Aussie B. Lemming

Greetings, Salutations, and what-the-fuck-ever readers! Welcome to the fan-based co-op story between myself and Eren! I am one of the Delightfully-Demented-Duo, Aussie B. Lemming, but feel free to call me Aussie or Lem. : ) Before-hand, I would like to thank you for joining us during this little trip into our self-amusement and madness. I would like to help emphasize what Ere said about the rating. -Cough-M-Endcough- AND, underline and circle our username, juuuust for emphasis. In this story thing, I will primarily be role playing the beloved young subjuggulator, Gamzee Makara. So fun times and pie for all. : ) If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask! BUT, expect the answers to sometimes be a bit vague. Don't want to give away the story now, do we. ;3


They often told him multiple times what a completely idiotic idea it had been. The thing was a death trap, dangerous to average troll and human kind on good days. He was different, though in the opinion of his small group of friends, that made it worse. And in the words of one particularly dark-violet blooded individual, "Nah, do it. It'll make death easier ta find ya wit t'e giant sign sayin' 'Come fuck my slime DRIPPED SKULL WIT YER SCYTHE!" Ah, you just had to love the support of friends. Though he knew what they had been saying, and understood their concerns but it was just something that had not been negotiable. After all, he had already bought the damned thing. Everyone had considered it a blessing that after a full sweep, he had not had a single accident. Whenever they would inquire, usually sarcastically, how he had not wrecked yet. He always had only one thing to say.

Miracles.

Even now, he sat on the purring, perfectly in-tact mechanical beast as it rumbled at a comfortable idle beneath him. Waiting patiently for the bossy red light to nap and release the green giver from its temporary rest. It growled a few times in earnest, as long fingers twisted at its handles, urging it to stay focused. Around them, integrated pedestrians of troll and human spared occasional glances, the cars behind him and to his left impatient to get moving. Then finally, the color changed, and the lean motorcycle snarled to life, front wheel lifting inches from the ground in its haste, before dropping carefully back to the pavement. The driver hugged close to the two-wheeled vehicle, leaning with the cage-less device as he swerved between cars. One knee nearly touched the pavement as a sharp left turn was taken, voice filtering with laughter at the annoyed honks of irritated automobiles. One last swerve, the wheels straightening, and then there was brief open road, then there was freedom.

The wind clung in jealousy to the flimsy hoodie he wore, the unzipped coat whipping violently as those streams of air tried to hold on to him. Faster he went, the city's colors blurring into blobs of earth tones and sunlight, until he nearly missed his turn, the eager hum of the motor quickly dying as gravity and a slight application of brakes, allowed the world around him to come back into focus in time to make another turn.

Then, it had appeared before him. It was somewhat intimidating really, the large, well-kept buildings, evenly cut grass, and fancily decorated gates. The protective line of brick and fence that corralled the small realm of education, was built high, adding in to the whole awe factor. Along with the large bold letters that proudly stated, 'Skaia University'.

The driver, a troll with tall twisting horns that pointed proudly towards the sky, slowed his motorcycle to a crawl as he turned towards the campus parking lot, hopping up on an empty space of side-walk momentarily to dodge a slow puffing car, before slipping back onto the road. He passed between building, around pedestrians, until arriving to the parking lot. A narrow parking spot was claimed, a kick stand was kicked, and the vehicle put to sleep. The helmet-less rider stood, giving a small stretch, before pocketing his keys and walking as casually across the school grounds as if he had been there all of his sweeps. Though his searching indigo framed eyes gazing from one side to another at blurry shaped building numbers and names would have been a subtle give-a-way to his lack of presence here. Not to mention that after only two minutes he stopped a passing female human who had been rather occupied with her phone, and asked, "Hey bitchtits, where's the motherfuckin' signing in counter?" ... He found the main desk, but was nursing a heated cheek from the violent slap the human had given him. The troll occasionally forgot how sensitive to be called certain things humans could be.

