Richie "Bitch Baby Tears" Tozier (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
summertimeblues) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nysalogs2018-07-11 01:11 am
summertimeblues) wrote in nysalogs2018-07-11 01:11 am
Your lips a magic world, your sky all hung with jewels (OPEN)
Who: Richie Tozier (summertimeblues) & whoever will have him
What: A swathe has been cut through the ol' friendship rolodex, and the world is in shambles below. Aka old man sits on regretful dock by shitty bay
When: TDM era
Where: Thesa Station, clean up planet-side, Some VR nonsense in Nadril
Warning(s): Will give them if they come up
A) Puff the Tragic Dragon
[He'd had very little to do with any of the proceedings when Ysevrai reared that molding snout. There were times when a regular guy had the stuff to stand up to insurmountable odds: this had not been one of those times. Richie's focus had been on trying to wrangle the fleeing citizens, providing what he could in relief efforts.
But no matter, he's getting his up close and personals with Smaug's great granpappy now. Richie has stood in the glow of the screen for a good five minutes, rent dumb at the mess of ripped flesh and fantasy anatmony spread on widescreen.
He'd gotten itchy after two minutes. It sounded like someone was whispering a moment ago.
And now there's an ant parade skittering over his back. Richie leaps at the sensation and rips the shirt over his head, tossing it away in frenetic alarm. He sets to swatting at his bare back immediately.]
Shit! Fuck! Get 'em off me!!
B) Pacific Rimming
[Never in his life did he imagine he would be crawling into a tin bucket, gripping controllers, and waltzing around like some space invader in the robotic shell of a person. But here he is. Look at him go!
Roughly. Very roughly, but dammit all he wants to pitch in don't he? Bumble he might, but he'll be a damn fine bumbler that did his part. A better part of the day has been spent clearing rubble, but now his sights have been set on returning Olympian statues to their former glory.
Albeit with all the body parts in new places.]
Yes yes, much better! A marked improvement. Even truer to life than usual!
[One knight is playing limbo under the amputated leg of another. The several of them have their heads placed atop their buttocks or two arms sprouting out of their necks. One man is now a horse hybrid. Another has several dogs growing out of his back. The mecha pops its metal hands on its hips, a vision of pride.]
My work here is done.
C) R.I.P. Van Winkle - Multi Option!!
[And of course, there is the necessity of using the downtime to pay respects.
Beverly just never came home. It had only been a few weeks. For less than a month he'd had her company, the relief of a friendly face from home. Then she popped back into hypersleep. He'd gone to see Sandra, wracked with despair and hoping for her calm countenance, her petite fingers to card through his hair. The orb had gone missing from the gang's apartment, and he found it upstairs next. Encased behind a second wall of glass, it was almost too chuckalicious. The best he'd managed was a wry smile.
Steve Trevor texted him about Diana disappearing, and this time for good. Not long after, he joined her. Two peas in a pod. May as well get literal about that. The pair were inseparable on soil, and it seemed they would be so in slumber, too.
Taking a route less one jaunt traveled had him crossing paths with the hall of Vorrutyers. He'd sworn aloud when he'd realized the former emperor-cum-spy had rejoined their ranks ("For fuck's sake Byerly, not you too!") and stalked off in a plume of bitter cigarette fumes.
Trapped on Thesa as they are, he finds himself returning to stasis more often than he might regularly. He can be found at any one of these former friends' feet, feeding the interactive placards helpful tidbits for the good of the general public.]
Beverly Rogan, first pick for whatever monster ails you. Killer with a slingshot and even deadlier with a yo-yo. But it's her gams that might kill a man quickest.
----
Sandra! Oh Sandy, my Sandy. Great kisser, perhaps not one for long walks on the beach. Hell of a backhand, but you'll only get the privilege if you get sucked into her marble dreamscape. Work hard and someday you too shall know the kiss of her palm.
----
Steve Trevor and Diana Prince, the wonder pair. Neither one knew what to do with a pot brownie, but what does that matter when you're prettier than a pair of diamonds in the shape of Liz Taylor's tits? Goddamn, I can't decide if I'm gonna go blind or ralph in jealousy. Save the posing for the camera why don't you? They're good folks though, they have your back no matter the cause.
----
By-By the fly guy. Likes his food no spicier than a ham sandwich. Loves kids! Best babysitter on the block, send them all his way. Responds to "Burby" in a pinch. He might come off cold, but all he really needs is a cuddle and a cup of tea. There's a teddy bear swaddled under all that goatee, just hang in there and see!
D) A Song of Ice and More Ice
[The training modules are best employed in twos. This is a lesson he's taking sore pains in learning as he futzes through trying a hand at a slipshod igloo. The work ain't easy, no siree bob, and if he spots your lumbering, heavy coated shape in the distance he'll flag you down with an S.O.S. style wave.
Visibility is dim, mind you. The snowfall has been incessant, and though it's yet to take nastier turns Richie hardly trusts the damn program to play nice.]
