ᴄᴀᴛʀᴀ ʀᴀɪɴʙᴏᴡꜰɪꜱᴛ-ᴍᴇᴏᴡᴍᴇᴏᴡ (hisses) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-01-23 12:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, she-ra: catra, ₴ inactive: richie tozier (2) |
WHO: Richie & Catra
WHAT: BONDING, and Richie introduces her to video games
WHERE: Richie & Enola's fancy penthouse
WHEN: Before Vallo Dark ate Richie up
WARNINGS: Potty mouths
STATUS: Complete
Catra wouldn’t say she was particularly stellar at cultivating friendships like, ever, honestly - but Richie was oddly easy to bullshit with and she supposed that’s what this was. A friendship, or something. He was willing to invite her over and introduce her to video games and she was open to that. It also allowed her to get some space from Adora which wasn’t the most terrible thing, either. Not that she was avoiding her or anything, but. Complicated, yeah. That’s what they were. Complicated. Indulging in old habits that comforted through the years when they were actually amicable, and that had escalated into - something. Neither of them talked about it, and Catra definitely wasn’t bringing it up and that was fine. This was fine. They could ride it out until one or both of them were returned to their respective timelines and take it from there. Whenever that would be. Acclimation was going okay, too. No way in hell she’d get completely used to civilian life after a few weeks of being here after an entire lifetime of training and soldier-rearing, but sleep hadn’t been too elusive and she hadn’t maimed anyone. Those were good signs. Catra was probably doomed to always carry the kind of exhaustion that radiated over your shit, having done and seen too much for someone also too young but this was the best she’s been in ages. It could be worse. She could be back on Prime’s ship getting brainwashed and chipped and killed (temporarily), according to Adora’s confession of events. The people could be awful, the food could taste like piss and there wouldn’t be any of these sugary-as-fuck frappuccinos from fucking Starbucks (thanks, Dan) she was becoming addicted to. That was what she was slurping on when she knocked on the shiny door of Richie’s new penthouse. Stupid goddamn Mocha Cookie Crumble Frap-Thing. Honestly, the penthouse was amazeballs. Like, probably even fancier than Richie’s condo back in LA, in all of its belonging-to-former-starlet glory. There were high ceilings in the living room, which meant the looooong windows provided an excellent view - the twinkling of city lights, major Vallo landmarks, every sunrise and sunset. That was all theirs, and so was the fireplace clad in black slate, nice brass accents, and plenty of spacious rooms and a custom kitchen. When they’d toured the place, the realtor referred to it as tranquility in the sky, so that was what sold Richie. He didn’t mind heights. There was even a private elevator, which he told Catra to take up - and when he heard the knock at the door, he went to go answer. “Heeeey, come on in,” he held the door open, beckoning her inside. He and Enola were pretty much all unpacked, so he’d been testing out that snazzy kitchen - it was a night of girl shit and he’d prepped some good snacks for it, pizza rolls and chocolate-covered popcorn with sea salt. And drunken gummy bears. It was a thing. If it proved successful, he’d probably make a batch for the housewarming party. “So, like, welcome - “ He motioned to the window-walls, like he was one of those Price is Right ladies. “Make yourself at home.” Yep, this place was ritzy. A lot fancier than Morningside - and yes, she had considered that apartment complex fancy, fuck off. Better than the digs she’d been used to, anway. “Look at this upgrade,” Catra whistled, long and low as she drank in the interior view. The outdoor view was nice, too. She liked heights and was officially kinda envious. “You really hit the jackpot playing guardian with a loaded teenager, didn’t you?” Her razor-sharp teeth were nibbling around that vibrantly green straw, her mouth managing to smirk around it. The tail was relaxed and somewhat curled at the end; ears were perked, but neutral. Catra had been growing comfortable in Vallo - it was translating into her body language, slowly. “Oh, and where’s the cat?” Her nose (a human one, she wasn’t all feline herself) twitched as she took a whiff of the air. “I smell it. Need to engage in an intense staring contest until one of us wins.” A battle of wills with the gray and white tabby - that amused the hell out of Richie, but he was all for it. “Do whatever you need to do,” he encouraged, with a wave of his hand. “Crumpet is - or actually, I know how to get her in here.” He went into the kitchen to open up a can of food - it was feeding time anyway - and as soon as Crumpet picked up on the sound of the tin lid being pulled back, zoom - there she was. Right here, in all of her fuzzball glory. Mew, mew, mew - she didn’t have much of a mighty roar, but she was certainly cute. Maybe she’d recognize Catra as the alpha feline (was that a thing?) or he’d catch his cat lady pal snuggling the kitten on her lap. “But yeah, Enola comes from a loaded