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deadbones2012-03-24 08:48 pm
gundamkind) wrote in deadbones2012-03-24 08:48 pm
angst or fluff meme
Sometimes we all want to play some angst and see just how far our characters and and will fall.
- Go to random.org and roll.
- Play!
1. just depressed.
Things are tough, you're feeling worn out, or whatever the case, you're depressed. You need help or someone else thinks you do anyway.
2. abandoned.
You were left behind by everyone you hold dear and now you're forced to see how well they've adjusted, how happy they all are while you're screaming inside.
3. sick.
Cold, flu, or something even worse, all you can do is lay back and let someone take care of you.
4. fight.
You've been fighting nonstop with the other person and it just keep escalating.
5. break up.
You're being broken up with and they won't reconsider... Damn.
6. separated.
For some reason, you've been separated from the other person for a long time.
7. kidnapped.
You've been held captive for how long now? Maybe they've been torturing you even, using your blood to write ransom notes, threatening to cut off fingers to send next, etc. Rescue is on the way though, right?
8. beaten up.
Just because someone didn't like you or maybe they wanted something you had, whatever the case is, you're coming home sporting some nasty wounds and bruises.
9. jealousy.
You just have this undeniable jealousy suddenly and you need to let it out.
10. cheated on.
This goes beyond just suspicion and you have full on proof of what your lover has done. How do you handle it?
11. apathetic.
You're not sad, you're not happy, you just... don't feel much anymore. The sparkle of life has gone right out of you and you're just going through the motions now.
12. addicted.
Drugs, alcohol, whatever your drug of choice is, you can't fight the draw and you can't draw yourself out of the hole, but the other person is going to try.
13. bad romance.
You know this isn't good for either of you, but you can't stop now.
14. fear.
Nightmares, the feeling someone is following you, etc. You can't shake the feeling.
15. insanity.
You're seeing things and hearing them, waking up only to realize you've done things you don't remember or you're in a place you weren't before. You're losing it and you don't know what to do.
16. guilt.
It's eating you up inside and you have to tell someone about it now. You want to be punished and you won't take no for an answer.
17. loss
You've lost something dear to you.
18. wild card.
Combine some options or make your own!
fluff scenario
1. Sick day. You're down with the flu or some injury. Whatever the reason, you're bedridden or at the hospital. Aren't you lucky that that special someone came to visit you?
2. Date night. You've made special plans to show that special someone just how much you love them and nothing can go wrong tonight.
3. Cheer up. One or both of you is feeling down and it's time to get out of that slump by either finding a way to distract yourself or talking it out with the other person.
4. Love confession. Your stomach is doing flip flops and your heart is racing, but you've read all the signs right, and it's time to let that other person know you feel the same way.
5. Special gift. Maybe it's the first time, or maybe this is the gift that really counts. Birthday, Christmas, or just a random present, you've been planning and saving up for this one and are hoping that special person will like it.
6. Last time (for awhile). One of you is going away for some reason (it can be as simple or angsty as you want it to be) and you may be back or you may not, but you want to spend the time you've got left where you are with someone special.
7. Pillow talk. You've just had fantastic sex (which playing out is optional!) and you're both content to lay back and enjoy a little bit of pillow talk or maybe go for round two as soon as you catch your breath!
8. Shared dessert. Whether it's because you're both cheap or you're one of those cute, lovey-dovey couples who love sharing desserts, the two of you are sharing that delicious ice cream sundae or cake with one another. Did some of it get on your partner's nose? Or maybe you want to go ahead and take a bite out of the cookie sticking out of their mouth.
9. Need a friend. You just want to hang out with the guys/girls and have a little fun.
10. I'm sorry. You had a fight with someone and now it's time to kiss and make up. . . or at least make up.
11. A moment at home. There's nothing better than enjoying a peaceful day without anything to worry about. Maybe you'll share a book with a friend, or just enjoy some tea and catch up.
12. Been so long. You're back after a long trip somewhere and now it's time to meet up with someone you've missed a lot and make up for lost time!
13. I'll defend you until the end. You're going to fight for that person and you're going to let them know it or show them, whichever comes first.
14. Pillow fight. You're both feeling the need to have some friendly horseplaying, and what better way than with pillows?
15. Wild card. Reroll, pick an option, or come up with something else.
13. YOU AND MEEE COULD HAVE A BAD ROMAAANCE
Can't.
Keep away.]
'Sup Gamzee.
That...icon.. : O (Going with sober for this one, to put the "Bad" in Bad Romance...)
Just an incoherent alien, who reminds him a little too much of an old weak self. You shouldn't be half as charming, as fascinating.
But then again, you do manage to get the jump on him, even when you can't walk straight.
And old addictions die hard.
Plus you can rap.]
... What the MOTHERFUCK is supping on that pinkpan today RO- motherfucking LAL?