Oi! Over here! You wanna help me with this before we get frostbit to pieces?
E) Joker's Wildcard
[if nothing up here is nabbing at you, slip a pleasant surprise into my inbox! Ask me for a custom prompt! Or pm me and we can hash a lil something something out. Anything goes!]
summertimeblues) & whoever will have him What: A swathe has been cut through the ol' friendship rolodex, and the world is in shambles below. Aka old man sits on regretful dock by shitty bay
When: TDM era
Where: Thesa Station, clean up planet-side, Some VR nonsense in Nadril
Warning(s): Will give them if they come up
A) Puff the Tragic Dragon
[He'd had very little to do with any of the proceedings when Ysevrai reared that molding snout. There were times when a regular guy had the stuff to stand up to insurmountable odds: this had not been one of those times. Richie's focus had been on trying to wrangle the fleeing citizens, providing what he could in relief efforts.
But no matter, he's getting his up close and personals with Smaug's great granpappy now. Richie has stood in the glow of the screen for a good five minutes, rent dumb at the mess of ripped flesh and fantasy anatmony spread on widescreen.
He'd gotten itchy after two minutes. It sounded like someone was whispering a moment ago.
And now there's an ant parade skittering over his back. Richie leaps at the sensation and rips the shirt over his head, tossing it away in frenetic alarm. He sets to swatting at his bare back immediately.]
Shit! Fuck! Get 'em off me!!
B) Pacific Rimming
[Never in his life did he imagine he would be crawling into a tin bucket, gripping controllers, and waltzing around like some space invader in the robotic shell of a person. But here he is. Look at him go!
Roughly. Very roughly, but dammit all he wants to pitch in don't he? Bumble he might, but he'll be a damn fine bumbler that did his part. A better part of the day has been spent clearing rubble, but now his sights have been set on returning Olympian statues to their former glory.
Albeit with all the body parts in new places.]
Yes yes, much better! A marked improvement. Even truer to life than usual!
[One knight is playing limbo under the amputated leg of another. The several of them have their heads placed atop their buttocks or two arms sprouting out of their necks. One man is now a horse hybrid. Another has several dogs growing out of his back. The mecha pops its metal hands on its hips, a vision of pride.]
My work here is done.
C) R.I.P. Van Winkle - Multi Option!!
[And of course, there is the necessity of using the downtime to pay respects.
Beverly just never came home. It had only been a few weeks. For less than a month he'd had her company, the relief of a friendly face from home. Then she popped back into hypersleep. He'd gone to see Sandra, wracked with despair and hoping for her calm countenance, her petite fingers to card through his hair. The orb had gone missing from the gang's apartment, and he found it upstairs next. Encased behind a second wall of glass, it was almost too chuckalicious. The best he'd managed was a wry smile.
Steve Trevor texted him about Diana disappearing, and this time for good. Not long after, he joined her. Two peas in a pod. May as well get literal about that. The pair were inseparable on soil, and it seemed they would be so in slumber, too.
Taking a route less one jaunt traveled had him crossing paths with the hall of Vorrutyers. He'd sworn aloud when he'd realized the former emperor-cum-spy had rejoined their ranks ("For fuck's sake Byerly, not you too!") and stalked off in a plume of bitter cigarette fumes.
Trapped on Thesa as they are, he finds himself returning to stasis more often than he might regularly. He can be found at any one of these former friends' feet, feeding the interactive placards helpful tidbits for the good of the general public.]
Beverly Rogan, first pick for whatever monster ails you. Killer with a slingshot and even deadlier with a yo-yo. But it's her gams that might kill a man quickest.
----
Sandra! Oh Sandy, my Sandy. Great kisser, perhaps not one for long walks on the beach. Hell of a backhand, but you'll only get the privilege if you get sucked into her marble dreamscape. Work hard and someday you too shall know the kiss of her palm.
----
Steve Trevor and Diana Prince, the wonder pair. Neither one knew what to do with a pot brownie, but what does that matter when you're prettier than a pair of diamonds in the shape of Liz Taylor's tits? Goddamn, I can't decide if I'm gonna go blind or ralph in jealousy. Save the posing for the camera why don't you? They're good folks though, they have your back no matter the cause.
----
By-By the fly guy. Likes his food no spicier than a ham sandwich. Loves kids! Best babysitter on the block, send them all his way. Responds to "Burby" in a pinch. He might come off cold, but all he really needs is a cuddle and a cup of tea. There's a teddy bear swaddled under all that goatee, just hang in there and see!
D) A Song of Ice and More Ice
[The training modules are best employed in twos. This is a lesson he's taking sore pains in learning as he futzes through trying a hand at a slipshod igloo. The work ain't easy, no siree bob, and if he spots your lumbering, heavy coated shape in the distance he'll flag you down with an S.O.S. style wave.
