#multiplist

[scriose]

         ‘ is that a... fixed... expression? ’ he isn’t playing  ---  he really doesn’t know what’s inspired such a look from summer. does he owe an apology for something? has he made a fool of himself and failed to notice? ‘ growing concerned. i’ll be honest. ’

@multiplist!

[shatterdoom]

[ :// suspension rescinded. ] newton. kaiju in water are still not wet.

NOTICE: H. GOTTLIEB ACCOUNT SUSPENSION LIFTED.

YOU HACKING BITCH!

NOTICE: N. GEISZLER ACCOUNT SUSPENDED. The server has automatically suspended you for saying a banned word. You said: “bitch”.

[shatterdoom]

@multiplist

Newton’s hit a wall--metaphorically speaking (this time)--with his research. Something about the the theoretical blah-ways of nerve fibers in the you know in kaiju clones and look, even his own mind isn’t finishing its thoughts because he’s just so done right now. He’s been working on this for eleven hours. And, I mean, don’t get him wrong, it’s amazing theories (his theories, all of it, just so we’re clear), he’s amazing, but also, can we stress again: so done. He’s tired, man. He needs something new to throw around in the old skull dome.

These are the kinds of times when Newton throws things at the wall (still metaphorically speaking (usually) barring that one incident with the chalk--sorry, Hermann) to see what sticks. Hermann is the wall. He’s a pretty good wall. About as impassive as one.

Newton’s eyes drift over to the partial kaiju brain in its ammonia tank. Eureka. This’ll be a first-stick-throw day, Newton can feel it.

          “Hey Hermann, hear me out here: are kaiju in the ocean--full submersion, alright--wet? Now, I think I got your answer for ya. One word: hells-yeah.”

[scriose]

presses a kiss to his boy’s temple. you know who.

chris is more a man of action than speech, so in lieu of a ‘thank you,’ a ‘hello you,’ or a ‘christ, i like you,’ he leans into it. smiles with a closed mouth, finds hopper’s cheek with his palm, and lives in the warmth as long as it’ll last.

         ‘ miss me, eh? ’

[donnavetta]

“Every time people look at monkeys, they get excited because the monkeys look like people.” and Mantis!

‘PLEASE LIKE ME’ SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS.mantis and thor go to the zoo.@multiplist.

      the zoo was bustling with people. more of the zoo-goers were awestruck at the sight of these two aliens than the caged beings they paid to come see. a small crowd had formed to follow them around, but neither mantis nor thor were bothered by the attention, posing for a selfie or two, waving, and then moving on to pet the goats. (the goats were thor’s favorite part.) both the animals of the zoo and the humans who came to see them were interesting to the two aliens– people-watching had become a shared hobby of theirs. thor hums in agreement.

       mantis seems particularly hung up on the monkeys. she has a point; they look strikingly humanoid. the god wonders why they’ve a speaking raccoon among their friends, but no speaking ape. sad. the gorilla they’re currently looking upon has knelt in the corner of the enclosure to pick at the rim of the glass, pulling off and chewing the glue which holds the panes of glass in in as though it were gum. he’s seemingly devised a tool system of sticks and rocks in order to acquire said gum-glue. how clever! perhaps not wise! but clever! thor takes mantis’ hand to share in their combined curiosity and delight, relishing the experience of new discovery. lifeforms of all kinds fascinate them. they guide her hand to point at a little baby in the back, smile broad and radiant, sheer delight evident in every move.

         ‘look! a baby.’ they read from the sign outside the enclosure and smile, releasing her hand to lean gently against her shoulder instead. ‘her name is.... lulu. she does look quite like a person. see, you and i must be more human than others believe.’ 

[shatterdoom]

KAIJU IN WATER ARE NOT! WET!

NOTICE: H. GOTTLIEB ACCOUNT SUSPENDED. The server has automatically suspended you for saying a banned word. You said: “wet”.

[pivut]

consider, gilfoyle has found himself in another uncomfortably public setting. he's managed to insult li three different ways at once, and, oh, is she - ? she is. she's socked him in the fucking nose.

the last time gilfoyle can remember being decked precedes his college graduation, succeeds his having been booted from multiple hardcore toronto-based bands, and surely came with a warning. he stands in shock, but not on the defensive: his arms hang at his sides and his expression almost goes unchanged, as if he’s managed to rewire himself for unconditional non-reaction through years of practice.

blood wets his mustache, trails a line of red down over his lips.

seeing that they’re now askew, and that he can think of no rational next move, gilfoyle fixes his glasses with one steady hand  —  thumb and middle finger pressed to the hinges.

what, he thinks as he stares her down, fighting hard to stop a betrayed ( and betraying, because satan forbid he feel something ) pinch of his eyebrows. he says, nose clogged,  ‘ the fuck. ’

[pivut]

gilfoyle dislikes eating out alone for the same reason he dislikes getting his hair cut: there’s an unspoken obligation to make idle chat with the poor individual tasked with servicing him.

he gives the approaching waitress a preemptive sigh while she’s still out of earshot, thumbs his laptop shut, and pulls together a plan for his incoming unkind greeting.

         ‘ some coffee, ’ he begins, blunt and bored as ever. ‘ and privacy would be fucking great. ’

@multiplist,  sc.