milliways_bar | (no subject)

Some time ago for romantic purposes Karkat came into possession of a large holographic video display. He has been nursing an idea for a while, but the weather outside in mock-Scotland has been too grotesque to make it feasible.

Tonight, however, the grotty mist has finally stopped and when Karkat rises with the moon he discovers weather that is almost practically tolerable, especially once he deploys a firepit and spreads a tarp over the damp ground.

He fiddles with the projector a bit, finally managing to project the king-sized screen he wants over the lake. The first romcom he cues up is Pretty Woman, and he grunts with satisfaction as he plops himself into an stuffed husk he hauled down from his room and the familiar opening begins to unfold.

Welcome to the drive-in. The second film in the triple feature will be Grosse Pointe Blank, followed by My Best Friend's Wedding.

[OPEN THREAD! Feel free to use the setting with or without tagging Karkat, he will out here all night marathoning cheesy romantic comedies. Feel free to suggest movies that will follow Pretty Woman, and I will update this post with a list of the ones this cranky sumbitch has approved that people can reference playing.]

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Majorly so.

She says nothing about the pause he needs to keep his shit under control, watching the movie until he speaks again.

"I'll Do My Best, I Promise."

Karkat has seen the movie, and he lets himself curl away from it, burrowing his head against her shoulder and digging a fist into the husk. The stale rage that sparked with Alyx, and the guilt and self-loathing that lingered after, slowly burn off.

(It's embarrassing, he can't help thinking, how emotionally raw he's been lately. He should be able to bounce back from being remaindered out of the timeline better than this; people die all the time and you don't see them complaining.)

There's a wave of something that passes over Kanaya as she observes Karkat's distress, making her frown a little as she pulls him a bit more firmly against herself.

Quiet, shooshy noises come next, and her fingers card his hair as she does her best to use her sneaky sylph powers on him.

He is not going to go to sleep this time; he just woke up a couple hours ago. He just groans and growls quietly to himself as he shifts, trying to work out a posture that is comfortable without being just completely blatantly pale.

A voice in his head says, THIS IS A PROBLEM, but he's not really sure he can remember why anymore. His moirallegiance with Gamzee is another timeline, and frankly lasted all of twelve seconds, several months ago, and as far as he knows Kanaya doesn't have any other pale prospects.

Of course he's... whatever kind of weird ghost thing he is, now, and won't be able to be a part of her full life in, you know, reality. But that all seems kind of ridiculous far away and specious compared to the pale fire that is burning away the tight knots of rage and fear studded through his miserable torso as she smooths his hair.

Maybe they can just go on... not talking about it. Maybe that would be better. He slides his arms around her waist and breathes.

Edited 2013-03-10 07:00 (UTC)

While Karkat isn't going to go to sleep, Kanaya's the one who's diurnal. There's a better chance of her falling asleep first, but that won't be an issue for a good while yet.

Right now, she has her hands full with trying to soothe her nubby-horned troll as he weasels his way closer.

If he's not going to say anything about this, then she won't either, because she is aware, in a very distant sense, of how unbelievably pale this is. She doesn't really let herself address it, though, because last time she dealt with feeling like this...well...Vriska.

And she doesn't want to have to deal with a mess like that anytime soon.

"WHAT WERE YOU WORKING ON BEFORE I DRAGGED YOU OUT HERE TO SERVE AS A SUPPLEMENTARY EASE CUSHION, ANYWAY?"

"I Was Working On A Pattern For Myself, Actually. I Received Some Nice Fabric From Twilight Sparkle For Their Hoofbeast Holiday, And I Hadn't Had A Chance To Work With Any Of It Yet."

"OH, YEAH, SHIT." Karkat would smack himself in the face, if his arms weren't full.

"SHE GAVE ME SOMETHING TOO, AND I WAS GOING TO RECIPROCATE WITH THAT CONTRABAND I UNLOCKED THE OTHER DAY, BUT I MET THIS WEIRD LITTLE GIRL WHO WAS A GAME CONSTRUCT AND I COMPLETELY FUCKING FORGOT."

A blink.

"A Little Girl Who Was A Game Game Construct? I Thought We Only Had Amphibian Like Creatures?"

