You can’t see much of him, but he seems to have come already dressed for the part-the ragged, too-big clothes, the mess of his hair…he’s painted up, even. It turns slightly-you catch a glimpse of a white-painted face, a wild tangle of hair and a baggy, beat-up black jacket with a swooping purple sign on the shoulder.
A crowd is gathering around one side of it, all of them in a circle around a big skinny, lanky figure with curvy horns that poke out over everyone's heads. There’s a sudden rise in the level of noise behind you, and you turn to look over a stack of boxes and film and shit, toward the set. You couldn't make this guy sound like more of a mess if you tried. Fuck, could they pile this shit on any heavier? Abandoned by his lusus, sopor-addicted, touch-starved, uncontrollable rages.holy shit, there's making stuff up and then there's globes-out lying. You look down the page, and then flip to the next one, eyebrows rising. An unstable highblood, whose pitiable traits include. You walk into the wrong place, find this desperate, exhausted shut-in and clean him up real good. You flip through the folder, scanning the brief summary of character details you're a visitor, looking for your kismesis. It's fair to assume he won't have to do much character work, but you've got to get at least a little bit of setup in on your end. 99% of the time you're acting, but you've had people flip out in the middle of shoots before, and going through the motions when them brought them right back down again. You're not all that worried about it, honestly. There's a lot of debate online about whether his persona is acted or whether he's genuinely unstable, and you haven't made a decision either way at this point. There's also the really convincing way he lashes out and tries to maul people when he's startled in mid-scene. He gets a lot of mileage out of the big, sad, purple eyes and thick eyelashes, and he's got a knack for making himself look smaller, fragile and timid. You couldn't tell in his videos if it was actual malnutrition or just a convincing paintjob he wouldn't be the first troll to get a taste of fame and start taking some drastic measures to look as pitiable as possible. He's built for the job, too, purpleblood-tall but thin and fragile-looking, and his horns are elegant and nicely-curved but yellow and soft-looking. From what you've seen of his oeuvre, his skills are mostly based in an impressive ability to sell his fucked-upness as genuine, actually in need of conciliation.
#KEEP IT SHRIMPLE STUPID DOWNLOAD#
They've been having you watch his videos ever since he got popular enough to challenge your download numbers and got imperially sanctioned, and you know what he looks like.
The folder doesn't include a picture of Capricorn's face, but you don't really need one. So you find an odd corner, settle down, and open up the folder to get a look at what you’re going to be working with. It doesn’t make a difference to you where they put what, with you working so much off of improvisation. You wander off while they arrange the set-you’re not needed for this part, anyway.
#KEEP IT SHRIMPLE STUPID FULL#
You’re on set the next afternoon with a folder full of info in your hands. The porn’s not going to fucking make itself. But Capricorn is a celebrity, and you’re a celebrity, and in the end, his agents apparently don’t want to wait any more than yours do. Normally you’d get a warning for a shoot a couple of days in advance-you’re important enough you could even say no to one or two before people started bitching about it. “You have a shoot,” she says, “…with Capricorn.” You’re about to start growling at her for real, because what the fuck, that’s nothing new, people are lining the fuck up to shoot with me- But she lowers her voice and goes on, like it’s a big secret, and you have to shut up to hear her.
“Mmngh,” you say, because hell, you just checked the clock on your palmhusk and it’s a few hours before sunset. “Karkat! Sugar you will not believe the deal I just got.” She can call you by your first name, if she has to. “ Karkat,” she says, and you start to bristle for a second before you remind yourself who you’re talking to. You slap at it awkwardly and manhandle it up to somewhere approximately around your face, and the first thing you hear is your agent’s high-pitched, breathless voice (why does she have to get so much louder when she’s excited?). You wake up because your palmhusk is going off in really close proximity to your auricular sponge clot and making your horns hurt.
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