Rich Goranski (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
firewalled) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2019-10-07 10:58 am
firewalled) wrote in middaeg2019-10-07 10:58 am
[Open] I wanted all the things that I haven't got
Who: Rich Goranski and you!
When: Beginning of the month up until the event
Where: All around the city, including in Desmodus Mori and the refugee area
What: Rich goes about fulfilling some quests while also dealing with some monster changes. Also feat. a dash of punk.
Warnings: Some mention of broken families in the last prompt. Otherwise it should be good!
Anyways, here's Wonderwall
[Rich needed a break.
Honestly, most people probably did. Dorchacht had taken a lot out of the spirits of the people involved in that struggle, and even for the ones at home, Rich heard about what they had to deal with from anti-Bonded protestors.
And of course, there's been the whole issue of the SQUIP's continued efforts to get to everyone Rich ever happened to care about, which is making Rich more than a little worried about the new arrivals, especially Jeremy and Michael. He knows the two of them are smart, but could they hold up against literal magic? A freaking android apparently couldn't.
But worrying can only get Rich so far. And speaking of freaking androids, Connor had definitely given Rich a suggestion that's been kind of ingrained in his head as he starts looking for an outlet for pent up energy.
So after his shifts at the music store, Rich takes his guitar out from the shop, moves to an empty spot by the park, and sets up. He feels a little silly, leaving his guitar case open on the ground, but... hey, this is where most stars start out, right?
So he plays. His voice is fairly shaky at first, confidence not quite embedded into that aspect of his musical interest, but as he starts getting into the music, old classics he listened to freshman year of high school, his enthusiasm picks up, and he bounces around to the beat.
When he finishes, he looks up to whoever might have been observing, giving a sheepish grin.]
Any requests?
[His taste is unique, but he can stop playing anti-establishment 'fight the man' nonsense and pull out a classic love song if he must.]
Well, it's true that they say love bites
[The request had seemed fairly simple at first. Donate blood for some vampires to have a sustainable and consensual source of food and it's done. Rich wasn't squeamish, so donating blood seemed like an easy way to make some cash. Hell, maybe it was like the blood drives at school and he'd get a cookie after.
But when he does get into the bar, he does feel... a bit like he's bitten off more than he can chew. Particularly because he remembers now that this place probably doesn't have modern day needles and IVs. How in the hell does he donate?
Any vampires or regulars who know the drill should probably help the guy, who's now staring at his arms, wondering if tattoos were an issue.]
Carpenters: having daddy issues since Jesus Christ
[Even if Rich needed a break from the stress of last month, he couldn't completely stay out of it, so when he realized the refugees were in need of homes, he didn't blink before signing up. Whenever he has spare time, he's over in the area, helping move building materials and furniture around. He's not an expert in carpentry, but he took wood shop, so he knows how to at least cut planks of wood down to smaller planks.
When he takes a break from heavy lifting, Rich can often be found goofing off with the kids, teaching them games or telling them stories. He might appreciate a teammate to help him wrangle all the kids after a run outside... or he can always be scolded for encouraging the kids' loud laughter and screeching. But would you really ruin the fun of a dozen little kids, plus the biggest kid of them all?]
When you're half dragon but not even the cool Skyrim protagonist kind
[No matter how busy Rich attempts to keep himself, there isn't much he can do to avoid the changes, when they come. They aren't even noticeable physical ones this time... but they're still frustrating.
First comes fatigue. The rain probably makes everyone a little gloomy, but Rich wasn't expecting it to be this overwhelming. It gets to the point where he doesn't even want to crawl out of bed... and when he does, he can often be found an hour later, passed out leaning against a wall or just faceplanted on the ground. If anyone attempts to approach him then, they'll likely end up with a very cold teenager clinging to them until he's warm enough to come to and realize just how embarrassing he's acting.
Then there's a little itch, some urge in the back of his mind that gets worse when he passes art galleries and shops with framed paintings. He doesn't mean to, but he spends ages staring at the pictures, especially those of families... of happy, sweet mothers and brave, protective fathers. Happy scenes, no alcohol or hospital rooms in sight.
Perhaps you see him staring at one of these paintings, looking like he's going to swipe it off the wall at any moment. Or perhaps, if you carry any photos on your person, you may find them missing from your pockets, only to see Rich wandering past, the picture still in his hands as he stares down at it, making a beeline for home so he can add it to his collection.]
When: Beginning of the month up until the event
Where: All around the city, including in Desmodus Mori and the refugee area
What: Rich goes about fulfilling some quests while also dealing with some monster changes. Also feat. a dash of punk.
Warnings: Some mention of broken families in the last prompt. Otherwise it should be good!
Anyways, here's Wonderwall
[Rich needed a break.
Honestly, most people probably did. Dorchacht had taken a lot out of the spirits of the people involved in that struggle, and even for the ones at home, Rich heard about what they had to deal with from anti-Bonded protestors.
And of course, there's been the whole issue of the SQUIP's continued efforts to get to everyone Rich ever happened to care about, which is making Rich more than a little worried about the new arrivals, especially Jeremy and Michael. He knows the two of them are smart, but could they hold up against literal magic? A freaking android apparently couldn't.
But worrying can only get Rich so far. And speaking of freaking androids, Connor had definitely given Rich a suggestion that's been kind of ingrained in his head as he starts looking for an outlet for pent up energy.
So after his shifts at the music store, Rich takes his guitar out from the shop, moves to an empty spot by the park, and sets up. He feels a little silly, leaving his guitar case open on the ground, but... hey, this is where most stars start out, right?