Best icon. and aww yeah bring it bby
[Of course the moment he speaks and she has been noticed, she begins to think that this was a terrible idea. but only for a moment. No regrets and all that, she just finds him so fascinating somehow. ]
Not a lot. Pretty fuckin' wasted to be honest. What are you up to down here in the dark?
It is so brought. Brought like a potluck dinner.
He pauses, considers, then raises ten gory fingers with a serial killer smile.]
What's it look like? I'm FINGERPAINTING. Honk! HONK.
With real fingers. OH FUCKER, am I PAINTING THE MIRACLES with the MOTHERFUCKING REAL motherfucking FINGERS!
[He lowers his hands, and considers his carnival.]
...Shit. Could use some of that candy-red. If it didn't GET THE DRYNESS ON all dullbrown straight up mysticalifying how it MOTHERFUCKING DOES THAT.
[Then, as if he hadn't been casually considering what you'd look like on a wall, he adds conversationally,]
My green straight out walked off on me. MOTHERFUCKING ZOMBIES can't be APPRECIATING the MOTHERFUCKING FINER THINGS.
hellz yeah
Fingerpainting huh. That's pretty fucked up Gamzee. Like seriously.
[Still, she ignores her better judgement and moves closer, so that she can see for herself what he has been painting. It smells, of blood and death, enough to actually make her shiver for a moment.]
I guess it's lucky for me I'm not green then huh.
no subject
The twinge of pity thrums through him like a chord. The only thing this apocalypse has infected him with thus far is mood. One day, he can hate you passionately, the next he'll pity, the next he'll feel nothing at all--you're just a fluke, something to be ignored.
His fingers twitch, rise, half-stretched towards your throat. They stop.
He lowers the hand, considering.
If you were green? Would you stand so close? Offering yourself like a sacrificial woolbeast led innocently astray?
His lips peel back in a growl, appetite for violence gone in a flash of mood, in a twitch of pity. All hesitation is pity.]
Don't talk to a fucker about luck. Ain't no motherfucking THING as luck.
[He can smell the weird, alien animal smell of you, the bite of your clear-drink-sopor, something strange and flowery he suspects is your hair.
Abruptly, he wants to paint your face, discards the thought in a splash of self-directed anger which rises into the thought that perhaps you want to be sacrificed. That you want to be destroyed.]
Luck isn't green.
Don't know WHAT color that mythic MOTHERFUCKER is. It isn't indigo...maybe.
MAYBE.
no subject
[Being so close is un-nevering, especially with the way his fingers trace along her throat. One quick snap and she could be dead, why does she keep coming back to be around someone so dangerous as him?]
Maybe it doesn't have a color. Ever thing of that?
no subject
It's all got colors.
Otherwise it isn't MOTHERFUCKING ALIVE.
[His shoulders lower, his entire body drooping down into a hunch like a lapsed marionette.]
But it doesn't exist, so maybe... just like MIRACLES
[And like you've told him some spoiler to the universe, he slumps, smears a handprint down the wall.]
It doesn't have a color. Feels right.
[Some sense of inevitable destruction tells him you'll come closer, no matter what he does. You'll continue to be here.
There's an intake of breath, a turn of his had so he can fix one orange eye on you. Uncertainty, where for a moment, even crazy, and wasted as a beanpole, he actually looks younger than you, the mumble low and rough.]
...Are we painting? Or did you come to SLAM?
[Halting, genuinely questioning. He doesn't know what you want. He never knows. And he suspects with growing horror that you fascinate him too much for an alien. For a human. The blackness of your mouth is altogether too trollish, the pink of your eyes too royal.]
no subject
And then she smirks, and it looks almost cruel. She actually has no idea what they are doing. Why was she even here?]
Hey I'm just the drunk girl, I do as I'm told. Painting, slamming, what do you feel like doing Gamzee?
no subject
One big vacant void where the fear should be... Something he can't really touch or understand, or mold.
It's a wonder a person without fear can feel anything at all.
And that's scary.
His skinny shoulders duck in and he gives a compulsive shiver, half-curling with his forehead pressed against the bloody wall. Small and lost]
...I don't know...
[His spine straightens abruptly, the glaring eye twisting back with a snarl.]
What the MOTHERFUCK do you want with me? Is it pity? Is it the MOTHERFUCKING PITY you've got GOING DOWN FOR THE CLOWN?! It can't be hate can't be the MOTHERFUCKING HATE with all that BROKEN FEARMIRTH in you you wouldn't understand.
[His face twists up, crumples, bowing against the wall again, hands against it like a penitent, mumbling to himself with weird, desperate choked laughter.]
...Guess I need to paint a picture, EXECUTE some motherfucking METAPHORS what get too close in order to GET THE MOTHERFUCKING UNDERSTAND ON.
'Cause there ain't no fuckers misunderstanding the fear fierce as you- as MOTHERFUCKING YOU. Whole worlds full of the dead fuckers making this a MOTHERFUCKING DREAMSCAPE for the WICKED NIGHTMARES and you still can't get your scare on.
