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The moments where he found himself alone were never few and far between. In these times he often sat and let his mind bounce between a self-destructive egotism—a mindset that had him reflecting on how angry he was with himself and how lonely he was while blaming others—or between outright narcissism where he was just to good for others.

 

Currently he was stuck in the former, a stubborn sneer set on his lips as he stared down at the wand Kanaya gave him. Magic was fucking rea—no. No it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t, why should he let himself be so foolish and childish enough to believe that? It was stupid and fake.

 

“Fuckin’ piece a shit science wuh-wand.” He insulted it with a snort, but he was just as quick to keep a tight hold on it while staring down at the designs on the white handle. Of course, he was staring down his nose at it the whole time.

 

 

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"Hey!" A yell tore from his throat with downright condescending authority to anyone within earshot. "Wuh-where are you you piece of fuckin shit!?" His torso thrashed as he gritted his fangs, arms struggling in vain against the red ropes that bit into his wrists and upper arms, preventing any movement in those limbs. "Showuh-wuh your face like the fuckin trash you are so I can carp your fuckin face off an use it to wuh-wipe the shit off a my shoe if you're lucky!" Not like he could see them even if they did come into what should be his line of vision, anyway. His scarf was pulled up and tied tight around his eyes, the excess fabric tied in a loose noose. Another flail of his torso from where he sat on the floor, legs folded under him. He'd been yelling for a good five minutes after waking up and panicking--but only briefly! Eridan-fucking-Ampora was too good to let a creepy set-back like this make a fool out of him.

 

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There in the shadows was a dark figure, illuminated only by white whisps of the light of wrath. The only thing visible was the shine of this effervescent light reflecting off of a pair of glasses hovering in the shadows, and the blood-stained torso that light was held near. The blood looked fresh, but there was thick red thread stitched in neat little x's all the way around. What brief glimpses of skin that could be seen below the violet waterfalls and sticky clothes was a dim, snow white glow.

 

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He had just gone to make a sandwich. That's it. Nothing fancy. He was just hungry. And what guy wouldn't want some chips or crackers with that sandwich? Come on, it's like fucking tradition or some shit. So he went to get his crackers that HE made and paid for with HIS OWN Grist. The little Goldfish crackers. But they were empty. He just stared at the box, face slowly turning more and more violet before storming out into the commons with fucking PURPOSE, like a troll on a MISSION, cape and scarf fluttering all valiant like to get all the attention. All of it. He would need it in order to make a huge scene out of his goldfish crackers being eaten. Again.

 

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Well..even if it was suspicious, the sushi rolls certainly /looked/ appetizing there on that plate he was given, and seaweed was actually pretty damn good as far as he was concerned. Plus, it's not like he could tell at a glance that that was crab meat stuffed in with the vegetables and rice. Which was why he ate one. And it didn't taste that bad, either, so he even had another one. But by the time he finished the second one, he noticed the odd taste. His stare went down to the plate suspiciously, picking up a third one in his fingers to inspect. "So wuh-what's in this?"

 

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He was hunched over a countertop, the long tail of his hood hanging over his shoulder to pool on the table in front o him, claws on one hand digging into the table. He just stared at the sunny yellow color, brows knitted in deep, frustrated thought. Why was he given this title? It was like fuel to the fire that was destroying his every attempt at doing shit right and being revered for the highblood he was. These chumps were all lucky they'd been stuck on this rock with someone as skilled and noble as himself! He'd become their fucking savior they'd see. With a determined huff and a cocky smirk on his face, Eridan unsnapped the hood and pushed it back, standing upright and turning, casually running an hand through his hair to make sure there wasn't a follicle out of place. He'd thought he was alone for the moment, he thought he had a second to breathe and gather his thoughts. He didn't hear anyone enter, so when he turned and saw someone near by, he jerked a bit in surprise, brows raised as he sputtered at first, though his usual bravado returned quickly. "Er--uh. Wuh-what are you doin in here!?"

 

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Gripping the reigns to his Lusus in one hand, Eridan sat up with a snide triumph in the saddle, staring across the battlefield at his opponent. There was nothing in his gaze, no ounce of mercy or compassion, no hint of doubt anywhere to be found. There was only austere delight. "Any last wuh-words, trash?" His glasses were absent from his face, along with his scarf and usual attire bearing the Aquarius stamp. Instead, he wore thin leather armor dyed violet and black over his torso, the symbol engraved across his chest. Hidden padding protected his delicate gills and other vitals underneath the Aquarian-themed armor. His usual cape was replaced with one more grandiose in design, and his pants were striped violet and black, rather than blue and black. If it weren't for the lack of scars across his face, one might mistake Eridan for Dualscar as he slid off of his Lusus to stand beside it.

 

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He'd spent all day online, looking up tutorials and practicing playing an acoustic guitar. Well, struggling would be a more fitting adjective for what happened, but Eridan was a determined and stubborn to boot. By the time he was willing to go out and showcase his improvement--or rather, lack thereof--the sun had already handed the stage over to a full moon. That didn't stop Eridan, though, not when he wasn't willing to go to sleep and face fighteningly vivid dreams. Still dressed in a grey and white striped shirt that clung to his swimmer's build and skinny leg jeans, he went out to sit on the front steps of his apartment building and try to string together chords that didn't sound like death on the ears. "Hmph.." He grunted in frustration, bringing a hand up to run through meticulously styled brown hair with it's violet streak, a contrast to his light skin and blue eyes. "Fuck, wuh-why did I ewen come out here.." He sighed and slumped over, hiding half of his face in the purple scarf around his neck. He knew why he came out here: he came out here because practicing guitar took his mind off of things. It meant he wouldn't have to sleep. He wouldn't have to face nightmares that felt too real. (( Post-game humanstuck with recurring memories/dreams from a past troll life. Anyone is fine; pragraphs please.~ ))

 

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GAMZEE:

It was a perfect day to go out, to enjoy the bounty of nature's wonders, so that's exactly what Gamzee did. Shuffling out the door with a mop of wavy black bedhead, a face-full of clown-themed make up, a black jacket over an indigo shirt, and black tattered jeans, he set out in the spring sunshine to head to the park with a lazy stride. With the aroma of a fine weed just barely wafting from him and a bass guitar strapped over his shoulder, the happy musician found the fountain at the center of the park to climb up onto and sit. There, legs dangling, he sat in the curve of a marble lion's back, watching people go right on by him with his bass in his lap, plucking whatever strings just happened to speak to him. (( Humanstuck!Gamzee, anyone accepted. Come at me with whatever ideas you want, bros, just gimmie sweet para, please. No drug triggers at all if you're uncomfortable, but at least mentioning it's just part of Gamzee's character. ))