Okay, here's the Deal. I will tell you where the nearest Kitchen is if you answer one Question for me.
How. The fuck. Do you write like that? And I don't mean with the whole alternating Capitals thing. I mean how do you change the Letters to a different Script and Colour?
UuUuH, a BrOtHeR wOuLd Up AnD gEt HiS mIrTh On To TeLl ThAt At YoU. bUt I oNlY kNoW hOw To SeT mY oWn CoLoR aNd ExPlAiNiNg GeTs Me AlL FlIpPeD tUrNwIsE uP iN mY ThInKpAn. :o( I cOuLd Up AnD mOtHeRfUcKiN sHoW yOu InStEaD, mAyBe.
{{ Uuuuh, a brother would up and get his mirth on to tell that at you. But I only know how to set my own color and explaining gets me all flipped turnwise up in my thinkpan. :o( I could up and motherfucking show you instead, maybe. }}
WhY nOt Be Up AnD tElLiNg At Me WhErE tHe MoThErFuCkIn KitChEn Be At? i CaN pUt My ShOw On FoR yOu, BrOtHeR, wHiLe SoMe PiE gEtS iTsElF nIcE aNd BaKeD. AnD tHeN wHeN wE'rE dOnE tHeRe WiLl Be FrEsH pIe.
{{Why not be up and telling at me where the motherfucking kitchen be at? I can put my show on for you, brother, while some pie gets itself nice and baked. And then when we're done there will be fresh pie.}}
A bRoThEr CaN uP aNd FiNd HiS wAy To ThE StAiRs. sHiT, i'Ll Up AnD gO tHeRe RiGhT nOw.
{{A brother can up and find his way to the stairs. Shit I'll up and go there right now.}}
[And go he does. He somehow manages to get turned around and space out for a while, but he arrives at the stairwell with a plastic cup full of neon green slime. He's tall for a 13 year old, rail-thin, and is wearing smeared clown makeup.]
He's leaning against the wall, waiting for Gamzee. Not that he even knows who to look for, but he's assuming based off the fact that he hasn't seen anyone else type exactly that way that he's waiting on someone new. Add in the fact that the only others with weird typing are those other two kids what call themselves trolls -something that yet makes him snort, as trolls where and when he's from are nothing like these kids- and he's at least certain he should be looking for some grey skinned brat with horns.
Still, when he spots Gamzee, he can't help but quirk an eyebrow. Clown makeup. Okay then. He pushes away from the wall, and heads over. Please do not mind the exceedingly pale man staring down at you with blood-red eyes. He won't remain quiet for long. "I'm gonna assume you're the one looking for the kitchen, then? What the fuck is that shit?" He points to the cup of... is that slime? What the fuck? It's so bright he'd swear it's glowing.
Gamzee is indeed a gray-skinned brat with horns, and his smile is vacant but friendly. He blinks up at the stranger for near a full minute before he finally speaks. His voice flutters up and down in pitch along a scale. It'd almost be musical if he could hold a melodic line at all and didn't go horribly flat every few notes. "Whooooa, motherfucker. That's some fucking intense red you've got up coloring those lookstubs. Motherfucking beautiful, brother!"
He pauses, fumbles around with the cup to avoid dropping it, and shuffles forward. "And that's me. Up and wanting to get my bake on in the motherfucking kitchen with this slime I up and scooped up. Enough for the most tasty pie a motherfucker's had in hours and hours."
[Action Forever!]gewehrundblutDecember 29 2011, 05:23:42 UTC
That comment makes him snort, rolling said fucking intense red lookstubs. "Ja, ja, if you say so, brat. Guess it's better than 'What kind of freak has blood coloured eyes?!' or some bullshit like that." Which, okay, isn't even the worst comment he has gotten in his centuries of life over his appearance; damn superstitious humans.
"...And I don't even want to know how you're gonna make a pie outta that, but come on. I've got to see this." He makes a beckoning motion before executing a sharp about face, coat skirt flapping behind him, and marching up the stairs and towards the rather large hole in the wall between the two sections. When they get there, he gives Gamzee a warning to watch his step, before heading through said hole.
And, hey, flat isn't so bad, voice wise. Better than a bit raspy and hoarse, like he has a perpetual sore throat, right?
"What kind of adult don't be kicking blood colored eyes? You saying you pink motherfuckers don't got eyes that fill in with your color when you get your growth on?" Gamzee had heard that humans had bright, bright red blood like Karkat, of course, but he's never seen it in person before so it's impressive. And pretty, so he can't help but stare a little bit, at least until he needs to hurry to catch up.
He ambles along behind, and in spite of obviously being high as fuck, isn't ungraceful so he manages the hole without any problems. "Same way a motherfucker'd make a pie out of anything, of course. Make a crust, mix that shit all up together good, pour it in and bake that motherfucker for a while."
"Nope. Most human babies start off with blue or grey eyes and then sometimes they change colour when the kid grows. Usually by the time they're walking and shit their eyes are the colour they're gonna be for the rest of their lives, so like brown or hazel or green if they do change. It's really fucking weird for us to have red eyes." Alas, that he isn't from about two centuries later, otherwise he might actually be able to explain why that is. As it is, he's got no fucking clue how any of that works. "Usually comes with being really pale though, so I guess that's got some shit to do with it. Thank God there's no actual sun in this place; I'd burn to death if there were
( ... )
"I don't motherfucking know. Ain't sunlight up in here but the light up and stings at my lookstubs being all too bright at me. A brother be getting his adjustment on, but it ain't motherfucking comfortable right now." It's probably good that he can barely keep his eyes open, otherwise he'd be more uncomfortable, but Gamzee doesn't think that through, and instead focuses on the beautiful kitchen.
