towerofanimus | 420 ♑ [four-hundred twentieth honk]

Characters: Gamzee and YOU!
Setting: Floors 11 and 22, but he's wandering, so anywhere!
Format: Action is preferred but I'll match.
Summary: OH LOOK AT THE DATE TODAY GUESS WHO'S HAVING A BIG OL' CELEBRATION!? Of course, he knows not why the date is so relevant, but Gamzee has always been fond of those three little numbers. There is pie, and lots of it and whoever happens to interact with him is getting their celebratory zone on, no ifs, ands, or buts.
Warning: STONED CLOWNS AND STONED ANYONE WHO COMES NEAR HIM! And if you don't want your character high as a kite and seeing the most pimpest of motherfucking miracles, that's okay, too. I GUESS!!! Also, Gamzee's vulgar language always.

Floor Eleven

[The wall-less, lake-filled rainbow room. Why had Gamzee not found this floor sooner!? It was abso-fucking-lutely the dopest motherfucking place for any brother to up and all get his chill on. The magnificence of nature at its finest was slightly flawed by the numerous pie tins scattered around this sprawled-out troll. Their neon-green substance varied in completion; some entirely consumed, others half-full (never half-empty!), and other still untouched. Soon enough.

It was hard to tell if Gamzee was sleeping or not. His eyes were open, if only just, staring blithely up at the numerous rainbows crossing over what would be the ceiling of this room (if it had a ceiling), a stupid smile plastered all over his painted face. There were probably copious amounts of drool, as well, but who would dare look close enough to find out?

At some point, sometime, he'd made a flower crown for himself. It hung carelessly from one horn, tumbling over the grass underneath him as he lay down near the lake's edge. This was beautiful. Life was beautiful and perfect and this Tower was full of miracles. All of the people he met were miracles, this floor was a miracle, the oneness of everything in the tower was a miracle. It was all so apparent, now that he'd taken the time out to properly slam a few pies.

He sighed absently, fondly, tipping his head back slightly to marvel at more of the rainbows stretching out above him and lifting slow fingerfuls of slime from the tin of his stomach to his lips. Sometimes he got it in his mouth, sometimes not. That's all right. Things just happened the way they were all meant to happen, no motherfucking sweat about none of that shit.]

Floor Twenty-Two

[If you happen to run into Gamzee in the art gallery, you'll grow very tired of observing him. He seems to be rooted in front of a painting, slopping slime everywhere as he eats it, focused on the subtle intricacies and hidden meanings in each piece that captures his attention. Which happens to be quite a few of them.

The colors in this one, man. The colors. And the swirls. How do they even do that?

His disgusting teeth and gums are clearly visible as he gawks, droopy-eyed and slack-jawed in front of each work of art, not even moving his head when he takes another swallow of pie.]

Anywhere Else

[Got a better idea? Gamzee's meandering around in a sopor stupor all day. Wherever your character happens to be, he's likely to run in to them, pie in hand. Faygo will probably be provided, but don't expect it to come without a price! Just leave your desired setting in the subject line and I'll happily follow suit.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well...

[Still grinning, he sat up - which took a considerable about of effort, given the fact that as soon as he began to go vertical, his pan slid around his skull like it wasn't tied down, and he got so very, very woozy.]

Urghhh...

[Hang on, give him a second to realign his vision. And hold his head for a little bit.]

We know...

[Oh lord was the world at an entirely different angle now. He crossed his legs to match Eridan's position, although his didn't quite fit as neatly together as the smaller troll's did.]

We all fuckin' know how much a bro can down 'fore he get all losin' his motherfucking grubsauce, now.

And, uhh...

Sorta helps if a brother stop eatin' the shit when he first start to get the sick noise in his belly.

[Eridan had pretty much annihilated that pie when they'd first shared one. If Gamzee were more responsible, he would have moderated his intake. By the way, he still wasn't responsible. They'd probably have a repeat performance if Eridan wasn't going to be the one exercising self control.]

...really?

[And you didn't tell him this before? He's hurt. He eyes the pie dubiously. He eyes Gamzee twice as dubiously.]

Hahahaha!

