8yearsbadluck-blog
talk shit get hit
My name is Vriska Serket, and welcome to Jackass!
[Vriska rp for motherfuckinapartmentstuck]
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Text
Vriska shot Sollux a virulent glare when her cigarette was wrenched from its comfortable position between her lips. She leaned heavily against the coarse brick wall and scuffed her cracked shoes against the pavement. Flicking a few unruly blond hairs that were obscuring her vision out of her face, she turned her head ever so slightly in Sollux's direction and listlessly blew the remaining smoke inside her lungs in his face again, hoping to provoke more irritation out of him him.
"What? I only dragged you out here for fresh oxygen to burn, alright? Whats the big fuckfest, damn."
From the dimly lit streetlamps she could make out a few dilapidated buildings nearby, most of them vandalized and coated with graffiti (some of which were her own work, she noted with a sense of satisfaction). A mushroom-shaped cloud would have looked entirely natural.
Years in the past, but not many. [closed rp]
After the initial endeavor that was extracting him from his stale, health hazardous apartment (C’mon Sollux I don’t want to be alone on these cold hard streets without a rough masculine companion!) Sollux, albeit dubiously, relented and was practically dragged outside by Vriska’s brute force.
The street outside the complex was narrow and somewhat cluttered. This particular evening it was a place, for some reason, of peculiar quiet. The only other patrons keeping her and Sollux company were a couple of yuppies taking night runs and the occasional stray cat.
With a cigarette now finally in hand, she flicked the lighter that rested between the fingers of her opposite one, exposing a bright yellow flame. She touched the glowing fire to the tip of the death stick dangling from her mouth and inhaled deeply, allotting the dense smoke to fill her lungs, then parted her lips, slowly exhaling and letting smoke escape and form a plume around her head. She had much practice with this, having picked up the habit from her mother at the ripe young age of thirteen. The opaque smog that lingered around her person had scratched her throat and stung her eyes at first, but has since died down to a petty bother; almost a comfort.
Vriska looked at Sollux, whose face seemed to had been embalmed with permanent worry lines on his forehead.
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Audio
Girl With One Eye - Florence and the Machine
I said, hey, girl with one eye
Get your filthy fingers out of my pie
I said, hey, girl with one eye
I’ll cut your little heart out ‘cause you made me cry
152 notes
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Text
Years in the past but not many [closed rp]
After the initial endeavor that was extracting him from his stale, health hazardous apartment (C'mon Sollux I don't want to be alone on these cold hard streets without a rough masculine companion!) Sollux, albeit dubiously, relented and was practically dragged outside by Vriska's brute force.
The street outside the complex was narrow and somewhat cluttered. This particular evening it was a place, for some reason, of peculiar quiet. The only other patrons keeping her and Sollux company were a couple of yuppies taking night runs and the occasional stray cat.
With a cigarette now finally in hand, she flicked the lighter that rested between the fingers of her opposite one, exposing a bright yellow flame. She touched the glowing fire to the tip of the death stick dangling from her mouth and inhaled deeply, allotting the dense smoke to fill her lungs, then parted her lips, slowly exhaling and letting smoke escape and form a plume around her head. She had much practice with this, having picked up the habit from her mother at the ripe young age of thirteen. The opaque smog that lingered around her person had scratched her thought and stung her eyes at first, but has since died down to a petty bother; almost a comfort.
Vriska looked at Sollux, whose face seemed to had been embalmed with permanent worry lines on his forehead.
2 notes
·
View notes
