-- carcinoGenticist [CG] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC] --
CG: ARE YOU THERE?
CG: ALTERNIA TO SHITSTAIN.
CG: COME IN, SHITSTAIN.
CG: UGH, FINE. BEST FRIEND.
CG: MIRACLES. A WHOLE DISGUSTING MESS OF THEM.
CG: HAVE I SAID THE GODDAMN MAGIC WORDS YET?
CG: I CAN’T BELIEVE I HAVE TO RELY ON YOU.
CG: DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER TALKING TO ME YESTERDAY?
CG: THAT WOULD BE A MIRACLE. NO SCIENCE INVOLVED, JUST AWFUL RANKSCENTED MIRCALES.
CG: FUCK, PIEBULGE, ANSWER ME.
TC: CaLm YoUr TiTs, My MiRaClE bRoThEr!
TC: It’S eArLy As FuCk, YoU’rE lUcKy My FuCkInG SnAcK gOt ItS aTtAcK oN.
TC: WhY yOu AlL uP iN tHe DaY?
CG: DID YOU GET THE THING WE TALKED ABOUT? DO NOT MAKE ME CULL YOU.
TC WoUlD i LeT a BeSt BrO aLl DoWn? HoNk No! :o)
CG: FINE. THANK GOD. I’LL BE THERE AS SOON AS THE SUN GOES DOWN.
TC: WhY fUcKiNg WaIt? ThE wAvEs LoOk So FuCkInG aMaZiNg In ThE lIgHt. I’m GoNnA
-- terminallyCapricious [TC] went idle --CG: ARE YOU EVER GOING TO FINISH THAT SENTENCE?
CG: NEVER MIND. STOP GOING OUT DURING THE DAY, YOU STUPID NOOKLICKER.
CG: I’LL BE AT YOUR HIVE AS SOON AS IT’S DARK. DON’T FRY YOUR STUPID ASS BEFORE THEN.
-- carcinoGenticist [CG] ceased trolling terminallyCapricious [TC] --
Fuck. You glance at the boiling Alternian sun, illuminating the foliage outside your lawn ring. It won’t go down for another hour. You really don’t have any time to waste on these shenanigans, but since your lusus is an excitable bastard you have no choice in the matter. You creep past his sleeping form, sure that he would be pissed if he knew you were up so early. But you really don’t have a choice, do you? Oh, damn. The artifact bitch is bugging you.
-- apocolypseArisen [AA] began trolling carcinoGenticist [CG] --
AA: i did n0t realize y0u w0ke s0 early
CG: I DON’T WAKE UP THIS EARLY, WHIPSUCKER. I HAVE IMPORTANT SHIT TO DO TODAY. AND HOW IS THIS ANY OF YOUR CONCERN?
AA: I d0n’t understand why y0u are s0 antag0nistic but 0kay
AA: thank y0u for the m0vie grub
CG: UGH. DON’T MENTION IT. EVER.
CG: YOU GET PEOPLE SHIT ON THEIR WRIGGLING DAY.
CG: IT’S AN HONORED FUCKING CUSTOM.
AA: it was still decent 0f y0u
AA: and it is 0nly a relatively new cust0m as 0ur ways g0 c0nciding with the 1000th year-
Time to do something else. Anything else. You hate talking to her. She’s so weird, questioning millennia of tradition, and digging in the dirt. You forget that she’s always up, looking at those freaking things she finds and trying to unravel their ‘mysteries’. This is the reason that you shouldn’t have given her that movie player for her last wriggling day. Not that you have ever given even a remote shit about her. But she’s your friend’s moirail, and maybe that’s enough of an excuse for pitying her a bit. That reminds you. None of this plan will succeed if the idiot gets dragged away on a wild honkbeast chase.
CG MAKE SURE YOUR NOOKSNIFFING MOIRAIL IS ACTUALLY AT HIS HIVE TONIGHT.
AA: n0t m0irals but n0t a pr0blem
AA: why didn’t y0u c0me t0 his wriggling celebrati0n last night?