Speaking of which, another female human sat silently behind her self-important desk, clicking lazily at her computer screen as she seemed to be skimming through a list of sorts. The indigo iris male was understandably cautious as he stepped silently forward at first, hands fumbling in coat pockets for the wrinkled envelope, until he came to an awkward stand before her And was promptly ignored. They stayed like this, in that uneasy silence, before carefully the troll tried to lean from one side to the other, attempting to get her attention. He even did a small wave, which resulted in zero response. His face twisted up in silent confusion for a moment, before he placed the envelope on the marble surface, braced his hands there, and leaned over the counter precariously on his abdomen, before, "Pst, desk human."

The woman turned and quite frankly, nearly flipped the fuck out at the troll with the clown painted face mere inches from her own. A small squeak escaped from her lips as she jerked violently backwards, and stared aghast with eyes as big as an owls. The troll simply smiled in triumph at finally getting her attention, before hopping off the counter and waving his wrinkled note towards her, "I'm here to fuckin' get checked in and keyed up, this the place for such happenings?" The human's shock, soon turned to barely contained rage as she snatched his note from him without a word, and silently tore open the paper. Rather quickly, her eyes darted over the page, before she dug through the envelopes on her desk, "Gamzee Makara, you will be in building 205, room 8. Building 205 is just outside the campus on the west side." And then she slammed one manila envelope containing his room keys and other university information on the counter, and hastily turned away.

Unaffected, Gamzee flipped the parcel between his fingers, thanked her, and went to find his mentioned room.

Humming to himself, the Capricorn made his way, slow and steady in the general direction he was told to go. Those that saw him only spared a glance, though those that had known him in his youth may have been taken back. Gamzee had grown. The troll now towered over nearly everyone, standing at a solid six feet, two inches, and that wasn't including his horns. His too-thin limbs had filled out to contain deceptively lean muscle, shoulders broadening and over all body solidifying as a result of the fights trolls his age and cast frequently engaged in. That crazy twisting, curl of a jungle he called his hair, still weeded out in every direction, though had the appearance that it had actually been somewhat trimmed. How anyone managed such a feat though, would be considered a grave mystery. The boots he wore when riding his motorcycle, thumped heavily, if not slightly uneven, against the pavement. Though he had long since grown out of wearing polk-a-dot pants, there were still sings of his spiritual beliefs besides his face; decorated over the shirt beneath his hoodie, and the spotted bracelets on his arms. Little else had changed with the young Highblood physically.

Mentally however, was a whole other juggling act.

Ducking through the doors to 205 so that his horns would not slam into the top of the doorway, Gamzee maneuvered carefully through the halls, glancing up and down as he searched for the circular number written on the lightly held envelope. A quick glance at a clown-faced watch, warned him that he needed to hurry if he was going to meet some friends on time in front of the Math and Sciences building. But man, he was really starting to get the urge to just explore. There were so many things, so many places for beautiful little secrets to hide. A buzz from one pants pocket temporarily distracted him as he turned down a hall, flipping open the screen and holding back a smile at the message that glared back at him in dark-violet tint,

TR: IF YoU ForgeT TO MeeT US,, I SweaR I WilL LeT ValuS TesT HeR ShittY ''CureS'' ON YoU!

TC: DoN't wOrRy bRo, i gOt mY MeMoRy sTiLl tUnEd tO ThE MeEt uP. :o)

TR: YoU BetteR!

He just smiled at the quick response, passing door after door, even slipping by one rather short-sized individual in his search. Before, quite shortly after, those flickering eyes paused on the big black number nailed to a door, reflecting the symbol on his packet. That grin grew with satisfaction, the grease painted grin spreading the action even further, as he leaned against the door frame, lazily peeling open the packet, before a jingle caused his frayed attention to slip to one side towards his neighbor.

Hazed irises blinked at a shape that whispered familiarity into his mind. Though this shape was slightly different, and from this angle, it only somewhat resembled the image in his clouded memory. "You up and need some help best friend?" Gamzee froze, as the words that had fallen so easily from his lips caught up to him. At first, he had not realized he'd spoken, but the content of that short sentence caused the Capricorn's brows to wrinkle in shock. Wait Karkat? That was impossible.