Visibility is dim, mind you. The snowfall has been incessant, and though it's yet to take nastier turns Richie hardly trusts the damn program to play nice.]
Oi! Over here! You wanna help me with this before we get frostbit to pieces?
E) Joker's Wildcard
[if nothing up here is nabbing at you, slip a pleasant surprise into my inbox! Ask me for a custom prompt! Or pm me and we can hash a lil something something out. Anything goes!]
B.
Richie seems like he's having fun.
The little raccoonoid is leaning against the control panel yawning while observing Richie's latest masterpiece and with an eyeroll, he stabs at the radio that I'm going to assume these robots have BECAUSE WHAT FUCKING ROBOTS DON'T HAVE RADIOS.]
Hey, Tozier, what's it like knowing that a bunch of gods are gonna murder you?
no subject
Oh swell, Rocket! Once you cozy up to the idea that you're fucked no matter which angle you come at it, it's really quite freeing!
no subject
[He leans back a bit, taking in the work Richie's put into this.] And I think you're right. It does look better this way. Art's supposed to be subjective, right?
no subject
[He raps his fingers on the handlebar.]
What are you working on, aside from scratching your ass?
no subject
[Rocket gives his neck a good crack and maneuvers the robot around to get it moving again. He's still not really actively doing any work, but now he's pretending to.]
That frickin' station gets too crowded after awhile. I needed some time away from all that crap. Plus look at these things! They're awesome.
no subject
Is that because you're finally over three feet tall?
no subject
That is a dangerous thing to say to someone who knows where the weapons on these things are.
[Are there weapons on these things? We just don't know. But Rocket can convincingly bluff when he's pressed enough.]
no subject
[Comes the immediate (and utterly fabricated) cry of fear. The robot clumsily shields its face like a sniveling child.]
I'LL NEVER SAY NOTHING AGAIN! I SWEARS I WON'T! I'LL WALK ON MY KNEES! I'LL CRAWL ON ALL FOURS! I'LL FIND ME A SKATEBOARD AND PADDLE MY WAY THROUGH THIS WORLD ON MY BELLY, ANYTHING TO SHOW WHO THE BIGGER MAN IS!
no subject
Dude, you're embarrassing me by embarrassing yourself. Not only can I not hit you, I don't even think I can look at you with a straight face now.
no subject
[He pulls out of the act. He knows better than to think pointing it out clears him of the bullseye (he'd bet money on the raccoon tossing junk over just to prove a point, it seems very fitting with his demeanor so far) but even so, it's all shits and giggles isn't it? He'll take the hit if it comes.]
I'm seeing what you mean about these things though. Don't think I can do the foxtrot in one yet but give it time. Where did you say the gun buttons were?
no subject
I was screwin' with you. I don't think they have weapons.
[This is followed up by a pretty impressive cackle, because even though Richie's act prevented him from being assaulted, Rocket still... won... somehow.]
no subject
So all the threats were empty, hmm? Guess it's just the 'gods' I have to worry about.
[He really ought to take this apart. Put it back to rights.
In a bit. He'd worked really hard on his masterpiece. For now he sets to sorting rubble in a demolished building nearby. Rocket's free to join in but Richie half expects him to continue cracking wise or move on for better amusements.]
You know, outside of that dragon shit, what other mystical entities do we have to watch our butts for down here? The Natha don't count, that's a given.
no subject
But okay fine, his laughter subsides, because it's clear he did not actually get the desired reaction, so back to work he goes, following Richie's lead.]
I dunno. This is all new to me. I've been to hundreds of planets and there's no dragons on any of 'em. [That's like... Asgard shit.] I do know one thing, though- there's dudes in them pods that'd be bad news for everybody if they ever woke up.
no subject
yeah he's talking about two of them with your pal gamora in nadrilRichie slows some. His mecha can't mimic all the finer movements, the subtle turn of his head or the way his eyes dart to his fellow robot. Foolish instinct, because there's no finer details to be gleaned from the metal bucket beside him either.]
Oh yeah? Any in particular we gotta keep eyes peeled for?
no subject
IT'S A SIGNIFICANT FLASHBACK.]Let's just say if you see any purple crapsacks... You should run.
[Somewhere, not even woken up from a pod yet, Mollymauk Tealeaf is like ???????]
no subject
Duly noted. [He's more used to the many hues people might come in now, largely thanks to people like Rocket or Gamora, or even Boxer or Sandra. He wouldn't go running if he saw someone strange now, but if they're looking too violet he'll give it a think over. Maybe snap a picture and send it over to the raccoon to make double sure.]
Lucky for us, so far they haven't roused too many of the assholes yet. We're in the clear for now, but the fact that they've saved so many...not too comforting, if you ask me.
no subject
Apparently, everybody deserves a second chance or whatever. At least that's what they said when I tried to convince 'em to jettison the shitheads out into space.
[Yeah, that happened.]
They're not too bright, these Celestials.