fandomhighdorms | Entries tagged with flick

The past few instances of being in the gym hadn't gone really well for Flick. But, things had changed and he didn't want to leave the island without visiting it one more time. He wasn't going full out today because he didn't feel like he really had to. He was at the heavy bag, throwing a few easy punches while he circled around said bag.

This felt a lot easier today and Flick wasn't sure if that was a change in attitude, training finally taking hold, or a combination of both. He just knew that he didn't feel the need to pulverize the bag with his fists. His knuckles thanked him.

He'd worked up a good sweat but his face wasn't screwed up in anger and pain. It was just a good, strenuous workout.

[Open place and post]

Current Mood: energetic

flickofthewrist

If Flick wanted to be a Shadowhunter, he figured he'd have to really work on changing his fighting style. Being vicious had worked for him all this time but apparently, that wasn't going to work where he was headed. He'd been working with Isabelle over the past few months but he still hadn't really completely let go of what he'd learned.

Today, he'd taken a run around the island and was now in the gym, practicing targeted shots on the heavy bag. The focus was on striking places on the body that could take a person down and not just beating the hell out of them for the sake of it.

It was harder than it sounded. His focus was good but he continued to feel almost clumsy and, in the end, ended up getting frustrated and falling right back on bad habits.

Time to beat the heavy bag.

[Open]

Current Mood: frustrated

spin_kick_snap

Kathy had been getting ~~handwavy~~ lessons in knifework from Eliot for several months now and she was starting to get pretty good at it. They still spent more time sparring with markers than they did with even practice blades, but she had fewer and fewer streaks of ink across her skin and clothing when they finally broke for the day. So--progress?

While Kathy had yet to figure out how to practice actual knifework by herself (save for practicing reversing her grip until her wrists hurt), a lot of her lessons were actually teaching her a martial art--Krav Maga, she thought. Unleashing a flurry of strikes or kicks would do her just as much good in a knife fight as whipping a knife around--and possibly more, considering Kathy wasn't sure she'd actually be able to use a knife on a real person. Not unless she was trying to save someone else, too, probably. So Eliot seemed to mostly be teaching her the most brutally efficient way to take down someone who was holding a knife and only some of those lessons actually involved using a knife of her own.

Which, honestly, Kathy was pretty okay with.

Today her assignment was to practice her kicks and strikes while pulling her knife out and changing her grip on it--without losing the rhythm of her strikes or dropping the knife.

"One-two-three-dammit!" It was harder than it sounded.

flickofthewrist

Well, so much for any kind of training Flick had had previously when it came to fighting. That was all out the window today. It was amazing what anger and moodiness did for one's self control. He didn't want to be precise and efficient. He just wanted to punch.

So, that's what he was doing. Punching. The heavy bag wasn't as good a substitute as going out and finding someone to taunt into a fight was but he wasn't that far gone. He just knew he was angry and he wanted to get it out before he took it out on someone who didn't deserve it.

His poor hands were already red and they probably didn't deserve that but he already felt a little better than he had yesterday and much better than Saturday. But, he figured he'd keep up the routine for awhile longer until he was exhausted, body and mind, and then he'd take a nap or go to New York or something.

[Open place/post]

Current Mood: angry

flickofthewrist

Even when he had classes, Flick still had a lot of time during the week to do just about anything he wanted. With no classes now, he had even more time. He wasn't quite to the point of not knowing what to do with himself but he'd probably get close in due time.

Right now, he was going to fill up a few hours by going down to the gym. He'd been having some rough spots in this particular area for awhile but it still gave him something to do, something to get his body into motion and keep himself in shape. Of course, he immediately wanted to fall back into old habits as soon as he stepped into the gym.

But, he ignored those for now. Instead, he grabbed a jump rope and warmed up with that before tossing it aside and walking over to the heavy bag. He pushed it a few times before settling into a slow and easy rhythm.

Hopefully he'd be able to control that for awhile.

[Open place & post]

myownface

Well, graduation was over with, and most of Sparkle's crap was already packed up, and he had Lewis' word that when he got back to Toronto, they'd be just a couple of days away from moving into the new house that Lewis had been saving up for decades for. The only trouble was? Still a group home. And given the assortment of teens that Lewis tended to pick up, allergies were sort of a thing.

He'd begged. He'd pleaded. Hell, he'd threatened to live in the garage or something. No, Lewis wasn't going to budge.

No cats.

So Sparkle was now in the common room with Velcro, frowning at the little guy while he tried to make the best of his last day here, before... something something. Taking him to the shelter, maybe, or seeing how long he could smuggle his shouldercat around in his bookbag before Lewis took notice, or maybe actually running away somewhere after all and starting life over as a hermit in, like, sunny California or hey, the seventies were kind of okay. He could handle running away to the seventies.

But for the time being, he'd settle for making the best of his last day here before his portal would cart him off, by dangling a shoelace at the end of a broom handle for the cat to chase around the room like a complete lunatic.

"That's right, moron. You're a good stupid boy, aren't you?"

[OOC: Open! Probably Sparkle's last post on the island before alumni-land. There's a new owner in mind for the kitty already, no worries.]

flickofthewrist

Flick hadn't been in the gym much since the last time. There'd been a lot going on that had mentally and physically stressed him so the gym had been a second or third thought. Plus, he had some issues from the last time he'd been in the gym.

But, things seemed to be settling now so he was back. He didn't know why he was here, really, but he figured an early morning round with the heavy bag couldn't hurt. For one of the first times since he'd been on the island, he pulled on a pair of gloves and started a quick pace of jabbing and swinging at the heavy bag. He worked without stopping, building up a good sweat before moving his blows into something a little more powerful, something sharper.

