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.]
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!]
no subject
Bring to me your motherfucking stash of sopor you all got hidden in your motherfucking respiteblock.
no subject
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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[He brightens a little, still looking quite uncertain, however.]
You wanted to all stay here some fuckin' more?
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On second thought, no. Let's all get our move on to your motherfucking respiteblock. Walk and motherfucking talk, you get me? [Rises from the floor, staring down at Gamzee, waiting for him to get up as well.]
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He was sure changing his mind a lot. Which, Gamzee figured, he could relate to. Sometimes a brother's got a lot of miracles flowing around all at the same time. You just gotta grab on to which one's the brightest at the time.]
U-uh, okay.
[Stop it, nutrition sack. He stood up and promptly stared at the floor.]
I don't remember where my room be at.
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See, motherfucker, that right there is all the most prime of examples of sopor all filling up a motherfucker's pan with the wicked deafening noises of the colorful miracles that you're all too fucking fond of. Can't get your memory jogging, forget all the shit that's motherfucking precious to a brother.
[Then he's sort of pacing off to the side of Gamzee like a predator deciding whether or not to play with its food before killing it or going straight for the kill.]
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And what did he do when he was nervous? He fidgeted. And index finger crawled unconsciously to the hole that had been torn in his t-shirt and hooked in, tugging at it and probably creating an even bigger tear.]
Motherfucker's room number ain't all being that important, bro. Ain't nothing what is that can be to make this brother get his forget on in what's being all up and precious to him!
[And then it was time for Nerves: Phase Two, otherwise known as "Laugh Like an Idiot in the Face of Danger."
And so he laughed. And laughed, and laughed, and all of this bullshit that had transpired was just piling higher and higher and it was all so goddamn funny! He could laugh as loud as he wanted, too - this floor did a nice job of muffling the strange noises. The hand he'd been using to fuss with his shirt untangled itself and clutched his stomach to help quell the stupidity that was spewing from his chute like verbal anxiety vomit. It didn't help much.]
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But the laugh jars him out of his thoughts, and while his pacing doesn't let up, he smiles wider, closing in closer as the poor little troll doubles over himself in nervous laughter. This floor did well to muffle the noise, but it didn't matter to him. He actually would've liked to hear it in full force, to drink in the desperate sounds that matched the little troll's twisted face.
He stops when he's close enough to nearly touch him with his nose.]
SHUT THE MOTHERFUCK UP, LITTLE MOTHERFUCKER. [But his face shows almost no signs of anger. The same grin is plastered to his face, his eyes half-closed, looking surprisingly relaxed.]
so many apologies i should not be tagging right now BUT I WANT TO SOBS
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm fuckin' sorry!
HDHSJDHJSDS <33333 ;w;
Let's all get your motherfucking move on, Gamzee.
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Y-yes, Highblood...
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(no subject)