Your name is TEREZI PYROPE and it can be said that you have issues.
You have very strong views on justice and you are a self-appointed vigilante. Or so you say.
Your eyesight is atrocious and you cannot see shit.
You have a condition called synesthesia that sometimes makes up for this. You can taste and smell colors as well as sounds.
You have a fondness for dubstep and punk, as the harsh sounds bring to mind the color red.
Your fixation with that particular color is rather unnerving.
You killed your matesprit ages ago but she got over it. You're cool now.
Post reblogged from Lift me up. with 10 notes
==> Terezi: Fall asleep.
You smile and lean against her. A hollow feeling spreads in your chest but you try and push it away. With some effort you are able to concentrate on your matesprit.
She feels warm and you wonder if this is even a possibility in dream bubbles. Perhaps it’s simply a hallucination.
“It’s better now that you’re here…” You nod, half trying to convince her and the other half trying to convince yourself.
It is slightly better. You have to admit that to yourself.
There is a sharp pang of loss. She acted so different now. You missed the bluh bluh huge bitch. You missed her taunts and insults and tantrums.
When was the last time you heard her raise her voice?
When was the last time you heard her laugh?
You didn’t count her occasional chuckles. They seemed fake. Forced. So did her smiles; they lacked real emotion. Since her death, she was always solemn and distant. Or perhaps you were only imagining it? Perhaps her blurred image made it hard to tell.
You sniff lightly at her to test this. Her cerulean-stained image briefly sharpens, yet you can’t read her.
You’re confused. You don’t understand. You killed her ages ago. Why are you suddenly so distraught? Why, after so long?
You want your old Vriska back. That’s all you want. You want to fight with her and make up again. You want to share your new home with her. You want to show her this new planet that you helped create.
Your eyes burn for a brief moment, but nothing else happens. It seems you’ve forgotten how to cry.
You still can’t find anything to say.
You’re shaking.
You look up at her with as much concern as you can render in your current state.
“What’s wrong…?” You question her current state. It unnerves you a bit as you’ve never seen her so distraught. “Did I do something…?” You deflate slightly, figuring it must have been something on your part.
You take a short moment to compose yourself. After a brief pause, you shake your head. The smile comes easily. It was a swift transition, and a rather concerning one at that. “You didn’t do anything wrong, goddamn.” There is a chuckle in your voice. You’re no longer shaking, but you’re tense.
On the inside, your thoughts are frantic. You’re trapped, much like your matesprit. Cursed to visit her only in dreams. Why did it take you so long to fully comprehend this?
Even though you had the chance to visit her, she was so different now.
Source: mercurial-vigilante
Post reblogged from Lift me up. with 10 notes
==> Terezi: Fall asleep.
You smile and lean against her. A hollow feeling spreads in your chest but you try and push it away. With some effort you are able to concentrate on your matesprit.
She feels warm and you wonder if this is even a possibility in dream bubbles. Perhaps it’s simply a hallucination.
“It’s better now that you’re here…” You nod, half trying to convince her and the other half trying to convince yourself.
It is slightly better. You have to admit that to yourself.
There is a sharp pang of loss. She acted so different now. You missed the bluh bluh huge bitch. You missed her taunts and insults and tantrums.
When was the last time you heard her raise her voice?
When was the last time you heard her laugh?
You didn’t count her occasional chuckles. They seemed fake. Forced. So did her smiles; they lacked real emotion. Since her death, she was always solemn and distant. Or perhaps you were only imagining it? Perhaps her blurred image made it hard to tell.
You sniff lightly at her to test this. Her cerulean-stained image briefly sharpens, yet you can’t read her.
You’re confused. You don’t understand. You killed her ages ago. Why are you suddenly so distraught? Why, after so long?
You want your old Vriska back. That’s all you want. You want to fight with her and make up again. You want to share your new home with her. You want to show her this new planet that you helped create.
Your eyes burn for a brief moment, but nothing else happens. It seems you’ve forgotten how to cry.
You still can’t find anything to say.
You’re shaking.
