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legionworld2017-09-02 01:06 am
letsgolegion) wrote in legionworld2017-09-02 01:06 am
Entry tags:
FOOD FIGHT
Who| Anyone who wants in
What| FOOD FIIIGHT
Where| The Mess Hall
When| A few days after "Resistance is Futile" and "An Eye For An Eye"
Warnings/Notes| Nope. Just some good clean fun
The last missions had been rough, but all missions were pretty rough anymore. Still, there was an extra bit of horribleness in seeing innocent people transformed into monsters, especially when it happened to teammates. A few had faced even more trauma while trying to put said teammates down, before it was known that the zombies could regenerate or that a cure was possible.
So the Mess Hall is tense and quiet in the days after the missions. Nobody's being very social, the native Legionnaires are quiet, even the staff are quiet when they're usually pretty chatty in the Mess. Everyone's caught in a groove of that sluggish post-crisis emotional exhaustion.
But then the donut hits. It goes in a soaring arc through the air and hits its target in the face, frosting first.
Everything freezes and stares wide-eyed, trying to figure out who threw it. The tension ratchets up a notch.
Then it breaks.
Someone takes advantage of the moment to do something they've dreamed of emulating from every kid or teen comedy they've ever seen, and screams:
"FOOOOD FIIIIGHT!"
It isn't long before tofurkey rains from the air like a plague. Noodles whip across the room in handfuls. Various rainbow colored puddings and deserts soon become dangerous artillery. Even the staff, who'd spent all that time making the food, gets in on it, taking advantage of the moment to do something wild they never dreamed they'd be able to do - throw mashed potatoes at the faces of the people they serve every day.
The Legion hasn't had an easy time of things over this last year or so, and it hasn't been getting any easier. But they have this moment, on the other side of yet another mission they survived, after yet more villains they've beaten. And right now, the worst they all have to worry about is getting soy whipped cream in their hair.
[ooc: Feel free to make whatever threads you want, with your characters doing whatever they want.]
What| FOOD FIIIGHT
Where| The Mess Hall
When| A few days after "Resistance is Futile" and "An Eye For An Eye"
Warnings/Notes| Nope. Just some good clean fun
The last missions had been rough, but all missions were pretty rough anymore. Still, there was an extra bit of horribleness in seeing innocent people transformed into monsters, especially when it happened to teammates. A few had faced even more trauma while trying to put said teammates down, before it was known that the zombies could regenerate or that a cure was possible.
So the Mess Hall is tense and quiet in the days after the missions. Nobody's being very social, the native Legionnaires are quiet, even the staff are quiet when they're usually pretty chatty in the Mess. Everyone's caught in a groove of that sluggish post-crisis emotional exhaustion.
But then the donut hits. It goes in a soaring arc through the air and hits its target in the face, frosting first.
Everything freezes and stares wide-eyed, trying to figure out who threw it. The tension ratchets up a notch.
Then it breaks.
Someone takes advantage of the moment to do something they've dreamed of emulating from every kid or teen comedy they've ever seen, and screams:
"FOOOOD FIIIIGHT!"
It isn't long before tofurkey rains from the air like a plague. Noodles whip across the room in handfuls. Various rainbow colored puddings and deserts soon become dangerous artillery. Even the staff, who'd spent all that time making the food, gets in on it, taking advantage of the moment to do something wild they never dreamed they'd be able to do - throw mashed potatoes at the faces of the people they serve every day.
The Legion hasn't had an easy time of things over this last year or so, and it hasn't been getting any easier. But they have this moment, on the other side of yet another mission they survived, after yet more villains they've beaten. And right now, the worst they all have to worry about is getting soy whipped cream in their hair.
[ooc: Feel free to make whatever threads you want, with your characters doing whatever they want.]
the instigator
It's one of the first proper non-hospital meals she's had since she's arrived. And yet, the attitude of the cafeteria is somber, strained. She knows what they've been through, though she didn't go through it herself.
So she turns her gaze to a man nearby with brown hair at the next table over - he looks just as somber as the rest of them. Calmly, with minimal movements, she picks up her donut, and chucks it overhand towards him.
It hits him square in the face - his nose even peeks through the hole.
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There's no surprise to those who know him that it's hit Vance as hard as it has anybody else. So he's not paying the least bit of attention to his surroundings because he's in a safe place, even if bits of it are still being reconstructed.
