#sorry for the very late reply to this ask. that’s just how the cookie crumbles
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had to say this to a community blog, but abed is literally me, i watched that episode where a gay guy hits on him in a bar while he info dumps to him about his own special interest and i am just here like the soyjack pointing guy at this man like he is literally me (accurate recreation of what is going on in my brain rn below)
first off, great image & the sentiment is shared by many of us on community tumblr I’m sure. ALSO that’s so awesome, something that continues to blow my mind is how accurate some of abed’s little quirks and behaviors are??? they’re so incredibly niche and seemingly random yet somehow hit the nail right on the head???
like in pillows and blankets when they say that bit about “he’s a mastermind capable of incredible manipulation, but also can’t tell his left from his right without singing the star-spangled banner” (that’s not the exact quote verbatim but you get it) I was like ???;?;?$;$;$;$;(! BECAUSE I DID THAT EXACT THING FOR THE LONGEST TIME? (you put your right hand over your heart when doing the pledge.) how did they peg that specific behavior so accurately??? so casually??? futhers my hypothesis that autism representation is almost never accurate unless accidental. but GOLLY gee was it accurate!!! holy shit dude.
anyway I’m assuming you’re on the spectrum too from this ask and thanks for giving me an excuse to rant about these because What The Fuck. glad we’ve all been able to see at least some of ourselves in abed he’s so special to me
#sorry for the very late reply to this ask. that’s just how the cookie crumbles#community#nbc community#community nbc#abed nadir#autism#autism representation
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Duvet Days - Eunhyuk
A/N: Something fluffy and slice-of-life with Eunhyuk for you all. No idea where this inspo came from, but I’m happy with it :)
Finally, you had a day off. You had been so busy lately it felt like you hadn't had any time to yourself, so today you had big plans to do nothing.
Aside from getting up to get food, you spent the day in bed. When Eunhyuk got home and couldn't see you anywhere else, he figured that's where you would be.
"Have you moved at all today?" he chuckled after finding you where he left you that morning.
You simply nodded, pointing at your pile of snacks as proof.
"Now that I'm here, do you need anything else?" he offered. "I could make you some proper food, or a drink?"
"You can give me cuddles," you told him.
Eunhyuk smiled at you before climbing into bed beside you. Raising an arm, he made room for you to snuggle into his side.
"How was your day?" you asked as he squeezed your shoulder and pressed a kiss on top of your head.
"Busy but good," he replied. "We were very productive."
"Well, that makes one of us," you joked.
"You were productive in looking after yourself," he pointed out.
"That's true," you agreed. "I do feel much better after a lazy day."
"Exactly. And do you know what would make me feel better?"
You looked up at him quizzically.
"If you share your snacks."
You couldn't help but laugh, "Of course, they came from our shared kitchen anyway."
"We need to make time for days like this more often," he told you, reaching for a cookie.
"Yup," you agreed. "Recharge Days."
"I like that," he chuckled between mouthfuls. "Oh, but now you have cookie in your hair."
"Dammit, Hyuk," you exclaimed, wriggling out of his embrace and brushing your hair out over the side of the bed as he laughed.
"Don't laugh at me when it was your fault," you moaned, pushing him.
"I'm sorry," he said, despite still laughing. "But it's not like I was deliberately crumbling it over your head."
"Ok, new Recharge Day rule, no snacking while snuggling."
"Really? You're making me choose between you and food?" he whined.
"You can have both just- Hey!"
As you were talking, he reached over for another cookie.
"Did you just choose the cookie over me?"
"You said I can have both," he mumbled through a mouthful.
You pouted at him with a slight scowl on your face.
"Ok," he said once he'd finished eating. "Snuggle time now."
You continued to scowl even as you leant back into him allowing him to hold you again.
"I love you," he whispered against your hair.
"Ok," you pouted in response, fighting the smile that wanted to come through.
NAVIGATION | SUPER JUNIOR MASTERLIST
#eunhyuk#lee eunhyuk#super junior eunhyuk#suju eunhyuk#hyukjae#lee hyukjae#hyukjae x reader#hyukjae imagine#lee hyukjae imagine#eunhyuk scenario#eunhyuk scenarios#eunhyuk imagine#eunhyuk imagines#eunhyuk fic#eunhyuk fluff#eunhyuk x reader#eunhyuk x you#hyukjae scenario#eunhyuk drabble#hyukjae drabble#suju ELF#suju imagine#suju fic#suju fluff#suju drabble#suju oneshot#eunhyuk oneshot#hyukjae oneshot#super junior imagine#super junior imagines
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“I was happier with you.” 🥺🥺
I know it’s taken me ages to get to this, but here’s the drabble you requested, lovely!
Snargaluff
“Evans!”
“—so just let me know if you need more help with the Cave Inimicum charm, alright?” Lily smiled at the fifth year Ravenclaw kindly, ignoring the prat yelling her name. “And send me an owl if you have any questions.”
“Sure. Thanks, Lily.”
“Evans, wait!”
“I think the Head Boy’s calling you,” said the Ravenclaw, her eyes flitting to look behind her with a strange smile.
“Off you go, Genevieve. You’ll be late for class.”
“Er, right. Thanks again.”
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Lily!” huffed the tall, 17-year-old git as he caught up to her, frowning sulkily, “I’ve been calling your name for ages! Trying to make me look absolutely insane, are you?”
“You don’t need my help with that.”
“Lily.”
“What is it, James?” she rolled her eyes, trying to look very much like the patient Head Girl she wasn’t at the moment. She turned to him with an exasperated expression, masking the way his bright hazel eyes were making butterflies erupt inside her stomach. “Did you want something?”
“I did actually. Some answers would be nice.”
“Answers?”
“You’re ignoring me.”
“That’s not a question.”
“You’re not even going to deny it?”
“What would be the point?” Lily asked, making her way towards the entrance hall. “You’d just say I was lying.”
James easily fell into step beside her, eyes wide and incredulous behind his glasses. “Well then? Why are you?”
“No reason.”
“Oh, because that’s a completely valid answer. Thank you for clearing it all right up. I’ll finally sleep in peace tonight.”
“That’s all I could’ve hoped for.”
“Lily,” he gritted his teeth, and she could hear the annoyance that was now evident in his tone. Good, she wanted to say. She was annoyed as well. “Stop trying to evade the question. What’s going on with you?”
“I’m fine, James. I’ve just been stressed.”
“Because of me?”
“No,” she sighed, but reconsidered, “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“I’m just—you’re confusing me, James.”
“I am confusing you? I’m sorry, are we both having the same conversation?”
“Well, not right now! I meant before,” she snapped, throwing open the tall double doors as she stepped outside into the courtyard, the crisp, cool air whipping through her hair. James was right at her heels.
“Three years ago, then? I tend to forget the details with my wise years catching up to me.”
She wouldn’t smile no matter how much her lips wanted to turn up at the corners. He was a bloody charmer, but Lily had honed her resistance to him for over six years, even if she increasingly found it difficult to remember how.
“Shut up.”
“Is this about breakfast last week?”
She didn’t even remember breakfast last week. “What?”
“Because let me tell you, I tried to convince Sirius, but he was certain Regulus was being brainwashed by Mulciber. And he promised he’d only throw a harmless hex—”
“Oh, I don’t care about Mulciber, James! I’m sure he deserves all the hexes he gets anyway.”
“Ah,” He blinked, nodding as they came to a standstill against the large fountain, “nevermind then. What’s it about?”
Lily groaned loudly, and let him bear the full brunt of her glare. “If you really must know, it’s because of what happened in Potions class.”
“Potions?” He asked, a tiny little crease appearing between his dark brows, “that doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Good for you,” she said, trying to walk away.
“No, wait wait wait—just, give me a second, would you?” His fingers lightly brushed her palm, pulling back immediately as if shocked by the contact. Lily felt electricity zoom up her arm as well, so she couldn’t really blame him. “Fuck, I really can’t remember. You can curse me into oblivion, but at least let me know what I’ve done!”
He was throwing such a pitiful glance her way that Lily felt her resolve crumble like a cookie. Oh, she was turning into such a pathetic mess.
“You switched partners.”
“I—um,” James shut his gaping mouth, two pink spots appearing over his cheeks. “No?”
“Are you asking me or are you telling me?”
“Telling you?”
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, James,” Lily rolled her eyes again, feeling her own mortification catch up to her. “I know you did it, don’t bother denying now. You could’ve told me you didn’t want to work with me anymore. I didn’t think I repulsed you that much.”
“Hang on, what the fuck are you saying?” He looked flabbergasted, sputtering nonsensically for a few seconds before he found his voice again, “repulsed by you? Me? Repulsed?! I—you—no, Lily! Just—no.”
Her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline, and she bit her lip, holding in the smile that wanted to take over her whole face. “Then why did I see you scribbling a note to Sirius begging him to switch seats with you when Slughorn gave us our new assignment?”
“You saw that?! Were you reading over my shoulder?”
“Really?” she deadpanned, “that’s your main concern?”
“Well, I—I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself, okay?” He threw his hands into the air, and Lily found it interesting to notice that his cheeks had gotten even redder, “you make me say and behave like a bloody idiot. We were using Snargaluffs that day and I knew—I knew I’d get distracted next to you. Didn’t really fancy having thorns sticking out of my fingers, or yours.”
Lily didn’t know what to say, so she just stared. James grew more restless by the second, words pouring out of his mouth in panic.
“I didn’t want you to hate me when I inevitably fucked up, so I asked Sirius to switch. He’s better at Potions than I am anyway—don’t tell him I said that, he’s a stupid wanker—so I thought he was the next best option since Remus was already partnered with Peter. Oh, Merlin, I hope he didn’t say anything weird to you, I specifically told him not to—”
“James, stop,” Lily said, a laugh finally bursting out of her as she dropped her hand onto his arm, “Sirius didn’t say anything weird.”
“No?”
“No!” She laughed again, before her eyes softened and she tilted her head to stare at him with a small smile, “it’s just that, well, I was happier with you.”
She heard the deep intake of his breath and waited for the entire three seconds that it took for him to reply.
“Even though Padfoot’s better at Potions?”
“Even then,” she grinned, stepping closer. “So, would you terribly mind returning back to your seat next lesson?”
His fingers were lightly resting on her waist now. “On one condition.”
Her eyes flicked to his lips, “what’s that, Potter?”
“That you don’t murder me in my sleep when I earn us a Troll.”
Lily didn’t know whether to smack her skull open against the stone, snog him senseless or laugh at his ridiculousness, so she found a middle ground and dropped her head on his chest with a light snigger, comforting herself with his pleasant warmth.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
#claudia writes#claudiawrites#snargaluff#hodgepodge#jily#jily fic#jily drabble#jily fluff#I know this was an angsty prompt#but my babiess#ao3#james potter#lily evans#asks#claudia answers#prompts
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Yes, it's great that Sirius finally dared to ask Remus out. But... maybe next time don't do it in the midst of a Death Eater attack?
@wanderingbandurria here it is!
(I keep hurting Sirius in all my fics lately! What's wrong with me?!)
It's a date!
“We should have dinner.”
Sirius speaks without pausing the rapid succession of curses he’s firing. Remus gives him a quick look, but almost immediately has to turn his attention back to the darkness in front of them, as a beam of light flies right past his head. He fires a cure back, and three curses come soaring at him in return, only to be deflected by Sirius’ quickly casted Protego Charm.
Before more curses can come their way, Sirius and Remus duck behind a rock on their right.
“Sure,” Remus says. “Let’s tell the Death Eaters to wait here while we go on a food break. Hey, maybe they’d like to join, and we can all go to McDonalds together.”
Suddenly, a particularly nasty curse blows a piece of the rock away, just centimetres from Sirius’ head. Sirius doesn’t hesitate. Using the dust as a cover, he Stupifies the approaching Death Eaters with three well-aimed curses. Then he turns around to follow Remus, jumping and rolling over the floor into the shelter of a battered, but at least still standing, wall.
“I didn’t mean now,” he says, rolling his eyes. “After this.”
Remus peers past the wall, and smoothly disarms the Death Eater trying to attack them on his side.
“Sure,” he says. “Do you want to make a grocery list, or...?”
A beam of light hits the seam of Sirius’ robes and sets them on fire. He spins on his heels and first somehow manages to take out two Death Eaters with one curse, before pointing his wand to his robes to extinguish the flames.
Suddenly, Remus pushes him away so roughly that he trips and falls flat on his back. In front of him, the top of the wall has come crumbling down and large pieces of rock cover the spot he had just been standing.
Remus grabs his hand, pulls him up, and they sprint away again. This time, they end up crouching down behind a low wall that can hardly be called a wall.
“I meant,” Sirius says slowly. “We should have dinner, at a restaurant, together, just the two of us.”
Remus’ eyes widen in surprise and he opens his mouth to speak, but at that moment a flash of green light flies right past his head.
Sirius’ mouth tightens in anger and he jumps to his feet, sending of a rapid succession of curses. Not without effect, judged from the grunts coming from the Death Eaters hidden in the darkness. He feels something scrape his cheek and turns in the direction it came from, but Remus jerks him down just in time before three curses at the same time fly towards where Sirius’ head had been just second ago. Blood is dripping from a deep gash in Sirius’ cheek.
“Padfoot,” Remus says disbelievingly. “Are you asking me out? Now?”
Sirius shrugs. “Seems as good a time as any.”
A shrill, familiar voice echoes through the darkness. “Where are you, you filthy blood traitor? I’m gonna make you regret the day you shamed our family, you foul disgrace!”
Sirius and Remus send a red beam into the direction of the voice almost automatically, which is followed by a loud shriek.
Remus raises an eyebrow at Sirius.
“Alright, maybe not as good a time as any,” Sirius reluctantly admits. “But still, the question stands.”
Sirius’ eye catches two stone pillars, that look like better hiding places than the almost falling apart wall. He motions for Remus to follow him and once again they sprint through the night, dodging curses here and there.
“Since when...” Remus jumps to one side of the pillar to avoid a curse and then quickly jumps back again to avoid another. “Do you even want to date me?”
Sirius casts a Protego on his left and Remus’ right, so they can first focus on the Death Eaters at the other side.
“Couple of months maybe,” Sirius replies. “I found out I rather fancy you, and as much as I enjoy being friends with you, I was hoping it could be something more.”
Remus gapes at him, but even more surprising is the sudden force that blows them both backwards, landing flat on their backs a few metres away from the pillars. From their new position though, they are able to spot a ditch in the ground, and staying low, they manage to crawl in that direction and roll themselves in the ditch.
They take a minute to catch their breaths. Sirius’ face is bruised and Remus has sprained his wrist.
Suddenly, a glowing white deer appears in front of them.
“Padfoot, Moony.” James’ voice sounds grave. “The Prewetts had to give up their position. The Death Eaters who were fighting them are almost certainly on their way to reinforce the group attacking you.”
Remus curses under his breath.
“You have to get out of there as fast as you can,” Prongs’ voice urges, before the deer disappears again.
“Shite!” Sirius looks over his shoulder to where he knows the Death Eaters must be approaching.
“What do we do?” Remus asks anxiously.
“We have to get that piece of parchment to Dumbledore.” Sirius gestures at the folded parchment tucked away in the pocket of Remus’ robes. “Whatever information it contains, he said it may be essential for Lily’s, James’, and Harry’s safety.”
“I know that much,” Remus says. “But how? The anti-apparition zone stretches out for at least another half a kilometre, if not more. We won’t make it like this, but they’re too many to stop and face in a standstill, with even more on their way! And if we turn around and run, one of their curses will surely hit us in the back.”
“I might have an idea,” Sirius says thoughtfully. “You run to the end of the anti-apparition zone, while I hold off the Death Eaters and cover your back-”
“Sirius.”
“No, hear me out. I’ll stall them only as long as to give you a good head start. Then, I’ll turn into Padfoot and follow. Padfoot’s smaller, darker, closer to the ground, and therefore much more difficult to hit, and let’s not forget much faster! I’ll have a much better chance.”
“Alright,” Remus says reluctantly. “But don’t be a stubborn idiot, Sirius! I know you. I know how you get carried away. Don’t think you can take down all Death Eaters on your own. Stall them for a bit, and then follow!”
“I will, I will. Just get ready to run.” Sirius is already turning to climb out of the ditch.
“Wait.” Remus grabs Sirius’ arm and turns him back to face him. “Tuesday night. That Italian place with those almond cookies I like so much. Pick me up at seven, and wear your leather jacket.”
Sirius blinks and then breaks out in a grin. “It’s a date!”
Sirius loves duelling. There’s a reason he was the best duller at Hogwarts. It’s addictive to him, the constant alternation between evading, shielding and deflecting, and attacking. He loves the adrenaline rush when an enemy’s curse just barely misses him and the thrill when he hits his target.
The knowledge that each Death Eater he takes out is one less to hurt Remus spurs him on even more, and he soon gets lost in the sensation.
Suddenly, he hears a chuckle on his left, and sees a hooded figure standing right next to him. It’s more instinct than anything else that makes him Stupify the figure before it can hurt him.
He blinks. Right next to him? How did he let that happen? When did they get so close? How long has he been duelling?
He turns, meaning to change into Padfoot mid-turn, but before he can transform, something hits him between his shoulder blades. A sharp pain spreads through his body and the world around him goes black.
Sirius slowly blinks his eyes open and groans at the throbbing pain throughout his entire body.
Suddenly, James’ face is occupying his entire field of view.
“Padfoot? Padfoot, are you there? Padfoot, can you see me? Can you hear me?”
Sirius turns his head away. “Yes Prongs, and I can smell you too! Merlin, what’s the last time you brushed your teeth?”
But James just responds by wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug.
Sirius hugs back as good as he can. “Close call, huh?” He mutters.
“Much too close,” James confirms as he releases him again. He looks a bit shaky. “Mad-Eye called us sentimental fools when we went back. We thought we were just bringing back your body, so we could at least give you a proper-” He shakes his head and runs a hand over his face. “Merlin, Padfoot.”
“Sorry,” Sirius winches.
A silence falls, before Sirius asks “What day is it?”
“Friday,” James replies, and Sirius groans.
Downstairs, the front door opens, and Lily’s voice drifts up.
“Hi, Moony. James is with him right now, but I just finished cooking some dinner. Would you like some?”
“No, thank you, Lily,” is Remus’ flat reply. “I’ll be going right upstairs.”
“Remus, what’s the last time you’ve eaten anything? Or slept, for that matter.”
“He’s been taking it very hard,” James whispers.
“Yeah,” Sirius replies. “We were supposed to have Italian.”
James frowns at him. “I honestly don’t think he’s been so upset because he missed out on pizza night.”
Before Sirius can reply, however, the door opens and Remus is standing there. His mouth is slightly parted and his eyes widen as his gaze fixes on Sirius, who’s staring back at him.
“I’m sorry I missed our date,” Sirius says in a raspy voice, and he wants to ask for another chance, but the words die in his throat as Remus strides forward, cups Sirius’ face in his hands and just kisses him.
Sirius doesn’t particularly mind this turn of events, and participates as best he can, his hands clutching Remus’ sweater as he loses himself in the feel of Remus’ lips insistent against his own.
“So,” James says with a raised eyebrow after they’ve pulled apart. “That’s... new. Are you two together?”
“Not yet,” Remus says, without taking his eyes off Sirius. “But as soon as Padfoot is well enough to walk, he’s going to make up for being a stubborn idiot by taking me to a fancy restaurant for a candlelit dinner, and he’ll better have asked me to be his boyfriend before dessert.”
Sirius’ face breaks out in a grin. “It’s a date!”
#my tumblr writing#wolfstar#wolfstar fanfiction#wolfstar fic#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#sirius black#remus lupin#remus x sirius#james potter#wolfstar fluff#wolfstar angst
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More hearts {c.e.}
Hii lovelies! This one is based off the two songs ;more hearts than mine by Ingrid Andress and match in the rain by Alec Benjamin. I’ve been thinking about this one for a while now so here it is. Let me know what you think lol sorry if this is shit, feedback is very much appreciated :)
Pairing: Fem! Reader x Chris Evans
Warning: Angst
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“I can’t do this anymore”
Those words didn’t amuse you when Chris said them with a heavy heart. Teary red eyes and tumbling words as he sat on the couch where you stood near the wooden window sill staring into the oblivious of falling rain. Though it was dark outside, you enjoyed the sound of pattering rain—where your boyfriend cried his own tears of sadness.
You felt numb for few seconds. Your mind fathomed what he uttered but it took a while for your heart to figure out that it was really happening. After 3 years of being together with each other through the thick and thin, sorrows and happiness it was time you go your way and he goes his. You’d still consider kind of him to break it to you in such a fragile way, making sure first that your heart is strong enough to endure the ache of your now—ending relationship.
Finally breaking in through the barrier of strong emotions, a tear rolled down your cheek as you quickly wiped it away with your palm crossing your hands over your chest. It hurt, it hurt more than you thought it’d when the love started fading away.
You could tell he tried, so did you. Every morning you’d wake up with a heavy chest knowing you have to go through the day with the person who’s heart stopped beating for you long ago. It wasn’t that he was cheating, but sometimes there isn’t a need of other person for one to fall out of love.
The kisses he placed on your forehead which once felt warm now were completely cold. He was pushing himself to save your dying relationship, but he couldn’t do it. There were two bodies in the house but only one present–each night you’d say I love you’s and turn away from each other to fall asleep. Well aware of the truth that neither of you meant what you said anymore, you’d let silent tears hit the soft pillow until the soreness of your eyes drifts you away in deep slumber of sleep.
He on the other side felt you slipping away through his fingers. The dead look in your eyes gave him the hint that the time was up, but he pretended you’re both still strong anyway. He wasn’t willing to believe that this was the end, he didn’t want to give up on the relation he has built you through tears and smiles over the years.
But his intuitions told him it’s too late. You were long gone.
Your heart crumbled every day with the screaming memories you created in the same house where you now lived with a heavy heart. The laughter and joy were nowhere to be found, he’d work in his office everyday to keep himself busy and you’d do the same. Reading, writing, doing anything that’d keep you off from feeling the everyday growing ache in your chest.
Watching him grow distant was the worst pain you ever went through.
However.
You’ll be fine, but how will you tell your mother? Who loved Chris very much like her own son. She falls in love faster than you, and the second you introduced Chris to your family she instantly wrapped her arms around his welcoming him with a warm heart to your strong family.
Every Christmas she’d send you homemade cookies and hand knitted sweaters but ever since you brought Chris home, she made sure to send one for him. And now won’t she be heartbroken? She’s not going to have one more to knit sweater for. Your mother always told you how Chris filled the spot she always craved for having a son—and now she’d watch him go away with you.
She’d wait patiently for your arrival with Chris’s favorite meal ready every time you visit her but now, not anymore.
“You complete our family son.” She smiled when Chris took the heavy pot of stew from her hand helping her set the table while you and your sister were out with your dad grabbing a few stuff for the house.
He volunteered that he’d stay and help your mother—loving her the same he loved his own mother.
“Thanks ma” he replied placing a kiss on her forehead. His heart swelling with the adoration he developed for you and your family and how not only he loved you unconditionally but those four members you called home.
And your dad. He always checked the car tires before you both hit the road, saying he just wanted to make sure that his daughter goes hime safely—lying not caring about Chris. But everyone knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.
Your dad loved Chris. He’d always go fishing with him and talk about sports and politics. Though he was proud of having two amazing girls, he wished he had a son to go fishing with, fix house with, whom he could go golfing with. And when you brought Chris home that Friday evening, you saw him smile. Unlike the fake one he gave your other boyfriends but the one that showed you how proud he was.
“So you like whiskey or rum?”
“I’d take whiskey sir”
“Call me dad” making your head turn from the couch where you sat watching television with your mother your eyes picked tears. Never he has welcomed a man so lovingly before. You knew it was real when you father loved him as if he was his own child.
Oh how could you break your old man’s heart? He’d pour you whiskey over ice and lie that he never liked him, but deep down you know he’d miss him too. He’d miss watching football with him, arguing over politics, fixing the deck.
He’d miss caring for his son that now he lost.
Last came your younger sister. Oh how she loved embarrassing Chris and having little snickering arguments with him. She’d disagree with him just to see him getting frustrated and then would laugh about it later. But never once he minded it. He cared for you sister just like he did for his.
For her too, he completed your little family with the craving of older brother. Though you never let anyone touch her, she always wondered what it’d be like to have a protective brother. And Chris never failed to annoy her either, he loved how her face would get all scrunched up as she’d get irritated like a typical teenager that she was and would huff and puff until he brings out the present he got for her.
“So you know I told you I like this guy at school right?” She said mouth full of fruits as she sits beside Chris on a Sunday morning telling her all the ‘gossips’ she’d say. And being a 39 year old man he’d listen to her babbling nothing like but as if he was a teenager himself.
“Yeah?”
“Well he asked me out” she smiled wiggling her eyebrows at him. Chris let out a laugh before ruffling her hair.
“Funny of someone to like you”
“Hey!!”
“Just kidding, tell him if he breaks your heart, I’ll beat the shit outta him” he raised his eyebrow winking at your sister before tossing a piece of cantaloupe from her bowl and popping in his mouth.
But who will bring her chocolates like last time when she’ll go through another heartbreak as a part of growing up? Who’ll teach her how to drive a motorcycle even though she’s quite young for that? Chris could’ve, but not anymore.
Closing your eyes your, you let your tears fall—not bothering to hold them back this time. You’ve been keeping your emotions locked up from a long time, maybe now it was the time you it go. Let go of the heaviness off your chest, it’s time to breath again.
You walked over to where he sat and gave his back a gentle rub.
Lifting his head from his head he looked in your eyes. For the first time in three months he saw emotions, he saw the fear and guilt and sorrow and pain you carried along you. The eyes which once were full of colours and spark now dead and dull. He was defeated. He couldn’t save you.
Running your fingers through his hair you let out a sniff, trying your best to pass him a broken smile.
“We’ll be fine” you whispered pulling him closer, without any hesitation he wrapped his arms around his waist hiding his head in your crook. His salty tears wetting your skin but you couldn’t care less as you rested your cheek on his back letting yours damp the cotton material of his t-shirt.
Chris was a man with the biggest heart. His kindness and generosity made even the most unworthy fall in love. How could they not. He was never selfish or greedy, or even thought of himself as “I”. Being a child amongst four he was taught to carry the family out of self love, as ‘we’. And to put those he loved, above all and the rest.
He gave you the happiness of your life, he made you smile when no one could. He came in your life bringing the light of joy and enlightened your dark space in heart—which felt it could never love again with radiating warmness. He gave your family the love no one could, he loved them selflessly just like he was taught.
Though he’d miss the warm stew and a mom who always sent hand knitted sweater, those Sunday morning golf games and a dad who’d lie how he never cared about him, the glimpse of a teenager’s life and a sister who loved to snicker around laughing at his blushed face but he won’t deny he’d miss you the most of all.
The woman who taught him the meaning of true love. The woman who stood with him through the rain storms and brightest sunshine. Who never doubted his will and everyday was the encouragement of being a better man. The lady who will always hold the only place of lover in his heart as long as it beats, he doubts he’d ever be able to place his heart in other’s hand like he placed it in yours without any second thought.
And today, he didn’t only break your heart.
But his and the hearts of other three that were once his family.
