you'll think of something, bro? AND WHAT ALL EXACTLY IS THERE TO BE THINKING ABOUT? you're hurting my feelings with this, motherfucker. ALL UP AND TRAMPLING ON MY MOTHERFUCKIN EMOTIONS.
[Karkat jumps to the side, away from the shot of magic science. He immediately curses for doing so -]
Fuck - !
[ - and then drops to his fighting stance. He refuses to pull up his strife deck and keeps his hands empty, using the stance only for the preparation of moving. Thank fuck my lusus was a fast motherfucker when he wanted to be, he couldn't help but thinking. The rest of him was screaming at him to get out the Clawsickle, the regisickle, HOMES SMELL YA LATER, the iron sickle - anything. What was he expecting to do without them? Was he going to win with fucking kindness?
Well... he didn't know. But most of his best plans started that way, right? A bona fide Troll Locke Lamora.]
[Gamzee giggled again at that, and the wand disappeared. He then did what Karkat wouldn't do and summoned the HOMES SMELL YA LATER sickle from his own deck.
Though he wears the largest, scariest smile on his face, he seethes on the inside. His eyes burn red.
That's - [Mine, right? But that wouldn't be at all helpful to say. But nevertheless the thought of being disembowled by the raddest sickle in his possession by his best frien d just made this fight take a turn for the motherfucking awful. Not that it wasn't already awful, of course.]
Trying to kill me with my own fucking weapons? Lame. [And then, with all the willpower in his possession, he takes a few steps forwards. He rises to a more assured stance as he goes, even if he legs feel like jelly, even if the contents of his stomach are trying to claw their way up his throat. He keeps his eyes fixed on him
( ... )
Even as Gamzee runs, memories flash by his eyes - of Bec Noir killing him on Prospit, of the Dullahan raising his spine-whip to slash him a bloody scar across his face, of Magatsu Izanagi crushing his arm, of Adachi shooting him in the neck...
... And then of Minako, eyes wide with terrified determination, and Ryu, face contorted with fear and rage, and the smirking of the Baobhan Sith as she slid her nails deep into his mutiliated throat and made him lunge forward to attack them.
He wasn't going to let that happen again. He wasn't going to die like some writhing wriggler before a culling blade.
As Gamzee's arm went up, Karkat's shot out. He clamped it to the side of the other Troll's face, fingers parted on either side of his ear, tips touching his hair. He could feel the greasy paint and the slickly smeared blood beneath his palm.
Fear froze his body and he couldn't move for a few seconds. To any onlooker, the tableau must have looked bizarrely hilarious.
[He freezes before the sickle can connect. The action is so unexpected. The crazed troll stares at Karkat with that same angry glare, but does nothing to remove the hand from his face.
It doesn't make any sense, really. The action was ridiculous and his best friend was still vulnerable. He could easily slice him open and spill out his insides. Use his head to restart his collection.
But he just can't.
Gamzee growls low in his throat, a sound that soon turns into an angry HONK, but doesn't move.]
He gently lifts his hand and pats the side of Gamzee's face, a little more assured by the lack of movement. When the honk comes, he just claps down on him a little more firmly.]
[He moves his other hand up and rubs the top of his head through his hair. He continues to pat the side of his face, bolstered by the way Gamzee was slowly sedating. It was almost funny, in a way, and if he wasn't so damn relieved he might have sniggered at the situation.]
Shhhhh... shoooooooosh....
[He stroked his hair and stood a little closer to him.]
[Gamzee makes a sound not unlike a whimper. Some part of him is still saying this is incredibly silly, but he doesn't care.
This is an offer Karkat is making now. He hasn't said anything verbally, but there's a certain understanding that happens between two trolls in a situation like this. The sickle drops from his loose grasp and he brings both hands up to grasp at the other troll's shirt in a not at all threatening manner.]
[Karkat knows it too, and when Gamzee grasps his shirt like that, he moves the hand from his hair and loops his arm around the other troll's shoulders. He continues to pat him with his other hand.
[Moirallegiance. Unspoken but there. Karkat feels a bit daunted by it - he's always imagined (or rather, feared) that he'd be a bad moirail. Too high maintence, too difficult to be around, not enough focus on the other person... but with Gamzee... he'll try. Even if it's hard.