"Sopor ain't no poison for trolls! Dunno about you motherfuckers. The only way to find out is to up and try a motherfucking bite." He says that offhandedly though, as he bangs through cupboards and drawers to find what he needs. He mixes shit up fast, obviously with a lot of practice. The recipe is really just a basic custard pie, but with slime instead of pumpkin or whatever.
"Riiiight. Maybe I'll try to bribe the Medic into telling me what that shit'll do to me first before getting hasty. I'd rather not die again anytime soon, thanks." He hops up onto a bit of free counterspace to sit, boots thunking against the cabinets beneath him. "So, whenever you're done getting that in the oven, you're gonna show me that text shit, right?"
He finishes it up and puts it in the oven to bake, before giving in and licking the filling off his fingers. And then the spoon. His addiction takes precedence over most other things right now.
But there isn't that much to lick up, so his attention drifts back. He struggles visibly with trying to remember what was said, but then nods. "Oh right. I motherfucking up and forgot. Let me get my typing on and show a brother."
And...then he promptly sits (falls) down to brace against the counter and spaces out for several minutes with no amount of shouting or movement able to rouse him. Sopor's kicking in, yeah.
He sits and waits for a few minutes, wondering when he's going to get his lesson in typing. Waiting. Waaaaiiiiting. Still waiting. Okay, he's losing patience and the damn trollbrat is still just sitting there. With an annoyed growl he hops off the counter and goes over there to start shaking him.
It's not stupid--no, wait, yes, yes it is. But he does rouse after some sustained shaking, looking way out of it, but cheerful. "Whoaaaaa, it's all quaking and shaking up in here. Why's my brother getting his violence on up at me?"
How. The fuck. Do you write like that? And I don't mean with the whole alternating Capitals thing. I mean how do you change the Letters to a different Script and Colour?
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bUt I oNlY kNoW hOw To SeT mY oWn CoLoR aNd ExPlAiNiNg GeTs Me AlL FlIpPeD tUrNwIsE uP iN mY ThInKpAn. :o(
I cOuLd Up AnD mOtHeRfUcKiN sHoW yOu InStEaD, mAyBe.
{{ Uuuuh, a brother would up and get his mirth on to tell that at you. But I only know how to set my own color and explaining gets me all flipped turnwise up in my thinkpan. :o( I could up and motherfucking show you instead, maybe. }}
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i CaN pUt My ShOw On FoR yOu, BrOtHeR, wHiLe SoMe PiE gEtS iTsElF nIcE aNd BaKeD.
AnD tHeN wHeN wE'rE dOnE tHeRe WiLl Be FrEsH pIe.
{{Why not be up and telling at me where the motherfucking kitchen be at? I can put my show on for you, brother, while some pie gets itself nice and baked. And then when we're done there will be fresh pie.}}
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sHiT, i'Ll Up AnD gO tHeRe RiGhT nOw.
{{A brother can up and find his way to the stairs. Shit I'll up and go there right now.}}
[And go he does. He somehow manages to get turned around and space out for a while, but he arrives at the stairwell with a plastic cup full of neon green slime. He's tall for a 13 year old, rail-thin, and is wearing smeared clown makeup.]
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Still, when he spots Gamzee, he can't help but quirk an eyebrow. Clown makeup. Okay then. He pushes away from the wall, and heads over. Please do not mind the exceedingly pale man staring down at you with blood-red eyes. He won't remain quiet for long. "I'm gonna assume you're the one looking for the kitchen, then? What the fuck is that shit?" He points to the cup of... is that slime? What the fuck? It's so bright he'd swear it's glowing.
Reply
He pauses, fumbles around with the cup to avoid dropping it, and shuffles forward. "And that's me. Up and wanting to get my bake on in the motherfucking kitchen with this slime I up and scooped up. Enough for the most tasty pie a motherfucker's had in hours and hours."
Reply
"...And I don't even want to know how you're gonna make a pie outta that, but come on. I've got to see this." He makes a beckoning motion before executing a sharp about face, coat skirt flapping behind him, and marching up the stairs and towards the rather large hole in the wall between the two sections. When they get there, he gives Gamzee a warning to watch his step, before heading through said hole.
And, hey, flat isn't so bad, voice wise. Better than a bit raspy and hoarse, like he has a perpetual sore throat, right?
Reply
He ambles along behind, and in spite of obviously being high as fuck, isn't ungraceful so he manages the hole without any problems. "Same way a motherfucker'd make a pie out of anything, of course. Make a crust, mix that shit all up together good, pour it in and bake that motherfucker for a while."
Reply
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"Sopor ain't no poison for trolls! Dunno about you motherfuckers. The only way to find out is to up and try a motherfucking bite." He says that offhandedly though, as he bangs through cupboards and drawers to find what he needs. He mixes shit up fast, obviously with a lot of practice. The recipe is really just a basic custard pie, but with slime instead of pumpkin or whatever.
Reply
Reply
But there isn't that much to lick up, so his attention drifts back. He struggles visibly with trying to remember what was said, but then nods. "Oh right. I motherfucking up and forgot. Let me get my typing on and show a brother."
And...then he promptly sits (falls) down to brace against the counter and spaces out for several minutes with no amount of shouting or movement able to rouse him. Sopor's kicking in, yeah.
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"Hey. Hey! Brat! Wake up, damn it!"
This. Is. STUPID.
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