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writing-whump · 5 months

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Ear infection

Isaiah reunites with his younger brother Arnie. Separation angst, ear infection, vomiting.

The university was busy before Christmas. The holidays carried many excuses for events and special offers that attracted potential students. As an assisting student at the psychology faculty, Isaiah was tasked with doing these little tours around the main university building. At regular hours, whether there was a whole high school trip of soon-to-be graduates or just a handful of interested mothers dragging their kids along. Or curious gap year takers thinking about their future plans. Since starting in the summer semester was possible at most faculties, these tours were relevant at the end of the year just as much as at its start.

Isaiah liked it. He felt a sense of beautiful responsibility that his tour and comments of the building's history and insight into student life could inspire someone to choose the main university or even his faculty. It was like watching the new generation pick its way.

"But why do not all classes occur here?" asked someone from the little crowd he gathered.

"The main university building is usually reserved for big lectures. We are talking about 300-500 people. The new university building has smaller classrooms that are more fitting for seminar settings of 20-30 people," he explained dutifully.

"So the university has more than one building?"

Yes, that was a favorite confusion question. "The university has many building complexes all over the city. The main building we are at is the largest and oldest one, but the newer ones are down both these streets. The new institute building or NIG is right next to it, where most of the faculties have their own floors and their respective teaching stuff have their offices."

"So it's like each faculty has a building or floor reserved for them? Like their own base?"

"Yes, that's a good comparison," Isaiah agreed. Base was a very wolf-related word, since each pack had their own base or layer in the city. It was correct, he just never used it in this context.

"What are you studying, sir, if I may ask?"

Isaiah was starting to be curious about the young male voice that kept asking as well, letting the group continue down the hall as he stood, trying to pick out his face.

"Psychology. Almost done with my master," he replied, turning his head.

"And you are already an assistant? That's nice for a mere student. And they don't mind you are a wolf?"

Isaiah's head jerked upright. Some people from the group hesitated mid-step to give him a confused look.

Isaiah was a wolf, a known one at that, and officially admitted at the faculty. But he prided himself in appearing completely human, in not letting his shadow act out of place. Ordinarily, he could do it with such finesse and skill, that a crowd of strangers wasn't able to recognize he was a wolf.

"Wolves can study at the university at any faculty they want," Isaiah recited automatically. "As long as they have their graduation and the wolf adult exam behind them."

"Are you saying there is no danger whatsover, when humans study with wolves?"

Isaiah could pick out a blonde head, but the boy asking was covered by a group of higher boys in front of him as they trailed after the group.

"There is danger whenever humans do anything together," Isaiah replied with a raised eyebrow. The group was almost at the end of the line,...finally the person asking came into view.

A mop of thick blond hair, carefully styled into locks. His face was long and elegant, though his cheeks still had that youthful fluffiness of teenage years. He looked a lot like Hector, just thinner and smaller, with way less muscle, but all the more cheekiness. His eyes weren't ember brown like Hector's either, but clear, bright emerald green. A colour Isaiah knew very well. It greeted him every day in the mirror.

Surprisingly enough, Arnold "Arnie" Wolfson hadn't change that much since he was 12, except his height. Lanky, cheeky and with eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I can say from experience wolves don't like humans in their packs very much, even their own family. It's funny that the tables turn at university," Arnie said with a grin, hands on his hips in challenge.

Isaiah was too stunned for words.

"What is it, mister psychology assistant? Wolf got your tongue? Or should I say shadow?" the blond teased.

"Arnie..."

"In the flesh," the blond boy said with a smile, though his eyes narrowed at him. "I'm glad you remember me."

"What are you doing here?" Was all Isaiah managed through his astonishment. It was like seeing a ghost, except the ghost grew up.

"Looking through my options, of course. I'm graduating this year and this is a famous university. Pretty high on the 100 best universities of the world list. Several lists, really. Good thing it's not that far from my base."

"Thats....ehmm...that's wonderful."

Arnie gave him a look. "So what now? Is the tour over?"

Isaiah shook himself awake, suspecting Arnie was enjoying this very much and turned back, putting his professional persona back on. He continued the tour more distracted than ever, his eyes always going back to look for Arnie in the crowd.

The next 30 minutes were torture. Isaiah couldn't focus, kept mixing up names of the auditoriums, led the group to a dead end twice until he simply let them out in the park, pointing at the Christmas market held in front of the university. That was fortunately enough of a distraction, the crowd dissolving in excitement.

When Arnie looked like he would turn and go too, Isaiah quickly hurried after him. It was like a bolt of lightning hit him in the head, but he was not about to let that bolt go now that it was there.

"Wait. Arnie, you-" he cringed at his own clumsiness. "Do you ehhh want to get lunch together? I know a good place."

Arnie gave him a toothy smile. "I thought you would never ask."

***

What do you talk about with a brother you haven't seen in last 6 years? After he left without explanation or contact information, getting exiled from the pack? Everyone called Isaiah a traitor. Their current leader, Uncle Grayson, gave an order to leave him alone, that he was no longer of interest.

Well, Arnie wasn't just a pack member. He was his brother and not a wolf to have to listen to orders. Shadows, dominance, power plays - those were wolf concerns he didn't have to worry about.

It turned out to be surprisingly easy to track Isaiah on social media. Facebook page, twitter, liking university announcements and public lectures, sharing events and new publications at the faculty...

That he was an assistant already was clear as a day. A point of pride. Arnie didn't quite know how to meet him, but he figured if he hung around all those events mentioned on his profile, he was bound to meet him somewhere.

Arnie's head was still spinning from the speed at which everything was going.

After the initial shock, Isaiah settled into a polite and serious mask - all professional smiles, suit and all. He brought him to a pretty good sushi place, bombarding him with enthusiastic questions about his favourite subjects, grades, hobbies, how he was, what faculties he was considering, if he needed help with finding somewhere to live or would be staying in the Wolfson pack base.

They didn't touch the topics Arnie actually wanted to ask about. Why did you leave? What happened to you? Didn't you miss us? Didn't you miss me?

Isaiah wasn't secretive about his own passions either. He told him all about his love for psychology, his favourite professors, research he was doing about city life and mental health and atmospheres of third places or whatever that was about. He mentioned he was known for mediating conflicts between packs and that he had many contacts, offering Arnie to arrange meetings with any friend or colleague whose studies Arnie could be interested in.

It was like a very polite and eager relative. You meet once a ten years when you need something from their city, they give you recommendations, pretend to catch up and then whoosh. See you in ten years. Isaiah was talking and asking for information to last him for at least that long.

Neither of them mentioned the Wolfson pack. Isaiah didn't ask about how Uncle Grayson was doing as a leader. Nor did he ask about Father. He mentioned meeting Hector in an off-hand way, like sure, we see each other at that wolf meet or in that park sometime.

When Hector talked about Isaiah, he never sounded so nonchalant about it. He always looked on the verge of breaking something or having an angry fit.

Was this all it was going to be? Catch up, pretend interest and goodbye?

Isaiah paid for his meal without asking and then took him to the Christmas market himself. It was pretty late at that point, temperature heading towards zero. Arnie was getting cold, but he wouldn't ruin his hair with a beanie and he wouldn't give Isaiah the excuse to go home by saying he was cold.

Isaiah was all flushed with energy, not minding the cold in typical wolf fashion.

It was impossible to keep up with wolves. Arnie was used to it.

As a human in a pack of wolves, Arnie was used to being the one defined by what he lacked. Humans in wolf families were common disappointments, things to be barely tolerated by the rest. Their position, just like Arnie's, depended on the rank of the wolf members in his family and their willingness to defend him.

For a very long time, he was spared of that knowledge though.

He had his brothers to thank for that. Isaiah was a prodigy since childhood and Hector was always chasing after him with enthusiasm and energy. They were well-respected and high ranking in their pack, no problems with their shadows since he could remember.

And they have never treated him any differently for being a human. Maybe they had been more careful and gentle with their shadows, but he had actually not realized there was anything wrong with him until he went outside of the protective den of their family apartment.

When other wolf pups his age or older made fun of him for being a useless human for the first time, Hector beat them with his bare hands, no shadow needed. Isaiah had held him in a hug the whole afternoon after like he couldn't bear to let go.

Arnie slowly realized that as a human, he was never getting anyone's respect in the pack. He would always be the defective one.

But he also quickly realized that he would never be touched again. Living with wolves meant always being surrounded by violence, being on the edge of it, always ready and eager. But Arnie was never afraid, never touched, never threatened.

Other wolves did not think any more of him for it. If anything, they hated him for that position and opted to ignore him completely.

But he always had his brothers. Even and maybe more so after his mother died when he was 4 and he forgot her voice and her face. Even when father was busy or ignoring him just like everyone else was.

At home, he was a person. He was valued and wanted and listened to and Isaiah and Hector never treated him like anything less, and hardly different than they did each other. Maybe a little better.

Things changed when Isaiah's training with their father intensified and he became the executioner for the pack. That was the first time Arnie had called for his brother, expecting to be given priority over anything else Isaiah could be doing - and he got no answer. Isaiah would shut the door and not answer for days to come, leaving a hole in their lives from one day to the next.

Now Hector reacted to that in a way a wolf would - he chased after him. With anger, rivalry and jealousy, with aggression and resentment. But Arnie knew at the core of that volatile anger was hurt and yearning to be taken seriously, to be acknowledged.

Hector was reaching out to Isaiah, but he was doing it in a way Arnie couldn't follow. Of that dynamic and effort between his brothers, he was excluded for the first time.

The pack became an incredibly lonely place after that. There was no skill or talent or interest Arnie as a human could prove himself with. There were days he didn't talk with anybody, when he didn't get a single hello. When he didn't know if he even existed, if no one saw him.

What was left to him was watching. He watched and stared and noticed things in his silence and learned to read people. Understand them. Wolves had their mannerisms and tells just like witches and humans did.

And he realized knowing things like this was power. He started to see people's weaknesses and poked at them. Teased. He could look at someone and tell what would hurt them. At night he made a list in his head, going through words and facts he found out, gathering things he knew would sting. Having words that could break someone in his arsenal was a weapon, a power and something they couldn't fight against.

So Arnie talked and he got reactions out of wolves. Helpless kind of hurt and frustration because they couldn't retaliate with a fight, but their shadows made it easy to tell he hit the target on point.

He got even better at this when Isaiah left. Their father was gone from leadership and their brother left them without explanation.

Uncle Grayson took over the pack, and regularly invited him to chess to show his favour.

Hector was inconsolable, his shadow angry and out of control in a way it never had been before. But when Arnie sat down at the gym or in his room beside him, his shadow subsided. Even at his lowest, Hector could not bear to raise his shadow around him. Arnie felt a little less useless, then. Like he brought him a little comfort, even if Hector wouldn't talk and wasn't ready to listen.

Shortly after he settled down, Hector found a new goal. He filled the hole Isaiah left behind with rank, training and hunger for power and success. Again, chasing after Isaiah in a way Arnie couldn't follow. Arnie couldn't resent it, because he understood. Wolves needed a goal or they would lose control.

Hector came into the city because of Isaiah. He spent years convincing their Uncle he could handle opening a new pack branch there, selecting people to take with him, and making a plan for every step and possibility to prove himself.

Arnie wasn't on the list.

But he was 18 now and graduating. It was the year of his entering adulthood that he could choose if he would stay with the pack - which would make them responsible for his finances, give him a cushion for whatever he studied or decided to do - or live by himself. Not like he was a poor orphan. He had lots of money after his mother and father as the youngest Wolfson heir on paper and by law.

The first thing he wanted to do since he turned 18 was to find Isaiah. Hector chased after him, but he resented him. He took Isaiah leaving as a personal betrayal and betrayal of the pack. And their father, who drew back from the pack as well, living alone.

Arnie couldn't care less about the pack politics and power he had no access or influence on anyway. He couldn't care less about a father that had barely spoken three words to him all his life. What he wanted was to find some kind of closure. Confront his brother and find out. What if there was a good reason why Isaiah left? What if there were circumstances out of his control and all he needed was someone to give him a chance to explain himself?

It was just as likely that Isaiah simply wasn't interested in either of them. And that Arnie was just going to humiliate himself by asking for the attention of someone who didn't want him around. Why else not contact any of them for 6 years?

He didn't expect Isaiah to be so friendly or that distant. That they could just talk and act like nothing was amiss with those years of secrets and absence between them.

But here they were.

As the hours went, Arnie was starting to feel anxious about the day coming to an end. Would it even be real, if they never saw each other again? How would Arnie now this truly happened to him in the morning?

Arnie followed after Isaiah a little forelonely to the end of the Christmas market, sneezing discreetly into his elbow.

Isaiah turned to him in thought. "Are you cold? We could...oh." He looked at his wrist watch. It was almost 11 pm. "Everything will be closing up around now. Do you...would you like to come to my place? You can spend the night too if you'd like."

Arnie's eyes went wide in surprise.

"My pack will probably be sleeping already, but you could meet them in the morning. Besides, you don't even know my address, right?"

Arnie couldn't hide how excited and breathless that offer made him. That looked like this wasn't the end!

"Give me your phone," Isaiah bossed, taking it from him and dialing up his own number. He waited until it rang before he returned the phone to Arnie. "There. Now you also have my number. You can call me and we can...we can go get lunch again. Or coffee. Or anything you want. How does that sound?"

Arnie nodded eagerly, feeling like he could cry from happiness. "Thank you! I would like that."

Isaiah smiled, a real wide smile that lit up his whole face. "Alright. Let's go then. It's like 20 minutes from my place by foot. Or would you prefer to take a tram?"

"It's fine, we can walk," Arnie said, waving the cold away. He couldn't feel cold or uncomfortable with how fast his heart was beating or how happy he was. He all but jumped around Isaiah like a goatling as they made their way to the apartment, playing a hundred-question game.

"Your favorite season of the year?" Isaiah asked.

"Summer. Because you can go swimming anytime, anywhere. Is yours still winter?"

"Yep, winter, alright. Everything is so clean and fresh and the snow...:

Arnie laughed. That didn't change much then.

Arnie's mouth was actually hurting from smiling and his teeth were chattering as they went inside.

The apartment was dark, no one was up, as Isaiah promised. Which worked great for Arnie, since he wanted Isaiah entirely for himself.

Isaiah watched him from the side as Arnie rubbed his hands together, getting feeling back into them and went to boil in some tea.

Arnie followed him, sitting down at the round table, watching, trying to soak up every moment, every detail, anything the place could tell him about his brother.

"Are you still a neat freak?" Arnie snickered as he looked around.

Isaiah smirked. "Am not. Everyone else is just untidy."

"Where is your room?"

"At the end of the hall. I share it with Matthew."

"Who is upstairs? The witch?"

"Yes. Seline." Isaiah said her name sweetly, like taking a spoon of honey.

"Ohhh," Arnie's eyes sparkled. "Is she your girlfriend?"

Isaiah took a sharp breath, looking at him. "How did you know?"

"I'm good at reading people," Arnie bragged with a smile, propping his chin on his entwined hands. His head felt kind of heavy and his left ear burned as it warmed up.

"Which tea do you want? I got earl gray, mint, fruit, herbal-"

"Whatever you are having. And exactly like it," Arnie said.

Isaiah gave him a surprised glace and a lifted an eyebrow but complied, smiling slightly to himself.

He brought two cups with mint tea with a bit of milk inside to the table. "I will get you blankets for the sofa. It can be extended and is quite comfortable, if you don't mind it?"

Arnie pouted. "Are we going to sleep already?"