His grip grows a little tighter.]
You're damn fucking right you're sorry, you moron. Do you know how fucking worried I was?
[Or maybe he had. Some part of him had wanted this from the start, angering when others were sent in the place of his best friend, distraught when there was no one to help him make sense of all the confusing thoughts running through his mind.]
AND WHAT ALL EXACTLY IS THERE TO BE THINKING ABOUT?
you're hurting my feelings with this, motherfucker.
ALL UP AND TRAMPLING ON MY MOTHERFUCKIN EMOTIONS.
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Fuck - !
[ - and then drops to his fighting stance. He refuses to pull up his strife deck and keeps his hands empty, using the stance only for the preparation of moving. Thank fuck my lusus was a fast motherfucker when he wanted to be, he couldn't help but thinking. The rest of him was screaming at him to get out the Clawsickle, the regisickle, HOMES SMELL YA LATER, the iron sickle - anything. What was he expecting to do without them? Was he going to win with fucking kindness?
Well... he didn't know. But most of his best plans started that way, right? A bona fide Troll Locke Lamora.]
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Though he wears the largest, scariest smile on his face, he seethes on the inside. His eyes burn red.
His best friend has brought this upon himself.]
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Trying to kill me with my own fucking weapons? Lame. [And then, with all the willpower in his possession, he takes a few steps forwards. He rises to a more assured stance as he goes, even if he legs feel like jelly, even if the contents of his stomach are trying to claw their way up his throat. He keeps his eyes fixed on him ( ... )
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So he does.
There's no caution to Gamzee's movements at all. He doesn't flash-step, however. He closes the distance between them at a normal run, sickle raised.
He stops when he reaches Karkat only long enough to swing the weapon up...]
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Even as Gamzee runs, memories flash by his eyes - of Bec Noir killing him on Prospit, of the Dullahan raising his spine-whip to slash him a bloody scar across his face, of Magatsu Izanagi crushing his arm, of Adachi shooting him in the neck...
... And then of Minako, eyes wide with terrified determination, and Ryu, face contorted with fear and rage, and the smirking of the Baobhan Sith as she slid her nails deep into his mutiliated throat and made him lunge forward to attack them.
He wasn't going to let that happen again. He wasn't going to die like some writhing wriggler before a culling blade.
As Gamzee's arm went up, Karkat's shot out. He clamped it to the side of the other Troll's face, fingers parted on either side of his ear, tips touching his hair. He could feel the greasy paint and the slickly smeared blood beneath his palm.
Fear froze his body and he couldn't move for a few seconds. To any onlooker, the tableau must have looked bizarrely hilarious.
Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck what ( ... )
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It doesn't make any sense, really. The action was ridiculous and his best friend was still vulnerable. He could easily slice him open and spill out his insides. Use his head to restart his collection.
But he just can't.
Gamzee growls low in his throat, a sound that soon turns into an angry HONK, but doesn't move.]
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He gently lifts his hand and pats the side of Gamzee's face, a little more assured by the lack of movement. When the honk comes, he just claps down on him a little more firmly.]
Shooooooshhh...
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He can't think of anything to say, angry or otherwise, so he just honks again. He likes the physical contact too much to want to risk losing it.]
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Shhhhh... shoooooooosh....
[He stroked his hair and stood a little closer to him.]
Shoooooooooooosh...
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This is an offer Karkat is making now. He hasn't said anything verbally, but there's a certain understanding that happens between two trolls in a situation like this. The sickle drops from his loose grasp and he brings both hands up to grasp at the other troll's shirt in a not at all threatening manner.]
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Tentatively, a smile creeps onto his face.]
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Defeat, then. Karkat's won this, though he's gotten a whole new burden out of it, depending on how one looks at it.]
...Sorry.
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His grip grows a little tighter.]
You're damn fucking right you're sorry, you moron. Do you know how fucking worried I was?
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[Or maybe he had. Some part of him had wanted this from the start, angering when others were sent in the place of his best friend, distraught when there was no one to help him make sense of all the confusing thoughts running through his mind.]
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