If we break up I’ll be fine,
But you’ll be breaking more hearts than mine.
#chris evans x wife!reader#Chris evans#Chris evans imagines#Chris evans x reader#chris evans fanfictions#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans x female reader#chris evans writngs
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12 days of Christmas Pedros. Short little ficlets based on prompts that can be found here. One ficlet every other day. Thank you @yespolkadotkitty for the beautiful banner!
Day 11 - “Oh my God, I didn’t get you a present!” - Dave York from the Sturdy Home verse
This was going to be the first Christmas without Dave. Even though it really shouldn't have come as a surprise, the holiday had still managed to sneak up on you. You'd had so many other things to think about while attempting to glue together the shards of your broken life this past year, and subconsciously you had hoped that if you just ignored thinking about Christmas then maybe it just wouldn't show up this year. Of course, that plan hadn't worked. The girls had started putting together lists for Santa already at the beginning of November.
Christmas had always been Dave's favorite holiday and you had been wholly unprepared for how to handle it without your husband being there to guide you through it. You couldn't do this on your own! Not without Dave and especially not with the man who looked like Dave but was different from him in a million little ways.
December had rapidly approached and with it, your anxiety grew. Dave asked a few times if you needed help or if there was anything he could do to assist. You shot him down every time and in the end, he stopped asking. You knew you were being ungrateful but the thought of watching Dave decorate a tree or help wrap Christmas gifts would have shattered you completely, and no one wanted a broken mom for Christmas.
The girls somehow handled their dad's amnesia better than you did. You hadn't talked to them much about it but their eyes didn't fill with sadness every time they looked at him and, instead of crying, they only reacted with rolled eyes and slight frustration when Dave did something unexpected or forgot something they thought he ought to have remembered. Your youngest had started referring to him as David, and when you had carefully reminded her that David was still her dad – trying to convince yourself as much as her – she'd looked at you with an amount of patience that no six-year-old should be able to possess.
”I know, mom. But not all the time. Sometimes he's just David.”
You hadn't known how to respond to that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The month of December flew by faster than it had any right to. Decorations and preparations weren't nearly as lavish as they had been in previous years but, all things considered, you thought you had done a pretty okay job and both the girls and Dave seemed pleased. For everyone's sake, you had opted out of going to the family dinner at your parents' house. Dave was still a little wary about meeting people he was supposed to know and your own constant state of exhaustion didn't make for the most entertaining dinner guest either.
Instead, you'd put together a small dinner with just Dave and the girls. Dave had gotten up early and made bread. It tasted just like the bread Dave had made every other year and he had apologized when he'd watched your eyes tear up after he'd offered you a slice on Christmas morning. The girls had brought home decorated gingerbread cookies from school. The frosting tasted of sugary chalk but Dave still complimented them.
Gifts were exchanged and the girls tore into the colorful paper and squealed with delight at their new toys and clothes. For just a few moments, as you watched your daughters and listened to their happy laughter, you forgot to be sad and smiled with them.
The smile only slipped when you looked over at Dave and found him already watching you, with a curious expression on his face. You looked away again.
”Don't forget those,” Dave said, pointing at two remaining gifts, hidden deep underneath the tree behind where the other gifts had been. You frowned, not immediately recognizing the paper, but it clicked why when you watched Dave swallow nervously as the girls tore off the paper from the gifts that were clearly his doing.
You jumped when Alice screamed in delight. Dave's shoulders dropped and relief washed over his face as he laughed. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his smile. Both girls got up and more or less flung their arms around his neck, the new plush cat and rabbit squeezed into the middle of the group hug.
”Thank you, Daddy!” Alice squeaked against his shoulder and the house of cards, which you spent all your waking hours carefully assembling crumbled once again as your hands began to shake and you found it difficult to breathe.
Dave looked over at you and now it was his smile that slipped and disappeared, replaced by a look of worry. You stood up and with a flimsy excuse of getting water, you fled to the kitchen.
You didn't hear Dave follow you until he spoke up.
”Should I not have done that?” he asked carefully, keeping a respectful distance to where you were leaning against the kitchen counter with your back to him. You took a deep breath and turned around, forcing a fake smile onto your face.
”No, Dave, it was very sweet... You got their favorite animals right too. I'm sorry. I'm just...”
”Thinking of him,” Dave finished sadly. You bit your lip to keep it from trembling.
”You...are here,” you replied in a shaky voice. Dave held your gaze and you forced yourself not to look away.
”I'm trying to be,” he said softly, but with a stubborn resolve that was all too familiar.
”I know.” You pushed away from the counter and his hands twitched at his sides, almost reaching for you before he stopped himself as he realized you were just heading towards the doorway to the living room. He cleared his throat.
”Let's get back to the girls.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You let the girls stay up a little too late and when you decided to finally call it a night, they were both so tired that their eyes were only half-open as they staggered up the stairs. The silver lining was that they were also both too tired to protest when you ordered toothbrushing.
While they brushed their teeth and slipped into their pajamas, you helped put their opened gifts on their respective nightstands so they would be the first things they saw when they woke up the next morning. Everything was neatly arranged, except for the cat and the rabbit. The plush toys were held tight in the girls' arms as you read them their bedtime story. Irrationally, you wished that you would have gotten a plush toy to hug at night as well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you came back downstairs, Dave was relaxing in front of the TV, his feet propped up on the coffee table. You made a beeline for the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine before you joined him.
”They're sleeping like logs,” you told him as you handed him his glass. He thanked you and took a small sip before returning his focus to the TV, which was showing some sort of Christmas concert.
”I'm surprised they even made it up the stairs. Especially Alice in those unicorn boots,” he said with a soft chuckle.
”If only they had inherited your fondness for practical footwear,” you teased with a small smile. Dave turned his head away from the TV to look at you. You watched him back.
”Hey...” he said slowly and set the glass of wine down on the table. Your pulse sped up and you gripped your own glass of wine a little tighter. But Dave turned away from you and started feeling for something between the couch cushions. ”I uh... I got you a gift too,” he said and when he turned back towards you he held a flat, square box, the size of your palm in his hand. It was wrapped in navy blue paper with gold stars.
”Dave...” you said, surprised and then a little ashamed. ”Oh Dave, I haven't gotten you a present.”
Dave shook his head before you could attempt any apologies.
”You have given more than enough already,” he assured you before looking around the living room with a soft smile. ”My first Christmas for example.”
You watched him quietly until he nodded his head towards the gift in your hands.
”I was nervous with the girls but this is even worse so please...”
”Yes, sorry,” you apologized and picked at the edge of a piece of tape. You were less aggressive in your unwrapping than the girls had been and less vocal when you finally got the box open, revealing a delicate necklace with a small golden heart hanging from a thin gold chain. In fact, you were completely silent as you stared at the gift. The symbolism of it didn't escape you and suddenly you found it harder to breathe around the growing lump in your throat.
You looked up at Dave and, as always when he did something unexpected, your paper-thin defenses crumbled into nothing and you started crying.
”Hey...” Dave said softly again and reached out to swipe the pad of his thumb across your cheek to gather up the first tear that escaped your eyes and rolled down your cheek.
You still couldn't speak, so with the box clasped tightly in your hand, you leaned forward to wrap your arms around him. You could count on one hand how many times you had hugged Dave since he came back, but he immediately responded by curling his arms around you, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was.
He wasn't your husband, but he was sweet and caring, and for the first time you weren't hugging him as a substitute for someone else.
You held each other, perhaps for longer than what was necessary but you didn't want to let him go just yet and neither did Dave, it seemed. You still stained his shirt with your tears but it wasn't the heartwrenching sobs from the other times.
When you pulled back, you held out the box for him.
”Will you help me put it on?”
Dave nodded and you turned your back to him. When his knuckles brushed the back of your neck as he fastened the tiny clasp of the necklace, you closed your eyes for a moment and let out a slow breath before you turned back to face him.
”Beautiful,” Dave said and the intensity of his gaze made your cheeks burn warm. As you held his gaze, you brushed your fingers over the little heart. It was still a bit cold to the touch but slowly, it was beginning to warm up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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boys (that i dated in highschool) | k. akaashi
chapter 3: things that i miss
fun fact: mc is resident heartbreaker, and kuroo has a running conspiracy that she kills all of her boyfriends as inspiration when writing her novels. bokuto is quick to point out that all of her exes are still living, but his point stands nonetheless.
~~~~
something about bokuto’s house parties had never quite sat right with her, especially after witnessing many years of chaos that his mother had to endure every time they left him alone for the weekend.
being bokuto koutarou’s next door neighbor all her life had prepared her for the moment she walked inside the designated apartment and realized the bright lights and balloons were definitely his doing.
it was a welcome surprise to hear the loud, cheerful remarks of her ex-captain as he moved to pull her into a tight, slightly suffocating hug.
“dude, i didn’t realize you still lived in tokyo! your mom still sends me cookies.” the gleeful smile that graced over his features sent a giggle down her throat that she effectively pushed down as she grinned at him.
“the lemon cookies? she doesn’t even bring me those anymore!” she stated with a pout, and before bokuto could reply, he was interrupted by the introduction of a very loud, very drunk kuroo tetsurou.
“YOU ACTUALLY CAME!!” he’d yelled much too loud for comfort, and she shushed him lightly as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
“i wanted to see kenma actually, do you know where he is?” she teased, and he hit her arm playfully as he chose to hand her a glass instead. “kuroo.. i don’t think i want to know what’s in this.”
“you can see kenma if you drink with me!” he stated triumphantly, and she was whisked away as soon as she’d agreed.
the kitchen is surprisingly calm, and the music across the hall vibrated against the tile floor.
“kuroo, i’m not taking shots with you.”
“you have to! it’s your first college party!” he pouted, visibly wobbling as he poured two shots of cheap vodka.
to be honest, it tasted more like rubbing alcohol than anything. “who said this was my first college party?” his jaw slacked open at the comment, and pushed another shot in her direction.
“keep talking, dollface. i was going easy on you, but there’s worse shit in the fridge.” opening the fridge, she was brought face to face with a comically large bottle of kool aid flavored titos, a staple of bokuto’s house parties that was mutually hated by all.
“never again. i will never ever ever-“
spoiler alert, she did. all it had taken was one glimpse of dark hair from the corner of her eye to have her downing every shot kuroo handed out, and bokuto quickly joined the party.
all of a sudden, the last one was one drink too many as she stumbled her way into the nearest bathroom.
what she didn’t expect to be greeted by was an equally drunk akaashi sprawled out in the bathtub. when he noticed her, he immediately shot up and tried to gather his usually stoic demeanor.
to be completely truthful, he was a mess. after a failed drinking game with bokuto, he’d brought up the topic he’d been dreading.
of course that topic would find herself in the bathroom he’d been wallowing in.
instead of stating the obvious, she pushed lightly against his knees in an effort to get him to scoot over. when he did, she sunk down against the white marble of the bathtub next to him.
the first few minutes were surrounded in silence, and the music from outside echoed against the walls as she pulled a cigarette out of her pocket.
they sat there, passing it back and forth as they let the nicotine calm the nerves that had been inflamed by the tequila that had been provided prior.
“do you miss how it used to be?” he’d asked suddenly, and he cursed himself internally as he noticed the sadness that painted over her features at his statement.
“sometimes. do you miss it?”
“i miss how effortless everything was. it all just made sense, until suddenly it didn’t.” the atmosphere in the bathroom had shifted entirely, and tension began to build as she flicked the cigarette butt out the window.
“i don’t think anything has really made sense since.” she laughed, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes as she shifted her focus to the tiled floor.
“bokuto hasn’t stopped asking about you for years, and i don’t know how to break it to him that it won’t happen no matter how much he tries.” a part of him died as soon as the words left his mouth, and she tried her best to choke down the tears that were starting to form under her now closed eyelids.
“my sister doesn’t believe it either. i guess a year did more damage than we thought it would.”
“you don’t regret it, do you?” akaashi had tried his best to keep his voice consistent in an attempt to further disguise the conflicting feelings that bubbled against his esophagus.
“i don’t regret a lot of things, keiji. i learned a lot from our time together, i just wish we could’ve salvaged our friendship afterwards.” she shrugged, and he nearly crumbled as he remembered the reason he avoided her like the plague.
maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was fear. but he knew it was something he didn’t want to deal with anymore.
“it’s not too late, right?” he asked hopefully, before quickly backing down. “i mean.. if you don’t want to-“
“akaashi, it’s never too late. you still mean a lot to me and i-“ she was interrupted by an obnoxious ringtone, and akaashi sighed as he answered bokuto’s call. he mouthed a quick ‘i’m sorry’ as he tried to calm bokuto down while scrambling out of the bathtub.
all too quickly, the bathroom was once again swallowed by the silence from before. getting up from the tub, she came to face the mirror as her hands clung to the marble countertop.
“he really loved you.. and now what do you have?” she questioned the tearful soul in the mirror, grasping onto the marble counter as emotions began to overwhelm her senses.
this was not how that night was supposed to go.
instead of wallowing in the bathroom, she took the time to gather herself as the reflection in the mirror stared her down.
“it’s in the past. let it stay in the past.” she stated, dragging her fingers through her dark hair. “you’re going to go out there and forget about akaashi keiji. you’re here for you, not for him.”
with that, she was off. back into the frenzy of bodies and empty beer bottles she went, determined to find kuroo and possibly kill him (after making him get a beer.)
instead, she ended up tripping on the shoes of a certain grey haired volleyball player, and threatened to break his kneecaps for doing so.
or well, that’s what would’ve happened if she didn’t think he was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.
“oh shit,” he said, reaching down to help her up. “sorry, i didn’t see you coming. you kinda looked like you were on a mission or something.”
“oh, i kinda was.” she laughed, and he smiled down at her as soon as she was back on her feet. “i have a certain rooster head to kill, but i can always save some time for you.”
“is that so?”
kuroo tetsurou officially had a new score to keep, and his ‘true crime’ conspiracies were piling with new evidence.
COLLEGE PARTY VICTIM #1
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Life Series Book 1 Chapter 1: Broken Peace
“Arbor Eliffe! You get back here young lady!” I ran at top speed as Mrs. Greenwood yelled after me brandishing her woven basket over her head.
I laughed like a maniac as I happily got away with the pockets of my jacket stuffed with cookies. However I hadn’t quite reached the woods when a hand reached out and pulled me back by the collar of my coat.
I turned and smiled sheepishly at my father. He didn’t say anything as Mrs. Greenwood caught up to us. “Burian she’s done it again” the woman huffed her breath making little clouds in the cold air with each exhale. “Stole the whole tray the little troublemaker” she prodded me in the stomach with her basket which made me squirm from where my small frame was still being held up by my father gripping my collar.
“I’m sorry Lavender, I'll have Camella bake you a fresh batch if you would like” my father offered.
I looked up at the adults talking over my head. “Hey I still have ‘em here in my pocket” I explained. Reaching in I pulled out a handful of crushed cookies.
My father sighed and Mrs. Greenwood let off a noise that sounded an awful lot like a growl. “I’ll be waiting for your wife’s delivery,” the woman declared turning on her stubby legs and hobbling back to her little cottage. I stuck my tongue out at her back.
“Arbor” my father spoke scoldingly.
“What?!” I exclaimed “she’s a mean old woman!”
My dad let off a breath “that’s not-” he was cut off by a tearing noise and in the next moment my butt was in the snow. I looked up to see the torn collar of my coat in my father’s hand. “Let’s go home,” he declared defeatedly. “We’ll talk there”
I followed my father through our small village. Cradled in a little glen it was a peaceful, wintery world all to our own. It was mostly filled with Dryads like my family and Mrs. Greenwood but we had the occasional animal friend who came to say. The Beavers who lived in the nearby dam came over every once and awhile to buy some things and a family of deer had a hollow down the road.
It was a calm place most of the time. However there were times when we would hear the bells of the queen’s carriage or the pounding feet of the security police pack and would have to go inside. Those times me and mother would wait in the back room until father came and got us. To tell us things were safe.
When me and father got home the first thing he did was take my coat and dump the pockets into the trash bin. Which I felt was a great waste. Then we headed into the kitchen where my mother was cooking. “Darling is that you?” she called over her shoulder.
“It’s both of us” my father replied “someone got in trouble with Lavender Greenwood again”
“Hey she’s the one that hordes all those goodies she bakes” I argued “and I’m not the only one who steals them”
“Yes you’re just the one who gets caught the most” my mother chuckled turning around. She came over to the pair of us “i’ll make Lavender a new batch of cookies” she looked down at me squinting her eyes “oh look you’ve got dirt on your face” she murmured raising her apron to wipe my cheeks.
“Mom” I whined. “It’s just a little dirt from Mrs. Greenwood’s garden.” she continued to scrub at my face “why are you making her cookies anyway? She’s the mean one who’s always glaring”
My mother sighed, apparently giving up on getting my face clean. “How about I double the recipe then and we can keep the extra batch?”
“I quite like that plan” I smiled as she stood.
“Oh so you’re rewarding our little thief here now are you?” my father inquired of my mother with a smirk.
“Well Mrs. Greenwood is quite the grouchy old woman” mother pointed out. I gave my father a proud smirk having said something very similar earlier.
“What am I to do with you two?” the man of the house sighed.
“Love us” I cheered.
“I quite like that answer” mother laughed lightly. Then she noticed my father holding my coat. “Oh what happened to your coat?” she inquired coming over.
“Dad ripped it” I pointed up at the man quickly.
“Nice” he grumbled down at me.
I shrugged “it’s the truth”
“Alright well we’ll get this fixed up then” the woman declared taking up the torn fabric. She sat it off to the side and returned to making dinner.
“Come here kid” my father picked me up and sat me on the table. “We have to talk about all this stealing you’ve been doing. Mrs. Greenwood’s cookies, yarn from Mr. Orchard.”
“It’s not stealing” I objected “it’s borrowing”
“Do you return it?” my father inquired. I didn’t answer because I knew he was right “exactly now you can’t do that alright. Your five years old Arbor you have to understand. People work hard to make or earn the things you just take.”
“But I work hard to take them,” I explained. “I had to wait for an hour outside Mrs. Greenwood’s window for her to place the cookies out and then even longer for them to cool off.”
I heard my mother chuckle and my father sighed “listen Arbor things have value beyond just the work you put into them. Things like the value of promises and hope and love” my father sighed and sat down. “Here I’ll tell you a story. There once was a great king of Narnia. A king by the name of Aslan back in a time when our people would dance and bloom. Green grassy hills and fields filled with colorful flowers, petals drifting on the wind. Great celebrations with singing and dancing with the fauns and centaurs and all the other creatures of the wood.”
“That sounds incredible,” I explained. “You would dance outside in the snow?”
“There was no snow then” the man objected “Before this eternal winter there was once the four seasons. There was spring where things would grow and bloom and we’d have rainy days to splash in puddles. Summer where it would get so hot in the day we would all relax in the shade and play music, we’d have bonfires and tell stories. Autumn when all the trees would turn beautiful colors and we would harvest the fields preparing great feasts and parties. Then when winter would come it would be a short time where we’d go sledding, build snowmen, snuggle inside with warm drinks, and give gifts to one another”
“Wow” I exclaimed in awe imagining such a world “what happened?”
My father’s joyous smile faltered “it was stolen away from us by the White Witch.” my father explained he glanced over at my mother who had been watching us as she cooked. Her face heavy, and rigid in concern and sadness. “She came and she stole and she destroyed, Arbor. She took our joy and our happiness she took all the magic from our beautiful world and filled it with winter and sadness and fear”
“That’s awful” I murmured looking out the window at the white snow falling outside.
“She stole Arbor and she destroyed this entire land do you understand now why you must never steal what belongs to another?” he asked.
I nodded quickly “but there has to be some way to end this winter? I want to see spring, summer, autumn”
My father smiled warmly. Then looked around as if he expected us to be overheard before scooting closer. “There is a prophecy left to us by Aslan.” he cleared his throat dramatically before continuing “it goes: When Adam’s flesh and Adam’s bone sits in Car Paraval in throne the evil time will be over and done.”
“Wow” I breathed, keeping my voice low in a mirror of his “what does it mean?”
“It means that one day two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve. In other words two human boys and two human girls will come into this land and vanquish the White Witch restoring all we once had to Narnia”
I let off an excited giggle “they’ll bring spring back?” I questioned loudly.
“Shh shh” my father hushed lightly “yes they will.” he sighed and reached a hand out to touch my cheek “oh and my dear Arbor I hope you get to see it”
There was a moment of silence in the house before mother sighed “alright you two enough story time” she decreed. “Burian I need you to go pick me some more apples for the crumble”
“I can do it mom” I exclaimed jumping from the table. “I want to go see Malic”
“Oh alright but your coat is torn” my mother observed.
“Here she can borrow mine, it's not that far to Malic’s orchard,” my father offered. He picked his jacket from the back of his chair and wrapped it around me. It smelled like him, warm and comforting. Like pine needles and old wood. The jacket was far too large for me made of brown leather, however it didn’t drag on the ground and I could move in it. “There that should suffice for your small journey”
“Here” Mother handed me a basket. “Alright now it’s getting late so off to Malic’s and then straight back here for dinner”
“Yes ma’am” I nodded in agreement as I shuffled to the door. “I love you!”
“Love you too darling” father replied.
“Love you” my mother also voiced kissing my forehead and then ushering me out the door.
I ran down the snowy lane. Weaving past ice patches and giving an extra big smile to the glowering Mrs. Greenwood as I passed by her Cottage. Entering the woods I navigated among the trees with practiced ease. I reached my destination with a happy squeal.
“Malic!” I greeted the aged apple tree. He rustled his branches in greeting. I reached up and placed a hand to his trunk leaning in. I felt the life rushing below and within his bark. I felt a weight hit my arm and looked to see an apple had fallen into my basket. “Oh thank you mother sent me to collect some for a crumble she’s making.” I explained.
Malic reached down with his branched and I climbed up among them. I loved going high up into the air and looking out at the woods. Sitting in his branches I began to pick offered apples and tell him the grand story my father had told to me. Malic allowed me to jabber at him for a long time before I finally realized the sun was setting behind me and it was getting dark.
“Oh I have to go, my mother said to be back quickly” I told the tree. “I’ll be back tomorrow though” I promised. Malic let me down from his branches and I began to run back toward the village waving goodbye to my friend.
I weaved among the growing shadows of the trees, my feet crunching in the snow. I was nearly out of the woods when I was brought to a stop as a scream split the air. Fear suddenly shot through my veins as my breathing picked up. I started forward again slowly as firelight came into view. I entered the glen and dropped my basket with a gasp at the sight. People were running around madly two of the houses of the village burned and another began to catch.
Statues that looked a lot like people I knew stood along the street in frozen images of terror. Shielding themselves from whatever was about to attack them. Standing there in the middle of it, just as frozen as the statues around her, crystal white with a gleaming scepter in her hand admiring the chaos with a look that could only be described as a chilling evil. The White Witch.
I stood there staring as screaming was all around me just looking at her. Then someone grabbed my arm. I turned to see the panicked eyes of Mrs. Greenwood. “Arbor, come this way quickly!” she whispered urgently and dragged me off toward her house. We came inside and she pulled me over to a place on the floor. Lifting a hatch she rushed me down into the little crawl space below. “Stay here” she whispered hurriedly looking over her shoulder.
“Where’s my mom and dad?” I asked desperately.
“Shhh” she hushed me quickly. “Just stay quiet and stay hidden. Arbor please stay here until everything is quiet please promise me”
“I promise” I agreed, too terrified to do much else. She closed the hatch and I heard what sounded like her slapping the carpet back over it. The small space suddenly became very dark. I curled up into myself and listened.
There were screams and crashing and yelling and the roar of fire and things falling more screaming. I covered my ears and rolled on my side burying my head into my father’s jacket. Praying for peace.
It was a long time before there was finally peace. I remained hidden in the darkness long after there was silence listening in fear. However, eventually I rose from my place on the floor and pushed on the hatch with my shaking hands. Slowly it creaked open. Climbing out I looked around. The house above was trashed, the table overturned and the door crashed in. Gentle morning light was pouring in from every crack in the walls and through the shattered glass in the window.
Slowly I walked forward. Every step sounded far too loud in the chilling quiet. I exited the house and looked around in despair. Half the village was burned to the ground. The street was empty. I walked on down the road heading for home. Praying that it was safe hoping my parents were there waiting for me. Hoping they would be there to tell me everything was alright. The more I thought of them the faster I went until I was running around the corner to my house.
I stopped dead in my tracks. It was gone. The entire home was ruble. Burnt to a chard crisp. I felt tears threatening my eyes as I looked around and didn’t see anyone. “Mom? Dad?” I called into the silence. There was no response “Mom?! Dad?!” I called louder. Still nothing I called again and my voice broke as my knees buckled. They were gone.
#chronicles of narnia#narnia#the chronicles of narnia#the life series#peter pevensie#susan pevensie#edmund pevensie#lucy pevensie#aslan#the beavers#the lion the witch and the wardrobe#fanfiction#narnia fanfiction#also on ao3
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I love your writing. I was perusing the masterlist and came across the 'Miscommunications' one. If you don't mind, I would love to see your take on the guilty aftermath of one such altercation. One where A can't forgive B, the one who caused it, the one who didn't understand what they did until it was almost too late. A sort of 'It's better to suffer alone, than deal with you anymore' kind of thing. And B utterly miserable at knowing they only have themselves, and their stubborn pride to blame.
I’m glad you enjoy my writing!
As I think the trope mentioned, I do love miscommunication and it is a theme present across many of my universes - in particular, you might enjoy Injection and Wergild if you’ve not read those already!
Now, moving on to your prompt…. (rubs hands together gleefully)
Masterlist.
~#~#~#~#~#~
Nadia woke up to pain. She processed it silently, not daring to move a muscle as she shook off the remnants of the dream. Death and fire. It was the same every time now. Someone would make a mistake and everything would crumble because of it.
Pain was radiating out from the hollow between her neck and shoulder. Damien bit in the same place every time, and she didn’t know how long it’d been, how long she’d been stuck in this nightmare, but it was long enough that the purple-black bruise throbbed viciously with every breath.
She waited, because Moreau never took long to appear after she’d woken up. She remembered the sight of his smirk in her blurry vision, asking the same question every time.
“What does my future hold?”
She refused to answer. Even as Damien mauled her neck each time, draining just enough blood to leave her woozy and on the edge of dreams. She would slip away, and dream of destruction and misery and hopelessness, and then she would come back and it would start all over again.
No one was coming for her, she knew that. Part of that was her fault, she knew, for getting so frustrated in that awful fight that she threatened to leave.
But she had just been angry. She hadn’t meant it. And maybe it would be a sufficient excuse for not looking for her at the beginning, that first day, before tempers could cool.
Nadia couldn’t keep track of time very well, between her visions and the blood loss, but it was long past the time where her disappearance could be excused. The only way they wouldn’t realize she’d been kidnapped was if they didn’t care - if they didn’t check her room to see if she’d left anything behind, if they didn’t call to make sure she was okay, if they didn’t bother to do the most cursory of checks to make sure she left willingly.
But of course they didn’t care. Nadia had only ever fooled herself into thinking they did. She was just a tool to them, like she was to Moreau, and the moment she’d dared to express an original thought, she’d been cast aside.
The frustration welled up in her, but she didn’t have the energy to sustain it, and she slipped back under, dreading her dreams.
