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.]
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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Ain't got to be ever gettin' my know on of a motherfucker what's kicked the spiritualosities the way I did. Got the best motherfuckin' friends but they ain't all too keen to start understanding 'bout all the miracle noise.
[A sad honk. It was nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff. Ugh, what, feelings get away what the fuck. He was way over this whole pie-fasting business and the way it made his high get its crazy ebb-and-flow on. He furrowed his brow, waiting for the good fuzzies to swarm into his pan again. Oh, well, motherfuck, speak of the fucking devil.]
Don't please this motherfucker very much.
[He honked out a laugh. Okay yeah that was probably the most unwise thing he could have ever said.]
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He leans forward slowly, bringing himself eye level with Gamzee.]
Your dependency on sopor is motherfucking disgusting, little motherfucker. Why do you defile your pan with that shit?
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Shit makes the miracles brighter, motherfucker! Makes 'em burn so bright ain't no chance of one ever slipping away and not comin' back. [A melancholic smile. GOD, he didn't even know what that word meant, which is a good reason to not even be feeling it! Determination! Wait it out, the fuzzies will return...!] Make a brother see the shit for real! Get his happy face on and kick the wicked nasty noise outta there, is what it all helps in doin'.
[He smiles for real now. Maybe they could split one later. It'd be easier to show him than to try to explain its "enlightening" properties!]
i have no idea what i just wrote
You are a motherfucking fool to drown away your sorrow and anger with fake motherfucking joy and brightness. Sure signs of all the weakness in the motherfucking universe, all crammed into the skinny-ass lanky little shit in front of me. [He's nearly shouting, but fortunately for Gamzee, this floor suppresses a lot of the volume. Then slowly, he draws back, closing his eyes for a moment.]
You will make your own motherfucking miracles, Gamzee. Don't need no motherfucking sleeping agents to be all getting that shit on for you, sooner or fucking later. Can't a motherfucker hear the Messiahs all getting their harshwhimsies on about what you can be all doing to fulfill your long fucking life? No, you can't, because the fake miracles and bullshit all conjured up by the effects of the slime are all blocking them out. Slime is motherfucking limited. The Calling is motherfucking forever, and it'll be bringing the greatest high of all in the end.
Just got to be motherfucking enduring the reality in the meantime, motherfucker. No wicked good shit...even the motherfucking sopor, all comes without a fucking price, you hear me?
[God, he feels like a real chump, trying to steer this little fucker onto the path of sobriety, acting like he can be all helpful and shit...but he reminds himself this is what he all has to do to keep the name of the Subjugglators alive.]
highblood you are the best motivational speaker you need to do seminars
[He's being quite attentive now, putting his arms behind him and resting his weight on his hands to get a better look at the Highblood. Insults notwithstanding - Gamzee was immune to any sort of verbal abuse anyway - this ancestor of his was the first person he knew that believed in, well, something that was probably the same thing he did? The miracles were there, the Messiahs were there... Even though he was from so long ago, the teachings were ageless. He hadn't known how fulfilling it would be to be able to meet someone who could enlighten him more about these things so deeply rooted in his soul.
Aside from even that, another curious thought prickled at his pan. Thoughts were always a fun thing to be getting. It was easy to get the deep ones while on the sopor - the universe, the miracles, all of those broad, endless subjects were fascinating while high. It was... it was the smaller, more concentrated thoughts that were harder to get a handle on. He seemed to be doing okay with them right now, which brought him back to the original curious thought.
Why was the Highblood going out of his way to advise him? Sure, he was his ancestor, but as the guy stated himself - he wasn't his lusus. So, why the preachy nature all of a sudden? It was curious, was all it was, and... to be honest, Gamzee couldn't really say he hated the idea of getting some sort of direction. From somewhere, anywhere. He could manage on his own, sure. He always had. And his lusus had taken fine care of him when he was around! Didn't put the blame on him one bit, that fucker had to do what he had to do. But putting advice into something he could relate to, understand, and fully get behind, was something he hadn't experienced before. It made him that much more willing to go along with it.
He didn't... really like the idea of not being happy all the time, however.]
But I got the believings all in me! I got that shit locked all motherfuckin' fierce-like inside that it ain't goin' nowhere. We all gonna get to that wicked mystical paradise what's at the end of this crazy circus, so what's it motherfuckin' matter which ways a brother takes while he gets to getting there?
[It was an honest question. He hoped it didn't make his ancestor angry again, but he seemed so knowledgeable, and Gamzee had hardly known he had had this many questions inside of him. Things always felt sort of straightforward. Then again, he'd never had anyone who'd truly known about his faith question the way he was following it before.]
no don't encourage him he will somehow turn everyone into murderous psycho-clowns
You think the ultimate reward will all just be motherfucking dumped into your skinny-ass lap because you just all get your believing on about something? That's just all kinds of fucking wrong, little motherfucker. Shit's gotta be worked for, you hear me? You motherfucking hearing me, Gamzee?
