ArchivedLogs:Ninja Breakfast

Ninja Breakfast
And all the hugs!
Dramatis Personae Shane, Sebastian, Jackson, Micah, Tag, Spencer	4 September 2013 Jax and Micah receive a very warm welcome home.
Location <NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. Early morning is quiet, in Lighthaus. Quiet, even when the door opens to admit a pair of teenagers (still dressed for bed in matching black pajama pants and no shirts, though Shane is readily identifiable by the red collar buckled around his throat) who slip into the kitchen. Stealthily. Like /ninjas/. But there are sounds soon enough afterwards. /Quiet/ sounds. The coffeemaker starting to percolate. The gas hissing on on the stove. The quiet beeping of the waffle iron being turned on. The spray of canola oil onto the iron. /Breakfast/ ninjas, then. They've even come bearing their own large bowl of waffle batter, and a smaller container with marinating tempeh. It is not the stealthy /ninja/ noises that rouse Jax from his room, but the eventual distinctive scent of coffee permeating the apartment. He’s been half-awake already, lapsing back into a very /interrupted/-sleep kind of habit characterized by frequent waking-up and a room full of hazy dream-silhouettes. The nightmare-ghosts, at least, vanish as the coffee-smell pulls him more awake; even then though it takes a bit before he gets /up/, clinging perhaps to some last vestiges of vacation-laziness. Warm bed. Warm Micah. Lack of moving. But eventually the promise of caffeine wins out. He has largely not bothered with clothing when he slips out of his room, boxers but nothing else save the collar and cuffs he has, of late, been wearing Pretty Much Everywhere. He slips down the hall to the kitchen, stopping in its doorway to just lean against the frame and watch the teenagers inside, a sleepy half-smile on his face. “You’re -- up early.” Micah is also not wakened by the ninja breakfast-makers, but rather by a distinct lack of Jax when he moves to snuggle against what was expected to be a warm body. He paws at the empty spot on the bed for a moment before registering that the room is, in fact, deserted save for him. He untangles himself from the sheets he has somehow managed to wrap around him and pulls himself together before heading out to investigate the sounds and smells from the kitchen. By the time he emerges, he is +1 prosthetic leg and has added a plain blue T-shirt over the tiny TARDIS-decorated sleep pants he had been wearing. No effort appears to have been made to rein in the tousled mop of auburn that is his hair. Micah takes up a standing place behind Jax, looking over his shoulder. “Oh, look at all the peoples. And the cookings. Good morning.” He rests his chin sleepily on Jax's shoulder, since it /is/ right there and all. The door to the twins' room opens and a bleary-eyed Tag stumbles out. He wears a cornflower tunic that reaches his knees, its Mandarin collar, sleeves, and hem all edged in complex geometric trim of black and gold to match the sloppily-tied fabric belt. His hair is an incongruous shade of lilac with random splotches of electric blue that may have once been circular patches, and covers most of his face. Some combination of drowsiness and hair-induced vision impairment causes him clip the edge of the hallway and spin a couple of times before continuing his journey into the living room as unsteadily as before. "G'morning!" For some reason he is /stage whispering/ as he comes to rest against the unoccupied side of the door frame. The entry to the kitchen is now entirely taken up by scruffy, sleepy men. "Sorry, guys, I was s'posed to get up n' help you with that." Then, to Jax and Micah. "Welcome back! How was the con?" There is a pause in the breakfast preparations -- Sebastian’s hand freezes on the handle of the spatula he is using to turn over his tempeh strips, Shane glances up from his vigilant staring down the waffle iron (it makes it go faster!) Two sets of huge black eyes fix on Jax and Micah for a long beat of silence before the twins scurry across the small kitchen to fling their arms around /both/ the older men together. Shane’s cheek mooshes against Micah’s side, Sebastian spikily /headbutts/ Jackson in the stomach and together they