#lukia26

07. — caustic

"Can I help you?"

Oval huffs a sigh and a loose curl out of her face, pausing the trid on her PDA to look up at the man looming over her. His arms are folded across his chest. Rather strategically too, she thinks, trying to show off his muscles and tattoos. He's some wannabe ganger-- someone who's had enough people stroke his ego and enough people act scared of him that he thinks he's the baddest man to ever live.

She is, to him, just some satyr girl in purple and too much jewelry, perched on the curb in his space.

He stares down at her.

She stares back.

"Hello?" He asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Hi. Why are you bothering me?"

The man laughs. Something humorless and nasty. Something that says the gall of this little girl.

"Bothering you? You're the one that's been staring at me like you're trying to... explode me with your brain. I came over here to shut you up."

"...explode you with my brain. Wow." She turns her attention back to her PDA. "I've been told I have a pretty caustic stare. Sue me for having RBF. Why even tell me to shut up? I wasn't saying anything."

"Look here," he takes a step forward so that his boots hit the curb, steel toe clashing right next to her legs. She doesn't flinch. "Do you have a problem with me?"

"Not really. I was staring at you, though. Congratulations for noticing. No prize for not noticing them, though." She peers around him and nods. "I was waiting to see how long it took for them to punt you into the asphalt."

A pair of hands come down on his shoulders and spin him around, enough to twist his ankle in a way it shouldn't ever face. He's eye to eye with a few gangers-- actual gangers-- who aren't taking very kindly to his park job blocking in their bikes.

Oval pulls her feet up on the curb and holds her PDA out sideways, hitting record.

"Thanks for bringing the fight over here though." She smirks. "Better filming angle."

this past year I’ve been getting extremely nostalgic and put together a calm/pretty/acoustic playlist of songs that circulated a lot on there from 2009-2012 

Is this the Boneknapper draggo

Nope, it’s this really cool anatomical crocodile!

46. — saccharine

The air is practically saturated on the strip. An overwhelming haze of alcohol, gambling, drugs, and sex. The tinny sound of an oldworld orchestra blares out over the speaker systems, competing with the shouts of patrons and the buzz of flashing signs and neon.

People would, and have, traded anything to get into Vegas proper-- caps, blood, themselves, other people. Practically every hand here is dripping in some kind of guilt, covered up and masked by the saccharine promises of a night to remember (or a night to forget).

Pick your poison-- any casino will cater to your needs, if they fit just right. Do you want to pretend you're part of the high life? Feel like the desert and dust and war outside is just a distant memory? Do you want to let your anger of the brewing war just past the gates envelop you? Pick a fight with any one of the off-duty soldiers wandering the street? What about stewing in enough whiskey and debauchery to completely forget the past month itself? If you want it, Vegas has it.

Clay sits on the steps of the Lucky 38 and watches the people go by-- laughing, crying, stumbling, worrying. One hand ruffles the fur of the dog next to him, while the other fiddles with the bullet on the chain around his neck. It feels weightier, now that it's dug out of his skull, and now that he has some memories to ascribe to himself.

People pay so much money to come here and forget. He got it for free, plus a new scar on his forehead to show for it.

The shadow of the locked casino behind him looms, competing against the colors and pizazz of the street around him. Soldiers walk by. Mercenaries. Average citizens. Farmers, traders. He watches them all go by, wandering from place to place.

He watches the Legion soldier who just brought him an invitation go, slipping past the robotic guards and out the gates, not a single man any wiser about his identity.

He leans back and tries to make out the stars in against the light pollution and wonders what his life was like before two bullets took his mind and gave him this responsibility instead. Dean Martin croons through the sound system of the buildings down the street.

Ain't that a kick in the head.

HI ILY okay uhhh

I've decided Hide gets in a fist fight with Dietrich because Hide has been an "ends justify the means" man his entire life, and he makes a decision that would endanger a lot of innocents. Dietrich tries to talk him off of it and Hide, under a lot of stress and pressure already, takes it poorly and it just devolves from there. (Dietrich beats him pretty solidly and Hide walks around with some wounded pride for about a week. Dietrich still listens to his orders as team leader but it feels Weird for Hide).

Also I'm figuring out the specifics of some of Hide's key story beats (including when he got Blood Maged:tm: and how he interacts with the neighborhood <3)

#7: a character that i’d marry unironically

OH MAN pavel chekov from reboot star trek. I would say Deacon from Fallout 4 but I feel like he might not ever be ready to go back to that depending on how things go for him sdkjfhskjdfh but he would also be on that short list

#15: a character i’d throw hands with

The chief from resident evil 2, I hate that guy so much, me and Claire gonna throw him to the G-Adults in the sewers skdjfhskjdhfsdf