bl1ndbutnots1ghtl3ss: D4V3 1S 1T NORM4L FOR HUM4NS TO G1V3 OUT PL4NTS 1N P41LS?
considering i happen to be a human and havent received anything of the sorts id say not
especially if the act was random
who the hell does that anyways
was that meant as some sort of come on
➲ Dave: Face-off.
“You know like the back of your hand
Who let em in
You got me into this mess so
You get me out.”
Dave: Time travel and turntables.
From somewhere behind her, Meenah heard a shout.
This wasn’t unusual. Through wandering, sometimes alone, sometimes with others, and always on the lookout for proper pointy shit, she had followed the flow of life and noise into a crowded city area. Here was the hustle and bustle of a city, a real city, and if someone around here didn’t have something worth stabbing someone with, then she might as well give up here.
The streets were full of voices. But one voice stuck out because she’d heard it before.
She turned around and, sure enough, there he was.
“OY! YOU! Shades! Shades McBlondie over there, yeah, you, coolkid asshole! I know you. Water you doin’ here? And damn, of all the people in the furthest ring, why’s it you?” She shoved people aside, heading towards Blondie. “Is Serket here? Real Serket I mean, not Serket Two, don’t care nofin bout her. Man, I’d rather it be Serket. Whale, I guess at least it’s you and ain’t someone like Vantas. What’s all up in this shit, Blondie?”
Scoping out the environment for a couple of moments, he heard a call beckoning in his direction. Was it someone he knew? Turning around in slow motion (for the ironic purposes, of course) to come into view of the semi-familiar voice, Dave stopped dead in his tracks and stared. Literally, he just… continued to stare until he realized that this was not his imagination.
That gray, scaly skin. The demanding attitude. The rude behavior that remained unparalleled. Without a doubt, it was a troll. A familiar troll nonetheless.
As he began walking up to her, Strider began to slow down the pace as he realized that she wasn’t exactly the most thrilled to see him. Which, in all honesty, was mutual, but apparently she had no clue as to the circumstances of their situations. Clearing his throat for a moment, Dave retorted.
“Yeah yeah, I’m not exactly jumping for joy to see you here either. Shit, I wouldn’t be happy to see anyone we know here. But you see, we both got transported from the game into this city because we let down our fucking guards. Now these egotistical dickwads want to send us through hell in gasoline britches.”
Was he over-exaggerating? Probably, but was it truthful? Probably, both in the figurative and literal sense.
(Source: bethecoolkid)
Dave: Time travel and turntables.
“Oh really? Were you cryogenically frozen?” It would have seemed an oddly specific question if not for the fact that he had probably already met several people who’d been frozen for quite a while. He might even have been one himself. If the boy in front of him hadn’t felt a thing despite having been here for years, it certainly seemed possible.
There may have been some shock on the boy’s face, but it dissipated quickly enough. He couldn’t say people were starting to get used to him, but at least not all of them were freaking out.
“Ah… if you say so.” Who were those people? What were those movies? They didn’t sound familiar. What sort of similes were those? Couldn’t he have made more coherent comparisons? They probably made more sense in the boy’s mind. Much more sense.
“Sector three right now. The so-called ghetto. It’s where my apartment is, actually, and I can’t say it’s the nicest of places. Are you staying here as well?”
“Was I cryo-what? No, I wasn’t crying. I barely show any expression from what people tell me.” Well, he sure didn’t understand the question being posed to him. After all, for all of his stoicism, he was still a teenager going through the regular teenager motions. He may have been wise about many things, but in this particular situation, the armor-clad man before him seemed to confuse him.
Through his shades lied eyes of worry, shifting back and forth to figure out the cause of the commotion before him. For all of the ‘cool’ antics the boy displayed, he was very much still a human being. He could not rid himself of the underlying anxiety he began to feel.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of fucking Mel Gibson.” Staring for a moment—long enough to realize that the man was dead serious, Strider huffed. What kind of worlds do these creatures come from where they don’t even know who Mel Gibson and what the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air was? He dismissed it, listening to the man explain where they were.
“Figures. I would’ve traveled all the way to this shithole. I mean, this city in general is a heaping pile of shit. But this place… this is a new level of shit. Sector three is the god-tier of shit.
