Familiar Senses[pre-Sgrub Alternia]
Your name is Karkat Vantas and you need your moirail/ flush crush right now.
Right fucking now.
You have just woken up from a horrible nightmare due to your irresponsibility of not sinking into the neon-green sopor slime of your recuperacoon. It was the same one you always had, first the bloody imps attacking you and then being chained up like The Signless. Then you had to watch your much higher-blooded best friend be tortured right in front of your eyes. They whipped him, bludgeoned him, gouged his eyes, anything imaginable to make you scream in despair. This stupid recurring story was what made the dark circles under your eyes stay and get darker with each passing sleepless night.
You grab your dark purple smartphone and open Trollian. He's always up; eating the slime did enough to give him energy and keep nightmares away. So he rarely slept. You tap on his handle and begin trolling your fiend.
Your name is Gamzee Makara and you can hear your phone making some wicked noise.
It woke you up out of your miraculous meditation, which you aren't too happy about, but whatever. If the mirthful messiahs made it happen, there's no arguing, and it had to be some kind of important thing if they caused it. You lazily lift your arm to the nightstand and fumble around a bit before grabbing the rectangular object. You smile as you see who has been trolling you.
It is your palebro and flush crush Karkat Vantas. Motherfucker made flowers bloom in the darkest parts of your mind and make all kinds of bloody, violent subjugglator thoughts leave your thinkpan. If not for him, your disgusting ancestor's spirit would have made the effects of the slime wear off within seconds and have your purple blood coarse rapidly through your veins, and you'd have killed probably hundreds of innocent trolls for no reason. You don't like the thought of your ancestor hurting people for no reason. It wasn't right and you don't like being feared because of your heritage of subjugglator blood.
You tap his name and enter the chat.
terminallyCapricious[TC] began trolling carcioGeneticist[CG].
CG: GAMZEE
CG: FUCKING JUGGA-TRASH CLOWN ANSWER ME
TC: HeY mOtHeRfUcKeR
TC: wHaT's AlL uP aNd HaPpEnInG? :o)
CG: I HAD ANOTHER FUCKING NIGHTMARE.
CG: BUT IT WAS THE SAME ONE AS ALWAYS.
Oh yeah. the motherfuckin' night terrors. He told you they were just about these things called imps, but you have a feeling that there was something else to them that he isn't telling you about. It sort of bothers you that he won't tell you, you are moirails after all. But it took the motherfucker months to even tell you his blood color. You see why it took so long, though. You had your subjugglator blood and he was a mutant. Of course he was afraid to tell you, for fear of being culled. You didn't mind though, most of your friends were mid/lowbloods. You just think that other highbloods are stuck-up, prejudiced, hemophobic assholes. Like Eridan. Feferi was cool though, and she told you that when she became queen, she would put an end to torturing mutantbloods. You think that's pretty motherfuckin' miraculous. You continue chatting with your friend.
TC: AwW bRo :o(
TC: Do YoU nEeD mE tO cOmE oVeR fOr A mOtHeRfUcKiN fEeLiNgS jAm?
CG: YOU KNOW WHAT
CG: SURE
CG: THAT WOULD PROBABLY FUCKING HELP.
TC: AlRiGhT mOHeRfUcKeR
TC: i'M cOmInG oVeR rIgHt NoW
TC: sEe Ya SoOn :o)
terminallyCapricious[TC] ceased trolling carcioGeneticist[CG].
Your name is Karkat Vantas and you are staring blankly at your phone screen. Your moirail is on his way to your hive right now. You are lying on the couch and still shaking a bit from your dream. You hate yourself for putting him through this, he has to have something better to do every day or night. It seems to take no time at all for him to arrive at your respiteblock, and there's no hello, just long, angled arms wrapped around you in a what seemed all-too-pale embrace. You long for something more with him, something red and romantic like in all the movies you watch, but you fear losing him if you ever confess your feelings towards him. There's no way in hell that someone as blood-blessed as him could feel that way towards a disgusting mutant like you. You are meant to be hated and looked down upon, especially by the fuschias and purples.