Got me all WAITING for that MOTHERFUCKING PUNCHLINE, Ro-Lal. Got me waiting- WAITING!
-to see why a fucker needs a clown if there's no KILLER JOKES to be HARSHED OUT if there's no laughs, and no slaughter.
[He's watching a little too closely, searching your tipsy face for some thread of understanding, some dawning light of revelation.
Impulsively, he wonders if maybe he could hit you with one of his gathered heads, if maybe the threat of a bite would get him the answers he wants.]
no subject
As to why? She can't even say. The shouting she is used to by now, even the sight of blood dripping from his hands, but suddenly when all his attention is focused on her, the shouting is at her, it sends a chill down her spine as she takes a step back.]
I... I don't know. Maybe I do pity you in a way.. you're even more fucked up than I am, Gamzee.
no subject
...That.
Hits somewhere vulnerable. Hits right in the soft bit of him that wants to believe in miracles, in a world where the plague didn't spread out, and people don't have to be scared of being dead or alone-
A Paradise.
For a long moment he just stands there, staring, not even breathing, big wide yellow eyes, and stupidly agape mouth. Then he blinks. Blinks again, hard, and wraps skeletal fingers around his wrist, gripping it tightly, looking away.]
...Don't have a broken fear-feeler like you-
I'm not THAT motherFUCKED UP.
[Even the rough alternating shout seems smaller, rougher.
Humans don't get it, a little voice in the back of his head keeps saying. Humans don't get it...
Yes? So what.
The words form slowly, deliberately.]
...but a fucker can't see no wrongs in feels like that. I like you TOO, motherfucker, though I'll be KICKING THE IGNORANCE on the MOTHERFUCKING KNOW-WHY. Probably because your pan's all off like mine- like MOTHERFUCKING mine.
Wouldn't mind painting your face, though. Or maybe KNOCKING THAT PINKNUB AROUND some if the dead brothers don't have much to say about it.
[This could all just be some grand joke, some grand play on his loneliness, on his pity-starving. He half-expects it to be a prank. Half-expects it to hurt, this sudden inexplicable draw you seem to have...
Half of him doesn't care because deep down he's dimly sick of talking to corpses, and hoarding lifeless heads, craving company--real company, and wondering if maybe infection's the only way it all ends.
Even if it's some alien somewhere who scares him by not being scared, by being stupored and tipsy. Maybe the universe won't be a huge, horrible joke for once?
He's a believer, but even he can't believe there isn't a punchline coming, no matter how much he tries to question otherwise.
It's just a matter of when. A possible cause for your strangeness strikes him.]
...You aren't coming down with the wicked infection, are you?
[Even that idea isn't entirely unattractive.]
no subject
[ He is distracted, she could leave. She should leave. But she doesn't. Gamzee is completely right, there is something wrong with her, she's damaged in some way.
She knows she should fear him, should be scared shitless of the situation they are in right now, so why isn't she?]
Is it too hard to believe that I just want to be here? Then I guess it is, I can't even tell you why. Just that I want to.
Paint my face if you want, but I don't think you want to do those other things to me, do you? Not really. Gotta be a little sick of hanging around with dead corpses, aren't you? Just like I'm sick of hanging around everyone up here with their perfect lives and ignorance.
no subject
Don't be telling a descendant how his feels run.
Don't EVER.
If a fucker's saying he wouldn't mind-
It MEANS I wouldn't motherFUCKING MIND ripping on a monkey!</>
[You aren't scared. For all he can see, anyway. You're broken in the head. Weird patience in him--you need to be taught. You need to know. It isn't an inherently malicious desire. It's almost protective, even, a touch of wistfulness to the mumble.]
You wouldn't be getting your leave on if I did, you know. Wouldn't be any more motherfucking ABANDON going DOWN.
...Even they tried to walk away. EVEN THE DEAD MOTHERFUCKERS tried to MOTHERFUCKING LEAVE!
[Your sister would probably have a field day with Gamzee. Your first alien and it turns out he's got a psychological disorder... In humans, schizoid tendencies are supposed to be the product of complexes which develop their own seperate embodiments. In trolls, who knows, but he still looks a little sad, strangely pathetic as he looks back at you.
Humans don't get it, he repeats to himself, like a starving street begger misting the glass of a bakery window with his want.
If he did anything to you, all the humans might run him off. There might really be nobody but corpses. No Dave, with his delicious fear and potential, hiding, quivering under his fragile "cool". No pie-baking "dad" human-lusus bringing him rescued harlequin dolls. No robots praising the distant cult-gods of irony, sparring with rhyme. Just corpses and desolation.
It's wary, mirthless fear that holds him back. There's nothing funny about loneliness. Nothing funny at all. He shivers.]
...Ever been one with the painting before, Ro-lal?
It's motherfucking SACRED one of the great miracle mysteries passed down by the mirthful messiahs to cover the face-naked the Penitent done recognized when he was outed from his paradise planet.