Edited 2013-03-11 04:37 (UTC)

"NOT ONE OF OURS, OR EVEN FROM SGRUB AT ALL. NOT EVEN A GENETIC CONSTRUCT, SHE IS LIKE SOME KIND OF INCARNATED CONCEPT FROM INSIDE A COMPUTER. LIKE REMEMBER, HOW AT FIRST WE THOUGHT THAT SGRUB WAS TAKING US LITERALLY INSIDE THE COMPUTER, EVEN THOUGH THAT WAS KIND OF RETARDED?"

"WELL IT TURNS OUT WHAT WAS RETARDED WAS EVER DOUBTING THAT THAT COULD BE A THING, I GUESS, BECAUSE SHE IS HERE AND SHE SAYS THERE ARE A BUNCH OF OTHERS. SHE IS FROM SOME WEIRDLY PRISSY RACING GAME WITH NO BLOOD AND A CANDY THEME, LIKE NEPETEA'S LAND."

"That's...Odd. I Mean, Who Even Makes A Game Without Gore Graphics? Sometimes, That's The Best Part."

"What Was She Like, Then?"

"SHE WAS A SCRAPPY LITTLE BRATLING WHO VERGED ON THE GENUINELY OBNOXIOUS, WITH A TASTE FOR INSULTING PEOPLE."

In other words, Karkat liked her a lot.

She smiles.

"So You Made Friends, Then."

"YEAH, SHE'S ALL RIGHT."

As the Cusack movie winds down, Karkat has to shuffle himself upright to page through his files again.

"OH, THIS IS A GOOD ONE."

He eyes her beadily. "YOU WILL PROBABLY PASS OUT BEFORE THE ENDING, THOUGH. THE ENDING IS THE BEST PART."

She lifts her arm, allowing him to straighten and set up the next movie.

"Then You'll Just Have To Show It To Me Again," she says simply. "When It's Not The Middle Of The Night, That Is."

"NONSENSE, SELF-INDULGENT GARBAGE AND NONSENSE. WHAT I WILL HAVE TO DO IS, I WILL JUST HAVE TO WAKE YOU UP."

She does pretty well, really, enough so that when Karkat shakes her awake at the end what she sees unfold will make some semblance of sense.

George: Hey gorgeous, having a good time?

Julianne: Not particularly. But, I did what I came to do.

George: What, you split them up?

Julianne: No, I said goodbye.

George: Good girl. I'm proud of you. I'd be prouder still if you were dancing.

Julianne: I have big plans for dancing, just give me 30, 35 years.

George: Oh, the misery, the exquisite tragedy, the Susan Haywood of it all. I can just picture you there, sitting alone at your table in your lavender gown.

Julianne: Did I tell you my gown was lavender?

George: Hair swept up, haven't touched your cake, probably drumming your fingernails on the white linen tablecloth. The way you do when you're really feeling down. Perhaps even looking at those fingernails and thinking, 'God, I should have stopped in all my evil plotting to have that manicure', it's too late now.

Julianne: George... I didn't tell you my dress was lavender.

It's SUCH A GOOD MOVIE. Wake THE FUCK UP, Kanaya.

There isn't much grumbling from Kanaya when Karkat nudges her awake, her head rising from either his nest of hair or his shoulder, she's not sure. But the scene is good, and so completely and utterly pale it has her squeezing Karkat just a little closer.

George: Suddenly, a familiar song. And, you’re off your chair in one, exquisite movement… wondering, searching, sniffing the wind like a dapple deer. Has God heard your little prayer? Will Cinderella dance again? And then, suddenly, the crowds part and there he is: sleek, stylish… radiant with charisma. Bizarrely, he’s on the telephone. But then, so are you. And then he comes towards you… the moves of a jungle cat. Although you quite correctly sense that he is… gay… like most devastatingly handsome single men of his age are, you think… what the hell. Life goes on. Maybe there won’t be marriage… maybe there won’t be sex… but, by God, there’ll be dancing.

As wonderful as the scene is, Kanaya begins to fade out once more during the dancing montage, murmuring something indistinct but undeniably pale as she returns to sleep. It's unlikely she'll remember what she said come morning, but it's the thought that counts, right?