AA: he said he wanted y0u to c0me
CG: I HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO WITH MY PRECIOUS TIME THAN SPEND IT WITH A NUBSUCKING GRUB.
AA: says the f0ur-sweep-0ld
CG: OKAY FUCK OFF, JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE ALL ANCIENT DOESN’T MEAN I’M NOT THE MOST MATURE TROLL.
AA: 0f c0urse grubling
AA: but why d0 y0u want him at his hive?
CG: IF IT WERE ANY OF YOUR GODDAMN BUISNESS I’D SEND YOU A FULL MANUEL, WHY I SPEND MY USEFUL TIME DOING SHIT FOR A BIPOLAR FUCKWIT.
CG: BUT CONGRATULATIONS! YOU’RE JUST A PSYCHIC FUCKTARD WHO LIKES AWFUL TROLL INDIANA JONES MOVIES
AA; I c0uld just get him t0 c0me t0 my lawnring and ruin whatever y0u have planned
CG: DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE. LOOK. ITS
CG: IT’S A FRIENDSHIP THING, OKAY?
CG YOU SO MUCH AS MENTION IT TO HIM AND I WILL CULL YOU
AA: I c0uld destr0y y0u any night any cycle
AA: but sure
AA: he’ll be at his hive t0night
CG: THANK WHIPTARD
-- carcinoGenticist [CG] ceased trolling apocolypseArisen [AA] --
Why, why of all the cruel fucking fates did your ‘best friend’ have to be the only troll within walking distance with a working thermal hull? You glance at the hunk of garbage that once held roe cubes. Every now and then it would let off a spark, as if to punctuate how boned you are. No fucking chance of repair.
Squinting through the setting sun, you start gathering shit for your journey. A rusty-but-sharp sickle, stolen from the training hive for potential threshecutioners. It’s a little big for you, but you’re dead certain you’ll grow into it. Bandages, in case you get wounded. A shirt with a hood, in case you need to conceal your face. Having your freakish blood really fucking sucks, but your lusus has drilled you on how to hide it since you can remember. You’d be damned if you got culled, today of all days, for carelessness.
At least Gamzee’s hive isn’t terribly far away. Right as the sunsets, all sorts of semi-aquatic beasts wander from land to sea to sleep, and avoiding them is high priority. Within half an hour, you’re in the dunes above his lavish hive. The door isn’t even closed, which is unsurprising and would be alarming if you didn’t see his lusus patrolling the waters around Gamzee’s hive all the time. The fucker never knows how safe he is, lucky troll. You walk in, calling out your ‘best friend’s’ name. No response. Sigh.
Avoiding a horn pile, you keep shouting until you hear a small honk. It’s coming from the kitchen. You should have thought of that in the first place, nookstain! It isn’t hard to find the stupid clown. All you needed to do was follow your nose. The scent of baked soper slime is uniquely musky, and is filling the air the closer you get to the kitchen.
You find the moron leaning upside down, balancing on his shoulder and back with lanky legs pushing against the wall. How... why did...? UGH, nevermind. His eyes are blissfully closed, and he’s waving his fingers in front of his ears. He looks like he’s having a moment. It is your solemn duty to ruin this.
You kick his shoulder, where he is resting most of his weight, and get the satisfactory glimpse of his eyes opening wide and looking startled. His legs go right over his head, the beginning of his ganglyness already showing up as he flails his long arms and lets out a small yelp. Watching him go ass over teakettle is one of the great joys in your life.
“wwwoah, motherfucker! That wasn’t... wasn’t....” He trails off into giggles, and starts moving his arms like he is swimming in the floor. Oh goddamnit. You eye the three or four pie tins on the counter. Well, isn’t he going to be a helpful fuckwit.
“Gamzee, look at me. Ju- No, fuck, I’m right here. Come on, make your fucking eyes focus on my face- higher, no, stop laughing goddamn AUGH.” You bend down and flick his forehead, hard. His giggles don’t stop, but he’s looking you in the eye and he looks a bit more present.
“Slime-pan. Do you remember me asking you about the coolbox?” His eyes focus a bit more, and the nod he gives you is mostly steady. You are surprised by how quickly he sits up, a switch in his mind flipped. Grabbing his hand, you pull him up. He barely wobbles, giving you a grin and pointing a bit to the left of the freeze-side of the thermal hull.