Isaiah chuckled. "You don't want to yet? What would you like to do?"

"I could spend the night talking with you," Arnie said, flushing a little at how honest that was.

Isaiah shook his head as if he couldn't believe it, brushing Arnie's arm as he went by him.

He brought the blankets and Arnie got both of their mugs and they sat on the sofa together, letting a movie play in the background. Arnie had a lot more questions about Isaiah's current favourite movies, TV stations, if studying psychology made him like psychological thrillers more...if he could bridge over the lost 6 years in one night, he would do it.

Arnie didn't notice at what point he dozed off. His eyes were heavy though and he only woke up enough to feel Isaiah taking the mug from his hands and sliding him down on a pillow.

***

Arnie woke up to piercing pain in his ear. He shot up, blinking rapidly.

It hurt in his sleep too, tender to the touch, but now it actually disturbed him enough he didn't think he could sleep.

He wasn't even lying on it, but it still hurt. It felt all stuffed up too, as if he had liquid stuck in it. Oww.

Getting up from the sofa was a slow process, since he needed a little time to orient himself in the dark, unfamiliar place. Small chance he could sleep with the way his ear hurt though.

He went to the kitchen, opening the cupboards half-heartedly to look for medication, but he couldn't find anything useful aside from mugs and plates. Maybe he should wake Isaiah up for a painkiller.

Returning to the living room, he stumbled against a chair and almost fell. The rattle would have woken a man, not just a wolf.

"Arnie? What's going on?" Isaiah's sleepy voice came from the living room. He must have fallen asleep beside him.

"Hey, Zaya? I know this is a bit stupid and I'm sorry to bother you...." He felt dizzy standing there. What was wrong with him? As if his sense of balance was shot. Arnie gripped the edge of the round table, swaying slightly.

Isaiah got up from the sofa immediately, all signs of sleep leaving his face in the few steps he took to get to Arnie. "What's wrong?"

"Do you have any painkillers here? M-my ear really hurts." Arnie tried to smile, hand hovering over the offending organ. It hurt the whole time, as if someone lit it on fire.

Isaiah's eyebrows furrowed. "Your ear? Did you get a cold?" His hand went to Arnie's forehead as if it was the normal thing to do. Arnie froze a little under the touch, but Isaiah's hand was nice and warm and he leaned into it a little, closing his eyes. He still felt weirdly dizzy and untethered, his stomach flipping inside him.

"No, don't think so. It's nothing, Zaya. Promise."

"Uh-uhm." Isaiah didn't look convinced. "You are burning up. Go back under the blankets, I'll find you something."

Arnie nodded gratefully, pushing himself away from the table only to stumble again and lose his balance. The floor came up suddenly and he prepared himself for the impact, when strong hands caught him by the waist. "What's going on with you? It's like you are drunk."

"I don't know..." Arnie blinked dizzily as Isaiah helped him straighten up, then wrapped a hand around his back and led him back to the sofa.

Everything was twirling. Arnie sat down heavily, bowing his head between his knees, taking deep breaths. Trying to calm down. This was nothing serious. He wasn't a child. Despite that, the pain in his ear felt like it was vibrating and he felt heavy and hot.

His throat closed up. He was going to ruin their happy reunion with this. Isaiah would send him home and they would never see each other again.

Isaiah came back shortly, arms stuffed with things he spread out on the table. "Hey. Arnie, lift your arm for me. I'm going to take your temperature. For now, take the ibuprofen. Should help with the pain."

Arnie didn't dare to nod with how out of focus and tilted everything was, accepting the thermometer under his arm and taking the pills with a glass of water.

His stomach wasn't very happy about that gulp, though. It flipped inside him again and he groaned, wrapping his arms around his middle.

"Arnie? Kiddo, hey..."

"Think," he gulped loudly as the nausea spiked and the water sloshed against the back of his throat, "m gonna be sick."

Arnie didn't even have time to think about how entirely embarrassing and disgusting that was and how he was going to chase Isaiah away now for sure.

Isaiah jumped to his feet and Arnie felt the swish of air as he hurried away. He trembled, his mouth flooding with saliva.

His stomach gave a twist and he felt the water shooting up his throat, but suddenly there was a trashcan in his lap. Just in time for him to gag harshly over it as the gulp of water and the painkiller came rushing up, grazing against his throat.

Arnie did not expect the gag to make the pain in his ear explode. Stupid tubes, being all connected. He whimpered as the pressure escalated and he gagged again. Another splash of water and pieces of undigested chestnuts from the market came along with it, hitting the bottom of the trash bag.

He felt tears spring up his eyes as he convulsed over it, fighting off the next gag. Anything to stop the pain in his ear from burning like that. There was drool hanging from his lips and chin and he sobbed.

Isaiah's hand was on his back that instant. He held the trashcan under his chin, murmuring something Arnie didn't understand through the buzzing in his own ears, but it was the gentlest, most soothing tone he ever heard from him. It reminded him of his childhood, how he would curl up on top of Isaiah whenever he was sick and his brother would hold him diligently, wrapping him in his warmth and reassurances.

Arnie pressed his palm against his mouth, trying to stop the next wave. The nausea was still there, made worse by the pain and now his head was pounding as well.

"Shhhh. You are okay. You are okay. Take deep breaths now."

"Hurtssss," Arnie sobbed, his other hand going to his ear as he bowed his head. The trashcan disappeared and Isaiah sat down next to him, rubbing gentle circles against his back.

"Ssshhh. I know. It will be okay. Just calm down. You probably got an ear infection. That's nothing. I'll get you some warm compress for it and it will go away in no time."

Isaiah made a move to stand. Arnie felt a wave of panic and dread rush through him, looking up and blinking rapidly against the bluriness. "No, no, no. Don't go."

"Arnie, I'll be right b-"

"Don't leave me again. Please."

"Just to get the warm compress, kiddo. It will be a second, I promise."

Isaiah left.

Arnie wanted to follow him, but his legs wouldn't hold him. He was shaking from exhaustion, his ear was hurting, and he had to fight against nausea flooding him instantly with the panic. He curled up on the sofa, hands wrapped around his stomach as he sobbed against the leather fabric.

After what felt like million years, something warm pressed against his left ear. Arnie winced, nose all clogged up from snot as he cried, each watery breath making the fire in his ear worse.

Isaiah stood above him for a bit, before he sat down, hands around Arnie. He dragged him over to his lap, letting Arnie curl up on his knees and sob against his chest. He held the warm cloth against Arnie's ear, rubbing his arm in a soothing manner.

Arnie fisted his fingers in Isaiah's shirt. He would not let him go this time around.

***

The rest of the night and early morning went like that. Isaiah held Arnie in his lap, holding the compress to his ear and talking about everything and nothing he could think of. Arnie seemed to react well to his voice.

Sometimes Arnie would sleep fitfully, only to wiggle and trash as he wanted to turn and Isaiah wouldn't let him, tightening his hold so Arnie wouldn't turn on his left ear. Sometimes it would wake him up and make him cry again.

Sometimes he would shudder and swallow heavily, which Isaiah learned by the third time that Arnie drooled all over his front that that was his cue for vomiting.

He held the kid as he vomited into the trashcan in his arms and then sagged back again. The fever was radiating off him and the little whimpers and tears that came with his ear reacting to puking were breaking Isaiah's heart. As if it wasn't broken enough.

Isaiah thought today was a gift. A unique, rare little gift. He didn't dare to contact his brothers on his own. The play pretend that he was the traitor, was important for the pack and he needed his brothers to believe it, so everyone else could believe it. At the time. Now, after years, he resented that duty.

He was also way too scared they hated him by right. Just like Hector did, blaming Isaiah for abandoning them, for putting the pack's future at risk, for choosing a different life instead of theirs...not even if Isaiah explained that every day back at the Wolfson pack was torture for him, that his heart pains were caused by it, that he hated every single second...would they want to listen?

And then Arnie came. All open and eager and giving him a chance instead of bombarding him with questions and accusations.

He needed that. Isaiah needed someone to believe in the good of him for once. It broke him a little every time Hector snarled at him, that neither of his brothers probably believed he didn't leave them willingly, that he missed them like you miss a part of yourself, how he flinched and hurt every time a wolf with a temper or a kid with blond hair passed him by...

Isaiah really let himself hope maybe this wasn't over. That's why he offered Arnie all the contact information. If the boy wanted to stay in touch, maybe Isaiah wouldn't break any promise in seeing him from time to time, even if he never told him the truth. It was too painful and messy and complicated. But if Arnie could accept him as he was, maybe they could rebuild something from there.

Arnie didn't ask why Isaiah left. Not once. Isaiah didn't know what to make of it. Did it mean he was forgiven? Or that Arnie knew something, guessed something and so he wouldn't make Isaiah talk about it?

Did it mean Arnie didn't care anymore and just wanted to check how he was doing and cut contact again? It wasn't like either Arnie or Hector looked or reached out to him, when he was away. He figured they were too hurt and disgusted with him to do so...

But Arnie got downright inconsolable, whenever Isaiah tried to get up. To change his vomit-covered shirt, to get tissues, to get water...Arnie would cry and weil and sob himself into panic Isaiah was leaving again. No matter how Isaiah explained, no matter how quickly he got back.

Matthew found him in the morning as he prepared for his regular run.

"What the fuck happened here?"

Isaiah had to admit it was a mess. There were tissues all over the place, the towels he kept soaking in warm water and held against Arnie's ear and sometimes had to sacrifice when Arnie got sick while still pressed against Isaiah's chest, the thermometer, the packages of pills Arnie couldn't hold down,...

"Hey, Matt. You met my little brother?"

Matthew's eyebrows furrowed. "I met the mean one. Which one is this?"

The kid lay completely limp against him, out of his sweaty shirt, breathing raggedly. But Isaiah thought his fever wasn't so high anymore and he actually kept a few sips of water down for the last hour. He would probably take him to a doctor today anyway, to get that ear checked out.

Isaiah caressed the center of Arnie's creased forehead. "I think this one wants to give me a chance."

---

@bellysoupset

#sickfic #emeto #vomiting #hurt/comfort #bromance #brothers #whump #emeto writing #my writing #werewolf wip #they say writing leads to more writing #I always post these so close to one another #sigh #I should pace it over the week I know #this is a long one 🙈#Arnie

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secondtechnicianrimmer · 3 months

Text

Space Corp. Directive #1215225

For some ungodly reason, you fancy the second technician, but you'd be damned if you ever admitted it.

Pairing: Arnold Rimmer x (F) Reader

Warnings: None! Apart from some flirting

Chapter Five: Last Day

“Well, it's all very sad, Lister, but what can we do?”

You looked up from the robotics manual Lister had pushed under your nose.

Rimmer was lying on his bunk, examining his fingernails despite the fact it was physically impossible for them to get dirty. He didn’t seem bothered by Kryten’s potential shut off, even though you and Lister had been feeling queasy all day at the thought.

“Sad? It's sick!”

Lister had been scouring some sort of manual for over an hour now, though you weren’t sure if it was because he truly cared about Kryten or if he was just having difficulty with the bigger words. You also weren’t sure how this was all actually supposed to help Kryten but once Lister set his mind to helping a friend, he could not be talked down.

“He’s been programmed to believe in an android heaven so that he doesn’t get stroppy when it comes to turn-off time. So he accepts a lifetime of getting the short end of the stick because he thinks there's going to be some big reward at the end.”

Rimmer scoffed.

“Well, at least he gets 24 hours notice. That's more than most of us get. All most of us get is, ‘Mind that bus!’ ‘What bus?’ Splat .”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused by his brevity. He could act as cool and callous as he liked, he wasn’t going to get out of helping and he certainly wasn’t going to convince you that he didn’t care about the mechanoid.

“Speaking from experience there, Rimmer?”

“I do have a particularly unique perspective on the matter, yes.”

“From what I hear, you were given quite a lot of loud, ship-wide notice that you were about to pop your army boots.”

“I’m just saying, we all have to die sometime. Androids too. And it’s nice that he can get his affairs in order first.”

“Does Kryten have any affairs?”

Rimmer shrugged and went back to his nails.

“I’m sure there’s a mop and bucket somewhere on B Deck that’ll have to wear black for a while.”

You looked back down at the manual. If it had been any other time and he wasn’t being such a twat, that probably would've made you smile.

“How's he taking it?” Rimmer asked.

Lister went back to moping.

“Just keeps on doing his stupid smeggin' duties.”

“Maybe I should talk to him.” With a grunt, Rimmer lifted his legs and rolled to his feet. “Maybe he needs a bit of counselling.”

“You?”

You watched him as he sat down across the table from you. Again, you thought that if the stakes were different, if Kryten wasn’t in danger and there wasn’t a ticking countdown in all your minds, you’d be really enjoying the sight of Rimmer in his green short-sleeved roll neck, and thinking about all the fun you could have with those bloody braces.

“I used to be in the Samaritans!”

“I know! For one morning!”

Rimmer pulled a face.

“Well, I couldn't take any more.”

“I don't blame you. You spoke to five people and they all committed suicide.”

“Oh, for Io’s sake, Rimmer,” you had to laugh. “What did you say to them?”

“Probably just told them his life story.” Lister shook his head. “I wouldn't mind, but one was a wrong number! He only phoned up for the cricket scores!”

“Well, it's hardly my fault that everyone chose that particular day to throw themselves off buildings! Made the papers, you know. ‘Lemming Sunday’ they called it.”

You nudged the leg of his chair, making him jolt and have to grab for the table, which of course his hand fell right through.

The physics of his body made no sense to you, how he was able to sit and lie down, but couldn’t actually touch anything. You knew the holographic technology onboard was sophisticated enough to detect the presence of an object’s surface. He wasn’t actually sitting, but hovering ever so slightly above the chair. It was all an illusion. Still, it made your heart jump to think that Rimmer’s body had been affected by your action. It was the closest you’d ever come to touching him.

“I need you to look a touch less proud about it, Arn.”

He sneered at you across the table but Rimmer didn’t actually seem to mind it when you teased him. Perhaps because he knew you never actually meant any harm.

Lister flipped through a few more pages of his instruction manual.

“Maybe we could find his shut-off disk and turn it off somehow.”

“He's not a kit droid, Lister. He's not like that stupid thing Peterson bought on Callisto.” Rimmer shook his head. “We wouldn't know where to begin!”

“Be funny if you accidentally killed him while you were trying to save him.” You looked up to find both men staring at you. “No, you’re right, that wouldn’t be funny at all.”

“What can we do?” Rimmer went on. “He's pre-programmed to self-destruct.”

“At least we can help! At least we can make sure he goes out with a bang, give him one last big smeggin' night to remember.”

“How do we do that? He doesn't like doing anything! His idea of a good time is for us all to go up to the laundry room and fold some sheets!”

Rimmer’s mouth tugged back at the corners, forming a very Krytenesque expression as he mimicked the mech.

“Fun? Ah yes, the employment of time in a profitless and non-practical way.”

“Hey, I don't know much,” Lister rose to his feet, an idea blazing behind his eyes. “But one thing I do know is how to throw a good time!”

He ran off gleefully, leaving you and Rimmer alone.

Nerves stirred in your chest but you did your best to ignore them.

He rolled his eyes so deeply you worried they might get stuck in the back of his head, then Rimmer sighed and raised his chin at you.

“I suppose you’ll be helping him carry out this pointless caper.”

You wrinkled your nose.

Rimmer’s reluctance to do anything nice for his friends irked you no end. Sometimes it really did bewilder you, as you were sure it did Lister and the others, why on earth you were so attracted to him. He could be such a git, he never had anything nice to say, and he was a true coward, through and through.

