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thoughtformed2013-06-19 07:09 pm
hypertoxic) wrote in thoughtformed2013-06-19 07:09 pm
Entry tags:
closed log. rated F for FUCKING LANGUAGE.
Who: Karkat and Vriska. Potentially with cameos by Dave, John, and their school lunch burritos. And pudding cups.
What: It's been about a week since Vriska's midnight channel, and Karkat makes an ill-timed remark. It goes over poorly.
When: Some days after this. BACKDATING IS FOR AWESOME PEOPLE.
Where: The school cafeteria. AND THEN THE ROOF.
Why: Because screamy assholes need to shriek at each other until they feel better and also realize they were fighting over precisely nothing.
[ It was not exactly an easy decision for Vriska to waltz back into school once she'd recovered from her ordeal enough to do so. It wasn't that she was embarrassed by what had happened, so much. To be embarrassed would imply she had any shame left to feel, that such an emotion hadn't been burned from her entirely in the fires of immense public scrutiny and, to her chagrin, pity. No, there was no shame in her now. All her fucks had been taken and she had none left to give.
But there was an emotional rawness, a burn on her pride and her bearing that was still slow-oozing and refusing to heal. It hurt to be ripped open in front of everyone you care about, everyone you've tried so hard to impress. It hurt to learn, at the same time as mostly everyone else, that you were in love with your very taken moirail and best friend. It hurt to be brought so low and it hurt to know you were the reason your friends all had to risk their lives. It hurt in a much different way to know that they were willing to take that risk even after seeing what they saw, knowing what they knew about you now. That was a gentler hurt, but far deeper, too.
She's kept her chin up. She is proud. She is Vriska Serket. She bows for no one, not even herself.
But she can be forgiven if she's a bit tetchy as she sulks her way into the cafeteria that day at lunch, right? Forgiven a bit of, perhaps, overreactive tendencies that might lead her to take even the most innocent comment far, far, far too personally.
Sulk sulk grumble over her tray of human grub as she slouches her way to a table. ]
What: It's been about a week since Vriska's midnight channel, and Karkat makes an ill-timed remark. It goes over poorly.
When: Some days after this. BACKDATING IS FOR AWESOME PEOPLE.
Where: The school cafeteria. AND THEN THE ROOF.
Why: Because screamy assholes need to shriek at each other until they feel better and also realize they were fighting over precisely nothing.
[ It was not exactly an easy decision for Vriska to waltz back into school once she'd recovered from her ordeal enough to do so. It wasn't that she was embarrassed by what had happened, so much. To be embarrassed would imply she had any shame left to feel, that such an emotion hadn't been burned from her entirely in the fires of immense public scrutiny and, to her chagrin, pity. No, there was no shame in her now. All her fucks had been taken and she had none left to give.
But there was an emotional rawness, a burn on her pride and her bearing that was still slow-oozing and refusing to heal. It hurt to be ripped open in front of everyone you care about, everyone you've tried so hard to impress. It hurt to learn, at the same time as mostly everyone else, that you were in love with your very taken moirail and best friend. It hurt to be brought so low and it hurt to know you were the reason your friends all had to risk their lives. It hurt in a much different way to know that they were willing to take that risk even after seeing what they saw, knowing what they knew about you now. That was a gentler hurt, but far deeper, too.
She's kept her chin up. She is proud. She is Vriska Serket. She bows for no one, not even herself.
But she can be forgiven if she's a bit tetchy as she sulks her way into the cafeteria that day at lunch, right? Forgiven a bit of, perhaps, overreactive tendencies that might lead her to take even the most innocent comment far, far, far too personally.
Sulk sulk grumble over her tray of human grub as she slouches her way to a table. ]
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Who cares.
Who gives a shit about the embarrassment caused by having your mental breakdown televised for all of who-the-fuck-knows? Especially since most of those things wouldn't be secrets to a blind girl, let alone anyone who bothered to pay attention to anyone around them.
So what if her friends are willing to take risks to help her?
Who cares! Why get all fixated and focused on that?
It's much more important to keep things in perspective; to perceive things properly with your mind and also your eyes. ]
Is that Vriska?
[ Which is exactly what Karkat is doing when he says that out loud, like there's anyone else it could possibly be; like there are all kinds of girls who look just like Vriska in the schoolhive all moping around with fussy faces.
He's already at a table, seated with some idiots of no immediate consequence who deserve no further mention. He doesn't say "exuse me" or "hold on" or even "stop talking for a second" and opts instead to ignore them in favor of doing what he does next: ]
Hey!
[ Which is to say, yelling. ]
Vriska! Where the hell are you going?
[ Yelling and standing, if we're being accurate. ]
Just come over here.
