Diego 'Rod' Rodney (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rookiemyass) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-06-04 09:40 pm
rookiemyass) wrote in towerofanimus2012-06-04 09:40 pm
Entry tags:
001 | Open
Characters: Rod and ???
Setting: Room 04-14, Dormitory Floor 4 hallway
Format: Prose!
Summary: Rod wakes up in some weird fetish scene that he definitely didn't sign up for.
Warnings: Rod's foul mouth
It was, however, the first time that Rod had woken up in an unfamiliar place, completely incapacitated and more than a little disoriented and clad in what was possibly the most uncomfortable outfit ever, complete with some kind of freaky BDSM collar.
…seriously, what everloving the hell?
After grappling with the collar around his neck for several minutes in a vain attempt to get the fucking thing off already, Rod swore colorfully and heaved himself up off of the bed to further examine his surroundings. Whoever had set all this up was clearly one very sick individual, judging by the wannabe horror flick notes he’d found on the bedside table and the fact that he was wearing a fucking skin-tight cat suit and a god damn collar.
Yeah, okay, can we just take a second to revisit the collar? Rod was a pretty firm believer in ‘whatever floats your boat’ – hell, just about everyone was into something a little weird if you dug deep enough – but this kind of get-up was going way beyond the realm of anything that he would even remotely feel comfortable with.
He must really have pissed someone off good this time.
Thankfully, whoever he’d managed to piss off had been thoughtful enough to pack him a freaking chest of necessities, so it wasn’t long before he was stuffing the strange white outfit into the chest and donning his much more comfortable black suit. It was true that he didn’t really need to wear the uniform anymore, since technically the Turks of his era had disbanded, but he’d found that things tended to run a little more smoothly when he was wearing a suit; suits meant business and potential negotiations, whereas dressing like a punkass generally guaranteed he'd be duking it out with his fists, whether he wanted to or not. Whoever he ran into was just going to have to suck it up and deal with the fact that he was wearing combat boots, though, and he hadn’t even bothered to check if his tie had been packed in with his personal effects.
Wallet, gloves, and one thunder-equipped EMR later, he was ready to get his reconnaissance on, oldschool Turk-style. Cautiously, he poked his head outside the room, hoping against all odds that he’d recognize wherever it was he’d been taken captive and be able to get out without too much trouble.
Setting: Room 04-14, Dormitory Floor 4 hallway
Format: Prose!
Summary: Rod wakes up in some weird fetish scene that he definitely didn't sign up for.
Warnings: Rod's foul mouth
It was, however, the first time that Rod had woken up in an unfamiliar place, completely incapacitated and more than a little disoriented and clad in what was possibly the most uncomfortable outfit ever, complete with some kind of freaky BDSM collar.
…seriously, what everloving the hell?
After grappling with the collar around his neck for several minutes in a vain attempt to get the fucking thing off already, Rod swore colorfully and heaved himself up off of the bed to further examine his surroundings. Whoever had set all this up was clearly one very sick individual, judging by the wannabe horror flick notes he’d found on the bedside table and the fact that he was wearing a fucking skin-tight cat suit and a god damn collar.
Yeah, okay, can we just take a second to revisit the collar? Rod was a pretty firm believer in ‘whatever floats your boat’ – hell, just about everyone was into something a little weird if you dug deep enough – but this kind of get-up was going way beyond the realm of anything that he would even remotely feel comfortable with.
He must really have pissed someone off good this time.
Thankfully, whoever he’d managed to piss off had been thoughtful enough to pack him a freaking chest of necessities, so it wasn’t long before he was stuffing the strange white outfit into the chest and donning his much more comfortable black suit. It was true that he didn’t really need to wear the uniform anymore, since technically the Turks of his era had disbanded, but he’d found that things tended to run a little more smoothly when he was wearing a suit; suits meant business and potential negotiations, whereas dressing like a punkass generally guaranteed he'd be duking it out with his fists, whether he wanted to or not. Whoever he ran into was just going to have to suck it up and deal with the fact that he was wearing combat boots, though, and he hadn’t even bothered to check if his tie had been packed in with his personal effects.
Wallet, gloves, and one thunder-equipped EMR later, he was ready to get his reconnaissance on, oldschool Turk-style. Cautiously, he poked his head outside the room, hoping against all odds that he’d recognize wherever it was he’d been taken captive and be able to get out without too much trouble.
Yuffie, why're you such a jerk? /sob
"I wish I didn't! He's a real pain in the ass." There was none of the affection in her voice that would've been there if she were to, say, call Cloud the same thing.
"Gawd, you're a Turk too, aren't you? Don't you ShinRa people ever go away!?"
She just wanted some peace and quiet and not have to be reminded of any Planet-destroying corporations, but noooo, some asshole in a Turk suit just had to show up and ruin her day!
lol because Reno types, everywhere!
Yuffie's next comment didn't seem to amuse him quite as much.
"Woah, the hell's your problem, pipsqueak? Yeah, I'm a Turk, what of it? If I remember all the way back to two whole seconds ago, you're the one goin' around talkin' to guys dressed like me, so just chill the fuck out, okay?"
no subject
Granted, she was fighting beside AVALANCHE during those battles, but he didn't need to know that. She grabbed her Oritsuru and aimed, ready to strike. "Get ready to cower before the great Yuffie Kisaragi!"
GURGLE.
Yuffie looked down at her stomach, the guilty party that had emitted that atrocious noise, and sighed. "Damn it, I'm hungry! I don't have time to fool with you."
no subject
He was hungry too, though, come to think of it. Didn't that note say that there was a cafeteria somewhere?
"So, you new here too?" he asked, dropping the act and peering at Yuffie curiously. She was kind of a cute kid, even if she was dressed all funny and waving what looked to be a very sharp weapon around. Someone should probably take that thing away from her before she hurt herself. Or someone else. Or, more specifically, him. "I hear they got food for us somewhere - real tasty soundin' shit called 'oatmeal' or whatever. Yeah..."
no subject
This guy was just as annoying as all the other Turks; maybe that was criteria for joining. Well, Rod could write Yuffie off as just a "cute kid" if he wanted to, but he'd be the one to regret it when she lifted his materia from him.
She shoved her hands into the front pockets of her shorts and glowered at him. "...A few weeks," she muttered after a few minutes.
Oh, yuck. Oatmeal. She had discovered the hard way that you have to eat the oatmeal first. It was a shame that the tower was short on everything but oatmeal, or she'd try to trick him into making the same mistake. Although...
"The oatmeal's pretty good, actually. Better than a lot of the other stuff."
no subject
He smirked again as he realized what it was that seemed off. “So how come you ain’t had anything for a few days, hm? Oatmeal must not be that good… Or else it’s complete chocobo turd and you’re just havin’ me on.”
Rod felt proud of his deduction; on occasion, his brain wasn’t a completely barren wasteland!