now he can’t stop motherfucking thinking about Vriska.

He finishes grinding the weed and quickly packs the bubbler After a moment’s hesitation, he unscrews the bottom of the grinder and taps some kief out, too. WeLl, OnE WaY To fIx tHaT… He lifts the bub to his lips and pulls. Flame, meet weed. Burn weed, burn. The smoke fills the chambers and sails into his mouth; after a moment he releases the carb, and the bubbler empties. The smoke tastes earthy, a little citrus-y, most motherfucking excellent. He grins and the hit comes out through his teeth. He feels better already.

He holds the bub out to Vriska, still cheesing. HeRe, I GoT YoU SoMeThIn’.

Vriska rolls her eyes as she takes the piece. She bites back a “that’s stupid” and instead says, “Oh you shouldn’t have,” her voice thick with sarcasm. She takes her hit and blows out the cloud of smoke. It occurs to her that she should probably block the bottom of the door with a towel or something and open a window to keep the hallway from smelling like smoke, but she’s already comfortable and smoking and, if she were being totally honest, she doesn’t really care. So she dismisses the thought.

She gives the bubbler back wordlessly and doesn’t look at him. She realizes she doesn’t really have anything to say. It’s awkward, and sitting in weird silence like this is more discomfort than she’s willing to put up with for this clown so she contorts her body in a way that allows her to reach her computer so she can pull it into her lap and start looking for some music to put on.

[S] Vriska: Play Gamegrl (Original 1993 Mix)

What? No. She will definitely not do that. That’s stupid. Instead she can’t decide what to put on, so she hits shuffle and plays something at random, turning down the volume so Gamzee’s not likely to notice if anything bad or embarrassing comes on. It’s just background noise, and it’s much better than sitting in silence.

She still feels a little like she should probably make small talk or something, but decides not to sweat it: he’s comfortable, has refreshment, and they’re not sitting in awkward silence anymore. Clearly, Vriska is an excellent host.

(Source: we8ofserkets)

whatsupinvertebrother:

Gamzee follows his reluctant host into the apartment building, locking the door behind him when she says. He follows her up to the doorway and gives the apartment a once-over.

NiCe dIgS, sPiDeRgIrL. gUeSs iT PaYs tO HaVe mOtHeRfUcKiN MiNd cOnTrOl pOwErS, hUh?

He wanders over to the kitchen and sticks his head in the fridge, taking stock of its contents before retreating with soda in hand. He pops the tab and takes a swig. AhHhH. tHaT HiTs tHe sPoT ReAl gOoD. He’s got cottonmouth from the joint, and it’s only gonna worse from there, so the liquid sugar he’s currently gulping is a welcome respite.

He flops on the couch, all arms and legs, setting his backpack on the floor in front of him. He reaches in and pulls out the weed. Yep. Still purple. He gives it a sniff—MoThErFuCkInG MiRaClEs—and tosses it to Vriska. ChEcK ThAt sHiT OuT. dAnK As a mOtHeRfUcKeR CoUlD AsK FoR, yO.

He roots around some more and comes up with the bubbler. So i jUsT GoT ThIs lItTlE MoThErFuCkEr. AiNt nEvEr eVeN SmOkEd iT YeT. wE AlL GoTtA CoMe uP WiTh a nAmE AnD ShIt. FiGuReD YoU CoUlD HeLp oUt.

He takes the bub to the kitchen sink and fills it. Or…he tries. There are three water chambers, and they connect in such a way that every time Gamzee tries to fill one, he empties another. 

UhHhHh…mAyBe yOu cOuLd aLl uP AnD HeLp wItH ThIs, ToO.

I’m just taking care of myself. I’m not all a8out living on the streets.

Vriska’s actually kind of proud of her apartment. Maybe it’s not much, especially compared to her home back on Alternia, but she has all the rooms and space she needs. She has living room furniture, even is if is second hand and in some cases makeshift. She has a bed that she supposes is pretty comfy. It took some getting used to and it’s the only one she’s ever slept in, but she has plenty of blankets and sometimes if she tucks herself in right, it feels almost the same. She’s not sure what the usual standard of living is here, but she’s comfortable, and it’s a lot nicer than Gamzee’s place, and that’s enough for her.

