Stanley Pines (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
charlastan) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2016-08-06 08:19 pm
charlastan) wrote in entrancelogs2016-08-06 08:19 pm
You know, there ain't no rest for the wicked. Money don't grow on trees! | OPEN
Who: Stan Pines [charlastan] and YOU!
Where: Anywhere on Genosha, but mostly the sketchier parts of the city.
When: 8/5 - 8/9
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Stan's lived a pretty rough life on Genosha, despite being a mutant. He doesn't look like a mutant at a glance and doesn't have obviously provable powers, so he's fallen into a life of hard crime to get by and now...now, he's watching his great-niece and nephew. And an extra litter of illegally smuggled laser puppies.
The Story:
A. Dead End Flats - Stan's Shitty Apartment - 8/5/16 (Closed to Dipper and Mabel)
"¡Escuchen! ¿Qué demonios se supone que debo hacer con esta cantidad de perros?! Vas a tomar todos ellos o te rompo todos los huesos del cuerpo! ...Hello?"
[Stan stares at the phone in his hand and then slams it on the receiver. Great. The guy hung up on him and now he's going to be out twelve grand. More importantly though, his suppliers are going to be out another twelve grand, and if he doesn't scramble and get it to Rico soon he's gonna send his goons out to try and rough him up. Normally he could take it, but...he's got a couple of kids staying with him, and they don't need to see that side of his life.
The contraband in question, is a box of puppies of indeterminate species at his feet, mutts that normally wouldn't sell for any considerable amount. Stan glares down at them and while most of them are unmoved, a couple yip excitedly and shoot lasers from their eyes. This gets all the others going, and Stan ducks for cover.]
No! No! Bad dogs! Uhh...
[He looks around for something to help stop them from shooting holes in the few things he owns, and eventually settles for dumping out a garbage can and sticking it over the puppy box.]
There! Problem temporarily solved! [A beat, and then he calls out to Dipper and Mabel.] KIDS! WHO WANTS TO TAKE A PUPPY HOME AND NEVER TELL THEIR PARENTS HOW THEY GOT IT?
B. Downtown, some alley in a shopping district - 8/6/16 (OPEN)
[There's still a good amount of puppies left, and he's gotta get rid of them as fast as possible. If his seller ain't gonna take them, then he'll have to do it himself and mark them up to make it worth his while. He's set up in a dark alley, with an refrigerator box turned on its side full of puppies running around and shooting red lasers from their eyes at the sides of the buildings around them.
Stan's just glad they haven't realized they could cut right through the box if they wanted.
He spends a lot of time watching the crowd of shoppers. It's probably mostly mutants, not so much because of how they look, but because no human Stan knows has the kind of cash to spend in a place like this. He's also well aware that he doesn't look like he belongs here either, with his torn-up coat and ratty clothes. At least he's got a good sturdy pair of boots, but they're always filthy.
He's equally aware that everyone who looks at him assumes he's powerless, assumes he's human unless someone actually believes him when he tells them otherwise. Frankly, it's just made him stop spending the effort trying to explain. Besides, it always makes it him feel better to sucker people that assume the worst of him.
A lot of his time is spent leaning against a wall loitering, but when he spies someone he thinks he can sell to, he stops them in their tracks.]
Say pal, why you here all by yourself? You look like exactly the sorta person who could use their own animal companion! One with unique breeding, I should add. [Obvious code for "Mutant-born" animals.] You, uh-- wanna take a look? ...You're not a cop, right? No cops allowed. Them's the rules.
C. In your dreams - any night (OPEN)
[At night is when Stan's powers truly come to life. Ever since he was a young boy, he's been able to manipulate and traverse the mindscape, altering his own dreams and the dreams of others. He can even alter his own appearance in dreams, making himself look any way he wants to, or hiding himself as needed.
But when he was a boy, his powers did not extend far at all - just to the nearest sleeping form, who was always Ford. As a result, no one believed him when he said he had powers too. No one except Ford.
Once his father threw him out (for being a good-for-nothing dead-weight human who would never be able to make a living, let alone a fortune) he started to practice with his abilities more. Now...now, he's not sure how far they extend, honestly. He's tried to figure it out by trying to remember whose dream he's in and figuring out where they live (or at least where they usually sleep), but it's tough to tell. Essentially he has to skip from one person's dream to the next. They're all connected within the mindscape, but he has to pass through the dreams of the person across the street to get to the dreams of someone on the next street over, and so on and so forth.
