I'll burn this whole city down… for you
And our family's can't agree
I'm your brother's sworn enemy.
But…
Dave wandered the dimly-lit corridors of 2 a.m. Signless manor. It was a familiar journey, from his dorm to the kitchen down the hall, none of those skeevy stairs to –
"Fuck."
The boy slunk right through the first step and foot-fell a few feet more down.
He forgot about those stairs.
"Mornin' much?" He had found his footing again at the bottom of the rather narrow staircase, and was now faced with something perhaps even skeevier.
The clanking of brass on metal rang out statically. "Sup SpiderBitch." The woman at the bottom of the stairs gave him no satisfaction in taking offense at such an amorous pet name. Not even a flinch. At any rate, she held the upper hand. The upper, brass-knuckle laden hand. A walking contradiction, if only she was walking, the spider bitch was stirring a pot of what looked like pancake batter attired in a big blue box-cut tee, orange shorts, and brass knuckles. Four on each hand, a total of eight.
Shit, she treats those things like they were shot out of jesus' metaphoric asshole. It's a bad caliber of Irony.
Dave took his thoughts to the table, where he spotted a fuming fuckass with a cherry coke in his left and a silent, hunched over boy with a shot of red-bull out in front of him.
"Rise and gogfuckin' shine, morning crow. I hope you're irony or what the fuck ever can figure out that sarcasm, 'cos I'm in no mood for daft word infidelities."
"Oh lord allmanly, what forest's found it's way up your ass now, Karkat?"
"The High and mighty tightwad blood's fucking forest. That's the fuck who. I refuse to believe that you, as unhealthily time-obsessed as you are, forgot that we have to cross try-hard turf today. The dealie. Yeah, you remember that shit? That's today. And frankly, the way you pay your due respects to the occasion is quite flattering. Waking up shouldn't be a 2 hour job, Fuckass, so dress your ass up pretty for the royal flutter-rumps and I'll fuckin' lead us through. Alright?"
I'm not surprised news of endangered species is all that's soliciting sweet space on our network. Karkat's got all the fucking forests up his ass. All of them. And the vile ass stench is probably knocking them extinct one by one.
"Yeah, sure, what the fuck ever. I got it. You want a side of dry ice for those tits, sir?"
The addressee turned a haughty lip and took to sulking away into another room, mug in hand.
"I'm not handing out charity fucks here! Just make dicking choppy with that order, Strider!" He shouted over his shoulder, out the door.
"He's in a, uh, pretty good mood today, I think. You definitely, um, know how to cheer him up, Dave."
Dave bent a concerned brow beneath the safety shield of his glasses. He could care. Unlike Karkat, he could care. Beneath those shades he could care, that is.
"Yeah Bro, that's fucking quality mood Vantas for you." The blonde sidestepped the octo-bitch with bowl in hand, and made way for the more important of the trio. He stopped to sling his weight behind his chair and ran his usual hand through the boy's shaggy, half-shaved head.
He knew this morning routine, if only this simple little privilege, took some of the world off the other's shoulders.
"Oh you guys sicken me, that boy's piiiiiiiiissed and you all know it. Heh, it's sort of cute actually."
The owner of the sauntering voice found her way through the bustle of the kitchen. Contradicting the lone kitchen, stood forgotten cardboard boxes, glass bottles of past spirits, the common household rubble that made the neater members of the household throw their multi-colored shades down in disgust.
"Here, Tavvy, bon appetite." She flaunted the second-hand French she absorbed from watching her cheesy Nic Cage flicks.
"I served up another dose of eggs for you. Protein irons in the fire, and what not. You'll be sure to wear the lucky bands I made for you for the fight today, right?"
The statement was just that, a statement. She wasn't asking.
"I… uh! Sis, er, Vris, you know I don't really want…Well, I mean, I think, I don't really want to-"
"What kid-brother says holds fucking truth, Vriska. You know, as much as I absolutely love seeing Tav's ass get handed to him, today I'm making damn sure that no one's starting any shit as long as we can help our civil asses. I'll save a fight for that clownmosexual if I see him though. Hate that fucking bro doucher."
Vriska tried to hide her disappointment by pursing her lips, instead dividing her attention between the two and the bowl of batter still in hand. You could see the eclectic, mis-matched, diabolic gears turning.
"…. Here, Tavvy, try!" There again, the statement method reared it's ugly head as she shoved the splintery batter spoon into his mouth.
"Nngh!"
" Yeah, I get it. If there's no fight outside, then there can be fucking chick fits in here, no. Tav doesn't wanna fight and that's final. To hell with all, I'm not letting a fucking stub on his toe come to happen. That's my word, and my word's law because unfortunately the whole parent marriage thing doesn't come with a free dosage of steaming step-sibling-power."
A rant later about comparative authorities involving sheriffs, the po-po, and government, and Vriska decided to have her two cents in. She went for a whole eight though.
" Shut your noise chute, Strider, you're not gonna keep his ass on a leash forever y'know. He has to leeeeeeeearn to fight eventually! Fight! Fight Tavvy! That's what you want, right? Do you want to fight?"
The spoon was pulled back just conveniently to allow Vriska's point to be proved, or else.
"I….. No. I really don't want to fight anymore."
Dave shrugged with as much fake devil-may-care as he could muster, pretending Tav's word, proving him right, didn't matter at all. However, he couldn't hide the cocky grin and arms folded behind his head that read: "Hey, Kid don't wanna fuckin' fight. What're you gonna do? Go cry about it, spider bitch."
'I've been fighting my whole life. For the right reason. This, this is, definitely not the right reason.'
Author's Notes:
Hells yes, enter the swwaggin' wwagon. And who other than the lowwbloods as the royal passengers? Or maybe... /not/ so royal heheh. Unfortunately, there's a lot of privvy v.i.p to that particular wagon :O Especially for spidery bitches.
ANYWHORE. I'm surprised with the attention this junk got! c:
THANK YOU, REVIEWS ARE mIRAcLeS~