[ Seriously, some other humans might just stare at her like she has eight eyes -- which she had at one time but she doesn't anymore? Like, considering she basically has no eyes at all? That's still kind of creepy to think about, if you actually think about it.
Yeah, honestly, he'd probably stare too if he wasn't used to it. ]
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People like Vriska. She pauses when she hears him shout, just a few feet short of the table John and Dave have claimed. They and they alone are treated to the way she just shuts her eyes and seems to mentally count to three before sighing hugely. Then she sets her tray down, gives them both a warning look -- eat anything off this tray and I'll make you sleep through every single one of the rest of your classes today, it seems to say -- then turns so she can lean against the table and give Karkat a flat stare from a distance. ]
What the hell do you want, Vantas?
[ Not going over there. And also shouting. She's not in the mood for anyone's stupidity. Not even the stupidity of someone her true emotions manipulated and turned against--
Well. Not a worthy train of thought. ]
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The corner of Karkat's mouth curls and his nose wrinkles just slightly like a dumb dog when he sneers at her. He doesn't answer her by shouting back because he's got something more important to do: skulk across the floor like a blemish on the lunchroom.
When he's closer to her, he speaks in a flat dead tone: ]
You're in my fucking spot.
[ She isn't, actually, but it seems like a good thing to say.
If he was sitting there first then why did he try to call her over somewhere else anyway? Was he going to try to lead her around like some barkbeast on a chain?
Probably.
In his defense, it wouldn't have been on purpose.
Such is life when you aren't very good at thinking things. ]
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Or, on the other hand, he absolutely could be, because even Karkat has boundaries, beyond which are the foggy and unexplored lands of What's This Bullshit I Don't Have Time To Think About.
At least they're not shouting anymore. Ah. The third tray she hadn't really paid much mind to. She glances over her shoulder, then across at him again, sardonic and already exasperated. ]
I'm not sure which one you deserve more. Finders keepers, or if you want it so bad, come back and take it from me! Seriously, what the hell is your problem? I'd ask if you were stupid, but I already know the answer to that. Maybe brain dead? [ Casually, like she's speculating on the weather. ] Why don't you do literally everyone a favor and stop fucking talking.
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What do you mean, what the hell is my problem? What the hell is your problem. You totally just ignored me and then shouted at me from across the whole god damn block! [ This isn't hypocrisy. This is something else.
If his expression can be told like a weather forecast, it's annoyed with 98% chance of aggravation to the point of pulsing anger, but no matter what it reads it promises to be polluted by a haze of fuss.
He doesn't try to take it from her, but what happens is arguably worse: he sits across from her and stares. ]
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[ RRRRRRRrrrgggghhhghghghrhrhghrhghghrhrhg briefly buries her face in her hands
why does she know him why is he bothering her
actually that's a great question let's ask it ]
Seriously, what do you want. [ Very flat. ] Why are we even having this conversation right now. Actually, better question. What the fuck are you staring at, asshole!
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[ That's as good of a concession as she's going to get. ]
But I'm not fucking staring at you! [ Well, technically he was. ] Why do you think I'd stare at you? Do you think I'm just waiting for you to come around so I can turn my ganderbulbs on your visage and gape at you? I'm looking at you since that's what you do when you talk to people. You fucking look at them. Or are you not even looking at me right now? I can't tell! [ Yeah, that's going to go over well.
Whatever his problem is, Karkat's brows furrow. The left corner of his mouth twitches and the irritation lightens just long enough for anyone looking at his face to see confusion flicker behind his eyes, like they were only windows to a vast ocean of rage inside his head and sometimes some emotion floats by like driftwood or debris from structures that might have once been impressive, but somewhere along the way got completely wrecked. ]
Huh.
[ What was he going to say to her again? He had something else, but... ]
Dammit, hold on. I need to think about this.
[ And back to the irritation. ]
You made me forget what I was going to say to you in the first place.
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She slams the heel of her palm down on the table hard enough to make trays jump and drinks spill and half rises out of her seat. The look on her face is one of real, actual rage, a snarl as dark as tar and a promise of coming thunder.
Then all at once she just sits back down again, bracing her cheekbones on the heels of her palms so she can thread her fingers into her hair. ]
Yeah. Right. Okay. Let's mock the dead girl about her creepy fucking eyes. You're a real gentleman, Vantas. Is this how you flirt with everyone you're oh so obviously interested in?
[ It's a mean comment, with John right there and everyone present painfully aware of the tangled romantic feelings going on. It makes her feel a little bad, but not bad enough to do anything at all about it. All she does is glance up at him balefully, like maybe somehow the force of her glare can make him spontaneously combust and end this inane, pathetic excuse for a conversation. ]
Fuck off, Karkat. I don't need your shit today.