family,” he added, grabbing a pot holder to remove the pizza rolls from the oven. In two bowls on the counter he had the popcorn and the gummy bears, deceptively alcoholic. “I was all set to work three jobs to put her through college though. She’s worth it. What do you want to drink, by the way? Those gummy bears have been soaked in vodka but if you want something to sip on I got plenty of other shit.” Alpha feline was definitely not a thing, no worries about that - it was all fun bullshit. Catra really hadn’t been around domesticated often (maybe once, if she recalled correctly) so seeing what could be considered as some distant cousin was a little amusing. Her ears may have also twitched at the sound of the tint lid but god, no, she wasn’t into whatever Fancy Feast was. The vodka-soaked gummies, though. Hmm. And whatever shit he took out of the oven, what the hell were those? So many questions. Might as well buckle down and prepare for her taste buds to be blown away. “If only all parental-figures were like you, Richie. Got anything that pairs well with this impressive spread?” she inquired, passing by Crumpet without offering any attention yet - she’d let her enjoy that wet food and allow investigative sniffing later. Catra trashed the plastic cup she arrived with and plucked a gummy with her claws to pop into her mouth. Yeah, that had a bite but it was countered by the candy sweetness and she was tempted to shovel a handful of them into her mouth. “And is this all because we’re hanging out? I almost feel special.” “I treat my pals right,” Richie grinned, crooked and endearing and genuine, not to mention a smile that crinkled at the corner of those blue eyes. He did like to be good to his friends though, despite being a Trashmouth in other ways - he was always generous with those he was close to, not wanting his friends to go without double features or junk food while growing up. Him as an adult happened to be no different. “Plus, like - snacks are always nice when you’re gossiping or watching movies or need the sustenance while playing video games or whatever.” They’d probably do all of the above during this girl’s night but the first priority was to get Catra acquainted with the wonder known as Street Fighter. That arcade game was his pride and joy, damnit. What paired well with this spread (especially the greasy goodness of the pizza rolls) was a nice rum and coke, so he mixed up a couple of those - his job as a bartender was really shining through - and handed one over. The pizza rolls went into a bowl too. “I assume you’re ready to do some virtual punching and be introduced to video games?” he asked hopefully. Catra welcomed the distraction. She was literally up for anything as she continued learning the ropes of doing normal, civilian things. Like video games and pigging out on food that was likely to give her indigestion or heartburn or both. “Duh,” she answered, then took a sip of rum and coke and oh. It was fizzy. Fizzy in a good way. She just didn’t expect to feel these little pops on her tongue, is all. “Literally why I’m here - I’m ready to be cultured. And to discover different ways of punching that doesn’t lead the actual, physical bodily harm.” What a weird fucking concept. She stripped off her leather jacket (because, yes, she finally got something more durable than a damn hoodie) and set it aside. She’d gotten herself new clothes, casual ones because why would she need anything fancy. Catra was definitely a forever-leggings sort of girl. Stretchy fabric to allow her for crazy flips n’ shit during combat. And luckily this place was overrun by a bunch of different species, so finding ones with the little holes for her tail was easy. Speaking of - that quirky appendage went around her waist. “Lead the way - I can carry stuff too. What the hell’s even in the bowl?” The tail was pretty amazing, Richie was kind of in awe (of that and the hole in the butt of leggings to make space for the appendage) and also a little bit jelly that he didn’t have a tail. Alas, he was just your standard run-of-the-mill human (with some seer shit, going on - no big deal). “The stuff I just took from the oven, that’s pizza rolls,” he shared, carrying those with steam still wafting - they’d be hot to bite into, so best to let them cool a little. “Basically pizza in a convenient bite-size form. I also made chocolate covered popcorn, sweet and salty goodness, and of course the gummy bears.” In the game room, he was still in the process of personalizing it but was mostly set up - a table and lots of cushy, comfy seating because playing games meant you’d be sitting for hours sometimes, and poor posture sucked. He also had his various consoles set up and the crowning glory, the Street Fighter arcade game, plus some cool lighting - LED strips, to light up the room without dimming screens. Their snacks went onto the table and he took a sip of rum and coke, mentally transporting himself to a beach someplace. Ahhhh. “I think you’ll like Street Fighter though, it’s really therapeutic to hit people without actually hitting them.” It was pretty neat in this game room, Catra