So he plays. His voice is fairly shaky at first, confidence not quite embedded into that aspect of his musical interest, but as he starts getting into the music, old classics he listened to freshman year of high school, his enthusiasm picks up, and he bounces around to the beat.
When he finishes, he looks up to whoever might have been observing, giving a sheepish grin.]
Any requests?
[His taste is unique, but he can stop playing anti-establishment 'fight the man' nonsense and pull out a classic love song if he must.]
Well, it's true that they say love bites
[The request had seemed fairly simple at first. Donate blood for some vampires to have a sustainable and consensual source of food and it's done. Rich wasn't squeamish, so donating blood seemed like an easy way to make some cash. Hell, maybe it was like the blood drives at school and he'd get a cookie after.
But when he does get into the bar, he does feel... a bit like he's bitten off more than he can chew. Particularly because he remembers now that this place probably doesn't have modern day needles and IVs. How in the hell does he donate?
Any vampires or regulars who know the drill should probably help the guy, who's now staring at his arms, wondering if tattoos were an issue.]
Carpenters: having daddy issues since Jesus Christ
[Even if Rich needed a break from the stress of last month, he couldn't completely stay out of it, so when he realized the refugees were in need of homes, he didn't blink before signing up. Whenever he has spare time, he's over in the area, helping move building materials and furniture around. He's not an expert in carpentry, but he took wood shop, so he knows how to at least cut planks of wood down to smaller planks.
When he takes a break from heavy lifting, Rich can often be found goofing off with the kids, teaching them games or telling them stories. He might appreciate a teammate to help him wrangle all the kids after a run outside... or he can always be scolded for encouraging the kids' loud laughter and screeching. But would you really ruin the fun of a dozen little kids, plus the biggest kid of them all?]
When you're half dragon but not even the cool Skyrim protagonist kind
[No matter how busy Rich attempts to keep himself, there isn't much he can do to avoid the changes, when they come. They aren't even noticeable physical ones this time... but they're still frustrating.
First comes fatigue. The rain probably makes everyone a little gloomy, but Rich wasn't expecting it to be this overwhelming. It gets to the point where he doesn't even want to crawl out of bed... and when he does, he can often be found an hour later, passed out leaning against a wall or just faceplanted on the ground. If anyone attempts to approach him then, they'll likely end up with a very cold teenager clinging to them until he's warm enough to come to and realize just how embarrassing he's acting.
Then there's a little itch, some urge in the back of his mind that gets worse when he passes art galleries and shops with framed paintings. He doesn't mean to, but he spends ages staring at the pictures, especially those of families... of happy, sweet mothers and brave, protective fathers. Happy scenes, no alcohol or hospital rooms in sight.
Perhaps you see him staring at one of these paintings, looking like he's going to swipe it off the wall at any moment. Or perhaps, if you carry any photos on your person, you may find them missing from your pockets, only to see Rich wandering past, the picture still in his hands as he stares down at it, making a beeline for home so he can add it to his collection.]
Wonderwall
At first he's only interested because it's Rich, and hey, he can play guitar? He thought the electric guitar on Rich's wall at home was only displayed for chill points. Soon he's enveloped in the music on its own merit. His fingers drum the beat against his knee, and briefly, there's a point that Jeremy forgets everything except for the pleasant weather and the stillness of the mind that comes with a certain kind of music. If this is how Michael feels whenever he's wearing headphones, that explains a lot.
Others make requests, but not many. It's almost rude how ungrateful the shifting spectators are, Jeremy thinks. It takes a lot of courage to get up and perform even if someone's asking you to do it.
Jeremy spends an entire song-and-a-half trying to think up the perfect request for Rich, something that they both might know that would go well with an acoustic. The whole next song is spent gearing up to raise his hand and it's only the worry that Rich would pack up soon that makes him call out when the strumming of the last chord fades:
"Do you know Bleachers? I Wanna Get Better?"
no subject
Not that he wasn't in a good mood, but his expression immediately brightens spotting one of his friends.
"Jeremy! I didn't see you there."
He's a little embarrassed that he's been caught like this by someone who does know him well, but Jeremy isn't running away screaming, so apparently Rich isn't completely terrible. And apparently he likes it enough to make a request. Rich smiles, remember hearing the song in Michael's PT Cruiser while said driver and Jeremy squabbled about music taste.
"Yeah, I think I know that one. Let's see..."
He starts strumming a few chords, before winking at Jeremy teasingly.
"You're gonna have to remind me of all the words. I know you've got the voice for it anyways."
no subject
His grin vanishes when Rich prompts him. He was thinking about singing along, the same way you might picture yourself crawling up onstage and grabbing the mic in a crowded auditorium. Jeremy wonders for a moment how Rich even knows he likes to sing.
Oh--timeline weirdness. Right.
He's not enough of a coward to refuse. As soon as the right note comes from under Rich's fingertips, Jeremy digs his fingers into the grass (no, he's not going to stand up and take over Rich's performance, thanks), "Hey, I hear the voice of a preacher from the back room..."
Make no mistake--Rich had better sing along or Jeremy's going to die on the spot.
no subject
"While my friends were getting high and chasing girls down parkway lines,
I was losing my mind 'cause the love, the love, the love, the love, the love,
That I gave wasted on a nice face..."
He's careful not to drown Jeremy out. As far as he's concerned, this is a dual performance now, even if Jeremy doesn't want to stand up. They can just pretend they're belting out songs in the car again.