bakerstreet | (no subject)

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ROAD TRIP MEME

How To:
1. Post with your character and preferences.
2. Others tag you, and will you look at that, you're now on a road trip together! For some reason.
3. Optionally, roll from 1-15 to get your scenario.
4. ???
5. JACKPOT.

1: LOST You should have made a left toin at Albuquerque, or maybe you've been holding the map upside down this whole time! Whatever it is, you're hopelessly LOST. Will you make it back on the path to your destination, or will you find a new adventure? ~~Try not to open any hatches.~~

2: Tourist Trap Okay, you're all for seeing the sights, but World's Biggest Doorstopper? World's Smallest Chicken? World's Noisiest Whistle? Do we really have to stop here, too?

3: Car Trouble Maybe you got a flat tire. Maybe your engine's stalled. Or maybe you just overestimated how far you could get on a half tank of gas. Either way, you're broke down on the side of the road and the nearest station is miles away; better get behind it and push!

4: Bad Weather Driving in the rain? No problem. Driving in torrential downpours or a blinding blizzard? Big problem! Better find a way to get out of the storm fast!

5: When Ya Gotta Go... Didn't I tell you to go before we left? Well, even if you did, maybe you shouldn't have had that 44 ounce Super Big Gulp, because there's not another rest stop for miles. Maybe you can find an empty bottle in the back...

6: Road Delays Stuck in traffic? Stuck at road construction? Stuck in a funeral procession? Bridge out? Whatever it is, it's blocking your way. Do you wait patiently, or maybe find your own way around it.

7: Smokey and the Bandit Oh no, those blue lights behind you can't be good. Maybe you should just pull over and accept your speeding ticket like a decent citizen. Or, maybe you should floor it. High speed chase anyone?

8: Night Driving You decided to drive through the night, and now it's one AM and you're all out of coffee. Wake up a friend and make them help you stay awake; falling asleep at the wheel is dangerous!

9: Ghost Town Boy, this town sure is quiet. And... kind of creepy. Oh God, did something in those corn rows just move? I hear banjo music; CAN'T YOU DRIVE ANY FASTER?!

10: Roadkill Good going, you hit an animal. I sure hope you feel good about yourself. Now you've killed the poor- oh, it's still moving? What do we do now!?
10a: The I Know What You Did Last Summer Edition That animal you hit was a little more human than you care for... oh dear...

11: ROAD RAGE That jerk cut me off! How dare he!? I'll make him pay! Or maybe you cut off a less-than-friendly driver of your own, and now he's after you...

12: Carjacked Awww, that was a good lunch. ...Wait, I know this is where we parked... Dude, where's the car!?!?

13: Hitchhiking Who said you needed a car for a road trip? Stick that thumb out and catch a ride where you're going. Maybe you and a buddy are chillin' with the pigs in a trailer, or maybe that nice looking hitchhiker you picked up down the road is not as nice as you thought...

14: Fantasy Car Roads? Where you're going, you don't need roads. If you're in Doc's DeLorean, anyway. Or maybe the car is really Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Or a spy car. Or the Batmobile. Or a Transformer! Whatever it is, this car is NOT normal.

15: Are We There Yet? Roller's choice! Pick your favorite option, or two, or three, or just roll with whatever feels right!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Well, at least they lost them.

A sentiment that he'll probably appreciate a whole lot more when he isn't caked up past the ankles in thick, clotted mud, dug in with a shoulder pressed to the back of the (nearly worthless, why even bother) buggy. With ShinRa off their immediate backtrail (for the moment), though, they've all the time in the world to get unstuck, mired up deep in the same tangled strand of woodland that'd saved them the trouble. The first half of it, at least.

Letting up for just a second (even he's getting tired of this), Cloud huffs, dropping his arms (and turning to contemplate the series of dents his frustration has already put in the back bumper). ]

Try it again.