He was falling right back into what he knew despite what had happened last time. Hard to stop muscle memory.

[Open place/post]

Current Mood: awake

flickofthewrist

Once again, Flick had woken up feeling like a ball of energy. By his calculations, the island had been running rampant with this crap for nearly a week so wasn't it supposed to be over? Nevertheless, it wasn't like he could cure so it so he was just in the 'deal with it' phase now.

That meant going to the gym. That meant immediately going to the heavy bag and beating it on it with bare knuckles. When he'd been sick, he hadn't been able to do this so now that he wasn't sick and was feeling motivated and full of energy, he was going to take advantage and try and work out some of the restlessness while he was at it.

A part of him thought maybe he should change up his gym routine but another part of him knew he'd get bored if he tried basketball, knew that he wasn't good with swords and knives, and knew that running would just bore him.

So, beating the heavy it was!

[Open. Just getting a few last posts in before sex pollen expires]

Current Mood: indescribable

flickofthewrist

Earlier, Flick had woken up, taken the medicine he'd been prescribed a few days ago for his ulcer and gone back to sleep. It seemed the easiest way to avoid feeling like he was full of pent up energy. Sadly, he'd had to wake up eventually to go to class.

After that was over and done with, he'd gone back to his room for a few minutes before breezing out and going down to the gym. He'd spent a lot of time here last time the island had done this so it seemed like a damn good idea to repeat that. He stripped down to shorts and a tank top and found his way over to the familiar heavy bag. It was worn and tearing in places but it was good enough for Flick.

He took a few slower swings at it, just getting warmed up before punching in earnest. He needed to get this energy out of him and if he had to punch this thing until he was covered in sweat and his knuckles were aching, he'd do that.

He already felt a little better though he doubted the burning under his skin and the buzzing in his head would completely go away.

[Open]

Current Mood: energetic

kenselvren

Jalian could be doing this in her room, especially as she now had no roommate. She probably should be doing it in her room. But she was trying to be more social and learn more about the people around her, and she couldn't do that in her room.

So, she was sitting on the floor cross-legged, with bits of wire and circuitry and a scattering of small vacuum tubes around her, attempting to put something together.

The television was on in the background - she wasn't watching it, but hadn't bothered to turn it off. It seemed to be two groups of males on ice hitting each other with sticks, which was occasionally amusing.

[Open room and post!]

Current Location: 5th Floor Common Room

seeks_truth

Cassandra had been combing through books on magic and the island itself for days. No solution had presented itself, and it was starting to get on her nerves. So she had decided to pick up her training again so at least she wouldn't be falling behind while she was trapped here.

It was the first time she had realized that her current compliment of clothing - her armor, her linen underclothes and her underwear - were not sufficient if she were to be staying here for longer than a few days. She had left her armor in the room. Out of sheer practicality, upon reaching the gym, she had also stripped off her undershirt. It was not ideal, if simply because it left all but her bust uncovered, but it would have to do.

She strode past the strange machines the use of which she could not divine, and paused only when she reached the dumbbells. Strength training, first. Then she would put her armor back on and go to the salle to practice her swordfighting.

But for now, she would be lifting weights, putting good strain on her muscles. It was the first thing in days that had her feeling she was doing anything productive; it put her in a good mood.

[[ open! ]]

flickofthewrist

It was a brand new year.

That didn't mean much to Flick but whatever. The last night of 2014 had been spent quietly and without much fanfare so he figured maybe he'd try to get the new year off to a decent start. He was up, showered and in the midst of trying to figure out how to cook something for breakfast. He didn't want something cold and soggy and he didn't want to venture out in the cold to try and get something.

So, he was going to attempt an omelette. Now, Flick was a guy who didn't cook much. His cooking consisted of microwaves and Chinese take out so not good at all but he had a recipe and he wanted something to busy his mind so it was time to give it a try. Hopefully the fire extinguishers worked.

There was a year end countdown on the television, ticking off the best of television, music and movies. Flick wasn't paying much attention to it but it was noise and made it easier for him to focus and to not wander off into an excursion inside his own head.

That never ended well.

[Open, sure. Day off, yay]

Current Mood: creative

flickofthewrist

Despite the cool weather, Flick found himself not wanting to be inside. He'd tried going down to the gym but had no motivation to hit anything so he'd come back to his room, slid himself into a jacket and was now up on the roof, sitting on the ledge.

His feet dangled over the side and he had his eyes closed. The wind stung his cheeks a bit and he pulled his collar up and tucked his hands into his pockets. It was quiet and calm this Saturday. Peace before a storm? Probably. Flick had learned not to really expect long patches of serenity these days. Between his own life an this island, that very rarely happened.

But, enough of the melancholy. Flick opened his eyes and pulled out a bag of jellybeans he'd picked up at some point. Was he going to eat them? Nope. He was going to toss them down six floors and see what kinds of fun that could cause.

Have a good trip, red jellybean!

[Open]

Current Mood: thoughtful

flickofthewrist

After a long weekend, Flick felt like the gym was a necessity. After how said long weekend had gone, it had become imperative. He'd been in there each day and today was no different. Wasn't like he had anything else to do today, was it? Maybe it was good that he was down there since he'd just gotten progressively moodier as each day passed.

Hitting things generally helped sort that out. Not entirely but, for a little while, it gave him something else to focus on. Plus, maybe it'd help him work off some of that turkey and stuffing Joi had sent him home with. He was still eating it since she'd given him what seemed like an unending bowl of food. Not that he was complaining.

