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[tabbyrp]

If you think of any more fish puns…

let minnow.

[tabbyrp]

@brooklynislandgirl cont from [x] for funsies (dishonorable mentions to @therealgamble @tarnishedhalo @whosxafraid )

Tabby would be among the last people on earth to judge imagining a hot rocker losing his shirt while sailing. She only casts Vedder in his younger incarnation within her mind’s eye because it allows for some dramatic billowing of curly locks, standing against the ocean wind like an oil-painted romance book cover. It’s a pity that Beth is not the sibling with the ability to peek into minds, for Tabby is quite proud of the scene she’s created.

The mental landscape is, alas, scrubbed clean when Beth takes her turn in the idle coffee shop game. “Oh man. Give me a second.” Tabby reaches for her own latte, only to remember she guzzled the whole thing while Beth checked off her answers. She stalls by tearing off a chunk of the blueberry muffin between them, crumbs landing on the plate before the segment disappears into her mouth.

“Okay.” A swallow before she plows on. “The TV show is the hardest, just because getting any of those boys to take a whole day off for themselves is, like, rare. But get the right show, some beer and some pizza, and Brian would relax and maybe even enjoy it. So, he gets the pick.”

“Karaoke is Riley. Easy choice there, even if he would do the whole proper singing, instead of banshee screaming which is kind traditional when you’re on a stage trying to do Whitney or Celine.” Mischief appears on her face. “Remind me in seven months that we should go karaoke’ing for my birthday.”

The muffin tempts Tabby briefly, though she resists, playing with her empty coffee cup to keep idle fingers busy. “And Luka gets yoga class. Those small mats might be a bit of a squish for him, but I also kinda think he’s the most likely to find the class not total torture. He’s got the most inner calm, y’know?”

[tabbyrp]

I'm trying to remember what the French word for white is…..

But my mind keeps going blanc

[tabbyrp]

In the moment where Peter struggled to make words, her own lips twitched. Only the corners, forced back into neutrality quickly, and long before Tabby could say anything accidentally like how he made getting tongue-tied kind of adorable. Not that kind of adorable. Nothing that would make their close proximity suddenly awkward. It was the form which absolutely no teenage boy wanted to be called, reminiscent of a doddery aunt pinching their cheeks and calling them precious.

But that was still, undeniably, part of Peter’s charm. For Tabby, at least. She had known enough smooth talkers, always ready with the right words. Peter was sometimes messy and awkward and yes, sometimes fibbed, but he was blessedly real in all the right ways.

Also, he was a giant nerd, as evidenced by the gargoyle examples thrown out. Tabby nearly rolled her eyes, close to accusing him as such, except she did actually get the references. Admittedly cartoons were allowed on the communal TV more frequently than other forms of entertainment. Her defense one which would hardly stand up in the court of peer opinion. “That’s, like, a lot of short creatures you’re name dropping there. And Demona is a badass. I wouldn’t complain about looking like her.”

For all Tabby was mocking being offended, she couldn’t quite pull it off. Even less so when Peter pulled out his camera, handling it like a pro. The edges of adorable nerd fell away when he went into photographer mode. There, he was at ease. Confident and certain. Just watching the subtle shift softened Tabby in turn, content in seeing her friend, however briefly, in his element.

“I’ve always got bad jokes to tell.” Tabby’s hazel eyes turned upwards towards the sky, the way they always did when she stopped to give serious thought. A swift flick through her mental catalog pulled up something suitable. “Okay. What sound does a sneezing gargoyle make?” The standard pause before the punchline, looking a tiny bit pleased at herself for hitting the theme. “Stat-choo.” Tabby even mixed in the sound of a sneeze, animated in her comedic performance. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

Peter felt more than a twinge of guilt in his choice to avoid being forthcoming with Tabby. From the time of their meeting they'd seemed to develop something of a habit of oversharing on all the details that seemed unimportant, followed somewhere in there by an apology for being so talkative, chased quickly by a reassurance that there was no need for apology.

That tit-for-tat hadn't evaporated, but it had taken on a different state, for sure. Maybe it had cooled from its liquid form into something more solid, but less malleable. That didn't mean it was a bad thing, though. Foundations couldn't exist as liquids… there had to be something solid there.

Though maybe just now, he found himself wondering how solid Tabby was feeling that foundation to be. He knew that look. And it only made sense. Of course she would be wondering what was really up. He sucked at lying; it's why he normally did his best not to. She deserved better from him.

