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vice versa cookie, unbeta'd and unedited
so, way back when, almost two years ago, i started a blues fic. it took me awhile to get back into it, but lately as i've felt the need for sweet fluffy things, i think i've figured out exactly what i want to do with it. so here: have a cookie.
***
“Really, Bubbles, I can be real romantic when I want to be,” Butch goes on.
Boomer gives a derisive laugh and quips, “Trust me, bro, I don’t think you’re her type.”
“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Buttercup mumbles into her soda cup, giving Butch a sideways glare.
Ignoring them, Butch tilts his head toward her. “I mean it. Flowers, chocolates—”
Bubbles laughs politely and shakes her head. “No, it’s not—”
“You ain’t her type, man,” Boomer interjects again, grinning and shaking his head.
Boomer, shut up, she thinks bitterly.
Butch vocalizes her thoughts. Sort of. “Can it, would you? You’re cramping my style.”
“‘Style?’” Brick remarks, a hint of incredulousness entering his typically stoic expression.
Butch turns his attention back to Bubbles and says, “So what’ll it be? Fancy dinner? Expensive shopping trip? Should I pick you up in a horse-drawn carriage?”
“Not her type,” Boomer mutters out of the corner of his mouth, looking around innocently.
Butch drops his smile and turns, frustrated. “Oh, and what makes you the expert on ‘her type,’ huh?” he snaps. “Last I heard, you weren’t exactly it either.”
Buttercup immediately snorts into her drink, stifling a laugh, which in turn elicits a reproving glare from Blossom. Brick’s eyes widen, very slightly, and he aims his gaze first at one brother, then the other, then back and forth again. Bubbles just stands and stares at Boomer, a blush quickly rising to her face.
The look on Butch’s face is challenging and smug, while Boomer returns it with a simple blank stare, and parts his mouth slightly but doesn’t say a word.
You should say something, a little voice in Bubbles’ head whispers. Something like, It isn’t true, or Things are different now, or something.
Anything.
She swallows. Blossom has redirected her gaze to Bubbles now, concern edging her expression. This is a touchy subject, everyone knows it’s a touchy subject, and they never talk about it, and she hates Butch for bringing it up, even hates Boomer for egging him on and forcing him to, but more than anything she hates herself because all it would take is The Truth but she’s too scared to say it, say anything.
She continues to look at Boomer, watching for a change in expression that never comes, and as she’s working up the nerve to say anything, say it, a car horn honks and six heads turn to see the Professor waving at the girls as he drives up.
***
it should be noted that my writing style has shifted a few gears over the past few years, hopefully for the better (at least i think so). but i'm doing my best to keep with the fanon i set for myself with the first bit.
***
“Really, Bubbles, I can be real romantic when I want to be,” Butch goes on.
Boomer gives a derisive laugh and quips, “Trust me, bro, I don’t think you’re her type.”
“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Buttercup mumbles into her soda cup, giving Butch a sideways glare.
Ignoring them, Butch tilts his head toward her. “I mean it. Flowers, chocolates—”
Bubbles laughs politely and shakes her head. “No, it’s not—”
“You ain’t her type, man,” Boomer interjects again, grinning and shaking his head.
Boomer, shut up, she thinks bitterly.
Butch vocalizes her thoughts. Sort of. “Can it, would you? You’re cramping my style.”
“‘Style?’” Brick remarks, a hint of incredulousness entering his typically stoic expression.
Butch turns his attention back to Bubbles and says, “So what’ll it be? Fancy dinner? Expensive shopping trip? Should I pick you up in a horse-drawn carriage?”
“Not her type,” Boomer mutters out of the corner of his mouth, looking around innocently.
Butch drops his smile and turns, frustrated. “Oh, and what makes you the expert on ‘her type,’ huh?” he snaps. “Last I heard, you weren’t exactly it either.”
Buttercup immediately snorts into her drink, stifling a laugh, which in turn elicits a reproving glare from Blossom. Brick’s eyes widen, very slightly, and he aims his gaze first at one brother, then the other, then back and forth again. Bubbles just stands and stares at Boomer, a blush quickly rising to her face.
The look on Butch’s face is challenging and smug, while Boomer returns it with a simple blank stare, and parts his mouth slightly but doesn’t say a word.
You should say something, a little voice in Bubbles’ head whispers. Something like, It isn’t true, or Things are different now, or something.
Anything.
She swallows. Blossom has redirected her gaze to Bubbles now, concern edging her expression. This is a touchy subject, everyone knows it’s a touchy subject, and they never talk about it, and she hates Butch for bringing it up, even hates Boomer for egging him on and forcing him to, but more than anything she hates herself because all it would take is The Truth but she’s too scared to say it, say anything.
She continues to look at Boomer, watching for a change in expression that never comes, and as she’s working up the nerve to say anything, say it, a car horn honks and six heads turn to see the Professor waving at the girls as he drives up.
***
it should be noted that my writing style has shifted a few gears over the past few years, hopefully for the better (at least i think so). but i'm doing my best to keep with the fanon i set for myself with the first bit.
Good to see you back
It's good to see you back in this corner of the internet, it got less interesting while you were gone.
yay
(Anonymous) 2005-08-24 10:35 pm (UTC)(link)Hi hi
er...if you don't remember me- I'm the annoying girl that kept bugging you. Yeah. Sorry 'bout those times. -_- I'm trying to get better with the animation... I still haven't stop doing that one fighting scene between Buttercup/Butch you know- Sword play... yeah, it's not looking too well...well! Update soon! Yay!