Source: mercurial-vigilante
Post reblogged from I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL PISS A HAPPY MEAL OFF. with 3 notes
==>Karkat: Get up.
You find yourself staring at the wall beside your bed more and more.
You don’t think it’s fascinating; far be it, you think it’s boring as shit. But you really have nothing better to do anymore, since you’ve quickly blown through all of those romcoms you’d been stockpiling since you arrived on this new planet.
You roll over on this human contraption to your other side, cursing the mattress almost violently as your arm digs hard into your side. You really fucking miss your recuperacoon, but the bitch was too much of a pain to bother installing one.
Slowly you stand up, cracking your arms and neck, spitting out a curse at the sharp pains stinging your body.
You yank your chair from its place slid under your desk, flopping down onto the barely cushioned seat and flipping on your computer, watching grumpily as the piece of shit boots up. After it finishes annoying you for the first of many times this day, you open up your Pesterchum window, grimacing as you see some of your old friends are online.
Normally you would refuse to talk to them, but you think it’s time you get over this slump.
Not really. You’re just bored out of your fucking skull and what better entertainment than those dipshits you call “friends?”
You’re seated at your husktop, enjoying a playlist composed entirely of red-scented music. The current song’s bass drop is interrupted by a short jingle from Trollian. One of your friends has just signed in.
Curiously, you sniff at your Trollian window. It was Karkat.
You can’t help but grin as you click his trolltag. Karkat was rarely, if ever, online. That didn’t necessarily mean he was going to reply, but you decide messaging him is worth a shot anyway. You enjoy the rapid clack of keys as you type your greeting.
“K4RK4T?
H3Y NUBS HOW 4R3 YOU F33L1NG? >:]
1TS B33N 4 WH1L3 S1NC3 W3 T4LK3D
1 K1ND OF M1SS OUR B4NT3R”
Any other time, you would have scolded him for ignoring you for so long. This time, however, you choose to spare him. You assume that pestering him about it would only serve to make him feel guilty and force him further into his shell. You could make a crab pun on that. But you don’t.
You sit back in your chair and eagerly hope for a reply.
You groan, your nails digging into your neck as you absently scratch a random as fuck itch. Of course the first person to bother you would be Terezi. Did you really assume it would have been anyone else?
You crack your fingers and inhale deeply through your nose. You suppose that even though you could ignore the shit out of her, it doesn’t mean you should. Or something.
Either way, your fingers hit the keyboard, pounding hard on the keys in a way they haven’t in a long time, hurried and angry, and you honestly marvel for a second at their key-stabbing.
“STOP CALLING ME NUBS YOU FUCKING IDIOT.
I’M JUST FUCKING FINE, IN FACT, BETTER THAN I HAVE BEEN IN MONTHS, IF NOT FUCKING YEARS.
AND YEAH, IT HAS BEEN A PRETTY LONG TIME.”
You hesitated, clawed hands hovering over your husktop’s keyboard. What do you say now? Even despite these near months of seclusion, you never were a social butterfly, even with people you regularly hung around. YOu always felt, well… a little awkward.
“YEAH? SOMEONE HAS TO. CAUSE I SURE AS HELL DON’T.
YOU ALWAYS WERE A CRAZY BITCH. YOU ACTUALLY ENJOYED THAT? COLOR ME UNSURPRISED.”
You leaned back in your chair a moment, finger hovering now over the enter key. Shrugged, you tapped it and sent your response into cyberspace. Like you actually gave a fuck what Terezi responded with.
Ping. He replied this time. You raise your eyebrows, genuinely surprised. You read his response once. There’s a short pause, and then you read it again.
“H3S 4L1V3 >:O
QU1CK SOM3ON3 CONT4CT TH4T M4D SC13NC3Y DUD3 W3 C4N THROW 4 L1F3 P4RTY FOR K4RKL3S
NO S3R1OUSLY THOUGH 1TS N1C3 TO T4LK TO YOU 4G41N
1 W4S K1ND OF WORR13D >:?
BUT ONLY K1ND OF THOUGH
H3H3H3”
Another grin stretches across your face as you reread his messages for a third time. You did miss his angry, pavement grey text.
