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beatupgrass) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2017-06-06 06:03 pm
beatupgrass) wrote in entrancelogs2017-06-06 06:03 pm
"The song 'If I Had a Hammer' is geared toward people who don't have hammers."
Who: Everyone's favorite trash panda AND YOU
Where: Wonderland's grounds
When: All of June, between events
Rating: PG-13, because Rocket's mouth
Format: Prose/Action (I'll match yours)
Summary: Rocket's dealing with some leftover canon update things and his best bet as far as returning to normalcy is working on his projects, both for himself and for whoever's requested them of him.
The Story:
a. if i had a hammer- peter, paul, and mary
Despite the numerous other projects that have been delayed due to events or Rocket just not feeling it, he's quick to jump on this particular request from Georgia. Not because he's picking favorites or anything, but because the challenge is unique and the results might benefit him too.
He has a motorcycle kicked up on the grounds with tools and odd contraptions sprawled around it, while he diligently works under it, despite the copious amounts of grease now coating his fur. Not far from where he's working, a CD player is blasting a song that he keeps humming along with.
Despite being absorbed in his work and the loudness of the music, if someone investigates the cheesy 60's music and off-key humming, Rocket barely breaks his stride before speaking up. "Got a question for you. How much do you weigh?"
b. you're the inspiration- chicago
Usually, Rocket stays in his room to work on his projects, and that holds true, but it's a really bad idea to test them inside, except when he wants to prove a point to someone over the network, ergo he's taken several out with him onto the checkerboard hills to test their effectiveness against makeshift targets and just work out some kinks.
There's a wide variety laid out around him as he adjusts and reconfigures each and every one before and after he tests them. The spread is varied too- some new prototype aero-rigs built with shoddier material than the ones he made back home, but good in a pinch, a few things that look like landmines, even more things that look like bombs. A few different types of gun, several melee weapons, at least one thing that looks like an arrow. Quite a few of them are things people have requested of him, if you're looking for an update or interested in seeing what he has.
And, of course, his CD player is back and blaring cheesy music. "This song's stupid," you might hear him say when this song first comes up. Later, you might actually catch him belting it.
Well, maybe not belting it more like loudly humming it and occasionally butting in with whatever words he actually remembers.
c. sledgehammer- peter gabriel
At the end of every day, once Rocket has dealt with his projects and put them aside, he can found by the lake, which is a really strange place for him. He's not really a fan of water, in general, but it's a nice, relaxing place to unwind and get the grease off his fur and chill out with his tunes.
...His tunes that are rapidly starting to get on his nerves a bit, though, like mold, most of them are growing on him. It's just that his attempts to get the closets to cough up "Peter Quill's music" has essentially led him to an unwieldy collection of CDs featuring artists named Peter or bands fronted by people named Peter, and he was too drunk to remember what Rip said about what kind of music that shit was, so this is what he has now. Embrace it.
But as far as anyone else can see right now, there's three feet worth of fuzzy raccoonoid sitting at the edge of the lake, trying to get grease off the top of his head with the combination of a rag and his own bare hands, while humming along to some Peter Gabriel. It's disturbingly (and unfortunately, in his case) adorable.
Where: Wonderland's grounds
When: All of June, between events
Rating: PG-13, because Rocket's mouth
Format: Prose/Action (I'll match yours)
Summary: Rocket's dealing with some leftover canon update things and his best bet as far as returning to normalcy is working on his projects, both for himself and for whoever's requested them of him.
The Story:
a. if i had a hammer- peter, paul, and mary
Despite the numerous other projects that have been delayed due to events or Rocket just not feeling it, he's quick to jump on this particular request from Georgia. Not because he's picking favorites or anything, but because the challenge is unique and the results might benefit him too.
He has a motorcycle kicked up on the grounds with tools and odd contraptions sprawled around it, while he diligently works under it, despite the copious amounts of grease now coating his fur. Not far from where he's working, a CD player is blasting a song that he keeps humming along with.
Despite being absorbed in his work and the loudness of the music, if someone investigates the cheesy 60's music and off-key humming, Rocket barely breaks his stride before speaking up. "Got a question for you. How much do you weigh?"
b. you're the inspiration- chicago
Usually, Rocket stays in his room to work on his projects, and that holds true, but it's a really bad idea to test them inside, except when he wants to prove a point to someone over the network, ergo he's taken several out with him onto the checkerboard hills to test their effectiveness against makeshift targets and just work out some kinks.
There's a wide variety laid out around him as he adjusts and reconfigures each and every one before and after he tests them. The spread is varied too- some new prototype aero-rigs built with shoddier material than the ones he made back home, but good in a pinch, a few things that look like landmines, even more things that look like bombs. A few different types of gun, several melee weapons, at least one thing that looks like an arrow. Quite a few of them are things people have requested of him, if you're looking for an update or interested in seeing what he has.
And, of course, his CD player is back and blaring cheesy music. "This song's stupid," you might hear him say when this song first comes up. Later, you might actually catch him belting it.
Well, maybe not belting it more like loudly humming it and occasionally butting in with whatever words he actually remembers.
c. sledgehammer- peter gabriel
At the end of every day, once Rocket has dealt with his projects and put them aside, he can found by the lake, which is a really strange place for him. He's not really a fan of water, in general, but it's a nice, relaxing place to unwind and get the grease off his fur and chill out with his tunes.
...His tunes that are rapidly starting to get on his nerves a bit, though, like mold, most of them are growing on him. It's just that his attempts to get the closets to cough up "Peter Quill's music" has essentially led him to an unwieldy collection of CDs featuring artists named Peter or bands fronted by people named Peter, and he was too drunk to remember what Rip said about what kind of music that shit was, so this is what he has now. Embrace it.
But as far as anyone else can see right now, there's three feet worth of fuzzy raccoonoid sitting at the edge of the lake, trying to get grease off the top of his head with the combination of a rag and his own bare hands, while humming along to some Peter Gabriel. It's disturbingly (and unfortunately, in his case) adorable.
no subject
But sarcasm is probably lost on a kid, so he adds, huffily, "I was workin' on an engine."
WOW I THOUGHT I RESPONDED TO THIS
How'd he not see a train? This place isn't that big! It's not even as big as his home town.
Greg steps into the water and kicks his feet, splashing around. This guy's got the right idea!
no subject
And on that note, Rocket will immediately get out of the water with a grumpy growl of discontent. He is not here for getting splashed.
no subject
"Motorcycles are cool! But where do you drive it without ro-- whoa!"
Greg's foot slides right out from under him, slipping through the mud and flopping face down into the water. It's not deep-- maybe a foot and a half --but it's enough that for a two seconds he's totally submerged.
Somehow, it feels a lot longer.
When Greg pushes himself back up again, his face is stone pale. He's struggling for breath far worse than that little tumble should warrant. For a moment, he's staring off into space, but then his eyes land on his teapot as it floats away, out into the middle of the pond. They're wide, and while they've found something to focus on, his brain hasn't quite caught up.