In two seconds you both are sitting on the pillow pile, just talking. You have cried a couple of times tonight, and he has seen your tired, glassy eyes and heard your revolting hiccups twice as well. It doesn't help when he looks at you with an expression that tells you that his blood pusher is shattered into a thousand sharp, stabbing pieces, and that makes you cry once more, but this time, instead of leaving you be, he quickly wraps you both is a gray blanket and you are sobbing into his chest, which you know is making the fragments of his blood pusher break themselves into even smaller pieces, burrowing themselves deeper into his flesh. You will yourself to stop staining his shirt with your disgrace of vital fluid, and only end up thinking about how disgusting you are and bawling more, hyperventilating this time. Then he is gently running one hand through your hair and the other is rubbing your back, and he's shooshing you and telling you it's okay, you're okay, everything is okay and he's here and you don't need to cry anymore. Your breathing slows over time and you feel yourself finally calming down.
Your name is Gamzee Makara and you feel horrible.
You have just witnessed your best bro and recipient of red feelings cry and sob and bawl right in front of you. It breaks your "heart" to see him like this. You've seen him cry before, but never this much. You don't know how to make it better, and you feel so inadequate that you could cull yourself. But somehow, you shooshed him enough so that his breathing is back to normal and the only thing left is the occasional stray hiccup left from crying. You feel him nuzzle even more into you. He's too motherfuckin' cute for his own good. You feel a sudden need to provide affection but you know he is red for someone else, probably your kismesis, Terezi. Gog, do you hate that teal bitch. But you can't think of her right now, your moirail needs you. You reach down to cup his cheek and lift his head up so he is looking straight at you. "Hey, bro," you say. "You up and motherfuckin' alright now?"
He waits for a few seconds before nodding. "Y-yeah," he says quietly. You think you see a slight blush on his cheeks, but you're not quite sure.
Your name is Karkat Vantas and you feel hot.
Your moirail is currently cupping your face in his cold hands and it feels as if maybe, just barely, he is placing one toe inside matesprit territory. Moirails can shooshpap each other's faces, but affectionately holding one another's face was usually not the case. You are blushing like mad, which is probably the cause of you sudden awareness of the temperature. At this point in time you feel surrounded by Gamzee Makara. You can smell his sweet-sopor aroma that's always with him, see his untamable jet-black hair and annoying-yet-handsome juggalo makeup, hear him breathing quietly, and the only thing missing is the taste of his lips on yours. Your senses are all too familiar right now.
You can't believe you are thinking these things, because now you have involuntarily leaned in a bit closer to him.
Your name is Gamzee Makara and you feel completely filled with your moirail Karkat Vantas.
You can smell his strawberry scent, see his dark brown-auburn hair, hear him shifting closer to you, and the only thing you aren't experiencing at the moment are his lips on yours. Your senses seem too familiar for your liking. You lean in closer than he has, destroying the distance between you with a kiss. You make it as red as possible without going over the edge. He settles into you a bit, and it seems as though he is comfortable and enjoying what's happening.
Your name is Karkat Vantas and you can't believe what's happening. You have never been so happy in your life. You have been kissed by Gamzee before, but just pale and on the forehead, and that did nothing to quell your raging flush for him. Apparently he feels the same as you, for this is not pale, not one sliver lighter or darker than red. You feel all the dread from the previous hours gone and you feel tired and full of energy at the same time, and you love it. He pulls away too soon, much too soon it is gone, and you look at him hopefully.
"Gamzee, i think you already fucking know what I am going to say, but…" you trail off. "Yeah, I have a fucking flush crush on you." You look away, embarrassed still, but you manage to crack a small smile. He smiles back with the ear-to-ear, lazy wideness like always and says, "Yeah. motherfucker, me too."
Your name is Gamzee Makara and you could not be happier. Your moirail has just confessed to you that your red feelings are returned, and you feel bad for not telling him sooner. But you're happy that it is like this now anyway, because the messiahs have smiled down on you and given you a good time. You grab his chin and pull him up once more for a small peck. "Be my matesprit?" you ask hopefully. He smiles up at you, the happiest he has ever looked. "Sure," he says, leaning back into your chest, your synchronized breathing lulling you both off to sleep the night away.
~The End.~