Source: choleric-carcinogen
Post reblogged from I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL PISS A HAPPY MEAL OFF. with 3 notes
==>Karkat: Get up.
You find yourself staring at the wall beside your bed more and more.
You don’t think it’s fascinating; far be it, you think it’s boring as shit. But you really have nothing better to do anymore, since you’ve quickly blown through all of those romcoms you’d been stockpiling since you arrived on this new planet.
You roll over on this human contraption to your other side, cursing the mattress almost violently as your arm digs hard into your side. You really fucking miss your recuperacoon, but the bitch was too much of a pain to bother installing one.
Slowly you stand up, cracking your arms and neck, spitting out a curse at the sharp pains stinging your body.
You yank your chair from its place slid under your desk, flopping down onto the barely cushioned seat and flipping on your computer, watching grumpily as the piece of shit boots up. After it finishes annoying you for the first of many times this day, you open up your Pesterchum window, grimacing as you see some of your old friends are online.
Normally you would refuse to talk to them, but you think it’s time you get over this slump.
Not really. You’re just bored out of your fucking skull and what better entertainment than those dipshits you call “friends?”
You’re seated at your husktop, enjoying a playlist composed entirely of red-scented music. The current song’s bass drop is interrupted by a short jingle from Trollian. One of your friends has just signed in.
Curiously, you sniff at your Trollian window. It was Karkat.
You can’t help but grin as you click his trolltag. Karkat was rarely, if ever, online. That didn’t necessarily mean he was going to reply, but you decide messaging him is worth a shot anyway. You enjoy the rapid clack of keys as you type your greeting.
“K4RK4T?
H3Y NUBS HOW 4R3 YOU F33L1NG? >:]
1TS B33N 4 WH1L3 S1NC3 W3 T4LK3D
1 K1ND OF M1SS OUR B4NT3R”
Any other time, you would have scolded him for ignoring you for so long. This time, however, you choose to spare him. You assume that pestering him about it would only serve to make him feel guilty and force him further into his shell. You could make a crab pun on that. But you don’t.
You sit back in your chair and eagerly hope for a reply.
Source: choleric-carcinogen
Post reblogged from A Grim Designer with 4 notes
I Hope You Do Not Mind But I Whipped Up This Outfit For You
I Call It Rebel Couture
I Do Hope You Enjoy It And If You Wish I Can Make More For You
I Have A Lot Of Spare Time Now
Ping. The scent of jade texts alerts you that the message is from Kanaya.
Curiously, you click this link.
While you aren’t very interested in fashion, you find this outfit to your tastes.
It’s edgy and colorful. And the shades of red are deliciously bright. How suitable. You would absolutely wear it.
You begin typing a response.
“WOW K4N4Y4
TH1S 1S PR3TTY SW33T
1 DONT KNOW MUCH 4BOUT YOUR F4SH1ON SH1T BUT 1D D3F W34R TH1S
TH4NKS 4 BUNCH >:]”
You hear the plunk of Pesterchum from the other room and return, checking the message. The leet speak makes you smile a bit— while everything was turned upside down, Terezi’s familiar coarse language and loud typing almost made it feel like things were back to normal.
Almost.
You type up a quick reply, not quite knowing where else to go with the conversation.
“I Am Quite Pleased You Enjoy This
While You May Not Know Anything About Fashion You Can Still Be Fashionable While Enjoying Your Clothes
You Have Your Own Unique Style And It Is Interesting For Me To Attempt To Create Something Around It That Still Follows Conventional Rules”You and she were never the best of friends, nor were you enemies, really. You will admit at one time, the relationship between Terezi and… Vriska did fill you with an unknowable, seething jealousy and sadness, but now you are (quite assuredly, no problems here, nope none at all) over it. You’ve never been sure quite how to react around the girl, though Rose assures you will never understand her, as she and Dave are good friends and, you quote, “Their relationship, while an utmost mystery to me, is quite complex and from an outsider’s perspective rather perplexing. I do not believe any being outside of each other will quite understand their personalities and attitudes, and that includes you, Kanaya. Try not to worry too much about it.”