manage a whole lot of tight squeezing. “Oh man you’re /back/ how was --” “-- Atlanta? How was the /con/?” “How’re Ba and Ong doing? Did you sell lots of arts?” “Did you meet lots of hot geeks?” “Did you have /fun/?” The twins’ questions largely overlap each other, at least until Shane pauses to wince at Tag’s ungainly entrance. “-- Are you drunk. I swear when we left you you weren’t drunk.” “Well he’s also slept like. Two hours,” Sebastian points out, “that’s as good /as/ drunk.” Jax leans back slightly into Micah when Micah comes up behind him; his head tips to the side to rest his cheek against the other man’s hair. His sleepy smile only grows when there is sudden shark-attack; he leans down to press kisses to both the twins’ foreheads in turn. “Ohwow, questions, um -- Ma an’ Pa are doin’ good, they -- send their love. I sold -- almost all the arts I /brought/ an’ a whole lot I didn’t -- I think the con was --” His cheeks flush. “There were definitely some -- pretty. Micah can probably tell you better’n me though what it was /actually/ like -- hi, Tag!” He brightens still further at Tag’s appearance, though his nose crinkles up slightly. “Ohgosh, honey-honey, careful, I think you’re still sleepwalkin’ here. The con was -- I think you’d kinda love it. Crazy hectic, though.” Hug attacks are definitely the best of shark attacks! Micah throws his arms into the group hug, mostly winding up with one around Jax and the other around Shane given his standing position. “It was pretty awesome. Super-crowded, so about all the hot geeks you could cram into a several-block radius were...crammed into a several-block radius. Lots of celebrities an' science an' music an' dancin'. S'a good time. Also, good mornin', Tag!” Micah frees up an arm to wind around Tag's shoulder and pull him into the hugpile, provided he seems amenable to it. “How was everythin' up here? Hopefully pretty uneventful for once?” "Oh no, I'm /way/ clumsier than this when actually drunk." Tag nods sagely, hair flopping across his eyes again. "I've heard sooooo many awesome things about DragonCon, glad they got good taste. In art. And hot geeks! I gotta go there. /Someday--/" This last as he gets drawn into the event horizon of hug-singularity. "It's been great! Spence and I had a blast." He conspicuously fails to confirm or deny eventfulness. "A lot less music and dancing, but there /was/ science! Also, we built the Death Star." A fey grin spreads wide behind the messy curtain of purple-and-blue hair. "Then unbuilt it. With proton torpedoes." Then he adds, hastily, "And by 'torpedoes' I mean /marbles/. Glad you guys are back, though." “How many hot geeks /can/ you cram into a several-block radius? I hope you counted.” Shane still squeezes the others tight, tipping his head to bonk it against Tag’s arm when Tag is pulled in. “Can we go next year?” Sebastian sounds extremely hopeful. “-- Science happens a /lot/ when Spence is around.” “But none of the house-burning-down kind of science. This time.” Shane doesn’t seem particularly interested in moving any time soon, nestling closer to the others, but then the beeping of the waffle iron calls his attention away. “-- no respect for hug-time,” he grumbles at the iron as he extricates himself. “It was a /pretty/ epic battle. We only saw the aftermath but it was -- devastating.” Sebastian, at least, stays right where he /is/. “The living room has witnessed some terrible calamities in its time.” “I do -- still seem t’have a house so I wasn’t all /that/ worried.” Only a /little/ fret. “Um -- if we can -- afford it then I think bringing you all down next year would be -- awesome.” Jax’s brow creases slightly, though, at this stated caveat. “We’ll see what things are /like/ next summer.” For a moment as Tag joins the hug collective a faint cheerful glow shimmers to life around him, and then fades. “-- Thanks. Um, I mean, for looking after Spence, it -- was kinda great of you, I’m glad things went alright. -- Did you guys really -- how early did you wake /up/ to cook breakfast ohmygosh.” “It's kind of hard /not/ t'have science and/or epic battles when you're spendin' one-on-one time with Spence,” Micah admits with just a hint of a laugh. “I think it was somethin' close to 60,000 people