“How come I always end up calling you when I can’t fall asleep?”
Maybe he wouldn't pick up this time, she tries to tell herself. Maybe it would just go to voicemail. And then they could pretend that she never called.
Except he wouldn't, probably. Pretend that is. But she'd hold on to her dignity, maybe enough that the next time she saw him, saw that horrible smile on his face, she could meet his eyes for long enough to get through the lecture. Get through the three hours of supervising the undergraduate lab section. Get through the door.
She doesn't want him to pick up. Not when it's two a.m. Again. Not when she's still half drunk, and she can't see the stars beyond the storm clouds on the roof that Darcy left her on somewhere between her second and fourth wine cooler.
She didn't even want to go with Darcy anyway. She's not sure why she did, but the music that she can still somewhat hear from across the quad is starting to give her a headache.
Or maybe it's the long, drawn out seconds between the first ring and the third, or now the fourth. She could just hang up. She could.
But she's not going to. Not until she gets his voicemail.
Because...
Because it's been a crappy night. Because her piece of junk computer crashed while she was mid-compiling.
Because doing her postdoc when she's barely older than most of the seniors has never endeared her to anyone, her weirdly outgoing roommate excepted.
The call connects.
"It's 2:37, Foster."
So much for the small mercies of his voicemail.
The comically put-upon sigh helps dampen the nauseous feeling in her stomach though. She's mostly pretty sure she shouldn't call him.
"The weather forecast lied."
A click. What sounds like blankets shifting.
Oh. He's never been in bed before.
"I could be on a date," he'd said, the last time that she'd called him.
"At four in the morning?"
"It could be a very good date."
She'd hung up on his obnoxious laughter.
But maybe--
Maybe--
"Foster, it's a Tuesday. Why are you drunk on a Tuesday?"
Is it? She probably knows that, but the frustration and the article edits and the lack of sleep are finally starting to catch up with her. The crappy alcohol still working its way through her system is probably not helping things either.
"Were you asleep?"
More blankets shuffling. An over-dramatic sigh.
"Some of us are covering a 9 a.m. lecture this morning, Foster." A beat. "Do you need me to get you?"
He's probably not on a date then. Not that she cares. Not that--
"--Foster? Jane?"
Oh. Had he been saying something? "Huh? What?"
"You're usually a lot more sober when you call me in the middle of the night."
"I don't call you in the middle of the night."
A laugh. The slide of a drawer being opened.
"Of course not, Foster. Where are you?"
She doesn't though. Not really. He's just an assistant professor whose lab sections she's usually stuck babysitting. And maybe she stops by his lectures sometimes. But only because the theoretical framework--
"--Jane?"
"Why are you calling me that?"
"Because it's your name, Foster. You do still remember your name?"
He sounds less asleep now, less soft. She's not sure that she likes it very much.
"Now, Jane, are you going to tell me where you are?"
Why would he--
"The roof," she tells him, almost despite herself.
"The roof. Alright. Which roof?"
She didn't bother checking when she and Darcy climbed up here. One of the residence halls. She'll figure out which one when she sobers up enough to climb down though.
"Jane?"
“How come I always end up calling you when I can’t fall asleep?”
She isn't sure she really meant to say that.
A pause.
"I do hope you aren't trying to sleep on the roof, Jane."
"You're not very good at conversation and you're pretty much always a jerk."
"...I see." She thinks there's something off about the way he says it. She doesn't think she likes the way it sounds. "Should I call campus security instead?"
"No."
"Will you at least tell me where you are, Foster? I've got 300 freshma--"
"--I like that you pick up."
She really doesn't mean to say that either.
"I--Okay?"
"Um. Yeah."
Maybe the wine coolers were an even worse idea than she'd thought. She--
"Okay."
At least he doesn't sound upset anymore. It shouldn't-- the feeling in her gut is probably from the questionable guacamole she'd had. Or those tasteless little cocktail sausage things.
"Do you want me to come get you, Jane?"
It's 3:14 a.m. He'd said he has a class.
"Why would you?"
She hears his car keys. She knows he lives a decent drive off campus.
"The same reason you called."
Edit: I wrote a follow up.