“Yeaah, what kind of fucking friend would I be if I didn’t? The messiahs preach that shit.” He pulls out a horn and gives it a honk for emphasis.
You attempt not to roll your eyes, and open the door. Perfect. There’s the stupid shit you spend yesterday trying to buy, and judging by the label it’s pretty good. Sometimes having an indigo-blooded friend had perks.
Closing the door, you see that Gamzee had been pointing to a coolbox. It will keep everything good for a few hours, and you turn, mentally preparing yourself to humble your ass and thank him-
The fucker is halfway through another pie slice, and already giggling again. FACEPALM. You nod your thanks instead. He nods with you, and keeps on nodding long after you stopped. Stoned fool. This is the reason your lusus wouldn’t let you eat soper slime. Sometimes the crab isn’t a completely horrible guardian, you guess.
Pulling open the freezeside, you grab the thing and stick it into the coolbox. It’s an awkward size for your stupid arms- you’ll have to be careful not to get cornered. You cannot wait to be bigger. So strong and fast, no one would try and cull you, and you could force her imperious condescension to make you a threshecutioner! But enough dreaming. You throw some frozen water squares in there for good measure, and try to leave. Try.
You haven’t taken three steps out of the hive before you realize that you have a stoned follower. Isn’t this fucking perfect.
“GAMZEE. Go back inside. There are nice pies, waiting for your fucktarded mouth to enjoy them. Shoo.”
Gamzee shakes his head, with a doofy grin. He doesn’t say anything, but also doesn’t stay put when you close the door on him. Bleh, you give up. You have to get this present to the bifuricated bulgebag’s hive. With the frozen water squares in the coolbox, it might be helpful to have another pair of hand. Even a stoned pair of hands. A small shudder runs up your trollspine.
AND THEN YOU HAD A MAGICAL FUCKING JOURNEY.
Well. If by ‘Magical”, you mean trying to get Gamzee not killed, and eventually taking a fucking detour to Tavros’s cliff to get him out of your hair. Sweet almighty taint-chafing FUCK, what a waste of time. It’s a stupid-long journey to take alone dragging a coolbox, but having Gamzee staring at every salivating beast and oohing would be worse. So. Much. Worse.
You get there a few hours later, not daring to open the coolbox and slightly worried that the entire thing has been a flaming failure. The tall scrapers of hivestems loom in front of you, the small city with blinking lights and some idiots passing by. You dodge away from everyone you see, especially the larger trolls. It’s hard to duck into a shadow gracefully lugging the thing, but you fucking manage. Standing in front of Captor’s hive, you even let yourself feel a bit of pride. Then you remember how far up the bastard lives. Fuck.
You hate communal hivestems. With a burning fucking passion. They’re too damn tall and there are too many other bulgebags coming and going for you to visit more than once in a while. Fuckily, most of the morons living here are just crawling into their recooperacoons, damn daybirds.
Still, going up the staircase is a pain in your nook, why the hell did you decide to do this again? At least you don’t have to worry about his stupid lusus. And damn do you mean stupi- oh fuck. Oh shit. Why is he a few feet away from the door? Why is he not chained to the roof? What more can POSSIBLY GO WRONG?
You peek around the corner for a bit before you realize that the bicyclops is occupied with a jar of mind honey. It seems to have gotten it stuck on the blue head, while the red head unhelpfully makes grunting noises. Their arms desperately try to remove the jar.
You start walking, carefully now, along the wall... just... have to sneaaak past- ohfuck the red head is watching you now, its tiny brain slowly processing. You make it to the door get it open by the time the red head realizes, ding! intruder!, and releases a small roar of rage as it tries to turn around to hit you. You kick the coolbox in and SLAM the door shut.
Backing up quickly, you hear his fist rattle the door, but it holds up fine. Breath. In and out, in and out, you see the door buckle slightly, but then it stays silent. Must have lost interest. You exhale loudly and turn aroun- FUCK SHIT. You jump a goddamn foot and fumble for your sickle, as two mismatched eyes are a fucking inch from your face.
