raspberryturk: (Faceplanted owie)
Okay. So the fight against the centaur yesterday had been fun.

The fight against Hades today had been... less fun.

But they'd pulled people out of Hell-Or-Whatever-It-Was, and the day was saved. Or something of the sort.

Clearly, the best way for Reno to celebrate this was to bang his forehead against the door, down one ponytail and up one Rikku.

He'd get around to actually opening his door eventually. Just as soon as he felt up to pretending that his hands weren't too charred to dig the key from his pocket.

[For the modded-with-permission girlfriend!]
raspberryturk: (Back)
Reno was not hiding his his dorm room.

Far from it. He was up and doing paperwork. Turk paperwork. Paperwork was important, and had been a huge freaking chunk of his life for the past week, and he was going to get it done and over with if it killed him.

He hadn't been hiding in his room at all today.

Not even if there had been giant space-rocks in flying class.

Reno of the Turks did not hide.

It didn't mean he was hiding if he was doing his stupid paperwork while sitting on the stupid floor under his stupid desk. Shut up. Just shut up.

[Open if you're up this late for whatever reason. Mostly, I just wanted to post something to prove I'm still alive after the move. Hi!]
raspberryturk: (Action Figure)
It had been A Day. A week. A whole weekend and Reno, who was still both puny and plastic, was in need of a drink.

He wasn't in a bad enough way that he was going to go to the bar. There were certain things that action figures shouldn't do in public. Sure, he could go to The Perk to give computer lessons and he could scar his friends for life, but the bar? Even if he was hurting for a drink and a smoke and a hell of a lot of escapism, he wasn't going to head to the bar. Besides, he had his own booze. It was simply a matter of getting into it. Easy as pie.

Or, it should have been, except the bottle toppled over as he was attempting to pry the cap off, and it took him with it. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor, face down in spilled scotch, and his body was a good four inches away from his head.

Oh, good. Not only was he an action figure, but he was an action figure with a freaking faulty balljoint for a neck.

This would have been less problematic if his body wasn't more interested in saving the booze than it was in solving the fact that it was slightly decapitated at the moment.

"No, stupid, I'm over here."

It was going to continue being A Day.

[Open! And I swear, he'll be normal again tomorrow. I just had to. My own Reno action figure's head falls off on a regular basis. Pretty, yes. Lots of points of articulation? For sure. But clearly not made to do much looking around, poor thing.]
raspberryturk: (OOC - PONIES)
When Reno woke up on Saturday morning, he noticed four things.

First, that the alcove was very, very large around him.

Second, that he was made of plastic.

Third, that he was still desperate for a smoke, despite the fact that he was an action figure, and the nicotine gum he'd handwavily picked up was now the same size as his face.

And fourth, that there seemed to be a good deal of whinnying going on throughout the campgrounds.

Therefore, Reno made the executive decision to stay in bed.

"I hate this freakin' island," he mumbled as he crawled under his pillow.

[I couldn't resist, if only for the chance to use this OOC icon of mine IC. Reno's an action figure, and probably will be for a couple of days, but if you want to harass him now, bear in mind that I work tonight, and we're looking at crazy slowplay for the day.]
raspberryturk: (Grumpypants)
Reno was pacing, casually, back and forth in front of the captive that he had duct taped to a tree that he, himself, had made painful acquaintance to a month and a half before.

His Electromag-Rod was resting on his shoulder, and every now and again, he'd give it a very casual sort of tap. Letting his prisoner know that he meant business.

"You ain't been very cooperative with me this week," he spat, then took a mouthful from the bottle of Everclear that was in the hand not currently holding a stun weapon. "I tell you to do your job, and you don't want to, yo. You're supposed to work, when I want you to work. And instead you sit there, like you got some kinda right to it, and you know what? That just don't sit right with me. You understand?"

The rod got another tap on his shoulder. He took another mouthful of the booze, and he turned to face his duct taped captive, pointing his weapon dangerously, sneering.

"I think you're laughin' at me inside. You laughin' at me on the inside?"

No answer.

'No answer' was a bad answer.

The poor, totally demolished laptop learned the meaning of pain, right there. A thorough beating by a drunken Turk with an electrified stick. That would sure teach it a lesson.


[Open if you have some reason to be out in the middle of nowhere in the woods in the dead of night. But otherwise, Reno's content to drunkenly brutalize the hardware in peace.]
raspberryturk: (ShinRa Logo)
Tseng sighed. It was good to know Reno hadn't lost his flair for the dramatic.

He lifted his phone.

