JASON TODD :: ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴏᴅ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hashtagyolt) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-11-19 12:37 am
hashtagyolt) wrote in thecapitol2014-11-19 12:37 am
Entry tags:
you're not the prettiest girl in town ( open! )
Who| Jason Toad and whoever!
What| Two prompts. See below.
Where| Tribute Center.
When| Midday and midnight.
WARNINGS| Social media addiction, language possibly. Idk I'll edit as needed.
1 ) District 4 Suites ; Midnight-4am, Monday Night.
As curfew had been enforced that evening, Jason had gone quietly. His plan demanded the appearance of at least minimal cooperation. Earlier in the day, he'd procured a disc of the most annoying music Panem had to offer. Moreover, he'd planned ahead. He'd begged and pleaded his Escort for what amounted to a very fancy boom box, and bless his heart, the poor man had come through.
He retired early, totting a book with him. It was some bodice-ripper-esque romance, trashy but entertaining in a guilty pleasure sort of way. He'd napped in between reading chapters, occasionally curbing his enthusiasm to run out into the common area of the suite and share, with some wholly unsuspecting suite mate, an amusing moment or anecdote. Romance novels, not enough people appreciated them. It was truly a tragedy.
Eventually, however, midnight rolled around, and the hour to act was upon him. As he cued up the song, he couldn't help the smirk that crept across his face. It wasn't as if he was breaking rules, technically, and Panem's definitions of offensive nuisance left something to be desired anyway.
The song repeated once. He settled back on his bed with the book, popping in some cheap rubber earplugs.
The song repeated again. The only downside to this was, while the earplugs made it bearable, there was no way to avoid the music completely. He'd be whistling it for days. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.
The third repeat was mildly annoying, but by the fourth, he found himself tuning it out. It was like he had developed an immunity.
By the fifth, he was snoozing again, the bodice-ripper abandoned haphazardly, cast off the side of the bed.
((ooc: Okay, so Swagger Jagger will be blasting solidly from 12am-4am. It's audible (at various levels) on the entirety of the 4th floor. It will also be audible (annoyingly, but not overpoweringly) on floors 3 and 5. Feel free to be pissed at him. That was the point. Anyone in D4 is welcome to bang on his door and try and make him knock it off.))
2 ) Training Center ; the next day.
Jason Peter Todd is no slouch. Even if he hadn't been trained by the goddamn Batman, he's still a ninja, (goddammit,) and it shows. He goes through some basic yuddha kalā with a precision unmatched by most. The few mistakes he makes, he trots off quite nimbly, no matter how dramatic they seem. Either he's tougher stuff than the boy band hair would lead you to believe, or he's your typical 20-year old alpha male who can't stand the idea of being embarrassed in public. Maybe a little of both. Probably mostly both.
In any case, he finishes his second routine with a flourish. Even if he weren't a bit of an exhibitionist (anyone who willingly runs around in green tights at the age of 14 probably has that ingrained in them), Jason has a mind to game the system a bit. It looks good to be good. It, at the risk of quoting Kanye, gets the people going. He remembers going through an Arena with no sponsor support. It needs the people going.
What| Two prompts. See below.
Where| Tribute Center.
When| Midday and midnight.
WARNINGS| Social media addiction, language possibly. Idk I'll edit as needed.
1 ) District 4 Suites ; Midnight-4am, Monday Night.
As curfew had been enforced that evening, Jason had gone quietly. His plan demanded the appearance of at least minimal cooperation. Earlier in the day, he'd procured a disc of the most annoying music Panem had to offer. Moreover, he'd planned ahead. He'd begged and pleaded his Escort for what amounted to a very fancy boom box, and bless his heart, the poor man had come through.
He retired early, totting a book with him. It was some bodice-ripper-esque romance, trashy but entertaining in a guilty pleasure sort of way. He'd napped in between reading chapters, occasionally curbing his enthusiasm to run out into the common area of the suite and share, with some wholly unsuspecting suite mate, an amusing moment or anecdote. Romance novels, not enough people appreciated them. It was truly a tragedy.
Eventually, however, midnight rolled around, and the hour to act was upon him. As he cued up the song, he couldn't help the smirk that crept across his face. It wasn't as if he was breaking rules, technically, and Panem's definitions of offensive nuisance left something to be desired anyway.
The song repeated once. He settled back on his bed with the book, popping in some cheap rubber earplugs.
The song repeated again. The only downside to this was, while the earplugs made it bearable, there was no way to avoid the music completely. He'd be whistling it for days. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.
The third repeat was mildly annoying, but by the fourth, he found himself tuning it out. It was like he had developed an immunity.
By the fifth, he was snoozing again, the bodice-ripper abandoned haphazardly, cast off the side of the bed.
((ooc: Okay, so Swagger Jagger will be blasting solidly from 12am-4am. It's audible (at various levels) on the entirety of the 4th floor. It will also be audible (annoyingly, but not overpoweringly) on floors 3 and 5. Feel free to be pissed at him. That was the point. Anyone in D4 is welcome to bang on his door and try and make him knock it off.))
2 ) Training Center ; the next day.
Jason Peter Todd is no slouch. Even if he hadn't been trained by the goddamn Batman, he's still a ninja, (goddammit,) and it shows. He goes through some basic yuddha kalā with a precision unmatched by most. The few mistakes he makes, he trots off quite nimbly, no matter how dramatic they seem. Either he's tougher stuff than the boy band hair would lead you to believe, or he's your typical 20-year old alpha male who can't stand the idea of being embarrassed in public. Maybe a little of both. Probably mostly both.
In any case, he finishes his second routine with a flourish. Even if he weren't a bit of an exhibitionist (anyone who willingly runs around in green tights at the age of 14 probably has that ingrained in them), Jason has a mind to game the system a bit. It looks good to be good. It, at the risk of quoting Kanye, gets the people going. He remembers going through an Arena with no sponsor support. It needs the people going.
no subject
She hit with a decent amount of force, too. Not enough to jostle him. Not really, anyway.
Nevertheless, Jason fell backward. Not hard, but with a dramatic flair and the appropriate sound disgruntled sound effect. From the angle, she would have had to catch herself quickly to avoid a somewhat compromising position. "Not bad for someone who looks like the sugar plum fairy. I like your style."
Not to be give her the entirely wrong impression, he used his greater strength and flipped them. Now it was a little compromising. "Your move."
no subject
"And you're not bad for someone who looks like a... erm..." She paused, black eyes blinking slowly. "Oh who am I kidding? You got me."
She didn't make any move to break free however. Instead, her eyes narrowed a bit as she studied his now very close face. "I'm sure you must get this quite often, but you're really very good looking, you know."