reymonkey | Here it be!

Murderous!Fisher, please! And maybe a Dorky!Chaz. Ooh, can I get an Incarcerated! Dirk, too?

Edited 2010-01-31 17:10 (UTC)

Courtney was the first one to notice the smell. Aloysius, who lived mostly in the upper floors, just shrugged when her parents brought it up. "We live next to the woods. Animals are bound to wander over once in a while, and even most of the house goblins don't want to tangle with a skunk."
He said it might wander off on it's own by night, but the next morning the smell was still there. It came up through the vents, but when Courtney scoured the basement (carefully) she couldn't find it. After her fruitless search she went upstairs to ask Fisher what he thought. She found him asleep on her pillow. He stank.
"Oh... my god... Fish what have you been up to?!?"
He opened his one good eye, and grunted. "Bastard's on my turf."
She felt a little bad for giving him a bath in tomato juice, and he refused to speak to her afterward, just skulked away looking faintly lavender.
The next morning the smell still permeated the basement and kitchen, and Fisher tried to sleep on her laptop, and left it reeking. When she gave him another bath he bit her, not hard enough to draw blood, but still. "I'm gonna kill 'im! 'S for all of you, ya know! I ain't doing this for my health!"
He sulked the rest of the day, and slept.
The next morning as soon as Courtney stepped out of her bedroom she could hear the fight. She raced downstairs barefoot to see a tangle of fur whirling through the kitchen. They bashed into a table leg, and the skunk sprayed everywhere, thrashing with Fisher's teeth in its neck. She backed up while her parents came thundering down to the noise and smell. By the time they all got a good look at the scene, the thing was giving a last spasmic kick. Fisher sat back, scratched, bleeding and dripping. "Got 'im!"

in retrospect she probably shouldn't have pushed the button.
It was huge and full of a wider variety of people than Greenwich village on a busy night. Chaz couldn't resist exploring. She gravitated to a group of people who looked close to her age, and listened to them talk about music for a few minutes before she tried to join in. "That sounds pretty radical, but I like the Clash and the Dead Kennedys." They turned to look at her, with her high-top sneakers with bright yellow laces, her skinny jeans, puffy-paint graffiti T-shirt, and her jeans jacket. she pulled out a Walkman covered in stickers, and headphones big enough to double as earmuffs.
"Uhh... what's that?"

((Chaz is dorky just by being 80's...))

They had taken his red hat, and, perhaps more inhumane still they had taken his cigarettes. Svlad Cjelli sat on the edge of his cot and stared at the far well, mouth twisting continuously in a low mutter. He'd spent a while being in shock, then frittered away some time with denial, and eventually descended into the depths of rage at the unfairness of the universe until it left him feeling drained and shaky.
That had eaten up a couple of hours, at least.
Now he was going over names, trying to come up with a new moniker to use as soon as he got out. It was already abundantly clear to him that no matter how innocent he truly was, no amount of investigation was likely to make it look that way. He was in for the long haul. The best he could do was behave himself. keep his head down, and wait. He'd never been good at keeping his head down, even if he was on the short side. Or more accurately he kept his head relatively low but the enormous red hat he perpetually wore tended to make it stand out anyway. He'd practically made a career out of being noticed precisely by pretending to act like he was trying not to be, but he wasn't quite sure how you were supposed to go about it for real.
It would have been easier without that snarky detective coming around to harass him periodically. The man's name was Gilks, and he looked, to Dirk, like a lamp post with a bottle brush taped onto the light. His comments aggravated Svlad precisely because they were the clever, sarcastic kind of retorts that he always wished he could come up with himself. He was also, strangely, the first person outside his own family he'd ever met who could actually pronounce 'Cjelli' properly. That infuriated him even more, that name coming accurately from that mouth. Under that mustache. What kind of a name was Cjelli anyway? Time to pick a new one and start over. His family didn't seem to want to have much to do with him now anyway. Not since his mother had visited the school at police request and found herself surrounded by student mutterings of 'psychosassic vampire'.
His private rantings were gradually interrupted by the awareness of a funny sound. From somewhere nearby there was a low, steady, monotone murmur. It seemed to be reading off stock market prices. Svlad stirred, and looked around for whoever or whatever was producing the noise, only to realize it was coming from him. He broke off with a groan and rolled over onto the cot, facing the wall.
The prison guard, just out of view at the edge of the bars, sighed and put away his pen. Oh well, if it turned out the rumors about the prisoner were false, nothing lost, and if they were actually true, there was a long sentence ahead of the boy and a fat profit to be made.

