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[Watching such an old man rip a bong has got to be one of the highlights of Gamzee's stay on Ryslig. The nymph hardly blinks a glassy, green eye at the sight, too entertained to want to miss a single moment. His mouth is formed in an unwavering smirk, lined with crooked, sap-coated fangs.]

Shit, bro, you really isn't all motherfuckin' talk! Hahaha!

[He doesn't expect a response, as talking while your lungs are being ransacked by hot smoke isn't exactly the easiest task in the world. His train of thought is completely discarded, though, when Stan shoots him an accusatory glare, and Gamzee realizes the elderly fire-monster-thing had accidentally sunk back into...]

Oh-- uh... it's just fuckin' some sap, is all... ain't no thang, brother.

[Hopefully this guy was high enough now not to get too upset...]

[Gamzee is beginning to hum along, as well, even though he has no idea what the fuck song Henry is singing, he's gonna try to hum along to it anyway. They probably sound like the worst humming duo to ever exist, but he's too high to notice. To him, this is the best duet he's ever heard, not to toot his own horn or anything.]

[When Henry recoils, Gamzee's face draws up into a concerned expression... though it's more of a hazy concern, at best.]

Whoaaa... ain't gonna hurt you, motherfucker!

[ Expression twisting into that of disgust, Stan tries to tear himself from the couch with little success. The sap clings to him, insisting he stay by pulling him back into the upholstery, as if it were some method for keeping the creatures prey from escaping. But as the drugs take hold, a light headed feeling creeping over him, Stan begins to relax and slowly sink back into the couch.

Though unfavourable, there are other methods of getting out. Were it necessary, he could torch the entire couch, much like he would his clothes after this. ]

How much of this shit do you leak? [ He asks, holding the bong out for Gamzee. It may have lined the nymph’s teeth but to cover the couch to this extent he can only begin to imagine what other orifices it came out of. ]

And pass me that bag. [ Stan points at the 'oh-zee' the nymph had set out for him. Unlike his habitat, Gamzee’s product proved quite exceptional. Taste lingering in his mouth, the elder dares say it’s unlike anything he’s experienced. Smoking people was surprisingly satisfying. ] Stuff’s pretty good. What’s the harvest like?

Edited 2015-04-07 17:19 (UTC)

Sorry...you just. Sometimes you're stickly.

_{[He eyes his shoulder just to make sure none of that horrible sap and or blood is hanging off of him. Then he leans back and props himself up on his hands.]}

How many cops do you think you could beat at once?

Depends on the motherfuckin' sitch, bro.

[His eyes become suggestive slits, sliding a wayward glance towards the goblin. That was all he was gonna say on the matter unless prompted further. He was sure Stan could fill in the blanks himself if he really wanted to. He takes the bong gratefully, picking up the lighter that Stan had neglected to use and flicking it a few times to get a flame lit.]

Ah, ah, ah...!

[Just by holding the lighter, he could feel the singe of his skin through the plastic. A normal human wouldn't even bat an eye or feel any degree of discomfort, but being so close to something producing fire was enough to cause Gamzee's fingers and palm to sting with the pain of an oncoming burn. He always had to light his bowl lightning-quick and toss away the lighter before he himself caught fire.]

No worries to be fuckin' had, my most wickedest of motherfuckers, soon as us gangstas get this crib all smoked up, my friendly plant goop be gettin' toked enough to be all less clingy than all what's it fuckin' is now...

[In other words, smoke weakened the effects of Gamzee's sap. Blow a few lungfuls of the stuff against an epoxied surface, and it should get loose enough to be able to tug free. Or, just smoke a bunch in a room and let the smoke-filled air do the work for you. He settled back, sucking the smoke from the bong until a nice cloud of smoke build up in the chamber. Pulling his head back, he slapped his palm over the mouthpiece and turned to Stan.]

Cough, cough... Ain't motherfuckin' nothin' to write... goddamn home on, that's for... cough, cough... motherfuckin' sure... heh heh...

[Leaning forward, he grabbed the top of the Ziploc from the coffee table and tossed it towards the man's lap before uncovering the top of the bong, pulling the bowl, and cashing in on the rest of his hit.]

Gotta... pull the fuckers out by the goddamn bulb... cough, cough...

[He held his arms out for Stan to gaze upon. Green and freckled with white like the rest of him, only they were absolutely covered in pock marks, purple scabs, and tiny, new buds. To harvest his weed, he had to literally uproot the leaves from his skin. It was a messy, painful affair, but he had all of the painkillers he could ever hope for.]

Edited 2015-04-12 00:40 (UTC)

You gonna judge a brother for bein' a plant? Harsh, yo...