[ Not that all the off-road compatible tires and engine revving in the world seem to be helping them out of this swamp, yet. ]

[Sometimes she wonders why they even keep the buggy. It's much too small for them all to sleep in and its tendency to break down, bog down, or just generally not be as useful as it's supposed to be has a way of wearing even what she considers her own patient nerves down. If it wasn't for Barret's fear of water -

and Red's hate of getting his paws wet even and especially if the rest of him stayed dry...

and Yuffie's constantly stopping in the middle of streams to hunt for materia and hold them all up for hours...

and maybe... just maybe she and Aerith had this thing about leeches - but so would anyone else wearing a skirt they couldn't just tuck into their boots!

Anyway, they needed the buggy to get over those shallow rivers. For a team of terrorists and mercenaries and escaped science fair projects they could be a pretty picky lot in certain areas and free flowing water that wasn't coming out of a tap seemed to be the general agreement for most of them. Which also might be why most of the rest of the team had gone up ahead a ways to 'scout' for trouble.

Or maybe that was just the look on Cloud's face that had most of the team deciding to be elsewhere.]

Okay.

[So she was doing her level best to keep up a - if not exactly cheerful front anymore, at least a willing one - as she dutifully coaxed the gas petal down slowly so the whole thing wouldn't stall, muttering encouragingly under her breath as if the vehicle could actually hear her. Oversized tires spun, for a second simply churning already churned mud and then the buggy suddenly lurched forward with a roar, kicking up a fount of sticky mud from its back tires.

Only to to settle comfortably back into the mud again still a good car length away from solid ground.]

Edited (for want of a / a tag was lost) 2013-04-16 05:48 (UTC)

[ What they consider general consensus he considers a lot of pointless bellyaching, for the most part. Barret's concerns about rust are pretty legitimate, and nobody's got the patience to wait out Yuffie's unbearably optimistic obsession - but Red's probably fine as long as his tail doesn't go out, and Cloud can't count the number of times he's had to explain the natural habitat of leeches isn't everywhere.

Though the swamp they're in presently might've actually provided a solid ground for that argument, for once. If for nothing else.

By and large, Cloud doesn't mind the water. So long as he's not floating on it or swimming in it (not unless he has to), and there's nothing wearing a danger! high voltage warning sign waiting for him out there in it. ...And, yeah, maybe he doesn't necessarily like walking around with it squishing out of his boots' soles all day or getting his sword wet and having to spend the evening cleaning and drying to ward away rust.

But he's also pretty sure he doesn't complain about the simple act of fording the occasional river half as much as the rest of them do. Not even when he's the one who usually ends up pushing. And the river's more of a humid, insect-infested mud pit wearing the thinnest pretense of a grassland oasis on the outside. ]

C'mon-- [ He's pushing up so hard on the back bumper that when something finally gives, he can hardly believe it. Doesn't, in fact, even as the buggy jumps out of range and steals its solid (if halfway to useless) support right out from under him. The mud comes next.

First it swallows his arms up past the wrists, caking into his gloves and armor, heavy and clinging. That lasts about a second, and isn't so bad in comparison to the wave of wet, skunky molasses that the buggy kicks up over him once he's on the ground and vulnerable.

Over the back of the car, Cloud disappears, and a grotesque swamp monster replaces him, swearing as it staggers back toward the buggy (with murder clear in its gaze). ]

Damn it!

[Concentrating on getting as much out of the buggy's new found freedom as possible, Tifa's not exactly watching in the rear view but as the car settles again she does an automatic glance just in time to see the mud monster rising out of the muck. It's really pure instinct that has her reaching out and slapping the lock down on the door. A lock that, really, is pretty pointless considering the buggy doesn't have a roof. She can't even pretend, once she realizes what she's done that it was because she thought it really was a monster either. Oh no. No, there's really no mistaking those fire blue eyes even with a coating of sticky muck coating most of the rest of him. No more than there's any mistaking the utterly terrifying look in the Shinra born mako green that all but trails witch fire from those same eyes as he storms toward her. Anyone in their right mind would run and apologize for it later.

Tifa, eyes huge in her pale face, much to her own horror, instead finds herself pressing a fist to her lips and, for the first time since she was probably about five and entirely without her conscious mind's permission -

she giggles.]