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Seriously, look at that asshole. He doesn't give one lonely fuck. ]
Oh! [ Karkat's tone takes a jump for the faux-flippant. ] Okay, great, since we've settled that that's how you want to do this, that's how we'll do this! Real fucking mature, Vriska. Yes, let's talk with reckless abandon about how I choose to pursue my romantic interests! And just for the record here, I'd rather fucking die than consider applying that term to you. [ There's someone else here just as mature as Vriska. (Three someones if we're technical.) It's here his eyes widen and his expression is about as vacantly dumb as John's. ] Oh man, I forgot to wildly slap my appendages around like the flagrant abuse of inanimate objects is going to make me feel better about the fact someone's giving me shit for ignoring them -- which I could've avoided, by the way, but I didn't!
[ In retaliation, he half-rises out of his seat when he slams both his hands on the table, oblivious to whatever effects that causes as his mouth curls in another sneer. (It won't be the last.)
TOP THAT YOU COLD CLAMMY BITCH. COLD AND CLAMMY BECAUSE YOU'RE DEAD. DEAD GIRL JOKES. GET IT. HOT DAMN, NOW WE'RE COOKING WITH EMBALMING FLUID! IF BY "COOKING" WE MEAN "INFUSING" BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HUMANS DO WITH DEAD BODIES I GUESS? WHATEVER, WHO EVEN CARES. ]
What a fucking shocker. I don't need your eight-ullshit either but here I am, drowning in it as per usual!
[ So far he hasn't noticed Dave's hungry hands or his thirsty mouth. Small miracles. ]
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Yes. She starts to growl. Trolls can do that. That sure is a thing trolls can do. And she is very angry, gripping the table so hard her knuckles turn white. But then he finishes talking, and after a moment's consideration, she falls quiet.
If she had such a thing on her person, and were she the type to say it, this is when she would say Baby, hold my flower, hand that shit off to John (or Dave, either boy would work, really), and go the fuck to town.
But as it stands, she does not have a flower. So she pushes to her feet, palms flat on the table, expression schooled into complete impassivity. Which, for anyone who knows her, and all three boys at this table do, is an even worse sign than her open rage of three seconds ago. Because it means she is thinking. Not a thoughtful sort of think. Not an unhappy sort of think. This is the kind of think one undertakes when one is planning the absolute most brutal murder anyone has ever seen for about a thousand fucking goddamn years. ]
Do I even need to remind you, [ she starts, voice low and strangely even, ] that you started this? That you're the one that called me out? I mean, where the fuck else would I get the totally bizarre and honestly stupid idea that you, for some insane reason, wanted to talk to me? You want to talk about maturity, Karkat?
[ And then she moves. They're all pretty battle hardened, and both Dave and John could probably do this faster than she currently is by virtue of their respective powers. But she is certainly faster than Karkat, and she takes advantage of that knowledge by vaulting over the table and grabbing him roughly. Very roughly.
(Yeah, guess who doesn't give one single fuck about her food anymore. Have at it, boys.) ]
Then why don't we take this somewhere else! Like mature people! And have a nice mature talk while I debate breaking your fucking head in!
[ On somewhere she flashes into her god tier pj's, blue fairy wings on full display. And they flutter and twitch with her high aggravation.
Really. Nothing good has ever come of provoking Vriska Serket. ]
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But this is Vriska.
His expression is as lively as a dead girl's when she grabs him, provided the dead girl in question is wearing a flat dead stare. Even her flashy display can't take that away from him long, robbing it just long enough to force a wince. For less than a second, there's too much light: his pupils shrink to the length and width of something a little more oval and cat-like than the perfectly-round-but-pin-point pupils that humans have.
Two things are obvious. First: ] You're not going to do shit other than rub the fact you're God Tier all over my embarrassingly inferior visage. Excellent! You proved that point -- I'm not. Not like I didn't already know about my utter failure to ascend to the highly esteemed ranks of Somebody Who's Actually Good At Something, but that's cool!
[ And second: he hadn't attempted to move.
At least until this moment. He lifts a hand to curl it around one of her wrists, but he also doesn't try to remove it. It's more of a useless security gesture -- like, say, in case someone's hands decide to get any funny ideas and make an attempt at choking him out even if she could do it if she really wanted to anyway. ]
Why are you even here?
[ She isn't the only one who can talk in a low voice. ]
You should be in your ineffective and uncomfortable human bed, taking a god damn break, and not forcing yourself back into this schoolhive shitfest to prove whatever dumbass point you're trying to make that doesn't actually need to be made.
[ AND SPEAK FOR YOURSELF. HE STILL WANTS THAT FOOD EVENTUALLY. ]
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All bark, no bite. When did that become who she is? When did everyone stop being scared of her and what she could do? Times were, if she threatened someone like this, everyone would freak out because, oh shit, Vriska's about to do something terrible!