[He's grinning while he says it, though, folding his arms and leaning back against the tree to stare up the trunk again. Trippy.]

Uhh... huh?

[Focus, Gamzee. It took him a while to process what he'd just been asked, mainly because he was too absorbed in the way the hollow tree looked when you could see the sky out of the top of it. When Henry would undoubtedly repeat himself, Gamzee began to chew on one of his claws in consideration.]

Hmmn, uh, whoa, yo... dunno. Probably, like, all of them, for sure!

_{[Henry blinks at Gamzee sluggishly before letting his mouth hang open.]}

Woah.

_{[That was so many cops. Like. More than five. Maybe seven!]}

[ He adjusts his glasses and moves as close as the sap allows. Judging by the look of the nymphs arm harvest was a painful process. But in the place of that lost spawns new life, Stan raising his brows at the buds that sprout from green flesh. He can almost hear the bell of the gift shop register, thoughts of money awoken once more.

Leaning back into the couch, he inspects the bag in his lap and weighs it with his hand. There's enough crystal looking up at him to leave a man blind. And that’s the problem. Numbers crunching in his head, clouding his judgement and testing his will, the goblin feels greed slowly consume his thoughts. He never considered it, a man driven by money for years, but now he wonders… Had he always been so adamant about money? It felt like all he could ever think about these days, even with a head full of smoke.

Maybe is mind wasn’t as safe as he once thought.

Stan sits in silence, his face reflecting the deeper level of thought he's fallen to till Gamzee’s coughs brings him back. Only a nymph with a death wish kept a flame that close. Or an elderly fire-monster-thing for that matter. He gets the gist of Gamzee's words, though. He has to smoke his way to freedom. Sounds like a joke.

He doesn't look at Gamzee, his voice low and humourless when he speaks. ] You set yourself on fire yet? All that sap in you… Be a surprise you don’t explode. [ There's a beat, the elder holding that serious demeanor for a moment before he bursts into laughter. ]

[Gamzee didn't mind the silence. While Stan thought of deeper, more intellectual things, Gamzee's mind wandered with thoughts of dinner, of plants, and if elderly trolls ended up looking as ragged as their human counterparts apparently did.]

[Fortunately for Gamzee, his mind wasn't as clouded by his transformation as Stan's was. He wasn't obsessed with money, or trinkets, or anything that sparkled in the light. He was naturally drawn to all of those things, sure, but it wasn't an imposing obsession like it was with goblins - not that Gamzee had any idea about that. Stan was a savvy businessman, or, at least, he was as far as Gamzee was concerned. He also was a pretty decent guy, all things considered. He agreed to hang out and smoke with a brother, despite being sort of an ornery grouch about it. It was the thought that counted, and any sort of company was good company to Gamzee.]

Uhh, yeah... a lotta times, bro.

[He chuckled sheepishly, staring down at his budding arms. More often than not, they were covered in bandages from having burst into flames. If even one part of him touched fire, his limbs would light up instantly. He'd gotten pretty good about smothering them as quickly as possible, but it still left his skin black and charred and incredibly sensitive for the rest of the day. Monster healing took care of the burns pretty much overnight, so there was no trace of his "accident" the next morning.]

Ain't never been so 'fraid of nothin' in my motherfuckin' life now what that I am of some bitchass fire, now. Weak as fuckin' a shit-titted grubfucker, that noise all motherfucking is-- HONK!!

[Stan's sudden explosion of laughter startles the shit out of Gamzee, who practically jumps a few feet off of the couch before succumbing to a fit of giggles, himself. He cannot believe that sound just came out of that old man. Doubling over on himself, he clutched at his stomach and continued to wheeze out laughter that sounded much like a dying goose.]

[ Stan's not sure what to make of the words to leave the nymph's mouth. Something about shit-tits and being fearless, a statement Stan finds all the more amusing when proven otherwise. A large smile spread across his face, the goblin chuckles to himself and watches Gamzee slowly die of laughter. ]

That's funny.

[ Turning his attention back to the bag in his hand, Stan tucks it into his jacket and slides two bills onto the table. He feels... good. Really good. He can't seem to get this stupid grin off his face, the nymphs company becoming almost somewhat enjoyable, even if he doesn't understand half the things he says. Stan spares him a final glance. ]

If you die there I'm robbing you of everything but this couch. [ He's joking; he wouldn't take everything, just most of it.