~#~
She woke to the smell of lavender. It was odd - a familiar scent. Freya used to decorate the nursery with it. She opened her eyes warily, wondering what fresh hell Moreau had designed for her today.
The wardrobes looked familiar. As did the painting on the wall, a mermaid sunning herself on a rock with corpses floating beneath the water line.
Nadia’s first thought was to wonder how the hell Moreau had managed to get that painting. The second was a bewildering mix of emotions - hope and rage and fear and disbelief and wariness, tangled up in home.
She surged upright - and immediately regretted that, freezing and falling back onto the bed as her shoulder violently protested the action. Hissing through gritted teeth, she curled on her side and forced herself up more slowly.
Her head was spinning, vision fading in and out, and she sat there, head hanging, until movement was no longer accompanied by a sickening wave of pain.
There was a glass of water on the bedside table, and a small box of cookies, and she reached for both. She sipped the water even though she wanted to drown herself in it. The cookies tasted like ambrosia, melting on her tongue and lifting the fog. She ate the whole box.
The sugar helped immensely, and she felt awake for the first time in…days? Weeks? Months? The imprint of fangs on her shoulder served as a throbbing reminder of the half-lucid, mostly-dreaming nightmare state she’d endured.
But now she was home.
Nadia slowly stumbled upright onto shaking feet. The sugar helped, but not that much, and she felt like she was falling with every step. Finally, she grasped the door frame.
She cast a glance back at the room. Her room. Nothing had been changed, even her sheets were the same. There were two books on the nightstand she didn’t remember reading, one was Shakespeare and the other was definitely a children’s book, big letters and bright colors.
Did she remember hearing snatches of a soft voice telling a tale of dragons and mice? Or was that a dream she’d locked away?
If this was a dream, she would cry. If this was Moreau’s sick, twisted idea of how to break her, it would work.
There was no one in the hallway. She followed a low murmur of voices through it, down the stairs, to the large, open-plan living room. She hovered in the shadows, because she needed to see first, to gather the information before she made a decision.
It was her team, not Moreau. It was Freya and Richard and Wright and Jasmine, not Damien. It was Vi gurgling from the bassinet in the corner.
Nadia had not realized how desperately she needed to see her goddaughter until she was halfway to the cradle, her heart in her throat.
The conversation broke off abruptly, but Nadia didn’t care. She heard the hushed stillness, but she was reaching a trembling hand into the cradle and nothing else mattered.
Vi looked up at her, blinking large beautiful brown eyes, her teeny tiny fingers wrapping automatically around Nadia’s index finger, and she smiled.
Nadia broke.
She barely remembered crumpling to the floor, but her head was pressed against the side of the cradle and she was taking in huge, gulping, heaving breaths. There was still something warm wrapped around her finger and Nadia shuddered - in relief, because she was here, she was home - in terror, because nothing that Moreau or Damien had ever done to her could compare to the thought of losing that fragile grip.
Someone’s hands were on her shoulder and she flinched - the pressure disappeared instantly. There were voices around her, but she didn’t have the energy to care.
“Nadia,” a soft one broke through the dullness, “Nadia, can you make it to the chair?”
There were hands on her elbows as though they were going to lift her - going to touch her, move her body like it was a ragdoll, like what Moreau had done over and over because she was too woozy and weak to lift a finger.
Nadia curled up further, gripping the edge of the bassinet and getting up on her own power. She didn’t look at them, she couldn’t look at them. Not yet.
She gently tucked her hands beneath Vi and slowly lifted her up. Vi hummed at that, before kicking her legs in glee. Nadia held the squirming baby carefully as she located the nearest armchair and sank down into it.
Vi squealed happily into her ears and Nadia tried not to cry.
With Vi in her arms, both comfort and shield, she lifted her gaze to consider her once-friends.
Wright had been the one to talk, his hands hovering in the air like he’d intended to catch her if she fell. Freya was vibrating in place, her gaze fixed on Vi. Richard was watching her, his arms crossed. Jasmine looked pale and wan, like she was about to faint. Nadia didn’t know where the others were. She didn’t particularly care.
“How long?” she asked, ignoring the hoarseness of her voice. They all flinched when they heard it, but she sat there patiently, waiting.
“Three weeks,” Richard said finally, his voice twisting, like he wanted it to be an apology but didn’t know how.
Three weeks. She’d been Moreau’s prisoner for twenty-one days, until her dreams had blurred so much she could barely distinguish between reality and her nightmares.
Something tugged on her hair and she looked down to see Vi’s fingers wrapped in a tangle of curls, looking up at her and giggling.
“It took you three weeks to find me,” Nadia said flatly. She didn’t have the energy to sneer the words, to twist them, to hiss with the undercurrent of poison.
It didn’t matter. She could see her words sink in like daggers to the heart.
“You were being held by Moreau,” Freya replied defensively, “His place is a fortress, it wasn’t easy -”
“How long before you realized I was taken?” Nadia asked, because she didn’t need to hear their excuses. She’d heard so many of them already, she could fill in the blanks.
Richard and Wright looked at each other, expressions shifting on both their faces. Jasmine was staring at the floor. Freya’s face was splotchy red. Richard looked away, and back to her, opening his mouth.
She cut him off. “The truth,” she said, “Not whatever lie you just came up with.” Her gaze was hard. She saw the future, not the past, but was she saw was real and truths could not be hidden for long.
Richard and Wright looked back to each other, and Nadia wasn’t very good at reading expressions, but all four of them reeked of guilt.
She felt her heart drop, hollowing out her chest and vanishing into a pit so deep she would never hear it break.
“You didn’t,” she said, and she couldn’t meet their gazes, couldn’t keep looking at expressions that fell to shock and shame and remorse. She stared instead at Vi and watched as the little girl played with a lock of her hair, seemingly fascinated. Even that wasn’t enough to numb her grief.
“You came for Damien,” she said hollowly, as the pieces fell into place. “How disappointed were you when you found me instead?”
“Nadia, no,” Jasmine said roughly. She sounded on the verge of tears, voice cracking. Nadia did not look up. “We’re so so sorry we didn’t come looking for you, but we’re not disappointed - we’re glad we found you, Nadia, we -”
“Are you?” she asked, looking straight at Freya. Freya opened her mouth. And then closed it, pressing her lips into a thin line.
That’s what she thought.
Wright opened his mouth, presumably to soften the blow, but Nadia shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it,” she said quietly, lifting trembling fingers to tickle Vi under her chin.
“But, Nadia -”
“No.”
“You have to -”
“No.”
“Please, Nadia, just -”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Nadia knew that there were tears rolling down her face, dripping silently to be soaked into Vi’s cute little shirt that had a yellow sun and bouncing green frogs. Vi laughed and cooed, her tiny arms moving like windmills.
The tears dripped faster.
~#~
“What the hell was that, Freya?” Wright hissed, furious, as they relocated to the next room. They could still see Nadia, curled up on the armchair with Violette in her arms. Jasmine sat on a nearby couch, watching them both silently.
Freya itched with the urge to go back in there and snatch her niece from Nadia’s shaking hands.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Freya said through clenched teeth.
“Really?!” Wright snarled, “You just told her that you wished you got Damien out instead of her!”
“Damien is my brother,” Freya retorted, spinning around to glare at him, “Did you want me to lie?!”
“We would’ve appreciated it if you didn’t treat Nadia like an annoying pest you’d almost got rid of,” Richard said quietly.
“I don’t wish that we got rid of her,” Freya snapped, “And I don’t see how you can stand there and lecture me! We all thought she left!”
Richard and Wright both flinched, spasms of guilt crossing their face, and she knew the words had hit.
Wright sighed, and dropped into a chair, burying his head in his hands. “We haven’t found Damien,” he said listlessly, “And we’ve lost Nadia’s trust. We have no idea what futures she’s given Moreau.”
“We can just ask her,” Freya responded, still feeling needled.
“I’m sure that conversation will go over well,” Richard said dryly, “Or do you want her to actually leave this time?”
Freya didn’t respond, because she wasn’t sure. Sometimes, it felt like the seer caused more problems than she solved.
“I’m surprised, Freya,” Wright said, looking at her, “I thought you wanted to be a part of Vi’s life.”
Freya froze, heart hammering. “What does Violette have to do with anything?” she snarled more than asked, glaring at Wright.
Wright didn’t seem phased. “Nadia’s her godmother,” Wright said, and Freya realized the chilling implications.
“I’m her aunt!” Freya protested, but Wright ignored her.
“Marie’s dead, and Damien has lost his fucking mind. Who did you think had custody of Vi?”
Freya turned away from him, balling her hands into fists, because he was right.
“Fine,” she snapped, “I’ll play nice with Nadia.”
“I’m not sure that it’ll make a difference,” Richard said quietly. He was peering into the living room, at Nadia’s tear-stained face and painful smile as Vi giggled at something.
“I’m not sure she wants anything to do with us anymore.”
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A is for Amour || The Way The Cookie Crumbles (8)
Pairings: Slow burn Logicality, endgame Prinxiety
Word Count: 8k
Chapter Summary: Logan tries some sweet treats, which uncovers some truths that taste just a little more bitter.
Chapter Warnings: food, and... thaaaat’s about it. Think of this chapter as a nice, long reprieve from all the angst I’ve been putting you through :)
<< First Chapter || < Previous Chapter || Read this chapter on AO3
For all the comfort it offered Logan, the predictable routine of school could get awfully dull sometimes.
The first half of the day had looked exactly like any other. He’d arrived precisely ten minutes before the bell. Attended two hour-long classes, but between the two of them spent less than half an hour actually listening (he knew all the material already, why bother?).
Now, he was on his way to the most predictable part of the day yet: lunch, which he typically spent in the library studying instead of eating (Logan was a firm believer in the superiority of several small meals rather than three big ones). With a worn Science textbook in one hand, his sleek laptop in the other, and a dark blue water bottle clamped securely against his side, Logan could not have been following his mundane script more closely if he’d tried.
Until he turned the corner, that is, and almost ran straight into a boy coming out of the Tech and Home Ec hall.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”
All too quickly, Logan recognized the speaker. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s quite alright, Patton.”
“Huh…? Oh, hey, Logan!” As Patton spoke, a slight flush began to spread across his cheeks. Logan noted the colouration with curiosity; had he been running in the halls, or was there some other force at work here that Logan was somehow oblivious to? “Fancy seeing you here! I mean, what a surprise, am I right?”
“I don’t know if I would call it a surprise , per say, considering I do attend this school and all,” was Logan’s dry response. “That said, although I was expecting for the two of us to eventually run into each other here, I never thought that it would be in quite so literal a fashion.”
Logan didn’t realize his mistake until he saw Patton’s entire face immediately lit up with delight.
Oh sh—
“Did you just make a dad joke?”
“Never! ...Intentionally,“ Logan begrudgingly amended, cursing his sorry mouth. What had he been thinking, letting slip such foolishness as that? He was going to lose his student’s respect!
He made a mental note to confront his own dad about this later. The prolonged exposure to bad jokes must have finally begun contaminating his cognition; a hypothesis evidenced by, say, the strange way his student seemed to be vibrating before his very eyes.
Wait, no. Pushing his glasses up on his nose, Logan did a double take. That was no illusion. Patton was literally vibrating. What — how is that even physically possible?
While Logan puzzled over this new development, Patton continued to talk, and his words only confirmed Logan’s fears. “Man, this is so weird.” A good-natured laugh. “I mean, I knew that you had to have a sense of humour somewhere in there, obviously, but still. Hearing you make a joke in person like this? I never thought I’d see the day!”
The situation was not looking good. Logan could almost see his dignity disappearing, figurative grains of fine sand on a figurative beach, running through his figurative fingers at an alarming rate as he fumbled for a way to excuse himself from the conversation.
Or at least change the subject. It was with that thought that his eyes fell, for the first time, onto the plate in Patton’s hands.
Logan wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen — or, more importantly, smelled — it any earlier. Covering nearly the entire surface of the ceramic plate was a variety of freshly baked, delicious-looking thumbprint cookies, arranged artfully to resemble petals on a flower of some sort. In the centre of each cookie was a spoonful or so of what was undeniably Crofter’s. And judging by the richness of their aroma, these cookies had probably only just come out of the oven a few minutes ago.
Had Logan been years younger, he likely would have been salivating at the very smell. But of course, he was too mature to submit to such temptations now. Obviously.
With considerable effort, Logan tore his gaze away from the plate.
“I see you have still more cookies today,” he observed out loud. “Tell me, do you make it a habit to always carry baked goods with you?”
“Ah — yeah, heh, I just came from Home Ec,” replied the younger boy, almost sheepish as he followed Logan’s gaze. “Today was a baking day, and I got a little carried away and accidentally made too many, so I got Mx. Harper’s permission to borrow a plate and pass them out around the school.”
“Fascinating. I didn’t realize you enjoyed baking.” Logan’s eyebrows raised, genuine interest animating his features. “Is that a hobby that you often engage in?”
“Yeah, I think it’s really amazing what baking can do! Like, I wanna meet the guy who looked at a loaf of bread and thought — ” Patton adopted a gruff tone — “Ya know what this needs? More sugar and eggs!” He giggled, dropping the voice. “I mean, the ingredients are so plain on their own. Sugar, butter, flour… who woulda thought that they could work together to come up with something oodles better than what you started with? And then you get to eat it! Or else you get to brighten up someone else’s day with it, which is somehow even better. Who doesn’t like eating a whole bunch of sweet stuff, am I right?
“It’s a funny thing, really. You’d think that with all the measuring and stuff, I’d be nervous about getting numbers mixed up, but… it’s actually kind of the opposite. All the numbers that I need to see are marked up on the measuring cups or spoons, so I don’t have to worry about getting them wrong. I don’t even have to think of them as numbers! I just imagine I’m playing one of those memory games where you have to match — um, match cards with...”
Abruptly, Patton stopped, seeming to have suddenly become aware of himself. Eye contact broke as he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“No, no! Well, yes, a little bit, but it’s quite alright. Truth be told, I don’t mind,” said Logan, surprising both Patton and himself with his sincerity. He was actually enjoying Patton’s chatter today; he’d never before heard the simple act of baking described so vividly. And, if he was being completely honest — Patton’s passion was invigorating after such a monotonous day.
“Wait, really?” Patton cocked his head to the side, appearing as if he could hardly believe his ears. “I’m… not annoying you?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Logan watched as the hopeful gleam slowly returned to Patton’s blue eyes. ( Huh. Blue. Logan hadn’t even noticed how bright those eyes were until now; they were always obscured behind Patton’s glasses, he supposed.) The freckled boy opened his mouth. Closed it. Then, hurriedly, he opened it again and spoke up.
“If that’s the case, then...” Patton raised the plate slightly. “I was about to head into the foyer to hand these out, but since you’re already here, would you maybe want to be the first to give one of these a try?”
Why, Patton, how charitable of you to extend such an offer! Yes, I most certainly would like a thumbprint cookie, thank you very much. How did you know these are my favourite? Truly, what a kind and generous soul you are.
…is exactly what Logan did not say.
Though his immediate instinct was to say yes and grab one of the buttery, jam-filled sweets (it was Crofter’s, after all!), Logan was also acutely aware that he was very much not where he should be at the moment; he should have been seated in one of the library’s quiet work cubicles long ago, chipping away at a decently sizable pile of homework. But no — instead, he was here, chatting up a storm with this bouncing-energy-ball of a boy and throwing down dad jokes like there was no tomorrow. Taking a cookie would mean even less time spent being productive, especially since no food was allowed in the library. And hadn’t Logan already wasted enough time today?
Then again…
Logan supposed there was another way of looking at the situation, and that was this: seeing as Logan was already behind schedule, he might as well forget all about schedules and routines and so forth, if only for one day. Let himself take a breather. Enjoy a cookie for a change. In light of all the time he had already wasted today, taking off one or two minutes more to have a quick snack could hardly make that much of a difference, could it?
Still Logan hesitated in his deliberation over the age-old question: punctuality… or Crofter’s? It could go either way, really; Logan held both options in an equally high regard. Whatever decision he made, though, he’d have to make it fast — going back and forth like this was the least effective time usage of them all.
A tiebreaker, then, Logan finally decided. Pointing to one of the cookies, he asked Patton, “What kind of jam is that in the centre there?”
“That one, I think, is… hmm. Let me see.” Patton squinted. “I’m pretty sure that that one is blackberry and pomegranate.”
“Well then!” That settled it — knowing now that his favourite flavour was among the many types of jam, Logan couldn’t not take one. Passing up blackberry-pomegranate Crofter’s was simply not an option. “That’s very kind of you, Patton. I can assure you I’d appreciate nothing more.” So saying, Logan moved to snag a cookie off the plate.
…Before realizing, a little too late, that both his hands were full. Awkwardly, Logan tried to bend down so he could gently drop his textbook on the floor, but fumbled it in midair so it hit the ground with a heavy thump instead. As he reflexively reached for it, his water bottle slipped out from underneath his arm. Logan watched in exasperation as the rogue bottle rolled down the hall, carrying the rest of Logan’s dignity with it, before finally bumping to a stop several feet away.
Well, at least his hands were free.
Though his cheeks were burning, Logan was able to take comfort in the delicious-smelling plate of baked goods being presented to him. “Thank you very much, Patton, for your generosity,” Logan said, grabbing the cookie he’d wanted off the plate and trying hard to pretend that he hadn’t just made an utter fool of himself (again).
Patton, to his credit, had the good grace not to comment on Logan’s embarrassing moment. The younger boy beamed as he replied, “It’s no problem at all! I love sharing the food I make.”
That seemed to be the end of the conversation. With a nod, Logan went to scoop up his belongings, then turned to leave, eager to get out of there and put all of his recent buffoonery behind him.
He could feel Patton’s eyes following him as he went.
Sure enough, just before he turned the next corner to draw himself out of sight, Logan was stopped in his tracks by the sound of Patton crying out: “Wait! Wait, Logan, don’t go!”
Ugh, so close, Logan thought, debating whether he should pretend as if he hadn’t heard Patton or not. But he was starting to find that the boy was cleverer than he looked, and most likely wouldn’t be fooled — only hurt.
Logan turned to see Patton staring after him, one hand stretched out in his direction, mouth hanging slightly ajar. “I’m sorry, do you need something else from me, Patton?”
He was trying to keep the irritation out of his voice — he really was! But judging by the way Patton’s reaching fingers drooped, Logan couldn’t have been too successful.
“I just, uh…” Patton fumbled, seeming uncertain, as if even he didn’t know what had compelled him to call out like that. After a moment of stammering, he gestured vaguely at the cookie Logan now held. “I was... hoping that you could maybe take a bite of that right now. So I could get your feedback, you know? Because, um, I’m always looking for new ways to improve my baking, and… stuff. No pressure or anything, but I would —” In his doubt, Patton’s voice cracked. He coughed, then took a deep breath before completing his thought all in a rush of words: “I would really, really love to see what you think right as you’re taking the first bite, because that’s always the most genuine reaction. If that makes sense. I’m sorry, does that make any sense? Sorry.” As he finished speaking, Patton looked away with a slight cringe, as if already expecting a ‘no’.
Oh. That’s it? Logan’s shoulders lifted in an indifferent shrug — it was a simple enough request, after all — as he laid his belongings back down, save for the small thumbprint cookie at the core of all of this fuss and nonsense. “Very well.”
(The surprised smile he received in response was almost blinding in its brightness. Which seemed to Logan a disproportionate amount of excitement, but who was he to judge?)
With practiced precision, Logan bit the sweet treat almost perfectly in half to ensure the optimal jam-to-cookie ratio. Then, thoughtfully, he began to chew.
Understand, now: Logan was no food critic. But the young man had eaten enough thumbprint cookies in his life to know what he liked and what he disliked. And, well…
Patton’s baking, suffice it to say, easily fell on the “liking” side.
From what little Logan knew about the crumbly confection, thumbprint cookies were a relatively simple recipe to prepare. He’d even tried to bake a few of his own once. He’d set off the smoke alarm and startled his fathers half to death in the process, sure, yet still they had come out of the oven edible enough. The ingredients were simple, too: some butter. Brown sugar. Eggs. All-purpose flour, half a teaspoon of vanilla extract, a pinch of salt, a couple of walnuts for garnish, and of course, a spoonful (sometimes more) of Crofter’s jam in the middle of it all. Mix it all together, and bam! He had himself a delectable (albeit slightly burnt) dessert.
Patton’s cookies, though… they were on a whole other level. Objectively speaking, Logan wasn’t sure if it would be fair to call this ‘the best thumbprint cookie he’d ever had in his entire life’, but only because it was quite an impossible judgement to make; there were too many factors he’d have to take into consideration and at the moment, Logan cared to consider nothing more than the flavours of butter and vanilla and Crofter’s-blackberry-and-pomegranate jam exploding across his tongue.
The cookie was soft and powdery, but not so much so that there was no texture to it. The sugar levels were perfect — neither too sweet nor too bland. The vanilla extract underscored all the other flavours with a richness that was noticeable but not overpowering.
And the Crofter’s.
Good gracious, the Crofter’s.
Logan didn’t even remember putting the other half of the cookie in his mouth until he was already swallowing.
“So?” Patton’s voice, equal parts flustered, agitated, and excited, snapped Logan back to reality. “Is it — is it okay? Did I do good? Oh, no, wait, did I overdo the butter? I was worried about that but by the time I realized that I might have put in too much it was already mixed in and I couldn’t exactly reach in and pull it out of the batter anym—”
“Patton,” Logan broke in softly.
The boy seemed to choke. “Um. Yes?”
“I… That was…”
For the first time in forever, Logan found himself at a loss for words. Praise never really had been his strong suit to begin with; now, the ever-logical boy wasn’t even certain he possessed the vocabulary to describe what he was feeling inside. He cast about for adjectives, eventually landing on the first one to come to mind:
“... adequate. Thank you.”
For some reason, no sooner than the words left his mouth, Patton visibly deflated. Huh? Logan had given a compliment, hadn’t he? So why did the person on the receiving end appear so upset?
“Oh. ‘Adequate.’ Okay… There’s, um, there’s some room for improvement there, huh?” Patton said, managing a weak laugh.
Logan’s eyebrows shot up at the sound of it. “Ah, no — no no no. You misunderstand, Patton, I didn’t mean to imply your baking to somehow be ‘barely enough’. I thought it was delicious, actually. Very impressive.”
"Do you really mean that, though?”
“Do you think I would lie to you?” replied Logan. “I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. You have a remarkably high degree of skill. The jam-to-cookie ratio? Simply divine! And don’t even get me started on...” As Logan continued to speak, matter-of-factly listing off the good things he’d noticed as he ate, he gestured with his free hand to help articulate his points. And with every wave of his wrist, the dejected boy before him seemed to perk up a little more. Patton was positively glowing by the time Logan finished.
It took him a moment to find his voice, though. “Logan, I can’t believe…” And when he did, it was barely above a whisper. “That’s — that was so nice.”
Logan began to reply before stopping and squinting carefully. Were those tears in Patton’s eyes? “Patton, are you okay?”
“More than okay. I just…” Patton paused, composed himself. “You just caught me off guard; no one’s ever said so much about my baking. Or anything I do, really. So, it — um, it means a lot. Especially coming from someone like you.”
Logan wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Was he supposed to apologise? No, Patton appeared to be happy, if a little overwhelmed. So… what, did that mean, then? Should he try to come up with something else to talk about? Or perhaps he was supposed to exit the conversation now. He’d done what Patton had requested, after all, and Patton seemed to be satisfied with the results. Plus, if he wanted to get any work done this period, now was probably the time to do so.
(Ugh, Logan thinks. This is exactly why I try to avoid social interaction.)
Luckily, he was spared from having to make the decision when Patton went ahead and made it for him. Whether or not that was because Patton had taken notice of Logan’s unease, the older boy wasn’t certain, but he was grateful nonetheless.
The boy with the cookies gave Logan a crooked smile as he said, “I won’t hold you up any longer. You’ve probably got somewhere to be right now. You were on your way to the library when I interrupted you, right?”
Logan’s surprise must have shown on his face, because Patton chuckled. Balancing the plate of cookies on one hand, he pointed at Logan’s laptop and Science textbook with the other.
“I noticed you had a bunch of homework-related stuff with you, and since the library is really close to the Home Ec corridor, I thought…” He shrugged.
“I — well, you thought right. Quite an astute observation, Patton.”
“Didn’t think I was capable of drawing inferences like that, did ya?”
Logan blinked. “I’m almost even more surprised that you knew and accurately utilised the word inferences,” he confessed.
“I know big words too! Sssssaxophone…” Patton began to number off items on his fingers before seeming to remember what he’d been saying. “Anyway, I’ll let you go now, Logan. These cookies aren’t gonna hand themselves out.”
Logan nodded. A quick glance at his watch told him that if he left for the library now, he’d have just enough time to finish reading the textbook pages he needed to go over, and perhaps if he really hurried he would be able to get started on the review questions as well. “I suppose I’ll see you around then.”
“Yep! Uh, before you leave, though, did you maybe want to grab another cookie?” asked Patton. “Help yourself, I’ve got plenty. Enough that I probably won’t even be able to get rid of all of these by the end of the break, and I don’t think that Mrs. Lauren would like it very much if I showed up to Math class with a whole bunch of leftovers and nowhere to put them.” Patton held out the plate again as he spoke, genuinely hopeful. He wasn’t just offering out of courtesy, apparently; for whatever reason, Patton really did want Logan to have another one (or two or four).
And, looking at the wonderful variety of Crofter’s jam still on display and free for the taking, Logan would have hated to disappoint.
“If you insist…”
***
Silverware clinked against silverware in the Berrys’ dining room that evening, softly punctuating the amicable chatter drifting back and forth between bites of their meal. Well, it was mostly Logan’s dad who was doing the chatting, to be fair; his pop always had been the quieter of the pair.
That wasn’t to say that Logan and his pop never spoke, of course. In fact, every night, without fail, his pop would ask the same thing: “Anything interesting happen at school today?”
An invitation to talk. Not a command. His pop always gave him a choice, a fact which Logan was not ungrateful for; the amount of mutual respect between father and son in his family wasn’t exactly the norm, he knew, and he loved them dearly for it.
Most nights, Logan’s choice was to politely decline with a vague statement — no no, nothing much, same old same old... Neither Logan’s pop nor his dad would push for any more details after that; their teen kid needed his privacy, after all. The conversation would quickly return to Seth and Toby’s comfortable back-and-forth, with Logan occasionally jumping in where he saw fit, all the way until their plates were empty and their stomachs full. One of them would bring the dishes to the sink and wash them. Someone else would wipe the table. The last person remaining packed up the leftovers, and life went on as normal.
Not tonight, though.
At first, Logan hadn’t considered his lunch-hour conversation with Patton to be anything really worth noting; it was a break from his regular schedule, for sure, but the strange, stammering exchange didn’t exactly count as life-changing (although the cookies might have been). Yet as the day dragged on, he found his thoughts drifting back to that same conversation over and over and over again. It was only after the final bell of the day had already sounded that Logan understood why.
As gratifying as it had been to see Patton so pleased after receiving Logan’s feedback, the logical-minded boy couldn’t help but feel like Patton had responded with a disproportionate amount of enthusiasm when he took into consideration the minimal amount of praise he’d actually given. Patton may not have cried, but Logan could recall seeing tears brimming in Patton’s eyes and knew that the boy had definitely come close!
