#*ooc answers

[eruditeobserver]

twin verse where miriel has two kids named laurent and larry

lkjdflsk larry 

but his whole name is lawrence and always tries to remind every one but no one ever does it

real talk tho we had a miriel/vaike fanchild who was laurent’s younger sister that beat him up on a daily basis

[eruditeobserver]

who don't u ship him with

brady, maybe owain, and f!morgan

[eruditeobserver]

M!A: Just shut up! - with Vaike's voice

Just Shut Up!:Muse hears voices in their head. Anon can pick whose voice it is.

::ooc// you diabolical fiend, give me a time frame and we're good

[eruditeobserver]

Why I followed your Laurent? Well.. I already knew you were awesome from Henry, so to support a dear friend, yes. Especially when it was a fellow second gen account, and Laurent on top of that! Laurents are rare as heck after all. You are an excellent writer, so I like reading what you write even if it isn't a thread between us, and I love you lots. <3 Many hugs for dad.

;u; i love you too daughter you're so sweet

[eruditeobserver]

[I mean like obvi cause you're my bestest friend, but aLSO because you made me love Laurent and you're a really good rper and witer and artist and you just rock so hard]

okay but the real reason you followed me was because i slyly handed you my tumblr url in MACS

[eruditeobserver]

I love Laurent, and I saw you interacting with another follower and I was like "HOLY NAGA IT'S A LAURENT! I MUST FOLLOW THE AWESOME FRIEND!" And promptly followed the blog and happily stalk from afar.

what the hell every one tells me they love laurent but why are there only like 3 laurent blogs and one of them is me

[eruditeobserver]

aaaaaalt

Send me "alt!" and I'll introduce you to a characterI've rped in the past, want to play in the futureor are currently playing somewhere else!

"Hullo!" Mark liked answering the phone.  It was like a privilege, especially since not every business could afford one.  "West 3rd Mechanics.  Markus Fayeton speakin'.  Anythin' I can help ya with?"

He paused, waiting for the woman on the other line to finish speaking.  He cradled the phone in the crook of his neck, reaching into his pocket and producing a cigarette.  He lit it and took a quick drag before the woman finished.

"Well, we can't really make anythin' custom-ordered until ya come in to get fitted, miss.  If the finished prosthetic isn't the right size, it don't work right.  It's gotta be just the right weight too, or you'll be feelin' it.  It's not fun, ma'am, take my word for it."

He paused, taking another, longer drag, and resisting the urge to bite down.  The woman on the other side was raising her voice.  "Ma'am, we make custom auto-mail.  M'not gonna bore you with all the specifics, but the mechanics are real particular and bodies jus' aren't suited to have a random metal leg.  I can get ya fitted with a fakie no problem, but if you want any of the good stuff, it takes time and a lotta care."

The woman hung up on him.  Apparently part of the reason she had come to Central in the first place was for a vacation, but if she really wanted a quality prosthetic, she would have been at least a little more patient...

Mark sighed, putting the phone away and walking back to his desk and sitting down.  It was so disheartening when people misunderstood his passion, and even worse when they thought that he didn't know.  How could he know what it was like to have lost a limb?  He was only sixteen.  How could he understand the pain of stumbling out of bed, having to use every wall to support their weight just to make it to the kitchen for breakfast?

His index finger scratched at his thigh; where the metal met the skin.  Maybe he was growing again.  He might have to get refitted...  

It would hurt, but it was worth it.

[eruditeobserver]

Alt!

Send me "alt!" and I'll introduce you to a characterI've rped in the past, want to play in the future or are currently playing somewhere else!

"Have I won you over with my non-sequitur Latin sayings yet?" he asked his companion in a level voice.  Well, in actuality the blond was probably the companion to the other; seeing as how he didn’t actually get to make any executive decisions, which any one could discern from the glares he gave their floating metal sidekick.  (Arcade would never refer to that as anything more than a potential accident waiting to happen, or a mere pet on the days when ED-E wasn’t spurting randomly coded entries that were probably Pre-War.)

"Because I have another," he continued, not even waiting for the Courier to answer.

He glanced around, wary to if any one was watching.  Arcade did not want to be here.  He really did not want to be here.  Maybe he was crazy, but it only made logical sense that he would loathe to be in the camp of one of the most egotistical men he’d ever heard of.  He’d call it the worst case of old world blues, but Caesar’s obsession went back even further than before the bombs dropped.

“Elapsam semel occasionem non ipse potest Iuppiter reprehendere,” Arcade said.  ”Not even Jupiter can find a lost opportunity.  You said we were here to get close enough to Caesar—” Arcade purposely pronounced the title incorrectly.  He probably knew more Latin than that dictator would ever even bother to learn; and he wasn’t even going to dignify him with the proper pronunciation.  ”—to stab him.  So… Can we get on with that?  Killing him when we still can?  I’m sure I don’t have to keep telling you how uncomfortable being here makes me.”