The farthest he's managed to travel thus far, as far as he can tell, has been two miles. But he always tries to leave himself enough time to get back to his own dreams - if he doesn't make it back to his own head before he wakes up, he's tugged back forcefully across town and wakes up with a killer migraine.
He can't help himself though - there's always that itch to use his power when he's asleep, since he can't when he's awake. So, Stan wanders around a little most evenings, seeing what dreams are lurking in the minds of those around him. Occasionally he pays people visits, either friendly social calls or attempts to plant ideas in the minds of people who could be swayed to buy things from him, but often he tries to go unnoticed. That...doesn't always work out as planned though.]
D. In BILL'S dreams - 8/8/16 (Closed to Bill Cipher)
[Stan's still disoriented from trying to separate himself from this...this weird life the event's given him and what his actual memories are. But despite that, he's okay. He's reorienting himself, and he's fine. It's just more Wonderland bullshit; what else is new? ...Aside from the weird ache of the hardships of a life that wasn't even real. The same can't be said of Ford though. The guy's falling apart and Stan is livid.
So, possibly against better judgement, he's out for petty revenge while he can get it.
It takes him a long time to find Bill - he wasn't sure where the guy was living in this stupid event, and it's been hell trying to find his way. He'd gotten used to the general rhythms of the dreams of his neighbors and their weird patterns, but now that everyone is starting to remember their dreams have been changing to accommodate.
Eventually though, he steps into a dream that feels like it might be the one. He slips himself into the shadows and waits for either an opportunity to strike, or a sign to move on to another dream instead. But he's got a pretty good feeling about this one, and he's gotten pretty far trusting his terrible instincts already.]
E. Other - Whenever (OPEN)
[ooc: Got something else you want with Stan? Toss it here anyway!]
charlastan] and YOU!Where: Anywhere on Genosha, but mostly the sketchier parts of the city.
When: 8/5 - 8/9
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Stan's lived a pretty rough life on Genosha, despite being a mutant. He doesn't look like a mutant at a glance and doesn't have obviously provable powers, so he's fallen into a life of hard crime to get by and now...now, he's watching his great-niece and nephew. And an extra litter of illegally smuggled laser puppies.
The Story:
A. Dead End Flats - Stan's Shitty Apartment - 8/5/16 (Closed to Dipper and Mabel)
"¡Escuchen! ¿Qué demonios se supone que debo hacer con esta cantidad de perros?! Vas a tomar todos ellos o te rompo todos los huesos del cuerpo! ...Hello?"
[Stan stares at the phone in his hand and then slams it on the receiver. Great. The guy hung up on him and now he's going to be out twelve grand. More importantly though, his suppliers are going to be out another twelve grand, and if he doesn't scramble and get it to Rico soon he's gonna send his goons out to try and rough him up. Normally he could take it, but...he's got a couple of kids staying with him, and they don't need to see that side of his life.
The contraband in question, is a box of puppies of indeterminate species at his feet, mutts that normally wouldn't sell for any considerable amount. Stan glares down at them and while most of them are unmoved, a couple yip excitedly and shoot lasers from their eyes. This gets all the others going, and Stan ducks for cover.]
No! No! Bad dogs! Uhh...
[He looks around for something to help stop them from shooting holes in the few things he owns, and eventually settles for dumping out a garbage can and sticking it over the puppy box.]
There! Problem temporarily solved! [A beat, and then he calls out to Dipper and Mabel.] KIDS! WHO WANTS TO TAKE A PUPPY HOME AND NEVER TELL THEIR PARENTS HOW THEY GOT IT?
B. Downtown, some alley in a shopping district - 8/6/16 (OPEN)
[There's still a good amount of puppies left, and he's gotta get rid of them as fast as possible. If his seller ain't gonna take them, then he'll have to do it himself and mark them up to make it worth his while. He's set up in a dark alley, with an refrigerator box turned on its side full of puppies running around and shooting red lasers from their eyes at the sides of the buildings around them.
Stan's just glad they haven't realized they could cut right through the box if they wanted.
He spends a lot of time watching the crowd of shoppers. It's probably mostly mutants, not so much because of how they look, but because no human Stan knows has the kind of cash to spend in a place like this. He's also well aware that he doesn't look like he belongs here either, with his torn-up coat and ratty clothes. At least he's got a good sturdy pair of boots, but they're always filthy.