(It changed when it became as clear to everyone else as it always was to her that she wanted to do the right thing. And now that she's being taught what the right thing is, she's been doing it more and more often.)
At least he flinched.
She doesn't respond to his dig, because that's rote banter they're basically both expecting at this point. It's his quiet comment that gets her to shift and frown, softly. Plus the way he grips her wrist. It's a familiar gesture. It's the same thing she did to Aradia when Aradia beat her almost to death. Karkat will be unaware of the parellel, but it isn't lost on her, and makes her feel even worse. ]
I'm fine. [ She says so softly probably only he can hear it. But now, after jumping over the fucking table and manhandling him and-- christ, Dave and John aren't even paying attention. Karkat isn't the one here behaving like a wiggler. (Well. He did start it.)
Suddenly too self-conscious to stay here even another second, Vriska frowns more sharply, lets go of Karkat--
Then bends her knees, grabs him around the middle, hefts him over her shoulder, and pushes up into the air. To John: ]
I am borrowing your dumbfuck boyfriend. I will try to return him in good condition. No promises, though! [ A beat, and to Dave: ] And yes, Dave, you can have my lunch. Thanks for being so considerate and asking, because I might have actually given a shit about that!
[ With that, departs. Karkat can protest all he wants. As long as he doesn't do anything to make her drop him, they will probably make it to the roof more or less intact.
WHATEVER KARKAT. YOU'RE NOT ACTUALLY GETTING BACK TO YOUR SHITTY HUMAN LUNCH FOOD. ]
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Oh she's got Karkat over her shoulder like an angry sack of flour.
Blink. ]
Well, okay. You break it, you buy it.
[ Have fun you crazy kids, poppop's got a burrito to steal ]
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Reappears in his seat, chill as anything.]
Welc.
[Chomps on it. THIS BURRITO HAS BEEN MARKED NOW. CLAIMED BY HIS MOUTH GERMS. With his mouth full, he adds:]
Later, Karkat.
Splitting this off here
Dave, sipping his apple juice with an ironic bendy straw, looks up to return Vriska's warning glare with a carefully crafted stare of bland disinterest. He doesn't even understand what you are insinuating, Miss Serket. In fact, he cares so little about the undefended food that he even turns around in his seat to watch the show.
He leans back casually, slurping the dregs of his apple juice up his straw, and rests his elbow on the table. This, very coincidentally, puts his hand relatively near Vriska's abandoned, sad, lonely lunch.
Oh who are we kidding.
It's burrito day.
Her lunch is as good as gone.]
YOU ASSHOLES.
You fuckers. Don't eat everything while Karkat's away talking to other people about very important things!! ]
pretty much
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mommy's babies want their yumyums ]
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But yeah fuck that shit.
Dave soooooo casually stretches his other arm out towards Karkat's lunch, making it somehow look completely nonchalant despite it being at a really weird and awkward angle behind him.
The imaginary double-jointed contortionist Bro once told him was his mother would be so proud.]
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You know, to steady them, since those assholes keep pounding the table like they're video game lawyers or something.]
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Don't think he doesn't see you inching toward Karkat's food, Dave. Because he does. ]
What do you think burritos would taste like if they were filled with clouds?
[ And he's going to match your inching. That burrito will be his. John is pretty sure he's legally entitled to half of Karkat's belongings, or something like that. ]
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[He actually takes a moment from his inching to give the matter the serious thought it deserves.]
Maybe like. A mix of cold water and cream, four parts to one. But only on the inside of the tortilla.
[Only then does he notice John's movement towards the food and he just kind of slides down further in its direction. Paint him like one of your French trolls, John.]
But that would be a sinful thing to do to a perfectly innocent young plate of Mexican food. You are a shame and you should be ashamed.
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[ Heh. Heheh. Heheheheheheheh whoa hey someone's jumping over the table to almost tackle somebody else. Man, what are they fighting about? Do they even know what they're fighting about? Whatever. More importantly, just gonna casually grab the burrito and start dragging it closer to him. ]
What did one chip say to the other chip during a fight?
[ QUICK, APPLICABLE JOKE DIVERSION ]
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[Dave's hand lands on the other end of Karkat's burrito--hahahaha that sounds like a bad euphemism, is there Mexican food-themed Homestuck porn, I bet there is--the second John starts pulling it away.]
Didn't your nanna teach you that stealing is wrong.
[Without lifting his gaze from John's duplicitous face, he slowly takes another bite of the burrito Vriska left--nay--bequeathed him.]
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You boys just take their food. Surely their physical confrontation that seems like it could turn violent needs no interference or intervention whatsoever and priority number one here is burritos. Filled with clouds.
Carry on. ]
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