Nope, he was just going to beat the hell out of a heavy bag and maybe spend some time running laps around the gym. Or maybe he'd just beat the hell out of the heavy bag and go back to his room and be moody some more.

[Place and post are open]

flickofthewrist

Last weekend about this time, Flick had been someone else who enjoyed the simple things in life like blood, torture, fighting, and destruction. Flick remembered those things acutely even if he'd gotten better at realizing it hadn't really been him. Still, they weren't great things to have suddenly pop up and tease you with.

It was too cold to go brood on the roof and he didn't want to stay in his room so the gym was the most logical place to be. He found his way right over to the heavy bag and, after some warming up, started striking it with stiff jabs and the occasional harder hook.

Chase hadn't been all that fond of using his hands to fight, Flick remembered. He preferred using powers that Flick did not have but would probably be helpful in some instances. He figured he could go take down the Mandel alumni one by one, find Frank and bring him home and never worry about worrying again.

When Flick realized he what he was thinking about, what he was wanting, he grimaced and hit the bag harder and harder. The thoughts wouldn't go away though and he stopped trying to make them. He just hit the bag some more.

[Open]

Current Mood: pessimistic

flickofthewrist

It was such a quaint place Chase had ended up in. It was a tiny speck of an island, filled with people that seemed to smile at him as he passed. They obviously had no idea who he was. Or what he was. It was hilarious. Apparently, his fellow Sons of Ipswich had run off like the cowards they were.

Again, it was hilarious.

Chase was sitting on the ledge of the roof, feet hanging off and tight smile directed at the people below him. Just one flick of his hand, one nod of his head and he could crush them all. But, that might be a bit messy and he did love to have fun with his friends before he killed them. Even if Caleb wasn't around and therefore, couldn't will Chase his powers, Chase figured he'd compromise.

And if that failed, he'd just kill people. That always took the edge off for a little while. Maybe he'd finish this island off before setting off to find Caleb and his friends. It'd be good...practice.

[Open place! Flick's now Chase Collins from the cinematic masterpiece, The Covenant. He's not a nice guy and he's pretty powerful so, yep.]

Current Mood: crazy

flickofthewrist

Seemed like today was a day to spend in the gym. After his class (because he was such a good student and all), Flick had gone to his room, changed and then come down to the gym to get some time in with the heavy bag. He wasn't spending as much time down here as he had in the past but he didn't want to get soft and lazy.

He went bare knuckles as he usually did and started out slow. Hand connected with vinyl, making a satisfying sound that would have made Flick smile if he hadn't been otherwise occupied. He didn't keep that pace for too long because it got boring. Soon enough, he was firing off jabs and hooks at a fairly breakneck pace and feeling the muscles in his shoulders, back, and legs start to burn with exertion.

That's what he wanted to feel, what he'd hoped for when he'd come down here and he wasn't planning on stopping until he didn't think he could stand up anymore. Okay, maybe it wouldn't be that drastic but he wanted to keep sharp. Considering the island, you never knew when it was going to be needed and he didn't want to be caught unaware.

[Open post]

Current Mood: energetic

ultimatehottie.livejournal.com

As it turned out, Johnny did, in fact, know how to throw a party for someone 1) on his own and 2) without just stealing rum from squirrels and claiming that made it a party (what the hell, amnesiac him?).

There was food, there was space for presents, there were non-alcoholic drinks, there was music, and there was no porn in the DVD player, he checked because he did not want any surprises.

With all that set up, the quick sign he put up explained it all: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARA." Whether he didn't know or didn't care that he neglected where a comma should be was up for debate.

seveninchmotto

According to the radio, Isabelle had missed exactly her kind of party last night. While that had caused a little pang of regret in her – because she liked fun, goddammit, and it sounded like there'd been entertainment galore in the common room – it had probably been for the best that she'd missed it. Between her mood swings of late, as well as how last weekend had gone, she was still easing herself back into being social.

And clearly sitting on the edge of the roof and looking out over the town was an important step in that process. But she actually had a map of the town on her lap, and was marking some of the things she could see on it. And just marking places she thought seemed particularly vulnerable.

No reason.

Except there was totally a reason, and it was something her mother had said during one of their conversations over the previous weekend. Homes and protection. They were a thing.

[ooc: Open roof post, omg!]

flickofthewrist

Flick didn't often visit this place. In fact, he wasn't sure if he'd ever been there before but first time for everything, right? It was getting a little too cold to go to the beach and Flick wasn't feeling aggressive enough for the gym. So, why not the pool? Exactly why not.

He brought his towel down there and dropped it on one of the chairs near the pool before stretching his arms out and diving in. He dove deep, staying underwater for as long as his lungs would let him before surfacing. He waded for a few moments before going under and letting himself just float there until his lungs burned and he came up for air again.

This time, Flick didn't go back under. He swam lazily around, recalling some of the summers where he and Jude had gotten lucky and were able to go to his father's country club without his father being there. That place always had nice pools and nice people.

Flick moved over to the side of the pool and propped himself up against the edge, kicking his feet and closing his eyes. The water buoyed him and relaxed him, loosening up tense muscles and pulling away at some of his stress.

[Open, sure. I just wanted to use this icon.]

Current Mood: stressed

seveninchmotto

Isabelle was pretty much back to her usual strength and health by now. The scarring at her throat had almost entirely blended into her skin, and in a few more days it would be entirely gone. So, physically, she was feeling pretty good.