He's equally aware that everyone who looks at him assumes he's powerless, assumes he's human unless someone actually believes him when he tells them otherwise. Frankly, it's just made him stop spending the effort trying to explain. Besides, it always makes it him feel better to sucker people that assume the worst of him.
A lot of his time is spent leaning against a wall loitering, but when he spies someone he thinks he can sell to, he stops them in their tracks.]
Say pal, why you here all by yourself? You look like exactly the sorta person who could use their own animal companion! One with unique breeding, I should add. [Obvious code for "Mutant-born" animals.] You, uh-- wanna take a look? ...You're not a cop, right? No cops allowed. Them's the rules.
C. In your dreams - any night (OPEN)
[At night is when Stan's powers truly come to life. Ever since he was a young boy, he's been able to manipulate and traverse the mindscape, altering his own dreams and the dreams of others. He can even alter his own appearance in dreams, making himself look any way he wants to, or hiding himself as needed.
But when he was a boy, his powers did not extend far at all - just to the nearest sleeping form, who was always Ford. As a result, no one believed him when he said he had powers too. No one except Ford.
Once his father threw him out (for being a good-for-nothing dead-weight human who would never be able to make a living, let alone a fortune) he started to practice with his abilities more. Now...now, he's not sure how far they extend, honestly. He's tried to figure it out by trying to remember whose dream he's in and figuring out where they live (or at least where they usually sleep), but it's tough to tell. Essentially he has to skip from one person's dream to the next. They're all connected within the mindscape, but he has to pass through the dreams of the person across the street to get to the dreams of someone on the next street over, and so on and so forth.
The farthest he's managed to travel thus far, as far as he can tell, has been two miles. But he always tries to leave himself enough time to get back to his own dreams - if he doesn't make it back to his own head before he wakes up, he's tugged back forcefully across town and wakes up with a killer migraine.
He can't help himself though - there's always that itch to use his power when he's asleep, since he can't when he's awake. So, Stan wanders around a little most evenings, seeing what dreams are lurking in the minds of those around him. Occasionally he pays people visits, either friendly social calls or attempts to plant ideas in the minds of people who could be swayed to buy things from him, but often he tries to go unnoticed. That...doesn't always work out as planned though.]
D. In BILL'S dreams - 8/8/16 (Closed to Bill Cipher)
[Stan's still disoriented from trying to separate himself from this...this weird life the event's given him and what his actual memories are. But despite that, he's okay. He's reorienting himself, and he's fine. It's just more Wonderland bullshit; what else is new? ...Aside from the weird ache of the hardships of a life that wasn't even real. The same can't be said of Ford though. The guy's falling apart and Stan is livid.
So, possibly against better judgement, he's out for petty revenge while he can get it.
It takes him a long time to find Bill - he wasn't sure where the guy was living in this stupid event, and it's been hell trying to find his way. He'd gotten used to the general rhythms of the dreams of his neighbors and their weird patterns, but now that everyone is starting to remember their dreams have been changing to accommodate.
Eventually though, he steps into a dream that feels like it might be the one. He slips himself into the shadows and waits for either an opportunity to strike, or a sign to move on to another dream instead. But he's got a pretty good feeling about this one, and he's gotten pretty far trusting his terrible instincts already.]
E. Other - Whenever (OPEN)
[ooc: Got something else you want with Stan? Toss it here anyway!]
no subject
When he steps into the dream he nearly trips, and has to hold his arms out to regain his balance. Once he's used to it though, once he knows he's not falling, he's able to walk anywhere he pleases. Now that his real memories have come back, he can tell how different it is from just being able to lucid dream. He's been able to do that for years, sort of slip into consciousness and manipulate his dreams, and he's gotten pretty good at it if he says so himself, but it's nothing like being able to dream walk. Outside of the event it would take an immense amount of concentration to mess with his dreams, and even when he does it everything maintains a heavy quality to it. He's lucid, but there's no doubt he's asleep.
In this event though, his powers allow him to feel so lucid in dreams that he feels awake. There's no difference in consciousness between day and night for Stan (and ironically, he hasn't felt "well-rested" in years, since he's not truly "resting" when he's asleep). Dreams are just an extension of his day, one where his powers are switched on and he's only limited by what his imagination can do and create.
