Phone Call - Tumblr Posts
Chillin'n callin
The shading and light blue around the telephone wire is a little hard to see, but it's there!
Who Has Something To Say To You?
How to Pick a Pile? Some of us focus on the image that seems to call to us most, some intuitively choose regardless of picture. Don't overthink it. Choose whichever pile you feel called to. It may even be more than one!
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Pile 1: This person may have broken your heart. There is a heaviness that they have given you and it has left you… sore, in a way, They may be a fire sign or make very quick and energetic moves. They are not very in touch with their emotions. I’m getting a masculine who, for example, goes to the gym instead of going to therapy. This person is kind of surface level in how far their ideals and emotions go. 💕Support me by becoming a Truth Seeker on Patreon, purchasing a reading, comment/like/share my content, or check out my work across the web!
Pile 2: This person is very direct even if they are not always successful. They may have some status or be well off in some way. It feels like they want to lay some ground work with you, or to work with you towards something solid. This may not be the first time they have considered this, but this time there is a more resolute energy. đź’•Support me by becoming a Truth Seeker on Patreon, purchasing a reading, comment/like/share my content, or check out my work across the web!
Pile 3: This person is leaving something. They may have just come to a conclusion that something needs to come to an end and they are leaving the situation. This person wants to tell you, but not necessarily in a celebratory way. They want to tell you this raw truth of theirs and that they are looking to the future with their head held up, even if this stings for awhile. đź’•Support me by becoming a Truth Seeker on Patreon, purchasing a reading, comment/like/share my content, or check out my work across the web!
~I'd rather you call and wake me up at 3am than let me wake up to a text message that says, "I'm sorry."~
-a poem of a new kind
~No, please don't hang up. You don't understand. The silence during our phone calls puts me to sleep because it is a calm silence. The silence after we hang up is so deafening that it keeps me awake for hours.~
-a poem of a new kind
that last phone call scene with bill and mike... what was all that about? it's like [zooms in on bill's ringless finger][just wanted to check up on you][light teasing][there's more we want to remember than forget, i like that one][tender smile, soft voice][go get 'em mikey][meaningful pause] [i love you]
“We absolutely should not be doing this,” the hero whispered, but there wasn’t any heat to it. The other end of the line rustled as the villain laughed.
“There are a lot of things we shouldn’t be doing. Namely, I shouldn’t commit felonies, you shouldn’t talk to a felon…” their friend trailed off.
This time, the hero was the one who laughed. Outside, a bird began to chirp with the sunrise, and the villain sighed.
“Time distance.”
“Time distance,” the hero agreed, and by god if the miles weren’t a wound in itself.
“You should sleep,” the villain murmured. The hero hummed.
“Probably, yeah.”
Neither of them hung up.
“If I promise to call tomorrow, will you go to bed, please? For me?”
The hero sniffed, eyes heavy as the sun peeked through their blinds.
“Promise?”
“Pinkie.”
The hero slumped backwards. “I won’t hang up though.”
The villain laughed, softly, with an affection the hero didn’t want to think about.
“I’ll do the heavy lifting, once again,” but the hero knew they smiled as they said. The line clicked off.
—————————
“Hey, Sunshine. Committing nefarious acts of kindness and good deeds, I take it?”
“Hey,” the hero was breathless, hand pressed against their side. It came back bloody.
Any humor dropped from the villain’s voice in an instant.
“You’re hurt.”
The hero managed a pathetic laugh, flinching.
“Just a little.”
“It doesn’t sound like a little.”
The hero eyed their wound, swallowing.
“Absolutely just a little.”
“It’s a good thing you’re the kid of a hero, because love, you absolutely suck at lying.”
The hero tried to pretend something didn’t warm in their stomach at the endearment.
“I have…bandages. And antiseptic. And some good old natural dirt to rub into it if all else fails.”
The villain sighed on the other end of the line, and the hero knew they were rubbing their brow. For some reason, despite the pain, it made the hero grin.
“I’m fine,” they promised, and when the villain stayed silent, they said it again. “I’m fine.”
“If you die I’ll be mad at you.”
“Fairly certain that is the wrong sentiment for a villain to have towards a hero—“
“Has the bleeding stopped?”
