03-17-2016, 02:46 PM
One second, Gamzee is sprinting wildly off towards the fountain. Then, the motherfucker blinks. And THEN a boy’s body is flying straight for his face, like a cruel fastball aimed by a pitcher with a grudge. Oh shit, oh shit, it’s totally about to smack him in the face, Gamz is about to get body-to-face slapped he-
Oh, wait, nope. Heheh. The clown was still a ways away from the kid’s body, which bounces like an orange bouncing sphere across a pearly white orange bouncing sphere playing area.
Man. Gamzee hasn’t played orange bouncing sphere in about a forever.
The troll slows down as he comes up on the crumpled up form of of the boy in blue. And white. This guy’s color scheme was a little weird. ‘Course, this motherfucker is one to talk. Er, think. Comment? Silently? Whatever. Now is not the time to have an existential debate on his inner thoughts.
For whatever reason, Gamzee is suddenly infatuated with this pale, unconscious motherfucker. Not...in a heart-y way. Just a mild interest, per se. In a moment’s thought, the clown’s juggling pins materialize in a rainbow sparkle, right into the teen’s hands. He twirls them around with lazy abandon before taking a few tentative steps forward. Ever so carefully, the Ambrosian brushes aside the luscious black locks drooping in the boy’s oddly attractive features. Then, he bops the sleeping dude on the forehead. Getting down on his hands and knees, he grabs a pale earlobe and holds the fighter’s ear wiiiiiide open.
“HEEEEEELLLLOoOoOoOoO?”
Nah. This brah is way, way gone. Someone flipped this one’s off switch.
Should he leave him here? The clown’s clubs disappear in a similar sparkly fashion as before. Grabbing him by the wrist, Mister Makara slings the sleepy head up and over his shoulders, limp sack of potatoes he was. He didn’t even know this kid’s name. Nah. Better not leave’em here.
At a brisk jog, the Capricorn carries his new bro towards what looks like a weeeeeiiiirrrd paaarrr-taaaaaayy. He ain’t even close enough to see facial features, but Gamzee is getting some weird ass vibes from a couple of these motherfuckers.
And it’s not the good kind of weird.
---
“HEEEEEEEY! YOOOOOO!”
*wheeze* *huff*
Gamzee is wheezing hella hard. This motherfucker across his shoulders is just dead weight right now. He gave up jogging as soon as he got in earshot, and just began a calm little stroll towards uh…
Whatever the hell this is. They were still kinda far away, but the Clown can see some giant hulking flamey dude, some other motherfuckers that don’t look like they’s doing so hot, a hunk of metal person with a biznasty sword, and uh-
Honestly, he can’t even begin to describe his thoughts on this current situation. There’s a bunch of flashy light thingies, a crazy looking motherfucker tryna kill another motherfucker that is probably just as out of his mind, and just all kinds of metaphorical venom floating around in the air. This place is not chill. No. The source of this not chill is arguably the big dude that happens to be on fire and doesn't even seem to care one bit about it. It hurts to think about his thoughts, the ones specifically pertaining to said situation. A pain, all up and biting at his ass, that’s what this is so far. Upon finding the far flung body, Gamzee totally forgot why in the hell he even chose to come towards all these ‘splosions.
“DOES THIS SPIKEY HAIRED MOTHERFUCKER ON MY BACK, uh,” Deep breaths Gamzee. C’mon. You can do it, “Whoo...BELONG TO ANY OF YA’LL FLAMIN’ MOTHERFUCKERS?” He finishes, along with another gulp of air.
The spikey haired motherfucker in question begins to stir and mumble at all this commotion. Nothing coherent, at least, not that the hella troll’s ears could understand.
Man. Things are kind of all over the place now. The High-Blood is all kinds of confused. There’s way too much going on at this very moment in particular time, or somefin’. His head is spinning from all the explosions and cacophony of weirdness going on, and that is truly saying something.
But does all of this anger and bitterness stop Gamzee from bringing hot goods into the middle of it all? Do the explosions and swords and death threats keep him from being as chill as he possibly can?
Hell nah. He marches right towards the thick of it with a friendly, stupid, goofy grin, and with a possible member of the Omniverse’s Most Wanted List across his shoulders.