[ He swipes the mud from his arms first, as he trudges up through what's left of the gap between him and the buggy, leaving behind large, pale swaths of skin and bandaging. An edge of leather, a glint of metal - and the latter dull in comparison to that blazing gaze. He's intent on the target, on the one thing he still has to do to put this miserable pit behind them, arming thick splatters of muck from his face and the heavy fringe of his bangs - until that sound stops him in his tracks.

He's already at the bumper again, hands raised before him, half obscured still by mud, and feeling about a thousand Slaps' share of Berserk, when he goes rigid just like that, all at once. The swamp fire brilliance of his eyes widens, briefly, before narrowing rapidly back down. One corner of his mouth drops, then, just a fraction, and he socks his bare shoulder into the bumper one more time. ]

Laugh it up.

[ His heels sink back into the mud when he pushes - shoves - the buggy again. But nowhere near as deep as before. The ground's firmer under him, now, and the whole car leaps forward another foot, whether or not she's prepared for it. ]

[She's not, on so many levels, ready for it and there's a cut off squeak of a sound, another unheard of noise coming from the polite bartender, as her dark head disappears with a jolt behind the rim of the seat for a second. The horn bleats a honk, sharp and cheerful. Luckily for Tifa's forehead however, she'd had to turn sideways to look at the approaching muck monster and it was only a shoulder and a semi-instictive raise of her arm against the wheel.

She hadn't meant to laugh! Really she hadn't. It was just - the nerves had bubbled up in her throat and somehow the sensible answer to that situation her body had decided was to giggle. The other problem is that, once started, it's hard for her to stop. She hasn't laughed in - she's not really sure how long it's been. Just that she doesn't laugh, not really, anymore. Hauling herself up in the seat again though, trying to twist around to at least sit properly, the sounds keep on bubbling to the surface, even with her lips pressed tightly together. She really does need to stop - and it's not even that funny. Really. She's sure it's not. Not at all.

The laughter comes out all the same, half choked in the back of her throat, and she honestly does hope he can't hear her over the sound of the idling engine, even if she doesn't really believe that for a second with his ridiculously good hearing. She does do her part at least, carefully easing down on the gas again, concentrating very, very hard on the view in front of her and not behind her, eyes narrowed, trying to stop the sounds that have at least strangled down to choppy, shaking exhales through her nose.

The buggy's wheels finally hit solid ground and it lurches ahead again, though this time, Tifa's more ready for it and has her foot off the gas almost immediately. Safe on the other 'shore', the vehicle's engine purrs along as if the triumph of crossing the mud hole had been a cake walk and done entirely without effort. Careful, Tifa sets the break and unlocks the driver's side door. Swinging it open, she swings her legs out and turns to look at the mud covered version of a man. Her hand stays firmly clamped over her mouth, covering her lips entirely and so it's only her eyes that give her away. Apologetic the way only her eyes could ever be.

And still, silently, laughing.]

[ No, there's not a chance he doesn't hear that laughter, even under the choppy churn of the buggy's barely-hanging-on engine.

And it needles at him, at first, over most of his pride - a sense that's always outgrown its place, in Cloud. Even as the sluggish car does as he's been urging it to for the past - who knows how long, who cares - there's an ugly, shady presence lying low at the back of his mind, tossing not so far under where it lies shallowly buried (deeply rooted). He doesn't have an easy history with being teased; half-remembered or whole, it's sometimes the funniest joke that bypasses his dry, truncated sense of humor entirely and hits those old wounds, instead. But he knows a bad habit when he feels one coming on, once in a while.

Maybe if the whole team was standing by to laugh at him, he would've clung to that sour-turning mood. But it isn't all of them - it's only Tifa. Tifa, who's probably only laughing so hard (she's trying to muffle it, but does it help? not that well) because she's as put-out and high-strung by this whole mess as he is. Because there's nothing else to do, once you reach that point, except suffer the slow bleed off of bad temper and spend the day wallowing in it, just as stuck in the mud - or just lose it, and let off the same steam all at once.

There's not a sound from him as the door slams shut behind her, where he's bent over the bumper again, practically hanging off the end of the buggy in the wake of so much shoving. There's no glare, either, with his mud-covered head bowed past the rise of that bright red paint job. He doesn't see her apology, though he must be angrier than ever, beneath the weight of his sword and all that painted-on muck. Because his shoulders are shaking, carrying a slight, inconstant tremor as he leans into the now solidly surfaced buggy, their questionable salvation from the minor inconveniences of shallow riverbeds.

