Jason Dixon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
awfulcer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wilderlogs2018-04-05 05:58 am
awfulcer) wrote in wilderlogs2018-04-05 05:58 am
Entry tags:
When the big dog comes, tell him what this puppy done.
Who: Jason Dixon and You!
What: Dixon goes looking to pick fights and blow off steam. Bonus points if we can escalate to a straight-up fist fight.
Where: Around the Melai Temple.
When: Before the Crossroads Post
Warnings/Notes: all your typical Dixon warnings
[Each night so far he's been sneaking off into the woods from where everyone sleeping. He tells whomever is on watch that he's going to stretch his legs, and then he pops on his headphones and wanders out about half a mile before finding the base of a tree, where he'll sit and start his nightly breakdown. He probably shouldn't be listening to music wandering around in the dark in the woods, but he feels as if he isn't going to make it as far as the tree if he doesn't.
Once he gets there he just starts crying, snot-filled, stressed, shaking weeping that burns him out. Cries because his Chief killed himself and he would have let Chief down anyway and he's a fuck-up who got fired and threw an innocent person out a window and because he misses his mother and because he's useless and stupid and can't get anything right, couldn't solve a case, couldn't keep his temper in check, can't keep up here with everyone so much faster and hardier and smarter than he is, and because he's just sad and doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to do.
He's out of smokes, which makes it all the worse. Once he gets it all out of his system, the nic-fitting morphs sadness into anger; these two have always been kissing cousins for him, or rather tectonic plates, bumping up and grinding next to each other, rattling shockwaves all through his impulses. So with sadness stirred up he slides easily into a thunderhead, pissed off, stomping around, spoiling for a fight. In the absence of anyone to take it all out on, he chucks rocks into the river or uses sticks to beat the hell out of trees until his hands hurt. And then he'll storm on back to the temple and try, mostly futilely, to get some more rest.
The sun's coming up by the time his crying jag is done, turning the whole sky a rosy pink. Birds are chirping. The beauty's lost on him. He almost feels in a trance, animated by an aura of rage that makes it feel like the air around him is vibrating. His fingers twitch in need of a cigarette. He gets a sort of tunnel vision.
It'll all feel better when it's someone else's fault.
When he runs into someone, his voice is thick and annoyed. If he gets close enough, he might enough shove them at the shoulder.]
The fuck are you doing out here? You been following me?
[He hopes they don't have a good answer, so he can escalate it.]
What: Dixon goes looking to pick fights and blow off steam. Bonus points if we can escalate to a straight-up fist fight.
Where: Around the Melai Temple.
When: Before the Crossroads Post
Warnings/Notes: all your typical Dixon warnings
[Each night so far he's been sneaking off into the woods from where everyone sleeping. He tells whomever is on watch that he's going to stretch his legs, and then he pops on his headphones and wanders out about half a mile before finding the base of a tree, where he'll sit and start his nightly breakdown. He probably shouldn't be listening to music wandering around in the dark in the woods, but he feels as if he isn't going to make it as far as the tree if he doesn't.
Once he gets there he just starts crying, snot-filled, stressed, shaking weeping that burns him out. Cries because his Chief killed himself and he would have let Chief down anyway and he's a fuck-up who got fired and threw an innocent person out a window and because he misses his mother and because he's useless and stupid and can't get anything right, couldn't solve a case, couldn't keep his temper in check, can't keep up here with everyone so much faster and hardier and smarter than he is, and because he's just sad and doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to do.
He's out of smokes, which makes it all the worse. Once he gets it all out of his system, the nic-fitting morphs sadness into anger; these two have always been kissing cousins for him, or rather tectonic plates, bumping up and grinding next to each other, rattling shockwaves all through his impulses. So with sadness stirred up he slides easily into a thunderhead, pissed off, stomping around, spoiling for a fight. In the absence of anyone to take it all out on, he chucks rocks into the river or uses sticks to beat the hell out of trees until his hands hurt. And then he'll storm on back to the temple and try, mostly futilely, to get some more rest.
The sun's coming up by the time his crying jag is done, turning the whole sky a rosy pink. Birds are chirping. The beauty's lost on him. He almost feels in a trance, animated by an aura of rage that makes it feel like the air around him is vibrating. His fingers twitch in need of a cigarette. He gets a sort of tunnel vision.
It'll all feel better when it's someone else's fault.
When he runs into someone, his voice is thick and annoyed. If he gets close enough, he might enough shove them at the shoulder.]
The fuck are you doing out here? You been following me?