That’s just how he operates.
Oh, wait, nope. Heheh. The clown was still a ways away from the kid’s body, which bounces like an orange bouncing sphere across a pearly white orange bouncing sphere playing area.
Man. Gamzee hasn’t played orange bouncing sphere in about a forever.
The troll slows down as he comes up on the crumpled up form of of the boy in blue. And white. This guy’s color scheme was a little weird. ‘Course, this motherfucker is one to talk. Er, think. Comment? Silently? Whatever. Now is not the time to have an existential debate on his inner thoughts.
For whatever reason, Gamzee is suddenly infatuated with this pale, unconscious motherfucker. Not...in a heart-y way. Just a mild interest, per se. In a moment’s thought, the clown’s juggling pins materialize in a rainbow sparkle, right into the teen’s hands. He twirls them around with lazy abandon before taking a few tentative steps forward. Ever so carefully, the Ambrosian brushes aside the luscious black locks drooping in the boy’s oddly attractive features. Then, he bops the sleeping dude on the forehead. Getting down on his hands and knees, he grabs a pale earlobe and holds the fighter’s ear wiiiiiide open.
“HEEEEEELLLLOoOoOoOoO?”
Nah. This brah is way, way gone. Someone flipped this one’s off switch.
Should he leave him here? The clown’s clubs disappear in a similar sparkly fashion as before. Grabbing him by the wrist, Mister Makara slings the sleepy head up and over his shoulders, limp sack of potatoes he was. He didn’t even know this kid’s name. Nah. Better not leave’em here.
At a brisk jog, the Capricorn carries his new bro towards what looks like a weeeeeiiiirrrd paaarrr-taaaaaayy. He ain’t even close enough to see facial features, but Gamzee is getting some weird ass vibes from a couple of these motherfuckers.
And it’s not the good kind of weird.
---
“HEEEEEEEY! YOOOOOO!”
*wheeze* *huff*
Gamzee is wheezing hella hard. This motherfucker across his shoulders is just dead weight right now. He gave up jogging as soon as he got in earshot, and just began a calm little stroll towards uh…
Whatever the hell this is. They were still kinda far away, but the Clown can see some giant hulking flamey dude, some other motherfuckers that don’t look like they’s doing so hot, a hunk of metal person with a biznasty sword, and uh-
Honestly, he can’t even begin to describe his thoughts on this current situation. There’s a bunch of flashy light thingies, a crazy looking motherfucker tryna kill another motherfucker that is probably just as out of his mind, and just all kinds of metaphorical venom floating around in the air. This place is not chill. No. The source of this not chill is arguably the big dude that happens to be on fire and doesn't even seem to care one bit about it. It hurts to think about his thoughts, the ones specifically pertaining to said situation. A pain, all up and biting at his ass, that’s what this is so far. Upon finding the far flung body, Gamzee totally forgot why in the hell he even chose to come towards all these ‘splosions.
“DOES THIS SPIKEY HAIRED MOTHERFUCKER ON MY BACK, uh,” Deep breaths Gamzee. C’mon. You can do it, “Whoo...BELONG TO ANY OF YA’LL FLAMIN’ MOTHERFUCKERS?” He finishes, along with another gulp of air.
The spikey haired motherfucker in question begins to stir and mumble at all this commotion. Nothing coherent, at least, not that the hella troll’s ears could understand.
Man. Things are kind of all over the place now. The High-Blood is all kinds of confused. There’s way too much going on at this very moment in particular time, or somefin’. His head is spinning from all the explosions and cacophony of weirdness going on, and that is truly saying something.
But does all of this anger and bitterness stop Gamzee from bringing hot goods into the middle of it all? Do the explosions and swords and death threats keep him from being as chill as he possibly can?
Hell nah. He marches right towards the thick of it with a friendly, stupid, goofy grin, and with a possible member of the Omniverse’s Most Wanted List across his shoulders.
That’s just how he operates.
Quote:767 Words, So sayeth Word Counter
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-by Jade Harley
Never Falter in the Face of Infinity.
-Tearan Wover
-by Jade Harley
Never Falter in the Face of Infinity.
-Tearan Wover