Not a sound. ]

[It's when he doesn't raise his head to glare at her that she knows she's in trouble. Really big trouble because there's very little in this life that seems to stop Cloud from glaring anymore. She doesn't remember that part of him from their childhood but - there's a lot that's kind of vague and wistful about her memories of childhood. She's fairly sure she would have remembered so much glaring...

He's not glaring at the moment though, or at least not glaring at her and so she approaches the back of the buggy with some trepidation, laughter finally stifled even if she can feel it curling nervously around her throat again when he doesn't move from his hunched over position. He looks so bedraggled and so utterly misused as coating with muck as he is and it's part of what keeps her from just turning on her heel and heading back to the front of the buggy to give him some time to himself to cool down. The other thing that keeps her moving forward, one cautious step at a time, is the realization that he might have hurt himself, either by pulling a muscle - did SOLDIER even pull muscles or were their bodies beyond that? - or else when he'd fallen face first into the mud.

That image has the nervous laugh flickering back up and threatening again but she's nervous enough, and maybe just a little bit scared enough, that it doesn't manage to bubble out this time. She's - only really seen him mad twice now and she - she's not quite sure what to do with him when he gets that way. The rage in his eyes is - it's frightening when he gets that way. She's pretty sure the sensible thing to do is to leave him alone until he's got himself under control again - at least the rage never seems to last long - but -

what if he is hurt? And... it's really her fault he ended up in the mud. Not to mention she really shouldn't have laughed. That's what has her reaching out and lightly resting just the tips of her bare fingertips on his shoulder, wishing for a second she was Aerith instead and knew something teasing and flippant to say to make everything better. She's not however and all she can do on her own is duck her head a little more toward him and, fingers pressing, softly ask:]

Cloud?

[ There's a low whisper of sound in reply, short and oddly stuttered - if he's hurt, it must be something bad. Maybe he's been paralyzed by some other irritating little monster lurking in the thicket, fast and stinging like all the rest. Or maybe it's only Slow, and he's struggling to speak as whatever cast its sinking web over him slithers back into the underbrush. He leaves plenty of time to contemplate the possibilities, if not intentionally, between her approach - and when he lifts his head past the shield of his mud-caked forearm, at last.

Her momentary fear of catching that bright, feral rage in his eyes proves unfounded (they're closed), but the flash of teeth brings up the distinct impression of a grimace. At least until the second, louder soft chuff of a sound escapes him; it's deep and still painfully subdued, but there's no mistaking it, either.

He's laughing. At her, at the situation, at the mess he's made of himself - at the fleeting, passing hope of rain over the open top of the buggy to clear it away, and how utterly futile that one thought renders all the rest of this terrific struggle. It doesn't really matter, because he isn't so sure, himself.

And none of it does a damn thing to change the fact that he's filthy and not improving, still halfway up to his ankles in the mire and leaning on a vehicle he'd rather push over a cliff than drive another mile for support, laughing fit to split. And just as quietly and politely as she was trying to. ]

[All of those worries and a few more go through her head between the space of that first unfamiliar noise and the moment he lifts his head and she's already mentally racing through all the different cures and potions and mostly just excessive apologizing she may need for him in response. The second sound he makes has her freezing however. As unprepared as she'd felt for his anger - she's utterly lost at how to respond to... to his...

is he laughing?

For just a second her entire world seems to tilt on its side. She - doesn't think she's ever heard Cloud laugh before. Not - ever. Not even in childhood. He could have just burst into song and surprised her less. For just a moment, it's the only sound in the entire world, that half-stifled, almost silent, broken laughter. It's -

it's maybe the nicest sound she's ever heard.

But it's also the most confusing sound she's ever heard too and her brows pinch down in real worry over her crimson eyes.]

Cloud?

[Her fingers lift from his arm but it's to carefully push his mud dripping bangs back from his forehead, other hand reaching to gingerly wipe a glot of the muck away, checking for blood or swelling, because -]

Did you hit your head? Are you okay?