That said, though… just as he’d previously acknowledged, emotions were definitely not Logan’s strong suit. So had Patton’s reaction truly been an overreaction, or — as could very well be the case — was Logan just even less skilled at reading people than he thought?
In order to properly figure out what had happened at lunch, Logan would need a second opinion.
He could think of no better candidates than his fathers.
Logan trusted his dad and pop more than anyone else in the world. Both were incredibly clever people — not to mention compassionate, kind, and patient. If anyone could help him work this question of his out, it would be them.
So when pop asked Logan the usual question, anything interesting happen at school today?, Logan gathered his thoughts and responded, “Actually, yes.”
His parents hadn't been expecting that — Logan could tell from the way that the two of them paused, his dad’s fork still halfway to his open mouth and a stalk of celery speared on its tongs. Toby ignored it in favour of making eye contact with his husband. As something unspoken passed between them, Logan watched on in… not quite amusement, but something like that.
He’d always thought it curious that his fathers shared a strong enough bond to be able to hold full conversations using only facial expressions. In fact, had Logan not so often seen these conversations in action first-hand, he likely wouldn’t have believed it possible. With the English language — and indeed, any other language in the world — as intricately put together as it was, the idea that one might need no language at all to communicate seemed almost fantastical in nature.
And yet...
The first time that Logan had noticed his fathers staring silently at each other across the room like this, the then-much-younger boy had put down his toy train immediately and wandered over to tug on his pop’s sleeve. Pop, he'd asked, why are you looking at dad all weird?
To which Seth had scooped the boy up onto his lap, replying with an affectionate smile: Oh, we’re just having a little chat, little Lo.
No you’re not! You're not talking at all! Logan had insisted with a surprising amount of vehemence. If you're talking, how come your mouths aren’t moving, huh? You’re just making silly faces at each other, and that's that. He had sat up straight on his father’s lap as he finished talking, proud of his amazing powers of observation.
On the other side of the room, Dad chuckled. Well, yes, it’s true that usually people talk with their mouths, but your pop and I are special. You know why, Logan?
Curiosity piqued at the sly expression on his father’s face, Logan had asked, Why?
A conspiratorial whisper: Because we’ve got superpowers!
What? No way, those aren't real! ...Are they?
Are too. Your pop and I, we can talk to each other by using our brainwaves to send these, uh.... these super-special, super-secret mental messages. But don’t tell anyone, okay?
Dad, that’s so cool! I wanna learn how to do men… mint tall… minty messages, too! Logan had slid right off of his pop’s legs and bounded over to the other side of the living room as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him. Eyes wide and shining as he looked up at his dad, Logan had asked, Can you teach me how to do the minty messages?
In answer, Toby had reached out and hoisted his young son up to sit on the couch next to him, fondly mussing up Logan's hair a little before looking him very seriously in the eye. Are you sure you’re ready to learn, Logan? The ancient art of my minty messages is a very important practice that goes way back, all the way to your great, great, great, many-greats grandmother… Darth Vader.
He'd puffed out his cheeks. Come on, dad, be serious! he scoffed (as well as a four-year-old boy could scoff, anyway). You can't trick me — Darth Vader's not my granny. Or else we'd all have lightsabers and live on the moon. The boy nodded to himself, completely satisfied with his irrefutable logic.
You’re right, you’re right. Always keeping me in check, aren't you, pipsqueak? A loving pinch caused Logan to dissolve into a fit of giggles. When he calmed down, dad told him, Okay, you passed my test. I’m going to tell you the secret to sending my minty messages ...
Logan had held his breath as his dad bent down to whisper. The secret , he confessed, is love.
The young analyst’s face had instantly scrunched up in confusion. Love? How does that work?
Well, you see, piped up pop, jumping back into the conversation as he saw where his husband was taking it, your dad and I love each other very much — more than we love anything else in the entire world!
(Except maybe Halloween, Toby said under his breath.)
So we have a very special connection that lets us talk to each other even when we’re not saying anything. This is very serious magic, Logan. It doesn’t just instantly appear at first sight; it takes time, and it takes work. And it might be a long time before you meet someone willing to work for it with you, but don’t worry if that’s the case, kiddo — I promise that one day, you will meet someone who loves and understands you so much that you can talk to them with just one look.
Every connection looks different, by the way, added Toby. Your pop and I share one kind of love, but there’s a whole bunch of different types out there that are all just as good! Maybe the person who you grow close to will be a really, really good friend. Maybe they’ll be something a little different than friends. Maybe they won’t just be one person, but lots! Whoever they might be, though, your whole life is gonna change when you find ‘em.
And then I’ll be able to make the minty messages?
A fond chuckle. And then you’ll be able to make the minty messages. I promise.
Though Logan typically did his best to forget about how badly he’d butchered the word ‘mental’, those last sentences had stuck with the boy as he grew older. Through the years, he would find comfort in the promise of someday having someone by his side who he could talk to without struggle — who’d take the time to listen to him — who’d take the time to understand him.
Recently, though, he’d been wondering if maybe it was too good to be true… as someone inexperienced both in giving and receiving love, it was difficult to imagine any reason that anyone should put up with Logan for even a second longer than they needed to.
And yet in spite of it all, Logan knew he’d never stop hoping to meet someone who would care for him as deeply as his fathers cared for each other. Though he had long since stopped actively searching for a friend as true as the one his dad had described, he doubted he’d ever be able to shake the idea for good (so deep did Logan’s trust in his fathers run, he’d believe blindly and without hesitation even the most outlandish of promises coming from one of them).
In the meantime, though, Logan had someone else on his mind: not the best friend of his dreams, perhaps, but considering how glad they’d seemed to see him, they might as well have been. Logan waited for his fathers to finish their silent discussion so he could continue.
He didn’t need to wait much. With both dad and pop beyond thrilled to be granted this rare glimpse into their son’s thoughts, it wasn’t long before both sets of eyes turned to face him. “Well, go right ahead then. Tell us what’s on your mind,” Logan’s dad said, trying to conceal his eagerness by keeping his tone even.
It didn’t quite work, but Logan appreciated the effort.
“I saw my student Patton Foley at school for the first time today. During lunch hour. It… well, suffice it to say, it was an interesting encounter. And admittedly a little confusing.” Logan paused.
“Mhm?” Resting his chin in the palm of his hand, Seth’s thoughtful nodding prompted his son to go on. “And why’s that, huh?”
“Because it seems that each time I see Patton, he becomes a completely different person,” Logan began. “The way his personality just keeps rapidly developing so unpredictably, well… I can’t say it’s bad, but odd is a good word for it. The first time I met him at the library, for example, he was — how do I describe this?”
“With adjectives,” Toby supplied helpfully.
“Ah. Well then: disorganised, bothersome, and incompliant , to name a few. He had trouble focusing and listening, and was apparently unaware of what a nuisance his obnoxiously cheerful chatter must have been to everyone around us. It was only after I gave him a stern talking to that he managed to stay quiet for long enough that I could get out full sentences without being interrupted.”
His dad grimaced. “Sounds like a real piece of work.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought too. But you see, during our second session it was like he did a complete one-eighty. He listened attentively, but I barely heard his voice even once, besides right at the beginning of our session when he was apologising for being late. Which was nice at first, until it became apparent we’d wasted half the session because he was too shy to ask questions. I don’t think I saw him smile a single time either.”
“Huh… how about the third session?”
“Well, I didn’t get a headache for once, so interpret that how you’d like?” Logan shrugged. “I mean, he was very polite, which of course was an improvement. And he somehow managed to show up at the library even earlier than I did. His focus once we got down to business was unprecedented, he asked questions when he was confused just like I’d told him to do, he was… to put it simply, I don’t think it would be much of a stretch to call that specific version of Patton a ‘model student’. Where it came from, I haven’t the foggiest. I can only hope I’ll get to see it again.
“Then finally, there was today. I… still haven’t quite wrapped my head around today’s Patton, to be frank. He laughed freely, he seemed comfortable to just chat, and he even offered me some delicious thumbprint cookies that he had just finished baking! There were still moments where he appeared to be nervous, yes, but they were few and far between, and somehow felt different — like a completely separate kind of nervous. Mostly, he seemed to simply be… happy.”
At the last word, Logan’s pop perked up hopefully. “Well, that’s good, right?”
"Too happy,” amended Logan. “I mean falling-all-over-himself-with-glee kind of happy. I complimented his baking, sure, but hardly sugarcoated anything, so it seemed odd that he would take it to heart so much. That’s why I’m telling you all this, I guess — I’m hoping that you can help me figure the boy out!”
As Logan finished his explanation, he suddenly became aware his food must be growing cold. He hadn’t been expecting to talk so much, or for so long, but Logan supposed his words had gotten away from him and he’d begun…
Rambling.
Perhaps all of the prolonged Patton-exposure was having more of an impact on his behaviour than Logan had thought.
The good news was, neither of his fathers minded his long-windedness very much. Or at all, in fact. It wasn’t often that they had their son open up to them so thoroughly, and with so little prompting to boot. Seth and Toby intended to make the most of every second of this little advice session.
The bad news? Neither had any idea where to start.
Nevertheless, Logan’s fathers were determined to try. Toby began by asking for more details. “So… freshly baked cookies, huh?” he started, trying for a conversational tone (with dubious results). “Could I hear a little more about that? I mean, I kind of know what structure you guys like to follow during your tutoring sessions, but at lunch anything goes, so the only way I’m going to get an idea of what happened today is if you tell me directly.” Logan’s dad was careful to use phrases like could I and if you as he spoke, subtle reminders that Logan was under no kind of obligation to share any of these details if he didn’t want to. Sure, they would be helpful in ‘figuring out’ Patton, but Logan’s privacy and comfort was the priority here.
It turned out that Toby really had no need to be so careful with his word choice, though; amazingly, Logan didn’t hesitate before blazing right on ahead. He must be really determined to work this thing out, marvelled Toby. He couldn’t for the life of him remember the last time that Logan had spoken so freely about personal matters like this.
“Of course — today, during lunch, I was on my way to the library like usual to get some work finished early, but I had taken a detour and so I was a few minutes delayed.” Logan recounted the events of the afternoon so methodically, his dad couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been rehearsing this. “During this time, I assume, Patton was in his Home Economics classroom loading up a plate full of extra cookies he had just finished baking. I just happened to be passing by the Tech and Home Ec wing when Patton came out as well. We narrowly avoided collision, then naturally got to chatting as he recognized me, and I, him. It was then that I accidentally made a p—”
Logan’s eyes widened.
“I mean, uh…”
“Sorry, you accidentally made a what?” His pop’s head was tilted at a slight angle, the very image of innocence and curiosity. “I didn’t quite catch that last bit, you kind of trailed off.”
Oh my goodness, he’s really going to make me say it, isn’t he. Logan pressed his lips together, staring up at the ceiling as if it might provide some sort of escape from the hole he’d accidentally dug himself into, before ducking his head and shamefully finishing his sentence. “I accidentally made a… pun.”
The delighted gasp that followed, Logan couldn’t say he wasn’t expecting, but it certainly didn’t sting any less for it.
“You made a — Logan! That’s my boy!” On the other side of the table, Logan heard rather than saw his dad light up. “Grab the camera, Seth, this is a moment for the scrapbook. No, forget the scrapbook, I’m going to carve a plaque to commemorate this day! I’ll do it, I swear. Just watch me!”
“Yep, okay, thanks dad,” Logan sighed, very much wishing he could bury his head in the floorboards. “More to the point, that’s, uh, that’s pretty much how Patton reacted. He noticed it right away, even before I did, and just started laughing and laughing — but not in a mean-spirited sort of way. As if he was laughing with me, not at me, if that makes sense. Except I wasn’t laughing. But that’s not important.” Logan gave his wrist a flick, as if batting away the irrelevant dialogue. “Anyway, I wanted to change the subject after that. For obvious reasons. So I asked him about the thumbprint cookies on his plate, and he offered me one. And I was going to say no, really, since I had work to do, but — well, by then a pretty decent amount of time had already passed us by.” A brief pause. “Not to mention... they were baked with Crofter’s. So, you know, I could hardly say no.”
Both fathers nodded knowingly at that. (The fondness for the fruit spread ran in the family; had either of them been in Logan’s shoes, they would have done the same.) “Go on.”
Logan obliged, walking his fathers through the rest of the lunch period in a similarly systematic fashion. “...so there you have it,” he finally concluded. “I made some humiliating mistakes and gave him a compliment or two; in return, Patton very nearly cried with joy. I mean, who knew that such buffoonery would bear fruit so — so divine?”
“Bear fruit , huh?” His pop pointed a cheeky finger. ”Dad joke?”
“Never mind, this was a mistake.”
"Wait, no! I’ll be serious, I swear. Look, maybe, uh...” Seth trailed off as he realized he didn’t know what he was getting at. “Maybe —“
“Maybe the poor kid’s just so used to hearing you lecture him like a mean old teacher that a handful of nice words were enough to make his day,” supplied Toby, not too seriously. “Back off a little bit, eh? Else, he’s gonna start thinking you hate him, and you’ll have no one but yourself to blame...”
“Wh — Toby!”
“I’m joking, relax! Logan, you know I’m just joking, right?”
No answer.
“Lo?”
“Actually...” Logan began.
Because joking or not, there was a ring of truth to his dad’s words.
Maybe he was being too hard on Patton. It made sense: earlier today, Patton had said that Logan’s compliment meant a lot ‘coming from someone like you’. Logan hadn’t quite understood the implications at the time, but…
Someone cold. Someone distant. Someone unfriendly, someone who never even gave friendship a thought, someone who spat in the very face of it. Someone like me. That was how he was perceived by most people, wasn’t it? Which, up until now, had been all well and good with him.
So why did the thought that Patton might share the same sentiments make him feel so bad?
Before Logan could answer that question, his dad’s concerned voice broke into his thoughts. “Logan? Logan, bud, please don’t be mad, I really was just messing with you! I didn’t mean to imply I know how to do your job better than —”
“What I was going to say was, I think you might be onto something, dad,” Logan interrupted.
“I... huh? What do you mean?”
But once again, there was no answer. Logan was already deep in thought as he picked up his fork to resume eating, effectively ending the conversation — much to the very vocal confusion of his dad.
(His husband eventually quieted his loud protests when he laid a hand on his shoulder, quietly murmuring, “Give it up, love, you won’t get through to him like this. Look.” Seth nodded to their son. “See? He’s already tuned you out. You know what happens when Logan gets an idea in his head; he just takes it and runs with it, that boy does, and…”)
Something in his mind clearly set Patton apart from others, Logan knew; now, if he could only figure out what , perhaps he’d have his answer.
Well, he knew who he was in Patton’s eyes, at least. Maybe it was time to reflect on the reverse.
Where Logan was cold, Patton was warm. Logan was distant; Patton, approachable. Kind. Willing to change. Friendly, and really genuinely interested in making friends, it seemed. In other words, Patton was —
Everything I wish to be —
— everything Logan was not, that is. And wasn’t that just something strange?
(Nodding, Toby finished his husband’s sentence: “…once he’s in the zone, there’s hardly anything that can get him out,” he said, laughing a little at himself. “You’re right. As always. How do you do that?”)
This could nicely explain why Logan felt he wasn’t being as effective as possible in his teaching, as well. He’d been approaching these sessions all wrong; he’d been teaching based on how he’d like to learn, rather than what Patton actually needed.
Logan was a student of measurements, after all — of facts, and figures, and careful calculations. But when it came to Patton, he could only guess. And guess what?... Logan did not like guessing games.
He’d need to, though. He’d need to figure out Patton’s own learning style, instead of trying to force the boy to conform to his own, if he ever wanted this tutoring arrangement to work.
(Seth shrugged. “It’s pretty simple, hon, I just spend less time talking and more time watching. I mean, how lucky am I to have a husband who can take care of the chatter for me?”)
And to do that, Logan would need to step way out of his own comfort zone. How could he ever properly understand his student if he wasn’t willing to contribute a little companionship himself?
Efficiency be damned — Logan was going to do his job, and he was going to do it properly. And if that meant he’d need to put in a little extra work to figure out how to achieve a healthy balance between both schooling and sympathy, then so be it!
(“Goodness gracious me, you really are perfect,” sighed Toby. “Promise me you’ll never change.”)
To be quite frank, Logan probably should have drawn this conclusion a lot sooner. Had he not only recently been reading those fascinating articles about positive and negative reinforcement?
In Patton’s specific case, yes, achieving a close and intimate emotional connection was without a doubt the best way to create an ideal learning environment because of how emotional the boy was — but the strict and unkind way that Logan had been approaching his sessions wouldn’t have worked even if he had been paired with someone much less touchy-feely, he realized now.
Time and time and time again it had been proven that when it came to motivation via either offering a reward for good behaviour and threatening a punishment for undesirable behaviour, the reward almost always worked out better for the subject in the long run. Didn’t that mean that praising a student when they did well would be ultimately much more effective than scolding the same student for failing to understand a concept?
(Seth scoffed in disbelief. “Me? Perfect? Ha!” He leaned in as if sharing a sensitive secret. “Have you even looked at yourself?”)
It was all so clear. The conversation that he’d had with Patton during lunch today only served as further proof that —
(“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re clearly the superior one here.” Toby and Seth’s faces were very close together now. “And I’ll bet you anything that you’re the better kisser, too.”)
Ahem. Further proof that Logan’s teaching methods were —
(“Oh, is that right. That’s an awfully bold claim, you know… are you sure it’ll be able to follow through?”)
Were — were due for some —
(“Why don’t we put it to the test and find out —?”)
Unable to stand it any longer, Logan suddenly slammed his fork down. “Dad! Pop!” His parents pulled apart with a jolt. “Can’t you at least wait for me to leave the table? Your son is right here, you know.”
Toby rubbed his knee, which had smacked against the bottom of the table in his surprise, while Seth gave their son a guilty smile. “Right. Sorry, Logan. I, uh, guess we forgot ourselves for a second there?”
Rolling his eyes at his fathers’ antics, Logan scraped the last bit of food off of his plate to ensure that nothing was wasted. “May I be excused? Immediately.”
“Of… of course,” responded Logan’s pop, still a little sheepish. “Don’t worry about the dishes; your dad and I are going to stay here and finish eating at our own pace, so you can just wash your own plate and we’ll take care of the rest.”
Translation: Your dad and I are going to stay here and probably make out with each other over the table as soon as there’s a wall safely separating us from you. Logan made a face — how shameless they are, he thought — but did what he was told without complaint.
Later, once he’d found a seat on one of the many beanbag chairs in his bedroom, Logan returned his focus to the topic he’d been reflecting on before his fathers’ antics had distracted him. Positive and negative reinforcement… Ah, yes.
The conversation that he’d had with Patton during lunch today only served as further proof that Logan’s teaching methods were due for some change. After having seen firsthand how positively Patton reacted to praise, perhaps Logan ought to give a little more of it during his next session. It couldn’t hurt, right?
Wrong, Logan realized. The increased effectiveness of his teaching was going to come at a price, and a hefty one at that: in order to achieve all that he was setting out to do, he would need to come face-to-face with — ugh —
"Feelings, the bane of my existence,” Logan grumbled.
***
[next chapter]
General: @surleytemple @starryfirefliesbloggo @icecoldparadise @lyditist @fandom-random2405 @beach-fan @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @starryeyedhomicide @unring-this-bell @flix-net @pheonix-inside @thelowlysatsuma @residentanchor @sanderstalker
AAmour: @romanticsanders @thatrandomautist @mirror2thespirit @pokii-jonas @basicmillennial @starlitparfait @littleladynightshade @insert--self--hatred
#logan sanders#patton sanders#logicality#prinxiety#sanders sides#spectral scribbes#spec made something#A is for Amour#aamour#tw food mention#tw food
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listen to me — chapter 46
LISTEN TO ME — 0046
listen to me masterlist;
WORDS: 1.7K
Hyoyeon closed her eyes and allowed herself to doze for the first time since sitting on one end of the small sofa in front of Jisung's bed. Her elbow resting on the arm of the soft furniture supported her cheek against her hand. The rings on her fingers bothered her, but she was so tired that the little red marks on her skin made no difference, nor did the sunlight streaming through the half-open window reflect weakly on the opposite wall.
It was about nine thirty in the morning and Jisung hadn't yet woken up. Hyoyeon had been there for a long time, waiting for him to finally open his eyes, but the fatigue of a sleepless night began to truly affect her, sometimes dispersing her focus. A nurse visited the room, hours earlier and offered coffee and some cookies along with a polite request for her to lie down and get some rest, but Hyoyeon just accepted the disposable cup and claimed to be fine. Now, however, it was more than apparent how much she needed at least one pillow to avoid the stiff neck the bad position would give her if she insisted on staying at it any longer, even though her last will was to open her eyes and abandon her own short and fragile moments of sleep. Anyway, those moments were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Hyoyeon jumped in place and was forced to straighten when she noticed the presence of a nurse, or perhaps a doctor, she didn't know.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the girl apologized. Although her vision was slightly blurred from sleep, Hyoyeon assumed the girl was about the same age as Chan and Woojin. She was of medium height, had blond hair, and in her lab coat was a sign with the name Jung Jinsoul written on it. "I just came to know if you don't want to go to the bathroom or eat something. I'll stay by the kitty's side," she referred to Jisung with a minimal shake of her head as she said the last sentence. Her tone was so casual that Hyoyeon didn't even know if she was being pretentious or not, but the highlight was that Hyoyeon couldn't take the urge to go to the bathroom anymore.
"I need to go to the bathroom," she got up without question, determined to use the bedroom's own toilet. Her feet, however, stopped midway and she looked at the girl before saying: "Take good care of him, I'll be right back."
"Yes, ma'am." Jinsoul waited for Hyoyeon to close the door to approach the bed. She kept her arms crossed for the seconds her eyes traveled over Jisung's slightly injured face; finally, she let out an audible sigh. "It wasn't enough that pretty girl, now you too... What a sin, my God."
And as if Jinsoul's tiny intonation was the last thing left to penetrate Han's mind and finally bring him back from unconsciousness, Jisung's eyelids fluttered and he slowly opened his eyes. The natural light bothered his pupils for the next second, resulting in a grimace followed by a brief moment of dispersion until he noticed the serum needle stuck in his skin and the bandages on his shoulder. The intense pain spread through his head as memories of last night took shape. Jisung, then, ignored any discomfort as he quickly lifted his body and sat on the mattress.
"Take it easy, kitty," Jinsoul warned, though she made no attempt to approach to try to stop him. "You're fine, but not so much."
Jisung ignored her too and looked around the room. When he saw that no one else was there — at least not in his field of vision —, he had no choice but to ask the doctor: "My girlfriend, do you know if she's okay?"
Jinsoul parted her lips to answer, but was intercepted by the sound of the bathroom door being opened. Hyoyeon walked in quick steps and sat in a free space of the bed, then wrapping her son's face in her hands and checking to see if he was really well.
"Is something hurting, my love? Do you want me to call your doctor?" she asked, distressed. However, the last thing Jisung cared about at the moment was his health.
"Mom, I need to see Jinah" he took her hands off very gently, but Hyoyeon knew it wasn't rude. An almost palpable anguish was explicit in every trace of Jisung.
"You can't, baby. For now, the visits haven't been released yet."
"But she's fine, isn't she?"
Hyoyeon rubbed one hand in the other, unable to sustain Jisung's urgent look. There was a slight bruise on his cheek and a small bandage on his forehead, the latter almost hidden by his hair, and never had something so simple captured the woman's attention in such a crucial situation, although she only wanted to focus on anything but answer that question.
"Mom!" he insisted, becoming even more agonized over the delay.
Hyoyeon pressed her lips into a thin line and, finally, nodded yes. "She's fine, just needs a lot of rest," she lied. Her initial intention was not to deceive him, but she feared that Jisung wasn't well enough to deal with the truth. "And you too, lie back down."
"It's a lie" he found the obvious. "You don't even have the guts to look me in the eye to say that!"
Hyoyeon fumbled all over. She had about three seconds to make up another lie — one more convincing this time —, but acting under pressure was far from one of her skills. But if any bullshit would come out of her mouth when she opened it again, Hyoyeon would never know, because, before that, Jinsoul intervened:
"It's better to say it all at once. He'll find out anyway."
One part of Hyoyeon wanted to be irritated by the doctor's intrusion, but the other part knew she was absolutely right. Handling a time bomb seemed a thousand times easier than admitting the inevitable.
"Promise me to be calm?"
"Just say it!"
"I figured you would answer that" with one last breath, Hyoyeon let the tension fade. She took Jisung's hand and wrapped it in a warm squeeze, intrinsically saying that no matter what, she would be there for him. "Jinah fell into a coma, dear," she said lightly and tenderly, pausing for her words to be absorbed. "I'm so sorry, for real."
She waited, but saw no change in the boy's expression for the next few minutes. Hyoyeon didn't know how long they had spent in the same absence of reaction, but, after what seemed like hours, he swallowed and painfully clenched his jaw. Their irises darkened and the fragile glow, just present in them, faded away, replaced by something much harder and sharper — that's when Jisung locked himself inside.
Hyoyeon felt his hand break away from hers. She was supposed to hug him, but, she didn't have the guts again. Of all the returns, this was what she least expected to receive, because, in all her life, Hyoyeon had never seen Jisung look so cold.
"Do you want to see her?" Jinsoul broke the heavy silence. However, not even her tempting suggestion was able to avert Jisung's impassive eyes from the white wall in front of him.
"I thought she couldn't receive visitors for now," Hyoyeon retorted, somewhat confused. Jinsoul just shrugged.
"I'll find a way."
Jisung answered nothing. His mother was startled when he took the serum out of care, got out of bed and put on the cotton shoes the hospital offered to the patients; then, he opened the bedroom door and left. Hyoyeon shot an insulted look at Jinsoul, who shrugged a second time.
"I'm just a physiotherapist, Mrs., Han," she replied and spun on her heel, also leaving the room. "Wait for me, kitty, I'll show you where it is."
The road to the ICU wasn't very long. Hyoyeon joined them at some point and had to work hard to keep up with the pace of the walk — reminders that she was no longer in her twenties being thrown at her face as her breathing grew more and more unregulated. She could only breathe normally when they entered the elevator, but not two minutes passed before the metal doors opened on a less crowded floor. Every room had a glass opening in the wall, so that people passing down the hall could see part of what was happening inside. Since most of the blinds were closed, Hyoyeon could see only one gentleman in one of the beds, until Jinsoul shoved her hands in her coat pockets and stopped in front of a completely uncovered opening.
"I can't let you in, but..." is already something. The physical therapist left the rest of the sentence in the air and waited for Jisung to approach.
Heart pounding, almost shrinking to a halt, Han shortened the distance from the glass and felt his legs go strong as gelatin as his eyes fell on the single bed. He snorted almost imperceptibly, and his rigid posture barely collapsed into a million insignificant shards.
This wasn't his Jinah, couldn't be.
The always smiling, mischievous face was purple and swollen thanks to the amount of bruises on her skin. Her equally injured arms were filled with bandages and threads that controlled her vital signs, the latter connected to the various devices against the wall. There was also a serum holder and a blood bag, as well as a thick tube attached to an inhaler mask that covered her mouth and nose.