Still...being in this warped dream immediately makes Stan suspect he's bitten off more than he can chew. But he's too angry to care. The Shack hangs ominously above him, and he wonders if Bill's been waiting for him, if he set up this dreamscape on purpose.
Stan doesn't have to wonder long though. He's squinting and trying to figure out what that bright spot at the top is when a giant "S" flies right at him at top speed.]
Holy--!
[He doesn't even have time to finish his curse. It's moving too fast for Stan to just slide out of the way, so he throws his hands up in front of him, willing it to stop, stop, STOP, STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!
And it does. It hovers there in front of Stan, caught in his mental grip, and he stares at it for a moment, weighing his options. Ultimately, he goes with the first thing that comes to mind.
With some effort, he flings the "S" back as hard as he can, aiming for the bright spot at the top of the Shack.]
no subject
A feeling Bill is certain Stanley should be all too familiar with.
Human, triangle, a mass of writhing coils, text-- the light may not yet be entirely definable, but one feature of it is: A glowing, bloodshot red eye with a white pupil. The figure swivels, directing their gaze upon the source of the attack. Simultaneously, a BEACON of a red spotlight parts through the 'tornado' of debris to glare down harshly at the human below.
The 'ripple' of the sleeper fighting for lucidity is almost tangible as the entire landscape pulses from the ground up in a wavy line, like a skipping VHS.
Great job being stealthy, old man. Hope your cheap shot was worth it.
You know what else is going to fall towards you now, Stan?
Everything.]
no subject
Stan, who is growing more conscious by the second of the fact that these aren't actually powers he's had his entire life, can feel his stomach sink and twist. Whatever's up there definitely has to be Bill, but what the hell is he in his mind? People tend to appear in their dreams as they see themselves, but he's never seen an existential crisis on this scale.
There's no time to contemplate it. Suddenly, Stan is bathed in red light as that familiar eye looks down on him, and Stan tries to shield himself with his arm. It does little, and then suddenly the whole world beats like a live heart and everything, everything falls on him.
For a moment, it seems like that might be it. The dust settles and there's nothing but a pile of debris. There's a door sticking sideways out of it though, and with a significant effort it swings open, and Stan pulls himself up and out of the pile that would have killed him under any other circumstances.]
Ugh...that the best you got?
[Stan makes fists at his sides. One is immediately surrounded by blue flames, ready for any punches he may have to throw.]
You're gonna have to do better than that!
no subject
Up to that point, whether Stanley lived or died had been relatively low on Bill's priority list, too busy fighting his own ego and its never-ending search for its true identity. Shooting one more hateful glare over the edge, the shade dropped to its 'hands' and 'knees', shifting a couple more forms before finally settling into his triangular one.
Bill knew what he was now- or perhaps he had always known. When one was the all-seeing eye, it's not like they ever needed to learn, they need only remember. Bill felt a stab of pained delight at the thought-- BOY had STANFORD aided in THAT!
It had been overwhelming, of course it was, being blasted headfirst with a torrent of someone else's memories and emotions when you were already attempting to grasp your own meat-prison's synapses was no picnic! I mean, really, if Stanford wanted to SHARE what he felt to that degree, he could have avoided all that by just LETTING BILL INTO HIS MIND ALREADY. It was a waste of potential too! As if Bill didn't know what PAIN felt like! Granted several thousand volts delivered by himself wasn't an entirely familiar experience, it wasn't as if he had to suffer anything gross like guilt.
The flickering of cerulean snaps the triangle out of his turmoil. Flames. HIS flames. STANLEY. Of course.
The demon doesn't say the words as much as the entire word permeates with the need.GIVE. THEM. BACK. GIVETHEMBACKGIVETHEMBACKGIVETHEMBACK' That's why Bill has felt so out of control. He can't regain his powers until this OAF gives them up. Heh! The moron probably doesn't even know how to USE them! OH, this? THIS would be DOWNRIGHT CATHARTIC.
No matter which direction Stanley looks, he'll find only sharpened corners and odd angles facing him. Huh. It's almost as if this place doesn't like you! Bill is through hiding now, but why bother coming down when he can see fine from up here? Stanley may have the upper hand but Bill doesn't have to let him know that. Faking control will be a piece of cake!]
"CUTE TRICK. YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT PLAYING WITH MATCHES?"
[It could be Stan's imagination, but what appears to look suspiciously like smoke begins to seep out of the ground made of sky....it's probably not Stanley's imagination.]