But if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t believe that. Not really. And the small moments where he allowed himself to relax and be sweet kept your heart coming back for more.

Though he couldn’t touch you, Rimmer was always near you, always interested in what you were doing and always pestering you to join him on walks or to watch one of his mind-numbing war documentaries. And his voice was different when it was just the two of you, softer, gentler, and although he never lost his snark, he didn’t have to be on the defensive with you.

Perhaps you could admit, if only to yourself, that the small crush you’d been concealing so poorly over the last few months, had grown into affection. You’d even come to accept that, maybe, possibly, you had feelings for the idiot.

“Kryten’s just as much my friend as you are,” you said, raising an eyebrow that warned him he was being an idiot.

Rimmed huffed and crossed his arms.

“Oh, thanks. You’re lumping me in with that glorified hoover?”

“He was your friend before he was mine, aren’t you worried about him?”

“He’s not my friend,” Rimmer stated firmly. “He hates me. You remember how we found him on that old derelict? And what he said about me even when I invited him to stay with us? To share our home?”

“That was a long time ago, Arn.”

You tried to sound placating but you found it hard to repress a smile as you pictured Kryten painting an embarrassing portrait of Rimmer, then told him where he could stick it. Lister was wiping tears from his eyes as he relayed the story, but Rimmer didn’t find it quite so hilarious.

“Still,” he said, his lip curled. “He’s a smarmy know-it-all who thinks scrubbing the bogs is a recreational activity. I’m sorry if I don’t feel sorry for him.”

You sighed and closed the manual. It had been about as useless as trying to convince Rimmer to be kind when he didn’t feel like it.

“Well, I’m going to help Dave. Better than sitting around doing nothing all day.”

As you stood to leave, you dropped the book with a little more strength than you meant to. It clattered across the table, sliding so far, it almost fell into Rimmer’s lap. He stared at it, then looked up at you.

Despite his obvious social weaknesses, Rimmer must have been able to tell that he’d disappointed you. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he thought of what to say next, while you stared at the book and debated whether you should leave or let him try and make it better.

Finally, Rimmer’s eyes slowly dropped to the table.

“I’ll help,” he said. “You’re right. He’s my… Crewmate. I’ll help.”

You sighed, feeling your chest ease.

“Good,” you said. Then, “You know, you don’t have to go above and beyond. You just need to be nice.”

“Nice? Me?” Rimmer repeated incredulously, then he smiled to let you know he was attempting a joke.

It worked. You smiled too. How annoying.

“You can be lovely when you want to be,” you said, begrudgingly. “Just do this for me. Please, Arnie.”

He sighed, as if the effort was herculean, as if it would be painful to even try. But he nodded.

“Fine. For you.”

The party started at 8pm - that’s what the frantically organised invitation you received just an hour ago had told you - so you made sure to arrive at the officer’s club just before then.

The boys were already there. Lister jumped a foot in the air when he saw you come in, his eyes wide.

“Easy, man! I thought you were Kryten!”

“Oh, thanks,” You laughed. “You know, I wasn’t sure about this dress at first but that really helps, Dave.”

“Don’t be daft. You look great. Come in, come in, sit down, grab a party popper.”

You were ushered into the seat beside Rimmer. You didn’t have time to wonder if Lister had sat you there on purpose, you were immediately distracted by the man to your left.

“Oh, wow.”

You let your gaze wander up and down Rimmer’s body, drinking him in. The tux fit him perfectly, pulling in at the waist and emphasising his broad shoulders. There was a perfect red rose in the buttonhole, and his neat bow tie was just begging to be pulled.

“Where’d this little number come from?”

Rimmer seemed a little embarrassed by the attention.

“Programmed it in a few weeks back.” He shrugged. “You never know.”

“It’s very spiffy. I love the tie. Where’ve you been hiding all this style, Bond?”

“There hasn’t been an occasion for it. Ah! I almost forgot.”

Rimmer clicked his fingers, and thanks to Holly, a spangly, fur-trimmed tricorn hat appeared on top of his head.

You couldn’t stop smiling if your life depended on it.

“Sorry, is this Kryten’s surprise party or mine?”

Rimmer’s face fell.

With a lurch, you realised you’d pushed the teasing just that little bit too far. Rimmer often let you get away with things he wouldn’t usually take from the others but that didn’t mean his patience couldn’t be tested.

“Shut up, Lefty,” he muttered, twisting round in his seat so that he was facing away from you.

“No, no I mean it! I think you look great!”

“Arlight, I get it.”

You sighed.

“Arnold, you’re not listening to me.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

If you’d been able to, you would’ve slipped a hand around his arm and pulled him back to look at you. But you couldn’t. So you settled for leaning right over the table until you were in his eye-line again.

“I think you look really handsome,” you said, smiling.

Rimmer met your gaze. Something shifted behind his eyes, like a match had been struck. You thought perhaps it was the sign of something in him beginning to heal, or at least, of trust beginning to form.

“Oh,” he said.

His eyes moved across your face before meeting yours again. When he did, the corner of his mouth tugged back into the tiniest of smiles.

“Well… Thank you.” Rimmer’s gaze went wandering again for a moment, then he said, “You look amazing.”

“Yeah?”

You grinned so wide it made your cheeks ache. Later, you would have plenty time to berate yourself for not playing it cooler, for being so embarrassingly pleased by the compliment, but right now, you just wanted to enjoy the uncharacteristic warmth in Rimmer’s voice, and watch his gaze as it, once again, got lost somewhere around your mouth.

“Yes.” Rimmer’s smile grew just a little. “You always look…”

He stopped, his lips pressing together as if he’d said too much.

You honestly could have cried.

“Yeah?” you pressed, but then Lister reached around Rimmer and frantically slapped your arm.

“He’s coming!”

Someone, probably Holly, switched off the lights and you were plunged into darkness.

You didn’t have a chance to ask Rimmer anything else. Kryten wandered into the doorway, dressed in the tuxedo Lister had left out for him to wear.

“Hello?” he called. “Is there anybody here?”

Suddenly, the lights sprang back on.

“It’s party time!” Lister yelled, while the Cat threw streamers up in the air, his pointed teeth bared in a grin.

Rimmer clapped enthusiastically, and you followed suit, trying to hide how flustered your conversation had left you.

Kryten staggered into the room, his arms anxiously held aloft.

“But this is the officers’ club! Mechanoids aren't allowed in here!”

The Cat scoffed and ushered him into the only empty chair.

“C'mon, c'mon, sit down, sit down. Let me pour you a drink.”

You couldn’t believe the spread Lister had managed to pull together. Despite the limited resources, he’d managed to cover the table in streams and sequins, and there were plates and plates of food that could kill a human stone dead, made just for Kryten.

Every other inch of the table not taken up by dinner or decorations was filled by cans of nose-wrinkling beer, champagne, and a dangerous bottle of rum that, by the end of dinner, had left your head feeling nice and heavy.

“My goodness, I do believe I am drunk,” Kryten said, echoing precisely what you’d just been sluggishly thinking.

He shakily rose to his feet and started to flap his arms about.

“I suddenly feel the need to strut my funky stuff!”

Holly, with her sparkling tiara barely clinging to her pixelated head, slurred a warning,

“Sit down! It's the booze, you're not us-used to it.”

You frowned, feeling oddly indignant on Kryten’s behalf.

“Well, hey, if he wants to dance, let him dance!” You tried to get up but found it took several attempts to get your legs to comply. “I’ll dance with you Kryten, c’mon.”

With his grand hat now sat sideways, Rimmer was also completely out of his tree. He tried to wrap his hand around your wrist but it went straight through you.

“You dance like a drunken monkey,” he said, as you fell back into your seat.

You gasped, offended.

“I do not! I have flare, I have grace-”

“You have two left feet! That’s the real reason why we call you ‘Lefty’.”

Rimmer’s hand fell through one of your windmilling arms again, but he was so tipsy, he didn’t seem to notice. You saw it though. And you noticed something you never had before. When Rimmer’s hand passed through yours, you felt it, you felt something, you felt him. Even projected light gave off heat, and for a fraction of a second, Rimmer’s warm hand had felt oh so very real against your skin.

Feeling bold from the drink and embarrassingly needy after your time in Better Than Life, you leaned closer until your face was mere inches from Rimmer’s.

“Well, maybe,” you said, slow and certain despite the voice in the back of your head telling you to stop. “You should get up and teach me a few moves, second technician.”

Rimmer was smiling, really smiling. It pulled you in deeper; you were practically in his lap.

“Are you pulling rank, Lieutenant?”

“I absolutely am.”

There was no denying it this time. Rimmer’s heavy gaze fell to your mouth and stayed there for far too long to be accidental.

You watched, cheeks burning, as he slowly dragged his eyes back to yours. It seemed to take some effort, though whether that was because he didn’t want to or because the drink had made him sleepy, you couldn’t be sure. You had an idea, though.

“I remember the first time I got drunk,” Lister said suddenly. “School trip to Paris.”

His voice made you jump. You’d honestly forgotten the others were there. As Lister told his story, and as the night wore on, they kept looking at you and Rimmer, passing knowing looks and smiles between themselves.

You could feel Rimmer watching you too. Unashamed, you stared right back. Then you smiled, unable to help yourself.

It must’ve been a little lopsided and silly but he smiled back and appeared to move a little closer. You knew if he could, Rimmer might have slung an arm around your shoulders or your waist, maybe even rested his hand on your knee under the table.

Kryten stumbling and falling out of his chair was the signal to call it a night. You all swayed down the corridor, bumping into the walls like pinballs.

The boys headed for Lister’s quarters to keep the festivities going, but your interaction with Rimmer had left your head spinning, and that paired with the alcohol was making it hard to stand up straight. You decided to call it a night.

After kissing Kryten’s rubber cheek and telling him to have fun, you pressed your hand against the wall and carefully, slowly, staggered back to your own quarters.

“I’ve got you.”

You looked up.

Rimmer was watching you with a smile. He hadn’t gone with the others.

“I can’t help you or do anything if you do tumble, but I can run and get help if you fall into the rubbish chute.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

Rolling your eyes made you want to throw up so you settled for smiling at him.

Rimmer’s bow tie was unknotted now, and was hanging around his neck in such an enticing way, you honestly could have sobbed. You wanted to touch him so bad.

You couldn’t say any of this though. Even tipsy, the sensible part of your brain had some control. Instead, you said the first thing that popped into your head.

“I’m sorry about your uncle, Arn.” You leaned back against the wall, letting it take your weight for a minute. “That was awful.”

He looked surprised. To his credit, it had come out of nowhere, but the story he’d told the group had been rolling around in your head all night.

“It’s alright,” Rimmer said quietly.

“It’s not, Arnie.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“I didn’t laugh. I know they might think it’s- I didn’t laugh.”

“I know. I saw.”

He smiled again, small and oddly sweet. It made your chest heave. Suddenly, telling him you might be a little bit in love with him didn't feel like such a stupid idea. Then the world began to tilt.

“Woah, woah…”

Rimmer reached out for you but, of course, could do nothing to help you as you slipped down the wall. You managed to catch yourself just in time, the pair of you giggling as you clawed yourself upright again.

“Sorry, I can’t-” Rimmer laughed breathlessly. “I can’t catch you or carry you. You’re gonna have to sort yourself out, Lefty.”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it. I appreciate the thought, though.”

Together, you carefully picked your way down the corridor until you managed, after some consternation, to find your door.

You slapped your hand against the keypad and looked over your shoulder to find Rimmer still watching you.

Was he worried about you getting home safe? That would be a turn up for the books. Rimmer didn’t care about anyone apart from himself, yet another argument for not telling him you spent most of the day daydreaming about riding him to within an inch of his not-life.

The door slid open.

“Are you coming in?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Rimmer gaped at you.

“To..? To your quarters?”

“Yeah, if you like. Why not? There’s room. And I don’t wanna say goodnight to you yet.”

You went inside but Rimmer hesitated. He glanced down the hallway when a raucous cheer echoed down from his and Lister’s room. It would be okay if he wanted to go, but you didn’t think he did.

You heard the door swish shut. Simulated footsteps padded across the rug you’d stolen from the Captain’s office your first week onboard. You smiled to yourself.

“I don’t think I’ve been in here since you moved in,” Rimmer’s voice was faint as he looked around your quarters. “I had this room for a while.”

“Well, if you ever get bored of Lister’s snoring, you can move back in any time.”

You kicked off your shoes, getting yourself comfy. Rimmer, on the other hand, hadn’t moved further than the edge of the rug.

“Arnie?” You smiled. “I wasn’t kidding, I’d like you to stay. If you want to.”

“Why?”

“I…”

That was a good question. You knew the answer, of course. You enjoyed being with him. You liked talking to him. Inviting him to stay the night made you feel normal, like he was just a handsome man you’d gone on a couple of dates with back home, and not a hologram who’d helped rescue you from a burning starship. When he was close, you were happier, simple as.

But you knew Rimmer wouldn’t understand that, not after the way he’d been treated his whole life, and everything that had happened after that life.

“I just…” Coward. “I just like having you around, I s’pose.”

Everything went quiet then. You watched Rimmer’s face, watched as his eyebrows sank and the bridge of his nose wrinkled. The corners of his mouth turned down as his hands balled into fists at his sides, and all you could do was watch and drunkenly wonder why he found it all so difficult.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Rimmer said suddenly.

Taken-aback, you could only blink at him stupidly.

“What?”

“From the beginning, you’ve always been so nice to me. Why?”

“I…” You stammered for a second, unsure of how to answer. “I don’t know. I like you. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because no one likes me! No one ever likes me.”

Your heart stumbled.

“That’s not true,” you said quietly.

“And I was horrible to you when we met!” Rimmer shook his head like he was trying to read about thermodynamics in Italian. “I don’t understand you at all.”

It was getting harder and harder to stand, so you flopped down on the bed, hoping that would help keep your head from spinning.

He was right. Rimmer hardly spoke to you the first few days you were onboard. And you never had the courage to ask why. He just slowly warmed up to you, just as Lister assured you he would. Now, you couldn’t imagine letting a day go past without spending time with him, and you suspected the feeling was mutual.

“I was new,” you said, with perhaps more diplomacy than he deserved considering the way he’d treated you. “You didn’t know if you could trust me. I understood. Really, Arn, I did.”

“But I was awful to you. I didn’t want to be in the same room as you for weeks.”

“Why was that? You’ve never apologised. I didn’t expect you to but… I’d like to know why.”

“Because I…”

He stopped.

You watched him, waiting. He was swaying slightly. Or was that you? It was hard to tell. The room was still spinning.

“What Arn?”

“Because I- I was jealous!”

“Jealous?” You shook your head. “What- Why? Of what?”

“Of you!”

You hadn’t expected that. By the look on his face, Rimmer hadn’t expected to admit it either. His eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere apart from you, and finally settled down by his shoes.

“Me?” you repeated, stunned.

Rimmer sighed.

“You’re brave and you’re- You’re kind, and you’d only been here five minutes and the others already liked you more than me. And you’re smart, and you’re capable, and beautiful and you outrank me and-”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

Rimmer looked embarrassed.

“That’s not the point.”

It was a stupid thing to focus on. He’d said so many nice things about you in the space of a few seconds, picking out that one probably made you seem vacuous and superficial. But it was just so thrilling. It made your heart rise up in your chest, pushing against your ribs, like it was trying to reach him.

“Arnie…” You smiled. “Do you think I’m beautiful?”