But the inside of her head was a slightly different story. So she was dealing with it by getting breakfast delivered from J,GoB. She... had not asked for as many boxes of all manner of glazed donuts as they delivered, but she couldn't say she exactly minded it a whole lot. She was feeling charitable enough to share.

She opened one of the boxes on the counter and peered at the selection. Picking one might actually take a while.

[oo: Open common room! Come mod your donuts.]

flickofthewrist

After getting back from New York yesterday, Flick had spent most of his time in his room, sleeping off his worry. Unfortunately, he couldn't sleep until everything was over and done with so he'd gotten himself up sometime early this afternoon and gotten out of his room. He was going to go crazy if he didn't give his mind something to do.

The easiest thing was to head to the gym and start beating on the heavy bag. His fingers and hand were feeling well enough that he went without gloves today and he'd already worked up a good sweat about an hour into the workout.

After smacking his hand against the bag and feeling the vibration go up his arm and across his shoulder, Flick took a step back and wiped his face down with his towel and took a drink of his water. He shook his hand out, hoping he hadn't done anything stupid to re-injure it. It was already starting to feel better though. Flick still decided to make his brief break just a little longer before he got back to what he'd been doing.

[Open gym]

Current Mood: awake

flickofthewrist

It felt like it'd been a long time since Flick had come down to the gym. Truth be told, he probably shouldn't have been here today, pushing his hand and fingers but he was. He had some pent up energy that needed to be let out in some fairly aggressive ways.

Where he usually went bare knuckled for this sort of thing, he'd slid on a pair of boxing gloves today to give his finger some protection. It still stung a bit when he struck the bag and he could feel the vibration up his arm but he pushed through it. His fingers were healed and he'd only re-break them if he got too careless.

Which he very well might do but it wasn't something he was aiming for right now. He just wanted to get back into the swing of things. He wanted to hit the heavy bag and he wanted to get out of his head because it was just dangerous up there with all his thoughts and self loathing.

So, he was there, smacking the heavy bag and testing out his healed fingers. So far, so good. Well, mostly good. Sort of good. Good enough.

[Open]

Current Mood: frustrated

flickofthewrist

As soon as Flick walked into the parlor, he saw the chair and the girl standing next to it, face covered and keening moans of distress coming from her. Her face was hidden by her hands and when he stepped closer, he could make out fairly modern clothing.

"You okay, there?"

She didn't answer and Flick raised an eyebrow. He reached out to touch the weird looking chair and the girls moans turned into something that sounded like 'what have I done, oh no oh no' and Flick pulled his hand back.

"Yeah, you just have fun," Flick said, rubbing his arms against the sudden chill in the room before heading over to one of the chairs that looked well built and didn't have any weird looking ghosts standing next to it. He dropped into the seat and pulled out his phone, trying again to get Joi to talk to him.

She was being stubborn this time but from what he'd heard from the kids that lived with her, she was close to cracking. He just had to be persistent. Soon enough, Flick started to hear some hollow, creepy singing and he knew that wasn't coming from the girl with the chair.

"Dammit, this place," he mumbled, shaking his head.

[Open]

Current Mood: apathetic

flickofthewrist

Flick couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten himself down to the common room. He'd been a little preoccupied with things and had been sticking to either his room or spots off island. Today, he was feeling decent enough that stopping by the common room for some food and some bad television didn't seem like a bad idea. Most of his plans for what he was planning for the alumni were in the final stages though he had yet to tell anyone about them. That would probably continue to be true.

Jude's birthday was coming up soon and Flick was trying to keep himself on the straight and narrow until that day passed and he could breathe a little easier again. He missed his brother everyday and that feeling might have been pushing him to actually do what he was doing today. Now, Flick was not a cook or a baker and he could barely microwave some things correctly but today, he was giving cookies a try because he and Jude had shared them when birthdays were remembered and no one was in hiding or hurt when they were kids. Sometimes, they'd find a candle and stick it in a cookie and have a little party while hiding in their rooms or in a closet. Sad, wasn't it?

Chocolate chip had been Jude's favorite so that's what Flick was going for right now. There was a hastily scrawled recipe in his back pocket and ingredients beside him. If anyone said anything about him baking cookies, he'd probably deck them or just curse them out very loudly.

And he wouldn't share the cookies either. The one person he wanted to share with wasn't around anymore so, yeah.

Current Mood: productive

notaweenie.livejournal.com

After his class was done, Barry had headed back to his room and gathered his tablet where he had downloaded all the blockbuster sci-fi movies since 2009.

After setting up the TV, he had the tablet start transmitting the movies so he could watch while putting together some kind of small mechanical cage contraption on the coffee table.

"Jesus Christ," he moaned/bitched as the movie played on. "What Michael Bay does to a fucking cartoon is fucking ridiculous."

Barry started fast forwarding through the talky parts just to get to the action scenes.

[Open like a CR post is supposed to be]

flickofthewrist

It felt like it'd been awhile since Flick had been down to the gym. In reality, it hadn't been that long and he'd been getting exercise other ways but still, it was time to fall back into that routine so he didn't end up getting too doughy and soft. He'd save those moments for when he was behind closed doors.

Usually, he defaulted to flat out boxing when it came to the gym and the heavy bag but he was going a little different today. The Brazilian jujitsu classes he'd taken back at the academy had been in his head lately so that's what he was using today. It meant using his body differently, working muscles that didn't tend to get worked as much when he was just flat out punching the crap out of something or someone.