The mess of arms and legs passing for a troll plopping down next to her pulls Vriska out of her prideful, slightly mean train of thought. She takes a long sip from her soda while he goes on about the marijuana. She can smell the plant as soon as he pulls the baggie out and she picks it up when it lands beside her on the cushion. She can’t help but smile a little when she sees that it really is mostly purple. She moves it closer to her face and takes a whiff herself.

Daaaaaaaamn, clown8oy. Well, if there’s anything you’re good for, it’s good 8ud.

She dares to smile at him, less uncomfortable with his presence already, though not quite letting her guard down. He was still Gamzee, after all. She leans forward to set the weed on the table and to take a bit of a closer look at the bubbler before he stands up and starts splashing around in her kitchen. She’s spacing out and waiting for him to come back when he asks for her help. She sighs and pushes herself up off of the couch and makes her way to the kitchen.

Vriska scoffs and takes the bubbler from him. Wow, how could you fuck this up She shakes her head as she fills it, the chambers full a few seconds later. She hands it back to him and turns the water off. Can you handle taking it 8ack to the couch and packing it, or do you need me to do that too?

(Source: we8ofserkets)

whatsupinvertebrother:

Gamzee’s eyes water a little when a cloud of secondhand smoke envelopes his head, but his smile remains fixed in place. He’s too high to actually care, anyway. 

He suddenly notices the pack of cigs floating in front of him, and stifles a drug-fueled laugh at the irony. NaH, tHiNk i’M GoOd, ChIcKaDeE. He smirks at her and holds up his mostly smoked joint. I’d rEtUrN ThE MoThErFuCkIn fAvOr, BuT ThIs bItCh iS AlL BuT FiNiShEd. He takes a hit and abruptly rushes up to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and burying his nose in her thick, dark hair. MmM, yOu sMeLl gOoD. yOu bEeN UsInG SoMe kInDa fAnCy sHaMpOo oR SoMe sHiT?

In the back of his head, in a little corner that remains uncomfortably lucid no matter how much slime he eats or how much weed he smokes, there’s a little voice telling him off for getting so touchy with her. 

ShE’s oFf lImItS, mOtHeRfUcKeR. tHiS AiN’t wHaT YoU CaMe hErE To dO.

MoThErFuCk It aIn’T.

…And now he’s arguing with himself. He really needs to calm down; Karkat doesn’t make him lose his shit like this, and Karkat is responsible and has a life and should by all accounts make Gamzee feel terrible about himself, yet somehow doesn’t. Nope, just this bitch, who has a life about as lonely and meaningless as his. Maybe it’s because seeing her is like facing an uncomfortable truth.

He offers her the last hit off the j despite his earlier statement, holding it up in front of her nose, thin curls of smoke coming from the tip. 

So wE GoNnA Go iNsIdE AnD HaVe fUn, Or wE GoNnA StAnD OuT HeRe aNd fReEzE OuR MoThErFuCkInG AsSeS OfF?

Suit yourself.

Vriska is shoving the little box back into her pocket when Gamzee lovingly assaults her. She’s knocked off balance and braces a hand against the wall so she doesn’t fall over, all while resisting the urge to reach over and stub the cigarette out on him. She roughly pushes him away. Get off of me!!!!!!!! Not hitting him is another conscious struggle. Humans don’t like that sort of thing in public, though, and they’re already really conspicuous. Plus Gamzee has drugs on him and is smoking in public. She grinds her teeth, takes another step away, and pulls on her cigarette again.

Don’t fucking touch me, douche8ag. You’ll make me regr8t my invitation.

