thoughtformed | catch all one-jackie dream post

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catch all one-jackie dream post

WHO: Wayward Vagabond, Hiccup, Phil Coulson, Peter Pan, The Once-ler, R
WHAT: i've got dreams like you - no, really!
WHEN: whenever between Feb.27 - Mar.2 during sleepin' time. up to you.
NOTE: please just state which option/character you're going for and tag away. yoo it's technically a log even if you're spamming me. 5+ comments for your activity. this is a good idea guys.
WARNINGS: some dreams may take a turn for the worse depending on who it is / what happens.

[ OPTION A: CAN TOWN ]

[ You have wandered into a beautiful place with pretty clouds and a floor like a chessboard. You're on a FUNNY LITTLE FARM that's growing PUMPKINS and CANNED VEGETABLES. There is a parade going through this farm and WV is marching lead in it. In the distance appears to be some sort of RED-STAINED RIVER. Everyone in the parade is a CAN with STICKS-FIGURE ARMS. They are PLAYING THE KAZOO. You will be waved in to PARTICIPATE. ]

[ OPTION B: HOW TO DREAM A DRAGON ]

[ Welcome to this tree-filled island. To the left: snow. To your right: some more snow. Behind you: SNOW. Above you? DRAGONS. All shapes and sizes and colors flying about. One in particular is poking a person. There are smaller cat-sized green ones that will land on your head and some of the bigger ones will land and go about their business. Or growl at you. Or try to light you on fire. Or just chill. I don't know there's a lot of dragons whatcha gonna do about it? ]

[ OPTION C: IT'S A MAGICAL PLACE. ]

[ You've gone colorblind! No. No you haven't. This dream is just in black and white. It's a war film! World War II to be precise. GRAB A HELMET. THINGS ARE GOING DOWN. People are shooting, bombs exploding, tanks. But don't worry CAPTAIN AMERICA is here. Only that's just COULSON dressed as Captain America saying some really cheesy dialog to his fellow troops while in this trench. Spotting him is around the same time you notice the backgrounds seem to be painted on, the planes are held up by strings, that solider just scratched his head with a gun, that tank is only half a tank, nobody shot is actually bleeding, and the budget here doesn't seem quite up to par with a real war. There's also a lady around serving cocktails that aren't black&white like everything else around. Wtf. ]

[ OPTION D: WHERE'S MY BACKUP CHORUS? ]

[ Is this the most beautiful place you have ever seen? Holy cow what a gorgeous forest of trees you got here! The Once-ler is in here somewhere, strumming a guitar and leading around a bunch of teddy-bear things. Bar-ba-loots are walking teddybears. Anyway, nothing out of the ordinary here. Except if you go to speak every word out of your mouth is going to be in song... No. You can't NOT SING. It's happening. Hope you can sing because if you can't that could be embarrassing. ]

[ OPTION E: THE DEAD DON'T DREAM ]

[ Dude. It's an airport. A nice normal airport. All the flights are delayed though. That sucks. Among the people seating and waiting, is R-- who is nodding along with complete interest to the lively storytelling of this handsome fellow. It involves the raiding of a liquor cabinet and is incredibly detailed, hilarious, and you should've been there. True story. ]

[ OPTION F: COME WITH ME WHERE DREAMS ARE BORN AND TIME IS NEVER PLANNED ]

[ You're on a beach. There's a ship just off-shore that you can't get to unless you swam. Ahead is thick trees that go into some sort of tropical forest. There's glowing in there like fairies are flying about-- and they might be. It's sunny with fluffy clouds. It's gorgeous. It feels like you've been here before and is so very inviting. The second you go to take a step anywhere though Peter Pan is going to pop up right behind you, completely out of nowhere, curiously asking: ] Are you lost?

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[This FUNNY LITTLE FARM is the shit, bro. Look at these orange motherfuckers sitting around all plump and rotund. Fuck. Forget the parade, forget swimming in the red river. Gamzee knows what he's about, bro.

He teeters to a sitting position, and attempts to grasp one of these wily PUMPKIN creatures by the handle. You know. The jutting out part on top.]

[ Woah. Hold the phone. This is a parade route, son. You can't just sit and partake of the precious harvest without participating.

WV runs on over in front of him, pointing to the FESTIVITIES. Get in the parade, you elusive creature. ]

[There's some callous fuck with a sash cutting in on his sweet pumpkin hour. What the hell, bro? Gamzee is busy.

But what's this? Ohhh shit. The sash has a word on it. ¡Que sorpresa! This guy is swag as fuck. Gamzee makes an apologetic bob of his head to acknowledge the egregious oversight of a brother's pimped out duds. He will eviscerate that beautiful round squash later. Now he must FESTIVATE with the people.

