DISCLAIMER:This is a fanfic. On fanfic . net. I obviously don't own what im writing about. ty

= be the pale asshole
You are now the pale asshole commonly referred to as KARKAT VANTAS. You are a LOUDMOUTH ALBINO with plenty of ISSUES and PROBLEMS. Your interests are CODING, ROMCOMS, and making sure Strider doesn't fuck up the favor you asked of him.

"Are you absu-fucking-lutely sure you know what the hell you're doing? Because I swear to God Strider I will tear you a new asshole if you fuck up."

"For the hundredth time asshole, I know what I'm doing so chill. Who do you think does my hair? Seriously, shut up and let me finish." You ponder this as the silver haired teen behind you massages the stinky dye into your hair. Honestly, you had figured the asshole went to a hair salon or something. For once, you are glad your hair is already whiter than any bleach job your friends had ever managed. Especially Dave with his naturally dark ass hair. Lucky fucker. You'd never understand why he'd intentionally dye his hair silver. Or how he manages it actually, now that you think about it.

"Yeah, yeah whatever, just hurry up my neck is getting sore." Your voice cracks slightly and you can feel the disgusting gathering of blood in your cheeks called a blush. Fuck puberty and fuck your hideously pale skin you think. From behind you, you hear Dave chuckle in the disgustingly smug way of his. Oh what you would give to introduce his nose to your scrawny fist. Unfortunately you have the sense to know that the dirt sniffing bastard would either kick your ass in retaliation or tell on you. Either way, you'd be left with your hair only half dyed and not even breaking the asshole's nose is worth going out in public like that. Damn.

"Want some cheese with that whine bro? Stop being a little bitch about it. Almost done anyways." You can feel it in your soul that he just rolled his eyes at you, and more than anything his deep, drawling voice just pisses you off more. Lucky bastard skipping pretty much all the bad parts of puberty. It occurs to you that you've never seen a single zit on the dumbass's face, nor has his voice ever squeaked like yours has been the last few months. You call bullshit and decide that Nature probably thought his ass was his face and put zits all over his. Damn you are hilarious. If you weren't certain Egbert would get all sparkly 'bromance' bonding on you about it, you could totally be a comedian. Alas, Egbert is an annoying hyper shit for brains. Looks like you'll just stick with your brilliantly written novels.

As you contemplate your career choices and Dave's (probably) pimple covered ass, Dave finishes putting the dye in your hair and covers your head in a shower cap. You almost miss the feeling of his gloved fingers in your hair. Almost. Your freaky red-pink eyes follow him when he leaves to rinse his gloves and trash them. His ass probably has so many fucking zits. There's no way karma is that much of a bitch.

Though you would rather not think about how you wouldn't mind taking a look. In fact, you bury the thought so deep down you honestly aren't sure it existed in the first place. You're certain that won't come bite you in the ass someday. Definitely.

It is Dave's bare foot prodding your face that knocks you out of your thoughts and right into a hissy fit of debatably small proportion. For you anyways.

"I know I'm too sexy for words but for reals short-stack, the quiet is starting to creep me out. What's up?"

It takes you a moment to puzzle out what the hell he's talking about but you eventually realize what he means. You'd been unusually quiet. Granted you're not exactly a chatterbox like Peixes or Serket once they get started but you're no mute either.

"Nothing is up shitlord. What, it's illegal to think now? Is my silence worrying you Strider? Oh boo hoo I'm a cool kid and I can't handle going 10 seconds without some numbnut singing my praises boo fucking hoo." Honestly, you annoy the shit out of yourself sometimes.

"C'mon don't be a dick dude." Well don't go fucking around in people's business douche bag, you think. You can feel his mild glare, even with the sunglasses in the way. It makes the hairs on you neck stand on end. Fucking creep.

"No seriously shut the fuck up and mind your own business." Oh boy, you see his face twitch in irritation and know he's about to shove his nose to far up your business it'll come out the other end if you don't stop him. You go to brush it all off but before you can say a word the asshole interrupts you.

"Dude, first of all you're being a little brat. Second of all I'll mind whatever business I damn well please. Does this have to do with your sudden desire to dye your hair? Talk or I'm calling you know who." Oh fuck.

"You wouldnt." He would and you know it.

"Oh I so fucking would." And there's that smug ass smirk that pisses you off to no end.

"There's nothing to even talk about you fucking ass!" His hand goes to his pocket.
"Wait! Fuck...seriously there's nothing I just wanted to color my hair and I was just thinking shit head." He pulls out his cell phone. "You're an asshole." You see his brow rise up and his whole body screams arrogant smug asshole. His entire gross, annoying, stupidly attractive body. Which you did not have that thought about. In fact, what thought? You don't know and you don't care.

"See? Right there you're doing it again, man. So what the fuck dude?" Doing what?, you wonder angrily. You scrunch your nose like he just farted in your face , and scowl up at him. Way, way, way up. It is made apparent to even your stubborn mind that he is stupidly tall compared to you, and with him standing over you while you're still sitting on his bedroom floor, he's a damn giant to you. He could easily wrap his arms around you, but he'd have to bend down to do it. Not that you would ever want him to and-oh. That's what he means. Your face is hot from your blush and you are quite certain you are making a strange face though you'd have to look in a mirror to know what it looks like. How embarrassing.

"Th-thats not- it doesn't concern- what I mean is- just, uhg, you know what fuck you Strider I ain't saying jack shit about anything to you and I swear on my left testicle that if you call her I will shit in you coffee. I fucking serious meathead, I know you know I'm am completely serious right now. I. Will. Shit. In. Your. Fucking. Coffee."

"You're fucking gross man" Strider's face crumples in disgust at your threat and some strange way you feel satisfied. You did that. Congratulations you plowed your way through a teenager's poorly constructed stoic mask on the merit of your left testicle and a (literally) shitty coffee. A golden star sticker awaits you in the afterlife. You did it.

You may have some issues, you admit to yourself reluctantly.

Instead of responding, you glare at him until he sighs and puts the phone back in his pocket. A long stretch of silence follows. Twenty minutes of you glaring silently at the floor a timer goes off in the room, telling you to rinse the nasty smelling shit out of your hair. As you stand and shuffle into Dave's bathroom with your change of clothes you feel him staring after you.

Awkward.

Hello dear readers. Glad to be back! I want any of you coming back to know that I am definitely working of In Room 306 ok? No worries. Anyways, this was inspired by me dying my hair by myself for the first time. (woo gold star sticker 4 u Rosie) Its pink btw whoo whoot look forward to another chapter of this soon-ish