She takes her time smoking after that, not speaking to him or even really looking at him until he offers her the joint, which she waves away wordlessly. She’s almost done smoking when he speaks to her again and she’s relaxed a little bit since his inappropriate touching. Wow, rude. Way to 8e a 8ad guest, inviting yourself in and shit. She moves the cigarette to her lips a final time, taking a long drag and finishing it almost to the filter. She flicks the butt into the street and fishes her keys out of her pocket. Come on.

Vriska unlocks the door and steps inside, not bothering to wait before starting up the stairs. Make sure you lock that 8ehind you, she says over her shoulder, before making her way to the second floor and down the hall to her door. She heads inside, leaving the door open behind her, assuming her guest will keep up.

Inside, she pulls takes off the sweatshirt and tosses it in a heap near the door, taking a minute to smooth her hair. Or to pretend that she can tame her hair, anyway. She’s not great about keeping up with it. She steps into the small kitchen, separated from the living room only by a tall counter that could probably use some bar stools. She opens the fridge and returns to the living room with a can of soda. The bright blue and silver logo alone suggests the taste of the excessive amount of sugar and chemicals. The flavor could probably be described as blue.

Vriska flops down on the couch, which is a mildly worn, rather lumping looking but pretty cushy dark blue number she found at a garage sale where she spent a fair amount of time “haggling” (a word which here means intimidating and manipulating just a little bit) with the seller. A large, black trunk sits a few feet from the couch, serving as a coffee table, and on the other side of that sit two bean bag chairs, one black and one green, that have both been repaired by previous owners. These are pawn shop finds, as well as a black floor lamp that sits in the corner near one of the bean bag chairs. The patchwork room is less messy than usual, but still pretty untidy. A couple empty soda cans, some assorted paper, and a lighter sit on the “coffee table.” Another empty can has been knocked to the floor. Some other assorted refuse is scattered about; she seldom takes the time to put things away. Her computer is by the end of the couch, not quite closed and still not quite open, and the chargers to that and her cell phone are a hopelessly tangled mess nearby.

She angles her body so she can lean in the the corner of the couch and allow her legs to take up about half of the space while still putting her feet on the trunk. She opens the can and takes a sip before remembering that she’s playing host. She’s not entirely sure what to do, having never been in this situation before.

Well. Make yourself comforta8le. I guess.

(Source: we8ofserkets)

whatsupinvertebrother:

It’s Saturday evening, and South Street is crowded with the usual flock of tourists and bar hopping college kids. Gamzee can tell who frequents the area and who doesn’t by the way they react to him: people who come down to South regularly or who are regular patrons at Repo just kind of give him a look; the tourists stare openly and Gamzee catches sight of a number of pointing fingers. He’s used to it, though. It’s been nearly seven years he’s been living on Earth; the whispers and stares are nothing to him anymore.

He swings down seventh and away from the crowds, heading for Vriska’s place. The cold has calmed him down a bit, and he’s not quite as stoned as he was when he left. Not that he’s anything approaching sober. The cold breeze feels like swarms of tiny ice insects crawling on his skin. Slime highs are always more intense when it comes to sensations, he’s found. More of a body high. He can feel it in his fingers and his wrists and his knees. There’s a rhythmic vibration in his legs as his board rides over cracks in the sidewalk and manhole covers. It feels good.

Only a little further now…was the address on Wharton, or Washington? Or was it something else? Gamzee fishes his phone out of his pocket, along with a baggie of joints he fortunately remembered to pack. He checks Vriska’s last text…oh, right. That’s where it was. He pulls a joint from the bag and lights up as he rides. The smoke cascades from his lips and sails behind him.

He takes a right and he’s on the right block. Now where…oh. There. The stoop with the troll girl on it. She’s having a smoke by the look of it. Gamzee allows himself a guilty smile. He always thought it was hot when she smoked. It was part of the reason he started carrying cigarettes, so he could offer her one.

BrOtHeR, tHaT Is nOt a tRaIn oF ThOuGhT YoU WaNt tO Be bOaRdInG. sTaTiOn pLaTfOrM’s cLoSeD, mOtHeRfUcKeR.

Right. Let’s put the creepy thoughts about his…whatever they were…on ice for a while.