[ If he's never laughed in front of Tifa, he doesn't know it - not that he could remember half as far back as her, if he tried. But it's not something he thinks on often, or has ever considered he does so little it might really shock her. The last time he laughed like this was only as far back as Midgar, by his count. While standing on top of a mountain of rubble ten steps ahead of a flower girl whose pet plants he'd just crushed not half an hour earlier than that.

He'll have to set a new standard after her misguided attempt to diagnose him, though.

For a split second, it looks like he might actually answer - then he's reeling off into a full-blown gale of real laughter, no longer stopped up on any hint of propriety. Yeah, maybe he is losing it; he's been terrified of that for longer than they've been on this crazy, hellbound ride that's supposed to end in saving the whole Planet (but might stop dead any old time), though.

Once he's managed to draw in a breath that doesn't immediately stutter into another choked up start, he shakes his head, waving her and all that undue concern off as he straightens up. ] Y-Yeah. I'm fine.

[She stands there listening to the nicest sound in the world and while the confusion doesn't quite fade, the fact that he's okay lets her relax enough to simply enjoy the fact that Cloud Strife, master of glowers, is laughing. Really, honestly, laughing. She realizes that there might be just an edge of hysteria to it but she did the same thing just a minute ago and it had been a relief to get it all out. It had felt good and, now, listening to Cloud absolutely lose it in laughter... that feels even better. By the time he's calmed down enough to manage words, she has her back against the buggy so she's facing him, slightly bemused smile on her face, arms folded in front of her. There's still so much about him that doesn't make sense to her, that doesn't match up or that feels strange, so much of him she's still learning about and figuring out... but she thinks this was one of the nicest discoveries yet and she isn't about to do anything to ruin it. And, because it's just the two of them, and she knows whether either one of them will admit it or not that he lets her get away with a lot more than most, she puts her hands on her hips and teases, maybe, just a little.]

If I knew dumping you in the mud would cure your grumpy moods, I would have done it a long time ago.

[ Most of the sharp edge in his laughter - the one that's two steps from the edge and shuffling anxiously - has faded from his tone and his expression, by the time she responds. Or if it's still audible, there, the threat is out of it entirely, that black figure teetering on the razor thin wire of his sanity balancing out again to whatever in him passes for equilibrium. Balancing even better than before, maybe.

And that's probably why he doesn't let her get away with it, this time.

His response is immediate, the smooth arch of a brow and battle swift sweep of a hand over one mud-coated shoulder. He flicks the excess at her, deliberately aiming to miss. (But not by much.) ]

Don't even think about it.

[It wasn't until after she'd reacted that her mind kicked in and pointed out that if he'd wanted to hit her, he could have, and how, if she didn't know better, what Cloud had just done almost seemed... playful.

but that was after she'd already reacted.

A reaction that had been instinctive and automatic and involved a quick sweep of a gloved hand over the mud caked back of the buggy before the same motion had that same mud winging its way at him and she hadn't realized, until afterward, enough to aim to miss.

At least she'd aimed for his chest?

The sound that came on the tail end of that reaction was a choked off laugh despite herself.

She also wasn't stupid because even if she couldn't swallow the laughter back she could try to scoot around the back of the buggy, hands raised palms out as she tried to make her escape as fast as possible without turning her back. Unfortunately she failed utterly at looking stern. Her eyes were laughing too much.]

[ At least he was already covered in mud.

There wasn't really a lot of offense her minor addition could cause, a mere drop in the ocean of swamp gunk he was already wearing. Logically, anyway. In reality, the simple, unexpected retaliation had him shrugging back dramatically, going almost up onto his toes as he did - the faintest flare of widening blue behind mud-spattered blond preceding a barely there flash of white teeth, and his own knee-jerk response.

His hand was broader, and left behind a clean swath much bigger than hers across the rounded back end of the buggy. It probably wasn't the smartest idea to advance on a close-quarters combatant like Tifa - but if she was going to keep laughing like that, he was going to have to rethink his merciful approach as he followed her around behind the impromptu cover of the bumper's end.

