The Land of Subway and Tea.
The Land of Subway and Tea.


The Land of Subway and Tea.

Capricorn SpaceCadet.
Guitar's always tuned.
Seagoats.

SeNd A mOtHeRfUcKiNg MeSsAgE

Your name is Gamzee Makara and you twenty-three years of age and are currently attending college in New York. You share a studio apartment with your BEST FRIEND and fuckbuddy KARKAT in Brooklyn, you also share a bed with him because MONEY is really tight right now and RENT is expensive. To make ends meet you are often found BUSKING with your guitar by the subway station or playing some sick basslines in a LAME COVERBAND. You have many interests such as GETTING STONED, WRITING SONGS and WRITING SONGS WHILE STONED. You are REALLY PRETTY AWFUL at relationships, in fact you end up accidentally hurting those close to you all for the sake of sucking some SWEET FACE. That's cool though, because no one has filed any complaints... Yet.

[[4Chords RP blog, and Sideblog of @FAYGOPONGCHAMPION. 4chords is Miss Hu's, and Gamzee is still Hussie's. <3
Part of 4chords RP!!

Contents probably will entail to be NSFW..BEHOLD THE PORN!]
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26/8/11

==>Gamzee: Make breakfast for a disgruntled Karkat.

crabbyinsomniac:

 As soon as he places his palm on your forehead, you know the jig is up. You’re not really sure why you thought you’d be able to lay back on top of him without him noticing that you’re burning up (a shiver passes through you, because fuck, you still don’t feel like you’re too hot.) It still catches you somewhat by surprise when he tries to tell you you’ll be turning in early.

“What? Fuck off, Gam, It’s still early and I’ve got way too much shit to do. TA posted on the forums the other day to say he found an exploitable stack overflow error in Typheus, that asshole. He fucking knew I was looking into that. Now I have to find some other browser to fuck with and start all over.”

You can’t win him over with logic- you’ve only had a couple hours of sleep, you’re already yawning, and you may or may not be very slightly ill. The best you can hope for is to bewilder him enough with your techno-babble that he gives in to avoid a headache.

Not that you need his permission of course, strictly speaking. It’s just that over the years, Gamzee seemed to have grown accustomed to having to watch out for your physical well-being, as well as fighting you every step of the way. You’d never taken very good care of yourself, and he’d always been way too nice of a friend to just leave you to it.

Still, though, you are petulant and slightly bratty at the best of times, and well-meant as his intentions may be, you are having none of it. You start to pull away. You’re actually really goddamn comfortable and half of your brain is kicking the other half for even thinking about moving. But the film is three quarters of the way over already, and you have no intention of going to sleep for another four hours at least, the state of your health be damned.

To that end, you fully intend to go grab a Rockstar from your secret stash at the back of the fridge, for more or less the exact opposite of the purpose the Nyquil was meant for. Sometimes you can be a little contrary, just for the sake of it. What else is new.

He wasn’t as stubborn when he was younger, even if by a hair. You grip around one of his slim wrists to gently lead him back to you, not tugging or pulling with force, but trying to get him to look at you. You plead ‘stay' with your eyes, because you will fight him on this. For fuck’s sake he’s sick and you will have none of that. The instinct to mother him is an old one, lest we forget who took him under their wing when they left home.

 Suddenly you’re taken way back, kicking it oldschool with a fleeting thought of a memory. 

When you met Karkat he was barely scratching the surface of sixteen years old, you felt like the biggest fuckin’ pedophile for being charmed by the runaway’s ‘I don’t need anything, fuck off’ attitude and how tiny he was. He didn’t talk much, but had the most lively eyes. He was essentially the lost kitten who followed you home. You fed him and he became your pet, your responsibility. He was bonded to you in friendship as soon as you extended an hand with a crumb of food palmed in it; Or in this case a hot chocolate and a raspberry scone. Of course he’d come back after that chance meeting, they always come back when you feed them. You exchanged phone numbers and he called.

He moved in and not much has changed since then. Of course other than both of you aging slightly; You grew into your lankiness, learned to trip over your feet less. He stretched vertically; finding slight, sinewy muscles. Whipcord strung on his small frame, albeit forever childlike because you can still rest your chin on top of his head. 

"It can wait."

He’s right about you not giving a fuck to decipher his tech lingo. Again though, taking a break for one night won’t kill him. Plus, getting worked up over some nerd on the internet couldn’t be good for his fever.

"All I’m askin’ is for you to rest for one night. You’re free to do whatever the fuck you want tomorrow, but you have a fever right now and shouldn’t exert yourself too much tonight. Mental or otherwise."

You’re chewing your lip ring while anticipating his submission to your nursing. —By that you of course have the intentions of Nyquil, maybe tea, and an extra blanket despite the heat.

"Do I have to carry you?"

(Source: capricornspacecadet)