Posted. Sorry this one took longer I was sick this week.
Brink
Member
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STATUS: People say you learn from your mistakes, so I decided to make more to get smarter. 2 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 3 mos ago
- Joined: 8 yrs ago
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Username history
- Brink 8 yrs ago
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Recent Statuses
2 yrs ago
Current
People say you learn from your mistakes, so I decided to make more to get smarter.
1
like
7 yrs ago
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly.
7 yrs ago
You great supine proto-plasmic Invertibrate Jellies!
2
likes
7 yrs ago
Last night, I kept dreaming that I had written Lord of the Rings. The wife said I'd been Tolkien in my sleep
10
likes
7 yrs ago
Claustrophobic people are more productive thinking outside the box.
4
likes
Bio
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| ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ - - ▅ BRINK ▅BRINK ▅▅▅▅UK | ♆ | he/him | 29 | ♆ I'm Brink an average guy from the United Kingdom. I have been on the guild for a long time now, some say too long. I've not been active in a long time but every so often I return to build a character or two in my spare time. I've very rarely taken on an actual RP but it's not out of the question. In the past I've done a bit of everything, Sci-fi, Fantasy, slice of life from Casual to Advanced to 1x1. Currently working on a character for a Bleach fandom RP, a bit of a weak spot for me as it's nostalgic. But if you like me or like my writing feel free to send through a PM and ask questions or pitch me on ideas you may have. |  ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ |
Most Recent Posts
January 12 2079
“Make that two"
He gestured to the bartender with two metallic fingers. People in St.Petersburg were generally frugal with everything but their liqueur, the notion of cheap vodka caused Artem to roll his neck as if paining him. The two of them sat there for a few moments watching the commotion on the club floor.
“Bet you’re surprised to see me actually show up.”
A slight laugh prefaced Artem's response. "I was beginning to wonder."
The loud tap of glass hitting the bar-top caused Artem to turn. He watched as the Android poured from a bottle he was hoping to recognise, but didn't. He payed a grimacing smile before picking up the glass, tinking it's sister and taking a sip.
The lights in the club dimmed. The few strips of neon lit the room in a blueish haze just like the moon at night. A couple introductory cheers invited the resident DJ forward as he began to play the next track. Panels of light flickered in time with the beat as a layer of lasers split the dancers at the torso.
Artem, vodka in hand, started to scan the booths flanking the stage. He watched as a quite clearly drunk man started announcing his love for one of the women on the floor. As he conjured her over Artem noticed the Oni mask Tattoo between his silk shirt. The Soul Kitchen Club was a hot spot for the cities Asian demographic and often entertained members of the Yakuza. The girl, aware of who the man was approached with a smile and sat with the three of them. Looking back at Varya Artem quickly threw back his drink, leaving the glass back on the bar.
"So what's your deal? why'd you become a software mechanic?” he hadn't quite figured Varya out yet. St.Petersburg was home to many typical people that Artem understood at the moment of meeting. Things were very straightforward, black and white in Russia. But she was more nuanced, he had to think about his responses. Whether that was because she was more defensive about her personal life or simply damaged Artem couldn't tell. Getting her to a bar though, was a step forward. It obviously wasn't in her comfort zone.
Artem gestured to the Android for two more glasses before shuffling the fresh pack of cigarettes gifted to him by Oleg. That still surprised him. The bright orange fire cut through the blue and white haze as he lit up. Artem's eyes met with the drunken mans gaze. As a heavily tattooed Russian Artem had run into problems on Yakuza turf before. With an empty bottle of Sake laid on its side, the lights dancing over it's curves, Artem hoped tonight wasn't going to be one of those nights. He looked away, pretending not to notice the mans stare.
“Make that two"
He gestured to the bartender with two metallic fingers. People in St.Petersburg were generally frugal with everything but their liqueur, the notion of cheap vodka caused Artem to roll his neck as if paining him. The two of them sat there for a few moments watching the commotion on the club floor.
“Bet you’re surprised to see me actually show up.”
A slight laugh prefaced Artem's response. "I was beginning to wonder."
The loud tap of glass hitting the bar-top caused Artem to turn. He watched as the Android poured from a bottle he was hoping to recognise, but didn't. He payed a grimacing smile before picking up the glass, tinking it's sister and taking a sip.
The lights in the club dimmed. The few strips of neon lit the room in a blueish haze just like the moon at night. A couple introductory cheers invited the resident DJ forward as he began to play the next track. Panels of light flickered in time with the beat as a layer of lasers split the dancers at the torso.