Which didn't take away how much he liked just punching the crap of some people, of course. It was a good time. He just felt like switching it up. He figured he'd slide into Krav Maga techniques in awhile just to keep that side of things fresh as well.

And then maybe he'd go to straight boxing. End with the fun stuff, why not?

[Open gym, open post]

Current Mood: mellow

seveninchmotto

Isabelle had to admit, it had been nice to spar with another Shadowhunter whose moves she was not a hundred percent familiar with, this morning. Even if said Shadowhunter was a tiny one, and so she'd had to hold back pretty much all of her strength. And also had to use the wooden swords. But still. Yukon wasn't half bad – not that Isabelle had expected her to be – and it had been fun, in a different way from what she usually did in the salle.

What was less nice was when Yukon announced that breakfast made by Isabelle would not cut it, and that they'd either have to get Daddy to make it, or buy something. So in a fit of niceness, Isabelle had ordered in some super healthy breakfast from J,GoB. Hey, growing Shadowhunters needed their sugar! Or maybe they shouldn't have been left unsupervised. Either or.

So, now both girls were curled up on the couch, getting their all-important sugar fix, and talking about such important things as how much Yukon's poor dad still tried to talk to Shadowhunters about mundane things that fell to deaf ears.

And maybe there were even some pastries to share with people who happened to come by. Maybe. Lightwood girls were pretty fickle about sharing.

[ooc: Open!]

flickofthewrist

There were no youthful visitors for Flick. That was probably a damn good thing since, after the previous weekend, he wasn't really in the mood to be messed with by the island. Everyone else could have their kids (and he'd spend the rest of the week laughing at them) while he had a bowl of cereal on the common room couch.

It was early and he was still half asleep. The potential New York trip had gotten pushed off because he was too chickenshit to really face what might be true back there. He still couldn't believe his mother was alive. It was one last way to fuck his mind up that his dead father had left behind. He wasn't going to fall for it.

Nope. He was going to eat cereal and he was going to stretch out on the couch and watch television on this fine Sunday morning. Maybe he'd go back to bed soon. Or maybe he'd go down to the gym and beat on a few things.

But, later.

[Open for young and old.]

Current Mood: awake

flickofthewrist

It'd been awhile since Flick had been down to the gym. Amazingly enough, he'd let himself heal up sufficiently so he wouldn't end up tearing stitches or injuring himself further. The laziness had left him feeling a little restless, if he was honest.

Now that he felt good enough, he was back down there, starting out light. The heavy bag probably hadn't missed him but Flick had missed it. He'd been big into boxing when he'd been in military school and that enjoyment hadn't dimmed when he'd ended up on the streets in New York and then in Mandel Academy.

Maybe he'd move onto some Krav Maga or Brazilian jiujitsu in a few moments but maybe not. He actually liked boxing better than everything else he'd learned. And he thought he was better at it to boot.

So, time to give the heavy bag a beating and stop himself from turning into a doughy bum.

"It's a little tiring to just hear you whine."

Flick's fist nearly slid past the heavy bag when the voice came out of nowhere. He looked around, hands up held in a defensive stance, just in case. When he didn't immediately see anyone, he figured this had to be something similar to when he'd heard Jude and what he'd seen with Sparkle last night.

Still. Flick slowly went back to what he'd been doing, beating on the heavy bag and keeping an ear out for anymore uninvited voices.

[Open post and place, of course. Oh, vampire!Hannibal.]

Current Mood: okay

myownface

Sparkle had literally no freaking clue what he'd just walked in on. He'd been headed to the common room with scavenging somebody else's leftovers in mind, and he'd gotten pretty immediately distracted by the weird vision of the guy in the crazy mask and long, floppy coat.

Really, he had no idea what amused him more. The fact that the guy seemed to be directing some sort of movie in here, or the fact that he was pretty sure the guy had been doing drugs at the time. Never mind the fact that whatever he was directing was named something as completely ridiculous as 'Fandom Chicken.'

"YOUR CLOSE UP WAS BEAUTIFUL, BUT I MAY NEED ANOTHER SHOT SO THAT WE CAN GET YOU FROM A BETTER ANGLE."

... Sparkle was going to leave the leftovers alone and make himself some popcorn. Whatever the hell was going on here, it was comedy gold.

Hell yes, he was taking notes.

[OOC: Open! Because I had to dredge up Fandom Chicken for this BDE. I had to. Blanket permission granted for anyone who wants to quote Valentine if they tag in. I can't vouch for the other thespians who were involved in that glorious trainwreck, of course.]

flickofthewrist

"We can chase them away, but they’ll just come back. That’s what they’re supposed to do."

That voice had Flick sitting up from his slouched state on the common room couch and glaring around the common room. He knew that voice, knew it belonged to Jude but didn't see his brother anywhere. And the words were all wrong. They weren't new. They were from a time when his mother had tried hiding from his father, when they'd tried to be safe and when Flick realized safety wasn't real.

He'd muted the television when he'd heard the voice and now he was sitting in total silence, looking around for something that wasn't there. He rubbed his face and eyes, wondering if maybe he just needed more sleep. He knew he was probably partially crazy already so maybe hearing voices was just the next step on the journey to Crazy Town for him.

"Jude," he sighed quietly, returning to his slouched position on the couch and turning the television up again. Flick shook his head, absently flipping through one of the files of Mandel alumni he'd grabbed from his room while he watched some random movie.

[Snow is everywhere so I called off work. Thus, open post]

Current Mood: sad

suitably_heroic

Okay, so the weather on Fandom was slightly less bone-tinglingly cold than the mainland, but that was really all there was to be said for it. One thing it wasn't, for instance, was ideal weather for anyone to stand around in for prolonged periods of time.