Jisung tightened his grip on his jaw and stepped back, not crying, not showing himself even more useless than he had the night before.
He shouldn't have drunk, shouldn't have asked Jinah to drive instead, shouldn't have let her driving even noticing that the car was behaving strangely, and worse: Jisung shouldn't have been so weak when he tried to stop her to sacrifice for both of them, but he was, and now it was late.
For Jinah, he didn't want to continue to feel like the most failed person in the world. He was trying hard not to cry or to fall into utter despair — at least on the outside, since inside Jisung crumbled and the rubble seemed endless. He didn't need an exam to make sure his heart was bleeding, the absurd pain in his chest was more than enough. Stunned, he took one more step back, and his trembling legs almost gave way before he could muster a little strength to get away from it for good.
Jisung already felt as if he had lost her; consequently, he also lost himself.
#stray kids#skz#stray kids au#skz au#stray kids angst#stray kids fics#skz fics#stray kids fluff#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#stray kids reactions#skz reactions#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#skz smut#stray kids smut#multifandom#bang chan#woojin#minho#changbin#hyunjin#han#jisung#felix#seungmin#jeongin#kpop#kpop au#listen to me
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i could let you go if i wanted to (1/1)
Summary: Between the two of them, Beca is the hasty one on the phone. She never lingers or dawdles, but with Chloe, she makes exceptions. Or 5 times Beca calls Chloe and one time Chloe calls Beca.
A/N: This was inspired by my friend @summersailedin who essentially prompted me to write something else, then I decided to do something completely different. Sorry bud.
Some mention of drinking here. I don’t encourage drinking nor do I discourage it. I think everybody should be able to make their own decisions about whether they want to drink or not (at an appropriate, legal age). In short: don’t shame people for wanting to drink a little now and then and don’t shame people for never wanting to drink.
Song is “glisten (interlude)” by Jeremy Zucker.
Word count: 2585
Read on AO3 or below.
–––––––––––
But I could let you go if I wanted to
And I don't know these roads but I know you
Called you here just to watch you cry
That's life when you compromise
Cause I could let you go if I wanted to
Beca gets chatty when she drinks. For Chloe, it’s a little amusing and mostly concerning to see Beca’s walls come crumbling down right before her eyes.
It makes Chloe want to protect her more than ever because a vulnerable Beca is the last thing Chloe wants, though that particular notion is in conflict with Chloe’s desires because she wants to get to know Beca so much more than she did before.
“Woah,” Chloe says. She catches Beca when she stumbles. “Easy.”
It’s a typical end of year party – now also doubling as a celebration of the Bellas’ victory over the Treblemakers at the ICCA Finals.
Beca is drunk .
Chloe is so cognizant of that fact, so she focuses on making sure Beca and all the Bellas are safe.
Besides, she’s not expecting Aubrey to take on that role - Aubrey, who is happily talking Amy’s ear off.
Aubrey deserves some time off.
“So, you and Jesse?” Chloe asks, leaning over the counter to pour some beer. She swirls it in with some Sprite. A hasty radler. “Glad that worked out.”
Beca peers at her over the rim of the red solo cup she’s nursing, like she’s scrutinizing Chloe. Chloe is not unfamiliar with such a look, having been on the receiving end of it multiple times over the year. “Yes,” Beca finally agrees. “Me and Jesse.”
“That’s great,” Chloe says lightly.
“Aubrey’s rule was dumb.”
“A little dumb,” Chloe agrees.
“I like Jesse.”
Chloe ignores the unpleasant sensation in her stomach. “You do.”
Beca scowls, then. “Stop...repeating everything I’m saying.”
Chloe tilts her head to hide her smile behind her cup. “I’m not, though.”
–––––––––––
Incoming call:
Beca Mitchell
Duration: 3:41
–––––––––––
“Chlo,” Beca says softly. “Chloe, I have something to say.”
“Okay,” Chloe says, pausing in her facial care routine. “Do you need me to come back? Where are you?”
“No,” Beca says quickly. “I’m back at my room. I just.” She heaves a breath.
Chloe glances at her clock, wondering if she should just hang up - wondering if Beca even knows that she called. She has her dumb Russian Lit final the next day.
“I like you,” comes the whispered confession.
Chloe isn’t stupid enough to construe that as anything but romantic because Beca doesn’t mince her words. Doesn’t play with meaning. Still–
“You do?” she blurts.
“Yeah, I mean, it was kind of obvious.”
Was it? Chloe thinks to herself.
“I...like Jesse too.”
“Okay,” Chloe says.
“I’m sorry,” Beca continues, speaking as if Chloe hadn’t interrupted her.
Chloe thinks of the future and all that could hold for her. She thinks of life without Beca - thinks of life where Beca could choose her, but it’s so hard to materialize and so hard to conjure up in her mind.
“Would you have chosen me? In any scenario, would you have chosen me?” Chloe asks finally after at least a minute of quiet breathing.
Maybe it’s a little unfair because Beca is barely eighteen, verging on nineteen. She’s young and has her entire life ahead of her – has so much to look forward to. Beca is also intoxicated and this could prove to be the worst kind confession if Chloe isn’t careful.
“I...I don’t know,” Beca says, mumbled like she’s been chastised.
Chloe knows she isn’t safe. She actually thinks she isn’t anybody’s first choice when it comes to this kind of thing. Boys usually only want her because their first choice was emotionally unavailable and she’s there to catch the overflow of hurt ego. Girls rarely choose her first – they’re always intent on late night hook-ups.
Chloe isn’t sure what about her invites that, but Beca is not the first to not choose her.
Somehow, she’s fine with that. Somehow, she chooses to hold on.
“That’s okay,” Chloe says faintly.
It kind of happens during one of Jesse and Beca’s break-up. They break-up frequently enough that Chloe’s never really sure of Beca’s relationship status. She just knows that she never wants to be the other party to a cheating scenario, no matter how much it kills her that Beca consistently stillchooses Jesse over her.
Jealousy and guilt taste a little like wine, especially as it slips across her tongue by way of Beca’s lips on hers.
“But–” Chloe starts to say.
“We broke up,” Beca says quickly, making equally quick work of Chloe’s jeans. She grunts in frustration when she fumbles in pushing them down over Chloe’s hips. “About two weeks now.”
They’ve been dancing around this for the past two and a half years. This being some kind of back-and-forth pining. Chloe’s too afraid to come within close distance of it.
Beca’s too stubborn.
They’ll never meet in the middle, unless you count the way Chloe’s hands start at the center of Beca’s body, making her cry out her name into the empty Bellas house.
It is of course, no surprise to Chloe that Beca doesn’t call her once when she leaves for Spring Break the next morning. Chloe busies herself with cleaning the kitchen and the hallways, ignoring the way her heart pounds when she passes her own bedroom.
–––––––––––
Missed Call:
Beca Mitchell
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Okay, so she does call. But she doesn’t leave a voicemail and Chloe figures that’s enough to sum up their relationship.
She never finds out what Beca wanted to say.
Jesse and Beca get together again and again, but with each passing break-up it’s less and less serious.
Chloe keeps her distance.
–––––––––––
Incoming call:
Beca Mitchell
Duration: 0:53
–––––––––––
“I think we should live together,” Beca says immediately when Chloe picks up her phone.
She almost freezes completely, but remembers that she stayed late at the gym and perhaps flying across the room right off the treadmill wouldn’t be the best way to celebrate graduating (finally).
“What?” she asks for clarity. She hits “pause” on her work-out, touching her headphone to make sure she’s listening carefully. Looking at the time, she sees that it’s only 9:45 in the evening and that the Bellas would have probably started up their party about half an hour ago. She’s late, but she’s been consciously avoiding Beca.
“I think we should live together,” Beca repeats, like that’s enough. There’s some rustling and then crunching, like Beca’s eating cookies or chips. She sounds alert and steady. “Is that okay?”
“In New York,” Chloe asks just to clarify.
“I promise I’m a good roommate.”
Chloe isn’t sure what drives her to make this decision.
“Okay, yes.”
I have nowhere else to be.
–––––––––––
Incoming call:
Beca Mitchell
Duration: 40:31
–––––––––––
It’s all harsh breathing for a little while.
That’s the first thing Chloe hears when she picks up the phone.
“Hello?” Chloe asks again, concerned. She tries to wipe the dredges of sleep from her eyes. A quick glance at the clock tells her that it’s just past two a.m. and she could really use more sleep.
Beside her, Chicago stirs.
Guilt coils in Chloe’s gut.
Returning to the limp phone in her hand, she presses it closer to her ear, her heart beating intensely for some unknown reason.
(A very known reason, actually.)
Chloe figures (hopes) somebody misdialed.
“Chlo,” Beca’s voice sounds softly.
“Beca,” Chloe replies, sitting up.
“Why’d you kiss him?” Beca rasps down the phone.
A million reasons float through Chloe’s mind. She could tell Beca everything – how long she waited, how long she so desperately desired Beca.
What she thought of at night.
What –
The way Beca had felt against her, like a phantom memory.
Instead, she’s just tired and the late hour has little to do with it.
Instead, it’s a different kind of time. Time has a funny way of making a person realize their own self-worth and she was just tired .
None of that comes out however. Instead, Chloe finds herself pulling on her shorts and t-shirt. “Are you drunk?” she asks. She pulls the hotel room door closed behind her, wincing at the quiet click. “Where are you?”
“Here,” Beca says cryptically. Chloe twists, wondering if Beca is somewhere down the hallway.
“Beca,” she says, warning in her tone.
Beca mumbles something in discontent. “Amy’s room,” she says, finally. “Her balcony’s really nice.”
Chloe counts the doors – three of them – and knocks lightly. She pushes on the door a little, noting with horror that the door was barely closed properly, so it gives way easily. She lowers her phone when Beca twists from where she’s standing on the balcony.
“No,” Beca calls quickly, still holding the phone. “You weren’t–” even in the low light, Chloe can see the frown on Beca’s face. It would be cute if Chloe weren’t so concerned. “You weren’t supposed to come. Get back on the phone.”
“Get back on the phone,” Chloe repeats, lifting her phone slowly.
“I have to tell you something,” Beca says. She makes her way back into the room, leaning on the door for support briefly. Chloe notes that Beca doesn’t necessarily look (or smell) drunk. She just looks kind of tired. Exhausted.
Her hair falls in curls around her face, messy from how she had been done up for her performance. She’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans.
“What did you have to tell me?” Chloe asks, leaning carefully against the dresser. “Why are you in Amy’s room?”
“She wasn’t using it for the night.” Beca sits heavily on the bed, leaning back a little on one arm. Chloe’s eyes track across Beca’s relaxed posture. “Why did you kiss him?”
“It’s complicated. Why do you care?”
Beca groans, echoed and amplified by the phone.
“I slept with him,” Chloe blurts, unable to keep it inside any longer.
Beca’s breath picks up for a moment and Chloe thinks there’s something cruel about pretending that all she has to hear is Beca’s auditory reaction. Instead, she has to see it as well – has to see Beca’s confusing display of hurt and pain and every other emotion that flashes across her face.
“That’s not an answer,” Beca mumbles.
“I kissed him because I thought I was…” Chloe trails off. “I thought you and I weren’t…”
“You and I weren’t…?”
Something about this Beca seems emboldened. More confident.
“I can’t do this on the phone,” Chloe says, swallowing nervously when Beca stands from the bed and takes two steps closer to her. Her hand lowers of its own accord and she very well could drop her phone, with how numb she feels.
“Why not?”
I think you know why.
“He and I aren’t anything. We’re not together,” Chloe finally rushes out in a whisper. “I told him as much before we–”
She actually does drop her phone when Beca’s hands find her hips surely and confidently and she’s pulling Chloe in for a kiss.
They forget about their phones, until at some point during the night, Chloe pushes Beca back against the bed and they both kind of end up sitting on Beca’s phone, ending the call effectively.
They don’t sleep together that night - and they actually don’t again for a while.
But it’s enough - it’s enough that Beca finally chooses her and wants her.
Chloe has waited long enough.
–––––––––––
Sometimes Beca calls Chloe for no reason at all now. Just to say that she misses the sound of her voice.
Countless phone calls pile up and just like that, they’re that couple who spends too much time on the phone.
Mostly due to Beca’s job, but still.
–––––––––––
Missed call:
Beca Mitchell (4)
Voicemail (1):
Beca Mitchell
–––––––––––
“Chloe, I’m so sorry. You know I hate it when we fight. I didn’t mean what I said. I love you so much and I’m really so sorry about everything. You deserve the world and I’m going to do better. You don’t deserve a distant girlfriend who messes up all the time. Please call me back.”
Relationships are hard, especially lived through the phone.
Chloe thinks that it’s tiring to play phone tag with her girlfriend, but eventually she grows to become accustomed to having a famous girlfriend. An in-demand girlfriend.
Beca is steadfast, however. Beca is loyal and loving. And she chooses Chloe everytime, without Chloe having to ask.
–––––––––––
Incoming call:
Beca Mitchell
Duration: 15:53
–––––––––––
“Are you trying to have drunk phone sex with me?” Chloe asks, amused.
Now she’s awake.
“Maybe,” Beca says. “Though I’m not drunk.” A pause. “Drunk on you , maybe.”
“Okay, you’re at least tipsy,” Chloe says laughing. She stretches, leaning back in their bed. “What are you up to, Trouble?”
“Thinking about how much I miss you. And what you taste like.”
Oh.
Chloe raises her eyebrow. “Really?” Unconsciously, her hand drifts to her midsection, conscious of every last sensation, like how her clothes feel against her gradually warm skin. “Do you miss what I taste like?” she asks, battling past the flush that rises in her cheeks.
“I was just thinking about it,” Beca says casually, like she’s talking about the weather. “But I could miss it.” Her breathing increases slightly as she shifts. “Whenever I think about you, I miss you.”
“I’m right here,” Chloe says softly.
“I know.”
“But,” Chloe says, directing their conversation back to more interesting territory. “What were you saying about missing me?”
“I miss the taste of your skin. How soft you are. The feel of your lips against mine. That thing you do with your tongue when you’re going down on me.”
Chloe fumbles with her shirt. “I’m hanging out. Get on Facetime.”
Beca gasps like the thought never occurred to her. “ Facetime ,” she repeats, in awe. “God, I love technology.”
And she hangs up without a word.
Incoming Facetime Video:
Beca Mitchell
Chloe grins.
–––––––––––
Incoming call:
Chloe Beale
Duration: 1:51
–––––––––––
“Hey!” Chloe exclaims. “Hey, Bec.”
“This has to be bad luck,” Beca says immediately.
“No, I’m pretty sure that’s if you see the bride before the wedding.” Chloe smiles. “Well, send me a picture then.”
“No! I mean – Aubrey would kill me,” Beca says in a harsh whisper.
“So it’s not you who’s superstitious suddenly.”
Beca scoffs. “No, just want to make sure your best friend doesn’t skin me alive.”
Chloe clicks her tongue. “So vivid, Bec.”
“Oh yeah?” Beca’s voice lowers nearly an entire octave as she whispers. “What’s vivid is what I dreamt last night. You’re very talented, Beale.”
“That’s Beale-Mitchell to you,” Chloe corrects, skimming over the way her body heats at Beca’s words.
“This is our last phone call as an unmarried couple,” Beca says lightly.
“I can hardly believe it,” Chloe says dramatically.
“Same,” Beca replies, though it’s softer and with more motion.
God, she loves her .
“I love you,” Chloe says after a pause. “I love you so much and I can’t wait to see you.” She stifles a giggle. “ Wifey .”
Beca gasps. “Not yet. ” Some rustling. Chloe tries not to think about how beautiful Beca probably looks in her dress. “This dress is suffocating me. The things I do for you.”
Chloe snorts.
Beca sighs. “I love you. So much.”
Chloe cradles her phone to her ear, wanting to remember this forever. “Say it again,” she implores.
Clear as day, no static whatsoever, Beca responds as steady as ever. “I love you, Chloe Beale. And I cannot wait to marry to you.”
end.
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May 27 Dancitron Movie Night - Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack
Winning the prize for Best Movie Title Ever.
Prowl was distracted by the city destroying scenes. As he often tends to be. They’re inclined to wake up Devastator.
Primus made Soundwave an offer that Soundwave wildly misunderstood. Prowl didn’t hear the beginning of the conversation—due to the aforementioned distraction—but what he did hear made him wildly uncomfortable.
And now he and Soundwave are both wildly uncomfortable.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 7:39 PM
Soundwave can't seem to get the twins to stay calm long enough to get the three of them down the stairs in a neat and organized manner. The promise of mass destruction has got them bouncing and arguing in a way few things can. He'll be lucky to make it to his couch without a new dent.
Please. Please, for the love of Primus, do not let there be Dinobots tonight. He doesn't think Dancitron could take it.
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 7:46 PM
How about a Jazz though? Can Dancitron handle that.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 7:48 PM
Multiple Jazz's actually.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 7:48 PM
Soundwave's so tempted to turn around and walk back upstairs. He really, really is.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 7:48 PM
And what about a Smokescreen? With some more cookies?
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 7:48 PM
Well, he's here, early-ish for once.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 7:49 PM
...He'll stay to try the cookies. Smokescreen has to get them right sooner or later. But only as long as the Jazzes don't get to them first. They'll probably bug them or something. He would.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 7:49 PM
No promises, Soundwave. About the dinobots.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 7:50 PM
Damn it.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 7:50 PM
"So what's the movie tonight?" Jazz is looking around, taking stock of new mechs.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 7:50 PM
((starting in 25 so grab your snacks and your dinners and all that ... jazz))
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 7:51 PM
Least he can keep Dancitron nearly indestructible for the night while present?
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 7:51 PM
Be nice, Primus.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 7:51 PM
(( snickers))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 7:51 PM
//It's one of them city stompin' movies!//
\WITH THAT ORGANIC TRYPTICON.\
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 7:52 PM
[[ oof y'all start so late.... ]]
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 7:52 PM
The cookies are getting there! The consistency is solid, and there isn't too much salt or quartz this time. It looks like Smokescreen put a bit of silver in this time. He's even heading towards Soundwave, offering a couple!
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 7:52 PM
[GINO version?]
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 7:52 PM
((dangit i wish i grabbed cookie mix from the convenience store now i want to actually make some
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 7:53 PM
((i love GINO version but no not him))
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 7:54 PM
[I love that you know what it means.]
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 7:55 PM
Soundwave reaches out to pluck one out of Smokescreen's hands before Smokescreen can get too close. He's already been crowded enough by excitable mechs; he'd rather not have Smokescreen bouncing in his space too.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 7:59 PM
Fair enough! Once Soundwave takes one, Smokescreen takes a few for himself, before setting them on the snack table and throwing himself at the emptiest looking couch.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 7:59 PM
Prowl Appears, and takes a seat in his usual spot.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 7:59 PM
"Mind if I try one, smokes?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:00 PM
Munch, munch. Hmm. This... is actually tolerable. He'll give Smokescreen a big nod. [[Not bad. Thank you.]] And one more for the seat before he plops down next to Prowl.
The twins are on their couch. The twins also happen to be jumping. The couch is, apparently, a trampoline in disguise.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:01 PM
"You actually liked them?" Smokescreen is perking up, ready to practically bounce around, but managing to keep himself mostly still, wiggling his pedes in excitement. "What was your favorite part? And your least favorite?"
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:02 PM
Going to make a tiny adjustment to the materials of Dancitron as he walks in. It was to save Soundwave from any damages future Dinobots may cause; assuming they even arrive, better safe than sorry. Even the couch could have the twins beating each other with couch cushions and they'd end up being damaged instead. Well... Assuming they got that rough. Jumping was fine. Still no damages. He'll reset the internals to normal afterwards.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:02 PM
[[You've balanced the flavor well, they're not too crumbly, and he got a taste of his favorite additive. It's a pleasant little treat.]]
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:03 PM
"Silver, huh? I'll have to keep that in mind for later! I'm glad you liked 'em. I'll try to keep up the good work!"
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 8:03 PM
Hey look, it's a familiar face. From long, long ago. Ratchet's gonna scoop up a handful of cookies on his way in and then collapse on... inny, minny, miny, twins' couch it is.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:03 PM
Greeting ping to Prowl. He's already leaning. It's been such a long day, dear amica. He's had Frenzy shouting in his audio since Rumble picked the movie.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:03 PM
((Wondering if one jazz will recognize the other. Also Hey derring is it fine if I still do the reply to that one starter I never answered? I sort of forgot about it with school stuff.))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:04 PM
Ravage looks over the bar, suspicious. Something smells different about the room... he'll figure it out later.
\RATCHET!\ // Ratchet!// Trying to sit with them is a mistake. They're 100% going to try to convince him to bounce with them. Mostly by grabbing his shoulders and jumping.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:05 PM
Never fear. Prowl is here to be sensibly quiet and non-shouty.
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 8:05 PM
[[ i'm not even on tumblr anymore lmao gomen gomen i'm in a state of permanent exhaustion and i can't even handle jazz for a half hour tonight, switched to ratchet because he too is a Tired Man ]]
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:05 PM
((Ah))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:05 PM
In Soundwave's opinion, that is a priceless personality trait. He could not value it more if he tried.
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 8:06 PM
Okay that was loud. Ratchet might have forgotten just how loud Frenzy gets. It's been a long time okay.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:07 PM
Glances at Blaster. Fine. No bananas.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:07 PM
Going to go over to Primus then. Better not have any fruit.
WindchillToday at 8:07 PM
Windchill and his spawn are here, perhaps unfortunately, as they both immediately take note of the wild bouncing by staring. That was...promising.
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 8:07 PM
Is the couch bouncy? If the couch is bouncy he will allow himself to be bounced along with them but he's not doing any jumping himself tonight, he is Collapsed.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:07 PM
Squint.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:07 PM
He's still cleaning out his desk
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:07 PM
This is his fault why?
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:07 PM
Prowl sends Ratchet a greeting ping. It's been a long time.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:08 PM
The couch is bouncy in a way that does not do damage to said couch, courtesy of Robot God.
Frenzy gives Rebel and company an overly enthusiastic wave of varying heights.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:08 PM
You gave him the idea.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:08 PM
((7 minutes get yo shit))
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:08 PM
Lies.
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 8:08 PM
Ping ping back, yes it has.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:09 PM
Jazz is trying to decide where to sit. Ratchet and twins or next to Blaster and a stranger.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:09 PM
NO
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:09 PM
Huff.
WindchillToday at 8:10 PM
Alas, Windchill is too huge to get in on the bouncing action, in his mind at least.
Rebel, on the other hand...
"You guys!" She runs over to check it out, her head bobbing up and down to track every bounce. "What's going on?"
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 8:10 PM
..... oh, right.
"Hey, kiddos. Evening, Prowl." And a casual salute to Soundwave, since it is his place after all.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:10 PM
There. Now. No fruit.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:10 PM
What about vegetables?
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:11 PM
......gonna go with no
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:11 PM
Hrmph.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:11 PM
\GONNA SEE SOME COOL SLAG\
//Monster fights!//
[[...They're excited.]]
Soundwave offers Ratchet a ping and a nod. Thank you for putting up with their nonsense. He knows how much it is. Try not to get sick on the floor.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:11 PM
Aw, no fruit? Not even a few berries like peppers or avocados?
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:11 PM
Shhhh, don't give him ideas
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:11 PM
((also i have one (1) brief thing to show post-movie so don't run off the very second it's done))
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:11 PM
Too late.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:12 PM
Damnit
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:12 PM
Jazz is curious."what's the deal with earth plants?" That cinches it. He's sitting with Blaster and stranger dude
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:12 PM
Have a bowl of berries, Smokescreen. They're perfectly edible.
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 8:12 PM
"Oh yeah? What monsters? Anyone I know?"
Monster fights are basically once a week in Ratchet's neck of the woods.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:12 PM
"Don't give him ideas."
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:12 PM
TOO LATE.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:13 PM
Smokescreen doesn't even know what the deal with bananas are. It had never been so peaceful for him when the banana incident happened.
Oooh! Fruit! "Thank you, Primus! I love you!" Smokescreen's taking a handful. Hopefully, it will be fine on his tanks!
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:13 PM
Half his base got turned to wood. Thanks.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:13 PM
[[Some Earth plants are... dangerous. Best not to speak of the details. It gets--mm. Fuzzy.]]
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:14 PM
They might look organic, but they're fine on cybertronian tanks. And hi. Waves at Jazz.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:14 PM
"Really? Really?" thin ice buddy.
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 8:14 PM
(Ratchet, by the way, is chomping down on those cookies he picked up earlier. Between bounces. Let's all cross our fingers he doesn't choke.)
WindchillToday at 8:14 PM
"Ohhhhhhh." She's got her hands on the back of the couch, doing her own bounce from the floor.
"Like...Godzilla kind? We've been marathoning those." Rebel leans forward to whisper. "That mostly means me, dad sleeps through 'em."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:15 PM
//Uhhh, Godzilla, Moth... somethin', King What'sisname, an' Bar... Bag... an' a little reddish guy.//
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:15 PM
"Hmm, haven't gotten to explore Earth enough to run into anything like that yet" He's waving hello to the unknown mech.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:15 PM
\PFFFT. HE GOT NO TASTE\ About Windchill, less conspiratorially. That's as whisper as it gets.
((ROLLING))
WindchillToday at 8:15 PM
She squints. There's only a few reddish guys she can think of.
Chill might hear, he might not, either way he's not responding and takes a seat instead.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:16 PM
Offers some berries to the two mechs by his side.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:16 PM
Primus, he swears, you keep this up and he's gonna need more than Sunstreaker's help with medical.
Elita OneToday at 8:16 PM
Elita's here just in time for the start of the film. So exciting.
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 8:16 PM
"Ah. Godzilla. Never met him myself."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:17 PM
They stop jumping for a second. //Wait. You got him in your Earth?//
WindchillToday at 8:17 PM
Rebel intakes LOUDLY.
"It is!"
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:17 PM
Just because Harbinger acts like that does not make it his fault.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:18 PM
Jazz is going to scrutinize the berries. Then pop one in his mouth
WindchillToday at 8:18 PM
Rebel climbs over the back of the couch, like the space invader that she is.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:18 PM
((warnings are in the rabbit window for y'all also, if you need 'em))
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:18 PM
Uh-huh
WindchillToday at 8:18 PM
She is not going to miss a second of anything involving Godzilla.
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 8:18 PM
Shrug shrug shrug. "Why not? He's probably around. Just, like I said, he's not one I've met."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:19 PM
They both offer her a high five.
//Listen. LISTEN. You gotta... you gotta send us pics. If ya do.//
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:19 PM
And he's gonna try a berry, just to see.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:19 PM
\DOES HE DO AUTOGRAPHS?\
//No, stupid. Earth don't got pens that big.//
WindchillToday at 8:19 PM
Luckily, she has two hands to spare the moment she's sat on her (still red,) butt.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:19 PM
Smokescreen's bowl of berries is never ending if anyone wants some.
Just going to pat [noteatdiscord] Blaster.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:20 PM
Smokescreen will test the "never ending" status and will stuff his face full of berries.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:20 PM
He'll at least be very messy.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:20 PM
He's fine with that! He's a messy, messy bot.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:21 PM
((i appreciate that godzilla and mothra are both ® but king ghidorah only gets a ™))
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 8:21 PM
"Sure, I can get some image captures if it happens. Or maybe a, a piece. If one happens to fall off."