would give him that. For a fleeting moment she thought about Entrapta, and how she’d love the space but it was kinda shitty to think so fondly about someone she sent to die, so - scrap that. Moving on. “Have you ever actually hit anyone in your life?” she chuckled, the sound naturally scratchy against her throat. “The adrenaline rush of when you’re beating the shit out of someone is like no other. Almost makes me miss actual fighting.” She’d settle for the virtual stuff, though! Catra set her drink on this thing she recently learned was a coaster (apparently ruining a host’s furniture with condensation is a sin, what a concept) and took a handful of gummies. The popcorn looked good to but this was boozy and she wanted to get a little bit shitty. “Okay! So - teach me. I did read up on this a little on my way in and I know you can pick characters, or something? I want the one with the thunder thighs.” What? Chun-Li was hot. “I mean - I ax murdered a dude once?” Richie replied, casually, sipping from his drink. Sure, he’d just nonchalantly drop that into the conversation. No big deal. “Been in plenty of bar fights too, but you know. I’m more of a lover and not a fighter.” There were definitely scuffles he’d gotten into that he’d had no business being in - sometimes shit just happened so you had to roll with it. Anyway, yes, the amazingness that was Street Fighter. He chuckled, also popping a couple of those gummy bears into his mouth - may they rest in peace, they were sacrificed for a noble cause. “Thunder Thighs is my favorite too but in this Street Fighter game, you gotta play as Ryu,” he explained. “The second player is Ken, who is Ryu’s best frenemy. Street Fighter II is when you can pick from the whole roster, so you can fight with your girl then. I have that one on the Super NES though. We can play it after this.” He’d love to get all the games from his youth as nostalgic arcade games though, to be put into this room, for the aesthetic appeal - he’d see what happened. This one sort of just appeared, maybe others would too. Or he’d have to make like an actual collector and buy them, booo. “Here, I’ll show you - “ Richie selected two-player for the game - so he was Ken, and Catra could be Ryu. It was basically just him going through the correct way to smash the buttons, in order to optimize the punching and kicking output. “You can take on Blanka, he’s not too hard - just watch out for his electric skin,” he advised. “You axe murdered a -” Catra stopped, taking that in and processing because what? She had so, so many questions but she bit her tongue and opted for amusement. A brow lifting, wry grin curling her lips. Good for him. Richie looked like the kind of dude whose organs were made of squishy mashed potatoes so she assumed whoever the poor fool was they probably deserved it. Niiiiiiiiice. The afterthought of it had her giggling, and she even wasn’t that upset she couldn’t use Thunder Thighs to inflict fake harm with. She experimented with the joystick (as if that didn’t sound euphemistic at all) and pushed at the buttons - combo moves and all that, she was finding out. “I’m going to make Blanka my bitch,” Catra announced with resolve. “Is this gonna be available during the housewarming party?? I call dibs on the first round. I’ll even punch someone for it.” Blanka’s dumb green ass met his demise with a K.O!, what the fuck did that even mean? Whatever. Time to fist her mouth with another handful of alcoholic gummies. Daaaamn, Richie was hella impressed. “You’re a natural,” he complimented - while Catra kicked Blanka’s ass, he’d switched to popcorn and had been stuffing it into his face and observed her fighting technique. But she picked up on it quickly - you’d be surprised how badly people could suck at this. He wasn’t gonna say anything if she had been terrible, but he was glad that she seemed to have a knack for it. And seemed to be enjoying herself. “Oh, hell yeah, this will be available during the housewarming party,” he promised. “I’ll have all the consoles set up for people to play in here.” Out in the living room he’d probably have some movies going, or music, stuff to help people relax and mingle and give them something to talk about. Not like he and Enola were expecting a huge turnout, but still. Just in case. To celebrate Catra’s win, he offered the bowl of pizza rolls. “In recognition of your victory,” he said. “Enjoy the hot cheese and sauce.” Now he’d just be over here kicking Joe’s ass - yeah, the character’s name was Joe, a boring American kickboxer. Catra’s fighting technique was simple - smash a lot of buttons while pointing the joystick in random directions. Totally unsophisticated and complete bullshit. “For now,” she scoffed. “Aren’t she levels like, supposed to get harder as you go on?” Her prize in the form of pizza rolls was gleefully claimed, too. Only one was selected at first for taste testing purposes. Richie hadn’t done her wrong yet when it came to introducing her to food, and this was no exception - the fucking sorcery behind these tiny pockets. Incredible. ‘How’s it hanging since your best bud disappeared, by