When she rested her head on his shoulder, though, he felt a certain degree of tension slip away from his body, and a slight warmth crawl up his neck. It was rare for him to be a pillow. But from what she was sharing with him, it was almost immediately apparent that she needed the comfort. He avoided circling her waist with his arm; setting aside that he didn't know whether that's where they were, he also wasn't entirely certain he could be careful enough for such an embrace to be gentle and not crushing. Ever since the bite, his proprioception had needed some serious fine-tuning.

He was about to put forth the hopeful opinion that teenagers held a certain appeal to adults who were wise enough and kind enough to realize they needed love too, and perhaps on that logic alone she had reason to hope for a match that might be lasting -- but she was already on to pushing money in his direction.

His lips weren't quite sure how to respond to her gallows humor, and for a mortifying moment he felt very much like Porky Pig. His only saving grace was that the twisting and stammering of his lips was not supplemented by the sound of his voice. Finally he managed to regain control of his wits enough to offer a dry chuckle.

"Okay, well, if they made you look like a gargoyle, are we talking Demona? Goliath? Lexington? Or maybe those three stumpy guys from Hunchback? I need a range here." Now his arm circled behind her, but remained loose in its presence, not quite settling about her but a hint of a presence across her back. "And hang on to your cash, you might need it. For friends, I'll do pro bono."

He pulled up his bag -- a nylon sack with narrow black rope for shoulder straps -- and dug into it, withdrawing his camera a moment later. He set the bag down beside her and took a step down the bleachers, then turned toward her and brought the device halfway up, but stopped with an expression that said he was striking upon an idea. "Hold up, though. Before I just snap a shot. Got any bad jokes you wanna tell?"

[tabbyrp]

“Closure, schmlosure.” It was hardly the most eloquent way to sum up her feelings. Tabby still regretted nothing. “I mean, yeah, the two of you should talk. And maybe you both should, like, figure out who you are as people and life goals and stuff.” It was as much of an accommodation she could make to her ideal outcome of this situation, which was Gabrielle and Peter running off in elopement to go make ridiculously adorable babies. The scene in her imagination even had cartoon birds carrying between their beaks a banner announcing the wedding.

Cory was though, as usual, right in her approach. The gentler touch to guide and support. Tabby had to physically straighten to repress her urge to detail a clear five-step plan to start filling that nursery. Hands folded over the table in a mimicry of decorum, so she didn’t gesture wildly about overthrowing the oppressive old-money mentality which had led to bad times all round. “But c’mon. You can’t go and marry Plan B.”

Gabrielle sighed. “How do you even start reversing that process?” Her thumb flicked absently at a bare ring finger before she stilled the gesture. “I know my fiancé isn’t wildly in love with me. That doesn’t negate the social implications. Having to explain it to our family and friends...”

“It’s either figure things out now, or explain it in twenty years when your kids are in heavy duty therapy because mommy and daddy end up hating each other.” Casting a sideward glance at Cory, checking herself, Tabby tried to pull her composure back into place. Maybe she didn’t understand the complexities of life in the upper class. Perhaps it was easy for her to be dismissive. Heaven knew she didn’t come from a functional family and for all the rom-coms she and Cory watched, they were still fiction. “Or, as smarter people tend to say, being honest is a pretty good place to start.”

Shifting in the booth, Tabby nudged Corinne’s bag with her hip, where a certain multi-carat ring still hid. “And you're probably going to need your ring, because you’re going to have to give that back, for starters.”

@tabbyrp cont. from (x)

A harsh suck on her inner cheek kept Tabby from blurting out I knew it upon Gabrielle’s confession. Brimming with a swirling mix of triumphant excitement, she was indeed immediately switching into romantic matchmaking mode, playing out the various paths ahead in her mind’s eye until each variable was wrangled into submission. Only Corinne’s calmer, more empathetic response tempered her impetuous urge to lean across the table and outlay the perfect Cinderella ending.

Instead, Tabby watched and tracked Gabrielle’s response. The woman appeared unused to someone showing concern over her actual feelings. No big gestures or nods, but instead small expressions to indicate that, yes, Cory was hitting all the right points about what had caused the bride to bolt. A cast aside of her gaze. A twitch of her lips. Unbidden, it stirred up more memories of that time of Tabby’s time with Tripp and dating within the ‘House in the Hamptons’ set. The formal visit to meet the parents, lit with such a gilded glow, until the surface became scratched. Reason outranked emotion, desires came second to status, and none were allowed to be messy with their feelings, lest it reflect badly on the legacy name. At the time, her wounded sense of self was all that mattered. Now, faced with another product of the upper crust doctrine, Tabby could comprehend that some suffered on that other side of existence.

