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
[The thing about being turned down once already, and then subsequently fucking your chances a second time, was that there wasn't a lot of room left for nerves the third time. This one was supposed to be the charm, right? Or however that saying went. He tended to mix his metaphors a lot, so it really didn't matter.]
[Point was, he was pretty calm after dropping that bomb (the sopor helped), lowering his own hands and rolling his shoulders coolly.]
Can't be at remembering a time all when I fuckin' wasn't, yo. Was goin' through some dank-ass shit what's was before. Got thinkin' you ain't be motherfuckin' deserving to be all inheriting such faulty noise.
But, uh. Got my shit sorted proper.
Might be much fuckin' too late, but I ain't motherfuckin' one to be able at holding all that shit bottled the fuck up, you know?
no subject
Fuck, why can't he be as cool as Gamzee? This is difficult. ]
Damn, I wish I got my own shit all sorted. But, you know, it doesn't really matter. I don't think anything could change how I feel about you, Gamzee.
[ Another inhale; fucking heartbeats calm down. ]
I ... might fuck up a little, but I promise you that I will do whatever I can to make you happy. You are, literally, the only one I care about in here.
[ He chuckled again, shrugging his shoulders. ]
So, I guess now that you're my ... matesprit, I need to step it up. Heh.
no subject
["Matesprit." That word was not something he'd prepared himself to hear. He was flushed, sure. He'd been that way for ever and ever, as far back as he could remember. But in all his extravagant, sopored-up fantasies, he'd for some reason never imagined the word rolling off of Tavros' tongue like it just had.]
[The feeling was coming back again. The feeling he'd had numerous times while in this Tower. His first killing spree, his second killing spree, laying drugged out of his mind on the floor of the surgical cell, Karkat telling him about the future in the Veil, confronting Eridan, and countless other moments spent in solitary musing - the feeling that all of his experiences were some sort of dream. Some illusion that would be splashed away as if it was nothing.]
[If this was only a dream, though, Gamzee was pretty sure he'd prefer being stuck to going back to reality.]
Nah, bro.
You ain't gotta not do nothing what's all being motherfucking different than what all you be normally feelin' fuckin' inclined to up and do, you feel me?
[He reached forward, tentatively, taking one of Tavros' hands in his own bandaged one.]
No steppin' up for you, my brother. You're already at being at the motherfuckin' top of this bitch.
no subject
[ Man, Tavros wanted to believe him, but he had zero experience with quadrants.
Sure, he will smother Gamzee with affection and try his best to keep that smile glued to his face at all times, but he's pretty sure he's missing out on some important points. He was always so terrible with analyzing his own feelings, and this happens to be his first time showing confident about a certain quadrant. Now that his partner is willing, Tavros is having the time of his life trying to figure out the next step.
Then again, he had known Gamzee for sweeps, and they've been really good friends, so he's not as nervous as he would have been with anyone else. It was also comforting to know that Gamzee is equally inexperienced, unless he had a secret red romance that he didn't tell him about.
He curled his fingers around Gamzee's, grinning slightly. ]
So, can we like ... take naps together now?
[ Apparently that is the whole point of being in a red relationship! ]
no subject
[Holding hands in a steamy laundry room was not the ideal picture of romance, but it was more than enough for him. Hell, they could be neck-deep in lusii leavings and he wouldn't have given a single fuck. He gave a relaxed sigh.]
Yeah, brother. That be exactly a thing what all can be motherfuckin' arranged.
[Honestly? Fuck laundry. He wanted a damn nap.]
no subject
However, the steam is making him a bit lightheaded, and he wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. He had things to take care of first, but Gamzee didn't need to stay, especially with those nasty burns in his hands.
He inched closer to him, bringing his other hand to gently curl a few locks behind Gamzee's ear. ]
Okay, so how about I get our clothes all cleaned out, and you head back to your room to get some rest? I'll meet up with you later and we can, um, have a proper hang out!
... Are you up for it?
no subject
[Did he hear that correctly!? Did...? Was...? No way. This was adorable, innocent little Tavros he was staring at right now, reaching up and touching Gamzee carefully, like he was something important or some shit. There were never any double entendres to be had while speaking with that boy - always said exactly what was on his mind, which was honestly one of the things Gamzee loved most about him.]
[But, shit. Haha. There's an offer he wouldn't turn down either way you looked at it. Gamzee supposed he could set aside his ego for a second to bestow upon Tavros the undignified chore of cleaning his jacket. It was dark enough material that the bloodstains weren't too noticeable, at least, that's what Gamzee kept telling himself.]
[Never mind that shit. If Gamzee could get some saliva back into his mouth, and maybe close it, after letting it fall open in shock after that indecent proposal, he could finally work on actually answering Tavros.]
Fuck yeah, bro!
[WOW that sounded too eager. Tone it down, asshole.]
Always be down with kickin' the shit all wicked with a motherfucker who's being yourself. You got your know on of that, dog.
[He offered a toothy smile, not wanting to move from that spot with Tavros' hand at his ear but at the same time wanting to bolt to his room as fast as he could so he could find out just what a "proper hang out" consisted of.]