Slowly, his face softened. Rimmer seemed to realise that you weren’t making fun of him, you really were just happily surprised. Still, the booze and the weird night had obviously left him a little disoriented, and you thought Rimmer must be having as much difficulty navigating whatever it was that fizzled between you as you were.

At last, he took a step forward.

“You’re tilted at about a 60° angle, you know,” Rimmer said quietly.

He came to a stop just in front of you, so the toes of his boots were almost touching your blue socks.

You looked up at him, just enjoying how tall and handsome he was for a moment.

“It’s been ages since I was this worse for wear. Sorry for…”

“It’s alright.”

Rimmer obviously didn’t want to talk about his feelings anymore. That was clearly enough emotion for one night. Your mind was still whirring though, and the confession you’d been rehearsing for weeks teetered dangerously on the tip of your tongue.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

He was starting to hover again. He kept glancing towards the door. If he wanted to go, why didn’t he just go? You weren’t stopping him.

“Can you get me anything?” you asked, feeling suddenly despondent.

“Fair point.”

Rimmer looked towards the door again.

You almost told him it was fine, you were fine, he didn’t need to stay if he didn’t want to. But before you could, he surprised you by sitting down next to you on the bed.

It was an odd sensation. You’d been close to him many times, squashed up together in Starbug when Lister’s driving got a little creative; walking side by side as you explored a floral asteroid or an empty moon; sitting next to each other in the cinema, your hands almost but never touching, the urge to rest your head on his shoulder omnipresent but impossible.

Still, it was strange. To be near a person and not be able to touch them. To be able to feel warmth coming off them, see their chest rise and fall, watch their eyelashes brush their cheeks and their hands slip self consciously up and down their thighs, and know they weren’t real. Well, Arnold was real to you. It was probably about time you told him.

“I’ve missed this. Parties. Having a laugh with your mates.”

You smiled, nodding your head towards the door just as an excited shriek that definitely came from Cat rolled down the corridor.

Rimmer merely nodded, his hands now cradled in his lap. He couldn’t seem to meet your gaze but you knew you had his attention.

“You know, usually, I’d, erm… Hah, I’d usually end the night curled up on someone’s sofa with no blanket, so I’m very grateful for you taking me to bed.”

Rimmer looked at you like he was dying to ask if that was on purpose. Instead, he shrugged.

“I’ve woken up in a few strange places in my time. Don’t worry.”

“And I would always end up doing something stupid, you know. Like kissing someone I shouldn’t.”

Rimmer actually blushed.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat.

“It didn’t happen often.”

“Of course.”

“Exciting when it did though.”

“Yes, I- I suppose it would be.”

You waited. Either the penny hadn’t dropped, or it had and Rimmer just didn’t want to acknowledge it, because he was looking at you blankly.

With a sigh, you turned your body, hiking one leg up onto the bed and crossing it so that you could lean in closer. The man had spent his whole life belittled and bullied and humiliated. Sometimes, you just had to speak plainly.

“Arnold,” you said. “You should stay tonight.”

Rimmer didn’t react. You wondered if he’d somehow misheard you, or not heard you at all. You were still pretty tipsy, even if you could slowly feel your head beginning to clear. Rimmer was still drunk too by the looks of things. Maybe you were mumbling and he was too far gone to catch it anyway. Should you try again? God, no. This conversation was embarrassing enough as it was.

That train of thought was thankfully stopped in its tracks when Rimmer slowly shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said quietly.

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you straightened up.

“Oh.”

“You’re drunk, Lefty. It wouldn’t be right to-”

“I really like you,” you blurted out.

Rimmer blinked.

“Thank you?”

“No, I mean-” You huffed and closed your eyes, trying to force your spinning head to focus. “I really like you, Arnie. I think about you all the time. I-”

“Darling, it’s fine. You don’t have t-”

Darling. You were right.

“I want to kiss you so bad, it’s killing me.”

It really did go quiet then. Even the boys a few doors down had fallen silent at last.

Rimmer stared at you. He just stared and stared. You didn’t blame him. You wouldn’t know what to do with that either. But then his gaze dropped to your lips again, and your chest lurched so violently, it almost tipped you forward into him.

“I’m sorry,” You raised your hand to your mouth and shook your head. “I’m sorry, Arn. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He closed his gaping mouth with a snap. When he spoke again, Rimmer’s voice was croaky and unsteady.

“It’s alright.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you like-”

Your stomach lurched again. This time, it was not good news. The hand covering your mouth clamped down.

“Oh, God,” you mumbled.

Rimmer’s expression brightened with understanding.

“Bathroom, now.”

You stumbled to the en suite, tripping over your stupid Captain’s rug on the way. Hands shaking, you gripped the cold cistern and wretched over the toilet.

As you brought up all you’d consumed over the course of the night, you were faintly aware of Rimmer standing over you, his voice soft and steady, reassuring you that everything was okay, that you were going to be alright, that you were doing brilliantly and you’d be in bed before you knew it.

Though you had no memory of it, you must have brushed your teeth after you finished. Mint stung your tongue as you fell onto your bed. Head swimming, you let out a long sigh and pawed at your duvet until it covered your body.

Rimmer was crouching by the head of your bed. You’d never seen him look concerned before. It looked so pretty on him.

“Hi,” you whispered.

Rimmer smiled faintly.

“Hi, Lefty.”

“Mm, I prefer ‘darling’.”

“Maybe on special occasions.”

He raised his hand as if to brush your hair back from your face, but ended up just ghosting it across your cheek instead.

It took some effort but you slipped your hand out from under the duvet and beckoned him closer with the last of your flagging energy.

“Please stay.”

This time, Rimmer didn’t glance towards the door. He didn’t look worried or cornered or confused. He didn’t even hesitate. He just smiled and did as you asked.

“Okay, darling. Budge up.”

Next Chapter

Master List

#arnold rimmer #red dwarf #chris barrie #arnold rimmer imagine #arnold rimmer reader #arnold rimmer smut #arnold rimmer x reader #arnold rimmer x you #arnold rimmer you #red dwarf fic

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paulcales · 1 year

Photo

Summer of Love

Chicago, 1985

In the fall of 1985, my future wife walked through the front door and over my toxic muscularity. Cynthia’s blonde hair, Jane Fonda body, and movie star appeal instantly stole my heart. I was forever hers. Now well into her second life term of marriage with me, Cynthia’s stiff sentence has been classified as an international crime by NATO.

Even the Vatican recently announced they will canonize Cynthia before the Lord takes her home in a golden chariot. A biblical honor reserved for the upper crust of recognized Martyrs, Saints, and accomplished Bodybuilders.

I met Cynthia in a religious hippy commune sitting in a gang-infested neighborhood on the northside of Chicago. The rundown building that housed the single men was missing most of its windows. At night you walked by twos, avoiding certain street corners. Cynthia was a spiritual tourist, a person who dropped in to help others and then split to move on with their lives. I was hiding from myself and Pablo Escobar.

The primary outreach of the commune was to love Jesus and serve the homeless and discarded. Cynthia worked with the poor and elderly, sharing God’s love to those in need. My caveman I.Q. and prideful muscles had me quickly assigned to an outdoor work crew for the safety of other community members.

My backbreaking labor on the construction crews helped pay the bills for distributing God’s charity. As a bonus, it burned off the extra pizza and hot dog calories that taunted us from every street corner of the city.

Back then, Jesus was my Lord, but Arnold Schwarzenegger wanted to be the king of my heart. To fight the muscular action film star, I lifted weights every day to build a more significant temple for the Lord to fill. This argument usually fell on deaf ears except for the new single brothers moving in after years of ingesting drugs or serving hard time in prison.

Every night after work, I lived in the commune’s third-world gym with the other rocket scientists. Mopping five-hundred-degree tar all day in thermonuclear temperatures or pounding nails in the arctic winters was just a warmup for our lengthy iron sessions.

Afterwards while on the hunt for protein and carbs, we would walk through the rundown neighborhood spouting famous action film catchphrases in lame Austrian accents. Occasionally, a homeless person or lone street gang member would answer the proper retort from the movie. We would all break down laughing. Earning each other’s respect, we shook hands, traded names, and became street friends for life.

Believing it was time for Cynthia and me to begin our God-ordained journey to Holy Matrimony, I figured somebody better get the Lord’s will rolling. Hiding in the shadows of the commune’s cluttered kitchen, I looked for the perfect romantic spot to corner her.

Seeing Cynthia walking through the packed dining room wearing a bright green sweater and heavenly smile, I moved into place. She stopped to greet everybody along the way, which was blowing up my perfectly conceived plan. The seconds were ticking away, I began to panic. God’s window was closing.

I followed Cynthia to the large dish rack in a tiny alcove. Striking up a conversation with her, I fumbled through some crazy small talk. Finally, working up the nerve, I asked if she’d like to hang out sometime.

She kindly replied, “It might not be a good idea.” I asked if it was because of the strict relationship rules in the community?

“No, it’s because all the protein in your diet goes to your biceps, leaving very little for your brain.” Winking her eye, then laughing, Cynthia picked a plate from the dish rack. Turning on a dancer’s cue, she melted off into the long dinner line of starving community members.

Taken aback, I wondered how she had gotten her hands on my horrible college entrance exams.

I scanned the busy dining room filled with hungry disciples standing in line for mushroom gravy over butter coated rice. Who had sold me out? Obviously it was somebody jealous of my community bench press record.

Running out of the kitchen, I hightailed it down the dark alley. Lifting in the gym for hours, I tried to soothe the pain of Cynthia’s rejection of God’s will.

Decades later, I realized Cynthia was spot on. My biceps have always been bigger than my brain.

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lizisshortforlizard · 2 years

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Living Dangerously - Chapter 22

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park Novel/Jurassic Park Film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc

Warnings: light swears, relationship breakdown, butt-load of angst

Wordcount: ~65.7k (22 Chapters) [incomplete]

Tagging: @heresthefanfiction @howlingmadlady @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation

Read on Ao3

Chapter 21 | Chapter 23

How’m I Gonna Sleep - Tim Finn

“You’re joking.” Lizzy objected flatly.

”Do I sound like I’m joking?” Muldoon didn't back down.

She shook her head in bewilderment, face like a smacked arse. “Why?”

“Your skills are required. I can’t say any more just yet.”

”I thought you were on my side.”

”And you have a job to do. You’re going. Pack your bags.”

Lizzy didn’t say another word. She turned around and walked straight out of his office before she told him exactly where he could shove that idea. What the Hell was happening?

Richardson might be the one to pull a fast one on her like this, but Muldoon?

She felt betrayed more than anything. She'd thought they were friends. He didn’t even ask her if she’d consider it. Just told her.

Pack your bags.

What exactly had she done wrong?

***

Tom was outside, in front of the still-incomplete visitor centre, doing shirtless pull-ups off a tree branch, all while smoking a cigarette.

“…Seven…c’mon, come to Daddy…eight…Hey, Liz!” He stopped and dangled, sweat dripping off him, when he saw her heading his way. “Betcha can’t do more than three of these!”

No answer. Huh, that was weird. She’d normally leap at the chance to prove him wrong.

”Where ya goin’, lady?”

She kept her head ducked, hurrying along. Tom didn't like that at all. He dropped down from the branch and picked up his shirt, mopping his brow.

“Liz! Talk to me."

Still nothing.

Tom frowned and stubbed his cigarette out, pulling his shirt back on before sprinting after her.

***

“Armstrong, come in Armstrong, over.” Arnold sounded supremely fed up as he tried to reach her. Kathy and Rico were beside him, tracking the weather systems for the next few days and working out how their dinosaur care plans might be affected.

"She isn't in the park." Kathy called to him. "She went to Muldoon's."

"Then why the Hell is she not answering, huh?! Somethin's goin' on, I'm tellin ya!" Arnold threw his radio down and spoke into his phone instead. "No, no, nothing's wrong, buddy. It's a big island, that's all."

Tom's voice drawled over the radio. "Dr Armstrong isn't feeling well, can I take a message?"

"She with you, Kennedy?" Arnold asked grumpily.

There was a break as Tom clearly consulted with someone off-air. "...who wants to know?"

"Her New York man's on the phone. It's important, apparently. Needs to get her butt down here, now. Over and out." Arnold clicked off and yelled to Kathy again. "I told you this tie was a mistake, Kitty-Kat! I am not a messenger boy!"

***

An important call from Simon. Something awful must have happened. He'd only rang her yesterday, when he'd agreed to visit.

Lizzy wasn't sure she could take any more bad news so close together. Sorry she whispered to Ray as she hurried in, he was glaring at her furiously.

“I'm here. Who died?" She asked abruptly as she took the phone.

“Huh? Nobody died, Liz! I just have some good news. Some really great news, in fact. Gonna make your whole month, babe. Couldn't wait until I saw you in person."

“Out with it then!" Maybe a little snappy, she realised.

“Uh, okay, well since I was promoted to partner at the law firm, my folks gave me a bit of money. Rather a lot of money, actually, and Liz-“ Simon paused for effect. “-we’re getting married in a year. A year next Tuesday to be exact. I did it. I booked the Plaza.”

“Oh.” Lizzy didn’t know what to say. “I, uh-…” She should be excited. But dread was rapidly filling her from the toes of her boots upwards.

Kathy, Rico and Ray had stopped conversing and were quietly watching her, sensing something was wrong.

“And my mom’s picked out a dress for you. Isn’t that great?”

What?

She fumbled for whoever’s hand was closest and grabbed it before sinking down in a chair.

“Hermana?” Rico was immediately concerned. “Lizzy?”

Suddenly she was struggling to take a breath. Her chest felt like she was being crushed inwards by a boa constrictor. Kathy stared at her hard for a moment before scurrying off to source a glass of water.

”Liz? Isn’t that great?” Simon repeated.

She didn't really hear him. She was back in Africa. Standing in the pink dawn glow, looking out to the horizon, listening to the waking calls of animals and birds echoing across the plains.

New York was crowded, and cold, and a different kind of noise. The grey kind.

Then she thought of Costa Rica, her new home. African animals replaced by dinosaurs bellowing through the hills. Her job, the job of a lifetime. The countless doors that had opened for her and her research because she was working at Jurassic Park. Simon had never understood why she just couldn’t stop, couldn't give it up, and he would never try to.

It was all so very clear now. Whether he visited or not, they just weren't going to work. They had both changed, no longer two kids in New York City, too different now.

“Uh, hello? Liz? Say something, please.” Now Simon sounded worried.

“You should have asked.” She replied quietly.

“Sorry, the line broke up just then. What did you say?”

She suddenly felt unbearably hot. The control room was so stuffy. Her breathing was shallower, she felt like she couldn't breathe out, only in, and that her ribcage might burst from the pressure.

Lizzy had always wanted a family. A real one. Ten years ago, when she first met Simon she had thought that meant a husband and kids. A Volvo and a house you paid a mortgage on. Picket fences. The American Dream. But her friends on Isla Nublar, Jeff back in Africa, that was her family.

Falling into fits of laughter with Kathy when they tried and failed to toast marshmallows on the stovetop without setting off the fire alarm. Gerry making her coffee just right. Ray's sarcastic comments that always made her laugh no matter her mood. That was home. And Simon wasn't going to ever be part of it.

She couldn't, wouldn't get married. She didn't want it, and nobody was listening to her.

“That’s very generous of them-“ She blinked hard to keep the tears in check. “But I told you, tried to tell you, I don’t want a big wedding.”

“Yeah, but this way you don’t need to worry. It’s taken care of. It’s happening.”

