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Date & Time: After this.
Location: suite 207
Characters: Gamzee Makara (

honkhonkwoof), Karkat Vantas (

hornery), John Egbert (

mesovortice).
Summary: Shooshpappin' cuz someone is pretty upset rn.
Warnings: Supremely adorable palebroship, also perhaps Gamzee's violent thoughts.

His horns sing.

Anger burns throughout his mind, and so his chucklevoodoos spring free and loosen; they twine through his head and out through his horns, and it feels as if he is rattling. It is an almost pleasant feeling, a dizzying one; and the anger burns a steady line of thought. One that says he needs to find a certain seadweller, and school him.

He does not care about his roommates, and about the fact that they are most likely being affected horribly by this. He does not care about the neighbors, either, and that they might get a whiff of his chucklevoodoos as well.

Gamzee really doesn't care about anything as he flicks open his netbook as he stands from his place on the bed and asks Eridan what room he's in. And it's so close, and he is completely intending to let his chucklevoodoos seep through to the disgusting seadweller's mind, completely intending to teach him something he won't forgot as he slams his room's door open, and heads towards the exit.

Though, he does hope Karkat leaves him alone; this is only a quiet thought in the back of his mind.

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Karkat has been enjoying this whole thing where he gets to sleep now after weeks without it. Well, he had that little nap, but considering the circumstances, he's not keen to qualifying it as rest. Anyway, that's what Karkat is doing when homicidal troll #1 is getting into it with homicidal troll #2. He's all snug in his bed. It's not like being snug in a recuperacoon. There's no sopor drugging him so he doesn't sleep as deeply, but he's not going to say no to it. And slime or no slime, he's out like a light until Gamzee's chucklevoodoos hit him and Karkat's dream turns so foul he wakes up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating and feeling like he's going to vomit.

Karkat is out of bed faster than he ever has been in his life up until now. Terror is pulling at his insides like actual fists fucking around in his gut and the primal part of his brain where fear lives feels as if it is actually going to explode and cover his walls with red. Like he's nothing more than a packet of ketchup someone got too rambunctious with. This not some bullshit run of the mill fear. It's suffocating and he's felt it before.

It's only a second before Karkat is out of his room. He catches Gamzee by the wrist right as he grips the doorknob. His voice is going to come out thin and shaky and he'll be panting as soon as he's done speaking. Normally, that'd be fucking embarrassing, but right now he doesn't give a shit. There is an entire mountain of shits he does not give. "Couch now."

He almost wants to snarl at Karkat, but he hears the shake in his voice, and feels the tremble in his grip. It would be incredibly easy to shake him off, but he doesn't. Not yet, anyways. Just slowly turns to look at him, and yes, the steady yellow of his eyes are again turned to a much deeper color.

Karkat's a pushy motherfucker. So without a word, he turns and stalks over to the couch, and sits down quickly. He is impatient. He wants Karkat to hurry up and say whatever he wants to say -- (and while he was angry, it wasn't so uncontrolled he was about to hurt his moirail.)

Moirail, right. Fuck. His chucklevoodoos just spin a little stronger for a second, and he wishes he was out of the door and in front of Eridan far more than sitting on the damn couch, in front of Karkat.

Karkat stares down at him for about half a minute, just trying to calm his breathing and get himself sorted. He wonders if he should sit down next to Gamzee. He doesn't really know what he's doing yet. This whole moirallegiance thing. It's simple in theory, but Gamzee's so difficult to predict now. Even without the tragedy in everything that happened, Karkat has the most fucked up whiplash. It's like the twist in some sort of clown-themed b-horror, Gamzee-before turning into Gamzee-now, and Karkat isn't really sure he can pull this off again. This is the real test, isn't it? To see if he can do it again?

But anyway, couch. He has this whole fucking mental debate going on. It's weird arguing with his current-self for once. It's like a little game of ping pong going on inside his skull. Back and forth, back and forth. Eventually sitting scores on standing and Karkat settles himself on the couch so he's facing Gamzee. He swallows awkwardly.

Breathe in, breathe out.

After a couple of seconds, he decides to just go for it and slowly reaches out to take Gamzee's face in his hands. Karkat rubs his thumbs over his eyebrows for a moment, just trying massage the crazy out of his face. It's a very literal approach, but whatever.

Gamzee glares up at him, impatience rising. He almost growls in relief when Karkat finally sits down and faces him, but he still feels like he's waiting. Karkat isn't saying anything. His silence is almost more insufferable than his constant blabble, in a way -- but then not really, because he honestly wouldn't be able to handle Karkat constantly nattering on and on right now.