Satisfied, the goblin closes his eyes and takes in a final breath of smoke before falling back into the the shadows. A thick, tar like substance crawls up through the couch and latches hold of him, slowly pulling him into darkness. It crawls up his body, consuming him form until nothing remains but a shadow in his place. The shadow slides down the couch and moves along the floor, stretching impossible bounds and twisting in ways Stan hadn't since the fifty's. It bumps into the table, the furniture shifting to the side on contact, and moves for the door. A perfect silhouette of the goblin forms on the wall, a clawed hand seen reaching for the keyhole before it slips through and disappears. ]

Edited 2015-05-29 03:27 (UTC)

[Beat glances back to the voice responding, pausing to look at the shit stature of the place]

Dude, yer s'posed to clean up once yer back.

[Sack squirming, Beat drags it further in so he can stand, then drags it along the floor and yeah it's making muffled pained noises as twigs and shit snag on him. One foots peeking out the top and kicking uselessly, even. Without so much a care, Beat drops the guy or girl or whoever he snagged into the hookah pit.]

Brought to you fuckin' fresh, man. [He ducks to miss a bird before it kamikaze's his head, frowning at it before joining Gamzee in the pit, flopping into the pillows. Then making a face to the dust and musty smell. Gross.]

[Without another word, Gamzee moved in a flash, tearing open the sack and fighting briefly with the struggling, panicking human before forcing their arms to the ground and shoving his head into the soft flesh of the person's throat. His razor-sharp fangs tore open their neck, filling the treehouse with screams and spurts of blood as it shot out of their carotid artery.]

[Soon, the screams were silenced, the flailing limbs stilled by the force of the vines restraining them, and the weakness the loss of blood afforded them. Gamzee was covered in blood opposite the color of his own, tearing literal chunks out of the corpse's neck, delighting in the warmth of the meat that had not yet left the body, and the feeling of the twitching veins still under his mouth.]

Edited 2015-07-01 05:40 (UTC)

[To be honest, the scene doesn't even bother Beat anymore. If anything, the scent of the blood makes his nose itch and his mouth water, his eyes narrowing as said blood begins to shoot from the ruined neck like a fountain. He makes a token effort to keep clean, grabbing a pillow out of the pile to hold it up, but all it does is leave a nice neat clean square on him. Thanks for that, Gamzee.

When the screams stop, Beat lowers the pillow and glances over it, huffing that Gamzee's finally chowing down and not just playing in the blood. Which Beat begins trying to wipe off of himself, tongue coming out to catch over stray bits on his arms or fingers, trying to clean his face as well.]

Shit, you coulda 'least turned him some other direction.

> Knock knock.
> Been a while, kiddo.
> You still selling or what?

hEYYYY,
sO, i,
i THINK THAT WHILE WE HAVE, *pROBABLY* BEEN VERY SUCCESSFUL AT AVOIDING EACH OTHER, aND,
pRETENDING THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN, iT IS NOT A FEASIBLE THING TO MAINTAIN,
jUST, gIVEN THE SIZE OF THE LOCATION WE ARE IN, aND,
hOW OFTEN OUR SOCIAL CIRCLES SEEM TO CROSS,
i ALSO, dON'T WANT TO KEEP AVOIDING YOU, aND,
iN FACT MIGHT FEEL QUITE THE OPPOSITE, sO,
uHHHH,
mESSAGE ME BACK, mAYBE,
iF YOU WANT TO TALK IN PERSON,

[Ugh. UGH. He's really fucking high, but not nearly high enough to begin dealing with this awful message. Gamzee's at home, in his usual spot by the hookah, puffing away at the fiery, ground-up pieces of himself. He picks the communicator up a few minutes after he gets the notification of Tavros' message, then spaces out a bit longer before he actually responds.]

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
WHAT.

[Another long pause before he types some more. He can hardly comprehend emotions on a good day, let alone as a plant monster baked out of his gourd.]

bro it be motherfuckin simple as all shit's titties to be getting my motherfuckin avoid on at peeps.
BUT AIN'T NO ONE IN THIS LEAFY CRIB MOTHERFUCKIN NOW.
save for yours fuckin truly.
IF THAT, EVEN.
hahahaha.
HONK.

[ That.

Seems like a bad idea. ]

oKAY,
i'M HEADING OVER,

long as i motherfuckin grow.
I MOTHER FUCKING SELL.
the fuck you after, motherfucker?

right the fuck onnn, my most confrontational of motherfuckers!

[He sends this just as Tavros reaches his doorstep. Listen, he's a busy guy. He can't respond to everyone at the drop of a nug-sheathing garment. When he spots an even lankier boy cross his threshold, his face lights up, as if he's completely forgotten the reason for their meeting or the circumstances preceding it. And that's because he has.]

Yooo, brother! That maternal motherfucking planet spirit all quit raining her ass down on us little bitches, yet?