"The careless GET BURNED!!!"
[Great job avoiding everything falling, hero. Got a plan for how to get back up?]
no subject
The entire world of Bill's mind is overwhelming and unsettling, built on his thoughts and feelings, with Stan combating them the best he can, but the more lucid Bill becomes, the harder it's going to be. The world is pointing daggers at him (though not literal ones, thankfully) and trying to kick him out, but Stan won't budge.
Well. He won't leave, but he certainly budges when the "ground" begins to smoke beneath him. He can almost feel the heat on his heels and before the flames burst upward, Stan impulsively starts to climb the wreckage as fast as he can, pulling himself up from surface to fireless surface. Sometimes it isn't straight up so much as sideways as the world tilts beneath him, but he always manages to tilt it back.
Then, he reaches the top of the pile, with seemingly nowhere else to go. He turns and looks behind him to see fire engulfing the structure he's on, and growing ever closer. Through the magic of dreams it hasn't collapsed, but he knows if he thinks about it too hard, it will.
For a moment, he's pretty sure he's screwed.
Fuck, he needs something, he needs a way up. He looks around desperately, trying to come up with something - and then it hits him.
With no time to spare, he gives himself a running start and jumps on a nearby plank. Instead of snapping in half under his weight though, it launches him high up into the air. That upward momentum doesn't cease, leaving him flying towards that light where Bill must be.
Stan spares one look below him and his insides tie in knots - there's an entire ocean of fire beneath him.]
no subject
"FIGURED OUT HOW TO USE THAT OLE' NOGGIN ALREADY, HUH, FEZ?"
[And just like that Stanley is in Bill's line of sight. By all accounts, the triangle is merely standing there; levitation being far too superfluous a use of power for the moment, he watches the human's ascent carefully.]
"THEN AGAIN, I GUESS you'd have to be PRETTY IN-TUNE to your IMAGINATION TO THINK YOU EVEN S͞T͜A̴ND͘ ̷A ͝C̨HAN̛C͡E ̛R̸I̧GHT ́ŅOW."
[Stanley's looming stature causes a flicker of worry and Bill temporarily laments not making himself larger; the conflicting sensations of spending the past week as a squishy mortal must have corrupted his perception for what a proper size for himself should actually be. Never mind that, he could work with this. Bill 'grins' each syllable dripping with aggression.]
"SO HOW ABOUT you get back to DOING what you do BEST?"
no subject
Eh. I dunno about that - pretty sure my odds are better than usual!
[Sure, he can lucid dream under normal circumstances, but he doesn't typically have this level of precision and control. He and Bill are on a playing field that's as close to even as it's ever going to get, but that's only going to last until the event comes to an end. His time's limited here. He's powerful, he's bigger, but it's all temporary and Bill has who-knows-or-cares-how-many years of experience here.
The fire moves in closer, and Stan can feel the heat of it radiating around them. He does his best to stand his ground though (or float his ground, he supposes) and glares hard at Bill. His fists are balled tight, ready to literally fight fire with fire if he has to.]
Oh yeah? And what do you know about what I do best?
no subject
[He takes a step forward. You think he’s intimidated by you?]
“And THAT's ALL YOU ARE YOU ARE, STANLEY PINES. NOTHING.”
[And another.]
“Not the guy who GETS THE GIRL. Not the BROTHER with the SMARTS. Not the CHILD the FAMILY RESPECTS.”
[He lets out a harsh bark of a laugh. GO AHEAD. STRIKE HIM DOWN. SEE WHAT HAPPENS]
“HEHEHE!! That’s not SAYING MUCH though, IS IT?! He’s not DOING so WELL himself, last I CHECKED.”
no subject
...Well. Maybe a little, but he's determined not to let it show. Perhaps it's because they're within a dream or perhaps it's because after all this time those are still sore spots for him, but either way it all still stings. The fire grows taller, moves in even closer. He can feel the heat.
Sure, he's nothing, but...it's not anything he hasn't heard before. It hurts, but it's not a shock enough to give him the upper hand, and he opens his mouth to stubbornly say so--
--but then Bill really does it. He pushes Stan's buttons, and it gets much more of a rise out of him.]
Yeah, and who's fault is THAT, huh? You leave him OUTTA this! This is between you and me, you stupid Vaudeville Corn chip!
[He winds up, fist full of blue flames. He's gonna do the stupid thing and swing.]