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immortalcoelacanth · 3 years

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Between the Walls, Chapter 1: Roommates (Dream SMP fic)

I've noticed there's an unfortunate lack in Borrower AU content, and as that shit is my jam I'm putting forth the content I wish to see into the fandom XD

To quote my friend, "I do not control the hyperfixation"

Word count: 4497

Summary: At first retirement had sounded like an excellent idea. Make a house far away from everyone else, get some peace and quiet, no longer concern himself with the total garbage that was the local government. Nice things, relaxing things.…

But then the scratching in the walls started happening.

Techno groaned as he flopped backwards into his chair, tired eyes staring into the glowing fireplace as he relaxed after his busy day. A day full of building, repairing the damage dealt by the creeper population, and…

A day spent trying to find any signs of his thief.

You see, Techno had assumed that retirement would be an excellent way to unwind from the massive amount of blood that had been shed after L’Manberg went up in smoke, as well as the aggravation he felt towards his sweet, innocent cows being slaughtered and his bunker being raided.

Raided and dismantled thanks to Phil stealing his bookshelves and in turn chunks of the wall.

It was scuffed, horribly scuffed, and left him with one option.

Relocation.

That, combined with the wanted posters Quackity had hung up demanding his capture and subsequent execution after what he had done. Honestly, talk about the biggest character arc for Quackity, going from fearing him to taking an active role in trying to end his life.

Too bad for him that Technoblade never dies.

But still, having to constantly deal with being attacked while no longer having a truly safe and secure base was troublesome, so he had sought out to make a new home far from L’Manberg and all other communities.

The isolation did not scare him, on the contrary he liked having a space all to his own with no worries about socialization or someone bothering him. Besides, Phil could always visit him if he wanted some company.

Fortunately, constructing his new home had taken relatively little time once he had found the best spot for it, and with some help from Phil, moving all the important resources and equally important fixtures of his home had taken even less time.

All in all, Techno had managed to acquire a new sanctuary away from all the plotting and scheming, although he had a feeling someone would try to mess with him at some point, and he had plenty of space to make a brand new vault. He had achieved peace and quiet, and was even in the process of planning on making a turtle farm. Surely all these positive developments would mean he was happy, right?

Well, he would be if it weren’t for the fact that there was a thief rummaging through his home.

It started with small things, like his chests becoming less and less organized over time. Yes, there were moments where he simply chucked whatever useless items were in his inventory into the nearest empty chest, but he would never clutter up chests containing important items, like potions and enchanted books.

So, finding several misplaced items as well as random blocks of dirt and stone, practically pebbles given their size, while also finding certain resources such as wood and leather missing was the first sign of something strange going on.

The next was the odd noises that seemed to come from the walls of his home. Faint scratches that would be inaudible to anyone but himself due to his heightened hearing. It reminded of a rat infestation, and he unconsciously shuddered.

Not due to fear or discomfort, but the sheer amount of work it would take to get rid of a pest infestation. At that point he might as well take his house apart and build elsewhere.

However, despite his suspicions and hypothesis, there was practically no evidence to support. There were, thankfully, no signs of rat activity, or activity from any other pests. No scratches, bite marks, signs of wood decaying, or anything like that. Other than the noise and the strangely messy organization of his chests, there was no sign of the thief.

And he had looked.

Intensely, as best he could. Logic and inductive reasoning had led him to this conclusion. There was a thief, so there had to be signs of this thief somewhere. A lack of footprints meant they must use pearls to get around. The fact that his rarer resources had not been stolen, his potions of strength and enchanted books, meant that his thief was either unconcerned with stealing things of value from him and just wanted to mess with him, or they were a cocky idiot.

… So it was either Ranboo or-

His ears perked up, cutting off his train of thought as he glanced over at the nearby wall. His eyes narrowed and he pushed himself up and out of his chair before striding over to the wall, cape swishing about behind him.

He pressed the side of his head against the wall, eyes closing as he tried to focus on where the sound was coming from. It was here! It had to be! There was something hidden in this very wall. The source of his annoyance, his thief.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Techno readied his axe, and swung it down-

xxxxxxxxxx

There are times where Tommy can’t stop himself from looking in the nearest reflective surface and asking how he managed to fuck things up this bad. It was painful to recall the steps that had led him to this outcome, the signs obvious but he had been too stupid and ignorant to pay them any mind.

Causing trouble was in his blood, something the local borrower community had reluctantly accepted over the years, helped by how eager he was to throw himself into dangerous situations. Something that should have been concerning to the adults who watched them, taught them how to borrow, how to gather items and even hunt in order to survive, but he had learned that lesson at a very, very young age.

The lesson that no one would step in to help him if he was in danger. That he was on his own and had to prove his worth in order to stay, constantly putting his life on the line for the slightest crumb of respect.

To hear someone say that he had done a good job, to be thanked for his hard work instead of always being brushed off and ignored.

Of course, his friendship with Tubbo helped to soothe that constant within him, dulling the sting of rejection while reminding him that there was one person who truly cared about him. One person who would always be there for him, would lift him up when he was down, and jump into any situation to protect him.

Orphans had to stick together, after all.

And it was a good thing they did end up working together as the duo balanced each other out perfectly. Tommy was far more outgoing and blunt, hotheaded being the best word to describe him. He was willing to do whatever he needed, always ready to speak up when he thought there was bullshit going on, and spoke his mind freely.

It was an ironic honesty, a trait that one assumed would help to attract friends but only aided in driving them away.

Meanwhile, Tubbo was much softer in some ways. Much more reserved than Tommy, he was more of a thinker and planner. Nowhere near as comfortable with spontaneous action as his friend, but he had the knowledge and skills to reign in those impulsive actions before things got dangerous.