Cut for phone call and Reno's colorful misuse of the English language. )

[[[livejournal.com profile] the_merriest is still the Tseng of awesome, post is open for interaction after the phone call, if anyone is up this ridiculously late at night, and we're totally being a pair of nerds.]]
raspberryturk: (Default)
Reno was in a mood. But it wasn't as bad a mood as the one he'd been in on Tuesday when he did his broadcast. A few conversations had, at the very least, helped him get his head on straight again, and he'd picked up a replacement for his duct-taped mess of a laptop at T&C earlier, so he was good to go.

In a mood, but good to go.

He cracked his knuckles, loaded his e-mail up, and started to type his report.

Oh, Tseng was going to LOVE this. )

Reno was not the greatest typist in the world, but he was sure that his report got the message across pretty clearly.

[The door's closed, but the post is open if anyone has a burning need to stop in to prod Reno.]
raspberryturk: (Dusting himself off)
He really didn't want to go up to the roof, earlier, to gather up his jacket again. But he did. Had to see.

It was cold when he pulled it back on. Hadn't even been particularly cold out last night. Funny how that worked.

Didn't go too well with the usual Wednesday-morning hangover.

And damn, had he sent out a crapload of fruit baskets. Hopefully they would all get lost in delivery, as he had sent them out while he was pretty damn inebriated, or else the maybe-majority of the population of the island hadn't made the connection between microphone feedback and why they were getting them. Not that Reno cared. Reno was back in his room now, busying himself trying to fit the pieces of his laptop back together. He had a... report to write. By Friday.

This thrilled him to no end. Obviously.

His door was actually open a bit, today. Maybe to let out some of the cold that wasn't really in the air.

[Open for anyone who would like to drop by and rant about fruit baskets, or anything of the sort-- just keep in mind, I've got an hour before I have to leave for work, and then my availability is gone until later this evening.]
raspberryturk: (Looking downward)
"Permission to crawl under the bed and die, sir?" Phone calls. Phone calls were the worst idea that every freaking universe out there could possibly have come up with. Phone calls were going to be the death of Reno, one of these days. This phone call felt like it had the potential. Freaking phone calls.

Cut for Length, Coarse Language, and because the conversation goes perhaps disturbingly dark. )

[Preplayed with the astounding [livejournal.com profile] the_merriest, who continues to be an awesome Tseng. Similarly, the post is open only to the non-Tseng version of the same, if you please.]
raspberryturk: (And?)
Reno was looking at the dirty postcard that he had received from Romeo with about as much admiration as agitation.

On one hand, Romeo had pretty sweet taste in women.

On the other hand, the hundred-and-something year old postcard was... a hundred and something years old. Which was going to be problematic, so far as writing Romeo back to thank him for the vintage porn was concerned.

"Say tray jolly yes," Reno decided, butchering the French language as he stood the postcard on his dresser and stepped back to appreciate it. "And so help me, dammit, I'm gonna tell you that to your face, yoto."

[Door's shut, but the post is open like openly open things. Calling all girlfriends, yo.]
raspberryturk: (The Rage!)
Right. Typing up that stupid report for Tseng. Boring, stupid, somewhat distracted report. Things were Not Right On the Island of Fandom. Rikku was worried, and her worry made Reno... uneasy. And Radio had been... off. So Reno's report was far more detached than usual.

Somewhere around halfway through, he heard the announcement.

So his report... )

His laptop threw off a couple sparks from where it sat on the floor across the room.

He sighed, pulled out his phone, and sent a text to Rude. Will be needing new Laptop.

He was going to have to find Rikku.

[Door is closed. Am heading for work shortly, but the post is open if you don't mind insane freaking slowplay that will not be replied to until later tonight.]
raspberryturk: (???)
Right. So. Reno's brain was not allowing him to function in a straight line today. Too much going on up there regarding a certain girl and a certain argument and then a certain sort of resolution and what the hell, did this mean he had a girlfriend? It did. Didn't it? It probably did.

... He had totally no freaking clue what he was doing, here.

Which meant it was time to bust out the laptop and fire off an e-mail to Rude. Because Rude would just know. He was an ass, but he wasn't... usually stupid. Or whatever. Right?

And so, Reno typed! )

... One of these days, Reno was going to read what he had written before hitting send.

In the meantime, he could always hope Rude would assume he was drunk.

[Door's closed, post is open for slowplay because woo, evening jobs are awesome. I just had to poke at the crack-of-the-day while I still had a chance. Hooray, Babel Fish translations to Italian and back!]
raspberryturk: (Cocky)
Reno was in a much better mood when he woke up on Tuesday morning. Apparently, sparring with Faith had done wonders for him.