[He speaks in sort of a singsong, obviously having a sincere appreciation for Mother Nature and whatever rainstorm she had plagued this night with. His pupil-less eyes searched Tavros for signs of the continuous storm, but he soon lost track of his own train of thought and just ended up staring at his friend for no real reason.]

[ He's not sure why he wanted to do this on such a dark and stormy night. He's not... sure why he's doing a lot of things lately, if he's being honest with himself. The rain felt nice, it felt sort of... clarifying. Good. Like the hours and hours he spent sitting by running water, digging his hooves in the mud but not daring to go in himself. ]

A little, uh... I'll just, wring our my hair, before, I go in...

[ He takes the hunks of wild, snarly hair and squeezes a river of water out. Ignoring Gamzee's stare at first because he can't bring himself to look at him, then because he doesn't know where else to look or what else to do.]

No need, yo. No motherfuckin' need...

[His face was still fixed in the familiar, sleepy grin he always used to wear. For some reason, watching Tavros wring his long locks out, watching the downpour of water fall and splash in a variety of streams onto his porch was so fascinating to Gamzee. He could watch that kid wring his shitty horse mane out all fucking night.]

Ain't no stickler for mother fucking no hoity-toity manners and such noise like what's all that fuckin' is.

[He laughed dreamily, waving a spindly hand at the current state of his house as further proof.]

You come here to get your righteous smoke on, my bro?

[ Mm. He scratches a hoof against the back of his leg, worrying his sharp teeth against his lip.

But he can't help but be relaxed. When Gamzee's like this, it's just easy. A reminder of way better times. ]

No, I came to talk. About, uh... What happened, when, we couldn't stop telling the truth.

> You kiss your mother with that mouth, kid? Yeesh.
> Nothing baked this time, I got company and I don't want anyone sticking their paws in my product.
> You feel me?
> Oh and while we're talking about it, you grow anything else?
> Aside from the leaf.
> Fungi, maybe?

[His face screws up a bit as he tries to recall when exactly Tavros was talking about. There's a dramatic shift as his expression goes from thoughtful to reluctant, and it's clear when the memory finally dawns on him.]

Oh. Uh...

[Chuckling nervously, Gamzee holds up his forefinger, signaling for Tavros to "hang on a sec" while he raises the hookah hose to his mouth and takes another hit off of it. The bubbles from the device are the only thing breaking the silence between them, other than the rain against his shabby roof.]

A brother need another motherfuckin' breather before he all get up to spinnin' verse on fuckin' that unfun noise. Heh.

[He pats a spot of pillows next to him, inviting Tavros into his corner of absent morals.]

Spill, my motherfucker.

[ It's so easy like this. There's no looming threat behind that face, no worry that the casual wave of his hand is going to go somehow awry. Tavros isn't used to being afraid of Gamzee -- or anyone, really. Fear stopped being a thing after death, some distant memory that he had trouble reconnecting with.

Now, it was all too real. ]

Okay, well...

[ He twists his long fingers together, biting the inside of his cheek as he struggles to find the proper words, hesitating just a fraction longer before he carefully lowers himself into Gamzee's mess of pillows. ]

Well, I think, that... you definitely, violated my trust, and also a body, that was technically mine, in a way that is, definitely going to take some time to repair. The trust, that is. I, sort of think that body is probably exploded now? Or at least, definitely in worse shape than the one that I currently have.

I, also think that maybe due to the forced honesty and, how it was affected by our personal views, at that time, that maybe it wasn't the whole truth, and we need to talk about it. Maybe, not all at once, but, a little bit.

[ He flounders for a second. ]

And, I think you're right. When you said I wasn't the same troll either, I, sort of haven't thought about it a lot... A lot of time, has passed for me but, it was comparatively short compared to what was happening within the confines of the ship. And that means, a lot happened. Some, good... A lot, not so good. And, I think that what I said is also true, that, I keep letting things happen to me, or, just reacting when they do... And I don't think that's a good thing, especially, given what has happened to me in the past, and, uh...

[ He shifts, knotting his fingers tighter together. ]

I don't think that, running away is a good plan, anymore... So, now, I think maybe you should talk, because this is as far as I got, when, I was planning this in my head.

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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, GAMZEE MAKARA. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 420.42.042.04 * G-MAK has joined 420.42.042.04 <G-MAK> YO, MY RIGHTEOUS BROTHERS AND GODDAMN BITCHES. <G-MAK> if you all is wanting to be all placing at a mother fucking order with me. <G-MAK> LEAVE AT A BROTHER SOME WICKED FUCKING TEXTUALS. <G-MAK> oh and another motherfuckin thing. <G-MAK>** SEXTS IS ALWAYS FUCKIN WELCOME. ;o) ▉