He gives her a big smile as he rolls up, all teeth and innocence.

HeY ThErE, sPiDeRtItS. wHaT’s gOoD?

The cigarette is about halfway gone when Vriska hears the clacking of the the longboard’s wheels. She doesn’t turn her head until the sound stops and she hears the familiar voice. She looks to him and exhales a stream of smoke toward him as he approaches. His smile, while warm, is full of sharp teeth and would be really menacing if she weren’t a troll and used to that sort of thing. It has been a while since she was around anyone that wasn’t a human, though, so it’s a tiny bit disarming anyway. She decides not to think about it. She makes a sour face when he addresses her as “spidertits,” but isn’t sure how to respond so she ignores it.

Smoke 8r8k. It’s fucking cold.

Vriska takes another drag and hesitates before slipping her hand into her pocket to find the half empty cigarette pack. She doesn’t actually want to give Gamzee one of her cigs, but she feels kind of lame making him watch her smoke without offering. Stupid human smoker culture customs. And she made him come all this way just to smoke her up. She pulls out the little cardboard box and lazily sort of waves it at him.

Want one?

(Source: we8ofserkets)

whatsupinvertebrother:

Go to Vriska’s? Hmmm…Gamzee wasn’t expecting that. He hasn’t ever been to Vriska’s apartment. He wonders briefly if she’s up to something, but then decides that he’s okay with that. He’s okay with basically everything right now. Goatdad could come flying out of the sky on wings of gold and silver, shitting rainbows and speaking Swahili and Gamzee wouldn’t even bat an eye. In fact…that sounds kind of awesome right about now. Some serious motherfucking miracles, brother.

Oh right. He needs to text her back. He looks at his phone for a solid minute before remembering that he can’t do it with his mind, and sends a brief reply:

SoUnDs lIkE A BiTcHtItS TiMe, SpIdErGiRl. IlL Be rIgHt tHe mOtHeRfUcK OvEr. :o)

Yeah there we go. Now…what? He’s gotta…pack. He’s gotta get some things together. Right. He’s starting to regret eating so much slime so fast, even if it did get his mind off those…other things. He’s having a hard time focusing. 

Gamzee grabs the bag of weed from his dresser and plucks out a few nugs for the trip. Wow, that shit really is purple. Like…whoa. Motherfuckin’ purp. He sticks it in a smaller baggie that he rolls up and tucks inside his jacket pocket. Then, with some effort, he grabs his grinder, and after a moment’s hesitation, his new bubbler. He still hasn’t christened it; the lingering thought of Vriska when he looks at it kept him from smoking out of it just yet. Fitting that she should decide to contact him shortly after his purchase. He puts his things in a backpack and slings it over his shoulder, and grabs his board from the corner. He’s glad he got it fixed; it’s gotten fucking cold out lately and walking anywhere would be a bitch right now.

He’s a few blocks away from the house, wheels click-clacking over uneven sidewalk, when a thought pushes its way through his sopored brain. 

He doesn’t know where Vriska lives.

MoThErFuCk. BeTtEr GeT tHaT sHiT sOrTeD oUt LiKe DoUbLeTiMe.

He pulls out his phone. Texting while boarding isn’t his strong suit, especially when he’s this high, but he manages not to eat it before sending his message.

Yo cHiCkIe bIrD, i aLl uP AnD JuSt rEaLiZeD ThIs sHiT: i gOt nO MoThErFuCkInG ClUe wHeRe i’M GoInG, hAhAhA! aIn’T ThAt a mOtHeRfUcKiN MiRaClE? sO HeLp a bRoThEr oUt gIrL; wHeRe yOu aT?

The realization that she just invited over a weird, probably very high clown with a violent past that she doesn’t like very much hits Vriska as she reads Gamzee’s response. But she shrugs to herself and continues browsing the web. There’s nothing she can do about it now, and he’s going to smoke her up. It’ll be an adventure. Or something. It doesn’t occur to her that he wouldn’t know where to go until she gets his second message and quickly replies with the address to her one bedroom apartment in South Philadelphia and instructions to text her when he arrives.