there? So. A lot.” He frees up a hand to rake through his hair-mess, clearly a gesture of habit and not hoping to actually straighten it out. “You guys would prob'ly get stopped every couple of feet for pictures of your amazin' 'costumes', come t'think of it.” His smile widens at this (or maybe Jax's glowing...or both) and he gives Shane a pat on the shoulder as he moves away to tend the waffles. “There can be more hug time /after/ waffles. Upside to bein' awake ridiculously early. More time for /things/. Seriously, though, did y'all ever go t'sleep? Or did you just wait for us t'go t'bed an' then sneak in?” "Well, you know, burning down the house just wasn't in the Manual." Tag seems utterly sincere and considerably more awake now. "Though at some point the Manual got swapped with a copy of /Cryptonomicon/ by someone who thought they were being /really/ clever." He gives the hug pile one last squeeze before pulling away, brushing enough hair back to expose half of his face as he readies plates for the receiving of imminent waffle. "It wasn't any trouble at all! I used to watch my sibs all the time, and they were not /nearly/ as cool as Spence. Maybe I soaked up all the weird in the family gene pool, who knows." Tag leaves one plate on the counter beside the waffle iron and emerges from the kitchen to set places at the table. "Got any pictures of crazy costumes? Oh man, now I wanna cosplay...something, I don't even know what. Not sure I can pull off blue shark person. Maybe Rainbow Dash, though. She’s blue. /And/ rainbow." "Look," Sebastian tips his head up to give the others a quick grin, "Cryptonomicon is a way better guide to Spence than --" "Seriously, Pa, he's almost eight I think if he needed something he'd be perfectly capable of /asking/, you didn't need to --" "write Tag a childcare novel. Besides, you were in Atlanta, not a Battlestar, if there was a problem we could have just --" "-- called." Shane pries the waffle out of the iron with a spatula, flipping the iron over afterwards to take a second waffle out of its other half. "I mean, if there were /really/ a problem Spence would --" "Probably just have showed up." Sebastian gets one last long squeeze in, but then retreats, too, to flip his tempeh strips over. "You're small," he adds brightly to Tag, "you could totally join the ranks of blue shark-person." "/I/ slept," Shane adds, "I think B stayed up and made tempeh, there was definitely not tempeh when I fell asleep." "It only took a minute," Bastian protests. "... and Daiki did most of it." "We didn't want your vacation ending /just/ quite yet." Shane sprays the iron down, filling both halves with batter again. "Some pictures, oh my /gosh/ the work some people put into their costumes is like -- mind-blowing, they're so incredible. Makes me feel guilty I just cheat every Halloween." Jax /has/ been straightening when people start to disperse, presumably to join the kitchen for /helping/, but Shane's final statement pauses him. His smile skews a little crooked, and he settles back into his lean against the doorframe, snaking an arm around Micah's waist. "... you guys are --" There is a suspicious brightness in his eye that he blinks back, his cheerful glow returning. His attention turns to Tag next, lips quirking upwards as a deep blue hue spreads through Tag's skin. Sharp slitted gills ripple down the sides of his neck, and his facial features shift, nose flattening, ears losing definition to become just ridged outlines beneath his curtain of hair, the whites of his eyes filling with pure black, teeth sharpening into razor points. Hands growing webbing and small dark claws. "I think blue shark person looks good on you," he decides afterwards. "Just don't try breathing water." Micah watches the others dart around the kitchen in their tasks, just grinning. “Tag, you're pretty much /already/ Dashie most of the time. Toss some cutie marks on you and you're about done.” He giggles at the childcare manual descriptions, shaking his head. “It /is/ difficult t'get into contact with people at the con. It's not /space/, but it is tens of thousands of geeks overloading all the satellites. There's mad lag just on sending a /text/.” When Jax catches him by the waist, Micah lets his