[No, please don't make him start again.]

For fuckin' real, yo.

[He spots Eridan eyeing the pie, then eyeing him, then back to the pie. It was like a fucking Old Spice commercial up in here. When Eridan looked back at him, Gamzee playfully raised a challenging brow.]

Yeahhhh...?

[Eridan looks dubious, biting the inside of his lower lip.]

...we're friends, right, Gam?

[He stops the charade for a second, drawing his mouth into a little dot on his face and blinking down at Eridan.]

'Course we all are, motherfucker?

'kay.

[He scoops up a little bit of sopor with his fingers.]

I'll remember that when the hangover makes me wanna punch you a little.

[All aboard the high train!]

[Gamzee was always happy to split a pie with a bro. And Eridan was just so giddy when he was high, that it made it all the more enjoyable. He could even handle the puking! (It really didn't bother him as much as it probably should, truth be told.)]

If you keep fuckin' eatin', there ain't never be no over to motherfuckin' hang, brother!

[Bottoms up! Even though Gamzee was already high out of his mind, he had another couple bites. He could tell his high had been wearing off by how much he was able to articulate now. And that just wouldn't do!]

I'm not really sure I couholyshittherewego.

[Yep. Still feels like a hammer to the back of his pan. Eridan swayed dangerously as the world exploded into colors and shapes and smells - the smell thing was new - and oh.

Oh.

Why was everything sideways? ~~Probably because he'd swayed himself into the floor. Shit.~~]

Edited 2012-05-18 06:28 (UTC)

[Gamzee watched awkwardly as Eridan flopped over to the side. Oops. He should have probably been used to people falling on their faces by now. Should have made him a touch more responsible. Spoilers it didn't.]

Whoaaa, we all takin' a motherfuckin' glance up at them grassy dudes now?

[He slumped forward himself, over his tangled legs, chest and arms slamming against the ground, inches away from Eridans face, just... staring... down at the grass. Like a huge tool.]

Fuckin' bitchin'...

[Eridan keeps trying to focus on either Gamzee's face - and getting sidetracked by the grass - or viceversa. It's a bit confusing and it's making his eyes cross.]

So much greeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen.

...Whoaaaaa.

[SUDDEN DAWNING STONEREALIZATION!]

It's like... [He takes a fingerful of sopor, holding it up to his face to study.] ...like, what if them Tower bitches? What if they all went up and knew, you know?

[Where was he going with this... maybe more sopor would help.]

Uhh... oh!

What if like, they all... motherfuckin' went... and fuckin'... got all them green miracles, and like, fuckin' were to put them all at the same motherfucking place? Like...

[There was sopor on his finger. There was a blade of grass stuck to the sopor stuck to his finger. He wiped both on the green stripe of Eridan's hair. The lime of the sopor clashed with the jade, and the blade of grass was a dark, forest green against them both.]

Shiiiit. Look at that fucking noise, brother.

[Too bad he couldn't. Because, you know, it was on his head.]

[You got sopor in his hair. You are so lucky he is so far gone, or you would be dead. Dead as doornails. Dead like dead things that die.

Instead, Eridan tries to look at what Gamzee's doing, squinting.]

But. You listen to the colors!

[Shut up. That made sense in his head. Everything makes sense in his head.]

[Gamzee stared down at the little green miracle in wonder.]

You fuckin' do, brother. You fuckin' do get your hear on of the noise them fuckin' wicked colors be telling all in you. Get right straight-out mother fucking spiritual at you, they all motherfuckin' do!

[He sat up, just a little, flopping against Eridan's head rather roughly and pressing an ear up against the sopor/grass/hair mess.]

Can hear your fuckin' pan, motherfucker.

[The flopping made him wince. Ow!]

I don't think I can hear my own. Can I?

[He laughed again and bumped his head into Gamzee's as he did.]

I hear echo.

[And empty air.]

420 ♑ [four-hundred twentieth honk]

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this_is_SOPOR.mp3

that's my favorite song how did you know

personally, I prefer the remix myself: this_is_SOPOR_(pukeville_remix).wma

omg nope i'm outy

COME BACK AND DANCE WITH ME! ono

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