II. (open) i'm gonna fight with myself til i'm bleeding

[oorah]

featuring: hotdog castle & everyone (open to new arrivals too!!)
what's happening? frank feeding everyone venison dogs; frank fighting everyone; introlog spillover stuff + whatever else you want hmu
day: 11th nighttime (after all new arrivals are out and about/getting settled)
content warnings: ground meat, being a good neighbor, boyfights
notes: hit me up on PM or plurk hotdoge if you want anything else! happy to oblige

A. have you ever had a hot dog cooked by a guy named hotdog? this is going on instastories.

[ the time has come for frank to probably show all you losers what a hot dog is. for posterity or some such. he's been curing deer meat from a recent hunting trip with aloy and after their housemate reigen had soundproofed house six's kitchen, well. it seemed as good a time as any to put his plan in motion. not to mention he's in a good mood for once after encountering his best friend among the new arrivals.

early in the evening, frank will be piping his mixture into homemade casings with the doors to the back deck wide open for anyone to come pester him. and then later on of course he will be cooking them up with mustard he made and onions he found. he will also chop up pickles from the natives for anyone who gets down like that. none of y'all better ever ask him what a hot dog is ever again!!!

if you come in while he's cooking expect to be put to work, and did i mention he'll be downing rosé the whole time? e n j o y.

note: the kitchen is only soundproof when all the doors are closed. he will tell everyone on arrival this, so while he's cooking the doors will be shut but all other times feel free to mingle!! ]

B. the rules of fight club are bring snacks and make sure frank castle stays in bruises. tia for your contribution.

[ after posting up this little gem, frank has been steadily gathering members for his and mike's "club." his garage is a makeshift boxing arena and open for all any time they want to blow off steam or learn some new skills from punching bag himself. or from whoever else is lingering around. feel free to match yourselves and have a fight without him too, he'll ref!

the only rules of fight club are: bring snacks, agree with your partner on tactics: weapons/no weapons, fists only/every man for himself etc etc. AND when one person taps out or doesn't get up the match is over. the garage is approximately 80% soundproof. every fighter must wear wraps on their hands to muffle sound and agree not to shout or make loud noises, even in pain. soft-volume trash talking is allowed and perhaps even encouraged... ]

C. write your own starter or ping me for one!

Comments

[gaits]

Limiting our means of taking care of ourselves isn't rocket science either

[ but here, have a hot dog as compensation. david notes the lack of shame but he doesn't comment on it; tetora looks young, but for all he knows he could be a trained assassin or something. this place takes all kinds. ]

You're welcome to help yourself
Like I said just leave something for us.

[nishizono]

[ ...he has to admit, that was very sensible. urgh, no. ]

you're annoyingly logical and nice about it, i hope you're proud of yourself.

[ he makes a point of putting the knife back, keeping both eyes on the man as he slides the blade back into its place in the drawers, noiselessly shutting it when he's done boring holes at the mellow dude's face.

and then he tilts his head. like a cat does, with its food. ]

how come you're not with the rest of the guys fighting in the garage?

[gaits]

[ he was expecting more of a verbal protest, or even to be ignored completely, but tetora's response and the way he puts the knife back coaxes a quiet laugh from him, shoulders jerking up slightly with a twitch of his lips. he shakes his head and goes back to wiping down the counter, but keeps his device near for conversation. ]

I'm no good in fights

[ like have you seen this beanpole of a guy. while frank is built like an actual brick house, david is skin and bones, spindly enough that anyone here would have no trouble breaking him in half. he's the brains in their shitty little two person act, the chair guy, the sidekick --

anyway. ]

Put me in front of a computer though and I could go to town

[nishizono]

oh cool you're a nerd

[ and just like that, tetora's up in the man's space, leaning against the spot on the counter closest to uncomfortable that he can manage. he has the decency to lean on the cleaned areas, at least. ]

you should teach me some tricks. i'll teach you japanese or like

how to fight with a knife, i don't know. what skills do you lack?