Artem, vodka in hand, started to scan the booths flanking the stage. He watched as a quite clearly drunk man started announcing his love for one of the women on the floor. As he conjured her over Artem noticed the Oni mask Tattoo between his silk shirt. The Soul Kitchen Club was a hot spot for the cities Asian demographic and often entertained members of the Yakuza. The girl, aware of who the man was approached with a smile and sat with the three of them. Looking back at Varya Artem quickly threw back his drink, leaving the glass back on the bar.
"So what's your deal? why'd you become a software mechanic?” he hadn't quite figured Varya out yet. St.Petersburg was home to many typical people that Artem understood at the moment of meeting. Things were very straightforward, black and white in Russia. But she was more nuanced, he had to think about his responses. Whether that was because she was more defensive about her personal life or simply damaged Artem couldn't tell. Getting her to a bar though, was a step forward. It obviously wasn't in her comfort zone.
Artem gestured to the Android for two more glasses before shuffling the fresh pack of cigarettes gifted to him by Oleg. That still surprised him. The bright orange fire cut through the blue and white haze as he lit up. Artem's eyes met with the drunken mans gaze. As a heavily tattooed Russian Artem had run into problems on Yakuza turf before. With an empty bottle of Sake laid on its side, the lights dancing over it's curves, Artem hoped tonight wasn't going to be one of those nights. He looked away, pretending not to notice the mans stare.
January 12 2079
A blank look of surprise filled his face as he was handed the fresh packet of cigarettes. A quick glance at Varya and her empathetic smirk only further convinced Artem it was a joke. But with a cautious tilt of the head and a nervous smile Artem thanked his employer and shoved the packet into his pocket.
“If he is like that when you're around I'm sticking close.”
Artem threw an oil covered rag over to the workbench before dividing the assortment of wrenches strewn across it. A longer day than he had hoped yet not one devoid of enjoyment, Artem was looking forward to kicking back without his head inside a manifold. He peeked at Varya once more as she packed her tools in similar fashion. Artem couldn't recall the last time he had seen Oleg that pleased with a job he had done, it was already certain the two would be working together again if this was going to be the result. Only after he pondered the idea of purposefully doing a bad job next time did Artem surrender to the inevitable.
“Hey, Varya. I know this place. Cheap drinks, alright music. Lets head over there later, I think you owe me a round after I saved your Nav-box.” His smile was almost as cheeky as the words he spoke. “I need to get changed though. If I text you where it is want to meet? say eight?”
The door slammed shut, his backpack was thrown to the nearest corner. His clothes dropped to the floor in increments as Artem charged towards the shower room. His sharp intake of breath was immediately followed by a mumbling unfit for fair ears. No hot water. He struggled to push the water over himself, bumping the button at his earliest convenience.
Stepping into his bedroom he kicked on a heater. Artem took particular care towelling his cybernetics, not because they were fragile but because the Russian winter did not look kindly upon wet prosthetics. Water would often damage joints when it expanded into ice and Artem did not have the wage to keep repairing his limbs.
Artem pulled a warm-looking jumper over his head along with new trousers and his hardiest boots. The Soul Kitchen Bar wasn't the most upmarket venue in town but it wasn't going to accept any old vagrants off the street through its doors. With a last minute touch of cologne Artem rubbed his buzz-cut in the mirror. Tapping his thumb on the plexiglas phone Artem sifted through till he found Varya's face. A moment of furious tapping ensued as he threw together a quick message.
A blank look of surprise filled his face as he was handed the fresh packet of cigarettes. A quick glance at Varya and her empathetic smirk only further convinced Artem it was a joke. But with a cautious tilt of the head and a nervous smile Artem thanked his employer and shoved the packet into his pocket.
“If he is like that when you're around I'm sticking close.”
Artem threw an oil covered rag over to the workbench before dividing the assortment of wrenches strewn across it. A longer day than he had hoped yet not one devoid of enjoyment, Artem was looking forward to kicking back without his head inside a manifold. He peeked at Varya once more as she packed her tools in similar fashion. Artem couldn't recall the last time he had seen Oleg that pleased with a job he had done, it was already certain the two would be working together again if this was going to be the result. Only after he pondered the idea of purposefully doing a bad job next time did Artem surrender to the inevitable.