His chucklevoodoos still murmur and whisper constant things; and as hands come up to brush against his face, it rises and he's surely giving Karkat a glare pertaining to certain death. It just irritates him, irritates him more than it soothes him.

But then the anger kind of... melts as he looks into Karkat's eyes. He looks so fucking terrified, so fucking pitiful, and the itch to slap his hands away fades. But there is still that insistent nagging, so he doesn't let his shoulders droop, doesn't let his muscles relax.

"Calm your ass down." Karkat isn't stupid; he knows what's happening here. He sees the glare and gets that Gamzee is only going along with this because Karkat looks like the boogietroll is hiding in his closet. A victory is a victory, though.

Karkat rearranges himself so his legs are folded under him like a fleshy little booster seat (Why is he so short?) and pulls Gamzee's face closer to his own. It might not have happened for Gamzee, but Karkat promised him an earful white hot palebro spittle if he stopped by for another visit to Crazy Clown Party Town, and he is going to get it. Just soft, shooshing noises in his ear. Little calming murmurs. By now, Karkat's hands have migrated away from Gamzee's face, and he's just gently combing his fingers through the hair behind his ears.

"Zen as a kung-fu master, okay. That's what you're aiming for. Shhhhh."

The urge to shove Karkat away kind of twists and fades as he gets closer. He fucking hates it, but his eyelids droop as he's shooshed, the sharp anger slipping, and with it his chucklevoodoos. He'd never admit it, but the attention is nice. This is just plain nice, isn't it? There's no real need to be angry. Why waste his time on Eridan? He had Karkat, a moirail, and who the fuck did Eridan have?

Something urges him to snap in retaliation to those fingers in his hair, but it's smothered by the soft noises Karkat makes, stifled by his words. There's no real use in being angry anymore, he decides. So his shoulders slump and he lets himself relax, at least for now.

"Mm. Honk honk, brother."

It's still a bit weird to him-- new relationship and all-- the way this thing works. If he's honest with himself, Karkat probably had a palecrush on Gamzee for a while. At least since they entered the Medium. He figures if you spend weeks looking after someone like that, it's going to stir up pale feelings if there are feelings to be stirred. This really isn't how he pictured it, though. Or would have pictured it if he'd actually toyed with the idea. And that's fine. His pity levels are through the roof. Gamzee is probably the worst guy to be stuck with as a moirail, but Karkat is actually pretty okay with that. He just didn't expect warmth to flood him the way it does when he feels Gamzee relax. The way that sense of numbing fear is replaced with warm fuzzy bullshit in a matter of a few seconds. Karkat almost feels like he's in one of his movies, and wow, he is such a hopeless romantic for thinking that.

He only combs through Gamzee's hair for a minute or so more before wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close in the palest damn hug he can manage at this angle. 'This angle' being about 90 degrees, so it's pretty awkward, but Karkat does his best. He puts his head on Gamzee's shoulder and rubs his back and everything. Little diamonds might as well be flying out of his ears.

He hasn't let up on his hushing noises any, but he pauses to ask, "Are we finished feeling homicidal? Is our shit significantly less excited now?"

Gamzee's gone past relaxed to starting to feel pretty damn zen. Karkat is warm, and the hands in his hair feel good, and a dull kind of relaxation is taking over him. Tense muscles loosen, and he thinks a quiet thought in the back of his mind; that this is the only person he can surrender his guard to without worry.

It is most certainly a miracle; the way Karkat's warmth bleeds through to him as he embraces Gamzee. Little hands smoothing over his back, a domino effect; he sighs and tugs Karkat closer, while his heart -- which he didn't really realize was thumping so terribly -- finally falls back to a steady beat.

He hums something mindless in response before speaking up. His voice is hoarse. "Yeah. Yeah, 'm all got wicked chill, man." And he adds -- only a little more than a whisper, "Thanks, Karbro." And he'll nuzzle his neck in an affectionate kind of way, sighing again. Yeah. Yeah, he could stay calm.

Karkat pulls back just enough to bump his forehead against Gamzee's and look him in the eyes. "What the hell even set you off? You can't let this shit happen, dude. If you think you're gonna go all crazy murder clown, you don't start to head out the door to go club people. Talk to me, okay?"

He's probably going to have to drill this into Gamzee's head at some point. Maybe Karkat should look into setting up a schedule. Daily feelings jams at 8 sharp. Whatever it takes until this horn-obsessed asshole realizes why he has a moirail to begin with.

He almost feels a little guilty, but that's almost, and a little.