So it's not that strange that a donut to the face? Takes him completely by surprise. It's almost comical, the way that Vance splutters, donut falling off of his face (because his nose isn't long enough or sharp enough to keep it there), eyes wide in shock for all of a few seconds.
And he hears the snickers, the people trying to keep it quiet but the humor of the moment breaks a bit of the tension. And Vance? Vance is a good enough leader to realize that looking stupid is a good enough reason to get rid of it. And, as he contemplates his food, there's worse things than looking a bit silly, too.
Which is why he grins, scooping up his protein mush and turning, using the spoon as a catapult to throw it to the other side of the room. While his TK flings some back in the general direction of the donut tosser.
sssso this tag disappeared, idk if i deleted it or what but THIS WASN'T MEANT TO BE SO LATE
Attack still means defense, so she hardens, which - really just means she gets protein mush on her arm. She unfreezes herself, then looks down in her arm in annoyance before she's grabbing a spoon, and taking aim with her own mush back at Vance.
Or she would, if someone didn't try to fling chopped fruit at her and she has to roll away, ending up closer to Vance.
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Cybertronians consume energon, which is more of a fuel than a meal, and is still rare and valuable in the aftermath of a millenia-long war. It's still odd to Sawtooth that it can be synthesized so easily on Legion World, or that it's obtainable in the same area where food is made, but if it works for the Legion's staffers, then it works for him. That said, he doesn't spend much time in the mess hall - what's the point?
He's also never seen any kid or teen comedies, so when the donut is thrown and what looks like all-out war breaks out, he-
...well, he panics momentarily and hides under a table. What is going on? Did something else happen? Has everyone lost their minds? He has no idea, and as long as that's the case, he definitely doesn't want to get involved.
2: Mission Accepted
After he's had an explanation as to what's happening and been informed that it's not actually dangerous and should, in fact, be fun, he sees no reason not to join in. He darts in between people and tables, tossing spaghetti into hair and hurling drinks like grenades, grinning toothily all the while. A particularly unlucky person might find a trident, moving all on its own thanks to once again functional flight rings, catapulting an entire pie at their face.
closed to Pidge
It's every kid's dream that they can be involved in an actual food fight.
Which means he's not on guard at all and his teke field isn't up.
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Sometimes reading someone's motivations is hard for her. Sometimes, just when she thinks she has a person figured out, they switch everything up on her. And sometimes...she just needs to ask.
Pidge has been through enough green goo mishaps at the castle to avoid the worst of the food fight, taking only a few olives and half an oatmeal-raisin cookie to the back. The noise and the chaos combined with Dipper's apparent obliviousness makes it easy enough to sneak behind him and squeeze a pudding cup out over his head.
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"Hi," he says nervously. "It's good to see you up and around."
Then...
"Bye!"
And he bolts again, dodging meatball artillery fire, and diving under tables in an effort to escape.
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Pidge is able to keep on his heels fairly well, at one point snagging a tray and using it as a shield. She keeps making grabs for his shirt or his leg. Anything that will keep him exactly where she wants him!
"You're going to explain everything to me! Right now!"
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He yelps as she does it, and struggles half-heartedly but since he doesn't want to hurt her, there's not much he can do. Mostly, he just tries to keep squirming away from her grasp.
"I told you we don't have to do this right now!" But that's not it, that's not what's behind all this. He finally says what he's really feeling, blurting out, "I don't want to do this right now! It was bad enough thinking you were dead, and now we have to do the whole 'I just want to be friends' thing when I already know that's how it is, and I can totally deal with it and just be friends, and you don't even need to say it."
He stops struggling.
"I just don't want it to have to be a whole thing, and I don't want it to make our friendship all weird and awkward, especially when all I want to do right now is just hug you or something and be glad you're okay."
And especially when it doesn't have to be. He knows how to be a just-friends friend, he's a champ at it now.
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Pidge is so shocked she bolts upright, totally forgetting she's under a table. Her yelp as she bangs her head on the underside is accompanied by the clinking of glasses and silverware. She sinks back down, just a little embarrassed.
Maybe she can use the bonk as a way to reset. He's so frustrating! He's so sweet and funny and brave and also one of the most infuriating people she's ever met. And she's including Lance.
"What do you mean? Why would you just assume that's how I feel?!"
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He takes advantage of her little surprised jump to wrest himself from her grasp, but he doesn't run away this time. Obviously, running away isn't going to work. He has to just confront this. She's not going to let it go, but that really isn't a surprise with how stubborn and tenacious she is.