“Hey, Varya. I know this place. Cheap drinks, alright music. Lets head over there later, I think you owe me a round after I saved your Nav-box.” His smile was almost as cheeky as the words he spoke. “I need to get changed though. If I text you where it is want to meet? say eight?”
---
The door slammed shut, his backpack was thrown to the nearest corner. His clothes dropped to the floor in increments as Artem charged towards the shower room. His sharp intake of breath was immediately followed by a mumbling unfit for fair ears. No hot water. He struggled to push the water over himself, bumping the button at his earliest convenience.
Stepping into his bedroom he kicked on a heater. Artem took particular care towelling his cybernetics, not because they were fragile but because the Russian winter did not look kindly upon wet prosthetics. Water would often damage joints when it expanded into ice and Artem did not have the wage to keep repairing his limbs.
Artem pulled a warm-looking jumper over his head along with new trousers and his hardiest boots. The Soul Kitchen Bar wasn't the most upmarket venue in town but it wasn't going to accept any old vagrants off the street through its doors. With a last minute touch of cologne Artem rubbed his buzz-cut in the mirror. Tapping his thumb on the plexiglas phone Artem sifted through till he found Varya's face. A moment of furious tapping ensued as he threw together a quick message.
Soul Kitchen Bar
Tsentralny District
I'll be there in fifteen
and don't worry, I won't kill you with a spoon or some shit
Artem
Tsentralny District
I'll be there in fifteen
and don't worry, I won't kill you with a spoon or some shit
Artem
Pfffff. Quiet you.
January 12 2079
“Dzagoev! Artem, hurry up and disconnect the on-board navigation. Pull it all out! Now!” There was a moment, born in panic, in which Artem saw Varya instinctively react. In those moments there is nothing fake, nothing manufactured. You see the person stripped bare.
A new puckish grin curled his lips. Artem nonchalantly waltzed around the car and popped the hood, eyes fixed to Varya as she scrambled her way into the dashboard electronics. With a flick of a switch and pull of a plug Artem disconnected the power source to the vehicle, shutting down any attempts the virus might have made. Lent against the wheel cavity Artem looked to Varya with a simper.
“The virus will still be in there, you'll have to separate the chip set.” Glancing at his hands rolling a rag over his wet hands he chuckled to himself. “Looks like a bigger job than we hoped eh?”
Since Varya was the software technician the virus wouldn't strictly add to Artem's workload, he could deice the car and be on his merry way but it wasn't the best approach to take to a new acquaintance at work, so he thought. He would reluctantly have to struggle along pretending to understood the jargon.
His first instinct was to reach for a cigarette, alas patting at his pocket Artem could feel the flat packet offer no resistance. Hiding his bad habits from Oleg took its toll. With a sigh he peered at the newly revealed engine, with raised eyebrow he pressed, pulled and prodded before a fortunate reluctance crossed his face.
“Engine needs work anyway. Compressor has seen better days. These rich people think they can leave their cars in the snow and it wont seize up.”
Artem ducked his brow, looking at Varya through the hood slit. It seemed he would have to endure yet more snarky questions from Varya, perhaps more so now their situation had worsened. Yet Artem, with a slight smirk to himself, was quite alright with that eventuality. He found her adolescent jibes quite funny and enjoyed the practice of returning what was served.
“Dzagoev! Artem, hurry up and disconnect the on-board navigation. Pull it all out! Now!” There was a moment, born in panic, in which Artem saw Varya instinctively react. In those moments there is nothing fake, nothing manufactured. You see the person stripped bare.
A new puckish grin curled his lips. Artem nonchalantly waltzed around the car and popped the hood, eyes fixed to Varya as she scrambled her way into the dashboard electronics. With a flick of a switch and pull of a plug Artem disconnected the power source to the vehicle, shutting down any attempts the virus might have made. Lent against the wheel cavity Artem looked to Varya with a simper.
“The virus will still be in there, you'll have to separate the chip set.” Glancing at his hands rolling a rag over his wet hands he chuckled to himself. “Looks like a bigger job than we hoped eh?”
Since Varya was the software technician the virus wouldn't strictly add to Artem's workload, he could deice the car and be on his merry way but it wasn't the best approach to take to a new acquaintance at work, so he thought. He would reluctantly have to struggle along pretending to understood the jargon.
His first instinct was to reach for a cigarette, alas patting at his pocket Artem could feel the flat packet offer no resistance. Hiding his bad habits from Oleg took its toll. With a sigh he peered at the newly revealed engine, with raised eyebrow he pressed, pulled and prodded before a fortunate reluctance crossed his face.