You sigh and smack your lips together, your fresh coat of lipstick providing a soothing, smooth surface for them to glide on. It’s comforting, in a way. Another reminder of home.
You’ve never held any particular hostility towards Kanaya, and you assumed the same from her. Your feelings towards the rainbow drinker have always been rather neutral. If you had been aware of her previous feelings for Vriska, however, there might have been potential for some sort of rivalry.
You found it rather comforting to talk to her. She was very proper and intelligent, though you knew just as well as anybody that she could be dangerous. Though you would never confess to it, the sound of a revving chainsaw made you slightly nervous.
“CONV3NT1ON4L RUL3S?
BL4R TH4T M4K3S 1T SOUND 3V3N MOR3 COMPL1C4T3D
4ND BOR1NG
BUT WH4T3V3R
1 JUST HOP3 TH3 OUTF1TS COMFORT4BL3
H3H3H3 >:]”
Briefly, you wonder if your leetspeak and lack of ability to take things seriously ever irked the other troll. She seemed too proper for your bullshit.
You then dismiss the matter, deciding that you really don’t care.
Source: glowing-fashionista
Link reblogged from A Grim Designer with 4 notes
Terezi →
I Hope You Do Not Mind But I Whipped Up This Outfit For You
I Call It Rebel Couture
I Do Hope You Enjoy It And If You Wish I Can Make More For You
I Have A Lot Of Spare Time Now
Ping. The scent of jade texts alerts you that the message is from Kanaya.
Curiously, you click this link.
While you aren’t very interested in fashion, you find this outfit to your tastes.
It’s edgy and colorful. And the shades of red are deliciously bright. How suitable. You would absolutely wear it.
You begin typing a response.
“WOW K4N4Y4
TH1S 1S PR3TTY SW33T
1 DONT KNOW MUCH 4BOUT YOUR F4SH1ON SH1T BUT 1D D3F W34R TH1S
TH4NKS 4 BUNCH >:]”
Source: glowing-fashionista
Post reblogged from Lift me up. with 10 notes
==> Terezi: Fall asleep.
“Hmmm….” You sigh in content, glad she’s finally here. “Is something wrong?” Usually when someone isn’t sleeping much there’s a problem on hand. You know this from experience.
You take her hand in yours and attempt to nuzzle back. You were never that good at affection. Even so, you try your best for her.
Was there a problem? You can’t recall any.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” You shrug and smile. “Doesn’t matter. I’m asleep now, so I’ll probably be here a while.”
You wonder how to spend this time with her.
You smile in return. “Things here have been too boring.” You wince, your sharp teeth revealing themselves as you think about how lonely things have been. You shrug and smile again. It doesn’t matter now that she’s here.
“I don’t have much to do.” You blush, embarrassed. “I don’t do much…” You laugh as you realize how silly that sounds. Being dead sucks most of the time.
You frown. You had heard that line too many times.
It would be great if you could find a way to bring her back. You couldn’t imagine how boring it must be to stay locked in a dream bubble for eternity.
You regret killing her, but it was necessary.
For once, you’re not sure what to say. You only nestle closer and hope that your company is enough.
Source: mercurial-vigilante
Post reblogged from Lift me up. with 10 notes
==> Terezi: Fall asleep.
“Hmmm….” You sigh in content, glad she’s finally here. “Is something wrong?” Usually when someone isn’t sleeping much there’s a problem on hand. You know this from experience.
You take her hand in yours and attempt to nuzzle back. You were never that good at affection. Even so, you try your best for her.
Was there a problem? You can’t recall any.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” You shrug and smile. “Doesn’t matter. I’m asleep now, so I’ll probably be here a while.”
You wonder how to spend this time with her.
