Saber (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iuramentum) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
overjoyed_logs2017-02-05 10:16 pm
iuramentum) wrote in overjoyed_logs2017-02-05 10:16 pm
Years and years of CR garbage
Who: Saber (iuramentum ) and an assortment of other lovelies.
Where: Mostly on Leith, but probably goddamn everywhere. Lbr.
When: THE MISTS OF TIME ~*~ (5 years-Present day)
Summary: General "here's why I know you, and you're still a goddamn idiot" CR bullshitting. Ayyyy. (CR Plotting post can be found here for perusal.)
Restrictions/Warnings: Probably a lot of cussing because some nerds don't use their inside voice.
OPTION A:
Guess what time it is?
SHITTY WARRANT TIME. This may range from simple but mind-numbingly boring tasks such as sorting paperwork according to date or alphabetically by the proxy-client's last name, recovering a precious family heirloom from the dump like three planets away that somehow miraculously got thrown out in the trash, so on and so forth. At least it's not a dangerous job...
OPTION B:
...unlike this prompt, which is gonna be all about that dangerous warrant goodness. Hell yeah.
Which means weapons: out, guns: blazing, shit: about to be rocked. People are probably/maybe/absolutely going to get seriously hurt in the crossfire, so hopefully one of you brought off-brand Hello (space) Kitty band-aids to put on any really nasty gunshot wounds or whatever.
OPTION C:
Somewhere, somehow, with some twist of fate, getting shitfaced drunk is now on the schedule. This is the obligatory 'socialize in a bar' prompt.
Maybe it was an accident (likely), you dragged her here (also likely), or she figured it wouldn't hurt to have a drink off-duty just to half-heartedly pretend she isn't a total stick in the mud (maybe once in a blue moon). Either way, here you are, in what may or may not be a real craphole of a bar.
...unless it's your bar. Then it might be a little less 'covered in grime' and more 'charmingly rustic'????
OPTION D:
You know what a good way to unwind from work is?
Beating up your RAC friends! With friendship punches!
Sparring is a time-honored tradition to strengthen bonds between co-workers, so here's Saber, all kitted up in safety equipment a size or two too big for her but still resolutely determined to try piledriving an unlucky someone (you,lbr here) face-first into the ground. Warm-up wrasslin first, then weapons can come out afterwards.
WILDCARD!
You do you, cupcake!
iuramentum ) and an assortment of other lovelies.Where: Mostly on Leith, but probably goddamn everywhere. Lbr.
When: THE MISTS OF TIME ~*~ (5 years-Present day)
Summary: General "here's why I know you, and you're still a goddamn idiot" CR bullshitting. Ayyyy. (CR Plotting post can be found here for perusal.)
Restrictions/Warnings: Probably a lot of cussing because some nerds don't use their inside voice.
OPTION A:
Guess what time it is?
SHITTY WARRANT TIME. This may range from simple but mind-numbingly boring tasks such as sorting paperwork according to date or alphabetically by the proxy-client's last name, recovering a precious family heirloom from the dump like three planets away that somehow miraculously got thrown out in the trash, so on and so forth. At least it's not a dangerous job...
OPTION B:
...unlike this prompt, which is gonna be all about that dangerous warrant goodness. Hell yeah.
Which means weapons: out, guns: blazing, shit: about to be rocked. People are probably/maybe/absolutely going to get seriously hurt in the crossfire, so hopefully one of you brought off-brand Hello (space) Kitty band-aids to put on any really nasty gunshot wounds or whatever.
OPTION C:
Somewhere, somehow, with some twist of fate, getting shitfaced drunk is now on the schedule. This is the obligatory 'socialize in a bar' prompt.
Maybe it was an accident (likely), you dragged her here (also likely), or she figured it wouldn't hurt to have a drink off-duty just to half-heartedly pretend she isn't a total stick in the mud (maybe once in a blue moon). Either way, here you are, in what may or may not be a real craphole of a bar.
...unless it's your bar. Then it might be a little less 'covered in grime' and more 'charmingly rustic'????
OPTION D:
You know what a good way to unwind from work is?
Beating up your RAC friends! With friendship punches!
Sparring is a time-honored tradition to strengthen bonds between co-workers, so here's Saber, all kitted up in safety equipment a size or two too big for her but still resolutely determined to try piledriving an unlucky someone (you,lbr here) face-first into the ground. Warm-up wrasslin first, then weapons can come out afterwards.
WILDCARD!
You do you, cupcake!
no subject
Sensing her balance is compromised, she pivots sharply on her heel, clearly aiming to drive the apex of her shoulder into his chest as retaliation. Hard. ]
Fine. Drop the weapon and I'll give you ten minutes to finish up.
no subject
but then again the broken fingers.........
but he shrieks and flops back. How's he still on his damn feet]
Fuck you're a muscled broad aintcha. I'm not dropping it. Why dontcha drop your ass?
no subject
Well... mostly if you don't take into account she's very clearly making the choice not to bring her sword into play, which effectively means Saber has to fight with just one hand. All in all things could be worse on both ends. ]
You have two choices. Either I take the gun from you by force, or you relinquish it. [ BADOU... PLS SEE SENSE... ] I have no quarrel with you outside the condition that you cease damaging property immediately.
[ Meaning: quit wrecking shit, and she really doesn't give a single flying fig what he does otherwise. Beat up a billion thugs with nothing but a crowbar, if you like, but not a single brick better be out of place by the time you're done. ]
no subject
[he wriggles and struggles-- trying to break away from her.]
Why don't we both go our separate ways on three. I'm not gonna shoot you, yeah? So you've got nothing to worry about, I acknowledge your strength and hard boiled badassary, kay?
no subject
[ Damn it. Situations like this can never be easy, can they? Sure, bringing home some crazy jerkoff's crappy gun isn't explicitly requested in the warrant, but...
Saber pins Badou with a long, hard stare, mentally weighing her options, prior to just barely easing up the grip she has his gun (and by proxy, his slightly squashed fingers). Her shoulders are still tense, though, not quite ready to fully trust that compromise he's suggesting.
On three. And god help him if he's fibbing. ]
Remember the terms. No property damage.
no subject
Groaning, he confirms:]
Yeah, yeah no property damage if you don't damage my goods! One....two....?
no subject
A terse nod, and she steps backwards out of his space, idly flexing her fingers to loosen them up after being locked in place for so long. No funny moves, my guy, you'd best believe she's still keyed up hella high. ]
Get moving.
no subject
also here's that expectant bitching about his finger]
Remind me to never make fingerbanging jokes at you Jesus... You get moving too. This ain't gonna stop hunky dory.
no subject
[ Saber doesn't budge. To guess from the set of her shoulders, she plans to stay put in the immediate area for the next hour or two just to cover her bases in case Badou gets a hankering for cigarette-withdrawal-related chaos.
points at eyes points at him I'M WATCHIN U, NERD]no subject
I guess we will see. We'll see indeed.
[he's slow as he marches off
and will also be around for the next hour
at least until he finds a body with cigarettes he can steal]