“Engine needs work anyway. Compressor has seen better days. These rich people think they can leave their cars in the snow and it wont seize up.”
Artem ducked his brow, looking at Varya through the hood slit. It seemed he would have to endure yet more snarky questions from Varya, perhaps more so now their situation had worsened. Yet Artem, with a slight smirk to himself, was quite alright with that eventuality. He found her adolescent jibes quite funny and enjoyed the practice of returning what was served.
January 12 2079
He wasn't sure if his new colleague was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him or if she really was so oblivious to social etiquette, but the only response Artem could muster was a slight grin. As he swept around the car he could feel her eyes fixed to his expression almost taunting him.
"I was in an accident when I was a child. I got hit by a car, my arm got crushed. Thankfully we got enough money from the settlement to pay for the damages."
Water began trickling off of curved silver panels draining along the small canals set into the floor. Slightly adjusting the aim of a heater Artem inspected the diminishing coat of ice. The thin metal plates that made up his forearm silently bounced and jinked out of place every time he squeezed the bottle of deicing spray.
"What about you? no bionics, no nothing?" He pulled a pack of cigarettes from him pocket, plucking one free between his lips. "You know they can make you taller."
His impish grin quickly returned as he fired back. Pulling a lighter from the opposite pocket Artem lit his cigarette. With pursed lips he sucked the smoke into his mouth before taking a deep breath. With some semblance of surprise he quickly tilted the heater once more realising it had almost made it through the ice. It took a moment for Artem to exhale, there was no noticeable smoke on his breath and had they been in a deathly quiet room Varya might have heard the vents in his neck whirr into action. Regardless of his array of macabre tattoos there was nothing that quite made Artem look as sinister as his neck vents when he smoked.
The cigarette was quickly thrown on the floor and snuffed out as Artem saw the burly figure of his boss burst through the door at the end of the bay. Normally Artem would take a moment to compose himself but thankfully he was not the focus of Oleg's attention. Climbing the rusted iron catwalk stairs two officers followed en-toe. He had seen them once before, it was odd that they would be back so soon especially considering the shop hadn't had any issues with break ins. With a squint of his eyes Artem began to ruminate as to their true reason for coming back. Oleg shuffled them into the first floor office before closing the door behind them.
He looked back at Varya, the technicolor plexiglas screen in hand. With a flip of a switch Artem turned the two heaters off, their feint buzz replaced by the drips of water pouring off the car. He gave her a quick smile, obviously not genuine as his mind was now elsewhere.
He wasn't sure if his new colleague was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him or if she really was so oblivious to social etiquette, but the only response Artem could muster was a slight grin. As he swept around the car he could feel her eyes fixed to his expression almost taunting him.
"I was in an accident when I was a child. I got hit by a car, my arm got crushed. Thankfully we got enough money from the settlement to pay for the damages."
Water began trickling off of curved silver panels draining along the small canals set into the floor. Slightly adjusting the aim of a heater Artem inspected the diminishing coat of ice. The thin metal plates that made up his forearm silently bounced and jinked out of place every time he squeezed the bottle of deicing spray.
"What about you? no bionics, no nothing?" He pulled a pack of cigarettes from him pocket, plucking one free between his lips. "You know they can make you taller."
His impish grin quickly returned as he fired back. Pulling a lighter from the opposite pocket Artem lit his cigarette. With pursed lips he sucked the smoke into his mouth before taking a deep breath. With some semblance of surprise he quickly tilted the heater once more realising it had almost made it through the ice. It took a moment for Artem to exhale, there was no noticeable smoke on his breath and had they been in a deathly quiet room Varya might have heard the vents in his neck whirr into action. Regardless of his array of macabre tattoos there was nothing that quite made Artem look as sinister as his neck vents when he smoked.
The cigarette was quickly thrown on the floor and snuffed out as Artem saw the burly figure of his boss burst through the door at the end of the bay. Normally Artem would take a moment to compose himself but thankfully he was not the focus of Oleg's attention. Climbing the rusted iron catwalk stairs two officers followed en-toe. He had seen them once before, it was odd that they would be back so soon especially considering the shop hadn't had any issues with break ins. With a squint of his eyes Artem began to ruminate as to their true reason for coming back. Oleg shuffled them into the first floor office before closing the door behind them.