It is only fitting, because Gamzee is Pope.]

dAmN, bRoThEr... LeT uS mAkE sOmE fUcKiNg MeRrImEnT, yOu FeEl Me?

[ Respecting the sash is quite important here as this puts him in a place of IMPORTANCE. This is mutually beneficial to everyone as feeling important increases productivity of all those mayoral duties he gotta do. Like run this parade.

He taps the side of a fist to his chest to indicate that he does, indeed, feel you. Bro.

The purple one will be handed one of the many KAZOOS to begin participation. Because this is a dream and those don't make a lick of sense the kazoo is ENTIRELY TOO LARGE. How the fuck are you even gonna play that? ]

[Gamzee has never met an instrument he hasn't subsequently tamed with his bardic fingers of minstrel power, or just broken. But this kazoo is a real beauty. A prize catch. A big thing.

Not one to be daunted by the resistance of any item or person to being used as an instrument, Gamzee fishes a few rubber bands out of a pocket and strings them across the mouth. When plucked, they make a noise familiar to any tiny wiggler who has ever strung some elastics over an empty tissue box.

Sir, this makeshift banjo is twanging and ready for action.

Strumming it idly, not minding real much if any of the elastics happen to snap on him, Gamzee takes his place in the parade and begins a merry subjuggulator festival rhyme.]

I GoT My tOeS In tHe sAnD, wAtChIn hOeS PlAy vOlLeYbAlL.
It's sUmMeR TiMe, AnD I'M FeElInG JoLlY Ya'lL.
FoOd oN ThE FiRe, BoAtS In tHe wAtEr
aNd tAkIn tImE OfF FrOm mY SeRiAl sLaUgHtErEn.
HeRe fOr tHe wEeKeNd, Me aNd tHeSe fRiEnDs,
SuNnY SuNsHiNe, AnD BlUe sKiEs nEvEr eNd.

Edited 2014-03-01 01:31 (UTC)

[ WV watches in fascination, as Gamzee turns his horrifying mouth into a productive thing that can now be used on a significantly less horrifying musical instrument with a hilariously goofy sound. Yes, he thinks. This will do. This is exactly who we needed for this parade. No one else could play such a thing.

He gives him two thumbs up then takes his place back in the parade and -- wait. That isn't the parade song. Nope. But alas, it's reminiscent of sickest of sick beats from Dave. Not nearly as good, no, but seeing how there is a lack of Daves this will do right now. This is just what the parade needed. Some ill rhymes. Yeah.

RIGHT ON, WEIRD CLOWN FELLOW. ]

Edited 2014-03-01 01:48 (UTC)

[Gamzee obligingly nods his head at the sash wearing brother at the front and continues to bob his head and mumble out the lyrics to a tune every pious little indigoblood knows by gut, his voice a sultry blend of "smoked too much of something i found in the fridge" and "tuberculosis victim".]

ThErEs a mErMaId, WaViN Me tO CoMe iN,
uNdErWaTeR On mY BaLlS ShE'S HuMmIn.
sMoKiN On a pHaT OnE, wE CoMe tO HaVe fUn,
I GoT My dIcK In yOuR HoTdOg bUn.
pOuRiNg oUt sHoTs fOr eVeRyBoDy tHaT'S SiPpIn,
LeT'S GeT LoOsE NoW, sKiNnY DiPpIn.

[The kazoo-turned-banjo is angelic by comparison.

The parade is so ready to go, man. It's so motherfucking ready. He is on this shit like flies on shit. Whoa. Gotta remember that metaphor. It's fucking copacetic all up on for a rhyme he's working on.

Lead the way, my mayoral motherfucker. Lead the fucking way, and your Eminent Bard of the High Church of the Mirthful Messiah will follow.]

[ Uh. The mayor holds a hand up and the parade stops. He's waving his hands at him trying to emphasize his point--- but seeing how he can't talk who knows if it gets across.

Those lyrics are kind of explicit, sir bard. Please. Some of these cans are children. ]

[But bro. :o( Fine. He is the Grand Highblood of this one troll church. He will reforge his liturgies for this strange and alien culture.]

DoN'T HaTe mE CaUsE ThE SpEeDo i'm wEaRiN,
gOt yOuR GiRlFrIeNd sTaIrIn.
wE OuT HeRe, SkY'S So cLeAr, IcE CoLd bEeR,
sUnTaN, topless, BI- uh, a lady, come over here.

[His ancestor would knock his clock right off the block for this sacrilege but Gamzee is a troll of the world and he knows that sometimes, you have to compromise. Sometimes you have to speak in the language of the place. Like in Spanish. Victor's all about that shit.]