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One of my favorite parts of phase 2 (and indeed one of the few moments I resonated with IDW Prowl) was when the neutrals were coming back to Cybertron and Prowl said that he refused to let Autobots be pushed aside and overruled after they were the ones who fought for freedom for 4 million years (the exact wording escapes me atm).
And I mean, that resentment still holds true even once the colonists come on bc like. As much as it's true that Cybertron's culture is fucked up, and as funny as it can be to paint Cybertronians as a bunch of weirdos who consider trying to kill someone as a common greeting not important enough to hold a grudge over.... The colonists POV kind of pissed me off a lot of times, as did the narrative tone/implications that Cybertronians are forever warlike and doomed to die by their own hands bc it just strikes me as an extremely judgemental and unsympathetic way to deal with a huge group of people with massive war PTSD and political/social tensions that were rampant even before the war?
Like, imagine living in a society rife with bigotry and discrimination where you get locked into certain occupations and social strata based on how you were born. The political tension is so bad there's a string of assassinations of politicians and leaders. The whole planet erupts into an outright war that leads (even unintentionally) to famine and chemical/biological warfare that destroys your planet. Both sides of the war are so entrenched in their pre-war sides and resentment for each other that this war lasts 4 million years and you don't even have a home planet any more. Then your home planet gets restored and a bunch of sheltered fucks come home and go "ewww why are you so violent?? You're a bunch of freaks just go live in the wilderness so that our home can belong to The Pure People Who Weren't Stupid And Evil Enough To Be Trapped In War" and then a bunch of colonists from places that know nothing about your history go "lol you people are so weird?? 🤣🤣 I don't get why y'all are fighting can't you just like, stop??? Oh okay you people are just fucked up and evil and stupid then" ((their planets are based on colonialism where their Primes wiped out the native populations btw whereas the Autobots and OP in particular fought to save organics. But that never gets brought up as a point in their favor)) as if the damage of a lifetime of war and a society that was broken even before the war can just magically go away now that the war is over.
Prowl fucking sucks but he was basically the only person that pointed out the injustice of that.
And then from then on out most of the characters from other colonies like Caminus and wherever else are going "i fucking hate you and your conflicts" w/ people like literal-nobody Slide and various Camiens getting to just sit there lecturing Optimus about how Cybertronians are too violent for their own good and how their conflicts are stupid, with only brief sympathetic moments where the Cybertronians get to be recognized as their own ppl who deserve sympathy before going right back to being lambasted.
Like I literally struggled to enjoy the story at multiple points because there was only so much I could take of the characters I knew and loved being raked over coals constantly while barely getting to defend themselves or be defended by the narrative so like. It was just fucking depressing and a little infuriating to read exRID/OP
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You could convince me to watch the *checks notes* loser rangers anime? 👀
SKCNCJSKSK!!!!!!
Were you a Power Rangers kid??? Are you over-saturated and bored by modern superhero media?? Do you long for a fresh take on the “dark side” of Sunday Morning cartoons that ISN’T grimdark and irony poisoned and lame?? Do you like absolutely incompetent cringefail losers and their hot murder girlfriends???!!? Then come on down to…
✨GO! GO! LOSER RANGER!✨
We’ve got it all! :
Protagonist that just fucking sucks at everything
Like. Really REALLY fucking sucks. At everything. Cant even figure out how to eat food. Hates everyone and has no friends. He’s just like me fr.
He’s like if Sasuke was the worst ninja ever like couldn’t even throw a kunai but still thought he was better than everyone else and kept the exact same pretentious attitude. I’m obsessed with him.
A fun, unique twist on the Power Rangers-esque Sunday Morning cartoons of our childhood that pokes fun at the 90s era camp of that genre of media while still feeling genuinely heartfelt and respectful to the spirit of the source material it’s satirizing
If villain bad, why sexy?
Hot Murder Lady
Genuinely just like a fun silly plot that isn’t too serious (yet) and can be enjoyed casually (or not casually if you’re a freak like I am) and really hits different if you were a power rangers kid like I was
Cool animation with a unique style that feels like a lot of love went into it
Did I mention if villain bad, why sexy??
HIBIKI SAKURAMA💅🏻💕💖💖🌸🌸
OOOHHHH YOU WANNA WATCH GO! GO! LOSER RANGER SOOOOO BAD
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