gAmZeE MaKaRa ♑ terminallyCapricious (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hystericull) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-12-01 05:45 pm
hystericull) wrote in towerofanimus2012-12-01 05:45 pm
008 ♑ [eighth honk]
Characters: [OU] Gamzee and you!
Setting: Laundry room.
Format: Action.
Summary: After having his ass forcefully dragged to the ablution chamber by his moirail for a scrub-down (and then subsequently jumping on to a pile of rifles and blowing himself to bits, negating all efforts anyway), Gamzee is feeling a little bit like a burden, and decides to do his own laundry for once. It would certainly help if he knew how.
Warnings: Gamzee.
[This was certainly somewhere Gamzee had never been.]
[Laundry was certainly something he had never, ever done or entertained the thought of doing.]
[He was now, however, on the third washing machine in (seeing as the first had exploded in thick, swirling plumes of dark smoke and bubbles - presumably as a result of using two bottles of detergent, and the second one had proceeded to overflow, and then overflow some more after he punched and dented its cover in a hissy fit), trying to decipher the knobs and dials so he could at least attempt to get the correct settings for his new winter jacket. He was a little worse for wear, by now. The washing machines liked to spew scalding water whenever possible, and it had doused him more than once. His hands were soapy and bright purple from being burnt as he reached for the knob on the third machine.]
[Dying had sort of solved his hygeine problem. He stood there now looking as clean as ever - face paint carefully applied like it had been when he'd first arrived, hair its natural jet black again, ratted and tangled in a mess of curls. The clothes on his back were also reverted, so they really didn't need any washing (well, they certainly did seeing as he came from being stuck on a meteor for God knows how long, but they were infinitely cleaner than they had been just yesterday).]
[A steaming pie sat smack dab in the middle of the cover to the current, functioning machine he was attempting to use. He eyed it warily. Breakfast sounded much better than trying to figure this shit out further, as it was only proving to make him more frustrated. He didn't want to punch this one to bits like its brethren and have to move on to a fourth. Maybe a snack break wasn't such a bad idea?]
[Detergent bottles were everywhere. He'd used two on the first machine, the rest of a half-empty one on the second, and accidentally dumped another full one all over the floor (and himself). Between the clouds of smoke, he waded through the syrupy liquid to seek out another bottle for his third attempt at washing this damn thing.]
[This would be a lot easier if he would just ask for help. But, he couldn't. After the whole shower thing, he'd been feeling much like an unintelligent, useless burden. Even though he hadn't really ever been taught how to use one of these things (or even that one should wash their clothes on a regular basis), he figured it would have been pretty easy to teach himself. Evidently not.]
[Now, where was that other detergent bottle?]
Setting: Laundry room.
Format: Action.
Summary: After having his ass forcefully dragged to the ablution chamber by his moirail for a scrub-down (and then subsequently jumping on to a pile of rifles and blowing himself to bits, negating all efforts anyway), Gamzee is feeling a little bit like a burden, and decides to do his own laundry for once. It would certainly help if he knew how.
Warnings: Gamzee.
[This was certainly somewhere Gamzee had never been.]
[Laundry was certainly something he had never, ever done or entertained the thought of doing.]
[He was now, however, on the third washing machine in (seeing as the first had exploded in thick, swirling plumes of dark smoke and bubbles - presumably as a result of using two bottles of detergent, and the second one had proceeded to overflow, and then overflow some more after he punched and dented its cover in a hissy fit), trying to decipher the knobs and dials so he could at least attempt to get the correct settings for his new winter jacket. He was a little worse for wear, by now. The washing machines liked to spew scalding water whenever possible, and it had doused him more than once. His hands were soapy and bright purple from being burnt as he reached for the knob on the third machine.]
[Dying had sort of solved his hygeine problem. He stood there now looking as clean as ever - face paint carefully applied like it had been when he'd first arrived, hair its natural jet black again, ratted and tangled in a mess of curls. The clothes on his back were also reverted, so they really didn't need any washing (well, they certainly did seeing as he came from being stuck on a meteor for God knows how long, but they were infinitely cleaner than they had been just yesterday).]
[A steaming pie sat smack dab in the middle of the cover to the current, functioning machine he was attempting to use. He eyed it warily. Breakfast sounded much better than trying to figure this shit out further, as it was only proving to make him more frustrated. He didn't want to punch this one to bits like its brethren and have to move on to a fourth. Maybe a snack break wasn't such a bad idea?]
[Detergent bottles were everywhere. He'd used two on the first machine, the rest of a half-empty one on the second, and accidentally dumped another full one all over the floor (and himself). Between the clouds of smoke, he waded through the syrupy liquid to seek out another bottle for his third attempt at washing this damn thing.]
[This would be a lot easier if he would just ask for help. But, he couldn't. After the whole shower thing, he'd been feeling much like an unintelligent, useless burden. Even though he hadn't really ever been taught how to use one of these things (or even that one should wash their clothes on a regular basis), he figured it would have been pretty easy to teach himself. Evidently not.]
[Now, where was that other detergent bottle?]
no subject
[Setting, setting... what setting? There were a lot of them. Should he just guess? The machines that had suffered his wrath earlier had been set to different settings to find out which one worked the best. It wasn't really obvious which setting did what, so he was basically still at square one after all of those experiments.]
It, uh. It's fuckin' made all outta some soft shit. It's warm, too.
[So helpful.]
no subject
Right. Uh...let's turn this to medium then.
[He points at the parts of the dial.]
Here's high, here's medium, and here's low. Now, turn it.
no subject
Uh... 'kay.
[He reached out, twisting the dial to the "medium" setting. He let go immediately after, snapping his hand back like the thing was a deadly cobra ready to tear his hand straight off.]
Press the button?
[Before waiting for confirmation, his finger was already reaching out to poke the "start" button. Gamzee, you're still holding your fucking jacket, what the fuck are you doing?]
[Can anyone be this bad at something?]
no subject
You were supposed to put the detergent in first.
[He looks toward the empty bottle.]
Get me a full bottle. I'll put it in.
no subject
[Gamzee looked around halfheartedly. Was there even a full bottle left? Bending over, he scooped one off of the ground by his feet. It was almost entirely covered in slimy soap, dripping off of the bottom and coating his hand as he held it by the handle. There was still about a quarter of a bottle left.]
Uh, will this work?
no subject
[He makes a disgusted face and then takes the bottle. He slowly tips it and pours what he thinks is the right amount into the spinning washer. Hopefully, it won't overflow.]
no subject
Fuuuck...
[Maybe doing the wash was fun!? All spinny and sudsy and... fuck.]
When do I put the thing in?
[His jacket was, once again, trailing on the floor in a puddle of slime and soap.]
no subject
Now! Dammit! Thrown it in now!
[He motions toward the washer.]
no subject
Your instructions is fuckin' balls, motherfucker!!!
no subject
Okay, now stay and wait and don't stick any limbs in.
no subject
How fuckin' long I gotta stand here!?
no subject
[He glares at the boy. It was this troll kid's laundry to begin with. So why was he complaining now that someone was actually helping him?]