It’s happening. He hadn't even asked her. Africa had never seemed further away. And now Isla Nublar was being ripped from her, twice in the same day.

“Babe...aren’t you excited?”

“Simon!” She started to panic. “There isn’t going to be anyone on my side of the room in New York!”

There was a long pause, and she knew she was in trouble.

“Mom said you’d be like this.” He told her flatly. “You’d find a reason to hate it.”

“I thought we were talking about getting married in Africa-“ She tried to pacify him.

“Well, it isn’t always about what you want, Liz!” Simon was clearly upset. “I’ve waited long enough for you. We need to start having kids, before-“

“Before what?”

“Before you’re too old!”

“What did you just say?” Lizzy raised her voice, and for once, Simon didn't back down.

“You know what I mean! We’re thirty-four, and well…no offence, but time’s running out.”

“What’s happening?” Tom walked into the control room. "You havin' a team party without me? Nice, real nice." Kathy hushed him.

“I can’t do this.” Lizzy couldn’t believe the words were coming out of her mouth.

“What do you mean?” Simon’s tone became negotiating when he finally realised she was genuinely upset. “Look, if it’s that big of a deal to you we can postpone, again-“

“No, we can’t.”

“It’s fine. Maybe the year after next.”

It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine.

“No. I can't do this. I don’t want to get married. To you…I don’t want to get married to you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She didn't deny.

“Lizzy? Tell me you don’t mean it.”

“I can’t-“ Lizzy gulped and crushed the life out of Rico’s hand. “I don’t want to anymore. You and me. I’m so sorry-“

The disconnect tone sounded. He had hung up.

She slowly put the phone down herself, and realised what she’d done. Regret, pain, and most worrying of all, relief, filled her to the brim.

Arnold spoke first. "Baby girl, I'm so sor-"

Lizzy held up a hand. She wanted quiet. Her mind was going off the rails.

"Shit..." Tom wasn't much help.

Kathy pushed the glass of water towards her. "What do you need?"

"Si, hermana. Anything."

Lizzy got up from her chair and took off. She didn’t know where she was going, just that there were too many people staring at her and it was too much for her to stand. She ran out into the park.

***

”Lizzy, hun!” Kathy screamed into the trees. She was getting desperate. It had been hours. The sun was sinking low, Lizzy wouldn’t stay out all night…would she?

Damn, but the island was a lot safer than the middle of the Namibian bush. It was still warm enough to sleep out. Lizzy was sure as Heck stubborn.

But accidents happen. She might have tripped and broken her ankle, and be lying unconscious at the bottom of a valley.

“Where are you, girl?” She whispered. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Want me to round up the guys for a search party?” Isaac asked her. “We could check the motion sensors too?”

“Worth a shot, but she might not be moving. Cameras won’t pick her up.” Kathy groaned.

“Well then, what do we do?”

“We don’t need a search party.” Kathy turned to walk back towards the lodge. “Unless it's a party of one."

***

Kathy made a shooing motion and nodded towards the door. "Go on, get out there. Do what you do best. Go hunt."

"It's a bit more complicated than that. And why wasn't I informed before now?" Muldoon asked gravely. "Have you been making decisions again, Baker?"

"Tom told me what happened. Between you and Lizzy. That she didn't take the idea of moving to Sorna very well." Kathy answered quietly.

"She did not." Massive understatement. Although at least he wasn't the main reason she'd done a runner. In a rather interesting development, Armstrong was no longer engaged. Which meant that his plan for Sorna had gone awry. But Muldoon couldn't worry about that yet. At this moment in time, she was a missing person. His priority was to retrieve her, and quickly.

"Well, she's not back, it's dark and we're out of options. Can you find her or what?" Kathy demanded.

"Almost certainly. She won’t get very far, at least." Muldoon grumbled as he headed to the door.

"Need some help, boss?" Tom offered.

"Hunted more vicious things than her, I'll be fine." Muldoon answered. "Maybe I should take a shock prod though, what do you reckon?"

Kathy just stared at him, open-mouthed. Even Tom looked stunned.

"I was joking." He muttered. "Christ, that bloody woman."

***

Think like Armstrong.

Damn, now that was a scary notion.

At least they were on an island. Even so, thirty square miles was a massive search area. He had to narrow it down.

So, let’s go about this logically. If he knew her, which he did of course, then this disappearing act was her way of saying she needed help. She just didn’t know how to ask, and she hated appearing weak in front of the lads.

Meaning, she wanted someone to come and get her, bring her back. She had to know it would most likely be him, since he was the only person on the island that could track worth a damn, except for Kennedy, perhaps.

So where would Armstrong go, that only he might think of?

Muldoon braked hard and put the Jeep in reverse, going back on himself to take the other turning that led towards the tyrannosaur paddock.

Of course that’s where she is.

He was certain she would be perched on the very same tree she’d riddled with bullets not long ago. A place not obvious to just anyone.

Fortunately, Muldoon wasn’t just anyone.

He chose to kill the ignition and stalk the last few hundred metres. Headlights and engine noise might scare her off, if she thought she was in trouble.

Muldoon was actually enjoying himself. Out in the park alone, at night, was a rare opportunity. Good to know he hadn’t lost his touch. It had been a long while, since he had needed to hunt for…anything, really. And this time, he had no weapon.

Because he was hunting for a wildcat. He found the clearing where the fallen tree was, without much difficulty.

”I know you’re here, Armstrong.”

He hadn’t heard her, yet. Just a feeling. That from somewhere close by, he was being watched. And his feelings, instincts, call it what you will, were very rarely wrong.

“Hurry up and say something, woman, before I trip over you.” No girl this time. He did value his life, somewhat.

If he remembered correctly the tree was off to the left, in the direction of where the tyrannosaur was rumbling around in her paddock.

Muldoon reached for his torch and scanned the ground in front of him.

Ah, there it was. He had been right all along. Boot prints tracked away from him through the mud. Looked about a size seven US. Yes, she was definitely here, definitely wanted someone to come and get her. She knew better than to wear her distinctively small boots in boggy ground if she was trying to hide from him. The prints were partially filled with water, and the surface wobbled every few seconds. Rexy was on the move.

“Over here.” A small Scottish voice finally spoke up. “How’d you know?”

Muldoon pointed the torch in the right direction. Sure enough, hazel eyes were staring back at him in the beam of light.

“Because I know you, daft bugger.” He went to sit down next to her on the tree trunk. “Can’t hide from me.”

They were silent for a few minutes, until his radio hissed, earning a quick grunt from the startled tyrannosaur.

“-uldoon, give me some good news. Can’t see you on the monitor anymore, over.” Arnold complained.

“Found her.”

”Oh! Oh thank God- Is she-“ Kathy started babbling away until Muldoon answered she’s fine curtly and switched his radio off. They could wait.

”I had to leave, it was all a bit much.” Her voice was hoarse. She’d been crying. “Just needed some space.”

“Nobody can hear you scream out here. Except the tyrannosaur.”

”That was kind of the point.” She let her head flop back, staring up at the stars.

“Still a bloody stupid thing to do. Running off like that.”

Away from her problems, yet again.

”You must be fuming.” She stated unhappily.

“Baker’s the one who’ll crucify you when we get back.”

Just glad you’re safe. He thought the words but didn’t say them. “Did you ever pull a stunt like this with Blacklaw?” Distracting her was a good move.

“No, but he grounded me once.”

Muldoon turned his laugh into a cough. The thought of his mate attempting to ground an unrelated woman in her twenties who wasn’t much shorter than him was quite funny.

“What on Earth did you do?”

“I called Sarah Harding a c-, er…the c-word. To her face.” Lizzy grimaced. “Apparently it’s much more offensive in the States.”

“Practically a friendly greeting, back in Glasgow, I’d imagine.”

”That’s what I said!” Lizzy groaned. "Thought she was going to bloody bite me."

"Wouldn't put it past her."

"At least I won't run into her anymore if she comes to visit Gerry, since I’m meant to be packing, I suppose.”

Muldoon shifted uncomfortably. Ah, Sorna. Now he had his wits back about him, maybe he had been too hasty about sending Armstrong away. He’d acted out of spite, hadn’t asked, just told her.

”Don’t worry about Sorna at the moment.” He said eventually. “We’ll talk about it properly in the morning. When we’re both more rational.”

”Really? Do I get some input this time?” That seemed to cheer her up a little.

”You can plead your case.”

She sniffed loudly and nodded.

“Shall I give you a lift back?” It was more of a threat than a question.

There was the faintest scuff of gravel as she planted her feet further apart. Was she really about to give him the runaround?

Oh no, he wasn’t having that.

“Careful. If you think I won’t drag you back inside that Jeep just to get Baker off my case, think again.”

She was silent, the cogs were turning. Trying to figure out if she was faster than him. In the dark. Without her glasses.

Not a chance he thought.

Was she going to bolt? Or just feeling well enough now to wind him up about attempting it?

He liked either choice, to be honest. Both meant she’d forgiven him.

“Don’t do it, Armstrong.” He warned. “Don’t you dare run.”

I’d catch you. And it would make my day.

She turned to him with a tiny smile. “Yeah, okay, you win. Let’s head back.”

***

On the journey back, Lizzy took off her engagement ring. She rolled the Jeep window down, looked out at the jungle, down at the band, debating, then rolled the window back up again, still with the ring in the palm of her hand.

”Say you lost it. Believable enough.” Muldoon offered. He’d seen the state of her bedroom.

”Better not. It was his great-grandma’s. Survived a concentration camp. Makes me a complete arsehole.” Lizzy decided. “I’ll send it back.”

”Shame, that rock would probably put my daughter through university.”

”How is she?” Lizzy was grateful for the change in subject.

”Thoroughly enjoying being the class elephant expert, thanks to you.”

She nodded, pleased. She’d spent ages on that book. Good to know her efforts were appreciated.

Lizzy felt guilty now that Muldoon had gone to all this trouble for her. She would've come back of her own accord, eventually.

She didn't remember running from the control room, or even what direction she went in once she left the building. Only that she somehow reached the tyrannosaur paddock at twilight just as the quartz lights were coming on, all over the park. Her favourite time of day.

It had seemed a good place to stop. Not too far from home, but quiet, where she wouldn't be disturbed. She'd found the fallen tree and sat for a long time as the darkness drew in around the island, listening to the bugs buzzing around and the stegosaurs lowing like cattle as they gathered together for the night.

And then Muldoon had found her. Lizzy surprised herself with how glad she was to hear his voice in the darkness, despite their falling-out.

She was even more relieved, yet surprised he didn’t have Kathy in tow, the renowned over-thinker. Lizzy didn’t want to analyse every detail of her break-up right at that minute. Maybe never.

What did it matter? It was over now.

Muldoon put the Jeep in neutral and idled out of view of the visitor complex for a minute, turning to speak to her. “I can drive you around the other side, if you’d rather. Sneak you in through the garage. You don’t have to face everyone just yet.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. Can’t avoid them forever.”

He nodded and they moved off again. Kathy was waiting for them on the steps at the sound of the engine in the distance, hopping from one foot to the other, trying to see if there were two people inside the Jeep.

As they drew up Lizzy spoke again.

”Thank you.”

”For what, exactly?”

”Just for knowing."

He had a feeling she didn’t mean how he'd worked out exactly where to find her. Lizzy got out of the Jeep and walked straight into Kathy's arms, holding her tightly in a hug long after the vehicle moved off again.

Muldoon ended up sitting in the parked Jeep by himself for a while, doing some thinking of his own in the garage.

Armstrong was single. It hadn't really sunk in yet.

Since she’d floored Richardson with that technical question within the first hour of her first day, he’d fancied her something terrible. And it was only getting worse the more time they spent together.

Simply put, she was brilliant. And she wasn't the only one who wanted a challenge.

But in a way, this was worse, much worse. Before, she was completely off-limits, for obvious reasons.

Now there was hope, but Muldoon's hopes had been dashed before. He wasn’t sure if he could take much more of it.

***

Thanks for reading!

The chapter title song is one that Tim Finn wrote just before he and Greta Scacchi split up in 1989. Greta in the 90s is my faceclaim for Lizzy. The song seemed fitting for this one 🖤

And Lizzy and Simon are through. A comfortable relationship isn’t always a happy one, unfortunately.

#jurassic park oc #living dangerously #welcome to jurassic park #oc: dr lizzy armstrong #jurassic park female oc #jurassic park #jurassic park fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

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the-firebird69 · 2 months

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The empire needs electric vehicles tons of them they need vehicles that are built to be used by it and they need them down there and they need them now and the first reaction of Ben Arnold is no we won't make them the second is I think we should because our army will have to do something and they'll see it and that's the right reaction it's going on now and it started up other stuff and they get it

Secondly he has an announcement to make and it might be major

Thor Freya

It might be but it really is

Do you have other announcements to make too we do dang it

Mop

Olympus

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ducknotinarow · 1 year

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[87 - i may not have written the kiss, but casey won't stop him uwu]

Alright, first date. Actual first date since, what, high school? Yikes, Casey did not get out much. He tried not to dwell on it, because now, well, he did have a date. A date with his boyfriend, who was also a Turtle. Yeah, it's best not to think about it, nor think about the effort he went through. The mess of black he called hair was tamed, brushed and straightened; he'd even tied it into a low ponytail. The ruined and worn out clothes were swapped for something far neater; button up shirt and even a tie. It was stiff and slightly uncomfortable, but he wanted this to be good. Really, the only thing he didn't do, was remove his mask.

He had his reasons not too.

The beach was their destination, the pair tucked away where no eyes could ever find them. It was dark, stars decorated the horizon. It was perfect. Casey sat next to Raphael, quiet, it seemed he was thinking - that was a surprise. Casey didn't tend to do that. He's looking Raphael's way though, listening to every word until they too disappear. Now they're staring at each each other, and when Casey see's Raph's hand lifts, and gently touched his mask, Casey can't help but reach up and grab their wrist.

Not because Raph had gone too far. No...no he hadn't gone far enough. Casey loved Raph, he had told him as such. Instead, Casey moved Raphael's hand further back, forcing it behind his head, resting their fingers on the straps off his mask,

"Unclip it," He tells them in that gruff voice he's known for, "I...I trust you to take it off."

And it's there Casey leaves Raph's hand there, simply waiting for the Terrapin to remove said mask, if he wished to do so.

| Muse Interaction

Casey was a sight to behold Raph's green eyes were blown wide, his heart was beating fast within his chest, and his breath hitched when he met up with Casey. Pressed and preen button up shirt, tie around their neck. But unlike the last time he got to see Casey dressed to the nines that rat nest tangled up mass of mop, that was Casey's hair had been strengthen out and combed back into a low ponytail. Raphael always did say that a well dress guy slayed him. Well Casey killed him from the look alone. His face felt like it was burning against his skin and he needed to shake his head visibly to finally knock some sense into himself. He's sort of glad they kept that mask on.

Sure Raph knew Casey was very protective of his personal stuff, his private life was well kept private. And it did sort of make the turtle grow more curious about the smallest details about them. So sometimes he did some dumb stuff or made remarks he might never get to take back. What he knew was nothing more than breadcrumbs at best. Casey name was Arnold. Casey's eyes were different, one as brown as the sand on the beach the other as deeply blue as the ocean. That was about all that he knew when it came to this mystery he was dating now. Well add Casey cleans up good to it too. IN part Raph could respect that Casey just was going to likely keep these walls up between them. Casey had his reasons right? Right.

Raph could focus on what he did know about Casey instead. They were crazy, and dangerous. Eh he could tell Casey was trying to do something good at the same time. You couldn't trust everything to the cops. Sure Casey was a whack job but there was a reason for why he was so driven. Maybe that was the attraction what drives Casey to do what he dose.