Not that it made her ex or his family any less obnoxious. Gabrielle wasn’t them, though, and when the woman looked painfully full of both hope and chagrin over the emphasis on Hot Tipper’s misgivings, Tabby acted with something closer to restraint as she boosted Corinne’s gentler comments.

“Loads of regrets. About you. Not about the rest of his life. He’s clearly got his career and all that stuff on track, despite choosing to come here to drink.” Without the man around to defend his case, Tabby decided it was necessary to ensure he got put in the best possible light. “We might not have the same kind of aged whiskeys you’ll get on Wall Street, but the customer service is second to none.”

The last quip roused a flicker of amusement from across the table. “I’m beginning to understand the ongoing appeal.” Gabrielle’s smile lasted only a moment before fading. “I was terrible to Peter. He was kind. Intelligent. Charming, in how he gave anyone he spoke to his full attention, and listened to what was said. He made such an effort to fit in with my friends, my life, my goals.” Her gaze lowered to the empty finger where a ring had once between, before continuing. “But he was so idealistic. Thought love could conquer all. I started to resent it, in a way. I appreciate this sounds shallow, as if I couldn’t manage without a steady supply of Birkin bags. It wasn’t that, though. I would have to give up my life. My family. Everything I’d known.” She let out a soft sigh. “I picked the safe option, instead of gambling it all on him. A safe breakup. A safe job. A safe new fiancé. Who knew that being safe could be so…” In the pause lingered that old conflict between the messiness of human emotion, and maintaining the blue-blood control, until one won out. “…miserable. I’m fucking miserable.”

Corinne snuck glances at Tabby as their new acquaintance basically confirmed their unlikely fairy tale scenario actually had some merit. She could practically guess just how difficult it was for Tabby to stop from proclaiming some form of victorious exclamation about how right she’d been all along. Corinne had to press her lips together and mostly avoid eye contact with her friend for a good ten-second count before she trusted herself to keep a straight face.

She was proud of Tabby for keeping her romantic thoughts to herself while the woman, played out solely through facial expressions, seemed to run through an entire romance plot line fit for a Hallmark movie of the week. At least Corinne was convinced Tabby was sure of it. Though, as a small smile filtered through her own expression, she was kind of sure that Tabby had been on to something. Those thoughts remained chattering in her head for the moment.

Corinne couldn’t quite get a read on the thoughts running through Tabby’s head a their new friend relayed her tale. Though she wasn’t surprised when Tabby chimed in that she championed their hot tipper now known as Peter and portrayed him in the best possible light really effectively spun out of the few facts they knew about him. It was an innate ability Tabby possessed along with her starry eyed romantic nature hidden beneath a shell made of nylon strength resolve, street smarts, and the uncanny ability to read people like books. It was a thing of beauty and something she never failed to admire in her friend.

As much as Tabby had been through, she still possessed that heart of gold wishing for everyone she met to be paired up with the right person. And since she’d decided their star crossed bar patron of legendary tipping and good looks should naturally rescue the unhappy heiress unwilling to give up money and comfort, oh but wait… Corinne let out a silent laugh and shook her head to clear the apparently contagious matchmaking fantasy inspired by watching way to many romcoms.

Corinne couldn’t help but laugh at Gabrielle’s reaction and what seemed to be slightly begrudging admission that she could understand why her former flame frequented the bar. “It is a great place to get lost in your thoughts or regrets.” Corinne agreed. “Not to mention the outstanding and discreet service.” She added with a beaming smile at her friend. 

And as she listened to Gabrielle, Corinne couldn’t help but feel herself soften and want to do join Tabby in doing what they could to help two people who seemed to be harboring mirroring unresolved feelings. She took a deep breath and dove in when the young woman confessed to being miserable. “So Gabrielle, perhaps you two should at least talk, if nothing else than to give each other some closure.” Corinne told her gently. She could practically feel the energy coming from Tabby, assuming she’d likely want to add in something much more hopeful and romantic. She smiled, turned her head towards her friend, smiling and nodding nearly imperceptibly. “What do you think, Tabs?” She asked, basically throwing the door wide open. Not that Tabby needed anyone’s permission to run with it.

[tabbyrp]

Morning sugar! Can I buy your forgiveness for all my extra shifts this week?

Nothing to forgive but I also won’t say no to a donut either.

[tabbyrp]

Morning babe! Have a good Bon Jovi day!

Happy lemon and pear day babe. I am going to rock this look today

[tabbyrp]

spring mood.

[tabbyrp]

Whoa, we’re halfway there…

_________

Whoooooa nom nom nom

[tabbyrp]

Happy halfway there day, babe!

