gAmZeE MaKaRa ♑ terminallyCapricious (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hystericull) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-02-14 11:37 pm
hystericull) wrote in towerofanimus2012-02-14 11:37 pm
001 ♑ [first honk]
Characters: OU Gamzee and you!
Setting: Room 1-02, the cafeteria, and anywhere in between!
Format: Either are entirely welcome.
Summary: A doped-up, alien clown awakens in the strangest of places - and decides that he's hungry. Seems like he's got a good handle on priorities. Oh, chocolate shenanigans are good, too, although he hasn't eaten any!
Warnings: None that I can think of, except for Gamzee's filthy mouth.
Room 1-02:
[Sometimes a body just doesn't want to get its motherfuckin' move on. That's cool, though. Whatever it feels like doing, or not doing, is all chill with him. It's not like he wouldn't be laying here motionless anyway. This sure was an uncomfortable way to wake up. The immobility didn't bother him as much as the hard, flat surface he'd been placed upon. It certainly wasn't a recuperacoon - a conclusion he'd only come to because of the depressing lack of sopor slime. It also wasn't his horn pile, which he'd become accustomed to sleeping in while in the Veil. Oh, well! Better not to dwell on such trivial things, and get back at enjoying this wicked nothingness. The crazy feel of paralysis was gone, however, and Gamzee Makara regained his motor skills.
After lamenting the loss of that dope not-moving shit, he rolled not-so-gracefully off of the bed, smacking his large horns on the nightstand and landing with a "thud" on the floor. He'd managed to knock some sheets of paper off of the nightstand on his way down.
Oh. They were letters.
Well, he'd already known Alternia had been destroyed, but he was thankful for whoever wrote the letter to have saved him! And everyone being happy sounded like a fucking awesome time! He wanted to meet the author of this letter - they sounded pretty motherfucking chill.
What wasn't chill was this super-tight jumpsuit he'd been placed in. Who even gets up in a brother's bubble like that? Not that it was a huge deal. He was pretty okay with sharing his personal space, really. He crawled over to the trunk the letter had mentioned, and beamed excitedly when he saw what was inside. Among his usual clothes, which he quickly donned, he proceeded to overturn the chest, spilling bike horns, juggling clubs, and slime all over the floor. This was starting to feel more familiar already!
Eating the slime was not something he probably should have done, but who in their right mind would take an oatmeal-only rule seriously? Better yet, who not in their right mind would even notice that there was an oatmeal-only rule?
Uh-oh. The ol' nutrition sack wasn't feeling too well. In a fit of desperation, he scrambled out of the room and down the hallway.]
Cafeteria:
[After getting situated in his room and having had quite the terrible feeling in his stomach, Gamzee had somehow found his way to the cafeteria. It had taken a while, and he'd ended up going in circles, going into other people's rooms, going back into his own room, and generally unintentionally avoiding the place he'd been searching for.
He didn't really notice the bowl of oatmeal before him, and didn't remember how it got there, for that matter. What was this stuff? It was runny, sloppy, and slid over the edges of its bowl when he wobbled it from side to side (which he was doing quite enthusiastically). It reminded him of a discolored sopor pie... kind of. Hopefully it wouldn't make his digestive sack feel like a bag of angry bees like the pie had, however. He frowned at the thought, momentarily pausing his bowl-spinning game to dip and swirl a few fingers around in the stuff cautiously. The table was full of oatmeal, as were his fingers, now. He was generally making a mess, all while wearing a stupid grin.]
Setting: Room 1-02, the cafeteria, and anywhere in between!
Format: Either are entirely welcome.
Summary: A doped-up, alien clown awakens in the strangest of places - and decides that he's hungry. Seems like he's got a good handle on priorities. Oh, chocolate shenanigans are good, too, although he hasn't eaten any!
Warnings: None that I can think of, except for Gamzee's filthy mouth.
Room 1-02:
[Sometimes a body just doesn't want to get its motherfuckin' move on. That's cool, though. Whatever it feels like doing, or not doing, is all chill with him. It's not like he wouldn't be laying here motionless anyway. This sure was an uncomfortable way to wake up. The immobility didn't bother him as much as the hard, flat surface he'd been placed upon. It certainly wasn't a recuperacoon - a conclusion he'd only come to because of the depressing lack of sopor slime. It also wasn't his horn pile, which he'd become accustomed to sleeping in while in the Veil. Oh, well! Better not to dwell on such trivial things, and get back at enjoying this wicked nothingness. The crazy feel of paralysis was gone, however, and Gamzee Makara regained his motor skills.
