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i feel a weakness coming on
Apr. 30th, 2018 06:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spahDell wasn't opposed to the idea of a date. He liked meeting people, getting to know them, all that.
What he WAS opposed to was Soldier and Demoman setting him up.
It was just as he started his vacation. Engie was mulling over driving up to Santa Fe for the weekend (partly to get off base, partly for the art museums), when the two loudly announced they had found him a date tonight, 8 PM, at some steak-and-seafood restaurant ("EVERYTHING ABOUT IT IS AN AESTHETIC REPRESENTATION OF YOU AS A HUMAN BEING," Jane said, "OLD, WESTERN, SHRIMP"). He didn't even know they were scheming this, much less that they thought he needed help.
Really, he shouldn't be THAT surprised. The merc kept most of his romantic endeavors to himself. There was occasional casual talk and ball-busting between the nine of them over women (and men), dates, first times, escapades, et cetera. When it came to the real thing, though? Dell decided it was nobody's business.
Hell, he hadn't even told them about Angela.
The three argued back and forth 'til at least 6:30. But between Soldier's hounding and Engineer realizing it probably wasn't fair to let whatever poor woman they set him up with suffer alone in this, he begrudingly said yes.
So there he was. Tavish made the reservations, Jane threatened the waitstaff. All Engineer had to do was show up and look decent. To his credit, he ditched his work clothes for a plain dress shirt, sleeves pushed up and the collar unbuttoned; denim jeans; and a plain white cowboy hat (naturally). The restaurant looked like it was fairly casual on a normal day, but part of Soldier's screaming demands included candlelight and a table so far back from the rest of the normal diners that Engineer knew he stuck out like a sore thumb.
Again. He likes dating. And he's willing to deal with this for whoever he was waiting for.
But Santa Fe's getting more tempting by the second.
What he WAS opposed to was Soldier and Demoman setting him up.
It was just as he started his vacation. Engie was mulling over driving up to Santa Fe for the weekend (partly to get off base, partly for the art museums), when the two loudly announced they had found him a date tonight, 8 PM, at some steak-and-seafood restaurant ("EVERYTHING ABOUT IT IS AN AESTHETIC REPRESENTATION OF YOU AS A HUMAN BEING," Jane said, "OLD, WESTERN, SHRIMP"). He didn't even know they were scheming this, much less that they thought he needed help.
Really, he shouldn't be THAT surprised. The merc kept most of his romantic endeavors to himself. There was occasional casual talk and ball-busting between the nine of them over women (and men), dates, first times, escapades, et cetera. When it came to the real thing, though? Dell decided it was nobody's business.
Hell, he hadn't even told them about Angela.
The three argued back and forth 'til at least 6:30. But between Soldier's hounding and Engineer realizing it probably wasn't fair to let whatever poor woman they set him up with suffer alone in this, he begrudingly said yes.
So there he was. Tavish made the reservations, Jane threatened the waitstaff. All Engineer had to do was show up and look decent. To his credit, he ditched his work clothes for a plain dress shirt, sleeves pushed up and the collar unbuttoned; denim jeans; and a plain white cowboy hat (naturally). The restaurant looked like it was fairly casual on a normal day, but part of Soldier's screaming demands included candlelight and a table so far back from the rest of the normal diners that Engineer knew he stuck out like a sore thumb.
Again. He likes dating. And he's willing to deal with this for whoever he was waiting for.
But Santa Fe's getting more tempting by the second.
man, it doesn't show signs of stopping
Dec. 13th, 2015 08:57 amtrombones[Despite the namesake, Snowdin never snowed in. Actually, their inexplicable snowfall was mild to moderate most of the time. So it was rare to see the kind of heavy fall Sans stepped out to find. And definitely rarer when he woke up from yet another random napping spot (like cold bothers skeletons) surrounded by a deep snow wall. Like, four feet of it.
Come to think of it... where was he again?
Blinking himself awake, the skeleton groggily stands up and brushes the snow off his feet and legs. The only reason he wasn't buried in it himself was because he happened to be under a tree. So. Boy. He'd teleport out of here if he could see or remember where the heck he was, but uh.
Huh.
He cups a hand to his mouth.]
marco?
[You hear a faint "HUHUHUHUH" in the distance.]
Come to think of it... where was he again?
Blinking himself awake, the skeleton groggily stands up and brushes the snow off his feet and legs. The only reason he wasn't buried in it himself was because he happened to be under a tree. So. Boy. He'd teleport out of here if he could see or remember where the heck he was, but uh.
Huh.
He cups a hand to his mouth.]
marco?