muscles go a little limp to ragdoll-flop against him. Apparently there's no going back on the decision to remain standing here, at the risk of letting Micah fall on the floor. “The costumes are /insane/. Most of 'em look uncomfortable as all get-out, though, so /I'd/ cheat if I could, too. All of the make-up an' layers of clothin' an' props an' stick-outty bits... An' you get out of havin' to /transport/ all of the stuff an' havin' to /wake up/ to put it on in the mornin'.” He gestures at the now blue and somewhat sharky Tag. “Instant gratification that way. I wouldn't enter a /competition/ usin' illusions 'stead of craftin', but Jax-way is pretty much preferable for anythin' else.” "Wow!" Tag looks down at himself, toothy jaw slack and black eyes wide. "Man, I cheat /all the time/, but I'm just not this badass. Need to work on that. Skin is hard to color right, sometimes I do it and it just looks /Photoshopped./" He continues setting out silverware. "If I did a Rainbow Dash costume I'd wanna go with a group. Or, a /herd/ I guess. Buncha ponies." He gasps, Pinkie Pie fashion. "Oh, you gotta do like a DragonCon slideshow at game night next week, that's be the /best!/" “S’fucking awesome,” Shane offers his approval at the end of Tag’s transformation. “But c’mon, what /wouldn’t/ look good on him? I mean, if you haven’t noticed, he’s really freaking hot.” Sebastian stifles a small laugh, getting another plate to scrape the tempeh off onto. “He makes a prettier blue sharkperson than /you/ do,” he tells his brother. “-- I’d totally cheat the /hell/ out of those contests, though, if I could,” Shane adds, “I mean come on nobody’s going to have as kickass a costume as Pa. -- Would Eli count as cheating, too?” Sebastian fidgets uncomfortably at this question, frowning down at the food. “-- Maybe? Probably. He -- does make good costumes.” Shane sets the first two waffles out on the kitchen table. “Kind of /are/ photoshopped,” he points out to Tag, “isn’t photoshopping real life basically what you guys /do/?” Jax’s fingers curl against Micah’s hip, and he stays where he is being TOTALLY UNHELPFUL. At least unhelpful with breakfast prep; /very/ helpful with being a leaning-post for Micah. His cheeks flush, first at the comment about Tag and then darker at the question about Eli. “I mean -- he /does/ make real costumes, he just -- has an easier time of it than most people?” He shrugs, a little stiffly, but then laughs. “We do kinda photoshop life, don’t we? -- An’ I think you’re /all/ gorgeous -- blue -- sharkpeople.” “Group costumes are pretty common, actually,” Micah replies to Tag's desire for /herd/ costuming. “An' it does make them easier to identify than the solo ones a lot of the time.” He eyes transformed-Tag. “You do rather fit in well with the blue shark crew. This would prob'ly give people fits tryin' t'figure out what show y'all are from.” His head falls to the side to rest on Jax's shoulder. “Everybody's kind of gorgeous around here. S'like an epidemic of pretty people,” he murmurs half into the illusionist's neck. Tag whips around so he can see his own reflection in the window, still pre-dawn dark. "Well, I wouldn't look at me right now and think 'that looks 'shopped'. Not that there's anything /wrong/ with Photoshop, but I mean usually when people say that it's cuz the work looks shoddy or unrealistic or something. Which is a problem I have with skin sometimes." He slips back into the kitchen and starts gathering toppings for the waffles. Syrups, jams, spreads, and butters-that-aren't-butters migrate to the counter. "Y'know, people'd probably think we were some kind of Blue Man Group mashup. Or an epidemic. Prettiness /vectors./ Ooh, maple butter!" “I can think of so many worse epidemics to have than being surrounded by people who are freaking gorgeous. I mean, I would basically sleep with anyone in this --” Shane glances around the room for a moment, eyes skipping contemplatively to each of the others in turn before he decides instead, “-- /building/.” “... haven’t you gotten most of the way there already?” Sebastian has an outright smirk, now. Shane looks kind of /pointedly/ towards Jax and Micah. “Not /yet/.” It is a /tragic/ lament. He even sighs. Deeply. So longsuffering. “If