On sUbJuGgUlAtOr iSlAnD, wE CaN Be oNe.
LeT OuR, uhhh, our feet? hAnG By tHe wAtEr.
On sUbJuGgUlAtOr iSlAnD, wE CaN HaVe fUn.
We cAn lEt gO, bY ThE WaTeR.

[Surely these changes are more than adequate. Let's keep the merriment open to every li'l motherfucker out there, bro. Let's spread the gospel of having a fine ass time without actually saying, ass, specifically, but you know, kinda the same thing?]

[ Victor jumps at the sound of gunfire- until he realizes it's just beans in a can or however they made that sound effect. The rumble of a tank is just like metal sheets being waved off camera. He glances between the fuax soldiers to the fruity drinks, trying to parse what exactly is happening right now while he's kneeling in the trenches with his own little fake soldier uniform.

Weak little laugh, glancing back at Capt. Coulson. ]

Jeez, I thought for a second you were actually dreaming about a real war. What's this, like war between 20th Century Fox and.. [Trails off. What's another film company. Can't think of it, flinches again and another firecracker gunshot noise. ]

Wait, is this real? Sorry, I didn't mean to cut in the middle of your speech. Hey, how's it going. [ Waves aside an offered cigarette from another soldier/actor- those at least a real. ]

[ THIS

IS

AWESOME.

Real war sucks, but movie war rules. Oh my god, are they actually in a movie? THEY ARE ACTUALLY IN A MOVIE RIGHT NOW. OH MY GOD. John figures he'll play a long, be an actor like the rest of them, be the world-weary badass war-grizzled estranged family man he always dreamed of being and aw hell fucking yes he's suddenly wearing a dirty wifebeater! THIS IS THE BEST DREAM EVER

John glances from the crafts table in a far off corner back to Mr. Coulson and grins from ear to ear. ]

Wait, can we hear that speech one more time? I wasn't ready for my line.

Edited 2014-03-01 04:38 (UTC)

Not at all. Fascinating place you have here.

[One minute he's walking through a room full of the dead red bodies of his hivemate, the next minute he's... standing... in... this place that looks like it's a bunch of pouncebeast hack-ups on twigs? Fuck, it's bright. Like a creature of the night, Karkat hisses a noise and lifts a hand to shield his eyes. That's some kind of orange. That's yellow. Then fuschia. Colour diversity is great and everything, but it just reminds him of throwing Sollux, Tavros, and Feferi in a room together. Oh boy! Cut the tops off those fucking things and stuff them down his chute until he chokes and dies!

There isn't a more condescending sneer than this in existence in this world (with exception to the Grinch, of course.)]

Ooohhhhhh my Lo-

[He slaps a hand over his mouth.

Oh no.

What was that?

No.

What the fuck!

He puts his other hand over his mouth just to be sure.

A familiar guitar strums menacingly in the not-so-distant-distance.

Oh no.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Oh God.

The Once-Ler.

This is horrible.

He ducks behind two cat cough-ball twigs growing suspiciously close to one another, which seems better than hiding behind one. He is a blotch of gray and black among an otherwise colourful landscape. Please don't notice. Please don't notice. Please don't notice. Please don't notice. Please don't-]

[ He noticed.

It's not particularly hard to notice when the only things around for a WHIIILE are very very bright and colorful, with the exception of himself but he matches the tree trunks so that hardly even counts. The Once-ler strides on over, grinning ear to ear and leans over the foliage Karkat ducked himself behind ]

Whatcha doin', buddy~?

[This is familiar. Is this New Moore? He can't recall ever feeling like he's wanted to be out while the sun was shining before, but he supposes this place is nice for all the sun wrecking its shit. There's a sea-faring vessel that strikes a pang of ooooh no. I'm not doing that pirate thing again. The trees look like they'll offer sufficient shade and a good place to hide. Better head over thRIVING CHILDREN OF FUCK.

The inside of Karkat's chest explodes in hummingbird heartbeats when he jumps. He whirls his head to stare over his shoulder, horrified.] I. [False start.] I. [Who the hell is this? Is this a Carlos? No, doesn't look like a Carlos. Carl? Who cares.] I- [Help.] I. Uh? [That's different from "I." Good job. Now say more words.]

I, uh, was trying to get back to the bodies? [Wait, what if this kid has bodies hidden somewhere in the forest?] Of my friends.

[There. That's better. On second thought, why would this kid have bodies in the forest? Whoever he is, he doesn't look dangerous. Must be a trustworthy fellow.] I was just there and...

[Shit.