He looked back at Varya, the technicolor plexiglas screen in hand. With a flip of a switch Artem turned the two heaters off, their feint buzz replaced by the drips of water pouring off the car. He gave her a quick smile, obviously not genuine as his mind was now elsewhere.
There is another bad post. Don't judge me.
January 12 2079
Artem sidestepped the chauffeur, hoping to avoid the cold wash of air toed behind him. For a short moment their eyes met before awkwardly staring into the middle distance. Artem could almost hear the screech of Varya's teeth as her eyes almost chased the man out of the room. With a bottle of deicer in hand and another atop his opposite shoulder he made his way towards his new colleague, throwing one up onto the workbench he quickly fiddled with the radio dial. His choice of music was met with groans, several of the mechanics gave derisory glances only to see Artem's juvenile smile arching his lips rebelliously.
The vehicle they would be working on was in relatively good condition. The primary job was seemingly the ice, and once the systems had had a once over Artem hoped this order would be the sum of his days work. Though his new partner was more interesting to him. They had seen each other around the shop but had never been thrust into a meaningful interaction before, and with her gawky mannerisms and seemingly tactless approach he felt it would be an introduction to remember.
"So, Varya. Where do you want to start?"
He posed the question with his back turned. Unscrewing the bottle lid he began mixing the deicer into a formula ready to be decanted into a spray bottle for ease.
"Do you think you could manage the systems check? I'll begin with the ice."
Artem turned, spray bottle in hand and with that same formative smile on his face. She was actually pretty, in the right light, but Artem began to muse what her reasons for being a mechanic could be. She was short and a little scrawny, not suited to heavy lifting or the more physical tasks, although she fared well with the pair of heaters. However the calluses on her hands made Artem feel slight guilt for his judgements. Small or not she was obviously capable and she had been in shop for a good while, you don't need a strong arm to type out code he supposed to himself.
His thoughts were interrupted by static. Artem turned to see one of the elder mechanics meddling with his radio and with a swift swing of his boot scared him appropriately away. The act garnered a few laughs around the shop with a number of hand gestures being exchanged in jest. Muttering under his breath at the brass-faced nerve of the older generation, Artem turned back around and began spraying his formula over the iced panels of the car. A feint laugh managed to escape as he looked to Varya, rolling his eyes imagining she understood the nature of the shop floor.
Artem sidestepped the chauffeur, hoping to avoid the cold wash of air toed behind him. For a short moment their eyes met before awkwardly staring into the middle distance. Artem could almost hear the screech of Varya's teeth as her eyes almost chased the man out of the room. With a bottle of deicer in hand and another atop his opposite shoulder he made his way towards his new colleague, throwing one up onto the workbench he quickly fiddled with the radio dial. His choice of music was met with groans, several of the mechanics gave derisory glances only to see Artem's juvenile smile arching his lips rebelliously.
The vehicle they would be working on was in relatively good condition. The primary job was seemingly the ice, and once the systems had had a once over Artem hoped this order would be the sum of his days work. Though his new partner was more interesting to him. They had seen each other around the shop but had never been thrust into a meaningful interaction before, and with her gawky mannerisms and seemingly tactless approach he felt it would be an introduction to remember.
"So, Varya. Where do you want to start?"
He posed the question with his back turned. Unscrewing the bottle lid he began mixing the deicer into a formula ready to be decanted into a spray bottle for ease.
"Do you think you could manage the systems check? I'll begin with the ice."
Artem turned, spray bottle in hand and with that same formative smile on his face. She was actually pretty, in the right light, but Artem began to muse what her reasons for being a mechanic could be. She was short and a little scrawny, not suited to heavy lifting or the more physical tasks, although she fared well with the pair of heaters. However the calluses on her hands made Artem feel slight guilt for his judgements. Small or not she was obviously capable and she had been in shop for a good while, you don't need a strong arm to type out code he supposed to himself.
His thoughts were interrupted by static. Artem turned to see one of the elder mechanics meddling with his radio and with a swift swing of his boot scared him appropriately away. The act garnered a few laughs around the shop with a number of hand gestures being exchanged in jest. Muttering under his breath at the brass-faced nerve of the older generation, Artem turned back around and began spraying his formula over the iced panels of the car. A feint laugh managed to escape as he looked to Varya, rolling his eyes imagining she understood the nature of the shop floor.
I don't know. I know why the links broke when I was moving, but since I've re-uploaded them I've not seen any problems so I'm not sure why it was borked for you shrugs.
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