Elita OneToday at 8:21 PM
((The King and Queen deserve respect.))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:21 PM
((lmao))
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:21 PM
((he's a king but he's no top tier kaiju))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:21 PM
((this is where all the battles come from))
//Oooo... a piece. I want a piece.//
WindchillToday at 8:22 PM
"There wouldn't be a village, though?"
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:22 PM
......he's not going to comment on that.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:22 PM
Watching Smokescreen make this life choice.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:23 PM
Smokescreen makes many life choices. Trying to pour an endless supply of berries directly into his mouth is certainly one of them!
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:23 PM
"If Godzilla came there'd be the ruins of a village to visit"
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:24 PM
((intimidating horns on those guys))
((honk honk))
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:24 PM
"Glitched Jokesters"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:25 PM
//Huh, we got loads of ruins here. Don't stop bots goin' to 'em.//
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:25 PM
Smokescreen. Smokescreen no.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:25 PM
Smokescreen yes!
WindchillToday at 8:25 PM
Rebel leans forward. Which beast is this?
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:25 PM
Apparently.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:25 PM
wow
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:25 PM
Should stop him...
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:25 PM
"It probably prevents the original inhabitants from visiting. Due to the, you know, deaths of them."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:26 PM
\....OH, HUH.\
//Good point.//
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:26 PM
Probably should.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:26 PM
"Hey smokes? You sure that ain' too many?"
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:26 PM
Smokescreen is starting to have some regrets as he gets covered in berries, but doesn't no when to quit. "Nah, I think this is almost enough!"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:27 PM
//Maybe if they got away first. Then they could go back. .... Gotta make a new house I guess.//
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:27 PM
"Smokescreen. I think that's a bit over enough..."
WindchillToday at 8:27 PM
"A drill...rocket. Okay." Rebel isn't sure whether to find it cool or just unconvincing.
Chill perks up. He, too, has a big head and big mouth.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:28 PM
"Is it? Is it, really?" Smokescreen finally slows down, starting to eat the ones around him. He'll stay to help clean up tonight.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:28 PM
"Yeah...you kinda tried to cover the couch with them."
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:28 PM
And he thought Unicron was a bottomless pit.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:29 PM
"No, no, I was just trying to eat 'em! I was pretty hungry when I got here."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:29 PM
Frenzy sighs. He wants a drill rocket. It'd be cool to shoot his drills at people.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:30 PM
"I think those statues are important."
WindchillToday at 8:30 PM
Windchill squints.
Ratchet (partyhardmedic)Today at 8:30 PM
[[ these assholes deserve whatever happens to them ]]
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:30 PM
Just...gonna gesture to the couch.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:30 PM
((hard agree))
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:30 PM
((yep))
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:31 PM
Rubber drill rockets? Soundwave probably wouldn't approve of the real ones.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:31 PM
Given that Soundwave would find it convenient to be able to shoot his own hands places, you never know.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:31 PM
"Is she... overenergized?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:32 PM
[[Rather.]]
[[Hah.]]
WindchillToday at 8:32 PM
"Too much talking, not enough monsters." Rebel crosses her arms.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:33 PM
Hmm. Maybe he'll send the schematics to Soundwave to decide when/if they're deserved.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:33 PM
[[He's very happy about that, isn't he.]]
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:33 PM
"I kinda wanna be put in a cocoon..." He's continuing to stuff his face full of berries.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:33 PM
Is either the best Creator or the worst.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:33 PM
"the puppy's okay, at least."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:33 PM
[[This isn't that type of club, Smokescreen.]]
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:33 PM
"Maybe he doesn't know how to use his face."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:33 PM
[[Hm. Possible.]] Nodding.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:34 PM
"Wait, what? Are there "Cocoon Smokescreen" clubs now?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:34 PM
[[No. He was saying--never mind. Watch the film.]]
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:34 PM
"No, no, tell me- what were you saying? I'm listening, Soundwave." Smokescreen may have a smug, smug smirk.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:34 PM
[[Nothing.]]
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:35 PM
"Why japan though?"
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:35 PM
Snicker.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:35 PM
"Cocoon? What's that got to do with clubs?"
WindchillToday at 8:35 PM
"Pfft."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:35 PM
[[Nothing.]]
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:35 PM
"... Does your Cybertron have those types of clubs yet? NOT Smokescreen-related clubs."
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:35 PM
"Nothing at all? If you say so, Soundwave." Smokescreen's slowing down on his berry consumption. Maybe it really is endless! "Primus, can I hold onto these berries?"
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:36 PM
Hands up. Okay, okay, he'll stop asking.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:36 PM
"Going to share them with friends?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:37 PM
[[There is supposedly a small one near the remnants of Vaporex. He does not know its schedule.]] Yet.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:37 PM
"Yeah! Friends! I've got some parties on my Cybertron to host and all." Smokescreen could feed every Cybertron with these, couldn't he? No one would ever be hungry!
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:38 PM
He still wants to know what type of club they're talking about.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:38 PM
"Go ahead then. Your friends will certainly enjoy them."
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:39 PM
"Thank you, Primus!"
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:39 PM
"Hm. Let me know when you find out more about it."
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:39 PM
"really?"
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:39 PM
"Also, it looks like they're about to have a pet Godzilla! Lucky."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:39 PM
[[He will work to be able to do so.]]
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:39 PM
"as a pet?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:39 PM
//Pffft. Ain't a leash big enough for 'im.//
WindchillToday at 8:39 PM
"Ewww!"
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:39 PM
((we've got a whole boat full of godzilla stans in here))
WindchillToday at 8:40 PM
Rebel makes gagging sounds.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:41 PM
....oh. That kind of club? Red Light.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:41 PM
"... Godzilla doesn't wear hats though"
WindchillToday at 8:42 PM
"They're dead." Chill and Rebel both nod sagely.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:42 PM
Still, going to turn to Primus on this one. Literally turn.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:43 PM
Looks down at him. "Club?"
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:43 PM
"I've heard rumors of a club opening in my Iacon. I haven't heard anything about its quality yet, though. But we also haven't received any police calls about it, which is a good sign."
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:44 PM
"Yeah. I'm still kinda curious, what type are they referring to?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:45 PM
[[He will hope that you do not get any calls before you find out more, and returns your request.]]
\THAT'S A LONG BOAT.\
//No it ain't. Longboats're different.//
\NOT A LONGBOAT. A LONG BOAT.\
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:47 PM
"Hopefully a well run and maintained brothel."
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:47 PM
"and the people targeted were those destroying things"
"He's over 50?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:49 PM
//I dunno. Human ages are weird.//
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:49 PM
"....oh. But, cocoon? Like what, in blankets?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:50 PM
\NAH, NAH. IT'S A BUG. LIKE TARANTULAS. SAME STUFF, THAT, UH.\
//Silt.//
\YEAH.\
WindchillToday at 8:50 PM
"Butt silk?"
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:50 PM
"Silk?"
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:51 PM
"Tarantulas isn't a bug, though!"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:51 PM
//Then how come's he got all those legs?//
\YEAH! SILK.\
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:51 PM
"How come you got all those legs? Are you a bug too?"
WindchillToday at 8:52 PM
Rebel cackles.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:52 PM
Rumble points and laughs. //He's SHOOTIN' at it, Primus below--//
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:52 PM
"Is that what godzilla looks like?"
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:53 PM
"Is this gonna be like Shadow the Hedgehog? Where everyone thinks the monster is Godzilla but it's actually someone else?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:53 PM
\THINK SO.\
WindchillToday at 8:53 PM
"NO."
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:53 PM
Prowl vaguely overhears Primus's conversation and realize he's probably talking about THEIR conversation. "No, Iacon's got two brothels now. Both outside of Metroplex's city walls. I'm talking about the BDSM club inside the walls."
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:53 PM
"You could be cocooned in a blanket. There are also ropes, silks, chains, or a mix depending on your interest. Or, in the case of arachnid mechs, the silk they create to be far tighter and, I suppose, more personal."
Yes hi, Rumble. Snrk.
WindchillToday at 8:54 PM
Windchill shakes his head. He's slept through enough Godzilla films to know that wasn't it.
"Wasn't handsome enough to be Godzilla."
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:54 PM
Smokescreen perks up when he hears BDSM club, but then realizes who says it. He'll have to look it up later!
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:54 PM
Okay, now that term goes over his helm with room to spare.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:54 PM
The twins begin jumping up and down again.
WindchillToday at 8:54 PM
"There he is!" Rebel gives a fist pump.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:54 PM
"ah that's godzilla."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:54 PM
//Pit yeah it is.//
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:54 PM
"Godzilla looks like he'd be good to hug."
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:54 PM
Looks over to Prowl. "You've been?"
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:55 PM
((all i can hear is the softest "raaaah"))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:55 PM
((SAME))
Elita OneToday at 8:55 PM
((it was me. i was the raaah))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:55 PM
//F for that fragger plowed into the boxes.//
\F.\
WindchillToday at 8:56 PM
"F?"
"F." Windchill salutes.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:56 PM
"F."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:56 PM
((godzilla bein a dick lmao))
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:57 PM
"oh that's not nice"
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:57 PM
Still. Making a face at Primus. "Rather not."
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 8:57 PM
"Legends don't burn down villages."
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:57 PM
"Not yet. We've received some calls about one of the brothels, though. I certainly didn't answer them myself." He's the captain, he's got office stuff he has to do.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:57 PM
//You don't gotta be good to be a legend.//
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 8:58 PM
Pats Blaster.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:58 PM
\YEAH. I'M A LEGEND.\
//Ah, frag off.//
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 8:58 PM
"why are you screaming? You're drawing attention."
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:58 PM
Confused noises.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:58 PM
[[Shock, presumably. No sensible decisions in that state.]]
WindchillToday at 8:58 PM
"Well, someone's hella dead."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:58 PM
Soundwave glances at Prowl. [[Someone harmed?]]
[[Or just someone protesting bots having more fun than them?]]
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:00 PM
"Most recently, a drunk customer that refused to leave when the employees told him he was too overcharged to be served. We escorted him out and towed him home."
((raaaah))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:01 PM
//Ah, quit screamin'. Ya went right over him.//
WindchillToday at 9:01 PM
"That's the ugliest unicorn I have ever seen." Windchill turns up his noseless face.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:01 PM
[[Towed him? That IS overcharged.]]
//I'd mourn them too but they was dumb for standin' around.//
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:02 PM
"Hrm... I might check out the one within the walls, Prowl. Been ages since I've ever seen a good show in person." Chuckle. "Assuming that is part. If not, well, see the selection. Must be decent to be there."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:02 PM
((raaa))
WindchillToday at 9:02 PM
"Eheheh! He just broke through the mountain!" Rebel clasps her cheeks.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:02 PM
//Fancy landscapin' work.// Nudging Rebel.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:03 PM
"They are awfully blase for a national emergency"
WindchillToday at 9:03 PM
"It happens all the time."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:03 PM
\THAT'S CAUSE THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND IT. WENT 'N FORGOT ALL ABOUT THE FIRST TIME.\
WindchillToday at 9:03 PM
Rebel uses her elbow in retaliation.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:03 PM
Soundwave quietly pokes Prowl. @P: [[Apparently, Primus IS a dom. Or a voyeur, at least.]]
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:04 PM
Technically?
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:04 PM
@S «People DO tend to assume gods are 'all-seeing.' It would makes sense that they like to watch.»
WindchillToday at 9:05 PM
Rebel vibrates with excitement. Of course Godzilla is winning.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:05 PM
"this sounds like wrestlin'"
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:06 PM
You two can speak to him directly, you know. Primus is stroking his chin in thought.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:06 PM
//...We're supposed to want the li'l red guy to win, yeah?//
\DON'T CARE. CHEERIN'.\
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:06 PM
"If you go before me, let me know what kind of safety and hygiene standards it has in place. If it's a shady location I can save myself the trip."
((raaaaaAAAAAAH!!))
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:06 PM
"Want any other information?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:06 PM
[[If it has cameras or not.]]
//You like wrestlin', Jazz?//
((run, bb. climb like hell))
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:07 PM
So confused
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:07 PM
((CLIMB FASTER))
WindchillToday at 9:07 PM
"Ohhhhhhhh."
Rebel whoops.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:08 PM
"Sometimes for watchin'. Not 'xactly my fightin' style though."
WindchillToday at 9:08 PM
"Whoaaaaaa."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:09 PM
Frenzy whoops loud enough to wake the dead.
[[Frenzy! Tone it down, at once.]]
\...SORRY, BOSS.\
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:09 PM
"Willing recording is good. No consent recording, I might 'disable' them until Prowl or another officer arrives."
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:09 PM
Winces.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:09 PM
\SORRY, PROWL.\
//You ever watch the-- wait. You're from-- hey, your world got gladiatin' arenas?// To Jazz.
WindchillToday at 9:10 PM
"They been failing miserably at that so far," Rebel chortles.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:11 PM
"Not any more. they were a form of glorified executions."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:11 PM
//Yep. Yep.//
WindchillToday at 9:11 PM
Now she's clapping, this one has to be Mothra. Not as cool as Godzilla, but cool enough.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:12 PM
"If it's privately-owned and not run as a hotel—no night-long rentals—the property owners have the legal right to covertly record, provided that the recordings are automatically purged within a week. But if they are recording and that isn't disclosed, that would DEFINITELY fall under the 'shady location' category."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:12 PM
//Wonder what humans think's essential.//
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:13 PM
Nods. "Alright. It would be very easy to check that."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:15 PM
//How do ya think she gets in that big ol' cocoon anyhow?//
\I DUNNO. SORTA--\ Frenzy folds his arms over his chest and spins in a circle. \MAYBE? BUT, LIKE. ON THE FLOOR.\
WindchillToday at 9:15 PM
Rebel turns to point at her dad. Jets lose to Godzilla. Remember that, sir.
He doesn't seem concerned.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:16 PM
Excited nudging. At least from the twins.
Soundwave's mouth twists to one side. [[...Tarantulas doesn't do this, does he?]]
WindchillToday at 9:16 PM
"Pretty sure cocoons are made from spit," he adds.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:16 PM
((oop make that a @P))
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:16 PM
"oh she's pretty"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:17 PM
//Spit? That's gross. ... An' cool.//
WindchillToday at 9:18 PM
Chill nods.
"Bugs use spit for...all sort of things. Pretty nasty."
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 9:19 PM
"It's Primus!"
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:19 PM
Confused noise. What's him?
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 9:19 PM
Mothra!
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:19 PM
@S «Make cocoons? Not that I've ever seen.»
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:20 PM
"oh. she's not just pretty. she's gorgeous." Jazz has a crush on the moth.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:20 PM
What. Wasn't watching the movie.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:20 PM
@P: [[Good. He does not think Tarantulas would look good with such wings.]]
And really, he's enough of a threat without also being able to fly.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:20 PM
Welcome to the bugfucker club, Jazz.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:21 PM
((chokes))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:21 PM
((AHAHA))
WindchillToday at 9:21 PM
It's a growing organization
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:21 PM
At least four members and growing, now.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:21 PM
Spreads out a wing. Is this why he's like Mothra?
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:21 PM
((i like how baragon didn't even make it into the title of the movie))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:21 PM
((nobody appreciates poor poor baragon ;; ))
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 9:21 PM
Smokescreen nods. He's all mothy and protects the smaller bots!
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:21 PM
((all the way down to a third tier kaiju))
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:22 PM
Primoth
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:22 PM
No. Bad. Bad god.
\HAHA. I LIKE HER.\
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:22 PM
((although it's not like he hasn't fragged insectoid aliens before))
WindchillToday at 9:22 PM
Windchill spits.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:22 PM
PRIMOTH
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:22 PM
Primus. Primus no.
WindchillToday at 9:22 PM
"I'm going to remember that line."
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:23 PM
Primus yes
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:23 PM
Don't you dare
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 9:23 PM
Primoth!!
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:23 PM
Bad
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:23 PM
Don't you argue with God. >:|
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:23 PM
//Kick his aft!//
\KICK HER AFT!\
WindchillToday at 9:24 PM
Rebel pumps her fists.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:24 PM
Somewhere a tiny moth was awakened.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:24 PM
When the God is going to get into trouble, he freakin' will.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:25 PM
((WHOOP i forgot about that))
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:25 PM
Everyone loves Primoth. You know this.
WindchillToday at 9:25 PM
"He could just shoot her down like he did those jets before." Rebel, it seems, is thinking too much into it.
"There we go."
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:25 PM
Shhhh
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:25 PM
Jazz is rooting for Mothra
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:26 PM
Blanket for Blaster. You shh.
WindchillToday at 9:26 PM
"Woooow!"
"Hey!" Rebel points. "There's Godzilla's hat!"
"He had one after all."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:28 PM
//Looks like Bird sittin' on Swoop.//
WindchillToday at 9:29 PM
"Or Swoop sitting on me." Windchill nods. A lot of sitting happens around here.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:29 PM
\BOTH'S GOOD.\
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:29 PM
((No! the dragon))
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:29 PM
OI!
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:30 PM
Going to casually scoot away from Blaster while he's distracted.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:30 PM
Flailing and attempting to get the blanket off.
WindchillToday at 9:30 PM
"Zombie-eyed Godzilla wins again!" Rebel is pleased, even if it won't last.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 9:31 PM
Smokescreen waves to Primus, offering a "free" seat next to him. It's full of berries, still, but it's otherwise free!
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:31 PM
"Is she okay?!" Jazz will be spark broken if mothra dies now
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:31 PM
//Dunno, mech.//
WindchillToday at 9:32 PM
"So much for those drill rockets..."
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:33 PM
He's good, Smokescreen. Going to scoot around behind the couch that Prowl and Soundwave occupy. Leans against the back and casually drapes his wings over the armrests. Hello.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:33 PM
(( is mothra pulling a Jazz style self-sacrifice?))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:33 PM
Soundwave glances up and prods one wing, confused. What's all this about, then.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:33 PM
Prowl starts, automatically scooting to the edge of his seat. He was focused a little too hard on the movie during the city battle.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 9:33 PM
Awww. Smokescreen looks around, before staring at Windchill. "Hey, Wind, you want some berries?"
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:34 PM
((check out that CGI))
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:34 PM
Jazz is a little spark broken now
WindchillToday at 9:34 PM
Windchill was squinting at the fairy dust on screen, but gets that feeling he's being stared down.
"EH?" Now he squints in suspicion.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:35 PM
It's all right, Jazz. It was for a good cause.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:35 PM
Apology, Prowl. Didn't mean to do that. Just came to say hello and say, telepathy and all, that he could indulge Soundwave in his interests if he asked. Assuming Soundwave was curious about that.
WindchillToday at 9:36 PM
"I'll be surprised if there's anything left to save at this point," Rebel huffs. They're not doing a very good job!
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:36 PM
Okay, blanket off now. He's just going to fold it up and huff at the god.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:36 PM
...Well THAT'S a hell of a thing to hear, isn't it?
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:36 PM
"But I liked her"
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:36 PM
Soundwave did tell Prowl his observations.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:36 PM
//Can't all of 'em live. Anyway, you could still like her.//
WindchillToday at 9:37 PM
"She's in other movies. None of these guys stay dead," Rebel chimes in. It's all right, she's seen a bunch of these things.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:37 PM
He's a bored God that really doesn't get out enough.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:37 PM
"So I can still meet her?"
WindchillToday at 9:38 PM
Rebel shrugs. She doesn't know about that.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:39 PM
"I wanna visit one of those universes so I can meet her."
WindchillToday at 9:40 PM
She's gonna make a real skeptical face at that, but back to the film.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:41 PM
Soundwave will, uh... keep the offer in mind. Yyyyyes. It's a little-- that seems kind of... Look, he's new to this believing in gods business, but isn't that kind of presumptuous of a mortal? Wanting that kind of thing? It sounds like that to him, anyway.
[[She's a diligent reporter, going out in such a circumstance. He does not know many who would stay instead of fleeing.]]
[[Or at the very least, filming from a much greater distance.]]
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:41 PM
((soundwave please you've seen astrotrain macking on primus))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:42 PM
((and he's never once thought it classy))
//Nice shot, aft.//
WindchillToday at 9:43 PM
"Which side is this guy on?"
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:44 PM
Raises an optic ridge. Soundwave, you hoard everything about him or things he's messed with. By terms of how he's now here, one could say you've been the most 'intimate' already. Besides... Are you embarrassed? He's completely open and chill about this sort of thing.
Primus is going to embarrass the heck out of Soundwave in front of Prowl.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:44 PM
"So the dragon gets two resurrects?"
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:45 PM
Prowl is Completely and Totally Oblivious.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:45 PM
\SURE. THE STONES GOT SPARKS IN 'EM. UH, HUMAN ONES. IF HUMANS GOT SPARKS.\
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:45 PM
That's a lie and he knows it.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:46 PM
No. Prowl is genuinely that oblivious.
After all, if he knew his amica were being embarrassed, he'd try to rescue him. Sorry Soundwave. You're on your own.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:46 PM
((lol))
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:47 PM
Oh. Well in that case!
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:47 PM
\...WELL, THAT ONE'S DEAD. THEY'RE ALL FRAGGED.\
Rumble hums a funeral song.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:47 PM
((baragon saves the day))
WindchillToday at 9:48 PM
"Did he just absorb them, Dovahkiin style?" Windchill isn't sure what's going on.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:48 PM
\IIIII DON'T GET IT.\
//I dunno. Some kinda ghost thing. What's a Dovekin?//
WindchillToday at 9:49 PM
"Some guy who kills dragons by yelling at them."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:49 PM
((there's gonna be (really bad lmao) shots of inside his belly shortly))
((idk if anyone's bothered about that but jic))
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:49 PM
[Smokey gunna be jelly ic?
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:50 PM
((i desperately want to inform rumble that a dovekin is a human with a pigeon's soul))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:50 PM
//Oh. I dunno if blastin' blue stuff at him is yellin'. Killed him real good though.//
((LMFAO))
WindchillToday at 9:51 PM
"It's really more the absorption part that makes me wonder."
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 9:52 PM
((DASZNZXC yes))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:52 PM
((float faster, little ship))
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:53 PM
[I know Smokey well. :3]
WindchillToday at 9:54 PM
Rebel leans back on the couch.
"All of the monsters are dead."
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 9:55 PM
"Oooh, professor ghost!"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:55 PM
((in another moment there should be an organ hanging out on the ocean floor, look away if necessary. it's a still-beating heart))
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:56 PM
Jazz is still sad, but now determined to meet a Mothra.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:56 PM
You never know. The multiverse is a strange place. Soundwave's seen others from films.
WindchillToday at 9:57 PM
"Gross!"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:57 PM
((okay IF YOU LIKED THAT EVEN A LITTLE, then here is a thing--))
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 9:57 PM
"Ah some things are just hard to kill"
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 9:58 PM
((OH YEAH i saw this when i saw pikachu))
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 9:58 PM
Hmms. Soundwave is a distracted by the movie~.
[soon]
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:59 PM
((same. this is a weird thing to put in front of pikachu considering the different ratings, but, yknow. not complaining.))
((it IS about a wide variety of Japanese monsters that have nothing better to do than fight each other.))
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:59 PM
((LOL))
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:59 PM
((godzilla: gotta catch em all))
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 9:59 PM
((TRUE))
((... okay the first time i ever heard that quote it was like "this is elmo's world we just live in it"
WindchillToday at 10:00 PM
(( STOP THAT RIGHT NOW ))
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 10:00 PM
((thaaaat would be a whole new rating for pokemon
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:00 PM
((punts elmo))
WindchillToday at 10:00 PM
(( Thank god. ))
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 10:00 PM
((oh my god))
https://giphy.com/gifs/marvel-cinematic-universe-mcu-pietro-maximoff-yr7n0u3qzO9nG
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 10:00 PM
[Pokemon is already super dark
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:00 PM
((....there's also a hilariously fun trailer called Knock You Out but that has a SPOILER so don't watch that one unless you're willing to accept that))
The twins flop down on the couch, giddy and tired at the same time. They need to go fight Grimlock. Like, right now.
WindchillToday at 10:01 PM
Windchill stretches his pointy feet, having given up on any follow up regarding weird berries.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:01 PM
Soundwave is mostly just grateful that they've stopped jumping.
WindchillToday at 10:01 PM
"Time to go sleep through more Godzilla movies."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:02 PM
\HEY, REBEL?\
WindchillToday at 10:02 PM
Rebel perks up, but gives a shrewd squint.
"Yeah?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:02 PM
//Punch your dad awake next time.//
Frenzy chokesnorts.
WindchillToday at 10:03 PM
"Um." She cranes her neck to look at the dad in question, but he's already staring them down.
"Yeah, okay."
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 10:03 PM
Smokescreen's slowly picking up berries upon berries, stuffing his face. Is there a mess? Maybe. "Soundwave, can I help clean up tonight?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:03 PM
\WHAT? YOU WANNA GO, BUGBANGER?\
[[No, no. No need. Prowl is sufficient - and efficient - help.]]
WindchillToday at 10:04 PM
"Ex fucking scuse me?" Windchill tilts his head.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:04 PM
\YOU'RE STARIN'.\ Points a finger.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 10:04 PM
The children are fighting.
WindchillToday at 10:04 PM
"It was one bug." He lifts a talon, just for visual reference of 'one.'
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:05 PM
//One's all ya need.//
WindchillToday at 10:05 PM
"Besides, all of the Godzilla films are the same." He yawns.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 10:05 PM
"Oh, okay. Uh. I might have made a bit of a mess. I can at least clean up that, right?" Smokescreen's already starting to try to clean any stains from the berries out. He has regrets!
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:05 PM
//Ain't that right, Boss?//
[[All right, that is it. Out. Both of you. Go find something to do.]]
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 10:05 PM
.........
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:05 PM
\SCORE. NO CLEANING DUTY.\ And they're off like a rocket.
WindchillToday at 10:06 PM
And he's up before anyone else decides to comment on his bug banging life.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:06 PM
[[Please, no. He'll handle the stains himself.]]
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 10:07 PM
"Okay, okay- I'm sorry I made a mess. I'll have to make extra cookies for you next week!" Maybe he can incorporate the berries into them!
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:07 PM
[[He'll look forward to it.]]
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 10:08 PM
"Thank you! I'll try not to disappoint you. I could also make you something more savory- maybe something spicy?"
WindchillToday at 10:08 PM
He'll do a waddling stomp, stomp stomp like a man in a chunky lizard suit, arms extended to pick up his spawn complete with some of the grosser Godzilla sounds.
Rebel goes limp, because playing dead totally works.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:08 PM
[[Perhaps. He does like a bit of spice sometimes.]]
WindchillToday at 10:08 PM
"Swoop would have liked this movie," Rebel moans, forgetting to be completely dead.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:09 PM
Soundwave tries not to let an amused smile reach his face at Rebel's antics. Younglings.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 10:09 PM
Course you do, Soundwave. Primus is just feeling sassy.
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 10:09 PM
"Me too, Soundwave! I don't get to have really good spicy stuff all that often, so it'll be nice to make some!" Of course, Smokescreen's idea of "mildly spicy" is probably what is usually considered a "very spicy"
WindchillToday at 10:10 PM
Windchill drapes her over his shoulders, like a lamb, or maybe a stylish scarf.