[You hear a faint "HUHUHUHUH" in the distance.]
trombonesIt wasn't unusual for Undyne to stay a night at the brothers' house, even before all that fire moved into her place. It also wasn't weird for Sans to be up at random hours of the night, usually to make himself something to eat. This is one of those nights.
A small, skeleton-shaped something shambles down the stairs in the dark. Then it makes its way across the room, into the kitchen, and turns on the light.
Ah, there he is.
That motherfucker.
Thankfully, they kept most of their food where Sans could reach it. Cue some more shuffling around between the fridge and cupboard as he throws bread, cheese, ham, turkey, peanut butter, a jar of pickles, marshmallows, strawberry jam, Temmie Flakes, and a bottle of ketchup onto the counter.
It begins.
A small, skeleton-shaped something shambles down the stairs in the dark. Then it makes its way across the room, into the kitchen, and turns on the light.
Ah, there he is.
That motherfucker.
Thankfully, they kept most of their food where Sans could reach it. Cue some more shuffling around between the fridge and cupboard as he throws bread, cheese, ham, turkey, peanut butter, a jar of pickles, marshmallows, strawberry jam, Temmie Flakes, and a bottle of ketchup onto the counter.
It begins.
together we're going to wait around to die
Jun. 7th, 2015 06:08 pmyankovicThere's something sticking out of him.
As Joseph wakes up, it finally registers. His vision blurs as he forces his eyes open. The pain is incredible. Yet the only thing his mind is even vaguely grasping is that he's holding something. Sturdy, metal, and slick with... blood, he guesses. Right. Yeah. That's probably blood.
The next thing he realizes is that he's on the ground. Grass. He thinks. As his vision clears, he can tell he's under a tree. How he realized that after he decided that something was sticking out of him probably had to do with the blood pouring down his right eye, forcing it closed. There's a head injury up there somewhere, for sure.
Gritting teeth, he forces himself up. It's hard not to half-groan, half-scream. The most he can do is lean himself against his elbows, and once he's halfway up he can see why . There's a half-rusted metal pole from the old train crash sticking out of his gut. How the hell did that happen? There was bits and pieces of train debris scattered all over, sure, but how did he land himself just right (or wrong, in this case) that he...
Land.
He remembers why he's on the ground in the first place. Oh shit.
"ICHIGO!"
It's near-impossible to get the name out of his throat. When he does, it's followed by a sputter of blood out of his mouth. Not like it wasn't already hard to breathe in here.
Dammit.
As Joseph wakes up, it finally registers. His vision blurs as he forces his eyes open. The pain is incredible. Yet the only thing his mind is even vaguely grasping is that he's holding something. Sturdy, metal, and slick with... blood, he guesses. Right. Yeah. That's probably blood.
The next thing he realizes is that he's on the ground. Grass. He thinks. As his vision clears, he can tell he's under a tree. How he realized that after he decided that something was sticking out of him probably had to do with the blood pouring down his right eye, forcing it closed. There's a head injury up there somewhere, for sure.
Gritting teeth, he forces himself up. It's hard not to half-groan, half-scream. The most he can do is lean himself against his elbows, and once he's halfway up he can see why . There's a half-rusted metal pole from the old train crash sticking out of his gut. How the hell did that happen? There was bits and pieces of train debris scattered all over, sure, but how did he land himself just right (or wrong, in this case) that he...
Land.
He remembers why he's on the ground in the first place. Oh shit.
"ICHIGO!"
It's near-impossible to get the name out of his throat. When he does, it's followed by a sputter of blood out of his mouth. Not like it wasn't already hard to breathe in here.
Dammit.
(no subject)
May. 29th, 2013 11:02 pmlurkinDaud told her to leave the city, but let's say she's inexplicably waiting for the man and his ship that she bribed good coin for. Ok? Ok.
Anyway for convenience's sake she's hiding in an abandoned house near the shipyards. Waiting. Anxious to get out. Unsure of herself now, especially after everything that's happened.
As the days pass she stays in the house (the only place she was comfortable without a mask) and listens to the broadcast. Things were changing fast, and that was an understatement. The announcements in between were interesting too. She heard a lot of familiar names. One of them was Teague Martin. So he had become High Overseer, huh?
Billie remembered snorting when she heard it not too long ago, both with contempt and bemusement. Bastard.
Anyway for convenience's sake she's hiding in an abandoned house near the shipyards. Waiting. Anxious to get out. Unsure of herself now, especially after everything that's happened.