This time, he didn't miss - even if he only caught a leg and the hem of her skirt in his significantly more lethal strike. It was very evidently on. ]

[His reaction - oh, he looked so very much like an insulted chocobo flaring his crest, Tifa could all but see his hair fluffing - didn't help and the laughter came again, somewhere between a hiccup and a snort as she slapped her clean glove over her mouth to try to hide it. The apology was on the tip of her tongue, just waiting for the laughter to stop, but before that could happen she caught that dangerous flash of white in his face and his advance. Her own eyes went absolutely huge in her face as she started to backpedal with a bit more earnestness and she held out her muddy hand by way of protest. Despite all the signs, she hadn't expected him to actually throw the mud at her however and the sound that shocked out of her when she actually felt the sludgy impact was luckily muffled behind her glove.

had he just...?! At her!

The quick narrowing down of her eyes was warning enough and really the only logical response to an assault of that kind. In her childhood, Tifa hadn't just been Snowball Throwing champ for nothing. There was no doubt at all that it was on and luckily the entire length of the buggy was caked with ammunition for her. If he wanted a mud ball fight on his hands, he had it. No one threw mud at Tifa Lockheart and got away with it.]

Cloud Strife!

[It only took seconds from the time the mud hit and slid down her leg to the return flurry of mudballs in Cloud's direction, Tifa skipping backward to stay out of arms range. Mudman or not, he was going down!]

[ He knew, instinctively, that there was nothing really dangerous heading his way. (Except for maybe whatever monster they'd already attracted with all this noise - but he wasn't very worried about that possibility, at the moment, either.) And yet, the second she uttered his full name in that positively livid tone of voice, a guilty shock struck him off-guard, halted his step as he gave slow-motion chase and made him rethink his lack of caution. It was like getting caught coming in well after curfew, or called out for sneaking sweets before dinner. That essential childhood wrong that should've always precipitated an immediate and offended announcement of the perpetrator's full name. The kind of thing better remembered by sense than true memory.

So it made sense that her first few volleys were bullseyes, given that he was far too busy struggling with the sudden urge to apologize awkwardly and back off to expect any further mud assault.

If they hadn't been, though, probably the rest of the day's trouble could have been avoided.

Another thing he knew without needing to think it was that there was no way in the world he could hold up a fight against Tifa's marksmanship. His own ability to accurately hurl wads of anything wasn't quite up to snuff, and even the defensive line was cut short by how difficult it was to block something as substantially insubstantial as wet earth. The best he could do was deflect the spatter to the rest of himself, away from what little of his face remained clean, as he settled on a plan of action. One that didn't involve diving behind the buggy and begging for mercy. (And forgiveness.)

Granted, diving at her probably wasn't going to win him any awards for best strategy, either - but there were precious few other options. Watching her nail the other kids with solidly-packed balls of snow hadn't completely vacated the lucid sphere of his fractured memories, after all. He had nothing to lose. (And nothing to gain, but priorities were an unwieldy behemoth on the mind.) ]

Edited (i accidentally a word) 2013-05-05 10:43 (UTC)

[There was, somewhere in the far back of her mind where current thought wasn't allowed, a part of her that recognized how childish all of this was and - if it had been allowed as a cognizant thought, it was quite possible that she would have decided that maybe that was a good thing for both of them. At the moment, however, she was too busy slinging mud, literally, to concentrate on things like stunted psychology and repression techniques.

She saw the intent in his eyes and in the shift of his chest before he even moved, battle reflexes kicking in even as her eyes widened in utter alarm. Out of the mud pit, they still weren't entirely on dry ground and her spur of the moment jerk backward in retreat had the sole of her boot losing sudden traction and slipping out from under her in the muck halfway through his launch. What he found in response, instead of an attempted dodge, were a pair of muddy hands grabbing desperately for him and something that sounded suspiciously like a quietly girly yelp of surprise.

Gravity took care of the rest.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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Tifa Lockheart/Final Fantasy VII

every number you know how this works

roger roger

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inappropriate icon use FTW!

hdu insinuate that i can't handle boobs

hey, Tifa's a... handful, okay? That's all I'm sayin!

you never know i could have freakishly gigantic hands

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