Vriska looks around the room, entertaining the notion that maybe she should clean up a little before he gets there, but she doesn’t actually care. And she did some of that earlier while she was intentionally not paying attention to her phone. In fact, she’s not sure it feels like home with all of her dishes clean. She’s restless, though. Actually, she’s almost a little stressed out. This feels like a stupid decision. But she’s definitely over thinking it. Besides, he’s not dangerous anymore.

Still, she decides to step out for a smoke. She hadn’t had a cig all day and that nicotine so many of the humans were hooked on was pretty relaxing. She had been trying to avoid going outside, but fuck it. It wouldn’t be long before she was upstairs getting down with the clown anyway. So she bundled up, digging through her bedroom for a minute to find her warmest hoodie and her fingerless gloves, that were just regular gloves with the ends cut off, but she didn’t like not being able to feel the finger tips she did have. And just wearing one glove would have been stupid.

Finally, Vriska had gone downstairs and positioned herself on the stoop, leaning so nonchalantly against the railing it was a wonder she didn’t slide off from being so smooth. She lit her cigarette, inhaled, and waited.

(Source: we8ofserkets)

whatsupinvertebrother:

Gamzee is halfway through a nice blunt and a Baconator from Wendy’s when his phone goes off. HoNk HoNK. He chuckles as he always does at the bike horn ringtone he got. Sometimes humans just have the best shit.

He’s a bit puzzled at who might’ve texted him though. He doesn’t ever get texts, because…well, he doesn’t have anyone to text him. Making a habit of sitting in your apartment and smoking your life away has that effect on a troll. He sets the blunt between his teeth and grabs his phone. When he sees who it’s from, he freezes. Just a bit.

Hey Makara. What’s up?

It’s Vriska. What does she want? Probably weed, although…she hasn’t asked him for any since that time they hung out, which is a little weird, since that was months ago. She loves being not sober almost as much as he does, and Gamzee counts that as a MoThErFuCkIn’ MiRaClE. He starts to reply to the text, but then he stops, a sudden desire to not see her swelling in his chest. She’s such a bitch, and she doesn’t actually like him, anyway. He doesn’t like her either.

HeHe, YeAh. YoU KeEp tElLiNg yOuRsElF ThAt, MoThErFuCkEr.

Gamzee immediately shakes his head at himself. He doesn’t exactly like her, but he doesn’t dislike her, either. Mostly he’s just constantly lonely. Running into Karkat alleviated that a bit, but he’s busy with his job and his classes, and Gamzee knows he hates how much Gamzee smokes, so he tries not to bug him to come over too often. But Vriska…well, she might think he’s a loser, but she’s only too happy to take his weed, and once she’s high she’s always so cuddly. Gamzee doesn’t mind that either. 

He’s asked himself before if he has feelings for her, but he stopped thinking of relationships in terms of troll quadrants ages ago, and anyway the way he feels about ol’ Spiderbitch doesn’t fall into any of those categories. He just knows that if she comes over, she’ll smoke, and if she smokes, then he’ll have someone to hold and be friendly with and pretend like his life isn’t basically bereft of meaningful relationships. 

Motherfuck. He really needs to stop thinking like that. Nothing harshes a high better than remembering what a fucking loser he is. He takes a deep drag on the blunt, but the smoke tastes sour and he quickly stabs it out on the bottom of his shoe. He gets up, agitated, and goes to the closet, where he keeps his recuperacoon. Motherfuck. MotherFUCK. He hasn’t felt this shitty in a while.

He pulls open the closet door and there it is. It’s small, built for a child, too small for him to sleep in, hence the futon, but it still makes slime as well as it ever did. His hands are shaking as he reaches in and scoops out one, two, five, a dozen handfuls of slime. He almost empties the ‘coon, the chemical taste making him nauseous. He’s fallen out of the habit of making pies lately, because it’s more effort than lighting up and he’s a lazy motherfucker if anything.