Love you too, sexy face.

[tabbyrp]

There was no debate as to which one of them was more academically inclined. Peter went to Midtown High, after all. A bona-fide genius. But Tabby was no idiot. She picked through the rub of neck, the bashful smile, and knew before the end of his reply that Peter was fibbing. She would have called him out on it, if not for him folding a few seconds later and fleshing out the details. 

They really needed to work on his ability to lie and get away with it. 

A niggle remained, suspecting certain facts remained omitted. The itch somewhere beneath Tabby’s skin that Peter was avoiding the most salient part of his story. Her mind flicked through random puzzle pieces that could slot into the gap. Had he been distracted by a certain blonde classmate? Had his bag been taken by one of those bullies among Peter’s classmates? She wanted to know, as a friend. And as a friend, she ultimately had to defer to his choice. Both their lives carried a certain mess to them, and a cornerstone of their relationship was respecting that.  

In the companionable silence, Tabby also glanced out towards the field. She wasn’t particularly invested in the score, having chosen this as her good behavior reward solely for the interborough transportation. Catching up with Peter was rarely easy, yet always worth it. As his shoulder settled into hers, Tabby rested her head upon the bridge their bodies created. Something about him felt... different. A subtle change which Tabby couldn’t quite identify. More solid maybe. Not enough to make it uncomfortable and not enough to make her pry if he’d been hitting the weights lately. It was her turn to open up, after all. 

“Y’know, same as usual. Though speaking of being forced to interact with people, I got sent to one of those foster care fairs. Can you believe it?” Tabby’s head lifted as she began to recount the tale with wry animation. “Like, no one ever takes the teenagers. We are just there to make the grade schoolers look as cute as the ones in kindergarten. You have never seen so much hair put into pigtails. And I bet half of them got dosed with Benadryl, so they’d behave.” Her tale lacked any self-pity, only recounted because, to her, it was funny. 

“They even updated our files with polaroids and man, they made me look like a gargoyle.” Tabby paused, her expression brightening. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. I will pay you...” She wedged a hand into the confines of her jean pocket, emerging with a fistful of change and two crumpled dollar bills. “…whatever this is if you’ve brought your camera and take a decent picture of me. Plus, you must take on the responsibility of making sure that if I’m ever one of those missing people on TV, they use your picture and not that hideous gremlin one.” Tabby almost managed to make it sound like a valid scenario to be concerned about. “It’s not exactly going to cover the cost of your burner Bourne phone, but you’ll be doing very important work.” 

i tried calling you a hundred times, but you never answered - Peter from Tabby

[ The Hearts We Hold / Accepting ]

"...yeah. Uh." Peter's hand shifted up to behind his neck and rubbed the base of his spine, his lips curving into a smile that bore more embarrassment than mirth. "I, uh... I kind of... lost my phone."

Not entirely the truth, not completely a lie -- but it was the best he could do under the present circumstances. Was he really supposed to explain to Tabs what he did during the moonlight hours? That he'd been chasing a purse-snatcher and had experienced the mortifying reality of having his discarded backpack disappear from the place he'd put it?

On the other hand, that last might be a little more palatable than just presenting her with the not-quite-facts. "It was in my backpack. Whole thing got swiped. But whoever got it, they got my pre-calc book and my gym socks too, so I guess the joke is on them?"

He tried to give her an expression that was maybe not quite so defeated, but allowed his shoulders to sag as he sighed only a moment after. His gaze swept across the baseball diamond, their respective teams already into the second inning by the time he'd found Tabs sitting in a corner all her own on the bleachers.

"Anyway. My aunt said I have to scare up the money for a new one on my own. Probably just try to get a flip phone, maybe. One of those burners like you see in the Bourne movies." His mouth twisted to one side in a not-quite-grimace. "And meantime, I've gotta interact with people like I'm normal. Who even does that anymore?"

He slid a little closer to her and leaned a shoulder into hers. "So how're things?"

[tabbyrp]

A singer in a smokey room  Potential death any which way they went.    A smell of wine and cheap perfume  She might have messed up their escape plan.   For a smile they can share the night  Singing was ridiculous.  It goes on and on and on and on 

And still, Tabby belted out the last line of the verse, drawing out each ‘on’ as if she was drunk at a karaoke bar. Deacon needed no encouragement to amp up his own dramatics, the gun-free hand now gripping an invisible microphone. He never stopped his casual 360° scan, eyes still tracking their front and tail, even while offering the ‘microphone’ towards Tabby in the backseat as they worked through the chorus. 