"Sorry. It was Eridan, my man. He got his heresy on real harsh and decided to bring 'round the motherfucking 'voodoos." But he forces himself to push those little pricks of faint anger away, giving an awkward shrug instead.

"But that ain't the motherfucking thing that should be gettin' on my mind at this time now. I'll talk to you before I let his harshwhimsies drill all down in my thinkpan."

"Talk to me before anyone's harshwhimsies- Holy shit, I sound like a tool. Look, just don't talk to him, okay?" Karkat huffs as he lets his head fall to Gamzee's shoulder again. "Just fucking walk away from the situation if you're hankering to start a corpse party. Can you promise me that, you stupid shit?" Karkat's arms wrap around Gamzee more tightly and he attempts to headbutt him in the jaw. It's probably closer to a nuzzle, though, since he's not actually trying and his horns are useless nubby little things.

He has so much work to do with this clown. He knows Gamzee's probably not going to listen to his requests either. Not the first time, at least. Karkat wonders if there's some sort of human drug that they could use to ease Gamzee into sobriety with less homicidal outbursts. He should find Gamzee a hobby too. One that will eat up his time and channel his shithive feelings in a less bloody way. He'll make up some charts later.

He sighs, but not in an irritated way. More like he's resigned. It would be a promise that would be broken eventually, he thinks vaguely. But he can try, can do his best. For Karkat. Because he was asking.

Gamzee simply returns the hug and closes his eyes a moment, breathing in deeply. He smiles crookedly as Karkat nuzzles him, and returns the gesture with a rumbling chuckle.

But he decides to get his serious on, and with another resigned sigh, "Yeah. Okay. I'll get my promise on real tight, just for you, my man. For motherfucking serious."

John has spent the past ten minutes sitting in his room under a blanket in the corner. He's wrapped himself up pretty tight, hugging a pillow and hiding his head. His eyes are on the door. He has never felt more afraid in his life. There is absolutely no reason to be so afraid but he feels it as though it were tangible.

Though suddenly, as though it's fallen off of some sort of cliff... the fear dissolves. He is still shaking and out of his mind with the fear but it is more manageable. He can slowly get to his feet, walk to the door and just as deliberately open it. He is still hugging a pillow and wrapped up in his bedding, he is still shaking and his eyes are still wide, but he isn't literally paralyzed.

So he wanders down the slight hall, into the living room, and pauses. What the fuck are they doing. His bewilderment outweighs the fear.

"Uhh... what's going on, you guys?"

His voice is a little unsteady.

Karkat looks up when John speaks, and there's a shift in his brow that makes his entire face look much grumpier than it did a moment ago. Awkward timing much? But it's just as well. It's not like Karkat can sit around hugging clowns all day. He doesn't pull away from Gamzee though.

"Troll thing."

Gamzee looks round at John when he speaks, startled by his words. His muscles tense a moment, but Karkat isn't pulling away, so he relaxes again, and turns back to continue nuzzling Karkat. He doesn't even comprehend John's words.

It is a truly indecent show of moirailship but he doesn't give a fuck, and doesn't really care -- or even realize! that John might be confused by this.

Wow that is. Okay. John clutches his pillow to himself a bit tighter and tries not to laugh. It is more out of nervousness than anything else, but it releases tension when he finally does break down and laugh, and so he welcomes it.

"You two are really cozy there. But I mean what is going on? I felt, uh. Really really terrified for a bit there and I have no idea why. I am still freaked out honestly."

This is so awkward. Karkat can't even deal with it. He slowly disengages from the hug. Karkat doesn't really move away from Gamzee, but he does sit normally. You know, with his butt on the couch instead of his legs. The left one's fallen asleep, and he is so angry about it.

"Again, troll thing. This fuckball got all riled up. Woke me up with a punch to the terror gland. Don't worry about it, though." He'll explain Gamzee's deal to John one day, but today is not that day. Probably. He hopes not. John already sort of knows, right? Some of it. What the fuck is wrong with this kid? He knows he's sharing a hive with a periodically homicidal maniac and he's just cool with it. It's one thing for a troll, but.

Ugh, Karkat doesn't get John.

He makes a tiny sound of displeasure as Karkat breaks up the hug, but his attention is quickly captured by John. He turns to stare at him, but looks back to Karkat when he speaks. He looks back to John and figures he should say something.

"Ain't nothing you need to be worryin' about, my man. Like Karkat was sayin'." He shrugs to himself and sighs. His mood isn't quite sullied but he wishes John would have hidden in his room longer.

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