we were doing a group costume Hive would totally be Nightmare Moon,” Sebastian decides with a laugh. He sets the tempeh down on the stove, getting out mugs for coffee, too. “You guys sort of /are/ prettiness vectors, anyway. Just. Spreading gorgeous wherever you go. Micah, would you make all the pegasi prosthetic wings?” Shane sounds hopeful, at this. Jax’s head tilts to the side, nuzzling lightly against Micah’s hair. The look from Shane flushes his cheeks deep crimson, eye scrunching shut for a moment. “I would /so/ be in line for prosthetic wings if they got functional.” His shoulders flex, slightly, rippling the red-and-black wings tattooed onto his back. “In the meanwhile I’ll just stick to admiring Dusk’s. -- Oh wow I forgot we still had maple butter. I eat that with a /spoon/.” “Pretty much...better than Photoshop in every way.” Micah tilts his head a touch to peck Jax on the...chin, more than cheek, really. “We still have maple butter? Jax must have forgotten it was there or it wouldn't be there anymore.” 'Bastian's counter to Shane catches him off guard, as betrayed by a sudden snort of laughter, which continues in a spill of chuckles at Shane's adopted tragedy. He might have also turned a /little bit/ red somewhere in there. “Ohgosh, d'you think we could convince Hive into that? He was /so confused/ when I started callin' him Luna. Because he totally has Royal Canterlot brainvoice.” Micah's eyes track to the ceiling for a moment in thought. “I could totally make wings. Even wings that /move/. But they wouldn't exactly be /functional/. Functional wings for person-bodies are /ridiculous/. We're pretty big and dense. Not great for flappy-flyin'. Could get somethin' in the way of /gliders/ goin' at best, but they wouldn't look like pegasus wings at all.” He waves at Jax's surprise at the discovery of maple butter with one eyebrow quirked as if to say, “See?” Tag bites his lip, which looks a lot more perilous with a mouthful of sharky teeth, and bounces up and down a few times. "Hive would make a great Luna. I bet we can get him to do it, too." Without making much of it, he grabs a spoon for the maple butter jar. "It was hiding behind an apricot preserve, I think." He grabs almond milk from the refrigerator and sets it beside the mugs. "Wings /would/ be awesome..." This last bit he adds a bit abstractly, as though his mind had gone elsewhere and left 'awesome' as a vacation reply. “I think if we ask Flicker to ask Hive, we can get Hive to do it,” Sebastian decides. “Yeah, Flicker pretty much has him --” Shane wiggles his first two fingers in the air. “Wrapped around his -- they might as well be married. /I’d/ take a glider for sure.” “Could you really make wings that move? Because that’d be awesome even if they /don’t/ fly. Though the um -- the robot I’ve been working on, his propulsion system would probably work just as well for people --” Bastian looks thoughtful, now, drifting back to the fridge after Tag to add juice to the table. “-- though I wouldn’t do them in wing-form. Maybe some kind of backpack-mounted -- with handheld stabilizers --” His teeth scrape against his lip, too, though his are /genuinely/ sharky. But his skin is thick enough to be well used to this treatment, at least. Shane is preparing coffees -- black and liberally dosed with enough sugar to render it coffee /syrup/ for Jax, slightly milky and heavily sweetened as well for Micah. Black for Sebastian. His eyebrows raise in questioning to Tag. “Do you coffee?” “I should get Spence up. You might want to prepare yourselves for more tackling.” Sebastian lifts up onto his toes to give Jax and Micah both pecks on the cheek in passing as he heads out of the kitchen. “Could make pretty-wings for decoration, and glider -- /rockets/ for -- function,” Jax decides, with a smile. He straightens, slightly, though his arm stays curled around Micah’s waist. “I am /so/ ready for flying tacklehugs.” Although his free hand is just reaching out to make /grabbyhand/ motions towards the maple butter. “I missed you guys. Even our hotel didn’t spoil us like this.” “Mmhmm. Totally could make moving wings. Wouldn't need t'buy /much/ t'add t'things I've got in the van an' the storage unit, really. Mostly just the decorative parts.” Micah grins at 'Bastian's robot plans. “I'm /pretty/ sure that any kind of actual accelerators for Pony-wings would be overkill. All kindsa overkill.” His eyes widen as he accepts the coffee from Shane, matched by a broadening grin at the tinykisses from 'Bastian. “Y'all are the best teenagers to ever happen. I'm pretty sure. An' I've met /lots/ of teenagers. The hotel didn't make a coffee or a waffle, this is very true. /Or/ give tacklehugs.” "I coffee with /all the things!