Edited 2010-02-01 16:06 (UTC)

This is amazing. I love it.

I thought it actually came out pretty good. Maybe I should slap it up on DA for the lulz.

Working Chaz, because I'm curious.

To get here she had sold real drugs, a few times, although never without the Chief's knowledge. She was a criminal, and she was here among criminals, but she was also here to scope out the place. Later tonight she'd be making a full report, drawing maps, giving every details about the drug dealers and how they safeguarded the warehouse they were dealing from. Her information would hopefully be enough for other agents the Chief himself to make a full out raid and send the crooks scampering into the arms of the police.
She just had to get through this meeting and get out alive again, first.
One thug nudged the other, eyeing her. "Check it out, that one's a chick!"
"Hunh. Too scrawny."
Chaz stuck out her jaw a little further, and pretended not to hear them. Instead she focused on memorizing every detail of the faces of the men supervising the little bags of powder being passed out. She stood in line with the boys, paid for her share with money she knew was marked, and made a little tough talk with the other dealers before skulking away. It wasn't until after she made her full report that she went home, took a hot shower, and stood in it until she stopped shaking.

Poor thing... it's not an easy job, at any age.

This might be earlier on though, she probably takes it all a little more in stride now. I think her biggest fear though is that her aunt or brother will turn her in as a dealer.

Sexy!Markus (Rat). Because I think it would be amusing.

Valentine's Day last year wasn't half bad, since he and Harley had just become an official item, but this year is different. There are flowers and chocolate, again, for Harley and April both. In the evening he's careful to slip off to the bedroom first, after goodnight hugs for April. Harley gets to put her to bed tonight, even though normally he'd be glad to do the job.
By the time Harley comes to the bedroom, the lights are out, but there are candles on the nightstand. All he's wearing is the blanket, strategically draped, and a box wrapped in red paper.
"I got you something else, too..." He grins and offers it out. "Maybe you'd like to make sure it fits?" Whatever it is, it can't be very big, judging by the size of the box.

Harley thinks he is. And would be proven right by that. *heated hand wave*

XD Actually there's something just a little goofy and gawky about him that makes it hard for me to ever see him as sexy, or maybe that's partly because I'm playing him...

LOL

And I am curious to what would have been in the box. :)

Lingerie, that's all I know. It doesn't take a very big box for that.

Oh, and you might want to check out my re to Sarahmun down there, since Harley's in it bigtime...

AWWWWW Poor Markus. Harley would have felt so bad for making him feel that way. Since she does LOVE him now.

He's very happy with her, but how can he compete with that? He's in his late forties and balding, so he's a little self conscious sometimes.

Plus, that man could slice people open with his cheekbones. Spike's actor scares me. Are those for real? Really? Not like, latex appliance cheekbones or something for the role? Yikes. *Has only seen intermittent episodes of Buffy*

Once again Markus thinks it is all in the looks. Tsk tsk.

So... totally have to do sceneage with you again sometime soon.

Yeeeah, I've been pretty much absent from RP, for a long while, and I'm sorry. Stuff happened with Harley and I just totally was not there, and I'm sorry. Life's been... ugh.

Awww Hug

Yah, stuff has happened. But it will wait until you are up for stuff.