Source: mercurial-vigilante
Link reblogged from its the family business with 16 notes
a warped sense of justice: thatinsufferableprick: sup everyonei suppose i should make an... →
God, she knew as much as he did. They were nearly as bad as Jade and Nepeta were. Okay, no they weren’t. He couldn’t even allow himself to consider that as a possible reality. Sure, they were his friends and he loved them and all of that stupid sappy junk, but god were they insufferable when they got together. It was like getting diabeetus from a unicorn throwing kittens at you.
“oh i know it will be great
it will go down in history as the best anime in the history of animes
i will be waiting with eager anticipation for the day that the english dub comes out
there will be camping outside of the local tokyo pop i assure you”
Your banter continues.
“1LL TOT4LLY B3 TH3R3 TO H3LP YOU B34T TH3 CROWD OK?
W3 W1LL SN4G TH3 F1RST COPY
W3D DO 1T M4N
W3D M4K3 1T H4P3N
B3TT3R M4K3 SUR3 TH3 DUB DO3SNT SUCK THOUGH
4NYW4Y
WH4T 4R3 YOU UP TO B3S1D3S D3V3LOP1NG 4N1M3 PLOTS”
What were you doing before this inane dialogue began? God, it seems like ages ago. Whatever you’d been doing before this had been temporarily drowned in the blinding glitter of imaginary animes.
You look through your tabs, and it clicks. For a moment, you almost consider not telling her, so as not to feed that weird color fetish she has. But what the hell.
“well aside from that im attempting make this blog not look shitty
i just keep going back to it and being incredibly unimpressed
like god that background is so pastel
i might as well have a white one with swirls or some other generic shit
so now im on a quest to find the most blinding blog theme in existence that wont cause epileptic seizures”
A wide grin stretches across your face. When it came to choosing colors for anything, you were always ready to offer your own suggestions.
“M1GHT 1 SUGG3ST 4 LOV3LY CH3RRY R3D B4CKGROUND?
BL1ND1NG Y3T NOT QU1T3 S31ZUR3 1NDUC1NG
1T SU1TS YOU YOU KNOW
1 M34N COM3 ON 1TS YOUR COLOR
W1TH TH4T D3L1C1OUS R3D R3CORD SH1RT YOU 4LW4YS W34R
4ND YOUR P3ST3RCHUM T3XT
NOT TO M3NT1ON YOUR BLOOD >:]
BUT 1 M34N 1F YOU W4NT TO PL4Y STUBBORN WH1CH YOU USU4LLY DO
TH3N 1 4M PR3P4R3D FOR 1T
4ND 1D 4LSO SUGG3ST 4 D4RK3R SH4D3
YOU KNOW L1K3 BL4CK CH3RRY
TH4T WOULD B3 T4STY TOO
OK YOUR3 PROB4BLY S1CK OF 4LL TH3 R3D T4LK
WH4T 4BOUT BLU3B3RRY OR T4NG3R1N3
OR M4YB3 T34L >;]”
You didn’t even realize you were rambling.
Source: savingpeoplehuntingshit
Link reblogged from its the family business with 16 notes
a warped sense of justice: thatinsufferableprick: sup everyonei suppose i should make an... →
God, she knew as much as he did. They were nearly as bad as Jade and Nepeta were. Okay, no they weren’t. He couldn’t even allow himself to consider that as a possible reality. Sure, they were his friends and he loved them and all of that stupid sappy junk, but god were they insufferable when they got together. It was like getting diabeetus from a unicorn throwing kittens at you.
“oh i know it will be great
it will go down in history as the best anime in the history of animes
i will be waiting with eager anticipation for the day that the english dub comes out
there will be camping outside of the local tokyo pop i assure you”
Your banter continues.
“1LL TOT4LLY B3 TH3R3 TO H3LP YOU B34T TH3 CROWD OK?
W3 W1LL SN4G TH3 F1RST COPY
W3D DO 1T M4N
W3D M4K3 1T H4P3N
B3TT3R M4K3 SUR3 TH3 DUB DO3SNT SUCK THOUGH
4NYW4Y
WH4T 4R3 YOU UP TO B3S1D3S D3V3LOP1NG 4N1M3 PLOTS”
Source: savingpeoplehuntingshit
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