Which was why the Powers That Be had decided it was the exact ideal time to have a fire drill. Loud noise rang through the dorms at exactly 2 AM; good morning, students.

Hope you had time to snag a coat.

[[ fire drill post! go go go! ]]

flickofthewrist

Besides his throat, Flick was pretty much feeling better. He'd felt good enough to walk his way into town to pick up some dinner and he felt good enough that, instead of eating in his room, he'd brought the Chinese food into the common room and taken a seat on one of the sofas.

When he flipped the television on, he immediately came upon some awards show and immediately decided that he wasn't going to be watching that because nope. He didn't want to watch a giant circle jerk no matter how funny anyone might be. Just not his thing.

So, while he forked some noodles into his mouth, his journey through the channels eventually landed him on a movie that he didn't recognize. Or, well, after watching it for a few minutes, he recognized the story it was based on but it was nothing that he remembered.

Well, he was curious now. Might as well take a look and maybe get a laugh or two while he ate his dinner.

[Open common room, of course. Couldn't help it, I came across this movie and had to use it in a post considering Sebastian ends up playing the Hatter too.]

Current Mood: uncomfortable

flickofthewrist

While Flick could deal with the cold weather, that didn't mean he wanted to be out in it, freezing his ass off for longer than necessary. And today, going out there wasn't necessary. He didn't have any classes to run to and he didn't have the motivation to slink into town to try and relieve some townspeople of their belongings.

All he really had the energy to do was wake up, put on some clothes and make his way down to the common room so he could scrounge some food and take advantage of their comfortable sofas. Doing this probably made him lazy but he didn't care. He figured he should take advantage of the downtime since it looked like he had to get back to New York sooner rather than later. It was almost Ranking Day and apparently, Mandel wanted Flick there to see the Dux title taken away.

Honestly, Flick didn't really care. He'd done it on purpose and he was at peace with it. He knew what was going to happen, he knew what he was and what he had to do so he didn't need the title. Joi could have it and be safe. The television was on but Flick wasn't paying that much attention to the soap opera he'd stopped on. His attention was on the news articles that he was scrolling through on his phone.

Time to see what the Mandel alumni (including his asshole father) were up to. See how they were wrecking lives and what the current Mandel students had to look forward to. Such a lovely world they were shaping.

[Open place/post]

Current Mood: cynical

jaegerborn.livejournal.com

Chuck's only class of the day had been cancelled; that was fine with him. Meant he could keep his old training schedule more or less intact for the time being. Combat training, gym, sleep. Combat training, gym, sleep. Right now he was on the gym end of his schedule, lifting weights.

His arms still needed work. He was in good shape, but it could be better. It wasn't the kind of stuff that would land you in the cockpit of a Jaeger, but it was the basics. The only thing worse than coming back to Anchorage with sloppy combat skills was coming back to Anchorage and being unable to hit the basic exercise requirements.

There'd be no slacking around the common rooms for Chuck - at least not to the extent he'd seen other students do so so far. Just work. And weights.

[[ open! ]]

flickofthewrist

So, it was 2014.

Flick wasn't sure if that was true of his New York since time seemed to be be different there but here, at least, he'd made it through the year without dying. He considered that an accomplishment. Of course, it was probably cheating since he hadn't been in New York permanently for awhile which made it easier to stay alive.

Unfortunately, he was going to have to go back soon. He couldn't stay away too long without Mandel getting passive aggressively angry and threatening to an example of Androids and Ghosts. Flick didn't want to care but he did. And with the new information still inside and still eating at him, he knew he needed to go back and get more details soon.

He just didn't want to. What he wanted to do was be a coward and stay here, doing absolutely nothing but stealing things, eating food that didn't belong to him and sleeping. It was a good life but it was fake.

Today, Flick was going to spend a few hours doing something that made him feel a little less fake. He was just going to beat the hell out of the heavy bag. He wanted his muscles to ache and scream at him and he wanted his knuckles to redden up and nearly bruise.

That would keep him grounded. Ish.

[It's an open place and post. Just taking advantage of my day off.]

Current Mood: awake

notajaegerbomb.livejournal.com

Since he would be in the future before midnight hit back home, Raleigh had to celebrate by texting his brother about being in the future. You know, when it finally hit midnight.

Which would come in good time.

But, for now, he was enjoying the cold winter night out on the roof. Maybe there would be fireworks from the mainland, after all!

[[Open, of course!]]

flickofthewrist

The dorms seemed to be clearing out which meant things were a bit more quiet than usual. Flick didn't mind that. Usually, it meant he spent too much time inside his own head but he was exercising a lot of repression right now and it was working well. It helped that he'd had a pretty good time last night so he wasn't immediately waking up in a crappy mood.

Still, the fact that his mood was decent was going to stop him from getting down to the gym and getting some work in on the heavy bag. His punches weren't quite as violent as he tended to get and he was doing a little more moving and dodging than he usually did (since he tended to go full on attack without a strategy) but he was still getting a good work out in.

And he'd probably stay in the gym for awhile since he really wasn't in the mood to go dodging the chocolate coins raining from the sky. If it wasn't one thing, it was another.

[Open, sure]

Current Mood: productive

flickofthewrist

Flick still wasn't in the Christmas spirit. Bet you couldn't have guessed that, right? He hadn't gone Christmas shopping, he hadn't gone out and caroled, and he sure as hell hadn't thanked anyone for all the good stuff that had come to him this year because...there hadn't been a lot of good stuff to be thankful for.