As the days pass she stays in the house (the only place she was comfortable without a mask) and listens to the broadcast. Things were changing fast, and that was an understatement. The announcements in between were interesting too. She heard a lot of familiar names. One of them was Teague Martin. So he had become High Overseer, huh?
Billie remembered snorting when she heard it not too long ago, both with contempt and bemusement. Bastard.
lurkinFloating lights saturated the Boyle estate's grounds in gold. The garden matched the bright colors with roses in every color they could be. Billie Lurk liked roses. She also liked animals. But it took every but of willpower she had not to roll her eyes at every over-the-top thing or person her eyes met. At least the guards felt the same way, judging from their boredom. Billie wished she could commiserate with them. But tonight she couldn't. Tonight she was a Lady, and she was waiting for a certain assassin out by the grounds.
Aloof as Billie was with her fellow Whalers, she wouldn't be caught literally dead by her comrades in what she was wearing now. Her red whaler's overcoat had been replaced by a soft ruffled jacket with a crisper, whiter version of her usual buttoned undershirt. Her mask was gone too, makeup hiding the circles under her eyes. Her charcoal hair was short enough, but tonight one side was swept back with a jeweled flower pin. Billie already knew what nobles liked to look like, but she picked up a few extra things studying the women in the shops she went to a few days ago. She remembered wondering if the smell of blood could have seeped into her skin. Wondering if the the attendants that fussed over the fashion sense of a common-looking woman with a lot of coin could smell it.
Damn. The soft, feminine thing? Slum-born Billie Lurk could do that, if she had to. She did her homework and blended in well. But that didn't mean she gave a shit about it. Nor was she used to it. At all.
So it's little wonder why she didn't talk to anyone. She decided it was just easier to study the red-bricked mansion as people came and went by her. Some complimented her. She didn't answer them either.
- - - - - - - - -
Billie would never get far enough away to ever be able to call Dunwall a distant memory. She didn't want to, either. Despite everything, the Outsider hadn't lied. Billie Lurk had no regrets. She missed her old life in Dunwall. The city had gone to shit, but being an assassin gave her a purpose. She still kept her old mask and whaling uniform to remind her. But she knew she couldn't go back now. At least she had her old dreams, born from listening to the stories old sailors would tell a curious little girl who often wandered the docks.
It was a bright morning. The assassin dressed and stepped outside. Billie still didn't have that ship yet, but she was working on it. It hadn't been THAT long since she left Dunwall. The docks weren't far from her home. In a blink (huhuhuhuhuhuh) she vanished and reappeared on her room. Careful that no one saw her, she dissapeared and reappeared from roof to roof until she meandered out of an alley and into the harbor.
Wandering docks and greeting ships. Just like when she was a girl.
Aloof as Billie was with her fellow Whalers, she wouldn't be caught literally dead by her comrades in what she was wearing now. Her red whaler's overcoat had been replaced by a soft ruffled jacket with a crisper, whiter version of her usual buttoned undershirt. Her mask was gone too, makeup hiding the circles under her eyes. Her charcoal hair was short enough, but tonight one side was swept back with a jeweled flower pin. Billie already knew what nobles liked to look like, but she picked up a few extra things studying the women in the shops she went to a few days ago. She remembered wondering if the smell of blood could have seeped into her skin. Wondering if the the attendants that fussed over the fashion sense of a common-looking woman with a lot of coin could smell it.
Damn. The soft, feminine thing? Slum-born Billie Lurk could do that, if she had to. She did her homework and blended in well. But that didn't mean she gave a shit about it. Nor was she used to it. At all.
So it's little wonder why she didn't talk to anyone. She decided it was just easier to study the red-bricked mansion as people came and went by her. Some complimented her. She didn't answer them either.
- - - - - - - - -
Billie would never get far enough away to ever be able to call Dunwall a distant memory. She didn't want to, either. Despite everything, the Outsider hadn't lied. Billie Lurk had no regrets. She missed her old life in Dunwall. The city had gone to shit, but being an assassin gave her a purpose. She still kept her old mask and whaling uniform to remind her. But she knew she couldn't go back now. At least she had her old dreams, born from listening to the stories old sailors would tell a curious little girl who often wandered the docks.
It was a bright morning. The assassin dressed and stepped outside. Billie still didn't have that ship yet, but she was working on it. It hadn't been THAT long since she left Dunwall. The docks weren't far from her home. In a blink (huhuhuhuhuhuh) she vanished and reappeared on her room. Careful that no one saw her, she dissapeared and reappeared from roof to roof until she meandered out of an alley and into the harbor.
Wandering docks and greeting ships. Just like when she was a girl.