…nope. I’m three sectors down bro. Sector six.”
(Source: bethecoolkid)
{ again, again } — oo1
it seemed like just yesterday that the dog god was present in this godawful place. vivid lime hues scanned the terrain as an unexcited sigh slipped past plump lips, plush ivory harks slicking back against her skull in suite. she missed the ship with john, and by the looks of things, the prankster was absolutely nowhere in sight. same with dave and mister obnoxious himself, karkat.
radar gave an unconscious twitch as the witch began her mindless stroll through the city in search of the apartment that was listed on that diminutive sheet of paper, one ‘h-5.’ if memory served correctly, the fifth sector was the one that was considered the shopping district; she could always find some good food there… including some of those beggin’ strips which were probably for the canine citizens, but she found absolutely delightful.
vivid eyes unconsciously cast down to catch a look at the apartment’s letters once again before looking up at the buildings once again.
“Well, not the least place I wanted to be.”
Whelp, Strider was back in the shitter, no doubt about it. The air was polluted with waste and vile. Well, maybe not all of it, but roses really did smell like the foulest stench possible to him right now. The shop venders who surrounded his their Sector would otherwise excite him, but all it reminded him of was his current situation. No possible way currently present that pointed towards a way to leave. And, if the scientists believe that there were people who were content on their stay, reality check - nobody in their right mind would probably choose this place to live for the long haul.
As he stumbled out of his temporary coma, red eyes pierced through his otherwise pitch-black shades. Looking up at the pure white ceiling for a few moments, he rose himself off the ground. His body seemed to be a bit frail… wait, how long had he been knocked out for? Did they cast some kind of voodoo on him or something? It felt like months had passed by. The last event he could recall was running for his life from zombies with this punk, but even that wasn’t clear. Jesus Christ, these bastards must have been thorough on everything they did, huh?
Tossing on his fit for the day and grabbing his turntables in the process, the boy began making his way towards the door. What he saw on the other side—no matter how familiar—would be a welcomed surprise. Cracking a small smirk, Dave remarked smoothly.
“‘Sup lady. Don’t think I’ve seen your face around here before.”
Hopefully she’ll realize he’s not being serious.
Dave: Time travel and turntables.
“Oh… you’re new as well, then?”The boy had large sunglasses that covered his eyes. It was, of course, no locked metal suit, but the effect in obscuring his expression was similar. Rather than having only the eyes with which to express his emotion, the boy had everything but.
“We’ve been abducted and brought here to serve as part of an extended experiment of some case. I’m not entirely sure of the intentions behind it—they’ve sent us in blind, as is usually the case—but suffice to say we aren’t allowed to leave. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps if you’re lucky you’ll find someone you recognize.
They’ve been kind enough to provide each of us with an apartment. If you’d like, I can help you find yours. What number did they give you?”
He might have rambled a bit, there, but the situation deserved a full explanation. Newcomers were always a bit confused, and he certainly couldn’t blame them. The city was remarkably large and remarkably unlike anything he could remember, though that probably wasn’t much of a feat.
“Not exactly. Been here for years. Or… at least that’s what these pompous assfucks said. I haven’t felt a thing.”
Turning around to get a more clear view of the man behind him, he was surprised to see the fully-armored man. What in the world? Without a doubt there were strange occurrences to take place back in the unnecessarily complicated world of Sburb, but this was pretty weird. But hey, no one seemed to give a damn, so why should he?
“Nah man, save your breath. I know enough to know that I don’t like it here. I’m broke as Alfonsio Ribero after Fresh Prince, man. As emotionally unstable as Mel Gibson, post-Passion of the Christ.”
…And if the man knew anything about post-Passion of the Christ Mel Gibson, he would recognize that this was no laughing matter. Adjusting his shade, Dave pouted a bit. Yeah, he had gone over this entire routine. He appreciated the man’s efforts, but it also kind of irked him. Did everyone assume he was a newbie? Did none of that God-tier swagger rub off on him?
“…now that you mention it, I trailed off a little too far. What sector are we in?”
(Source: bethecoolkid)