But, Flick was out of his room, at least. After everything that had gone on recently, he was considering that an accomplishment. He was out of his room and stealing food from the fridge in the common room because that was what you did. He'd been intending to get a sandwich but something was wrong with the bread (all the freaking bread) so he'd just gone for cereal instead. The orange juice he'd found wasn't his either. Stolen food was the best food.

He took a seat on the couch and turned on the television, expecting to find nothing but holiday programming. That wouldn't change his mood at all, he knew, but he could at least repress all the bad crap and act like a normal human being for a few days. The act probably wouldn't last but he could give it a try.

[Mmm, vacation. Open post]

Current Mood: indescribable

flickofthewrist

With his two classes finished, Flick made his way down to the gym for some celebratory end of the semester exertion. Except with less celebration and more exertion and rage and anger and devastation because that was still bottled up inside him and he figured that getting it out here would be better than getting it out in the form of a panic attack.

He hadn't spoken to anyone back home since he'd gotten back. Not his father or Mandel or Gwendolyn or anyone. Not that he wanted to speak to any of those people but he figured they'd, at least, try to reach out and gloat in their own passive aggressive way (well, maybe not his father but Flick really didn't want to speak to him right now).

Actually, he hadn't said two words since he'd gotten back on the island. He'd taken his exams, spent time in his room, stolen a few things on the mainland and now he was here, beating on the heavy bag as was his MO. He'd been doing that solid for nearly a half hour when he realized that it wasn't working.

The vice like feeling in his chest wasn't releasing, his anger wasn't abating, and he still wanted to do things that he was trying to avoid thinking about. He didn't want Mandel to be right but he slowly beginning to wonder if the psychopath was right.

Flick kept swinging.

[It's an open post, natch]

Current Mood: aggravated

flickofthewrist

The vending machine full of guns was still there.

Flick had stopped to actually look at the selection after he'd finished up his classes for the day. He was pretty flush from a day spent looking for the money that was popping up across the island so he had enough to afford something in there. He just wasn't sure if that was something he wanted to do. He'd always been more the type to use his hands or whatever was convenient (bat, pipe, box, whatever). Guns just weren't his thing.

But, this machine had to be there for a reason and with all the other weird things that were going down, he figured protection wouldn't go amiss. So, Flick guessed he was gonna do this. It was making him twitchy just thinking about it but still.

Had to be done. He pulled out some money and kept his eyes on the selection of guns, trying to figure out which one he might be able to deal with. He'd have to explain this all to Jude at some point, he knew, but whatever.

Time to buy a gun.

[Open place so the post is open too]

Current Mood: thoughtful

flickofthewrist

Spending time in the gym was a weekly ritual that Flick didn't really want to ignore. It gave him an outlet for a lot of his anger, got him a good workout and helped him with all the stress that seemed to be crushing him. Forgetting the gym would probably mean having a good cry or something in the bathroom and he didn't want to be the guy that did that.

Today, he didn't really have the need to viciously beat on the heavy bag. He was still punching at a quick and hard clip but nothing where he thought his knuckles would split and he'd end up sore and achy. So, there was that. There hadn't been much communication from home and, besides the confrontation with Jude, Flick's week hadn't been terrible.

So, the other shoe was sure to drop pretty soon. It always happened so Flick was taking some time to actually enjoy himself before he had to go back home and face Mandel, face Joi and face the rest of the Wolves. They were out of sight and out of mind.

For now.

[Open for all your gym needs]

Current Mood: okay

flickofthewrist

It didn't look like too much time had passed when Flick's portal finally dumped him on the island. He hadn't wanted to leave, not with Joi at Mandel Academy, but he also hadn't had a choice. He had to play along, keep Mandel happy to keep Joi safe. Still, leaving like that felt awful. It meant Gwendolyn had free reign (though he figured Mandel would keep her in check) and it meant Joi was facing the Wolves without backup.

This time, at least, he was coming back with less injuries. Sure, there was a light bandage on his arm from where Gwendolyn had gouged him with her fingernails but that was about it. He'd come back with a few extra book too, courtesy of his second load of classes. These books probably weren't going to do any good here but he figured he'd do some reading, get ahead of the class and show why he was the Dux.

Everything from home left him feeling pretty pent up, restless and angry. He'd woken up that way this morning in New York and it hadn't gone away. He'd been so sure he would have ripped Mandel apart if he'd seen him earlier and he hadn't. That feeling was still there, that blood lust that worried him and made him wonder about his DNA. Was he in control? Was he just a slave to his own genes?

He didn't know but he knew what he could try to do. He could make his way to the gym and he could start beating a heavy bag until his knuckles bled (not there yet). He could push Jude out of his mind since his brother had been wrong and he could forget Joi and the vulnerability and danger he'd exposed her too. Right now, he just wanted to beat something or someone and the heavy bag was a crappy substitute but it was there so he was going with it for lack of anything better.

Flick would make due.

[Open place, open post. Talk to Flick or use the gym or whatever you'd like. I think my spammage is done. Maybe. ;)]

Current Mood: irate

flickofthewrist

It was chilly today. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, the chill seeping into his bones and making him aware that winter was closing in, but he still wasn't a fan. His worn and battered coat was pulled tight around him and was doing an admirable job of keeping him warm.

He didn't know why he'd come up here today. Flick tended to keep to the gym or his own floor but he felt like getting some fresh air today. He'd hopped up on the roof ledge, letting his feet dangle over the side and he closed his eyes, breathing in.