When he sits back down the slime is doing its work and he feels a little calmer. He puts on some music and leans his head back, taking a few deep breaths. He just needs to relax. For a second there, he could hear the voices in his head. They were faint, but he got real good at hearing them when he was a kid. Fucking Spiderbitch. Fucking ruined his afternoon.

He picks up the phone, intending to send her an angry reply, but by the time he does a pleasant haze has settled over his mind, and suddenly everything feels…okay. Not great, but good. Like everything’s gonna be fine, and maybe Vriska’s not so bad, and what was he getting so worked up over anyway? He should invite her over. He’s got half a good blunt left that he knows she’ll want to share with him. He can show her his now bubbler, blue with black swirls, and he’ll never tell her that he thought of her when he bought it. Yeah. That sounds motherfuckin good.

NoT MuCh, ChIcKaDeE. hAvEn’T HeArD FrOm yOu iN A WhIlE. yOu wAnNa cOmE By? I GoT SoMe rAd sHiT To sHoW YoU. sOmE Of iT’S PuRpLe, HaHaHaHa. YoU DoWn? :o) HoNk HoNk!

Vriska had put down her phone immediately after sending the message. There was absolutely no way she was going to stare at it and wait around for that asshole to text her back. In fact, she didn’t even care whether he did or not. Well, maybe she did a little. But she was bored and he had drugs. Actually seeing him was not the point!

She suddenly found a bunch of little things around her apartment to straighten or organize or tidy up. At one point, she even washed her dishes. If someone had asked, she would have insisted that she slaved for hours picking up the place, but in reality it was a little under thirty minutes and when she got back to her phone, she discovered Gamzee’s reply.

Vriska wrinkled her nose at his response. Company? Check. Weed? Check. Not having to go outside? Ehh. Going to visit him meant riding her bike all the way in the cold or paying for the subway and she wasn’t sure it was worth either of those things. She didn’t really like his place anyway. It was dirty and sketchy, even by her standards.

Sounds gr8. ::::)
8ut you live so far away and it’s so cold out! May8e you can stop 8y here????????

Inviting him over felt weird, but she didn’t see a way out that wasn’t cancelling entirely. She pocketed her phone and turned her attention back to her computer, looking for ways to kill time.

(Source: we8ofserkets)

Vriska sighed as and clicked aimlessly around the internet. She wasn’t working, there was nothing going on, and she wasn’t interested in anything in her apartment. She’d been sitting pretty much in the same place all day. She could have gone outside, but it was getting cold. She didn’t like the cold. It made her shaky and uncomfortable and she couldn’t stay out in for long periods of time without whining like a wriggler. There wasn’t anything worth going out there for. There wasn’t even anyone around for her to hang out with.

Well. She supposed that that wasn’t entirely true. But Gamzee? Of all people? The last time she saw him they spent way too much time together. She hadn’t even asked him for bud since then. But she hadn’t seen anyone else since then either.

Irritated with herself for entertaining the thought, Vriska put down her laptop and flopped over, her head hanging over the arm the slightly warn, deep blue couch upside down. Her huge tangled mess of hair brushed the floor beneath her while she talked to herself.

Nope. Nope nope nope. I am not that desper8. I am not that 8ored. He is not worth it.

She laid there staring at the wall for a few minutes until she started to get really dizzy and her grey skin flushed blue just a little bit. She righted herself and groaned as she reached for the phone, as if she was doing a chore she couldn’t get out of. She only hesitated a second before hitting send, if only to keep herself from backing out of it.

Hey, Makara. What’s up?

capriciousbard:

WhO wHaT nOw? StRiDeR hUmAn? I’vE hEaRd Of “HuMaN”, bUt WhAt’S a StRiDeR?

bUt HeY. iF mIsS sErKeT’s wIlLiNg tO gEt HeR dRiNk On WiTh ThIs BrO, i’M mOrE tHaN hApPy To HeLp HeR oUt.

BrInG yOuR oWn FaYgO! tHaT’lL dO tHe TrIcK.

Forget I asked. ::::(