"Ya know sometimes I think I shaould'a been born a sea turtle or somethin' least I think they are called? turtles too? Donatello would know better" Raph idly remarks as Raph and Casey made their way to a more secluded spot on the beach. Well if Don was talking to him that is, lately he couldn't tell what was up with his twin. He wasn't gonna bring that drama with him now leave it at home so he can enjoy his date. Raph didn't need anymore more than this himself. The scent of the ocean, as the breeze brought a mist over his skin. The sky above them was dark and the stars were bright. Ocean waves filled his ears and he could feel the water brush over his feet having picked to walk by the ocean. He liked feeling the vibrations of the water sweeping over him. Sometimes able to tell if something was going to sweep up.

Casey didn't talk much Raph normally had to carry the conversation himself. Not that he minded Casey was a quite guy after all, just didn't have much to share he guessed.

Raph could focus on what he did know about Casey instead. They were crazy and dangerous. Eh, he could tell Casey was trying to do something good at the same time. You couldn't trust everything to the cops. Sure, Casey was a whack job, but there was a reason for why he was so driven. Maybe that was the attraction that drives Casey to do what he does. Well, and they were gorgeous, especially under the mask.

And now he's staring at his boyfriend, not the beach or even the stars. Taking them in just letting what ever thought that wasn't immediately about Casey slip out his beak. He never often knew what to talk about, so he would just randomly tell Casey anything, mostly any adventures his brothers and he got tangled up in.

Because well, in Part of dating Casey, rapheal wanted to know more about them he could maybe count what he knew on a single hand. Thar was even less impressive, considering Raph only had three fingers. They didn't stop the instant connection between them, but it did leave him to wonder about them. A lot at that.

Casey Jones was a mystery he wanted answered. The biggest was their confession. Raph simply said he liked them romanticly deep down he felt it could be more. Casey? He said he loved Raph. Hiw did Casey know that for sure? Raph ahdnt said it yet it hadnt seem to come up either. It ate at Raph though hiw long till your meant to say that? When do you know?

And now Casey was staring back at Raph who had been staring for who knows how long now.

"Heh sorry, got distracted there. Not used ta ya getting all done up is all. Figure I should take it in all I can right?" Raph idly commented on. "Not that you don't always look nice though you do always look good it just heh ya know didferent?"

Raph reached out to simply touch Casey's mask. It was a old trace of that turtle part of him. Displaying he simply found Casey attractive but he didn't always relieze hr was doing it. Easy to noticed when Casey grab him.

"Too much?" Was all Raph asked he was still learning what Casey's limits and boundaries were. Some he pushed for fun. Others? He would respect.

Ready to pull away his hand only for Casey to tug his hand forward, guiding Raphs hand, actually. To the back of their mask?

"Unclip it,"

Raph eyes widen at the request. Yeah, Casey took his mask off before around him. but he's talking about a guy who got bashful from holding hands so yeah there was hesitation on Raohael's end here.

"You sure?" Asking, if Casey said no he wouldn't push the matter he wanted to build that trust with them. So they let him closer.

"I...I trust you to take it off."

"Oh" sometimes it was like Casey understood where Raphs own mind was at. "Okay." Was all Raph could think to say as he slowly stood up to better reach the clip on the back lifting his left hand as well so he could Undo the straps of Casey's mask.

He felt them fall as they lossened and reached to grab one side if the mask. If Casey changed his mind Raph went anf moved slowly when pulling thier mask back. Freeing it from thier face finally letting out the breath he didn't even know he was holding once he got the fist glimpse of brown and blue. Raoh swallowed thickly. As his face burned once more getting to fully see Casey now. His heart thumping in his shell as if it might break free any second.

Raph gently set Casey's mask down to the side before he reached out again and carefully took hold of thier face. Fingers idly tapped against the sides of thier face. Now Raph turly wanted to memorize eveb inch of Casey looking as they did.

"Damn you slay me Casey Jones." Raph remarks before he lean in letting his eyes close just before his beak found thier lips. Soft and gentle taking it slow. The feeling of thier lips burned against his beak as he lingered like this as long as he could before pulling away.

Well he could add a count to the second hand now. Casey was his first kiss, and Casey trusted him. "I don't think anyone can hold a match ta ya anymore." Was all Raph said smiling at them as he screamed at himself for how stupid that sounded.

#muse| hamato rapheal #madamkezzie #aflockoffeathers #[ if you jump off a bridge its only cause i did first aflockoffeathers]#[87 verse]#muse interacction #stayed qeued #((first kisses uwu smooch smooch uwu))

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brookston · 2 years

Text

Holidays 10.9

Holidays

Abolition Day (Saint Barthelemy)

Community Day (Spain)

Curious Events Day

Day of National Honor (a.k.a. Day of Dignity; Peru)

Fire Prevention Day (Canada, US)

Fungus Day

Give Peace a Chance Day

Hangul Day (a.k.a. Korean Alphabet Day; South Korea)

Indian Foreign Service Day

Instant Karma Day

Leif Erikson Day (Iceland, Norway; Minnesota, Wisconsin)

Magic Lantern Day

Messenger Appreciation Day

Mop Fair (Tewkesbury, England)

National Chess Day (Original Date)

National Day Commemorating the Holocaust (a.k.a. Ziua Nationala de Comemorare a Holocaustului; Romania)

National Digitool Day

National Nanotechnology Day

National Sneakers Day

Nautilus Night

Pans/Pandas Awareness Day

Region of Valencia Day (Spain)

Samitinget Establishment Day (Norway)

Scrubs Day

Strawberry Fields Day

Tavistock Goose Fair (Devon, England)

Valencian Community Day (Valencia, Spain)

World Post Day (UN)

Food & Drink Celebrations

Beer and Pizza Day

International Beer and Pizza Day

Cupcakes For Life Day

Moldy Cheese Day

Submarine-Hoagie-Hero-Grinder Day

Yukon Gold Potato Day

2nd Sunday in October

Bokbierdag (National Bock Beer Day; The Netherlands) [ website ] [2nd Sunday]

Clergy Appreciation Day (a.k.a. Pastor Appreciation Day or Ministry Appreciation Day) [2nd Sunday]

Drink Local Wine Week begins [2nd Sunday]

Good Thief Sunday [2nd Sunday]

Grandmother's Day (Florida) [2nd Sunday]

Shojo Festival (Narumi Hachimangu, Nagoya, Japan) [2nd Sunday]

White Sunday (American & Western Samoa) [2nd Sunday]

Independence Days

Guayaquil Independence Day (Ecuador)

Uganda (from UK, 1962)

Feast Days

Abraham the Patriarch (Christian; Saint)

Atilla the Hun Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

The Count (Muppetism)

Denis (Christian; Saint)

Dionysius the Areopagite (Christian; Saint)

Domninus (Christian; Saint)

Felicitas (Old Roman Goddess of Good Luck & Joy)

Festival for Venus (Ancient Rome)

Full Moon [10th of the Year] (a.k.a. ...

Blackberry Moon (Choctaw)

Blood Moon (England, Neo-Pagan, Wicca)

Boun Ok Phansa (Laos; end of Buddhist Lent)

Dying Moon (Alternate)

Freezing Moon (Traditional)

Harvest Moon (Amer. Indian, Celtic, Cherokee, North America)

Hunter’s Moon (Amer. Indian, Colonial , Traditional)

Ice Moon (Traditional)

Kindly Moon (China)

Kojagrat Purnima (Nepal)

Migrating Moon (Traditional)

Seed Moon (South Africa)

Southern Hemisphere: Egg, Fish, Pink, Seed, Waking

Thadingyut Full Moon (Myanmar)

Travel Moon (Alternate)

Vap Full Moon Poya Day (Sri Lanka)

Ghislain (a.k.a. Guislain; Christian; Saint)

Innocencio of Mary Immaculate and Martyrs of Asturias (Christian; Saint)

John Henry Newman (Christian; Saint)

John Leonardi

Knot Day (Pastafarian)

Luis Beltran (a.k.a. Lewis Bertrand; Christian; Saint)

Robert Grosseteste (Church of England)

Roger Bacon (Positivist; Saint)

Takayama Autumn Festival begins (Japan)

Wilfred Grenfell (Episcopal Church (USA))

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Unfortunate Day (Pagan) [47 of 57]

Premieres

Babe, by Styx (Song; 1979)

Couples Retreat (Film; 2009)

Dance Dance Dance,, recorded by The Beach Boys (Song; 1964)

The Iceman Cometh, by Eugene O’Neill (Play; 1946)

Little Big Man, by Thomas Berger (Novel; 1964)

Little Einsteins (Animated TV Series; 2005)

Mogambo (Film; 1953)

Phantom of the Opera (Broadway Musical; 1986)

Thomas & Friends (Animated UK TV Series; 1984)

Timewasters (BBC TV Series; 2017)

Today’s Name Days

Dionysius (Austria)

Abraham, Dionizije, Sara (Croatia)

Sára, Štefan (Czech Republic)

Dionysius (Denmark)

Mariina, Riin, Riina, Riine (Estonia)

Ilona (Finland)

Denis (France)

Doings, Elfriede, Günter, Sara, Sibylle (Germany)

Avraam, Lot (Greece)

Dénes (Hungary)

Abramo, Dionigi, Ferruccio, Lorenzo, Sara (Italy)

Elga, Elgars, Helga (Latvia)

Dionizas, Virgailė (Lithuania)

Leidulf, Leif (Norway)

Arnold, Arnolf, Atanazja, Bogdan, Dionizjusz, Dionizy, Jan, Ludwik, Przedpełk (Poland)

Dionýz (Slovakia)

Abraham, Abrahán, Dionisio, Héctor, Juan, Luis, Sara (Spain)

Inger, Ingrid (Sweden)

Rebecca (Ukraine)

Denice, Denis, Denise, Dennis, Denny, Dion, Gunnar, Gunther, Leif (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 282 of 2022; 83 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 7 of week 40 of 2022

Celtic Tree Calendar: Gort (Ivy) [Day 9 of 28]

Chinese: Month 9 (Júyuè), Day 14 (Yi-Wei)

Chinese Year of the: Tiger (until January 22, 2023)

Hebrew: 14 Tishri 5783

Islamic: 13 Rabi I 1444

J Cal: 12 Shù; Fourssday [12 of 30]

Julian: 26 September 2022

Moon: 100%: Full Moon

Positivist: 2 Descartes (11th Month) [Roger Bacon]

Runic Half Month: Gyfu (Gift) [Day 14 of 15]

Season: Autumn (Day 17 of 90)

Zodiac: Libra (Day 15 of 30)

#calendar #Holidays

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brookstonalmanac · 2 years

Text

Holidays 10.9

Holidays

Abolition Day (Saint Barthelemy)

Community Day (Spain)

Curious Events Day

Day of National Honor (a.k.a. Day of Dignity; Peru)

Fire Prevention Day (Canada, US)

Fungus Day

Give Peace a Chance Day

Hangul Day (a.k.a. Korean Alphabet Day; South Korea)

Indian Foreign Service Day

Instant Karma Day

Leif Erikson Day (Iceland, Norway; Minnesota, Wisconsin)

Magic Lantern Day

Messenger Appreciation Day

Mop Fair (Tewkesbury, England)

National Chess Day (Original Date)

National Day Commemorating the Holocaust (a.k.a. Ziua Nationala de Comemorare a Holocaustului; Romania)

National Digitool Day

National Nanotechnology Day

National Sneakers Day

Nautilus Night

Pans/Pandas Awareness Day

Region of Valencia Day (Spain)

Samitinget Establishment Day (Norway)

Scrubs Day

Strawberry Fields Day

Tavistock Goose Fair (Devon, England)

Valencian Community Day (Valencia, Spain)

World Post Day (UN)

Food & Drink Celebrations

Beer and Pizza Day

International Beer and Pizza Day

Cupcakes For Life Day

Moldy Cheese Day

Submarine-Hoagie-Hero-Grinder Day

Yukon Gold Potato Day

2nd Sunday in October

Bokbierdag (National Bock Beer Day; The Netherlands) [ website ] [2nd Sunday]

Clergy Appreciation Day (a.k.a. Pastor Appreciation Day or Ministry Appreciation Day) [2nd Sunday]

Drink Local Wine Week begins [2nd Sunday]

Good Thief Sunday [2nd Sunday]

Grandmother's Day (Florida) [2nd Sunday]

Shojo Festival (Narumi Hachimangu, Nagoya, Japan) [2nd Sunday]

White Sunday (American & Western Samoa) [2nd Sunday]

Independence Days

Guayaquil Independence Day (Ecuador)

Uganda (from UK, 1962)

Feast Days

Abraham the Patriarch (Christian; Saint)

Atilla the Hun Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

The Count (Muppetism)

Denis (Christian; Saint)

Dionysius the Areopagite (Christian; Saint)

Domninus (Christian; Saint)

Felicitas (Old Roman Goddess of Good Luck & Joy)

Festival for Venus (Ancient Rome)

Full Moon [10th of the Year] (a.k.a. ...

Blackberry Moon (Choctaw)

Blood Moon (England, Neo-Pagan, Wicca)

Boun Ok Phansa (Laos; end of Buddhist Lent)

Dying Moon (Alternate)

Freezing Moon (Traditional)

Harvest Moon (Amer. Indian, Celtic, Cherokee, North America)

Hunter’s Moon (Amer. Indian, Colonial , Traditional)

Ice Moon (Traditional)

Kindly Moon (China)

Kojagrat Purnima (Nepal)

Migrating Moon (Traditional)

Seed Moon (South Africa)

Southern Hemisphere: Egg, Fish, Pink, Seed, Waking

Thadingyut Full Moon (Myanmar)

Travel Moon (Alternate)

Vap Full Moon Poya Day (Sri Lanka)

Ghislain (a.k.a. Guislain; Christian; Saint)

Innocencio of Mary Immaculate and Martyrs of Asturias (Christian; Saint)

John Henry Newman (Christian; Saint)

John Leonardi

Knot Day (Pastafarian)

Luis Beltran (a.k.a. Lewis Bertrand; Christian; Saint)

Robert Grosseteste (Church of England)

Roger Bacon (Positivist; Saint)

Takayama Autumn Festival begins (Japan)

Wilfred Grenfell (Episcopal Church (USA))

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Unfortunate Day (Pagan) [47 of 57]

Premieres

Babe, by Styx (Song; 1979)

Couples Retreat (Film; 2009)

Dance Dance Dance,, recorded by The Beach Boys (Song; 1964)

The Iceman Cometh, by Eugene O’Neill (Play; 1946)

Little Big Man, by Thomas Berger (Novel; 1964)

Little Einsteins (Animated TV Series; 2005)

Mogambo (Film; 1953)

Phantom of the Opera (Broadway Musical; 1986)

Thomas & Friends (Animated UK TV Series; 1984)

Timewasters (BBC TV Series; 2017)

Today’s Name Days

Dionysius (Austria)

Abraham, Dionizije, Sara (Croatia)

Sára, Štefan (Czech Republic)

Dionysius (Denmark)

Mariina, Riin, Riina, Riine (Estonia)

Ilona (Finland)

Denis (France)

Doings, Elfriede, Günter, Sara, Sibylle (Germany)

Avraam, Lot (Greece)

Dénes (Hungary)

Abramo, Dionigi, Ferruccio, Lorenzo, Sara (Italy)

Elga, Elgars, Helga (Latvia)

Dionizas, Virgailė (Lithuania)

Leidulf, Leif (Norway)

Arnold, Arnolf, Atanazja, Bogdan, Dionizjusz, Dionizy, Jan, Ludwik, Przedpełk (Poland)

Dionýz (Slovakia)

Abraham, Abrahán, Dionisio, Héctor, Juan, Luis, Sara (Spain)

Inger, Ingrid (Sweden)

Rebecca (Ukraine)

Denice, Denis, Denise, Dennis, Denny, Dion, Gunnar, Gunther, Leif (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 282 of 2022; 83 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 7 of week 40 of 2022

Celtic Tree Calendar: Gort (Ivy) [Day 9 of 28]

Chinese: Month 9 (Júyuè), Day 14 (Yi-Wei)

Chinese Year of the: Tiger (until January 22, 2023)

Hebrew: 14 Tishri 5783

Islamic: 13 Rabi I 1444

J Cal: 12 Shù; Fourssday [12 of 30]

Julian: 26 September 2022

Moon: 100%: Full Moon

Positivist: 2 Descartes (11th Month) [Roger Bacon]

Runic Half Month: Gyfu (Gift) [Day 14 of 15]

Season: Autumn (Day 17 of 90)

Zodiac: Libra (Day 15 of 30)

#Holidays

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ask-steampunk-america · 2 years

Text

// No posts this week; take this doodle of a tiny Arnold with ???.