Unbidden, Jude floated in front of him, arms crossed. Flick started, almost reaching out to drag his brother back towards the tangible ground but his hand didn't reach and Jude merely laughed.

"Already dead, big brother," Jude reminded him with a small smile. "Don't worry."

"Don't say that," Flick said, scrunching his shoulders up. "I should be the dead one, not you."

When Flick looked up, Jude was closer and his eyes were blazing. "Don't you ever say that again, Flick. Ever. I mean it. Promise me."

Flick shook his head and tried to wake up or banish Jude since he didn't want to have this conversation. "No. It's true."

There wasn't time for a reply because Flick jerked away from the small nap he'd fallen into while sitting on the roof. Jude was gone. The air was still seeping into his skin and he exhaled quietly.

[Open space, open post. NFB on Jude appearing since he's a ghostie so feel free to hear Flick talking to no one at all, if you'd like.]

Current Mood: blank

makemyownway.livejournal.com

It had taken most of yesterday for it to sink in that Cade had no real supervision. He had spent most of the morning jumping on his bed until he'd catapaulted off if it and landed in his closet (...he'd pretend he meant to do that...), and was now looking for something to eat in the common room.

He levitated a box of cereal from the cabinet and sat down on the sofa, eating it by the handful.

Life was astral when you were three.

flickofthewrist

Flick was going to go to his death cursing Anakin Skywalker's name for this stupid assignment. The stupid robot kid thing had screamed the entire way back to the dorms and hadn't stopped when he'd dropped the thing on the bed. At this point, Flick just wanted the damn crying to stop. He tried to remember back to when he and Jude had been smaller to things that Jude had done to take care of the both of them.

The memories seemed to be growing fainter by the way and, if he'd been alone, he might have worried about that but he had no time for introspection right now. Mud, as he was so named, was still crying so Flick took the thing down to the common room and set him in front of the television. He found the loudest, brightest cartoon he could find and pointed at the TV.

"Watch it and shush," he said, hoping that worked. When it did, Flick thanked anyone who was listening silently and made his way into the kitchen. He didn't want to sit near Mud in case the thing wanted to cuddle or something.

There was food in the kitchen that he could eat while he contemplated just leaving Mud in front of the TV for the remainder of the week.

[Open CR is open. Mud is the best name for a kid ever]

Current Mood: irritated

graveyardwolf.livejournal.com

So it turned out there was a whole channel dedicated to cheesy horror movies. It might not be Halloween time anymore but Isaac was always up for ragging on cheesy flicks about killer clowns. He even popped some popcorn for the occasion.

He hoped one of the clowns killed somebody with balloon animals. That'd be hilarious.

[Post is open!]

flickofthewrist

There'd been a new file on Flick's computer when he'd woken up that morning. It hadn't taken a genius to figure out who sent it, not with file name like when you're ready. Mandel was apparently sending him gifts these days. Flick's cursor had hovered over the file for a few moments before he'd turned his computer off. He knew what was in that file: information. Information on his father and possibly the proof that he needed to implicate his old man in Jude's murder. But, Flick wasn't going to take that route, not yet. No, he'd use that information later. After he burned Mandel Academy to the ground, after he took Mandel himself. After. Sure, in the interim, he'd have to worry about his DNA turning him into a murderous predator but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

His leg was a little stiff this morning so he was taking it easy in the common room. He had a soft spot for the couches, what could he say? The stiffness in his leg meant he'd ordered lunch and had it brought to him. Nothing fancy, just a pizza with everything on it, but he hadn't had to walk into town and it was cheap. He still had plenty of money from selling a bunch of crap last week.

Of course, his luck had to run out eventually. As soon as he turned on the television, an animated Christmas movie assaulted him. That's right, the holidays were coming, weren't they? Great. That was fantastic.

He changed the channel. More Christmas movies. Another channel switch, another Christmas movie.

So, apparently the television hated him. Fine. He'd just hate watch the animated Christmas movie and curse the world when Jingle Bells ended up stuck in his head.

[Open place. Canonical parts lifted from How to Lead a Life of Crime. Christmas is coming.]

Current Mood: melancholy

flickofthewrist

It was possibly too soon to be in the gym, doing anything that might put unnecessary stress on his leg and arm but Flick didn't care. He'd spent a week doing nothing at all that might aggravate injuries and that was enough for him. He'd had a successful night last night and had been able to stash a good chunk of money away for things he'd need in the future. He'd ignored Mandel's email for another day while he figured out what to say and how to say it.

He took a few minutes to stretch, something he didn't typically do, just to loosen up muscles that might have tightened up with inactivity. His arm ached briefly but otherwise, that felt fine. His leg still wasn't great but he didn't need his leg to punch and that's all he intended to do for the moment.

He was going bare knuckles again, slamming flesh against padding and enjoying the satisfying sound he made when his fists connected with the heavy bag. Mr. Wilson might have beaten him but he wasn't broken. They needed another strategy if they wanted to teach him a lesson. Physical pain wasn't something that he minded all that much. It was a familiar burden, something he'd lived with for years.

Mandel would need to find a better way to teach him a lesson because all he'd learned was that Mandel kept a lot of goons on his payroll and that he was dumb enough to think a beating was going to make him fall in line. It was laughable.

Flick focused on the heavy bag and ignoring the steadily growing ache in his arm and the continued throbbing in his leg. He'd deal with that later.

[Open place, open post. Talk to Flick or use the gym for your own means.]

Current Mood: pessimistic

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