He has to really think about it. He knows why he thinks she isn't interested, but communicating it is something else entirely. It involves admitting to some insecurities and calling attention to his very obvious flaws.
"Look at me." He gestures to all of himself. "That stupid calendar shoot we did aside, I'm not exactly someone that'd be on the cover of Teen Boy Cute Beat Monthly."
Even though he's put on at least a little muscle, he's practically swimming in his hoodie. He's short and scrawny, even for his real age, and he has a baby face, and sweaty palms, and knobbly knees, and noodly arms, and a voice that cracks, and...
"I'm not like Jason," he says, with an audible 'ugh' to his voice when saying his name. "Or even like Sam."
Who is skinnier but still more muscular than Dipper. He looks properly superheroic, even if he's tiny compared to people like Rich.
"And the first practice we had you saw me totally lose it while sparring with Wash, and you've seen me when I was all crazy and weird, and I was even a literal monster that tried to eat you."
He knows he's a good person (sort of). He knows he's done some heroic stuff. He does have at least a little confidence in himself. But he's still a scrawny weirdo that drips creepy on the floor and she's seen plenty of the worst of it.
"It's okay. I know you care about me as a friend. I'll never be able to do enough to repay you for what you did, for making it so I didn't have to -- so that didn't happen to me. Again."
He fiddles with the sleeves of his hoodie, not looking her in the eye, pudding still dripping down his face.
"So, it's cool. We're cool. I can do the just-friends thing. I'm sorry I've been a jerk about it, especially when you need your friends around, but this whole thing was just really embarrassing the last time, and I really didn't want things to get all weird between us. Except I made them get weird anyway, I guess, but why don't we just move past it and go back to the way it was?"
Problem solved, right? They can still stay friends. Just-friends. Because yes, he's still assuming that's all she wants to be, especially when he was a jerk and ran away.
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She's still kind of reeling from all of this, and his breakdown of all his insecurities doesn't help. She's certain she never said anything about wanting a muscle-bound man. Where did this even come from?
"Look at me, Dipper. What if I told you that I knew you didn't like me because I didn't look like...I dunno, whoever the hottest woman in Legion is!"
She's getting worked up and she doesn't know how to stop it. It's like her mouth is running away from her brain totally out of her control.
"And it's not just that! You're my best friend, and we never would have gotten to this point if all that weirdness never happened! I'm not good at expressing my feelings or even knowing what they are sometimes, I know that, but it's just that...when I was in medbay I had some time to think. And I thought about what you said and why I was so determined to get you out and why I tricked you and I realized..."
She has to gasp for a breath before she can finish.
"I realized I like you too! Like-like you, I mean!"
There. She said it. She can't take it back.
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For a moment, it looks like his brain is completely rebooting, like that sentiment was enough for it to reach the cerebral equivalent of a blue screen.
And then he finally looks up at her again, and his expression looks...actually hopeful. His furrowed brows relax a little.
"Like-like? Like, seriously?"
His cheeks start flushing bright pink.
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Suddenly, she's feeling giddy, like the feeling she had the first time she ever flew her lion. Weightless and excited and a little scared and about to do something she's never done before. She shrugs and smiles, feeling her own cheeks heat.
"So...now what?"
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This? This seemed way more good natured, easy, relaxed. Tucker wasn’t sure who started it, but he wasn’t mad; this place sure as hell needed something uplifting like this after what they had been through. Just as long as it wasn’t precious alcohol, he personally didn’t have to clean it up, and it didn’t get in his hair, he was fine. Hell, he was more than fine; he was happy.
So, picking up a roll and tossing it a few times in his hand to test the weight, he flung it high in the air and hoped it would land on someone good. Why not? Let’s do this shit.
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"What's the meaning of this? I just got here, and food's flying all over the place! Who—"
Perhaps he should have kept quiet, for a colorful pudding sails gracefully across the hall and nails Gaelio in the mouth. He swings backward from the unexpected impact of the ill-timed dessert, possibly headbutting any hapless souls behind him in the process. Pity; he'd just wanted to eat his exotic meal in peace.
