|
|
| (12 intermediate revisions by one user not shown) |
| Line 1: |
Line 1: |
| | {| | | {| |
| | |align=left| | | |align=left| |
| − | Whatever the fuck Damian's issues are, as Barbara well knows all these doors and windows of possibility and opportunity as people like to poetically talk about are all scary and lead to crazy places. So, like any good rebel without a clue, he decides fuck the doors and windows, I'll go through the wall! But Ludwig isn't cooperating with his wall bashing. Bastard. A huff, and Damian decides to take matters into his own hands. No, literally! He grabs Ludwig by the shoulder and *shoves* to turn the big fucker around during his awesome and energetic dancing. No chance to yell 'what the fuck bra, yer kinkin' mah groove' or whatever the hell it is those sandy beach bums say, because Damian just grabs him a second time with a hand on either side of Ludwig's face, and plants a solid lip to lip kiss on the guy. No hey what's up, no I noticed you from across the bar, not even the common god damn courtesy of a roofy-colada! It should be noted, for Ludwig's sake, that there is no tongue. Those things can get bit off, thanks.<br><br>
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Just to set the trainwreck for Gareth, Ludwig is dancing like a wild man in a circle of solitude, holding on to an ubiquitous leather jacket. He's so hot right now, literally and figuratively, with a scowl of ennui firmly plastered on those full, luscious lips... there's a 'brown chicken brown cow' twang to the bass line of the subwoofer, or so it might seem as Damian does the unthinkable and plants a kiss on the big surfer dude. It all happens so fast, but Ludwig is quick like cat. His fist is balled up before he can even inhale Damian's breath and it travels through the air towards Damian's head like the countdown ball falling down during one of those Dick Clark NYE specials.<br><br>
| |
| − |
| |
| − | What. What! WHAT! Barbara almost falls off the couch in surprise as she scrambles to get up at about the same time as she flails in horror. That was not expected! She leaps to her feet, stumbling a little on the high heels and dives forward, scrabbling at the floor and grasping out with her hands to try and grab Ludwig's arm or even leap on his back, something to stop him from beating the tar out of Damian.<br><br>
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Bare milliseconds pass, a wet meeting of lips that may have made such beautiful slash if only Liane was here, but since she's not it's just horror on the dance floor. Damian could not *possibly* have been expecting any other reaction, it's kinda like walking into the Roadhouse and grabbing some biker's ass while you're sporting your shiny new pocket protector. He doesn't even have time to properly tense himself up to accept the blow, his cheeks are even still 90 percent squishy when the knuckles meet the nose. It's like the last seconds of a bad ass UFC fight, all that homoerotic buildup and then BAM! Hippie falls *down*, going backwards in a boneless, splayed out heap. Consciousness? Not quite gone, but there's stars, and birds, and banjos, and possibly some little horsies running rampant circles in front of his otherwise sightless vision. Needless to say, their area by the couch has cleared by a few people and there's oh so many onlookers. Was it a lover's quarrel? Was the dude with the dreads just a dick? Is the blonde guy single and in desperate need to prove his masculinity in some club chick's apartment?! So many questions! But, Damian was asking for it, that much is certain, and one punch basically did the trick.<br><br>
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Gareth has made his way on to the sparse dance floor, cocking an awkward ear at the BADUMPADUMP music. There's a moment where he's utterly oblivious, but turns around just to see KISS KISS BANG BANG. His mouth drops in shock, his eyes widen, and he moves quickly over to the battle. There, in the flashing lights and darkness, he...vaguely recognizes Ludwig, and definitely recognizes Damian. "Oh my GOD!" he howls angrily. Then adds. "Is EVERYONE getting action in this town but me?"<br><br>
| |
| − |
| |
| − | The club is as clubs do, louder than shit music, people flailing around in something vaguely resembling 'dancing', a DJ doin' his thang and some fine over priced drinks going down like water. The problem with that is drunken bar brawls, which can happen in the finest of establishments, it would seem, not just biker bars. Over near the couch, Damian's dance theory has taken a new turn, he's down on the floor and has just lurched into the fetal position from a hell of a curb stomp from Ludwig. He looked more or less okay when he was laying on his back, but now that he's moved and turned, a nice gush of blood suddenly pours out of his extremely broken nose and onto the floor in a little puddle, a bit aspirated out onto his pant leg. "Oh beans." he mutters to a floor tile, yeah that's right, oh beans, and begins working himself slowly and painfully back into reality. Wait... Wait! Was that tooth that wiggly before?!<br><br>
| |
| − |
| |
| − |
| |
| − | A LITTLE WHILE LATER AT THE FRONTIER!<br><br>
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Damian DIVES on the onion rings with a sincerely grateful smile for Nathan. Well, best smile he can manage under the circumstances. He makes more than a few ow sounds while filling himself with deliciousness, the hotness and the salt do his wounds and sore jaw no favors at all. Trace gets this massive dumb stare of 'wha?'. Surely he has some idea of why she's in a state, but you wouldn't know it from looking at him. So the explanation is delayed for a second while he watches her stomp away all perplexed like. "I kissed a boy." He explains to Petra as though he were mentioning running out to grab his news paper. "They liked it. Got all the honies in the club excited." he says, as if defending his actions. "I kissed a boy just to start shit." And homeboy was not about it. This, apparently, is what happens when Damian gets bored or something.<br><br>
| |
| − | O.o! O.o! O.o!<br><br>
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Petra explaining: "And Joel is like, social lubricant. He knows *EVERYONE*. I know you're going to protest that he doesn't know YOU. Well let me assure you, he DOES, you just don't know it yet!"<br>
| |
| − | Emitted: Joel's like *some* kinda lubricant, any way. One of those ones you get for what you think is a good price where you go, "Heeeeey, this isn't cherry flavored at ALL!"<br><br>
| |
| − |
| |
| − |
| |
| | |} | | |} |
| | [[Category:Character Subpages]] | | [[Category:Character Subpages]] |