After lamenting the loss of that dope not-moving shit, he rolled not-so-gracefully off of the bed, smacking his large horns on the nightstand and landing with a "thud" on the floor. He'd managed to knock some sheets of paper off of the nightstand on his way down.
Oh. They were letters.
Well, he'd already known Alternia had been destroyed, but he was thankful for whoever wrote the letter to have saved him! And everyone being happy sounded like a fucking awesome time! He wanted to meet the author of this letter - they sounded pretty motherfucking chill.
What wasn't chill was this super-tight jumpsuit he'd been placed in. Who even gets up in a brother's bubble like that? Not that it was a huge deal. He was pretty okay with sharing his personal space, really. He crawled over to the trunk the letter had mentioned, and beamed excitedly when he saw what was inside. Among his usual clothes, which he quickly donned, he proceeded to overturn the chest, spilling bike horns, juggling clubs, and slime all over the floor. This was starting to feel more familiar already!
Eating the slime was not something he probably should have done, but who in their right mind would take an oatmeal-only rule seriously? Better yet, who not in their right mind would even notice that there was an oatmeal-only rule?
Uh-oh. The ol' nutrition sack wasn't feeling too well. In a fit of desperation, he scrambled out of the room and down the hallway.]
Cafeteria:
[After getting situated in his room and having had quite the terrible feeling in his stomach, Gamzee had somehow found his way to the cafeteria. It had taken a while, and he'd ended up going in circles, going into other people's rooms, going back into his own room, and generally unintentionally avoiding the place he'd been searching for.
He didn't really notice the bowl of oatmeal before him, and didn't remember how it got there, for that matter. What was this stuff? It was runny, sloppy, and slid over the edges of its bowl when he wobbled it from side to side (which he was doing quite enthusiastically). It reminded him of a discolored sopor pie... kind of. Hopefully it wouldn't make his digestive sack feel like a bag of angry bees like the pie had, however. He frowned at the thought, momentarily pausing his bowl-spinning game to dip and swirl a few fingers around in the stuff cautiously. The table was full of oatmeal, as were his fingers, now. He was generally making a mess, all while wearing a stupid grin.]
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You will be all calling me The Grand Highblood, Gamzee. [He lets the name settle on his tongue. It's a good name.]
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Bitchtits, Highbloodbro! Honk!
[He stared down at the oatmeal. He'd completely forgotten about it, and just looking at it made his stomach flop around. This whole room had become oddly disconcerting.]
Uhhh... you mind if we shoot this wicked shit somewhere, like, that ain't here?
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Now why the fuck do you all want to be doing that for? [Of course, he can't really sense Gamzee's distaste for the oatmeal from what he can see.]
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...Mostly 'cause this motherfucker be like, all having the creepy-crawlies up in his nutrition sack from having to keep gettin' his look on at this shit.
[And hesitating a little, slowwwwly looking back up at the GH.]
Unless, uhhh... you don't fuckin' wanna.
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Tell a brother what's all on your motherfucking mind of where you want to go.
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Uhhh...
[He looked around, as if an answer would be painted on a sign in big letters. He still felt uneasy about not giving this guy a straight answer. Fidgeting, now.]
I, uh, don't even got my remember on for where all I got to be comin' down here from, I think... Anywhere that ain't got this funky smell kickin' around be fine with me.
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Follow.
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Where we be goin', Highbloodbro?
[The excited tone in his voice would normally be considered strange, given the events that had just transpired, but he'd put their squabble behind him long ago.]
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Before we all get to that. One last motherfucking warning I'm all about send your way, little motherfucker. [Despite the ominous message, he chuckles.] Fix your motherfucking tendency to defile the name of the Grand Highblood. Do not be so motherfucking stupid as to think we are already 100% conciliatory.
[He's not looking forward to the long days of work ahead of him. Training and grooming aspiring young-adult subjugglators was hard enough. But having one would be better than none, even if it's a sopor-filled wriggler.]
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Oh, uh... huh. Sorry, bro.
[He looks straight ahead, as if deep in contemplation. Probably not. Now shaking his head and scurrying after the Highblood again.]
That's cool, though, motherfucker! Not knowin' all the fuck about a surprise place be like, makin' it all what's more of a special fuckin' miracle when you all get up to be being at where a motherfucker's goin', right?
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And what would a little motherfucking barely-out-of-wrigglerhood troll be all knowing about miracles?
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You ain't gotta be knowin' all about them motherfuckers, br- er, Highblood. Bro. [HE CAN'T HELP IT HE HAS TO SNEAK IT IN. Hopefully unnoticed.] You just gotta all be believing at them! Feel those bitches in your fuckin' pusher, you know?
[He looks off, dreamily.]