“FUCK, don’t STARTLE me like that Captor!” You let the sickle drop. He doesn’t look too fucking happy. A few purple bees buzz around him, and with a small snap he directs them back to their server. He doesn’t say anything to you- just turns and starts walking away. The hell? You are not putting up with this!
You grab his shoulder, and swing him around to look at you, lips starting to curl into a snarl. He looks surprised at first, but as you start yelling, he just looks even more pissed.
“HEY, FUCKWIT! Are you getting off on ignoring me? What the hell, not even a fucking, ‘hey’? I thought we were fucking friends-“ All of a sudden your hand loses its grip on his shoulder, and there’s a sensation a bit like being violently tossed by psionic power. Yeah, that’s that what this resembles.
Well hello there mister door. Sorry we always meet in such unhappy circumstances. You wince as the purple glow holds you, knowing you’ll have a bruise from where the knob is digging in.
Why, why are you friends with biploar psionics again? Captor stands a few feet away from the door, giving you a sneer. As cool as he is, he can’t hide general air of hurt around him, his shoulders having trouble decided if they should slump or tense up. You try to feel rage, but the feeling slithering into your insides is more like guilt.
“Hey, Kaykay. How’th thith for hello? You didn’t even fucking troll me yethterday, and now you butht my door down and think I’m going to be fucking happy about theeing your lame fucking nook? Think again. I don’t even know why I fucking thtayed home when AA thaid you might show up.”
His back decides on slouching, and he turns away from you. Released, you try and keep your fucking mouth shut. You want to yell, tell him how fucking hard you worked to get the slimebulge- but no.
You stiffly walk back to the coolbox sitting by the entrance, lifting it and marching to the kitchen without looking at his face. You hear him sigh, frustrated, and the slight slam of the door as he retreats to his room.
Fuck, see if you do anything nice again. Angrily, you dig into the coolbox. The frozen water has half melted, but everything is still solid and cold. Ripping off the label, you dig around in his shelves for a clean bowl, fingers clumsy with rage.
Why the fuck are you still here? You should just leave, and he’ll never fucking figure out why you made the goddamn trip. You consider it for maybe a full second. Then, you grab the scoop and start preparing the present, cussing under your breath the whole time. You stick the rest of it into the blue side of his thermal hull.
Grumbling, you open the door. Captor sits up straighter as you come in, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge your existence. You look over his shoulder, and see some insanely complicated ATH program running, the blues and red flashing fast enough to make your thinkpan ache. He stiffens up even more as you get closer, and you can see his eyes glow slightly. You hurriedly put the bowl in front of him, and retreat a few steps.
You can’t see his face anymore, but you can hear him breathe in. It’s kind of satisfying. It’s not often that he actually goes out and gets decent ice cream, too busy coding and hacking. But you know it’s his favorite treat. You teased his lispy ass about it once, his inability to spit such a simple word past his fangs. You don’t think he remembers the conversation.
When he turns around to look at you, you pull up the hood of your shirt and turn, ready to walk out. He was about to say something, you’re sure, but he stops at your about-face. Whatever. You can’t let him see your mutant fucking blood, stained on your face.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see him pick up the spoon, and try a bite. He looks so much less cool when those stupid fangs are showing in a lopsided idiot's grin. Licking the spoon, god can that asshole look any stupider? So fucking happy, it makes you sick. Your face heats up a bit more.
You mumble, half-heard, “Happy wriggling day, douchebag” and flee, trying not to smile like an idiot the whole way down the stairs.
-- twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] –-
TA: vanta2 you nub2lurpiing fuckpod.
TA: why diid you run away?
TA: you fuckiing 2uck for not comiing two my wriiggliing day
TA: but ii’ll forgiive you thii2 one tiime.
TA: thank2 for the iicecream.
TA: you blubberiing iidiiot.
-- twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] –-
-- twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] –-
TA: ehehe and before you move your fuckiing 2eedflap KK?
TA: of cour2e we’re 2tiill friiend2.
-- twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] –-