you finally calm my head at night

[slushfund]

CHARACTERS: youichi hiruma and whoever wants to drop in
DATE: scattered throughout the middle of january, 5th to 15th
WARNINGS: potential murder talk and this boy's foul mouth
SUMMARY: catch-all for open and closed prompts this month

(want to hang out with this dickhead, but a prompt doesn't suit your fancy pants? hit me up with a pm or at frooting, i love everything. all cr welcome, but dear god he needs friends... and like ten shots of tequila...)

Comments

open

[slushfund]

(they've been back in oska for some time now. a week, more, how many days escapes him when he was so good at keeping updates of the gregorian calendar for reference, but — space travel can mould days into the head of a needle you can't quite fucking thread. and hiruma's thrown himself into a physical way to cope.

with what? he tries not to think about it, letting each kickback of his assault rifle meet an accommodating grip before turning and marching militantly on the next target.)

UPLOADING PERSONNEL PROFILE... UPDATING REGISTERED STATISTICS... GENERATING SCORE...

ROUND 2

TARGET ACCURACY: 9/10
TARGET PRECISION: 8/10
TARGETS ELIMINATED: 11/15

PROCEED? STATE "YES" OR "NO" IN PROGRAMMED LANGUAGE...

(tugging up the hem of his shirt, he paws the sweat away from his face and breathes a sharp reply.)

No. Run it again.

SUGGESTING COOLDOWN... BIOMETRICS INCOMPATIBLE WITH REPLAY...

Run it again!

SUGGESTING COOLDOWN... BIOMETRICS INCOMPATIBLE WITH REPLAY... SUGGESTING COOLDOWN... BIOMETRICS INCOMPATIBLE WITH REPLAY... SUGGESTING—

(a slam of a booted heel into the small terminal leaves him with a shuddering hologram of the target range requested and a handful of fingers hurriedly combing back spikes of styleless blond. then the image scatters, the dome of the training room sobering him, shoulders sinking out of their irritable hitch as eyes find the too-empty room. after, the exit sign. it gives him a stupid idea, but there's no harm in a little "ask and you shall receive", making him jerk towards the door, shoving it open...

and accosting the first person that walks down the hall, breathless and pointing back to the training deck.)

Yo, I need you to do something for me. C'mere for a sec, would ya?

closed to hiruma; cw: implied self harm

[moneyballer]

[Sleep is for the weak, supposedly, but sometimes the weak can't sleep either.

Asher is in the training area in the dead of night for the fourth time in five days, even though he's agreed to be up at dawn, which happens to be in a few hours. He is exhausted and yet unable to rest, forced to use his free time productively, because keeping busy is easier than thinking alone, or thinking aloud.

He pauses to wrap his knuckles the way he's learned to do after many months of wanting to get stronger, the process mechanical, something he's actually managed to memorize. Today, however, he winces from a sharp, stinging pain and finds that the tape has come into contact with knuckles that are black and blue.

Ah, that must have been from yesterday.]

here we go ... starting with a late night kitchen raid r u ready

[assent]

[ It's actually the middle of the night when she sneaks into the kitchens, Cham-P and San-D on her shoulders as she peeks around the door in her PJs. Her hair is pulled up into a bun, but as she's been training during the day as well, she's burned off more than she's eaten which is why the late night hunger strikes. Since the magitek was updated too, she's been eager to see what kind of surprises lie in wait on this new app called "tekflex".

Hence the idea of grabbing snacks for some late night watching came to mind. Plus, she needs seeds for the hamsters. Ah.

San-D dives to the side to hit the light switch, and Sonia tenses up expecting someone to be there to tell her off -- instead a roast pig seems to be sitting on one counter with two bbq sticks, and on another counter is bread. ]

I wonder who left these here?

[ Seeing the coast is clear though, she steps towards the fridge and takes a look inside. The bread looks tempting, but it isn't what she had in mind. ]

wildcards you in your own log

[competing]

[ they all have their own ways of handling things.

lance, for the most part, had been blissfully distracted up until the week after the big party, when it became clearer and clearer that this break in between missions is truly just that — a break. he hadn't been here for the mission previous, but after arriving in the middle of that timeline bug incident, he'd sort of expected one hot mess after another.

turns out he can't even rely on that.

distractions were imminent. days spent puttering around the kitchens, trying to recreate many of his mother and hunk's recipes (to varying degrees of success). others he'd spent in the hot springs, attempting to indulge in a luxury his guilty mind never let him truly enjoy. then some days he spent here, in the training center, away from the watchful eyes of his fellow paladins, and even his mentors. he wasn't really looking for instruction or advice, though maybe he should have given he hadn't really had much of a chance to practice even in perdition's rest...

as it is, all he was really interested in was the doing. in picking that pistol up, in taking aim on a target twenty, thirty feet away. feeling the kickback of the gun on his shoulder, a distant echo from the one he feels with his rifle. he hasn't summoned his bayard since perdition's rest. a part of him doesn't even feel like he can. ]