They be motherfuckin' everwhere, b--. Uh. They be kickin' the wicked responsibility for every fuckin' happening what's everywhere around us, motherfucker! Big shit, small shit, don't matter. You get your see on at them bitches if a brother just open his lookstubs to them, for fuckin' sure! First felt 'em like, a looong fuckin' time ago, back home! Every motherfucker I went and got my noise on with, or even when there be no brothers or sisters what's want to split some words with a motherfucker, every little dude of sand on the beach, or how them bottles of Faygo like, fly out so damn far in the ocean! They'd go so fuckin' far, bro! [He forgot now, he's too worked up...] Or how them waves try to get at a brother's feet when he's all gettin' his wicked wait on at the shore! How come they don't get up what's further and get their harshness all up and rampant and swallow up every motherfucker? Miracles keep 'em in the ocean, bro. Miracles keep 'em in there, but a brother can always get his wade on in them if he need to, which is another fuckin' miracle such right in its motherfuckin' self! Honk!
[He stays quiet for a moment, it's obvious his spirits are infinitely lifted.]
Can feel 'em in this place, too. They gotta be here, you know? Else how I ever be at getting my meet on with you, motherfucker?
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The sudden babbling of words at him sort of goes over his head, most of it being utter nonsense and all, but he feels a bit of familiarity when the topic of oceans and beaches come up. His own mind almost drifts back to that familiar place, but then mentally jolts himself out of there, a little disgusted with himself for feeling so sentimental all of a sudden. Fucking wrigglers and their blabber mouths...
When Gamzee finally takes a moment to breathe, the highblood watches him from the corner of his eye, passing the tenth floor now. The Aquarium always makes him sneer a little, but passes by it calmly. The little one is in high spirits, and he can sort of commend the kid for that. He just had a scary encounter with the highblood, after all, yet he's sprung back to such a state. Over something as vague and mysterious as miracles, even.]
It's not motherfucking surprising how the definitions of 'miracles' can all mean to another. With time, however, we will all be exploring just how motherfucking far we can all kick the wicked shit on this miracle business. [Then he gestures to the tower in general with a sweep of an arm.] But you're all motherfucking right about one thing: They are here, too, little motherfucker. This...tower, they call it, is just filled to the fucking brim with that nasty business, and only this tower can be all providing the miracle that I be all getting my look on at.
[He snickers lowly, in a much more sinister way than he had done earlier...though it's possible that Gamzee couldn't tell the difference from his usual laughs. The Vast Honk is still a thing he believes will come, and this tower will help him achieve it.]
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He grinned politely at that last statement, its implications flying straight between his horns. He returned the laughs with a few of his own. Everything seemed so lighthearted, now.]
Sounds like the fuckin' tits, Highblood. [You could practically hear him choking back the urge to add "bro" to the end of that title. IT WAS JUST SO HARD OKAY.] Uhh... we motherfuckin' there yet? [He added desperately, solidifying his place as the wriggler of this duo.]
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He has to shout because the oppressive nature of this floor muffles a lot of sound.]
Not a motherfucking moment too soon. [Then with a hint of mockery in his voice (thought it could've been in jest):] All to your motherfucking liking?
THROWS HTML OUT THE WINDOW
He tried to speak, but the noise seemed to be swept right out of his mouth. It didn't matter, anyway - he was so overwhelmed that he'd been rendered pretty much speechless.]
Whoaaaa...
[He wandered towards it, momentarily forgetting the Highblood was even there in favor of hanging his mouth open in awe.]
HHHHSDJHSD
Not being in much of a hurry, the highblood lets Gamzee get his look on at the marvel of this structure. It's quite impressive, even to the highblood, though that's really not saying much seeing as he preferred a much more basic and raw design. But not half bad. The gothic theme is something he enjoys immensely, reminded more of his old home's decor.]
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Augh--!
[He takes a few steps back, now eye-to-eye with his ancestor, or, close to it. Well, this was a first. He finally got a good look at his face without having his neck at a 90-degree angle. He looked... like Gamzee. Sort of. Only obviously much older, with elongated, more pronounced features. His hair was even more of an ungodly atrocity, if that was even possible, and his horns seemed to stretch on forever. He hadn't taken the time out yet to actually notice all of the similarities between them. Gamzee was always used to a lot of things, like being tall, having some of the biggest horns, being regarded as some sort of freakshow, those kinds of things. He didn't mind that one bit, though, he was chill with going with what felt right at all times! But, being with the Highblood, he felt smaller. Smaller and less of a... sore thumb, he supposed. If anything, it was a very odd feeling, indeed.
He spaced out a little, just staring at his ancestor for an awkward length of time.]
