UTTER GARBAGE.

[ihateyouetc]

WHAT: This is stupid.
WHO: This guy and any jerks if they decide to bust in.
WHEN: WHO CARES. HE'S ASLEEP ISN'T HE.
NOTE: Given the fact I'll likely add more dreams later, I'll be commenting to my own entry instead of pasting them in this main post every time. Reply with brackets; reply with prose; reply with a novel; reply with one line; make up something entirely ridiculous and unrelated -- do whatever. I can work with it.

1. ( EVEN IF BY SOME CHANCE I WAS, YOU CAN'T PROVE SHIT. )

2. ( WHAT POINT DO ALL THESE SERVE ANYWAY. SEEMS MEANINGFUL. CAN'T THINK OF WHY. )

Comments

may the lord bless you and keep you

[mirthy]

Poor, small, stupid motherfucker.

Knee settles on the arm he was holding to keep it pinned; Gamzee lets go of it with a reluctant twitch of the wrist. As though the contact were an intimacy he dislikes having to relinquish. Both hands settle on Karkat's temples, instead. Cradling his addled skull.

"The guy, bro. He's in here," Gamzee asserts. The statement is cheerful in its simplicity; punctuated by the press of his thumbs into the skin above each (furrowed, outraged) eyebrow. "It's all in your shitty little thoughtpan."

His thumbs press harder.

COULDN'T SLEEP SO HERE WE ARE. IMAGINE GOING LIMP LIKE A NOODLE CAT. THAT'S WHAT JUST HAPPENED HERE.

[ihateyouetc]

Terror and turmoil are interesting expressions on their own. Combining them in Karkat produces mixed results: they refuse to co-exist (should be easy but isn't) and aren't sure which should dominate. Their struggle is an even match, unlike the short-lived violent joke that landed him on his back, pinned beneath Gamzee. It's hard to breathe; like the capacity for it's been crushed from his chest.

"Wait-" A frantic, dizzy wisp of sound.

One arm may be restrained (somehow the knee hurts less) but the other's still free. (Why? Did he want to give some kind of illusion of freedom?)

Tentative, soft like submission, Karkat's palm curls over the back of one of Gamzee's (can't cover the whole thing; might never be able to) and squeezes; as if holding his hand more than resisting murder. "Wait," gentle, but clearer. "Gamzee, don't do this yet."

His eyelashes lower, like dimming lights.

If the request isn't honoured, that face isn't the last thing he wants to see before he dies.