/" comes out of Tags' mouth without a second's hesitation. "Er, it doesn't have to have /all/ the things, just...maybe one third milk-stuff and just a bit of sweetener?" Sliding back over to the table, he snags the maple butter and delivers it to Jax. "Wings /and/ jetpacks...these are gonna be some cyberpunk ponies." “Overkill, pff what are you talking about, what’s the point of being a pegasus if you can’t fly? I think it’d be /exactly/ the right amount of -- kill.” Sebastian’s nose crinkles; he finishes the sentence a little uncertainly before quietly knocking on Spencer’s bedroom door and then opening it to slip inside. Shane makes Tag a coffee, too -- almond milk, a dash of sugar -- and delivers it to the table. “/Micah/ why don’t you make yourself a really -- kickass -- cyberpunk leg, you could --” “-- What are you /talking/ about,” comes called back from the bedroom, “have you /seen/ his legs they are basically /already/ pretty much awesome cyborg-legs, can /your/ knee talk to your phone?” Shane frowns down at his own knees. Perhaps suddenly ACUTELY AWARE of their inadequacy. He pokes a claw at one of them sadly. “... mine don’t really do /anything/ much.” He is wearing a rather /disappointed/ face as he goes to retrieve the second pair of waffles from the iron and put in another round of batter. “-- the /best/ teenagers, seriously? That’s -- not something /I/ get accused of much.” “Kinda have the best /parents/ to help us along with that,” comes out of the bedroom, just a scant moment before there is a louder, “--/ohmygosh/ --” A moment later, there /is/ a Spencer, appearing in Ninja Turtle pajamas right beside Jax and Micah; teleporting takes a lot of the /momentum/ out of his tackle, at least, but his hug is squeezy enough to make up for it. “I’m pretty sure I /did/ see some steampunk ponies there,” Jackson admits, amused. “And one wheelchair turned into a really awesome -- chariot. Complete with a pegasus guard to drive it. -- aaaaah /hi/!” He lifts his coffee out of hugging range, wincing slightly as some of it spills down his fingers -- he was clearly /not/ braced enough for hug-interruption. He unwinds his other arm from Micah’s waist so that he can hug Spencer back, tight. The comment about best parents just makes him blush again, eye shifting to Micah with a small smile playing on his lips. “-- Hi, honey-honey. I heard there was epic battles while we was gone.” “I have nothin' against the idea of whatever-punk Ponies. Just means more different metal parts t'make for things. I'm not /entirely/ sure I'd make a jetpack that I thought was safe enough for a person without pre-existin’ functional wings t'use, though. Last thing I wanna do is start /crashin'/ friends.” Micah snickers at the running leg commentary between the twins. “It /is/ a pretty cyberpunk leg. If I took the casing off and left all the wires an' chips exposed, it'd look it a lot more, too. An' your legs do /plenty/, Shane. You got walkin', runnin', gallopin', jumpin', hoppin', skippin', kickin', kneelin', crawlin', climbin', swimmin', pedallin', ridin'... S'pretty good set of legs. An' people just don't accuse you of bein' as awesome as you are 'cause they don't know you as well as I do.” Micah is about a breath away from going to give Shane /more/ hugs when he is interrupted by Spence-hugs. “Gah! Ninja-hugs!” He looks down at Spencer's pajamas and corrects himself to, “Ninja /Turtle/ hugs.” He rescues Jax's coffee, twisting to place both of their mugs on the counter, turning back with a towel in hand for Jax to de-coffee himself. Then he stoops to give Spence a little squeeze, as well. “Epic battles. And epic /science/. And now time for epic /breakfast/ with the awesomest people ever. C'mon. Let's eat before things get cold.”