[There isn't so much anger in his voice as there is a sort of bubbling excitement. Like Gamzee, all the trolls he knew from his time did not have the faith, and didn't deserve to learn of its wonderment. It was just him and his Subjugglators, though sometimes they were stupid little shits a good deal of the time, at least they made worthy pawns. Being in this tower, he stood alone in this belief, and that just would not do.]
We did not all motherfucking spread the motherfucking wicked word, and spill the sacrificial colors for shits and giggles, motherfucker. We all got to be playing our roles in this coming of the Vast Honk! [At this point, he's staring up at the ornate ceiling of the cathedral, his gaze sort of going out of focus as he speaks.]
nahh only gullible dipshits, oh look here's one now
Oh... uhh... well what do I all got to be makin' myself useful of to be doin' to make sure what's all right with them whimsical omnipotent motherfuckers? Don't like to get my disappoint on of no brothers. 'Specially them brothers.
[He looks vaguely concerned, drawing his hands up and wringing them together.]
oh god so precious i can't handle him ever forever!!!
Like I all motherfucking told you, you all gotta open up them useless flaps all up on the side of your head and get that wicked message to seep into your motherfucking pan.
[Then he lifts a finger, like he's making some sort of astounding point!] But that sopor is all getting clogged up in your head, motherfucker! The Messiah will all say things at you, but it just won't get through all those colors you're all getting your look on at!
ghbbbbbbbbbbbbb you're terribleeee flails around
But... the slime be a good fuckin' thing! Don't motherfuckin' get why more brothers and sisters don't be gettin' their sees on of the shit what's that way. You ain't the first motherfucker to get their harsh all on about how uncool the shit be, but no one who's all ever gotten to be experiencing them wicked mystical crazies even got a sense to be knowing what they be all preachin' about, you know?
asjdkajskdasd
[He frowns slightly. Obviously he's not going to actually try one, especially being just...himself. If the effects of the sopor turns a troll into such a mess such as Gamzee, there's no knowing what could happen. Firstly, his reputation would be the quickest thing to go. Then his life, and so on and so forth. He doesn't want to be giving any of the lesser trolls the idea that he'd be that easy to kill. No way, man.]
How's about I all motherfucking proposition a deal to make it all be working out for the both of us? It'll satisfy even the most wicked harshest of the whimsical Messiahs, get your motherfucking addicted ass a pick me up when you all need it, and I don't got to be motherfucking having to sit here and listen to your shitty whining.
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Can't see how a brother wouldn't be all to get his agree on as to like, this most intriguing of motherfuckin' deals! Sounds dope as hell, Highblood bro, I'm fuckin' down!
[He outstretched his tiny hand to seal the deal, eager eyes lit with excitement before he'd even heard the details.]
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The highblood stares at the small hand for a second, considering if he should say anything, but then reaches out with his own hand, putting out his thumb and two fingers to grasp Gamzee's hand. An extremely unsettling grin sits on his face.]
Now that wasn't all so motherfucking hard, now was it? Don't be going back your little...promise now, you all fucking hear?
[Eventually, he'll have to regulate the amount of sopor the kid ingests. He wonders how well that would go over.]
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No fuckin' way, Highblood! I ain't no motherfuker to ever want to all be letting down another motherfucker... or, uh, I think I all was to say that shit already, maybe.
[He looked away, squinting and trying to remember if he had, in fact, said something similar just before. Fuck it, he couldn't remember. His gaze returned to his ancestor.]
So, what be the big mystical miracle all hopped on up in your fuckin' pan, big me?
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We will be doing this shit all one motherfucking step at a time, here. First step is always the hardest shit a brother can be all up and doing. Work with me here. [He gives Gamzee a moment to brace himself.]
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Okay!
[His mouth falls into a sort of open smile, eagerly awaiting the first step in this miracle plan of action!]
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Bring to me your motherfucking stash of sopor you all got hidden in your motherfucking respiteblock.
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Well... uh... o...kay, but, uh, why?
[He fidgets a little, eyes sweeping to the floor briefly, then back up to his ancestor.]
I can, uhh... be bringin' you all of them but the last one, I think.
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You may keep one, and only motherfucking ONE.
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Uhhhhh... I gotta get 'em now?
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Now what the motherfuck did I all say? This first steps just the motherfucking hardest part, but just listen to a brother, and we'll get the shit sorted through!
[Maybe it's all those stairs and the likelihood of him getting lost that makes GHB think back on this. Gamzee is still quite new to the tower, not to mention...stupid...] Eh, well, all on the motherfucking seconds of thoughts, we can be all hauling that shit out and organizing it when we all get the motherfuck off this floor.
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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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