Trying to get back into RPing a little, I just haven't come up with anything to do with Rat yet. I've poked at Dirk a little, made a post before Xmas that got almost no replies, and re'd to an LOL with another char... Probably I should shove Rat into the Nexus, just a little. He's never going to like it there.

That would be interesting if you did. Just to see his reaction.

He's been to the Nexus clinics once, but that was just after Willie died. Basically he prefers to know about the Nexus secondhand. We've talked about doing a joint post with him and Gibbs though. Maybe J!Thorn should come along too, three guys scared of the Nexus do better than any of them alone, right?

How about Jealous!Rat, since he rarely is, and over-protective!Dirk

When he head about 'Caitlyn' and 'Sam', he took it with a good-natured smile. None of them had been themselves, then. When Harley mentioned the Joker, or Spike, he was sympathetic and held her close. On the beach in summer, or in a bar out for a night on the town, he didn't worry, because Harley didn't seem to give anyone else a second glance.
Then one day she coaxed him into the nexus, where they wandered and chatted with people for a while, until beside him Harley gave a little gasp. He followed her line of sight to a blonde man with the most incredible cheekbones Rat had ever seen. Harley bit her lip, and looked back at him, and apologized. She had to check. He didn't know her at all, just another alternate, but Markus watched them talk.
He was blonde, and youthful, and clean, with a full head of hair and cover model features. Spike would never age, never see a wrinkle in the mirror or lose his hair, and his physique was perfectly and naturally toned. Even when she came back to his side, held his hand, and kissed him, Markus felt a little worm gnawing at his heart.

The man at the dry cleaner's had looked at the hat, then at Dirk, then at the hat again. He had suggested that Dirk buy a new hat. When that was met with flat disapproval, the man had kindly, gently, explained that any process they might us that had a fair chance of truly removing the offending matter would also stand a fair chance of removing portions of the hat. Mere felt could only withstand so much.
Now he sat at home, at the kitchen table, with a dishrag, warm water, and the gentlest detergent he had been able to find. As he cleaned-carefully, gently, painstakingly, Dirk crooned to his hat. "Poor thing, don't you worry, I'll get them back, you'll see. If I have to hire a bloody helicopter to dump feces on every popular statue in the park, I'll get them back. Mean old pigeons."

Dirk + his hat = OTP!

I was going 'Who would Dirk be overprotective of?' because he's just not that close to anyone, and then Bridgie flippantly said 'his hat' and it went from there...

How about a Working!Rat, since I'm curious about his day as a taxi-driver, and an Angry!Dirk.

Living at Harley's gave life a routine. In the morning Rat could hop in the cab and generally find a resident who needed to go into the city for one errand or another, and once he dropped them off he usually refueled the car. Gas was always more expensive on the beach, especially in summer when the tourists were there. After that there was a diner he usually dropped in. Harley refused to let him out the door without breakfast, but he never minded a second cup of coffee, and his primary motivation was networking. The cabbies dominated one end of the counter, this time of day, and he could trade news. They looked out for each other, shared information on where gas was the cheapest, what events in town would call for extra work, and Rat himself was known for always being in the know to whatever road work might be going on. It seemed uncanny, how up to date he was on that.
The rest of the day was spent carrying fares, cruising the shopping district or on a nice day around the park. There were good fares to be made later in the evening, but he usually missed them now, unwilling to trade money for evenings home with Harley and sometimes April too. If there was something big in town, he sometimes made the trek home and then back out later, but evenings in seemed more appealing all the time.

Some days, though, he never showed up in the diner. Once or twice a month he dropped out of sight of the cabbies. Clean-shaven, dressed in his good suit, Mr. Rathbone debated developments and weighed the needs and available funding for the new school. Schools. As soon as the grade school was completed, or maybe sooner, they'd need to start work on a middle school. The city was growing, and he was helping its youth grow up. It was exciting to be in on the meetings, to walk the construction site with people saying his name respectfully and asking his advice on the plans, but he sometimes wondered what his buddies back in the diner would think if they saw him now.