[He hopes they don't have a good answer, so he can escalate it.]
no subject
[Cassie doesn't intend it to be confrontational. Her tone is very matter-of-fact. She'd seen him walk off into the woods with his headphones on, which didn't seem safe, so she'd followed him. Then he'd had a sobbing meltdown, which: fair, but also not exactly safe. So she'd stuck around.]
Feeling better?
[She muffles a yawn behind her hand. She hasn't gotten any sleep either, after all.]
no subject
It's not a good look, nor is the way the intensity of his anger seems to launch upwards, his whole body shaking, fists clenched, his eyes welling up against his will.
He's probably loud enough for the whole temple to hear. Maybe even wake up the late risers.]
What the fuck is wrong with you?
[Cassie's youth is the only reason he doesn't take a straight up swing at her.]
no subject
My powers have been taken away or suppressed and I made some incredibly bad decisions last time that happened, most of my survival skills are not backed by practical experience, my hair feels disgusting, I hate having to constantly be on-guard around my friends from the past so I don't drop information about their future, I'm still having having conflicting feelings about my ex, I miss my mom and sisters so bad I could throw up, I'm terrified that people are going to die because I'm not strong enough or fast enough to save them, and there are a few things that aren't technically my problem but I'm worried about anyway. Oh, and I have no idea what we're going to handle the menstruation situation.
[Dixon doesn't strike her as the kind of guy who'd be comfortable talking about menstruation, so the last is a little mean but might knock him out of his rage loop.]
no subject
I don't give a fuck about your fucking superpowers or your fucking hair! What the hell right do you have to follow me in the middle of the night like a fucking stalker?
no subject
I'm going to warn you now not to touch me, and ask you to stop shouting.
[She hates not having her powers. Angry men are so much less awful when you know you can throw a car at them.]
no subject
You ever fucking follow me again, I'll punch your teeth out. I don't care if you're a girl. You had no right.
no subject
[She doesn't step back this time, and she doesn't lower her warding hand. Her expression changes, becoming hard and cool.]
You'll try to punch my teeth out. And I'll put you on the ground. Because I have every right to follow your ass into the woods to make sure you survive the trip when you're not up to watching your own back. Or did you forget that we're supposed to be a team?
no subject
In truth, he wants air, a change of scenery, and what cheerful exercise freaks who work out because they want to and not because they might have to carry someone would praise as getting the blood pumping. He had a nightmare and wants to feel more awake and alive.
Robbie wasn’t intending to follow anybody. He had no idea the woods at dawn would be such a popular hotspot, or he would’ve headed somewhere else from the beginning.
But now he’s here, freshly arrived at the scene of a hissed argument. His ears spotted it, and his feet made a ten yard detour. He caught the last round of exchanges, and whatever’s going down – he honestly does not give a shit about personality conflicts. Everyone has to play nice and pitch in, and maybe they’ll all live through this and get to go home. ]
'sup, guys?
[ Robbie’s wearing his typical doofy grin and doing his best to act like a morning person. ]
Morning Dixon. Good morning, person who’s name I don’t know but that is entirely my loss and I hope you’ll take pity on me.
[ He’s standing perfectly in between them by now, sideways and looking at the pink sky through the trees with his hands dug in the pocket of his hoodie.
And then he waits, because he already asked his question and this is where he’s standing until somebody comes up with a complete answer or attempts to knock someone’s teeth out. ]
This blows. At least when I was a teacher, there was free coffee in the lounge.
no subject
That pause in the conflict is enough for him to remember that he doesn't particularly want to beat the shit out of a girl (or get his ass kicked by one, which is well within the realm of possibility here). The circuit of rage and insult that he was in glitches, and the wild anger sputters into resentful bitchiness.
At least he likes Robbie well enough. He owes him, he knows it.
For a moment he grinds his teeth in the front, then steps away from Cassie. His hands are shaking and his eyes are still puffy and teary.]
Morning, Robbie. This bitch's been following me when I'm trying to get some peace of mind. That's all. [He casts her a long glare, not letting her out of his field of vision even as he talks to Robbie.] How're you feeling?
[Dixon's asked about four times in the last few days since Robbie woke up from that fainting spell, pretty much every time they've seen each other, with honest concern each time. This time it's more to try and regain some measure of civility than anything else.]
no subject
He’s not a big fan of cursing, and that goes double when he’s trying to get everyone to chill out. ]
I guess Lassie went to go save Timmy from another well. That solves that problem.