"I'm sure you can watch it with Swoop later. With supervision." Oh yes, lots of supervision.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:11 PM
We'll be sure to keep plenty of energon on hand next week. It'll be payback for all the gaugebusters they've snuck onto people.
Soundwave twists and stares at Primus. [[You are somehow incredibly direct and yet not at all. He would prefer you simply spoke your mind.]]
Smokescreen (ask-smokescreen)Today at 10:12 PM
"Thank you for having us, by the way! See you later, alloygator." Smokescreen picks up his berry bowl, tosses a few towards Windchill, and finally heads home for the night.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 10:12 PM
Okay. Movie's over. Has been for a few minutes, in fact. Prowl lets out a slow sigh and attempts to focus on the room again. Hello. What's going on? Is he missing a conversation?
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:12 PM
A wave over his shoulder at Smokescreen.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 10:12 PM
Laughs. "With or without a filter?"
WindchillToday at 10:13 PM
Chill recoils from whatever was thrown at him, and groans. How is he supposed to clean up Smokescreen's random mess when his hands are full of child?
Rebel points at a lone berry, rolling across the floor.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 10:13 PM
Primus. And he thought Harbringer was bad.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:13 PM
[[Without. He spends enough of his day digging out hidden meanings in mechs' words as it is.]]
Pause to look over at Prowl. [[Caught up in that?]] One feeler bobs toward the screen.
WindchillToday at 10:14 PM
She forgot to be dead again.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:14 PM
Personally, he's suspecting Devastator was having a grand old time in there. It's happened before.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 10:15 PM
"What? Ah. Yes." He shakes his head. "Sorry. Cities being destroyed are... engrossing. Did I zone out on something I should have been listening to?"
WindchillToday at 10:15 PM
Wait, he has an idea. He removes the spawn, but holds her in his grip like some garden instrument and lets her pick the berries up and pop them in her mouth. Smokescreen was eating them, so they're probably not poisonous. Probably.
It wouldn't be Rebel's first medical bill.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:16 PM
[[Ah.]] The feeler nods for Soundwave. He thought that was it. [[And that depends. He is trying to find that out.]]
It's fine. Rebel will be fine.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 10:16 PM
"Fair enough. As I meant to get at earlier, which you appeared to be very distracted over, you can ask me nearly anything and get an answer. You don't have to feel embarrassed or cautious about the questions. Even the more intimate styles ones."
WindchillToday at 10:17 PM
He hopes so, she's gobbling them up like a starving animal. The good news is that means she makes short work of them, so they're free to go. Around his neck she goes, even if that means he gets berry juice fingers in his face.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:18 PM
[[Give him a moment, then.]] There's still company present.
WindchillToday at 10:18 PM
"Good night, glad to see you guys finally got some taste in movies." Even if they are the kind that he's prone to sleeping through.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:18 PM
=Ha.= Ravage will tell Rumble that.
Jazz(unkillablejazz)Today at 10:18 PM
Jazz is going to help clean up berries, moving them into a single pile.
WindchillToday at 10:18 PM
And now, they're gone.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 10:19 PM
Nods. Glances at Blaster and Jazz.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:19 PM
Soundwave will ping him a thank-you and a note telling him to take anything he wants from the bar on the way home.
Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 10:19 PM
Riiiight. Okay, he's just...gonna leave now. "Okay, um...good night. Thanks for the movie." even thought he didn't pay attention to it.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:20 PM
[[You're welcome, Blaster. We will see you again next week. And thank you for keeping certain figures from deploying fruit.]] Because he knows it was you.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 10:20 PM
Hrmph.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:25 PM
All right, then. Now Soundwave twists more, until he's sideways on the couch. Question time. [[Why are you offering to act in such a role? He would expect interfacing with mortals - or temporarily taking the title without that - to be beneath you. It seems a massive power imbalance. And why HIM?]]
Yes, Prowl, this is what you may or may not have missed. Please join him in being confused.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 10:27 PM
"... If he didn't interface with mortals, who WOULD he interface with? I mean—to be fair—refusing to would drastically shrink the dating pool."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:28 PM
[[Other immortals. There must be more of them.]]
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 10:28 PM
"Arguably, depending on your definition, we ARE immortals."
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 10:29 PM
"Why not? There is a difference in seeing it through a memory versus going through the experience yourself. If interfacing would be so beneath him, then why would he be here among the mortal mechs? Just talking should be so. I might be the Creator, but I'm not above others." Huffs. "Soundwave, you're so important to me. You know how valuable you are. This conversation wouldn't be happening if you didn't agree to help."
"Frankly I've invested a lot in you."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:31 PM
[[The definition that includes the ability to-- to reshape reality as one pleases and live far longer than any Cybertronian HE knows of. He certainly can't do that, himself.]]
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 10:31 PM
"Not yet."
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 10:32 PM
"I wouldn't put that under the 'immortal' umbrella at all, but..." noncommittal mumble mumble.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:34 PM
[[And he doesn't see that you had much choice. You would have perished. But rescuing someone does not need to equal sharing a berth. If it did, he would never have saved Wheeljack.]] Shudder. Ugh. Perish the thought. [[And what umbrella is that, then?]]
Pause. [[Wait.]] Pause. [[Yet?]]
The umbrella question is one of genuine curiosity. Prowl's a little better at finding accurate category titles than he is.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 10:35 PM
But this "I've invested a lot in you" talk is making Prowl uneasy. He shifts in his seat so he can address Primus more directly. "All questions of 'what is an immortal' aside... Soundwave IS right about the power imbalance. It's—beyond highly inappropriate to come on to a subordinate. And I can think of no more subordinate a position than a worshiper before his god."
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 10:36 PM
"I'd like to think you helped not because of who I am, but because we'd built up a relationship until that point. I'm not a stranger nor just a God you happen to gage fealty to, Soundwave." Looks at Prowl. Bad word choice on his part? About the whole invested thing.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 10:38 PM
"It doesn't matter if you say you're leaving the choice up to him, if you insist that he can take it or leave it, or if you phrase it as an offer rather than a request. Such offers come with pressure—whether you want them to or not, the pressure is there. And the bigger the power imbalance, the higher the pressure."
"So I suggest you tread very, very cautiously. And keep in mind that if everyone in this room were an Autobot and subject to the rules of the Autobot Code, I would already have more than adequate grounds to have you arrested."
Primus [the-lord-of-light]Today at 10:41 PM
"You certainly don't mince words or hold back." That wasn't a bad thing at all.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:41 PM
Soundwave's quietly torn between admiring Prowl for having the guts to arrest PRIMUS and being horrified at the idea of someone arresting PRIMUS.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 10:43 PM
"I have a long history of speaking plainly to authority figures with variations of the word 'Prime' somewhere in their name. I don't think they—or, more importantly, their subordinates—benefit from their being coddled."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:43 PM
Mumbled thought. [[He still wants to know about "yet".]]
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
"No one does. It is good you're here to call me out, Prowl. I can sometimes easily be blind to my own wording or so used to how I interact with someone that I don't even think twice. It is a nasty habit that doesn't get pointed out because of the status I hold."
Optics flicker to Soundwave. "You are in possession of..." Pause. "Do you know what I'm referring to, Prowl?"
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)05/27/2019
"His spark shard? Yes." Oh, boy is he aware. It's caused Soundwave no end of mental turmoil, and Prowl isn't eager to see that turmoil stirred up again.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
To Prowl's credit, the time they spoke about it, Prowl sort of cleared up one of the handful of emotional tangles by pointing out how silly it was. But it is still a Thing sometimes, yes.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
"Good." Vents slowly. "As I've said before, Soundwave, I was aware of it and I'm not angry about it. I told you once that you could consider it my thanks over that whole stressful situation. And... I'm sorry... About that time and everything after causing you undue stress."
Points at Soundwave's chest. "Since that is a true piece of my Core, you might one day have it incorporated into your own spark and entirety of your frame. You could one day be a demigod because of it. Only if you choose to be."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
........................How about he just freezes and puts one of those spinny 'processing' symbols on his visor. He's gonna go ahead and do that.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
Ohno.
Panicked/apologetic look.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)05/27/2019
Prowl's desperately wanted to wrap an arm protectively around Soundwave for several minutes now, and that urge just skyrocketed, but he's pretty sure the physical contact will only give Soundwave more mental noise he has to get through before he can process that new data. Instead he squeezes his own hands together.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
Okay, the symbol's gone.
[[That is--hmm. It's.]] It's back. No, no, it's gone. No. One more flicker. Okay, he's got words again. [[It is... interesting.]]
And a shock. It's definitely a shock. If it's true. He's not completely convinced Primus isn't pulling his leg. There was the whole banana prank the other week, and all.
He lifts one hand to his mouth, the knuckle of his index finger covering both lips and his thumb on his cheek. Serious moment.
[[...He is probably too dangerous to be offered such a power. And it would put him on a different level than those he--]] Wwwword. Hard word. [[The ones he keeps close. They are important to him. He would not trade them for that.]]
Still worth noting for the record's sake, as one never knows when something will go terribly wrong, but it feels unwise (and unearned) to get invested in such an idea.
Soundwave's other hand seeks out one of Prowl's. Hi. You're one of the ten or so important ones.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)05/27/2019
"I hope you don't think I would take you any more seriously if you suddenly gained a couple of power upgrades." He reaches across himself to take Soundwave's hand so that his other arm is free to, finally, wrap protectively around Soundwave.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
A dark huff. [[You threatened to arrest PRIMUS. He would expect you to storm after him with handcuffs if he-- what do demigods DO?]] Frown. [[Turned Rodimus into a fireplace.]]
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)05/27/2019
"He already is."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
[[Through no fault of HIS.]]
Soundwave shakes his head and looks at Primus. Get serious again. Right. [[And he does not require apologies. But he appreciated them.]]
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
The banana thing was just him having fun. Primus didn't expect the whole 'shooting the box' event. This wasn't something that he would speak so lightly of. Over the years the shard's power would have, unless isolated, leaked into Soundwave. The power within would augment his abilities over time as if it were completely normal.
"I thought you should know now instead of being shocked. I still am apologetic even if you don't need them."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
Sudden frown. [[He supposes he'd agree to do it if your death was unavoidable and his inaction would leave Cybertron a husk. But he would prefer that did not come to pass.]]
Soundwave nods. [[It is good of you to have told him. Though now he wonders whether your interest isn't your spark trying to -- return to the rest of itself. These things are beyond him. In any case, the ORIGINAL offer is still very... He does not think he understands the full weight of it at this time. Perhaps after a great deal of thought.]]
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)05/27/2019
Prowl's protective hold tightens a bit.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
"The original offer... You know that was just for you to ask questions of me, right? Not to do anything."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
[[Then he very much did not understand. He mistook teasing for an offer. Better that he had not agreed to it.]]
Soundwave settles into the hold. Prowl was invaluable during the fight with Unicron. Surely his continued presence will help ensure that Primus does NOT perish any time soon.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)05/27/2019
... Prowl considers marginally loosening his grip, but decides the tension hasn't dissipated nearly enough to warrant that.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
"Forgive me if I made it sound that way. Intimacy on any level beyond what this is now, I wouldn't ask in public or so lightly."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
Nodding.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)05/27/2019
Prowl's not wholly convinced that Primus didn't make a deliberately ambiguous offer just so he could leave himself the very plausible deniability escape route he just used.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
Intentionally? No.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
[[He did think it was rather... gauche, when he misinterpreted the intent. A certain triplechanger comes to mind.]]
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
Embarrassed grimace. "I severely need more interactions."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
Hand wave. [[You are welcome to visit more often.]]
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
"Thank you, Soundwave." Smiles. "And Prowl, as if it needs to be said, call me out on anything I do that seems... off. A very vague descriptive."
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)05/27/2019
"I fully intend to."
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
"Lucky mechs to have each other." Chuckles.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
A big green check mark on his visor.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
Stands up from where he'd been leaning. "Hmm... Did I cover everything that was bothering you two earlier?"
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)05/27/2019
Prowl's keeping his mouth shut. Anything else on his mind, he intends to discuss with Soundwave.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
[[He supposes he has no other qu... no other PRESSING questions at this time.]] He ALWAYS has non-pressing questions about everything. They can be ignored from time to time.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
Quirks a smile. "Then I'll clean up the mess that was left because of the berries. You two enjoy the rest of your evening together." Could he give Soundwave a gentle nudge/pat?
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
Soundwave won't say no to that. He also shoves over some thoughts of intense gratitude re: the mess. Wasn't looking forward to trying to clean up stains caused by eternal berries.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
Leans back over to give the lightest of helm touches. Gratitude was clear in his field from contact. Smiling, he pulled back, gave Prowl a respective nod, and went to deal with the mess. How did Smokescreen even eat so many...
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
Soundwave accepts the pat, waits a moment, and tilts his head back to look at Prowl with no small amount of respect. [[...You are forthright and fearless in the exact way a mech ought to be, and he would kiss you for it when you are of a mind to accept one.]]
He'll also sit here feeling nice and safe and surrounded by good sense. And arms. Both? Both.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)05/27/2019
"Mm. When we're by ourselves." He's waiting until Primus has dealt with the mess and gone.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
Small nod.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
So many berries! Eventually he had them all in a floating berry ring around his helm. The smooshed bits were also cleaned up. Maybe watching Primus clean helped Prowl feel a bit better. Maybe? Shrug.
"Remind me to not do that again..." Looks back over to Soundwave. "Want me to leave the indestructible bond in place?"
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
[[For now.]]
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
Nods. "Good night you two." Pops a berry in as he heads outside like a proper mech.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)05/27/2019
Prowl watches him go. Are they alone now? Yes?
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
Seems like it.
Primus [the-lord-of-light]05/27/2019
Never~!
No, seriously. Primus is gone.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)05/27/2019
Good. Prowl is tugging Soundwave into an even tighter, twice as protective embrace.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)05/27/2019
Hup, this is extremely unexpected and a little confusing and he has no idea why it's happening NOW but he won't stop it either.
[[What's this, then?]] Curious but loose feeler coil. Return embrace, sort of. A thing to show that he's okay with and enjoying it, mostly.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Last Tuesday at 12:07 AM
"'Frankly I've invested a lot in you,'" Prowl repeated, voice venomous. "That's BEYOND exploitative. That's the kind of—of, manipulative— I know quite a lot about how abusive mechs operate. That's— Focusing on someone of a far lower rank, showering them with favors, encroaching on their boundaries, pushing them little bit by bit outside of their comfort zones, reminding them that they owe a favor because SO MUCH has been done for them—those are ALL warning signs. They're dangerous. Be extremely wary, Soundwave. I know you don't want to have to be, not with Primus, but— None of that sounds good. And whatever he tries to say to you about what he's 'invested' in you, remember that a debt that wasn't asked for, wasn't agreed to, and wasn't accurately presented is NEVER binding—and any debt that's coerced is little better."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Last Tuesday at 12:22 AM
The repetition is confusing at first--why is Prowl saying the same kind of thing Primus did?--but Soundwave's brain swiftly catches up to his audio receptors and clarifies for him. Prowl is referencing that as a lead in to the rest of his speech, not saying it himself. And the tone of it means this will be important.
So Soundwave wriggles a little to position himself in a way lets him offer Prowl as much of his attention as he can possibly spare and does not move, absorbing it all.
Well. He moves a LITTLE bit. His face does, anyway, sliding through curiosity and surprise to settle into a stunned sort of upset.
How could-- how could that possibly be true? That Primus would ever pose such a danger to his creations? Especially to one so devoted.
...But then, the Primes were said to be his chosen voices and vessels, and most of them had no problems harming the mechs beneath THEM in one way or another. And this wouldn't be the first time Soundwave had been stupid enough to stumble into--
He fidgets hard, fingers flexing, feeler claws clacking and spinning. It's an uncomfortable thought. It makes his spark riot. But he can't quite say Prowl is wrong about that pattern. It IS a pattern. He's had it used on him. He's used it on others, for Pit's sake. He knows it's a thing in general. Is it a thing here? Or is it really just a long time spent away from bots, like Primus said?
He doesn't know. And he doesn't know how he's supposed to tell for sure. He can't risk reading the core. That could only lead to complete loss of self.
Soundwave grabs Prowl's arms and pulls them tighter. The world feels like it's just gotten a whole lot shakier. He doesn't WANT it to, but the possibility is raised and there's no blindly ignoring it now.
[[...He will watch.]]
And hope like Pit that Prowl has never been more wrong in his life.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Last Tuesday at 12:30 AM
Prowl nods, mouth set in a grim line.
And then leans forward, optics turned off, pressing his crest hard to Soundwave's. He tightens his embrace as much as he can without risking denting Soundwave's arms. He desperately hopes that he's wrong, too. Because if he's not—if someone that can manipulate matter and shake planets and create lives and insert himself into others' minds at will is intent on ensnaring, controlling, and using Soundwave—then it's very possible that no amount of vigilance and awareness, no amount of protectiveness from an amica, will be able to stop that.
And should this ever escalate—should the welfare of Cybertron ever become a bargaining chip, a favor to be offered or withheld—he does not know that it would be ethical to TRY to prevent him from getting what he demands.
"I—hope not," he says. "But..." But hope alone doesn't create reality. And the calculations ticking away in his head aren't kicking out favorable numbers.
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Last Tuesday at 12:42 AM
[[But.]]
The tightly bound portion of Soundwave that is always ready to throw an authority figure to the floor and kick them in the teeth knows that, were it to come to such an event--if Primus were to use the welfare of Cybertron as a bargaining chip--then Soundwave would consider doing as he'd said earlier. Being a demigod is better than turning Cybertron into a dead husk... and a god that would do such a thing to its creations will never be one Soundwave can tolerate.
Even the mere handful of seconds he spends on that thought makes him sick.
[[We can but wait.]]
And be quiet. He suddenly wants nothing more than to stay here, like this, small and unimportant and unseen, with someone he knows he could hand his life under the belief that it would be handled responsibly--whatever responsible means in a given scenario. And he trusts that Prowl would know what that is.
[[Stay, tonight.]]
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Last Tuesday at 12:45 AM
"Of course." He draws his head back a sliver, just to allow himself to press his crest to Soundwave's again with an audible tap. "I'm not going anywhere."
Soundwave (Slenderwave)Last Tuesday at 12:48 AM
[[Good.]] He returns the tap with one led by himself, curls the other feeler around Prowl to match the first, and tries to get as comfortable as he can after that kind of revelation. Sleep's going to come hard tonight, he just knows it. Still, he'll have to try. [[Good...]]
Prowl won't get much more than that out of him tonight. All his ability to put together coherent thought will have been used for processing the night's content instead.
Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Last Tuesday at 12:51 AM
Prowl shifts slightly, tugging Soundwave to lean down against him, tipping his head so Soundwave can rest his head on Prowl's shoulder if he wants. Rest. Even if Soundwave couldn't sleep, he could at least rest on Prowl. He might not have anything on hand to counter a god like Primus—but at the very least, tonight he can pretend he's protecting Soundwave.
Prowl's going to have a hard time sleeping, too.
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Debt Collection
Of course I need to write for this new ego!! Enjoy!
You were secretly envious of your partners ability to sing so beautifully. Ever since they started their singing lessons and gigs at that establishment, their ability to hit those high and low notes exceeded your own ten-fold.
You were so proud of them. And you waited almost impatiently for them to come through the door from their very first tour. One you had been unable to go to due personal stuff.
So to distract you from glancing at the clock every second, you picked up an instrument and start playing. You’ve been practising more and more recently. It was a nice activity to your already busy schedule.
It wasn’t until you heard some keys being jiggled and the door being unlocked that you put down the instrument and ran towards the door.
“Finally! You’re home!” You yelled. Throwing yourself at your partner, hugging them tightly as they dropped their luggage by th door.
“It‘s been so long. How are you? I’m sorry I‘m late. So much traffic tonight.“ They replied, squeezing you just as tightly. They kicked the door close behind you and took your hand. Leading you back to the loungeroom to sit on the couch with an exhausted sigh.
“It‘s good to be home, finally. You’re playing again?“ They asked, noticing the intrument. You nodded and smiled. Picking it up to put it away, but your partner tugged on your sleeve. Pouting childishly. “Play for me. I missed you, just sit for a bit?”
You couldn’t deny those eyes, so you sat down and started to play. You were only a few notes in when the front door was tapped by a series of knocks. Your partner frowned but sighed. Groaning dramatically as they rolled to their feet and going to answer the knocking.
You stopped playing and listened. Growing concerned when you heard your partners voice turn sour.
“What the hell are you doing here?” They snapped. They didn’t sound angry, but they definitely weren’t happy about whoever was at the door.
“I’m here to collect my end of our contract. You outgrew my place rather quickly, how was the tour? I went to one of your shows. You were quite... outstanding.” The stranger sounded male,with a voice so smooth. Dripping with honey on every word. But there was still a hard edge to the stranger’s tone.
“Babe, is everything ok?” You called, lowering the instrument a little.
There was a tense moment of silence at the door before whispered hisses could be heard. And then footsteps entered your home as a man in a black vest and red suit, followed your partner into the loungeroom.
His smile was genuine but it held a menacing curl. His eyes glittering as they landed on the object in your hands.
“Good evening. I didn’t know you had company.“ The man‘s eyes flicked over to your partner and they glared back.
“I didn‘t know our contract would include housecalls.” Your partner hissed and the man smirked. The fingers on his cane stroking the animal head affectionately. The glass ball seemed to gleam wickedly with every touch.
“You‘ve been ignoring my calls. And unfortunately I had to bring it here. In front of your lover? Yes?” Though his attention was fully on the other person in the room, you glimpsed his eyes wink at you.
Your partner’s hands clenched. They were shaking. Unable to look over at you as you stood.
“What‘s going on? Who are you?“ You decided to take things into your own hands. It was obvious no one was going to introduce you to this stranger.
The man’s smile turned friendly. Turning his body to give you his full attention.
“Call me Phantom, friend. And what your partner here has apparently failed to inform you, is that he refused to come pay his debt. A contract we made upon his first session at my establishment. And since he has finally reached his highest peak of performance, I can claim my end of our arrangement.”
You looked over at your partner. Unsure of what to make of what you were hearing.
“You made a deal? To what? Sing? You were getting gigs everywhere, why make a deal?” You were flabbergasted. They had been singing almost every week at bars and clubs. Coming home happy.
Why did they lie?
“Awww, don‘t frown, little doll. But you have every right to be mad. Because they lied to you. I was the one who got them all those little shows. Gave them money to buy new instruments and even dropped a few rumours around. I must apologise, he had informed me you were alright with this arrangement.”
You couldn’t quite understand why your partner never told you. This was a big deal! Someone with so much influence wouldn’t be trustworthy.... not without a written contract.
You took a deep breath and calmed your anger.
“If they made a deal with you, was it in writing?” You asked. And Phantom nodded. With drawing a scroll from his vest. Which surprised you because that fabric clung to him like it was apart of him. How did you not see a bundle of parchment against his chest?
“Do not worry. I’m not rookie at this. To keep our interests fair and signed; I wrote a contract up. And your lover here signed away their name to me.” Phantom explained this as he offered you the scroll.
You took it, ripping open the wax seal and unrolling it enough to read some of the inked words.
The contract was huge! And the writing was in such fine print that you had to squint to read it.
“What are the terms?” You asked. Glancing at your very silent partner. Who had taken up the couch and looking like a guilty child with a cookie.
“We agreed on simple terms. Most of which include shared expenses and royalties from albums and varies gigs. Your partner and their band would play at any stage they wished, as long as it was within my domain and they would have my brand on their merchandise.” Phantom smiled and intertwined his fingers top the cane. Flexing them as a last thought crossed his mind. “Oh! And in return for my little birds spreading the band’s name throughout the city, once he reaches his highest potential.... I get their soul.”
Your eyes widened. The shock of such a statement taking you by surprise. Before logic kicked in and you glared at the man.
“What does that mean? That you get full custody of the band name and the money made from it?”
Phantom laughed and lifted his cane with a flick of his wrist. “No, my dear. Quite literally, I get your little lovers soul.”
Phantom gripped the cane’s hilt with a wicked smile. The crystal ball edging closer to your face as Phantom leaned it towards you.
Before you could tell him to leave, the ball swirled with a reddish mist and a familiar face pressed against the inside of the clear glass.
“Oh my God!” You screamed as your lover beat against the ball. Yelling out a silent cry as the mist swallowed them whole and took them from sight.
You dropped the scroll and looked over to where your lover had been sitting. Finding their spot to be empty, and only your instrument laying on the couch cushions.
Phantom sighed and scooped up the scroll. Holding it up to watch it crumble away into flakes of ash. Disappearing before it ruined your carpet as it sifted like sand between his fingers.
“I am sorry that you had to see me do this. Truly. I take no pride in removing loved ones from.... actually never mind. I really don’t care.” Phantom chuckled and wiped his ashen hands on the couch. “To be honest, my dear, your lover was an excellent performer. I just had to have him in my Collection. But don’t worry your sweet little head. They’ll be taken care of in the best way. The best food, the best comforts-”
“Give them back!” You demanded. Cutting off Phantom, who turned a sad, but irritated gaze on you.
“No backsies I’m afraid. They’re mine now... so deal with it.” Phantom tapped you on the nose with the crystal ball and turned to leave. His eyes straying on the instrument on the couch. “But, and I don’t normally do this, if you’d like to see them again, visit my establishment. Play me something and, if you interest me, I’ll reunite you two.”
In a flourish of fingers, Phantom conjured a gold playing card from his sleeve. An elegantly dressed king, wrapped in silver and red, decorated the card as a King of Hearts. Beneath the artwork, was a number and street address.
“Hope to see you soon, my little songbird.” Phantom waved his hand in a final farewell before leaving your home. Closing the door behind him with a gentle tap.
#phantom#phantom natewantstobattle#phantom battle ego#natewantstobattle ego#battle ego#phantom x reader#phantom natewantstobattle ego x reader#battle ego x reader#natewantstobattle ego x reader#reader insert#x reader#dark youtuber xreader#dark youtuber#ego x reader#natewantstobattle x reader#natewantstobattle
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The Pitted Olive, part 5
fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)
universe: Draq Queen!AU (Tony Stark as a drag queen)
summary: Steve and Tony continue to happily date and Steve has a sweet surprise for Tony, while Tony asks him a big question. Also, Steve meets another drag queen from The Pitted Olive.
length: 3 683 words
disclaimer: this fic is written strictly for entertainment. I am not a specialist on drag and my whole knowledge comes from mainstream media. if there is something you will find incorrect or offensive in any way, there is always an option to contact me and politely voice your thoughts instead of flaming. thanks!
a/n: I am trying to contradict the sad vibe I am getting from tumblr lately and forcing myself to post. hopefully, this will work for you and me!
——————–
The Pitted Olive, part 5
(part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6)
Ding!
"Hi! Welcome to Mama's Little Bakery - Hi Steve!"
"Hi, Kamala," Steve greeted the dark haired girl behind the counter. He took a deep breath, smelling all the frosting and sweet toppings and some earthy notes of a good, real bread. It was a special smell.
"What brings you here? Want to try our new creation?" Kamala motioned to the small plate next to her, where some small cookie pieces were waiting.
"Always," Steve grinned and took a piece, popping it into his mouth. Crumbly, buttery, and sweet. With some floral note to it.