The hero slapped some tape around the edge of the gauze, blood still dried around the edges.
“Yes.”
The relief was palpable.
“Good. Go to bed.”
“You’ll call again?”
“Promise.”
The hero smiled.
“Pinkie.”
The villain hung up.
—————————
“You wouldn’t happen to have a flamethrower I could borrow, do you?”
The hero blinked, holding the phone away from their face for a moment.
“I’m sorry?”
“Oh, don’t be, I just need one,” the villain snorted, and a loud crash sounded in the background.
“What on earth are you doing?” Concern rolled in the hero’s gut. The villain laughed.
“You’re going to want plausible deniability sunshine.”
“Right,” they paused. “But why a flamethrower?”
“It has flames, it throws them, what else could I ask for in an object?”
“I can throw flames.” Even though the villain couldn’t see it, the hero let a spark flicker on their finger tips.
“And again,” the villain’s voice lowered. “What more could I ask for?”
The hero didn’t have a response to that, but the villain somehow, like they always did, knew that.
“Any bruises I should know about?”
“And what would you do about them? You live on the other side of the country,” the hero teased.
“I can steal a fighter jet in less than half an hour.”
The hero blinked at the seriousness in the villain’s tone. They laughed, nervously.
“Please don’t do that.”
The villain sighed. “You ruin my fun.”
“I haven’t arrested you, so I think that should get me brownie points.”
“You live on the other side of the country,” the villain parroted.
“I could get there faster than a fighter jet,” the hero said. The villain snorted again.
“Will you—“
“Call again? Pinkie.”
The hero smiled. “Promise.”
The villain hung up.
—————————
The hero picked up the phone on the third ring, smiling.
“Hey trouble maker, what’s—”
All they got in response was a pained wheeze.
“Villain,” the hero said, gut plummeting. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” the villain bit out, breath short. “I’m okay.”
“You don’t sound okay.”
The villain gave something that was either a laugh or a sob.
“Mhm.”
“What’s going on,” their voice broke, and the villain fell silent.
“It’s going to be okay,” they murmured. And the hero knew.
Innately, in a painful, wretched way, they knew.
“My dad is there.”
Their dad, the superhero. Their dad, who had forbidden them from ever speaking.
Their dad, who wanted the villain, their villain, dead.
The villain made a quiet noise of ascent.
“I’m coming—”
“You won’t make it.”
The hero stilled.
“How bad is it?” Their hands were shaking. They couldn’t find their suit, why couldn’t they find their suit—
“Too fast for a fighter jet,” the villain tried, voice too light and wet with tears.
The hero slammed a drawer closer, throwing open the door to the basement, searching for something, anything.
“I can be faster,” they grit out, breathless. Their chest hurt.
“Not that fast.”
“Please,” the hero sobbed, and on the other end of the line, the villain did too.
“Don’t do this to me.”
“I don’t want to,” the villain swore. They coughed, and it was a deathly thing.
Something slammed in the background on the end of the line, and the hero’s fingers clenched around the phone.
“What was that?”
The villain let out a pained whine, phone crackling as they shifted away, before their voice came over the speaker again.
“I’ll call again tomorrow.”
The hero’s face was wet.
“Promise?”
The villain let out a small sob, but they still sounded like they were smiling, soft with affection.
“Pinkie.”
The hero didn’t mean to say what came next.
“I love you.”
The villain didn’t even pause, breath hitching. “I love you too.”
The line crackled.
“Sunshine, I need you to do something for me now,” the villain rasped, voice choked with pain and tears and love and fear. “I need you to hang up.”
The hero forgot how to breathe.
“No—”
“Please,” the villain took a sharp breath through their nose, and it sounded painful. “Just this once. I can’t do it this time.”
“Villain,” the hero began, but the villain cut them off as something crashed in the background once more.
It sounded like a building falling.
It sounded like the hero breaking, too.
“Sunshine,” the villain pleaded. “Just once. I’ll-I’ll call you back. I swear.”
They could both taste the lie.
The hero sniffed.
The villain sobbed.
And for the first time, the hero hung up.
The villain never called them back.
Ever just get annoyed because your friend is on the phone.
Shoutout to this Patreon art I made back in August. Its crazy that its almost November