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Unlike Gamzee, the highblood already noticed quite a deal about the details on his little descendant. Hey, it's how he recognized him to be his ancestor in the first place! He tilts his head slightly, staring back with narrowed eyes. Then he reaches out to nudge Gamzee's chin up with a single finger.]
Gamzee. [A long pause. Let the secret interview begin!] How motherfucking old are you?
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Uh, six?
[He could almost clearly hear the ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKING ASKING ME OR ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKING TELLING ME that would come if he'd left it at that. So he got a little more confident with his answer.]
Six. ...How old are you, motherfucker?
[He raised an eyebrow curiously.]
whoops i said ancestor instead of descendant /cryingcat
Well, six is a little younger than he had first imagined, seeing how tall Gamzee is for a stupid little troll. The sharp angles and the wear on the boy's face from the effects of sopor was doing a pretty good number on him. Fortunately, it wasn't too late to change all that! The highblood wants him healthy, so that he could become a proper subjugglating individual.
At the question, he breathes out heavily.]
Been around for a pretty motherfucking long time. Can't say I remember the exactly sweep but let's just put that around a hundred, just for motherfucking simplicity's sake and shit.
[Then barely waiting a beat, he asks his next question:] How do you all motherfucking see yourself in the next 5 sweeps? [Yep, literal interview here. You can almost see the pen and notepad in his hand.]
bwubwuwbwu baby it's ok i knew what you meant s'all good
His eyes grew wide at the Highblood's response. Holy fuck, a hundred sweeps? He couldn't even imagine living that long, although it was entirely probable for him. What would one even do with all of that time? If you'd taken Gamzee's whole lifetime, and then added sixteen more of those lifetimes... Well, it would make his head spin if he had the math skills to figure it out, certainly. Instead he just sort of marveled at the staggering number.]
Holy motherfuck you be old as shit!
[Endless tact. The question that next came in rapid succession almost sent his pan spinning in a flurry of "uhh"s and "uhm"s, but he caught them all on the way out of his mouth. Well, most of them, anyway. It was enough to get him to have to sit down, falling back on his ass and crossing his legs Indian-style directly in front of the Highblood.]
Uhh, well... I much never thought about it, I guess. Actually, a motherfucker ain't never get his ponder on about future shit such to be like that. [He shrugged happily.] Who all knows what them laughing lords got laid out for a brother, you know? Motherfuckin' take that shit as it come at you, dogg.
;v;
Gamzee's struggle with words and coherent thought is laughable. He seems so helpless like this, only able to babble his way through things, and even when upset he's just bark and no bite. It's still a long ways until he can finally get Gamzee to snap out of his sopor stupor. Thoughts and plans reeled through his mind, letting Gamzee just babble on about not knowing shit about anything. Well, that's fine if he didn't know. It's not so much the answer he's concerned with anyway. The mentioning of lords perks his interest..]
You are familiar with the Messiahs. Didn't think that wicked noise even motherfucking carried on all to the times of you wrigglers. Now isn't that a motherfucking surprise?
u///u
Sure as tits does, Highblood. Only, ain't not a lot of brothers got their believe on in them no more. This motherfucker's got his vascular brimming with all what's the most righteous of spiritualistic shit, though.
[Was he actually interested in a conversation? As in, focusing and responding somewhat relevantly? WELL GOD he never had someone who actually wanted to talk about this shit without verbally pummeling him in the face so just... give him a second to process this.]
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Motherfuckers don't get it, sometimes, now do they? Heh, it all just goes over their shitty nubs and can't get their faith all on about an inevitable miracle event that will be all changing the motherfucking universe.
[It's actually...nice to know that his descendant at least can appreciate some form of religion, whether they are the same as his or not. Shit might've developed over the sweeps or perhaps the teachings and views might've become askew on the home planet. Who knows? Shit ton of things could've happened, but he's here to be all easing the kid into teaching him the original ways. If he'll listen, that is.
Religion is a touchy subject, he finds, and trying to change a motherfucker's mind about that shit isn't easy. Fear only forces them to hide their true feelings, and that's not how things go down in the Subjugglator's court. You either believe or you don't! At least, that's his rule about it.]
It all pleases a brother to be hearing that your thinkpan isn't just full of motherfucking sopor after all.
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i have no idea what i just wrote
highblood you are the best motivational speaker you need to do seminars
no don't encourage him he will somehow turn everyone into murderous psycho-clowns
nahh only gullible dipshits, oh look here's one now
oh god so precious i can't handle him ever forever!!!
ghbbbbbbbbbbbbb you're terribleeee flails around
asjdkajskdasd
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so many apologies i should not be tagging right now BUT I WANT TO SOBS
HDHSJDHJSDS <33333 ;w;
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