OOC, taken from the Shadow!

[victormakesart]

A meme. Choose anything from the list, and leave a comment, and I'll write a drabble to go with it!

1. Playful!
2. Murderous!
3. Flailing!
4. Incarcerated!
5. Deviant!

Comments

[orchidlover_wa]

How about Flailing!Victor, since she's so good at that. :)

[victormakesart]

"What do you mean what's the big deal?" Victor asks, voice rising in pitch in a manner rather like a police siren, or a squeaky hinge, and her palm is sweating against the plastic curve of the telephone. "He just got his germs all over me. Just waltzed over and... no, no, I don't care if he didn't mean to, I'd never go up to someone and just coat them with my own disgusting bacterial matter or any other particulates, and...." She pauses to suck in a deep breath, and kick and punch wildly at the air around her. It registers that, yes, she is throwing a hissy fit. To complete the hissy fit, she makes some sort of strangled heron sound. "It doesn't matter that he was a dog, I don't go around peeing on their fire-hydrants, they shouldn't go around licking on my face."

[evillurks]

I'd like to see her as a deviant, since she seems so terribly well-intentioned and well-behaved all the time.

[victormakesart]

Another reporter pestering her about her gender, and this time she (some silly brunette with a bobcut and mauve fingernails and perfect teeth) didn't leave her alone about it, didn't accept any of her evasions, actually called her evasions evasions. She left Doc speechless, for the first time in years, speechless, and her face burned so hot under her mask that she wanted to rip it off, just for one good breath of cool afternoon air. For the first time, she felt the sting of tears under her mask, and she hated it.

So she looked up this reporter, a Miss Jennifer Flamel, address 1512 Columbia Avenue, Langley Heights, California, 91745. A little stucco house, painted the color of a salmon's belly. And Victor wrote on her stoop, in blue chalk, what she was too dumbstruck to say in person: SHUT UP!

[evillurks]

*Laughs* Well now I know what might get her worked up enough to misbehave!

[victormakesart]

Hee, yeah! She's usually very well-behaved, except for breaking the law with vigilantism. Then again, it can be argued that the worst she's doing is a souped up citizen's arrest with a mask on. Even in her personal life, she tries very hard to be good.

Reposted to add: Once she decides that something is bad and wrong and against her personal moral code, it's one heck of a chore to get her to do it anyway. A source of great frustration for other characters and herself. She either has to change her rules (which rarely happens), or make new rules (which sometimes happens), or just stay the way she always has been (which is the most likely outcome).

Dunno what OC or a drabble is but...

[hart_on_sleeve]

Oooo! Give me one WildyInappropriate!Vic please! :O)

OOC is out-of-character, and a drabble is a little ficlet.

[victormakesart]

"I'm digging around because I lost my keys somewhere in this thing," Owen says, while riffling through Martha's purse in a manner that suggests, no, he's not looking for his keys at all. He just wants to look through her purse. No cigarettes, no flask, what on earth does Miss Martha Jones do with her time.

"That's what Captain Jack Harkness said!" Vic pipes up.

Martha forgets to smack Owen, Ianto drops his tea-stirring spoon, Tosh stops typing.

Vic's face flushes hotter than a lizard during the summer of 1963, on a granite stone, in the sun or another star of equivalent size. "Come on... I can make dirty jokes. Shut up. Don't look at me like that. It was funny."

[backnthesaddle]

...will you hit me if I go with wanker?

Otherwise, intoxicated or silent treatment would be awesome.

1/3

[victormakesart]

"...what did you call me?" Doc asks, voice approaching dangerous levels of calm, and she tilts her head to the side (well) birdishly. She straightens her coat.

The mugger repeats that word he used, the sort that rhymes with 'bag' and isn't very nice.

Surge is a bit busy comforting the woman who was going to be mugged, but she doesn't need much comforting, she's just rattling on about how cute Surge looks, and how she can tell even with the mask that he's a total fox. Surge (even with the mask) looks vaguely uncomfortable.

"I'd advise you not to say that," Doc says to the mugger, who is already neatly cuffed.

He says that word again, the sort that rhymes with 'hag' and isn't very nice.

He's the first criminal to end up on the steps of the police station in a frilly pink floral dress, but he probably won't be the last.

2/3

[victormakesart]

The TARDIS doesn't think to lock up her liquor cabinets around Victor, because Victor doesn't drink. Everyone knows Victor doesn't drink. Even blind mole aliens from the planet Mzorinia know that Victor doesn't drink.

Today, Victor drinks. She sets out wanting to take a shot for every stupid scar on her stupid body, but after two she's already feeling woozy, and like she left her stomach elsewhere.

By the time Billy finds her, she's drunk dialed her parents, and written a note from past-her to future-her saying that she hates all sorts of vodka and potatoes don't make good drinks.

Billy takes one look at her, and she bursts into tears, apologizing all over the place, apologizing like I'm-sorrys are flower petals and she's the flower girl at a wedding.

"Vic, it's fine. You're almost twenty-two, you're allowed."
"I'm bad, I'm bad. I'm doin' bad things. Don't you get it? How bad I am. You don't even know how bad

An alternate, less depressing 2/3. Really, with Vic, it could go either way.

[victormakesart]

Victor is one of the few people who takes 'experimenting' with alcohol quite literally.

She has a log book. She has graphs.

[notacargojet]

Hmm. Jealous.

[victormakesart]

You know what? It's fine if he wants to skank around with every hobag with leggings instead of pants and skirts that could double as belts and shirts that are cut so low that they look like backless shirts but turned the wrong way.

No, no, she's not upset at all that he hasn't so much as touched her hand in weeks, that he acts awkward when she smiles at him. That she feels so self-conscious she could scream, that she feels like she's in junior high again before she knew that being a girl didn't mean that she had to wear dresses all the time. Before she knew better than that.

You know what? She doesn't care if they have enough STDs that they could spit onto a coaster and make a petri dish in two seconds flat.

It's okay, he's a politician, he has needs. He needs vapid sl-- bi-- who-- women.

You know what? She's not upset. No, not upset, it's okay, okay? Okay?

[notacargojet]

Awwwwwwwwwww. Poor Viclet. *hugs*

Over-protective and bedtime?

1/2

[victormakesart]

Victor has no idea why women think it's so darn attractive to parade around in their current lay's suit shirt. That means they definitely need to dry-clean that shirt. That's what Nathan's current you-know-what is doing, slinking around the kitchen like she's hot stuff.

Victor pours her a cup of coffee and smiles.
"Who're you, then?" Nathan's you-know-what asks, languidly draping herself onto a chair, moving like those graceful girls that Vic can look at for hours and not be able to pinpoint that very vital something that makes them so different. The kind of girl that can look pretty even on a treadmill. Victor can't look pretty on a treadmill.
"His pet artist. Every fashionable man has one. They keep us in handbags," she says, distractedly, taking a big slurp of coffee.

Nathan's you-know-what eventually makes her way back to the bedroom, and Nathan himself makes his way to the kitchen to find Victor looking concerned, tapping her lower lip. She worries about him