Karkat takes a step back, as if somehow that will take him away from the Once-Ler's looming shadow. What are all those things around him and why do they look so happy? Like whatever constitutes their souls was ripped out and replaced by nothing but a vapid, all-consuming happiness.

He shakes his head, brows furrowed. His hands aren't moving from his mouth. Fuck you. You can't make him say shit.]

[ Pan stands there, head cocked the the side and patiently waiting for Karkat to get an actual string of sentences together -- which is hilarious. He loves it when people get put off guard by him. ]

The bodies? [ The eyebrows are raised and going way way up to the hairline. Well THAT'S interesting. ] I don't keep bodies in there. [ He throws them off the cliff and feeds them to the giant squid / crocodiles / mermaids. ]

Do you need me to help you get back? ...To wherever those were. Not that anyone would particularly want to go back to the bodies of his dead friends. It sounds like something awful happened. [ a pause, then with false sincerity- ] Are you alright?

Thank you. Would you like a tour?

[ Coulson turns to look back at John. ] Oh, yes. Of course. [ He broke character for a second but then straightens himself out and goes right back into it. Commence the speech giving. It's very inspiring. It's hopeful, manly (but still cheesy as all get out) and probably going to be quoted by many douchebags in their yearbooks. He ends it with: ] And, son, put a helmet on. We can't lose another bright mind in our future. [ inspiring nod goes here and a dramatically tossed helmet for John to catch. He says nothing of the dirty wifebeater however. This is a film war and that ...apparently makes perfect sense as a uniform. ]

Okay now say your line.

[Oh good. See? No bodies, nothing to worry about. Karkat's shoulders soften, no longer stone. His heart still does something at speeds inadvisable for humans, but otherwise he seems to be calming down. An inhale. From his chest. No, no, no. Idiot. Another inhale, this time slowly, from the stomach. He holds it there, then exhales a sigh. Again. And again.

On the sixth repetition, he can continue.] What?

[He's not used to hearing questions like this.] Oh yeah, I'm fine. [Just dandy, really.] Thanks, but I think it's better if I look for the bodies alone. They weren't around here, it was somewhere dark. Blood all over walls. Then I was here, outside? I have no idea, but it's unconsolidated cockamamie to me. [Someone needs to rein that shit in and shape it the fuck up so it starts resembling a situation that makes sense.]

I've gotta go back since I can't turn my back on them? And it'd be shitty to drag you along to whatever's waiting to torment me over there.

[ Roxy makes a sound possibly only dogs can hear at the sight of the tiny bears. Trots on over to them, little wave to Once-ler before scooping a Bar-ba-loot into her arms like he's a teddy bear. ]

Geez, what are you from? The land of cute? I love it! Are the tree cotton candy- wait, what the fuck.

[ It's a little weird to say a singsong curse word, but it has to work somehow. Roxy gives the bear n her arms a suspicious look. ]

Edited 2014-03-01 20:05 (UTC)

You don't look fine.

[ He folds his hands behind his back and leans forward towards him ] A bloody dark room with bodies? [ Wow. What dreams are you having? Peter takes a step forward ]

I don't mind. I could help you get back. I know my way around. You really wouldn't want to get lost alone if there's something out there looking to torment you.

[One of Karkat's eyes winces half-shut, a corner of his mouth lifting in a sneer. Peter leans forward. Karkat leans back.] Bullshit. I feel fine. Stop acting like I'm not fine.

[Peter takes a step forward. Karkat takes a step back.] If I was to draw a fucking line showing how fine I am right this second, you wouldn't even be able to see it, because it's fucking microscopic. Not because it doesn't exist. It exists and that's how fine I am! [But on to more important things.]

Why are you so insistent anyway. That's weird.

Edited (HELP.) 2014-03-01 23:09 (UTC)

But you really don't look it. You shouldn't suppress feelings.

[ He gestures around ] What? It's your dream. I'm just some subconscious manifestation trying to assist you.

Certainly.

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Page 1 of 5

catch all one-jackie dream post

OPTION A THE MAYOR IS THE BEST

DAMN STRAIGHT

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COULSON

COOL SONNY OBVS

OPTION F

FUCK YOU, ONCE-LER.

HI, KARKAT.

AND PETER PAN, BECAUSE THIS DOESN'T SEEM LIKE THE MOST FUCKING AWFUL THING TO DO TO MYSELF.

OH NO. NO. THIS IS WORSE THAN DEATH.

POOR KARKAT...

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8D

WHY DID I DO THIS.

OOPS ONCE-LER

you masochist

I FORGOT TO MAKE A TITLE DENYING MASOCHISM. I JUST DIDN'T KNOW WHAT I WAS DOING!!!

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