sortinghat_rp | (no subject)

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i'm sorry, won't be using this journal no more, so you all can tell your parents ain't no motherfuckers going to be writing bad shit no more.

[Private to Eridan]
i'm sorry.
i won't be looking at you or nothing any more.
if you want me to shut my chute when you're around, too, i'll do that.
i fucked up.

[Private to Shinra.]
i ain't gonna be on here no more, so give me your address, i'll figure out the bus and then walk to where you live.
you can owl me if you want, but i don't guess it's very good for me to be on these.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'm PrEtTy SuRe I aIn'T gOt ThE kNoWiNg Of HoW tO sToP bEiNg Me.
i'M kInD oF sHiTtY aT tRaNsFiG.
iT's JuSt BeTtEr If I aIn'T hErE rIgHt NoW.

It's moments like these I forget how unintentionally funny you are. Really, it's great.

You should be were ever you want to be. I mean I was reading those journals as much as anyone else. A lot of information that I'm sure will never be put on anyone's medical records, funny though really.

I would say that everyone over-reacted, but I'm not exactly the periodical of normal behaviour.

NaH, iT's SoMe OtHeR sHiT, tOo.
AnYwAy, MaYbE iF i AiN't HeRe, pEoPlE wHaT dOnE lOsT tHeIr JoUrNaLs WiLl GeT tHeM bAcK.

[pause]

aNyWaY, mAyBe BeInG nOrMaL aIn'T sO gReAt.

If parents have taken them, you being on or off the journal isn't going to make any difference.
I mean think about it, taking the joint away from someone doesn't stop the fact they've toked before hand. So you really can stay on the journal systems.

I've never been normal, so I wouldn't know how great or ungreat it is. And really I enjoy being me too much to try normality.

wElL, bEiNg YoU iS pReTtY mOtHeRfUcKiN sWeEt, BrO!

Thanks, I would say I try. But really this all comes naturally.

Now, tell me. Are you going to keep being all hum drum? Or am I going to have to send for someone to make you cheer up.

[Gamzee's best friend isn't talking to him, and he's voluntarily and bull-headedly cutting himself off from his main source of social contact. He will probably still remain humdrum, but he can at least fake it for Tony.]

kInD oF lAzY fOr YoU nOt To Do It YoUrSeLf, MoThErFuCkEr.
;o)
NaH, i'M cOoL.

Well, I don't have a driver's license for one. And well never said I wasn't going to be in the car.

Well, you're not acting very cool at the moment. I mean hey, you've done me some pretty solid favours, so I gotta repay it at sometime. Come on, how often can you hear that from someone with money like mine?

mOtHeRfUcKeR, iF yOu WaNt To GeT yOuR vIsIt On, I aIn'T nEvEr GoNnA bE bItChInG aBoUt It.
BuT iT aIn'T nEcEsSaRy Is AlL i'M sAyInG.

I hate to tell you this, Cheech. But most of the things I do aren't necessary. You doing anything right now?

Because if not, I can have a driver bring me over.

[ .... aw, Tony, you're a doll.]

i AiN't HaRdLy NeVeR dOiNg NoThInG.
bUt AiN't ThAt KiNd Of A lOnG mOtHeRfUcKiN dRiVe?

Probably, but I'm not the one driving so what does it matter?

What do you say?

GuEsS i Be SaYiNg YeS uP iN hErE.
:o)

Well, that was easy. Send me over your address and I'll be on my way over.

[Still a little bemused by this whole thing, Gamzee will do precisely that, wondering what kinds of shit Tony likes to do when he hangs out. He probably doesn't rap ... ]

[After a while, Tony's car pulls up out the front of Gamzee's home. Once the doors opened for him, he steps out. Wearing jeans, a long sleeve shirt and is wearing red tinted sunglasses and gazes at the front for a moment before strolling up to the door and knocking. Ignoring his driver who gets back into the car and waits.]

[Gamzee's house is long stone cottage, right up on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. There's a path down one side to the rocky beach. It's obviously a quite old house, several hundred years, maybe, though it seems in good repair. The younger boy answers the door, sans make-up today, in a striped thermal, t-shirt, and baggy purple jeans.]

Hey, motherfucker! [exclaims happily, as though Tony hadn't told him he was coming over] Damn, you be looking sly!

[Tony raises his eyebrows over his sunglasses. Then bursts out into a grin.]

You say that like I've never looked sly before. You're looking pretty. Swish yourself, Center ring.

So, what's in your head. Hang out around here, or should we go some where around here?

Uh ... [Gamzee thinks for a few moments.] Well, my da ain't around, so we could be hanging here if you want. The village ain't got too much going on, just a couple of pubs and it has an okay music store with some real old motherfuckin' vinyl in it, which is kind of cool. Probably not the shit you're used to doing, though, huh?

Well you're not wrong there. I'm very, big into the digital age of sound.

But hey, you're the master of this domain. It can be your call, I came to see you after all. So you should get the say.

Bro, sometimes kicking it old school be a way to get a pretty sweet mirthful sound. Analog, motherfucker! [Gamzee enthuses with a grin, but he opens his door wider so Tony can come in.] But we can hang here for awhile, anyway. I don't even know where your pan be at, what you like to pour in your hear ducts!

Yeah, mirthful. I'm sure, one scratched up vinyl is going to destroy any kind of mirth there.

[Tony slips into the house and looks around, taking it in.]

Wow, cosy. Not bad. Not. Bad.

[It's actually a sort of spartan house, not the kind of place one would expect someone like Gamzee to live. There are some rather dreary sea-life scenes on the walls, fishing boats and the like, and the furniture all looks a bit old, and not in that antique-y, valuable sort of way. Still, it's relatively clean, and there's hooks for macks and some boots by the door, and Gamzee leads his friend to the kitchen, which is a little more cheerful. There are nice curtains in here, anyway, though the table in the corner has a lot of old magazines and newspapers on it.]

You want anything to be putting down your protein chute, bro?

[For someone like Tony who's grown up in a world of large, decadent rooms that he feels out of place in. Any other house is cozy and warm.

He looks around the kitchen and gives a smile, then parks himself at the table and idly looks through one of the magazines. Then scoffs at his friends oddball wordings]

Protein chute.

[He shakes his head slightly.]

Nah, I should be f-. Actually, wait. What fruit do you have hidden away in here?

Fruit? Uh ... like oranges, and some canned shit? [going to the fridge to fetch out a mesh bag of oranges] You be wanting some? I got me a thing for the smell what gets on everything when you eat oranges.

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