#ask steampunk america #hetalia #steampunk #au #hws america #mystery character #syudou released a new song and i had to draw this #??? has his face censored since he's an important character to be revealed later #tiny arnold with large mop

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thegreenmeridian · 3 years

Text

This roomba is the best fucking thing I have ever spent money on. Endless entertainment watching her go about doing her thing. The wee mop robot is great too but he’s not got any smart features and just kinda bounces into shit at random. The roomba slows down as she approaches things and seems to plan her route. And she makes a happy little noise when she returns to her charging station.

#her name is Sally #the mop robot is called Arnold #thank you German eBay for my cheap roomba #really need to glue googly eyes on her this week

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cantseemtohide · 3 years

Text

I like to think Mary attacked Dr Arnold's fancy shoes with the mop deliberately 👍

#the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 nocc #ts4 vanilla #mary guerra #dr arnold hamelin #preeminent diner #magnolia promenade

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secondtechnicianrimmer · 3 months

Text

Space Corp. Directive #1215225

For some ungodly reason, you fancy the second technician, but you’d be damned if you ever admitted it.

Pairing: Arnold Rimmer x (F) Reader

Warnings: smut

Chapter One: Dreams

The night was black and cold. Nothing new there. But for some reason, your bed felt different. Warmer. Less empty than usual.

Then hands slipped between your thighs and spread them. But you weren’t afraid. Somehow, you knew who was touching you, even if for some reason, you couldn’t really register it right now.

The hands pressed down until the sides of your legs were almost touching the mattress, then you felt whoever it was press their mouth to your soft skin, and kiss their way across the insides of your thighs like they’d been there before and knew the place like the back of their hand. That was to say, they knew exactly where to kiss, where to drag their tongue, where to nip with their teeth.

Soon you were moaning softly, your hands bunching up the covers as they drifted lower and lower until finally, they reached exactly where you needed them.

A deep moan rolled through you, echoed by whoever was between your thighs. That’s when it hit you, like a hammer striking a bell. That voice, it was so familiar it made your skin come up in goosebumps. Then they looked up, meeting your gaze with a devilish yet lopsided smile. Rimmer. It was Rimmer.

His lips were shining in the low light; you were dripping down his chin, down the column of his neck to his bare chest. He looked half-drunk with pleasure as he shot you a grin, then Rimmer bent his head and dragged his tongue over you, moaning your own name against you.

You woke so abruptly, you weren’t sure where you were for a moment. You sat up, adrenaline flooding through you, and promptly smacked your head against the empty bunk above you.

Heart pounding in your chest, you stared at the blank grey wall beside you as you rubbed your head and filled your lungs with the cold, recycled air.

It took you several moments to remember what it was that had awoken you so suddenly, then flashes of your dream whooshed through your mind, the sight of Rimmer with his face buried between your thighs, his moans rolling through you, his long fingers pressing into your skin as he ate you out like he needed it to survive.

You shook your head, your eyes squeezing shut as you pushed the thought away. You’d had many lows in your life, being stuck aboard a rust bucket in deep space with four sort-of men being one of them, but this was a new depth.

“What the fuck.”

Later that day, you somehow found yourself helping Kryten clean the corridors of C Deck. It wasn’t like you had a lot else to do, and the mechanoid was amusing in his own way.

You sat on top of his cleaning trolley, passing him anything he needed, a mop, a duster, or a sharp-smelling acidic cream he used often. The only thing that could lift the stains left by Mr. Lister’ he’d said.

“Kryten?” you asked, although you hated yourself for even entertaining your own stupid curiosity. “Do you know much about dreams?”

Kryten’s head twitched about on his neck, the way it always did when he was thinking.

“Human dreams? Not really, ma’am. Why do you ask?”

You shrugged.

“Oh, just curious.”

“Well, I know that dreams happen when someone is in a state of deep sleep, and many cultures have tried to determine why indeed lifeforms need to do it. Some say it’s simply the brain’s way of filtering and filing away all it has processed that day. But as dreams are often highly emotive, some argue it’s the mind’s way of expressing one’s unconscious desires and wishes.”

Desires and wishes. You pulled a face. You didn’t wish for Rimmer to do anything, and you certainly didn’t desire anything about him. He was a twat, a hologram, a cowardly idiot who you happened to get on with sometimes.

“So either they mean nothing or… Everything,” you summarised.

“Precisely, ma’am.” Kryten made what could be interpreted as an apologetic expression. “I did say I knew very little about it.”

Hoping the mechanoid wouldn’t notice your embarrassment, you asked,

“Do you know if it means anything if you dream about a specific person?”

“It probably means you’ve been thinking about them a lot. They have entered your subconscious.”

You huffed.

“That can’t be right.”

“Why, madam? Who did you dream about?”

“I didn’t say I did!”

“Forgive me, you just seemed to have someone in mind.”

You eyed Kryten warily.

“Can mechanoids keep secrets?”

“We can try. I am programmed to take care of you, ma’am. I suppose that falls under the umbrella.”

“Rimmer.”

“What about him?”

“That’s who I dreamt about.”

“Oh.”

The corridor was suddenly very quiet.

You almost laughed. You’d never seen an android look shocked almost to the point of disappointment before.

“Problem?”

“My apologies.” Kryten did his version of a laugh. “Get to you, did he? He rattles on about so much useless flim-flam, I’m surprised I don’t dream about him too.”

“It wasn’t like that. It was… A good dream.”

“A good dream about Mr. Rimmer, ma’am?”

Cheeks burning, you closed your eyes before admitting,

“It was kind of a sexy dream.”

If Kryten could blush, you were sure he’d be red as a tomato. You still hadn’t opened your eyes so it could be a possibility. Stranger things had happened on Red Dwarf. Like you having a sex dream about the idiot second technician who irritated you at least seven times a day.

“Oh, my.” Kryten was so shocked, he stopped dusting. “About Mr. Rimmer?”

“Yes! Is that so hard to believe?”

“Humans are fascinating. Well, I suppose you do spend a lot of time together.”

“I spend a lot of time with all of you. There’s not a lot of places to go.”

“You’re right, ma’am. I just meant, if Mr. Rimmer needs help with something, it’s usually you he asks. If you’re bored and want to play some kind of game or planet hop, it’s usually Mr. Rimmer you ask to go with you.”

You pulled a face. You supposed that was true. It was complicated. As much as he annoyed you and tried to boss you around, Rimmer was always your first choice and he was yours. Something neither of you were at all used to.

“You promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“I cross my metal heart.”

That made you smile. Sometimes, these men you called friends really were sweet. Well, perhaps ‘sweet’ was a strong word. As was ‘men.’

“What do you think it means, Kryten?”

“Probably nothing, ma’am. I wouldn’t worry about it. From what I know about the human subconscious, you have no control over your dreams and so have absolutely no reason to feel embarrassed or disgusted or like you need to poke out your own eyeballs.”

You shot the mechanoid a dark look but he was too busy setting up the hoover to notice.

“You said you don’t know very much about human dreams. Do mechs dream?”

“Those with an imagination do.”

“What do you dream about, Kryten?”

“Dusting, mostly.”

The door to your quarters slid open without your say so. You were about to rage at Holly, what on earth was she doing letting people in without asking permission? But then the very person you’d been avoiding all week strode into your room and your indignation sank to an awkward shyness.

Rimmer crossed his arms over his chest, his face stern and obstinate.

“Come on, then. Out with it.”

You lowered the book you’d been pretending to read for the last hour.

“What’s that?”

“You’ve been avoiding me for three days now. I must’ve done something wrong in your eyes, so just tell me so I can pretend to feel sorry and we can go back to normal.”

“You’re a real charmer, Arnie. You know that?”

Even the name. It pinged up like a neon sign in your head. No one else called him that. You didn't even call him that when anyone else was around. In fact, you were pretty sure Rimmer would kick up a fuss if you did.

But on the rare occasion it was just the two of you, you called him Arnie and he let you, and he, in turn, seemed more relaxed and, shockingly, almost happy. You didn’t tease him relentlessly like the others did, so the bar was very low, but you had a sneaking suspicion Rimmer actually really liked you.

Rimmer sighed so deeply, it seemed to knock all the strength from his hologrammatic body.

“Come on, I’m bored,” he whined, flopping into one of the chairs around the table in the centre of your quarters.

You just sighed and hid your face behind your book again.

“I’m not avoiding you, Arn. I just needed some time on my own.”

“To do what?”

“I don’t know! Read! Paint! Build a scale model of the Taj Mahal out of coffee stirrers! Anything to get away from all the bloody testosterone in this place for a while.”

It got so quiet in the room, the only sign that he hadn’t given in and swanned off to bother someone else was that the door hadn't swished open and closed.

You glanced up. Rimmer was still looking at you. You sighed and almost told him to get lost but then he said,

“Is this something to do with that dream you had?”

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over your head. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, you just stared, wide-eyed and panicked. The book fell from your hands and you scrambled to catch it.

“What dream?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound half as squeaky as you thought you did.

Rimmer shrugged.

“The one with me in it. Because if I said something horrible, it was probably well-deserved.”

“Who said anything about a dream?”

“Lister did.”

“Lister?”

“He said Cat told him you’d dreamt about me and it seemed to really bother you.”

“Right, hang on,” You held up your hands, trying to make sense of the hellish situation you’d suddenly been dropped into. “How does The Cat know?”

“Kryten told him.”

You blinked, so shocked you could barely think. That souped-up fucking bog brush.

“Come on, tell me. What did I do that was so bad?”

“Nothing! You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me!”

“I haven’t!”

“But Lister-”

“Is probably bored too and winding you up, Arnie. Think about it for a second.”

“But you did dream about me.”

“No!” It came out a lot louder than you anticipated but you were just so flustered and embarrassed, you couldn’t help it. “There was no bloody dream. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything at all. There was no dream.”

Strangely, Rimmer seemed disappointed.

“Oh,” he said, an odd sort of look in his eyes. “Well, alright then.” Then he smiled, already standing up to go. “Let’s play chess. See you in five?”

You scoffed. You were in serious danger of getting whiplash from this ridiculous interaction.

“Arnold, you’re shit at chess. You don’t even know how to play.”

“Then you can try teaching me again. Please.”

He pressed his palms together, his eyebrows knitting together imploringly.

To your own utter disbelief, you found yourself giving in with ease. Maybe you liked him more than you realised. How embarrassing.

“Fine. Make it ten minutes.”

Rimmer grinned and sprang from his chair with sudden vigour.

“Thank you!”

He left you to it, probably to go set up the chessboard in the mess.

You watched him go, trying not to let your gaze linger on his figure as he walked away. He was pretty handsome, you supposed. For a beam of projected light, that is.

“Arn?”

“Hm?”

He turned around in the doorframe. He was smiling.

It was such a rare thing to see Rimmer smiling simply because he was happy. It wasn’t a sardonic, sarcastic, or even schadenfreude smile. He was just pleased that you’d agreed to spend time with him, simple as that.

“What else did Lister say?” you asked, though you hardly dared to know.

Rimmer’s mouth twisted in thought, then he shrugged.

“Just that I should ask you what the dream was about and whether it meant he didn’t have to share a bunk with me anymore?”

It took everything in you not to drop your book, run out of the room, find Lister and tell him exactly what you thought of that joke.

“He’s pulling your H. Go on, I’ll see you in a bit.”

After he left, you threw your book against the wall of your bunk. Not too hard, books were rare on Red Dwarf and sometimes, all that kept you sane.

“Fucking mech,” you muttered. “Fucking men.”

With Kryten cooking in the mess, The Cat sprawled out and snoring on the settee, and Lister nowhere to be seen, it was as close to a perfect evening as you could get on the ship to nowhere.

You were comfy, wrapped up in blankets to fend off the cold, and winning at chess. You were as happy as you could be, considering your circumstances.

Across the table from you, Rimmer was scowling at the chessboard. Though he claimed to be something of a strategist, the game always got the better of him. You weren’t sure why he kept insisting you play.

He finally pointed at the piece he wanted you to move for him.

You smiled.

“That’s an illegal move, Arn.”

With a huff, he tried to pick up the piece and plunk it somewhere else. He was such a sore loser, it actually made him forget for a moment that he couldn’t touch anything.

“This is a pointless game.”

“You wanted to play.”

“No, I didn’t. I just know you like it.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“That’s why you picked chess?”

“Stupid idea.”

Rimmer, too distracted by the game, didn’t seem to notice he’d made you smile. Uncertain of the warm feeling growing in your chest, you just tried to ignore it and focus on the game.

That night, you dreamt of him again. This time, you knew it was him right away.

It was the same story, Rimmer’s big hands parting your thighs, his lips pressing soft kisses to you skin as he grew closer and closer to where you ached for him, then the wonderful, overwhelming warmth of his tongue.

You let your head fall back against the pillow, trying to spread your legs further apart so that Rimmer could press his tongue deeper into you. He was moaning against you, whining and whimpering your name as his hips ground against the mattress, searching of any kind of friction.

It happened just the same as before. He pulled away to meet your gaze with a dizzy grin. His lips glistened, his eyes dark and unfocused.

A tiny part of you, the tiny part that still had a voice when your body had succumbed to dreaming, suddenly sparked.

He wanted to play chess with you because it was your favourite, even though he hated it. He wanted to spend time with you and whined like a little kid when you refused. He liked you, he liked you so much. And he felt so fucking good.

You slipped your fingers through Rimmer’s thick, curly hair and pushed his head back down between your thighs. The moan you got in response was so low and virile, it made your hips jump.

His fingers pressed into your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide as he drank in every bit of you with his teeth, his tongue, his annoyingly perfect lips.

This time when you woke, your hand was down the front of your underwear before you could even open your eyes. You came moaning Rimmer’s name, his real name, and prayed no one on Red Dwarf had heard you.

Next Chapter

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#red dwarf #red dwarf fic #red dwarf imagine #arnold rimmer #arnold rimmer x reader #arnold rimmer reader #arnold rimmer x you #arnold rimmer you #arnold rimmer imagine #arnold rimmer smut #smut #rimmer #red dwarf smut #my post

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paulcales · 1 year

Photo

The Foundry

Chicago, 1985–2007

I was born in Detroit in the sixties, but the north side of Chicago built me into who I am today. Most of the construction happened in a small rudimentary concrete gym on the third floor of a dilapidated warehouse. Owned by a community of religious hippy zealots, almost every piece of barbaric equipment was handmade. Membership was free, but the cost was everything. In summer, we trained without air conditioning and wore gloves in the winter to keep our sweaty hands from sticking to the ice-cold bars.