[ if he's lacking in manners, it's not because it's a choice. no one raised him; he was brought up wholly on a steady diet of murder, drugs, and backstabbing that he'd be deemed too much of a nightmare for an after-school education program warning. what kindness he knows has been bled to death in front of him too many times - stripped him of the basics of social habits like politeness and niceties.

here, pictured in perfect resolution: a parentless boy in a young man's body. ]

[gaits]

[ it's not being called a nerd that bothers him -- david has been called that and a lot of other things in his life during his university days and even afterwards. it's not even tetora being in his space that bothers him either, but it's the things he offers in return that unsettles him. communication (i'll teach you japanese), violence (or like how to fight with a knife), proficiency (what skills do you lack?): the foundations of a perfect weapon, a tool to be used and then discarded.

he's seen a lot of that lately, hasn't he?

but david doesn't move back, and a flicker of something softer crosses his features briefly before it disappears. ]

Let me see your device.
I'll show you something

[ once tetora hands it to him, he fiddles with the coding for a bit, setting tetora up with his own encrypted filter for the network. ]

For whenever you need to turn invisible
Or when you need to tell your friend they're being dumb on a public post in private

[nishizono]

[ oh, nifty. having a filter that masks his username won't have much use just yet, not when the pool of strangers seems so limited, but there's always the possibility of someone from home arriving to fuck things up for tetora. this could prove useful someday. ]

you call your friends idiots often?
don't answer that just yet.

[ he fiddles with the device for a bit when the man hands it back, testing the settings on the little machine to his satisfaction. whatever assumptions the man may have about tetora won't be assuaged; tetora's proficiency with computers won't be missed when he makes small changes to the filter just from a short period of observation, changing his display name to "antichrist" then back to its previous setting. haha, right? antichrist is funny.

well, the movie was. the harbinger of evil incarnate had a crappy haircut. ]

where did you learn code?

[gaits]

[ listen, it's really hard to find tech savvy people here, alright. so tetora's changes to the filter are met with pleasant surprise, the line of his shoulders easing into something more relaxed. even if the new display name does make him side-eye a bit. ]

Just one.

[ tetora may be able to guess who. ]

High school. Where it all starts, I guess
Mostly self-taught.
Majored in it when I got to university; been doing it ever since.

What about you?

[nishizono]

[ is it a man named after a penis? oh wait, no, that's kilgrave. what about a hotdog? ]

self-taught. learned off books from an older dude who graduated from the same thing.
practical application was trial and error, emphasis on error.

you like what you ended up doing with it?

[ it's both impersonal and all too personal a question; tetora understands the duality of it perfectly. it's why he asked in the first place. ]

[gaits]

[ the hotdog is always the answer. always.

it takes david a moment to really decide on what to say. he's good at what he does, and once upon a time, he took pride in it. but in the recent year, he's come to truly understand that just because he's good at it doesn't necessarily mean he likes it, and that given the chance, maybe he would've thought a little longer before refusing to continue writing apps in silicon valley. ]

No, not exactly
But I had to.

[nishizono]

had to keep going, you mean?

[ it's a loaded question. he knows it's loaded with too many implications, too many assumptions. and yet curiosity lures the cat into the bag, and that's how it ends up in there in the first place, right? ]

you don't have to tell me anything. i'm fine with the mystery.

[ in fact, he offers his hand to the man. an invitation. ]

i can show you some stuff instead. consider it payback for the knives.

[gaits]

Yeah, something like that.

[ and he should be more wary about taking that invitation. he's caught the teen taking knives and he's getting the vibe that tetora isn't exactly like the teens he's used to from home.

but david trusts his gut and it's telling him that this should be fine. trust itself is a two way street, after all. so in the end, he shrugs and reaches out to take it. ]

[nishizono]

[ he takes micro's hand and the sensation is immediate for the both of them - it's like a wave of warm water submerging the body in one go, closing out at the top of the head. the world around them melts away, and tetora allows tokyo's skyscape to bleed into the liminal space of their shared minds. even tokyo tower makes an appearance, standing tall and bright in the horizon.

as well, tetora can speak without fear in this space. it's all in the mind, after all. ]

Welcome to Tokyo.