Dirk hated doing the lady fortune-teller gig in the backs of pubs. Usually it was a last resource to make some quick money after somebody with a baseball bat came around to remind him of money he'd borrowed. He did them dressed as a woman just to preserve his dignity. As long as he'd shaved that morning, behind the thick glasses and with his head well wrapped in a scarf, he could pass for a really ugly, overweight, older woman. The advantage to passing for an ugly woman was that no one ever tried to look close enough to realize he was actually a man, and he'd only ever been recognized for himself once.*
He didn't enjoy cross-dressing, at all, but it paled in comparison to the worst part. The worst part was that no matter how blunderingly, blatantly wrong he tried to be, his predictions were almost always in some horrible twisted way right.
Dirk knew this, because often people came back. Sometimes they were pleased, and more often they were not, and they usually let Dirk know just how painfully accurate he'd been at a volume that attracted attention. Sometimes it involved throwing a chair or two. Dirk could hold his own if he had to, but he preferred to avoid bar room fights. Rather than fight back in these situations, he invariably fled. Generally speaking, he couldn't blame whoever came after him for it, because he would have done the same if he were in their shoes.
It left him angry, though, in his own way. It all would have been so much easier if he could have just been wrong, even fifty percent of the time. The nights when it really got to him, those were the nights when he hauled himself up to the roof of his house, to rant at the universe at large. Sometimes the universe had a perverse sense of humor, and Dirk wanted to personally throttle it and lean on its windpipe until it turned bluer than the unanswering sky above him.

*Since it had been someone he owed money too, but he'd just made some accurate predictions involving the man's extra-marital affair, the moment of recognition had been a very awkward one. They decided to call it even and part ways quickly.

Mmm, I'm torn, I'll pick two though.

Flailing!Owen
Jealous!Chaz

Helen Menz wasn't like any other agent. Chaz had worked for The Shadow long enough to pick up on how he interacted with his agents, and the way he acted with her was not the same. Sure, he called her by her last name, and some of the friendliness was just an act for in public, but there was something else about the way he talked to her, something underneath the instructions.
He talked to her almost like she was an equal.
She knew it was irrational, the other woman was probably a decade older, and it was pretty clear that even though she was new on the scene here, she was somebody who'd worked with him before. Chaz spent a lot of time observing, looking for details and hints. She read Sherlock Holmes under the covers (and hid them from anyone her own age who came over). If she didn't know better, she'd say The Shadow liked Helen Menz.
In her daydreams, she worked her way up to being a valuable agent, held her own in shoot-outs and dealt with thugs twice her size bare-handed. In her dreams The Shadow looked on her with approval, and let her work by his side. In her dreams, Chaz Walters took the place of Helen Menz.

Lol, this reminds me, now that Ichi and Chaz have had their fun, we should get Chaz and Myra together again sometime.

Heh, Chaz is so cute, she wants to grow up to be so awesome, and Myra will never hold that against Chaz. Ichi might think she's nuts, but Myra understands, even if she can't really say anything.

They should. She finds Myra interesting, she just doesn't quite trust her because she can tell she's hiding something.

Aww, Ichi is her new best buddy though! She might start to get the impression he's a chauvinist, but then she'll just try to set him straight...

Myra thinks highly of Chaz, and kind of hopes she gets to be the new 'right hand' kind of agent. If they get to know each other a little more, Myra might be willing to help Chaz with that. ;)

Aw, yeah he is a chauvinist, he can't really help it. Chaz might have her work cut out for her.

Someday she might, dunno what the big guy has planned, if anything. For now I'm fine with having her be a teenager making mistakes now and then.

She's teaching him about modern culture! That includes feminism, right?