There really wasn't anything like bleeding to improve a nasty grouchy funk, he figured.

And, he was pleased to note, his shoes (which he had cut the tongues out of in a most sadistic manner and would have to replace), were no longer whimpering pathetically. It was a good day all around. And really, only one thing would make it better.

He would obviously have to vocalize that one thing. )

When the song had ended, to a chorus of invisible singers going 'la lala' to the trumpets, Reno just stood there for a moment, looking confused.

...

At least the shoes weren't mouthing off?

[Open-ish, though Tuesdays are the day of omg bad availability, as per the norm. My apologies go to Cake. It had to be done.]
raspberryturk: (Ow.)
Reno was sleeping, dammit.

He didn't have classes today, he'd spent his entire break on the road and drunk, his behind still hurt from a certain drunken tattoo fiasco, he was going to sleep in.

Cut for small novel of shoe!crack. )

A high-speed chase of comedic proportions, one toppled lamp and a bruised knee later, and Reno was triumphantly shoving the pair of shoes into separate drawers in his dresser, a wadded-up pair of dirty socks stuffed into the 'mouth' of each one.

He wasn't drunk enough for this, dammit.

[Door is closed, post is open if anyone wants to investigate the sounds of rage and chaos from within.]
raspberryturk: (Smoking)
Reno was beginning to wonder if perhaps Tseng would take his suggestion to extend his report deadlines to Tuesdays more seriously, given that weekends tended to be... strange.

This week's report to the boss consisted of offhand references to trees, duct tape, and a missing cell phone, a casual mention of talking frogs and chocolate milk, insisting that his new room was just great, plus a very adamant assertion that it had been exactly a week since he had sent that last report, so he was still, technically, on time.

And also, he'd be needing more dress shirts and a large supply of hi-potions. No reason.

[Just the typical "Reno types an e-mail woo" post. The door's closed, but the post is open-- if you don't mind that I'm not going to be here for most of the rest of the day, and slowplay's still good with you.]
raspberryturk: (So.)
It had been not only that kind of day, but that kind of week. Month. Something. Reno was going to have to make his supply-run into town a quick one, today, as he was fairly certain he was going to be in need of booze after the inevitable conversation with Rikku that they had arranged earlier.

The sober conversation. Where she met him in his room and they figured out what the hell kind of crack they were both on, and then she would leave and he'd binge on whatever the hell the flavor of the day was after his liquor run. He had a little time before that.

He was stalling.

[NFB! For one person in particular.]
raspberryturk: (Blue!)
Okay. So Reno's report back to Tseng was now four or so days late. Reno was also blue. Now that he was too freaked out to show his face in public, it would be a great time to hole himself up in his room, bite the bullet, and type the stupid thing out.

Nearly the instant that he had hit send, he had received a reply.

So he opened it! )

Needless to say, he was on his feet and out the door, blue face and all, very quickly.


[NFI, for this is establishy goodness, la la la.]
raspberryturk: (Come again?)
Having just sent a handwavey e-mail to Tseng that began with the words, "I swear I'm not freakin' drunk, but bear with me," Reno felt it was safe to finally poke through the e-mails that he'd been ignoring all weekend while typing up that stupid report.

He ran through the typical gamut of "junk, junk, spam, junk with spam filling, junk, Host Club invite, junk" before backtracking, clicking on the invite, and looking it over with his mouth agape before turning around and raising an eyebrow at his roomie.

"Tamaki?"

[[Intended for the roomie, who is modded into the room with his mun's permission, but open to anyone, provided you don't mind wonky availability because of Tamaki company.]]
raspberryturk: (Cell Phone)
So Reno's phone was ringing. A lot. )

[Establishy, but open for all your Reno needs? Preplayed with [livejournal.com profile] sarcasm_guy, who is awesome, coded by [livejournal.com profile] the_merriest, who is awesome and was very bored.]
raspberryturk: (Ow.)
Reno did not want to wake up. Reno was wide awake, laying there in his bed, his face shoved as far into his pillow as he could manage without asphyxiating himself, but this did not yet mean that he had actually woken up.

Between stealing his own wallet, making large areas spontaneously combust in a psychopathic rage, and having casual conversation with a lion over the course of the weekend, he figured that it was well within his rights to not have to wake up just yet.

Also, his hair had been huge. And he'd drank all his own tequila. And waking up meant that he'd have to start on his overdue report to Tseng. And any such report, after this particular sort of weekend, was going to have to begin with, "No, really, boss. I'm not drunk, but..."

Reno hated this place all over again.

[[Open!]]

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Reno of the Turks

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