"Rose water and white chocolate cookies," Kamala smiled proudly. Although the bakery specialized in homemade, traditional pastries, the newly hired young personnel was welcomed to experiment. "Teddy came up with that."
"It's great," Steve said enthusiastically, although he felt that nothing could top good ol' double chocolate chip cookies. "Is Mama here?"
"He is in the back with Billy. Heard you placed a special order?"
"Kamala!" a dark-haired teenager with a hair neat stretched over his head popped out from the backspace. "Did you finish putting together the boxes?"
"Not yet!"
"Can you hurry up, please?! The guys from the Xavier's School will be here any minute to pick up the cupcakes for their students!"
"Hi, Billy," Steve smiled at the boy.
"Oh, hi, Steve, sorry didn't see you there," Billy said, walking to Kamala and carrying a tray of cupcakes with yellow frosting and a black x on top. An odd choice, but it was the school's logo. "And where is Teddy?! I need more sugar pearls!"
"Calm down, we have plenty of time!" Kamala said, taking the tray and putting it aside. "If you want to get it done, help me too," she said, pushing a cupcake holder box in his hands to fold.
"I still have like two dozens of cupcakes to frost--- why there is a cupcake missing from the display?"
"Uh oh… Well, I didn't have time to eat breakfast so…"
"How did you even reach it?! It is like your arms can stretch, I swear---"
"I am going to the back," Steve pointed at the door leading to the staff only area, letting the kids resolve this one between themselves. He heard the banter and smiled, thinking that since Sam made a decision to take interns from the baking school, the bakery became much more lively. Entering the kitchen was a whole new experience. The shop part looked sweet and inviting, set in light pinks and cream colors, just as Sam's mom designed. The kitchen was white, with a lot of silver utensils, and the most colorful sprinkles and icing stashed neatly on the shelves. It was perfectly organized.
"Billy, when you will be done with the cupcakes, please check on the apple pies in the oven," Sam said, hearing someone entering the kitchen. He was hunched over a marble table and rolling some dough between his palms, sprinkling it with flour, whenever the dough felt too sticky.
"Hi, Mama!"
Sam turned around, looking in surprise at Steve. "Hairnet!" he scolded, pointing to the shelve with a box of disposable hair nets.
"Dude, seriously?" Steve asked, blankly. Sam was also wearing a hairnet, although he kept his hair in a buzz cut.
"Hairnet or get out from my kitchen!" Sam ordered, slamming the pile of dough against the table to get more air bubbles inside.
"Okay, okay," Steve soothed, stretching the net over his head. "What are you doing?"
"Dough for cinabbons. You know that dough has to be kneaded at least one hundred times?"
"I honestly didn't know that. Why don't you use a stand mixer?"
"Nah, man. It is all about the love you put into your baking," Sam replied, smiling gently and Steve was sure that that smile wasn't for him, but for the dough. "Mixers don't give love."
One day Steve would love to have a job he could be so passionate about as Sam was about his bakery. Working in an art shop had its pluses, like steady hours, steady pay, a lot of free time. Downsides were working with not always sure what they searched for customers and countless hours of rearranging misplaced art supplies. What Steve really wanted was to teach art. Somehow, he never had the courage to take that step. Maybe one day.
"You came here for your order?" Sam asked, straightening up and wiping hands in his apron. The dough was resting under a clean cloth, needing time to rise. "I had to test out a few recipes before I came up with a one I was pleased with," he handed Steve a pink box with a bow and the bakery's logo stamped in one corner.
"Thanks," Steve smiled, taking the package.
"Hope you two will enjoy it," Sam said hurriedly, jumping to the huge deck oven and checking on the apple pies. The hot scent of baking apples and cinnamon drifted to Steve and it was heavenly. "If you want something to go, just tell Kamala, she will pack it for you!"
"Maybe later," Steve started walking out of the kitchen. Sam always offered him free pastries and Steve was grateful, but sometimes it felt as too much. Although, he wouldn't say no to some cheesecake. "Hey, I will see you this evening, right?"
"Yeah. Can you call Billy here on your way out?"
"Sure. Thanks again, Sam!"
Steve left the bakery, holding the pink package and smiling lightly. He was hoping that Tony would love his surprise.
***
"Oh, oh yeah, give it to me, come on - AAAAH!"
Steve was blushing. Blushing so much his face would melt off. Why Tony had to be so loud.
"Mmmmm! That felt good! Come on, one more time, faster, GAAAAAH!"
God. People were staring at him. Just move along, nothing was happening here. Steve was just sitting outside Tony's changing room and curling in embarrassment. Perfectly normal.
"Ooooh, slap it on me! HAAAAAH!"
Maybe he should just wait outside. Seemed like a good idea.
"Ah ah ah… Woah, that was intense. Thanks."
Steve uncurled, his face less heated. Okay, it was coming to an end. Some more talking, and soon a red-haired woman in a white cosmetician coat walked out of the room. She spotted Steve and smiled, in a bit terrifying way. "She is all yours now."
"Thanks," Steve replied meekly.
"Aaah, it is good to feel smooth again!" Red walked out, stretching in her small, gold robe. "See you next month, Nat."
Natasha nodded, grabbing trotting by Arrow, male name Clint, as Steve learned with time, by the arm and twirled with her. "Ah ah ah! Where do you think you are going? You and your hairy pits are next."
"Awww, but I told it is an artistic choice!" Arrow argued in a whiny voice, walking with Natasha to her changing room.
"Don't forget about her back!" Red Velvet called, grinning broadly. Arrow flipped her sister off and it was met only with a giggle.
"Hey, honey," Red Velvet said, turning her eyes to Steve. "Want to feel how smooth I am," she purred, taking his hand and slipping it under the robe, his palm resting over smooth, heated skin near the inner thigh area.
Steve's face exploded with a new shade of embarrassment. He pushed himself and Red inside the room hurriedly and slammed the door behind. Seemed that she just loved making him flustered. "Maybe not now," Steve muttered, feeling that everyone in the club was already observing him.
"Good," Red replied with a smile, moving away, "because I am a little sore. It is not easy getting a full body wax."
"F-full body?" Steve repeated, his mouth falling open a little.
"Full body," Red repeated with a wide smile. This time, Steve felt that his blush went all the way down to his toes. Full body was a whole lot of smooth skin.
"So, what brings you here?" Red Velvet asked, curling in the corner of the couch and patting the cushions next to her, motioning for Steve to sit down. "Lately you only show up minutes before my show."
Oh right.
"I brought you something," Steve said, sitting next to her and handing her a box from the bakery.
Red Velvet frowned, and it was her gentle frown, the one that was practiced to not crease her face too much. "You know that I don't eat before performing."
"Just one bite," Steve asked. He hated that she was starving herself just to squeeze her waist more in the cincher.
"Well… Let's see first what you got me," she said, removing the lid. "Huh."
"They are red velvet cupcakes," Steve said happily. Red velvet for Red Velvet.
"It is from your friend, right?" Red Velvet asked and she took out one cupcake, turning it in her hand and looking at it from every angle. It smelled like cocoa and the white frosting was swirled out perfectly. "It is cute, but I am not actually a fan of red velvet cake," she smiled gently.
"No?" Steve blinked, feeling a bit baffled. "Then why your name is Red Velvet?"
"You think I named myself after a cake?" Red laughed, and it sounded more like Tony than Red, to be honest. "It is because the first dress I wore as a drag queen was made of red velvet. It is not a very friendly material, to be honest, it is a bit heavier than others and you get hot quickly, but it is really nice to the touch. Nowadays my dresses are mostly made of satin. I would really like to try some dresses made of charmeuse, but I don't have the figure to pull it off. You have no idea what I am talking about, do you?" Red laughed, and Steve closed his opened mouth.
"I only know that you have a great figure," Steve said in his defense and Red smiled.
"I am gonna give it a taste," she said, delicately peeling the wrapper off, "you know, red velvet is actually very difficult to make… Too much food dye, and it will be bitter. Too little and it will become dry. It is a tricky cake," she said, biting in. Even though she didn't have any makeup on yet, Steve saw the difference. Tony took big bites, almost in a gluttonous way, always getting his mouth dirty. Here, she took a small, dainty bite, quickly wiping off the frosting off her lips.
"Hm," Red Velvet looked at Steve, and she smacked her lips together delicately. "It… Is actually really good," she said, smiling in surprise. "Really good," she said, offering the rest of the cupcake to Steve, and Steve did the playful thing and took a bite of the cupcake while she still was holding it. Moist cake, a bit salty frosting. Sam did it again. "Good, right?" Red asked, and Steve gave an approving hum. "I thought your friend is miserable in his job, but his cakes don't taste like that."
"Huh?" Steve asked, wiping his mouth when the rest of the cupcake was gone. "What do you mean by that?"
Red shrugged, standing up and going to her vanity station. "He has some… weird vibe around him. Like if being an owner of a bakery is something he doesn't want to do."
"Well, it is complicated… Sam didn't really have a choice," Steve said, scratching the back of his neck.
"Family business?"
"Yeah, family," Steve nodded, remembering the day the Wilson family moved into the neighborhood. They had renovated a shop that used to be a barber place, and Mrs. Wilson finally fulfilled her dream of owning a bakery, a ten-year-old Sam and his siblings helping in every way they could. With time, Sam's older siblings went to live on their own in different parts of the country, and Sam stayed with his mom, still helping. When she was unable to work anymore, Sam took over the business, letting his mom's dream live on through him. Like every person, Sam had doubts about what he was doing, and Steve could see it more often in his friend. Yet, today in the bakery… Sam looked truly happy.
"I understand that. Kids don't want to disappoint their parents," Red said, and Steve looked up curiously because once again, he saw in Red more Tony. He couldn't ask what was going on, because Red continued to speak and it was big news. "Maybe except my daughter. She is a pain and proud of it."
"You have a daughter?!" Steve asked, his eyes wide as saucers. Wasn't that kind of an information he should know from the start?
"Not in a sense you think," Red smiled, obviously enjoying seeing Steve's shocked face in the mirror. "I meant my drag daughter. Tootsie Roll."
"Tootsie?" Steve's mouth fell open. Tootsie was the drag queen he usually saw behind the bar, pouring drinks or sometimes on the stage, singing grungy music. With her smudged makeup and love for plaid and animal prints, she didn't resemble Red Velvet's poised style in any way.
"My little rebel," Red laughed fondly, taking a cotton pad and pouring some blue liquid on her face, starting her makeup routine. "I taught her how to walk, how to apply makeup, gave her her first cincher to hide her hog body---"
"Is her name Tootsie because of you?" Steve asked, pulling his eyebrows together.
Red had to stop and lowered the cotton pad in her hand. "You are really fixated on the topic of sweets today, aren't you?" she smiled and Steve smiled back in a lopsided way. "Actually, I came up with that, but she was the one who allowed it to stay. I called her like that once, because- ughh," Red's smile became a little wider, "okay, that was mean of me, but her first tucks looked like she stuffed a bar of tootsie roll in her pants. It was not completely hidden. So, it kinda stuck."
"That… that is mean," Steve admitted, chuckling lowly.
"Don't laugh, tucking in is a serious business," Red reprimanded, narrowing her eyes. There was some knocking on the door, and she turned away from the mirror. "Come in!"
"Hey, Red, do you have some aloe? I think Nat burned some of my skin," a male walked in, right past Steve on the couch, rubbing his armpit with a scowl.
"Tsk, where are your manners," Red Velvet reprimanded, "Steve, I present to you my daughter, Tootsie Roll. Tootsie, this is Steve."
"Sup," the guy turned to Steve briefly and Steve raised his hand in hello. Wow. It was fascinating how such a bulky guy could transform his body into a perfect hourglass figure. That had to require a lot of padding. He also had strong facial features and a stubble, but makeup had turned his face into a rounder, softer one. Dark, shoulder-length hair which was usually hidden under frilly, big wigs. "Mom, aloe, okay?! I am dying!" she urged Red Velvet in a playful whine.
"Okay, okay. Damn kids."
"I… I think I know you," Steve said, not letting his eyes off Tootsie. The guy turned to him with a slightly mocking smile.
"Well, duh. I am the one who prepares your drinks, Long Island Ice Tea guy," she replied with a smile. And Steve just stared, because without lipstick that smile seemed awfully familiar. Once on a bruised face and a busted lip. A very long time ago.
"Bucky!" Steve called suddenly.
Tootsie made a confused face. "What?"
"You are Bucky!" Steve continued to call, sure of it.
"… Wait, you said, Steve, right? As in little punk Steve?" Tootsie frowned before Steve nodded enthusiastically. After having the confirmation, both men let out a happy scream and ran into each other arms. "Steve! It had been what? Twenty years?!"
"I had no idea, you were back in town! When did you come back?"
"I don't know, a year or two ago? I didn't know you still live in New York."
"This is great," Steve said, drawing away from the hug. "You changed so much."
"Looks who's talking!" Bucky laughed, remembering the small fry he had left. "Growth spurt did wonders to you, pal."
"Um, can someone fill me up?" Red reminded them of her presence, holding in her hands a stick of aloe vera.
"Sorry!" Steve laughed, "me and Bucky were best pals in childhood until his family moved to Ohio."
"Uh, yeah, you never forget the first guy who busted your lip," Bucky said, pointing at the left corner of his mouth, where he had a thin, pale scar. "He had the boniest fists."
"Hey, you gave me a black eye, that's way worse," Steve grinned, shoving his friend in the shoulder. Bucky's and Steve's first meeting was pretty intense, but from a fight that emerged from a misunderstanding, a true friendship was born. They were best buds and inseparable until Bucky's dad got a new job and the whole family moved. Those were some lonely years for Steve until Sam's family moved into the neighborhood.
"Aw, you two are such frat boys, it is adorable," Red Velvet smiled. "But don't you have somewhere to be?" she said, looking directly at Tootsie.
"Oh, right!" she said, suddenly remembering that the time was passing and her shift would soon start. "Hey, come to my bar, we will talk some more. And we could meet one day and catch up. I have to get ready now," she reached her hand for the aloe and Red Velvet tossed it to her. "Thanks! I will see you both later!"
"Bye!" Steve smiled, watching the door close behind his friend. He couldn't stop smiling. It was great to be reunited with his childhood friend. And he couldn't wait to introduce Bucky to Sam.
Red Velvet made a sympathetic sound and walked to Steve's side, pulling his head down to press to her chest. "You are getting all emotional, baby."
Just then Steve realized that there were some tears forming in his eyes. He came to terms with not seeing Bucky ever again and meeting him after all those years was an emotional experience.
"Come on, I will clean you up," Red Velvet said, taking Steve's hand and guiding him to the vanity station. She sat Steve down and took a fresh cotton pad, pouring the same liquid she had used earlier on the pad, and gently rubbing Steve's face all over with it. Steve closed his eyes and enjoyed the touch. He was getting used to all those cosmetic stuff.
"Steve… Actually, there is something I wanted to ask you…"
"Hm?"
"How would you feel about performing in a duet with me?"
"What?" Steve asked, opening his eyes and looking at Red Velvet smiling hopefully at him. "Me and you? On the stage?"
Red Velvet nodded.
"I don't sing."
"I heard you singing under the shower."
"I meant, I don't sing in public," Steve sighed. It was way out of his comfort zone.
"We can do a lip sync. Many drag queens do it."
Drag queens?
"Are you asking because you want me to…?" Steve didn't finish. Her smile was enough to confirm that thought. In less than a second, Steve was off the chair. "Oh no, no, no," he said quickly, walking backward and seemingly terrified. "No way. I am not wearing drag."
"Why not?" Red Velvet asked, crossing her arms and looking a little defensive at Steve's quick refusal. He better chose his words carefully.
"It… It is not my thing!" Steve said clumsily, and Red narrowed her eyes.
"How can you tell if you never tried it before?"
"I just can."
Red rolled her eyes. "It is fine. If you don't want to, I won't force you," she said but sounded a bit offended. She sat on the chair and resumed her beauty routine without a word.
Steve felt guilty. Maybe he reacted too harshly. He looked at the mirror, trying to imagine himself with long hair and makeup. "Would I have to wax my body?"
"No, only shave some parts. Which, between you and me, wouldn't actually hurt to do, you know, I have enough of plucking your hair out from between my teeth each time---"
"La la la la!" Steve sang, pressing hands to his ears and closing his eyes. When he opened them after a while, Red was looking at him with a smirk. Such a big guy and yet he acted like a baby.
"I… I will think about it," Steve gave up, lowering his arms.
"That's all I am asking," Red hummed, putting a headband on her head and reaching for the white foundation.
Steve had an idea.
"You know, you had been showing me a whole lot of your world. How about I show you now some of mine?" Steve said, standing behind the chair and putting his hands on Red's shoulders.
"What do you mean?" Red asked, sounding a bit intrigued.
"Just some guys day out."
"Guys day out?" she repeated, sounding amused. "Will we go to a strip club? Poker night and cigars? That stuff?"
"Oh, you would like that, huh?" Steve teased, squeezing her shoulders playfully, meaning the cigars part. "You will see," he said mysteriously. Red took a moment to answer, before turning on the chair, facing Steve.
"Bring it on, sugar," she said enticingly. Steve smiled wider and leaned down while Red put her hands on his cheeks, bringing their lips into a kiss, probably the last one before she would take the makeup off after her show. The deal was sealed. "Now, get out, I need to get ready," she said, when the kiss ended, turning back to the mirror.
With a smile on his lips, Steve trotted to the door, but changed his mind last second and sat back on the couch, where he had a nice view of his lady getting ready. Red raised her eyebrow at that.
"Or you can stay and watch. That is an option too."
Truth to be told, it was Steve's favorite option.
————-
<– previous part ….. next part —>
————-
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@destiel-is-classic, @prithvik , @azurixx , @mangakats, @mystey-writes, @w1nters-stark, gloriousmarvellokiturtle,
#stony#stevetony#superhusbands#tony stark#steve rogers#drag queen#drag queen AU#au#the pitted olive fic#the pitted olive#fanfic#fanfiction#no tickling#sam wilson#clint barton#natasha romanoff#Bucky Barnes
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Midnight Ice Cream
Had to write something for @heithweek2017 so here’s something for today’s prompt Laughing/Crying.
Title: Midnight Ice Cream
Rating: G
Series: Voltron Legendary Defender
Characters/Ship: Hunk/Keith
Summary: Despite being tired, Hunk couldn’t sleep and he discovers neither can Keith.
Hunk yawned as he groggily left his room and made his way into the kitchen. It was late, and he knew with the training they had in the morning he should be asleep, but he couldn’t. Hunk would shut his eyes, only to find himself tossing and turning before opening them again.
He just couldn’t sleep. It felt everything from the last couple of weeks had decided to pile up upon him at once.
The fight with Zarkon. Shiro going missing. Keith taking over the Black Lion, while Allura took over the Red Lion. That Lotor creep now chasing after them. It felt like it had been years since Hunk could fully relax.
Having no other options than to stare at his ceiling, Hunk decided to get a snack. He did have some of those disastrous cookies he baked sill lying around. They would either help Hunk fall asleep, or he just continue to be awake and less hungry.
Hunk entered the kitchen, but stopped when he saw Keith sitting at the table. He barely seemed aware Hunk had entered as he stared into his steaming cup of tea. Hunk cleared his throat to avoid startling him, and Keith raised his head.
Keith blinked and leaned against his hand. “Can’t sleep?”
Hunk shook his head and leaned over the table. “Guessing you can’t either?”
Keith nodded as he wrapped his fingers around the cup. “Coran said this tea would help, but I don’t think it is.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Too many thoughts in my head.”
“Know the feeling,” Hunk said as folded his arms and tapped his fingers against his elbow. “Been meaning to ask, but..you doing okay?”
Shiro’s disappearance had hurt everyone, but Hunk knew it hit Keith the most. Bad enough Keith was missing the closest person he was with on the team, but then Keith having to take over the Black Lion only felt like it was adding salt to the wound.
They all tried to give Keith space when he clearly needed it, but Hunk couldn’t ignore the worry he felt in his gut whenever he saw him.
Keith forced a small smile. “I’m doing okay.”
Hunk frowned. No, it was clear as day he wasn’t. Bags under his eyes. The forced smiles he’d give them. The hesitation whenever Keith had to step into Black. Keith wasn’t okay. At the very least, he looked exhausted.
Problem was, Keith wouldn’t talk about that kind of stuff unless he felt like it. A person would have better luck getting Zarkon to laugh.
With a sigh, Hunk debated on what to do when his eyes landed upon the miniature freezer he and Pidge had built together. Oh, right, there was that.
Hunk looked back to Keith and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “You want some ice cream?”
For the first time in days, Keith raised his head with an expression of bafflement, and not one of grief or sadness. “You have ice cream?”
“Experimental ice cream,” Hunk said as he translated the reaction as a ‘yes’ and took out the container from the freezer. “I’ve been using the milk from Kaltenecker and trying to make a version of it with the other ingredients I’ve been gathering.”
He set the container between them on the table and rubbed his neck. “I haven’t told anyone else about it yet because I wanted to get the recipe right before letting them taste it.” He counted on his fingers. “First patch was too sweet, second too hard, and the third...well, it just didn’t taste good. This is my fourth batch and I haven’t tried it yet so-”
Keith reached out and grabbed his hands. “Hunk, it’s cool,” he said as he tried to show a genuine smile. “I’m happy to be a guinea pig for it, okay?”
Hunk gave a nod and went to fetch bowls, sporks and a large spork to dish it out. He got a couple of scoops for Keith and then some for himself. Hunk sat across from Keith with his bowl, but didn’t start to eat as he carefully watched Keith’s reaction.
The boy frowned as he saw the ice cream, dished up a sporkful and put it into his mouth. A look a pleasure spread across his face and Keith shut his eyes.
“I swear ice cream has never tasted good until this moment,” he stated.
Hunk chuckled. “You sure you aren’t just saying that because it’s been months since you’ve had ice cream?”
“Maybe,” Keith admitted as he eagerly took another mouthful, “but either way, it’s delicious.”
Hunk was doubtful until he took a bite. He let it linger on his tongue and nodded in approval. It was a tad sweeter than ice cream back home, but it was an improvement over his last attempts.
“It’s a good basic vanilla,” Hunk replied and sighed. “Now if only I could find something like strawberries.”
Keith gave a small smile as he stirred his spork in the dish. “Strawberry ice cream your favorite?”
“Yeah,” Hunk said as he took another mouthful. “Lance’s favorite is chocolate, and Pidge likes a chocolate and peanut butter combo.”
“Figures she would,” Keith said with a small chuckle.
Hunk swallowed his mouthful and tapped his spork against the bowl. “What’s your favorite?”
Keith looked up and rubbed his neck. “I’m..not that picky when it comes to ice cream.”
Hunk narrowed his eyes. “So..you don’t have a favorite flavor?”
Keith waved a hand side to side. “Well..technically I have two but that’s because one of them is harder to find.”
“Oh?” Hunk asked curiously. “What is it?”
Keith stirred is spork as he leaned back. “Well, one favorite is mint chocolate.”
Hunk gave an approving nod. “Yeah, I can see you liking that.” He tilted his head. “But I know that’s easy to find, what’s the other one?”
“Tiger tail,” Keith said as he sounded a little sheepish.
Hunk blinked and pointed his spork at him. “Tiger tail?”
“It’s hard to find,” Keith said as he ate another mouthful. “It’s orange ice cream with black licorice in it.”
He drew lines with the spork in the air like he was drawing them with invisible paint. “They’re done as black lines in the ice cream so it looks like tiger stripes.”
“Black licorice,” Hunk said slowly as he scratched his head and chuckled. “Sorry dude, but that does NOT sound appetizing to me.”
Keith shrugged. “Most people don’t, but I like it,” he said and then gave a small sad smile. “My last birthday, before Shiro went on the Kerberos mission, he actually found me a small tub of it.”
“Yeah?” Hunk said with a small smile. “What’s Shiro’s favorite flavor?”
Keith smirked a little. “Vanilla.”
Hunk’s jaw dropped. “Dude, no way. Just vanilla?”
“Yes,” Keith said and tossed his hands up in the air with the spork still in his hands. “I use to go to this ice cream parlor with him where they had 50 flavors and he choose vanilla. Everytime!” He shook his head as he crossed his arms. “Drove me crazy and I swear half the time he did it to tease me.”
Hunk pondered that and nodded. “Yeah, he would,” he said and looked to the container. “Guess I’ll make sure to save some of this for him then.”
Keith’s smile dropped and he leaned against his hand. “Yeah..if we can find him.”
Hunk’s eyes softened and he reached over to give Keith a comforting squeeze on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s not an ‘if’. We’re going to find him.”
Keith lowered his gaze as he stared into the bowl. “I know..it’s just,” he shook his head and his grip tightened on this spork. “I lost him once already, and Shiro’s...been the only real family I had for a long time.”
Keith raised his head, and wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand. “I..I can’t lose him again. I want to believe he’s okay, but..but..I can’t help-”
Hearing that, Hunk put down his spork, went around the table and engulfed Keith into a tight bearhug. He expected Keith to resist, but the boy leaned into him and wrapped his arms around him.
“Look, I don’t know when or how, but we will find him,” Hunk said as he rest his chin on Keith’s head. “And, if the worst happens and we don’t, you’re not alone. You got Allura, Coran, Pidge, Lance and me, okay? We would never abandoned you .”
Keith’s fingers gripped into his shirt and he felt him bury his face into his chest. They said nothing for several moments, until Keith released him.
“Thanks,” he whispered as he gave a shaky smile. “Sorry for..breaking down like that.”
“Hey, man, we all need to sometimes,” Hunk said as he sat next to him and reached for his bowl. “If it helps, if you ever need to talk or just..I don’t know need a hug, you can come to me.” He pointed his spork at him. “I promise I won’t ever judge you.”
Keith nodded and paused as he looked into his bowl. “Then..same to you,” he said with full sincerity. “I’m not good at comforting people, but if you just need an ear to listen to you I’m here.” He gave a small smirk. “And I’ll happily be your food guinea pig again.”
Hunk smiled back as he patted Keith’s back. “Thanks, and I’ll probably take you up on that offer.” He then looked back at the ice cream and sighed. “Man, I feel like this needs something.”
Keith stared at the bowl. “Like...sprinkles?”
“Yeah, but we don’t have any,” Hunk said mournfully.
“What about those cookies you baked the other day?” Keith said as he pointed to the leftovers in the corner. “They were good.”
Hunk snorted. “Also too crumbly,” he said with a wave of his hand. “They break apart as soon as you pick one up.”
They were a mess. Only reason Hunk didn’t throw them out was that everyone claimed they tasted great and shot dagger filled glares at him for even suggesting of tossing them out.
“Then aren’t they perfect to be ice cream toppings?” Keith offered. “You would want something that you can crumble and sprinkle over easily, right?”
Hunk paused, slowly turned to Keith and grinned as he pulled him into into a bear hug. “Keith, you’re a genius!” he declared as he then launched from his seat and went to get the cookies. “Let’s try it out, and if it’s a success I’ll serve this with dinner tomorrow for dessert.”
Keith gave a smile as he watched Hunk add the cookie topping, and that time Hunk could tell the smile wasn’t forced.
#heithweek2017#heith#hunk#keith kogane#voltron#vld#space dork red#space dork yellow#fanfic#my writing
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