Karkat Vantas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cancerthatiskillingrp) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
holyrelic2012-06-18 10:07 pm
cancerthatiskillingrp) wrote in holyrelic2012-06-18 10:07 pm
Entry tags:
♋ one ♋
[ There is a trick to dealing with temporal displacement, or whatever the fuck you call it when you were in one place and suddenly wake up in another. That's generally not to panic while putting on your thinking cap and figuring out what the heck happened, or you know, calmly asking those around you for help. Unfortunately, Karkat doesn't really do calm or rational when shit goes wrong.
Probably because sleep isn't a luxury afforded to Karkat on the best of days, even before Jack's destruction of Prospit and Derse. He'd spent the entire SGRUB campaign awake, not once taking a break to get some much needed rest. He probably wouldn't have even slept afterwards, had Kanaya, Tavros, Equius and the others not had a lapse of sanity so grand (debatable, since he doubted any of them had two working brain cells to rub together most days) that clearly the solution to enabling Tavros to walk again was to chainsaw the lower half of his body off and grant him a pair of robolegs, all while he was standing innocently by. Unprepared for the flood of orange-brown blood coming his way.
Fucking idiots, the lot of them. It had been a wonder any of them had survived their time in the game, one of Gamzee's retarded miracles that would remain unexplained. It still hadn't been enough to save them. He hadn't done enough.
Needless to say, waking up with a group of unfamiliar, unconscious bodies in a room he'd never seen before was a blaring exhortation horn to his think pan that something had gone horribly, inexplicably wrong. Well, wronger than things were previously. He takes deep, gasping breaths in a useless attempt to keep his cool, deciding to abandon the not-quite-corpse party and head for the outdoors. Looks he's making an effort to harass the first person he sees that will give him the time of day.
Poor you. ]
HEY, YOU. YES, YOU, THE SLACK JAWED, DROOLING BUFFOON I'M CURRENTLY POINTING MY CLAWED, TACTILE APPENDAGE AT.
YOU.
YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK WE'RE DOING HERE, WHY WE'RE IN THESE RIDICULOUS OUTFITS, AND WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO EVERY LAST ONE OF MY BARELY TOLERABLE FORCED TRAVELING COMPANIONS OR I'M GOING TO FLIP MY SHIT. I WILL FLIP MY SHIT SO WELL AND SO LONG THAT IT WILL BE CHARRED TO A GRILLED PERFECTION, AND JUST WHEN YOU THINK IT CAN'T POSSIBLY GET ANY BETTER, I WILL COVER IT WITH THE MAYO OF EXQUISITE BATSHITTERY AND FORCE IT DOWN YOUR GAPING FEED CHUTE-
[ Any time you wanna cut in would be good. ]
Probably because sleep isn't a luxury afforded to Karkat on the best of days, even before Jack's destruction of Prospit and Derse. He'd spent the entire SGRUB campaign awake, not once taking a break to get some much needed rest. He probably wouldn't have even slept afterwards, had Kanaya, Tavros, Equius and the others not had a lapse of sanity so grand (debatable, since he doubted any of them had two working brain cells to rub together most days) that clearly the solution to enabling Tavros to walk again was to chainsaw the lower half of his body off and grant him a pair of robolegs, all while he was standing innocently by. Unprepared for the flood of orange-brown blood coming his way.
Fucking idiots, the lot of them. It had been a wonder any of them had survived their time in the game, one of Gamzee's retarded miracles that would remain unexplained. It still hadn't been enough to save them. He hadn't done enough.
Needless to say, waking up with a group of unfamiliar, unconscious bodies in a room he'd never seen before was a blaring exhortation horn to his think pan that something had gone horribly, inexplicably wrong. Well, wronger than things were previously. He takes deep, gasping breaths in a useless attempt to keep his cool, deciding to abandon the not-quite-corpse party and head for the outdoors. Looks he's making an effort to harass the first person he sees that will give him the time of day.
Poor you. ]
HEY, YOU. YES, YOU, THE SLACK JAWED, DROOLING BUFFOON I'M CURRENTLY POINTING MY CLAWED, TACTILE APPENDAGE AT.
YOU.
YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK WE'RE DOING HERE, WHY WE'RE IN THESE RIDICULOUS OUTFITS, AND WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO EVERY LAST ONE OF MY BARELY TOLERABLE FORCED TRAVELING COMPANIONS OR I'M GOING TO FLIP MY SHIT. I WILL FLIP MY SHIT SO WELL AND SO LONG THAT IT WILL BE CHARRED TO A GRILLED PERFECTION, AND JUST WHEN YOU THINK IT CAN'T POSSIBLY GET ANY BETTER, I WILL COVER IT WITH THE MAYO OF EXQUISITE BATSHITTERY AND FORCE IT DOWN YOUR GAPING FEED CHUTE-
[ Any time you wanna cut in would be good. ]
no subject
What are we doing?