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Of course, quaint though it may be, it's still a mess he'd like little part of, so once things start picking up, McGillis takes his napkin and quietly stands to excuse himself. It's difficult to navigate with all the crossfire, and in carefully trying to avoid it, he's not paying enough attention to notice Gaelio, either before he's struck with the space pudding or after. And that is how McGillis becomes one of the hapless souls Gaelio bumps into, because such is his luck (or maybe it's karma).
It's just going to be that kind of day, he guesses.
"My apologies," he says, mostly to be polite. He barely spares Gaelio a glance before he starts to turn away and continue, but the glance is all it takes to give him pause. That's probably an understatement—he stops, mind and body. Very few things could catch McGillis off-guard, but this? This sure does it. In a rare moment, there are no smart comebacks or smooth words, nothing cool to deflect his true feelings for the situation, just... genuine surprise.
He's going to need a minute to process this one.
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Of all his senses, Gaelio's hearing has always been his sharpest. Even in the chaos of the mess hall, it remains true enough that he seems to recognize the voice before he registers to whom it belongs. He grips the edge of the table and promptly rights himself, then twists at the torso to catch an eyeful of familiar golden hair.
"McGillis! I didn't know that you were here, too." He opens his mouth, only to grunt as something hits him on the shoulder with a disturbing squelch. Grimacing, he swings his legs over the seat and stands, an arm held over his face for protection. Being quiet under normal circumstances, he doesn't think to question McGillis' unusual pause. "Let's get out of here first!"
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It's surreal, really... And kind of nostalgic. It's been two years since the last time he saw Gaelio, maybe even longer since he last spoke to him like this. (Excluding, of course, the memories that just wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried.) Logically, it's entirely reasonable that Gaelio could end up here... McGillis couldn't question all this time travel stuff, even if it was strange to think it could be real. Their situation was proof of it. And yet, for as entirely possible as this is, it was a thought that had never even occurred to him. After all, what reason was there to wonder about someone who was long since dead?
He clenches a fist at his side, as if to steel himself for... whatever this was going to be. And he follows suit, an arm held over his face as they continue their escape. Once they're outside and out of the way, he looks over at Gaelio, and...
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"
Hah... ha... It doesn't feel right, truthfully, but he does what he figures Gaelio is expecting—a friendly, teasing greeting, and then he offers him the napkin he saved, because it looks like he could make far better use of it.
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"It feels like it's been a while," he says, because it feels as though an indiscernible time has passed since his awakening. "Did you just arrive?"
He wasn't with McGillis when he was seemingly plucked from their dimension. But Gaelio can't imagine a significant gap between them. They weren't apart for so long to warrant even the thought.
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It was a complicated situation to begin with, but this just made things even more so.
"Are you alright?"
Just in general, in case he has any grievances to air. From the food fight, from finding himself here, or maybe any mortal wounds, for example—
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He supposes that that makes sense. If anyone from their dimension would be here, it would be McGillis. Gaelio doubts that most of Gjallarhorn's higher authorities would be willing to acquiesce to such changes.
"I'll be fine. But if this is how the Legionnaires conduct themselves, I don't know how anyone can eat in peace. Is there something that I'm missing?"
He peels off the last of the food that doesn't belong on his body, all wrapped in the napkin as much as it'll allow. In his haste, he'd abandoned his own morsel, but he also finds that he isn't hungry anymore. If anything, he's relieved to see a familiar face whom he can trust, the relief overpowering any irritation he might have been bottling up.
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"Let's hope that this isn't a typical occurrence on Legion World," he said. Otherwise, he would have Regrets. It seemed like the smarter choice to join the Legion in order to get a better understanding for their situation, but even his patience would run thin if this sort of thing happened all the time. "It would be a miracle to see how they get anything done around here."
He could suggest that the next time, they eat somewhere else to guarantee peace, but he catches himself. Thus begins the complications. For him, too, there is relief in seeing a familiar face here, especially one that, technically, he should never have seen again. It's more than relief, really—it's good to see him alive and well... but this already feels like a lie, and if there's anyone in his life that he'd been (mostly) truthful with, it was Gaelio. But what good would it do to be truthful with him here, now? He's not sure of the answer, so for now, he opts to keep a safe distance.
"You should probably get cleaned up," he says instead, taking off his own food-stained jacket.
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But first, he tosses the napkin and its offensive contents. Those don't need to follow him.
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McGillis can't say no to him in this situation (but maybe a part of him doesn't want to, anyway). He starts to follow, and already it feels too much like old times.
"After you, then. Though I think I've already made my feelings quite clear."
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