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!]
no subject
Hallooo! We are back from the war and demand libations!
[Fortunately, the place is barren save for that robot butler fellow, who only nods and zips about to fetch the booze.]
There is that. I won't argue that attempts haven't been made. It's more just astonishing that you've got all the most ridiculous super powers in the world — not to knock your machine speak but I've seen people pull shit you'd only expect out of a Superman comic. And it's boggling to me when even that isn't enough to quell the chaos.
But... [And here he'll slide into a seat, kicking the one opposite out for John and his tired dead bones.] We do tend to come from a stock that one would consider preserving. Thousands of worlds that have gone kablooey, and the only people that were swiped up for saving all had something big to do, or something big they could do.
no subject
Still, John grabs the chair and flips it backwards -- flops down into it and leans his arms on the back as he studies Richie. ]
So, are you the 'something big to do' or 'something big they can do' type?
[ Since you didn't exclude yourself from this description explicitly. ]
no subject
You could take a wild guess.
no subject
[ Or, at least, part of it. He doesn't really know if he was dragged here for his Ancient technology whispering, honestly, or something else. His uncanny ability to resist mental manipulation? His poor quality guitar playing? His surfing? His Top Tier ability to dodge questions and redirect topics? ]
no subject
Do I? Techie talk seems like it could tilt either way my friend, and you're dodging bullets I ain't even slung yet.
[He takes another puff. The robot zips into the tip of their table and drops a pair of pints down. Richie thanks him with an easy, "Muchos gracias," and skids the second glass to John.]
What do you think the consequence is? If you tell me too much. Is there someone else here you're watching out for? Some ancient god gonna rain down hell on you for spilling about the holy mission? I'd believe anything at this point.
no subject
As an expert topic dodger John is sensing something fishy here. ]
I could ask you the same question.
[ Didn't he ask first? John narrows his eyes a little as he draws his drink closer and takes a sip. ]
no subject
Seems we're at a draw, Pilgrim.
no subject
Guess we are. I mean I know my excuse, I was in the Air Force. What's yours? Sign too many NDAs?
no subject
[Uncle Sam has dick all to do with anything. Maybe in John's case, fine, but who among his superiors is sleeping in the pods? Who's awake to come dress him down and yank away his Captain's rights? Or whatever the hell rank he was again. He was getting everybody's sordid pasts confused.]
Please. I'm a DJ. Not a government stooge.
no subject
[ Does that even qualify as a joke? Anyway -- ]
I'm not really dodging things on purpose, it's kinda just... habit, you know? I get that out here none of it matters, it's not like they can fire me anymore, but...
[ There's still the natural fear of being fired. ]
no subject
John's protests spark sympathy. Richie's still damn curious about what his suspiciously mundane power has to do with his job, because the combo of gifted man and government screams MK Ultra. There has to be correlation there, you'd be a dumbass not to suspect it.
You'd also be a dumbass if you weren't calling him King Hypocrite.]
I get it. I do. Listen: if it's gonna land you in hot water, whether because your pals are waking up or your enemies are, then keep mum. That's your perogative, and nothing has to be anyone's business unless the shit is hitting the fan. Or they're making movies of our memories again, but that's hardly anyone's choice now is it?
[Richie purses his lips. Takes a shrug and a swig.]
If being forthright would help, I would be. I'm not about to start bending spoons with my mind or set fires with a blink or some nonsense like that, don't you fret. Next to the rest of the refugees I'm downright regular.
It's just that some things people are worse off for knowing. I wouldn't have to kill you if I told you. I'm just limiting the pool of people I have to sweat over if things go south.
no subject
[ 'Things people are worse off for knowing'. John's face scrunches up, then he lets out a sigh and takes a sip of his own drink again. ]
I thought I had the enigmatic backstory routine down pat, you're giving me a run for my money here. I'll have to work harder.
[ You know, give it some individual flare so they're not running the same act. ]
Guess I'll push the weary veteran side harder so we're not wearing the same dress to the ball.
no subject
[He chuckles once more at the assessment.] You're running an endless marathon there, pal. I dare you to find the sucker around here that doesn't have a novel for a backstory and a demon nipping their heels. That seems like it's their preferred breed of refugee.
Lucky for you, ain't nobody ever mistaking me for a vet. We're in the clear there. [Richie takes a quick chug and pops a brow at his company.] So. What can we talk about? Your life can't be entirely redacted. I know you're a Johnny Cash man and you get shot at, you talk to machines. Three for three isn't so bad.
no subject
[ All the most important things. He turns his drink in idle circles, thinking. ]
I also like surfing, Flona Cove had some great waves for that.
[ He's predictably Californian in some ways. John Sheppard is a man-child who enjoys dangerous things. ]