[ But the look he’s giving Dixon speaks volumes about Robbie’s sudden nosedive in respect. He doesn’t have to say “dude. She’s half your age, lay off.” Because he can feel it on his face. ]
I’m fine. I haven’t blacked out again, so I’m hoping it was a one-off. A friend of mine used to get the worst nosebleeds when he used his powers. I don’t know if that’s better.
[ He turns to the blonde teen. ]
What about you, how’s your morning treating you?
[ He expects he might get a more accurate representation, or hopes for one without name-calling. It hasn’t even been a week. ]
no subject
I've had better, I've had worse. Bit of a long night, spent it keeping an eye out to make sure everyone stayed safe. Everyone seems to, so I may head off and catch some shut-eye before my friends get up and take their body heat with them.
[She tosses her hair (ew, still gross) and flashes a smile at the new guy.]
Cassie, since you asked. Or 'Wonder Girl', I answer to both.
no subject
You have got to be fucking kidding me, [he mutters when Cassie gives her moniker. Wonder Girl. Jesus Christ. And a parting shot about keeping people safe, as if he needed her assistance if he ran into a bear.
He almost wishes he ran into a bear. He has alarmingly little concern for his well-being right now.
He looks back at Robbie, figuring that it would be pointless to continue litigating whose fault the whole altercation was. ]
No black-outs is good. It's good, right? You sleep okay? Because that seems to be a big problem around here.
no subject
[ He gives her an answering smile and a peace sign. See, everyone's moving on to nicer topics. ]
Don't sweat the Lassie reference, Dixon. Half my quips are falling flat. Pop culture is not a multiversal constant, so it probably doesn't even exist where you're from. Sorry, I'll try to weed out anything that requires a specific show.
[ But he fidgets a little at the personal questions. Robbie has to wonder when they left the temple. Did they see how he jolted awake with a gasp? It feels like a dig. It's not. It's probably not. He is suddenly hyper aware how tired and itchy his eyes feel. He has to have dark circles under them right now. ]
It's not the Hilton, but what is? [ He shrugs. ] I slept okay for the floor.
no subject
If Tim has fallen down a well though, I am never going to let him live it down.
no subject
No, Lassie does exist where I'm from, [Dixon mumbles very quietly to himself, feeling a flush of red in his neck from embarrassment. He appreciates Robbie giving him an out. He still doesn't get the joke. The fact that Cassie's here to witness that he doesn't get the joke makes it worse. And he really doesn't get what Tim has to do with any of this, or even know who Tim is.]
It sure as hell ain't the Hilton. [Not that he's ever been to one.] Far as I can tell watch is kind of happening naturally, what with everyone having nightmares and weird sleep schedules and all.
no subject
Anyway, they're all at least half distracted by Lassie now, so Rob doesn't have to address the Dixon's comment about nightmares and the sudden flare of anxiety. Who cares if he knows? Everyone has nightmares, like he said. And Dixon is not the only one who's missed an important detail of the joke. ]
Hold the phone, is there a Tim in the temple?
[ Robbie looks positively delighted to find out that his joke had another layer to it and barks out a laugh. ]
Ha! Okay, everybody forget that I shot the Lassie jokes prematurely. I'm going to put them back in my pocket for Timmy, and you're going to pretend that I didn't need a trial run.
no subject
Already forgotten.
no subject
I haven't met any Tims yet. You know, what I think is maybe we should have someone do a round-up. Make sure we got a clear idea of who everyone is in case we lose anyone and in case someone unsavory tries to sneak their way in.
[It's like he's trying to volunteer an idea to make up for feeling stupid elsewhere, and, well, that's actually exactly what he's doing. But he still casts a wary glare at Cassie, as if somehow she's one of those people who might try and squirrel their way into the group with malicious intent.]
no subject
I don't think I've met a Tim, but there's a couple of people I haven't caught the names of yet. It's getting old, going "Hi, I'm Robbie." "Hi, I'm Robbie." "Hi, I'm Robbie."
[ He manages to give each one a different delivery and inflection: smooth, cheerful, and the sort of laughing, surprised tone someone would get after a meet cute involving dropped books on a subway. His face is 100% over it, although he manages a smile for Cassie. ]
Not that I mind meeting the two of you. But I wish we could just kumbaya around the fire, go around the circle dropping names, and then talk about Dixon's great idea. We all need to know who else is here, cause I don't know if I'd know if someone's missing, and that bothers me, too.
[ Robbie nods at Dixon expectantly, like he's waiting for step 2 of the plan. ]
no subject
Things are pretty disorganized now, and the only way to fix that is to start organizing. Maybe we should start using the buddy system?
[Okay, maybe she isn't ignoring Dixon's dirty look, all butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth.]