Daily life in the Eyrie building always ran on a tight schedule. It was true this was a schedule that was designed around the movements of the gargoyles, secret plans, and other matters of subterfuge, but it was a schedule and Owen was made for schedules. When Alexander was born, all of that went out the window. The gargoyles returning to live in the castle only complicated things, in his opinion, and suddenly he found himself bumping elbows with Broadway and trying to manage business transactions by phone while spooning glop into a squirming baby.
He loved Alexander, was devoted to him, possibly even more than the boy's own parents. The cool exterior that fooled everyone else was so much smoke to the child. He knew it was his uncle Puck, no matter what face he wore. There were moments though, when it was almost too much.
Owen shook the saucepan to keep the milk from scalding, poured the contents very carefully in the glass bottle, and pinned it against his body with the stone fist wrapped in a towel so he could screw the lid on. Things would have been a lot easier with two hands.
In the breast pocket of his suit, his cell phone rang. In the dining room, Alexander screamed for the fifth time. He'd been counting. Mr. Xanatos' voice followed. "Owen? He's just not happy with me! Can you...?" He didn't even bother to finish the sentence.
"Coming sir." Owen juggled the cellphone out of his pocket, turned to the door as he answered it, and then realized he'd left the burner on. Over the phone an angry voice speaking half in Japanese insisted that the asking price for the recent technology exchange was ridiculous. Starting to quietly apologize, he reached to nudge the dial on the stove with his elbow.
There was a crash of breaking glass.

Owen stared at the shattered milk bottle on the floor while master and son called from the next room, and an angry businessman ranted in the other. Calmly, quietly, he flipped the phone shut, cutting off the call. He set it on the counter.
From the dining room, Xanatos heard a second suspicious noise, and carried Alex into the kitchen to investigate. They found Owen neatly sweeping the shards of a cellphone onto the floor with his good hand. There were still a few pieces clinging to the stone of his left fist.
"Ah... everything okay in here, Owen? I heard a... well." It wasn't that he couldn't surmise what had happened, it was just that he couldn't quite believe it.
"Just cleaning up, sir. I'm afraid I'll have to make up a second bottle." The majordomo calmly adjusted his glasses, and looked at Xanatos with flat blue eyes.
"That's... okay Owen, I'll take care of it. Why don't you take the rest of the night off?"
"As you wish, sir." He nodded, face an inscrutable blank, and walked calmly out of the kitchen leaving even the wreckage for Xanatos to deal with.

I love Owen! I used to watch Gargoyles after Batman:TAS went off the air. Same voice actors, same awesome animation quality, great story, I loved it. Owen creeped me out with his alternate identity, he was so cool.

Heh, the poor 'man' is so used and abused by Xanthos. I'll bet that night off was years in the making. =D

I had no idea you were into Gargoyles! It's like the second home for Trek actors though... Owen is my absolute favorite, I like him better as Owen then as Puck. Even though Brent Spiner is a genius. Oops is my geek showing?

I used to write fanfic, although there's not much of it I'd show now, but I was always looking for that moment where Owen snaps... I think I had one where he smashed a keyboard. That stone fist is just a built-in weapon begging to be used against technology...

I wouldn't call myself a die-hard fan of Gargoyles, but I was pretty into it for a while. It didn't help that I was a big Star Trek:TNG fan at the time either. Brent Spiner is honestly my favorite actor from that series, so yeah, I shamelessly join you in your geeking. XD

Lol, my favorite gargoyle - Lexington. I'm a sucker for the nerdy types, what can I say?

I grew up around Star Trek...

Of the actual gargoyles, Lex is my favorite, but Owen comes first overall.

Here it be!

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Heeey, are you saying he's not normally sexy?

Re: Heeey, are you saying he's not normally sexy?

Re: Heeey, are you saying he's not normally sexy?

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Re: Heeey, are you saying he's not normally sexy?

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I can see up his nooooose!

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Sorry, I left all the Dirk ones for last...

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Re: Sorry, I left all the Dirk ones for last...

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Two worlds, man.

You should recognize the references...

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Yeah, I can see that...

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Congratulations on being the only one to pick Owen!

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