[gaits]

[ it's sudden, too quick for him to really process at first, but the initial sharp intake of breath is loud even to him. david blinks, sunspots bursting behind his eyelids at the change in brightness, taking in the buildings and open sky in perfect clarity, like he's actually standing right here in tokyo. but he knows he isn't. ]

... Wow. [ holy shit. ] Okay.

[ he breathes a startled laugh, still taking the scenery around him to let his own minor changes go unnoticed: his robin's egg blue jumpsuit traded in for slacks and a pressed button up, his hair less unruly and looking like he remembered to shave for once. the fact that he can actually talk here gets to him perhaps even more than the change in location, and he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. ]

A little warning would've been nice, but this is pretty amazing.

[nishizono]

It's a neat party trick.

[ he's perched on the arm of a streetside bench, the soles of his feet hooked over the edge of the seat. he's stripped of the ugly coarse-textured jumpsuit, instead dressed in his usual fashion - all street, all trashy. there's a faceless quality to the men and women milling around in the imagined crowd, but some faces are decidedly distinct. some faces repeat.

little ghosts from tetora's world of horrors. ]

You like it? You can touch shit here too, everything here is informed by what you and I have experienced. It's like that Matrix movie, only better.

[gaits]

Some party trick.

[ he's heard of some unusual things: kilgrave's abilities, daredevils', even the avengers -- but it's all kind of felt removed from him, like he wasn't actually living in the same universe where aliens have attacked new york, or asgardians can appear whenever they please, or hulk could be tearing shit up in the next city over. not very long ago, he had helped frank take down the most powerful man in the cia with nothing more than a hasty, last minute plan. no super human strength, no high tech gadgets, no turning into the size of a five story building -- just dumb willpower and desperation, letting almost everything ride on frank's unwavering ability to get back up even after getting beaten to within an inch of his life, and his own blood serving as reward at the end of it all.

but actually experiencing something like this himself makes all of that more real, puts it into perspective that he would never expect. it's amazing, what tetora can do, and he's still trying to wrap his mind around it. but he doesn't say it, looking away from tokyo tower with a softer smile on his face. instead: ]

Know a good place to get tea?

[nishizono]

[ follow me, tetora gestures, and off he goes into the winding roads of tokyo's back alleys. skyscrapers tower high overhead, casting giant shadows across the mid-afternoon sky that covers them. the sun is exactly like tetora last remembers it - hot, bright, summery like a kiss to the back of the neck. they cross small intersections with half-working traffic lights, zig-zag through marketplaces until they reach a small izakaya that sells ramen along with rice burgers, the menu proudly announcing ENGLISH CUSTOMERS WELCOME above a picture of the flag of the united states of america.

it's the little details.

an unmemorable man serves them tea, piping hot and straight from the kettle, but tetora gives his cup to david as he asks - politely - for a can of soda. ]

I love it here. They make really good ramen. Every time I do this - I come back here. You got a place like that, back home?

[gaits]

[ tetora gestures for him to follow and david does, immediately and without any reservations. the winding back alleys and towering skyscrapers remind him of new york, and he stares around more than any average person would not just because this is an entirely different country (matrix reenactment or not), but because it's been so long since he's actually been outside during the day. he's been holed up in his dingy warehouse for a better part of a year, hardly ever going outside except at night, and even then his trips were limited. there's a sense of freedom here, even if in the confines of their shared minds -- it's the most relaxed he's felt in months.

the izakaya pulls a smile to his face, bowing his head a little in thanks for the tea. he curls his hands around the mug, breathes in matcha and something like barley; it's no chamomile, but it does the trick. ]

No wonder you're so polite. [ he takes a sip, scrunches his nose a little at the heat. ] Sort of. We don't have much ramen, but there's a hole in the wall sandwich shop down the road.

[ the izakaya ripples around them, a part of it fading away to be replaced by the interior of a tiny, bustling diner. a large blackboard hangs above the register, covered in sandwich names and specials scrawled over it in brightly colored chalk. the quiet of the izakaya is replaced by louder conversation, the sharp sound of a bell occasionally cutting through new york accented english. ]

They've got a line out the door every day, but it's worth the wait.