Wolfie Black
Meteorite
- Joined
- Dec 23, 2015
(This is a romance rp! There could be sex involved...who am I kidding I love sex and it needs to be in here somewhere. XD Either way the premise of this ERP or RP is how the two characters react to the Old Jukebox suddenly working when they camp out for the night in an old dinner.
I shall be playing the part of Butch Deloira so if any ladies would like to help me write and perhaps post this RP as a full length story I'd be willing to give credit where credit is due.
I thought this would be a fun change for me instead of just writing with my F!LW. I've never written on a forum like this before, but if you want to PM me your response here's the opening lines I am posting publicly.
I hope I make a great Tunnel Snake!
)
A month could go by before you could even blink. Sure as fuck felt like he'd only known her for that month. He'd gotten closer with her walking in The Wastes for a month than they'd been their whole lives down in 101. Felt like he'd really met her for the first time when she'd come waltzing back in the vault door that 2nd time though. All covered in dirt and looking like a soldier.
Now though?
Turns out you could learn a hell of a lot more about someone in one month of actually talking to 'em instead of acting like an asshole for even longer. Felt like she had changed, but maybe she'd always been this kind of person. Maybe he just hadn't really noticed. Maybe he regretted that.
The Capitol Wasteland had sure changed his look on life.
Maybe it was just the dust he'd breathed in fogging up his head.
He chewed his favorite bubblegum happily while he leaned lazily against this old abandoned diner's wall. He figured that's what the grill behind the bar had been for. The place looked like something he'd seen a few times out of a pre-war magazine. Only torn up beyond repair.
He was waiting for her to come back into the place after heading outside to check to make sure that they were safe here for the night. Today had been less shitty than he'd expected.
He felt the flavor dying on his tongue. Atomic Red had helped him quit smoking, but fuck if it didn't lose its taste quicker than he'd have liked. He growled and settled into the drywall with relaxed defeat.
His leather made him feel more comfy against the dingy wall as he slid one of his hands out of his jeans to stick his gum behind the old jukebox to his right. He sighed missing his new bad habit already. It'd been his last stick of gum.
He looked down at his boots. The black combat boots he'd picked up off a caravan before he'd met her made him think of what it'd been like to walk in them that first day.
His off white t-shirt had dirt and dust stains now, but the boots had always looked shitty. He felt that walking in the desert with her was better than walking alone. A lot better. He was glad he'd bought her that drink. She was fun to be around. Even if she was a Pipsqueak.
His eyes scanned the place from floor to ceiling. The tile was caked with dirt and coming up in places, the walls had peeling wallpaper and large sections of nothing, but cracked drywall and don't get him started on the unknown stains on the ceiling. The place was a mess. It wasn't as bad it could have been though. At least all the windows had been boarded up to make it defensible.
Turning his eyes back on the jukebox he thought it was actually pretty bad ass.
If it still worked.
He absentmindedly thought that the dinner looked like it was shaped to be totally almost completely square. The tiles were square. Both the ones on the floor and the ceiling. So was his empty pack of gum. He was about to start counting the tiles on the ceiling if she didn't get her ass back in here.
His bones ached and he was tired of walking all day. He might just go out there and drag her happy ass back in so they could finally set up camp. Till he made up his mind though he'd wait.
He hoped she'd come back in soon.
I shall be playing the part of Butch Deloira so if any ladies would like to help me write and perhaps post this RP as a full length story I'd be willing to give credit where credit is due.
I thought this would be a fun change for me instead of just writing with my F!LW. I've never written on a forum like this before, but if you want to PM me your response here's the opening lines I am posting publicly.
I hope I make a great Tunnel Snake!
)Jukebox Lover
A month could go by before you could even blink. Sure as fuck felt like he'd only known her for that month. He'd gotten closer with her walking in The Wastes for a month than they'd been their whole lives down in 101. Felt like he'd really met her for the first time when she'd come waltzing back in the vault door that 2nd time though. All covered in dirt and looking like a soldier.
Now though?
Turns out you could learn a hell of a lot more about someone in one month of actually talking to 'em instead of acting like an asshole for even longer. Felt like she had changed, but maybe she'd always been this kind of person. Maybe he just hadn't really noticed. Maybe he regretted that.
The Capitol Wasteland had sure changed his look on life.
Maybe it was just the dust he'd breathed in fogging up his head.
He chewed his favorite bubblegum happily while he leaned lazily against this old abandoned diner's wall. He figured that's what the grill behind the bar had been for. The place looked like something he'd seen a few times out of a pre-war magazine. Only torn up beyond repair.
He was waiting for her to come back into the place after heading outside to check to make sure that they were safe here for the night. Today had been less shitty than he'd expected.
He felt the flavor dying on his tongue. Atomic Red had helped him quit smoking, but fuck if it didn't lose its taste quicker than he'd have liked. He growled and settled into the drywall with relaxed defeat.
His leather made him feel more comfy against the dingy wall as he slid one of his hands out of his jeans to stick his gum behind the old jukebox to his right. He sighed missing his new bad habit already. It'd been his last stick of gum.
He looked down at his boots. The black combat boots he'd picked up off a caravan before he'd met her made him think of what it'd been like to walk in them that first day.
His off white t-shirt had dirt and dust stains now, but the boots had always looked shitty. He felt that walking in the desert with her was better than walking alone. A lot better. He was glad he'd bought her that drink. She was fun to be around. Even if she was a Pipsqueak.
His eyes scanned the place from floor to ceiling. The tile was caked with dirt and coming up in places, the walls had peeling wallpaper and large sections of nothing, but cracked drywall and don't get him started on the unknown stains on the ceiling. The place was a mess. It wasn't as bad it could have been though. At least all the windows had been boarded up to make it defensible.
Turning his eyes back on the jukebox he thought it was actually pretty bad ass.
If it still worked.
He absentmindedly thought that the dinner looked like it was shaped to be totally almost completely square. The tiles were square. Both the ones on the floor and the ceiling. So was his empty pack of gum. He was about to start counting the tiles on the ceiling if she didn't get her ass back in here.
His bones ached and he was tired of walking all day. He might just go out there and drag her happy ass back in so they could finally set up camp. Till he made up his mind though he'd wait.
He hoped she'd come back in soon.