the way? I saw your - you know.” The post. She just didn’t know how to really broach the topic until now. He seemed preeeetty upset though - not that she could blame him. In his shoes, she’d be fucking devasted. Richie could talk and game at the same time, so he focused on what was going on during the Wreckoning, for poor Joe, while still answering the questions. “The levels do get harder,” he confirmed. “The Big Boss comes at the end. We’ve got this though.” With him as Ken, he’d Shoryuken his way to victory. And Catra would accidentally do herself a Hadouken or two, by smashing the buttons. “But, uh - “ As for Eddie, that was a whole other situation. The disappearance was fresh too, it had literally just happened, and Richie wasn’t sure how to deal with it besides cry in the bathtub while his boyfriend went and picked up taco shells for the party and consoling Pocky sticks. The fact that the guilt weighed on Richie like anvils, both for Eddie’s death and for just letting him move someplace else because of his jealousy (that situation not being resolved), also didn’t really help matters. “I mean, I’ll be alright. I’ll miss him always but I still got the rest of you fuckers - “ Like his newly adopted family, and his friends, and Max. “I wish things could have been different but wishing doesn’t do me any good. Maybe he’ll come back. Maybe he won’t. I can’t keep being hung up on that, I just gotta do me. Get my head right and all that.” Boom, and just like that, Joe was gone. Bye Joe. Accidental button blasts! Kicking while jumping and hoping she would land a hit! Well - not at as much hoping as trying. The controls weren’t anything crazy sophisticated. If she could fucking teleport someone from a space ship to random space coordinates then getting a better gist of what combo of buttons and joystick moves did what wasn’t totally intimidating. “I’m included in the ‘fuckers’ part?” Catra squinted at him instead of the screen with skepticism. “I guess that’s, uh - touching or something. And a non-shitty way of looking at things.” Her tail may have done this thing where it brushed his arm - totally a reflexive gesture. Not because of fucking friendship (it was). “I’m trying to work on the making friends part. I was terrible at it before and I just ended up alone in the end.” Catra shrugged, taking a pause from the game to hydrate with some of that rum and coke. She had been so wrapped up in Adora before that she couldn’t fathom making friends with others - none could compare. Now she knew they didn’t need to. She could work on her shit with Adora and having her own friends, for once in her life. It was a process when you were trying to stop being an ass. Aw, the tail thing was so sweet - not the first time he’d gotten a comforting tail pat either, and Richie felt a case of the warm and fuzzies going on. “You’re definitely included in the fuckers part,” he grinned, going for some more boozy gummy bears. Between those and the rum and coke he was feeling downright giddy - sure, Eddie’s disappearance still smarted (a thorn in his squishy heart) but he would get through it. Somehow. At least Eddie hadn’t been here that long - barely a few weeks. Would have been worse if he’d carved out a life here for years and years, and then suddenly got yeeted out of Vallo. “You’re doing okay at the friends part too,” he assured. Catra had been prickly as a cactus at first but who could blame her? Now that things had settled a little, it was time to work that charm and find people she could rely on when times got tough. Because they would, around here - they sometimes seemed to do that. “And you’re learning new things, trying new delectable cuisines - it’s all good.” Blue eyes cut toward where he had the SNES set up, among the other consoles - Catra had done well, it was time to give her a taste of Chun-Li’s signature move (it was the Hyakuretsukyaku, try saying that three times fast). “Alright, I think it’s time for some Thunder Thighs now. Let’s do this thing.” Bonus? The Spinning Bird Kick only required hitting one button very fast. She would get that easily. Yeah, at the very least - good food. Like those pizza pockets. Pizza rolls? Whatever, that was some top-notch gourmet shit if she knew gourmet (she didn’t). “Don’t get sappy with me,” Catra scoffed and gave his shoulder a playful shove, snatching up her drink to take a plentiful sip of. The booze was doing well in keeping her in good, lazy spirits. “I’ll throw up on your cat and on your video game tech and then you won’t like me so much anymore.” But she was so ready for Thunder Thighs. Like, maybe even rocking back and forth on her feet and such. And in the spirit of working on her weight gain, she went to hog the bowl of pizza rolls as she settled around the SNES. “And please - introduce me to my video game wife. I’m into women with muscles.” Catra didn’t know how well she was going to play the more she imbibed and got herself into a fucking food coma but hey, that was acceptable here. Hopefully Richie wouldn’t mind the future and inevitable catnap she was going to take on his couch in like, an hour or two. |