We pounded the iron for hours after mopping hot tar all day in triple-digit temperatures. Arnold Schwarzenegger, Ed Coan, and Tom Platz were our mentors; pushing tons of weight and building the biggest biceps were our goals. Our camaraderie was suffering, and our bond was endurance and pride. Those training principles have sustained me for a life of living on the edge of the envelope.

During our climbing years, we developed a training system called Everest Fitness: Always be fit enough to climb Mt. Everest or Bench Press 300 pounds at the drop of a hat. It was a basic system that had no schedule. You just pushed it for days or weeks, and then when you could not crawl out of bed, you took a day off.

Strength, Power, and Endurance were combined with bodybuilding training so that you could survive anything and look good doing it. It was responsible for “Crossfit” training before someone thought about how to injure people and make money. Carrying sixty-pound bags of concrete in a backpack six miles to work, we ran home to lift weights for an hour. The next day we would run to work, then carry the concrete home, and hit the gym for 100 Pullups, 100 Pushups, 100 Leg Raises, and 100 Dips. Five days a week, twelve miles of cardio and then an hour suffering in the gym.

On weekends, we would carry an eighty-pound backpack for six hours and then perform a powerlifting program on the Bench Press or drive a couple of hours to rock climb from dawn to dusk, doing pushups between bouldering routes.

https://everestfitness.tumblr.com

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smegdwarf · 3 years

Text

But Who Could Love Me? (Rimmer X Reader) - Chapter 2

A/N: ..........👀

Warnings: Eh not really

Summary: Pretty much just giving Rimmer the love he deserves ☺️

It was no surprise that your new found friendship with Rimmer lead to teasing and wind ups from the rest of the crew but you being you, you took it on the chin. Something Rimmer admired you for.

“So let me get this straight? You’re friends with Rimmer now?” Lister asked, mischief in his voice.

“Is that a problem?” You replied, your eyes not leaving the book in front of you.

“No no...” Lister paused for a second “It’s just a bit weird”

“Well I am weird Listy!” You looked up with a smile.

“Ain’t that the truth” Lister laughed as you stood up “Where is his royal smegness anyway?”

“Working which is more than I can say for you Lister!” You smirked before flicking Listers nose and leaving the room.

“Ow you smegger!” You heard him shout after you.

You knew without putting too much thought into it where Rimmer would be, after all someone had to make sure Red Dwarf was running smoothly and headed in the right direction ...although he may not have been the best choice.

“Good Afternoon” You smiled as you walked into the Dwarfs navigation room, Rimmer quietly making his way through the book he was borrowing from you “Enjoying the book?”

“Well I was until they brought in a love storyline” Rimmer screwed up his nose “What’s wrong with a having a good story without love?”

“Is love really that bad?” You laughed a little as Rimmer’s eyes met you with a dead stare “Anyway...”

“What brings you here?” Rimmer asked putting the book down, maintaining friendships was always a challenge.

“Here, the dumb snack dispenser chucked out two bars when I only paid for one” You smiled as you placed the extra chocolate bar down next to the book followed by some almost inaudible jabbering from the snack machine just outside the door “Now it’s giving me back chat”

You’re little escapade with the snack dispenser brought a small smile to Rimmer’s lips as he let out a soft laugh while the snack machine outside continue to lose it.

“Hey buddy, you chucked out two snacks instead of one not me” You shouted out of the door at the machine.

“You didn’t have to take the second one” The snack machine was clearly up for a fight.

“Shut it or I will unplug you!” You threatened the machine as Rimmer laughed behind you “Am I really about to throw punches with a snack machine?”

“Apparently so” Rimmer smiled, still tickled by your snack fight.

“Well if it keeps you smiling” You shrugged with a smile “So what’s the plan for today?”

“I ...erm ...no plan yet” Rimmer stuttered, it would honestly be a miracle for him to accept your kindness without almost having a full blown panic attack.

“Ok well give me a shout if anything changes, there’s a few things Kryten wants me to take a look at” You smiled as you went to leave.

“Erm I’ve been meaning to ask ...what exactly is it that you do?” Rimmer was generally curious as you had never confirmed exactly what your position on your old ship was but you also couldn’t help but feel that Rimmer also didn’t want you to leave just yet.

“I’m an engineer” You smiled leaning against the door frame.

“What kind of engineer? Snack machines? Drink machines?” Before Rimmer wouldn’t even look at you and now here he is trying to hold a full conversation.

“An engineer engineer, I’m trained to fix anything that’s broken”

“C-can I help?” Rimmer asked innocently.

“I’m sure there’s a chicken soup dispenser that needs fixing somewhere” You smiled with a wink “Come on”

Rimmer didn’t know whether to groan and glare or smile and laugh at your dig, settling with a playful glare and a soft ‘you little smeg’ as you made your way to Kryten.

“So where do you need me to start Krytes?” You asked the mechanoid enjoying mopping the floors of the ship far more than anyone ever should.

“Oh of course, this way ma’am” It was only then when Kryten looked up from the floor he was cleaning that he realized that you wasn’t alone “Excuse me ma’am but are you aware Mr Rimmer is standing behind you?”

“Yes Kryten, he’s going to help me” You laughed as Kryten pulled a face of worry “Don’t worry it’ll be fine Krytes”

“Yes of course, this way” Kryten walked on a head.

“Bloody gimboid!” Rimmer muttered.

“Lister corrupted him, you know he can’t help it” You smiled as Rimmer’s shoulders relaxed and all tension left his body, you clearly had a stronger affect on him than you thought.

“Don’t you need tools?” Rimmer asked, noting your lack of a tool box or trolley.

“Who needs tools when we’ve got Kryten” You smiled as you patted the droid on the shoulder “He is basically a walking multi-tool ...no offense Krytes”

“None taken ma’am ...you are technically correct” Kryten gave you a smile only a droid can give.

“Let’s get fixing shall we?” And with that you took off to fix the many, many issues on Red Dwarf.

A few hours later and you were joined, in Rimmer’s eyes, by an unwanted visitor. Despite working away behind a soup dispenser you knew exactly who it is was without looking.

“What’s going on here then?” You could tell Lister was grinning, making a clear point about you and Rimmer working together “See we don’t even need to set it up anymore”

“Set what up?” Rimmer asked completely blind to what the boys had really been up to the moment you glitched to the ship.

“Just ignore him” You grumbled from behind the dispenser, rattling a pipe “Hey Arnie? Could you move the dispenser nozzle over for me please?”

“Ok” Rimmer replied quick and short as he did as you asked, apart from Kryten as soon as you were joined by either of the remaining crew Rimmer would instantly withdraw, almost too scared to even speak incase Lister would pick him apart or even worse he’d upset you., after all the filter between his brain and his mouth was faulty and he was much more aware of it with you around.

“Perfect!” You smiled at Rimmer from behind the machine as you triggered the machines cleaning system, a projectile wave of old chicken soup chunks covering Lister “Well that might explain why it wasn’t working?”

“YOU BLOODY SMEGHEADS!” Lister stormed off in a huff, presumably to the nearest shower.

“Have fun!” You called down the corridor after him as Rimmer broke into laughter “Two can play that game Listy!”

“Was that actually the problem with it?” Rimmer asked referring to the machine.

“Oh no, as soon as he opened his mouth I thought you know what would make him look better? Old chicken soup chunks!” You laughed as Rimmer looked at you almost in awe.

“You’re perfect” Rimmer let slip as he laughed, catching himself almost instantly attempting to covering it up.

“Arnold?” You replied surprised, for Rimmer that was the last thing you were expecting to escape his mouth.

“The prank!” He stuttered “I meant the prank was perfect”

“Come on, Kryten will almost be ready with dinner” You smiled, sparing Rimmer from more embarrassment than he was already feeling as his cheeks flushed a light shade of pink “I’m starving”

“Erm you’re a hologram, holograms don’t eat?” Rimmer pointed out, his smile slowly returning.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t feel hunger, let’s go!” You smiled as you walked off ahead, a soft chuckle from Rimmer travelled down the corridor.

Arriving back at the crews quarters The Cat and Lister were already digging into their dinner, the usual vindaloo.

“Your dinner ma’am” Kryten smiled as he placed the pasta dish down in front of you.

“Thanks Krytes, it looks great” You grinned at your plate.

“See Listy, I told you other food existed besides vindaloo curry” Rimmer grinned as he sat down at the table continuing on with his book from earlier earning a not so subtle groan from Lister.

“Hey pretty lady” Cat scooted his chair over to you, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Don’t even think about it” The Cat had made it his mission since you got here to try and ‘win you over’ but no matter how many times you turned him down he was reluctant to give up.

“Oh come on” Cat tried again, you noticed Rimmer watching you from the side of his vision behind his book.

“You need to back off before all 9 of your lives flash before your eyes” You said sternly enough that he eventually moved back.

“Obviously you’re not interested in the Cat or Kryten ...so what about me?” Lister looked up from his plate with the devil in his eyes.

“Why has my love life suddenly became topic of discussion?” You sighed as you tried to continue eating, Rimmer had completely stopped reading as he hid behind his book.

“Well would you?” Lister pushed a little more.

“I wouldn’t no” You replied bluntly as a grin formed on Listers face.

“What about Rimmer?” You choked on your pasta as the words left Listers mouth, Rimmer completely frozen behind his book.

“Just because there is a woman on your ship doesn’t mean one of you has to sleep with her?” You shouted as you dropped your fork, a loud clang radiating through the room as the metal hit the plate.

“It’s just hypothetical, you don’t have to date any of us” Lister pointed out.

“Lister shut up!” Rimmer growled, sensing your anger.

“Damn right I don’t” You stood up in a huff “Why do men never think with their brain?”

And with that you stormed out, leaving your dinner unfinished and you not quite sure where you were storming off too.

Realizing the only place you could really escape without being bothered was your room. Asking Holly to lock the door before throwing yourself in your bunk. It’s times like this that made you glad you chose to have your own quarters. Who knows what kind of hell would ensue if you hadn’t? You knew in their minds the boys probably didn’t mean it to be harmless but you weren’t standing for it ...and for that matter neither was Rimmer, it wasn’t much but he did try and get Lister to stop.

After losing yourself in a book for a couple hours you decided to go hunt down a snack machine, after all you had abandoned your dinner earlier. It would be your luck though that you didn’t have enough money on you, your foul mood insisting you take a hit on the snack machine but before you could an arm in a blue sleeve appeared over your shoulder to place a coin into the slot.

“Here” Rimmer said softly but still managing to scare the life out of you ...well metaphorically.

“Bloody hell” You grumbled as you held your chest, you maybe a hologram but holograms could still have heart attacks.

“Sorry I didn’t meant to...” Rimmer panicked.

“It’s fine and thank you, you didn’t have to do that” You managed a smile as your snack hit the bottom of the machine.

“Sorry about earlier” Rimmer’s eyes shot to the floor.

“It wasn’t your fault Arnie?” You looked at him a little sad, he didn’t do anything wrong and yet he was still taking the blame “Please don’t blame yourself”

“If you want I can get Kryten to make you another dinner...” Rimmer started to blabber “It’s not a problem”

“Arnie it’s fine” You smiled, placing your hand on his shoulder and feeling him instantly relax.

“The boys are having a game night, if you want to join?” Rimmer asked

“Erm I think I’ll pass this time” You spoke softly “I’m not really in the mood”

“Yeah me neither ...I best get going though” Rimmer turned to leave.

“You know you don’t have to go to game night...” You hesitated to see if he’d pick up on where you were going.

“What?” Rimmer froze, as far as he was concerned he was dreaming and he’d wake up any moment.

“You’re more than welcome to keep me company for the evening... if you want?” You smiled as Rimmer mulled over your offer “Come on”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of the footsteps behind you, pleased that Rimmer had chose the option that would make him happy and instead of going with what everyone else was doing so he didn’t feel left out. Rimmer had only seen your quarters from the door as you swapped over books for him, this time he was actually inside, looking around and taking in all of his surroundings.

“Excuse me while I change” You said calmly.

“Wait what?” Rimmer panicked, completely forgetting in that moment that you were a hologram and only focusing on the ‘change’ part of your sentence.

“Comfies please Hol!” You asked the computer as your blue uniform changed to leggings and an oversized jumper “Ah much better ...maybe you should try changing into something comfier?”

“I don’t think I have anything like that?” Rimmer spoke quietly, you were clearly distracting him.

“Holly, find some comfy clothes for Rimmer please?” You asked Holly again.

“Don’t look!” Rimmer exclaimed.

“What?” You laughed.

“I’m know I’m a hologram but don’t look while I change” Rimmer chuckled.

“Alright fine I won’t look” You laughed as you covered your eyes “Go on Holly!”

“Oh god this feels weird” Rimmer looked over his new clothes, black jogging bottoms and a blue jumper and even you couldn’t deny how soft and sweet he looked as he stood in front of you confused.

“Good weird?” You smiled as you sat down on your bunk.

“Too soon to say” Rimmer was completely occupied by what he was wearing to notice you had sat down.

“Hey Holly, is there anything new to watch?” You asked as Rimmer stood next to your bunk “Well sit down then”

“Are you sure?” It was clear he was nervous, it had been a really long time since he’d had any interaction with the opposite sex and even when he was alive it wasn’t something he was particularly experienced with.

“Yes” You laughed softly as you patted the spot next to you gently “Please sit down”

“You know if the others find us they’ll rinse us?” Rimmer sat down next you cautiously, as far he was concerned this was all some sort of elaborate joke and you were going to walk away or tell him to leave.

“Oh I have a plan don’t worry” You smiled as you looked over at the screen “Holly?”

“Yes Y/N?” Holly replied.

“Could you make sure the door is locked please? ...oh and see if you can get one of the scutters to bring up some snacks too please?” You made your demand, a sweet but nervous smile lighting up Rimmer’s face.

“Bob should be up in a few minutes, shall I tell him to leave your delivery outside the door?” Holly asked.

“You know the drill Hol!” You grinned.

“Something tells me you’ve done this before?” Rimmer raised his eyebrow, his hands resting in his lap.

“Well I need an escape from the rest of you sometimes you know” You teased “Well the other 3 anyway”

“You chose me over them?” Rimmer looked at you confused as the scutter tapped the door outside.

“I suppose I did” You smiled as you went to retrieve the delivery, turning back round to see a smug and rather pleased smile on Rimmer’s face “Hey no need to be a smug git ...or I might have to start calling you Ace?”

“Oi?” Rimmer shot you a glare as you sat back down.

“I’m joking” You laughed a little, picking up the chocolate bar Rimmer had got you earlier, breaking it in half and offering it to him “Here...”

“Erm thanks” Rimmer smiled as he took the offer.

“You’re welcome ...Holly start the film!” You asked the computer and that was it.

From that moment on movie night with Rimmer became a regular thing, you had both agreed not to speak a word to anyone else. After all you didn’t want everyone invading your space and for Rimmer, although he would never admit, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else. Arnold Rimmer was starting to feel something he’d never really felt before.

#red dwarf #arnold judas rimmer #arnold rimmer #arnold j rimmer #Rimmer #arnold rimmer x reader #Rimmer x reader #red dwarf fanfic #holy crap it fits in one!

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