Brian’s trick worked. In that brief millisecond when she was only thinking of the music, Tabby could forget the stakes. When reality came back, she had space to breathe. There was little they could do while the tires rumbled over the sun-streaked asphalt, except keep watch, and as the first song came to an end, she launched them into another with, “Tommy used to work on the docks...”  

The high notes were a stretch, but it filled the silence long enough to reach their destination.  White arrows upon a green sign pointed towards the exit, and beneath the next town’s name, someone had stuck a tattered piece of cardboard. In thick Sharpie letters, it proclaimed the end is here.   

“I miss when it was just environmental protests being stuck onto road signs.” Tabby gave the doomsday notice no further thought as the three of them stepped out. It was quiet, no evidence of another living or not-living human within sight. Even with binoculars lifted, the most was a farmstead tucked far back from the road, windows drawn tight and barbed wire glinting along the edge of the porch.  

“Looks clear to me.” Deacon kept sweeping even as he made the statement, checking and double-checking the road spindling towards another town and the quickest loop back towards his family. “What about you, Gamble?”

tabbyrp​:

It spoke to the seriousness of the situation that Tabby didn’t even curse. The blood left her face, leaving freckles stark against white skin, but panic stayed pushed down as she twisted around and yanked the map open. The tip of her finger first sought their location among the scattered dot and inked lines, then urgently tried to trace the best route out. On the endless things she missed about their old existence, Google Maps had sprung to the top of the list.

“I’m looking, just need a moment.” Getting clear of the swarm was task one. After that, it was the usual multitude of risks to weigh up. On a clear stretch of asphalt, the SUV could easily outpace the herd. But all it took was a couple of burnt-out wrecks to create roadblock. The closer they got to urban spaces, the bigger the risk of human problems. Hell, even nature liked to throw down a tree or powerline on occasion.

“There’s an exit ten miles ahead. We should pull off there and do a quick scope out with the binoculars. Our best chance will be to do a loop via the next town over and hopefully come out behind the herd and back on the route we came in. Kinda exposed but should let us move quickly if there’s no obstacles. If not….”

Tabby paused while doing another sweep over the map, in case there was a recourse she had missed. “…we’re back on the highway to the next off ramp and aiming for the mountain roads. There are some cabins out that way so might be an option if we need to hide for a night, or they might be filled with cannibals that wear people’s faces.” A certain subsection of slasher horror had infused her imagination with those potential details, and after the dead began refusing to stay dead, Tabby wasn’t always joking.

In the rear-view mirror, Deacon glanced back towards the roaming corpses, then to her. “And straight?” 

A small shake of her head forewarned the answer. “That’s aiming us towards the interstate.” Those were a mess. The first route people took en masse to escape, and the first to become a sprawling steel-coffin graveyard.

“Alright, so we have a plan.” Brian glanced into the rearview mirror, giving Tabby an encouraging smile. “And a plan B. We’ll be fine.” His training kicked in in moments like these, keeping him calm, allowing him to sound like he was in charge and confident. It was a good skill to have, especially with the world turned upside down.

He sped up, wanting to put as much space as possible between them and the corpses they’d left behind. If something went wrong they might have to run for it, and even though they could all run pretty fast and hard, every inch counted. Some of the road signs were starting to look faded, but he had a good idea of where she was leading them and he trusted that she’d picked the best route, but still, there was a gnawing doubt in the pit of his stomach.

God he wished the radio worked. But since it didn’t, he started to sing.

Just a small town girl Livin’ in a lonely world She took the midnight train going anywhere Just a city boy Born and raised in South Detroit He took the midnight train going anywhere

It was nuts, he knew, but it was also a good way to cut the tension for everyone. By the time he’d reached the fourth line, Deacon had joined in. It was a trick they’d both learned in the military - take your mind completely off of the problem so that your brain has a moment to catch up. And of course it also had the added benefit of making people laugh.

[tabbyrp]

Have you heard about the chocolate record player?

It sounds pretty sweet.

[tabbyrp]

I accidentally swallowed some food coloring.

I feel like I’ve dyed a little inside.

[tabbyrp]

Happy halfway there day!

Happy take-down-the-week day, sexy face.

[tabbyrp]

Dearest @brooklynislandgirl

It is utterly rude of the universe that your birthday is aligned with prepping for book week. I hope there has been moments of celebratory delight regardless.

As is the case every year, I don't have the proper words for how much I appreciate and admire you. But you are awesome and I hope the next rotation around the sun is filled with only the best of things for you.

Love always

Tabby-mun (and Tabby-muse sends her affection also).

[tabbyrp]

How do you make a water bed bouncier?

Use spring water