They're all so happy now that I've done wrong, I'm surprised they don't come up and thank me.
Who: Misato Katsuragi (youcandielater ) and YOU. (But no special appearances by Tyler Durden, sadly.)
When: July 16th, after Sirens.
Where: Knot-a-Fight Club
Summary: Misato's been in a bad way, so she finds an alternative route to her usual coping mechanisms.
Warnings: Violence, language, probably various unpleasant things.
Notes: Although the log starter is prose, feel free to respond with actionspam.
She hated it.
Being a good girl, smiling sweetly and waving goodbye to Yako every time she left the house and acting like a good little guard dog every time she got called into a job. Freelance security guard where she once had stripes on her jacket- she'd torn them off and pocketed them shortly after she got here. Her military rank meant nothing here. If Bigby was any indication, there would've been no problem with her getting a job with the police, but they were too structured and she'd be expected to follow their protocols and tactics, her creativity in battle shoved to the side in favor of regulations.
Battle. Like there were any wars to fight. She ought to have been grateful for that much. She could live however she wanted without worrying about fronting, about acting like the military major and not the slob. But it was such a part of her, the illusion. It seemed cheap to just let it fade into the woodwork, while letting the slob, the drunk, the woman who took advantage of men become the reality.
Not that that was the true herself either. There were so many facets to her, so many variations that keeping them straight was a chore. It was easier back home. They were so easily shelved and labeled and it was nothing to slip one identity off and put another on like a change of clothes. Here, she was unknown, a fun-loving girl with a fondness for defending the weak, and a certain amount of battlelust she couldn't shake after being dragged from home during such a trying time.
God, she fucking hated it. She could have started over, but it was too much work and it would just be the same- you'll never let anyone close enough to see the real you, so why bother wasting your time. All she could hope for was that even if she continued to make the same damn mistakes, she would learn about herself and somehow, she could work from that. Maybe.
Once she slept with men to ease the ache in her heart and the loneliness in her bed, but her talk with Sam had terrified her. She passed xxAfterglowxx and cringed, the thought of it making her sick. It was hard for sex to be a coping mechanism when so many people were using it the same way, in much more perverted and twisted ways than she ever had.
There were other ways to dirty herself, though. Once she'd been a war hero, now she'd just take everything she ever learned to fight legitimate wars and use it to garner herself attention, which was why she found herself at Knot-a-Fight Club, wrapping tape around her knuckles on a bench and waiting for her name to be called. Later, she'll be out in the middle of a ring, fighting for nothing but her own dishonor and fighting like her life depended on being sullied and ruined. And later still, she'll be leaving with a bit of a limp and covered in bruises.
And it won't be the same. The eyes of almost every man she'll pass will hold a sense of desire and she'll long to give in.
She's so sick of being strong and holding out... She might even give in.
When: July 16th, after Sirens.
Where: Knot-a-Fight Club
Summary: Misato's been in a bad way, so she finds an alternative route to her usual coping mechanisms.
Warnings: Violence, language, probably various unpleasant things.
Notes: Although the log starter is prose, feel free to respond with actionspam.
She hated it.
Being a good girl, smiling sweetly and waving goodbye to Yako every time she left the house and acting like a good little guard dog every time she got called into a job. Freelance security guard where she once had stripes on her jacket- she'd torn them off and pocketed them shortly after she got here. Her military rank meant nothing here. If Bigby was any indication, there would've been no problem with her getting a job with the police, but they were too structured and she'd be expected to follow their protocols and tactics, her creativity in battle shoved to the side in favor of regulations.
Battle. Like there were any wars to fight. She ought to have been grateful for that much. She could live however she wanted without worrying about fronting, about acting like the military major and not the slob. But it was such a part of her, the illusion. It seemed cheap to just let it fade into the woodwork, while letting the slob, the drunk, the woman who took advantage of men become the reality.
Not that that was the true herself either. There were so many facets to her, so many variations that keeping them straight was a chore. It was easier back home. They were so easily shelved and labeled and it was nothing to slip one identity off and put another on like a change of clothes. Here, she was unknown, a fun-loving girl with a fondness for defending the weak, and a certain amount of battlelust she couldn't shake after being dragged from home during such a trying time.
God, she fucking hated it. She could have started over, but it was too much work and it would just be the same- you'll never let anyone close enough to see the real you, so why bother wasting your time. All she could hope for was that even if she continued to make the same damn mistakes, she would learn about herself and somehow, she could work from that. Maybe.
Once she slept with men to ease the ache in her heart and the loneliness in her bed, but her talk with Sam had terrified her. She passed xxAfterglowxx and cringed, the thought of it making her sick. It was hard for sex to be a coping mechanism when so many people were using it the same way, in much more perverted and twisted ways than she ever had.
There were other ways to dirty herself, though. Once she'd been a war hero, now she'd just take everything she ever learned to fight legitimate wars and use it to garner herself attention, which was why she found herself at Knot-a-Fight Club, wrapping tape around her knuckles on a bench and waiting for her name to be called. Later, she'll be out in the middle of a ring, fighting for nothing but her own dishonor and fighting like her life depended on being sullied and ruined. And later still, she'll be leaving with a bit of a limp and covered in bruises.
And it won't be the same. The eyes of almost every man she'll pass will hold a sense of desire and she'll long to give in.
She's so sick of being strong and holding out... She might even give in.