They were the best of friends, pals to the very end.

Even though they would never see each other again.

And it was all his fault.

Tommy had ruined everything.

The plan had been simple, easy. All he wanted to do was mess up Mrs. Brigsburry’s house. Just a tiny touch of crime and freaking the old bat out.

She deserved so much worse because of that day. The pot that had been thrown at Tubbo and how much blood Tommy had seen running down the side of his face. The bitch’s shrieks and curses as she insulted them over and over again.

Swearing they both should have died with their parents-

How was he supposed to know he accidentally left one of her rags near the lit stove, the fire within causing the piece of fabric to ignite and in turn allowing the flames to spread to the rest of the house.

It was a good thing she lived on the edge of Borrowton, the fires thankfully only burning her home to the ground.

No one wanted to live near an asshole like her.

Tommy, who had been feeling proud of himself, quickly experienced true regret and fear once the meeting started. Shouts, demands, and insults had flown through the air, many of the people he had grown up with insisting that he be tossed out for what he had done, exiled from the only home he had ever known.

It had been terrifying to see how quickly everyone had turned against him, how they refused to give him the chance to defend himself or even explain why he had done what he did. Not even Tubbo had been able to protect him from the crowd’s wrath, his attempts at standing in front of Tommy and blocking him from sight thwarted when one of the adults grabbed his arm and dragged him elsewhere.

He would never be able to forget the haunting sight of Tubbo reaching for him, tears pouring from his eyes as he screamed his name over and over. It was the last time he had seen his friend, too.

And yet, this was not the worst part of his punishment.

He had been given an hour, one measly hour, to pack up everything he had ever owned before being forcefully exiled from Borrowton. The realization of what was happening had slammed into him all at once, leaving Tommy trembling and unable to move.

He was going to lose everything he had ever known, everything he had worked so hard to build, Tubbo-

He was going to lose his Tubbo.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

No amount of begging or pleading had stopped the adults who dragged him to his shoddy, shared home. He had groveled on his hands and knees, promising to change, to do better, to do whatever they wanted if they just let him stay.

Don’t take my Tubbo away. Don’t take him away. I need him, I need him-

Smack!

The harsh sting of his cheek and the painful sensation of his neck snapping back from the force of the slap was enough to snap Tommy out of his trance. He blinked and looked around, feeling all the more disconnected from reality as he noticed the two bags that had been placed beside him.

One for food, and one for clothes and tools.

… He was really getting exiled, wasn’t he?

“You have no one to blame but yourself for this.” The adult beside him grumbled, dragging the stunned teen up to his feet and shoving him towards the door.

“Front gate. Now. And if I find you causing more trouble, you’ll be leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back.” The man sneered.

For a moment that spark of anger rose up in him, rage flowing through his veins and making his fists clench while he ground his teeth together. The urge to lash out, both physically and verbally, was strong, and yet…

As quickly as those feelings emerged, they faded, and Tommy was left feeling hollow and drained. What was the point in fighting back if all he did was get himself into more trouble. It was obvious they weren’t going to change their minds, he would be exiled no matter what, and if he did lash out-

Tubbo screaming his name as he was dragged away, snot and tears flowing down his face. Thrashing and struggling in a futile attempt to reach him.

… The risk, the damage he could do to his friend, was far greater than the satisfaction of breaking the man’s knobby nose. So, with extreme reluctance, Tommy left the house and made his way towards the front gate. The streets were surprisingly empty, he had expected to see a mob of people cheering while watching him leave, maybe even get the occasional bit of dirt thrown his way.

Treated like the trash they thought he was.

His send off lacked all formality. Only the usual guards of the gate were present, and even then they paid him no mind. He was simply shoved towards another borrower, a lady this time who, based on the immense amount of foliage covering her clothes, spent most of her life out in the wild.

God, how would he ever survive out there. Between the wild animals, the shitty weather, and the mobs that would wander the lands when darkness fell, he was doomed.

He had only ever known how to survive in his community, where you could barter for goods and depend on someone to help you. Now he wouldn’t have any of that. There would be no shelter, no safety in numbers-

No Tubbo.

Numb, Tommy was shoved towards the woman and quietly took note of the presence of the animal he could not see before. It was a fox, quite large compared to him and the other borrowers, and domesticated since it wasn’t ripping anyone apart.

… Or maybe it was just waiting until he got outside, then it would rip him to shreds. Wouldn’t want any blood splatters staining the inside of the gate.

He was so absolutely, royally fucked.

“C’mon, we gotta get moving.” The woman barked, grabbing his arm and pushing him towards the fox with little care for his comfort and the fact that she was adding more bruises to his arm. Tommy hissed in pain and rubbed the aching spot while glaring at her.

Everyone in this place was a fucking asshole.

“Alright, alright, chill the fuck out. I’m moving.” Tommy grumbled as, after a moment of hesitance, buried his hands in the animal’s warm fur and climbed up its side. A moment later, the woman jumped up to join him, taking a seat near the fox’s shoulders while Tommy struggled to pull his bags up as well.

Finally, once his meager supplies had joined him, it was time for them to set off. He had nearly been thrown off as the fox stood up, and when the animal sprinted out of the hidden tunnel and into the fading sunlight-

Well, it was a good thing he managed to grab hold of his bags before they were knocked off. He shuddered in the sudden, stinging breeze, and did his best to hunker down into the warm fur below him. He had no idea where they were going, no clue what far away biome he would be abandoned in, and quietly decided to not think about it further. The last thing he wanted to do was to start crying.

… Even if he had been ever since they first left the front gate.

He quickly rubbed at his face, trying to dry the lingering tears so there were less signs as to his degenerating mental state, and instead decided that it would be best to strike up a conversation, something that would help to distract him from what was going on.

Tubbo, Tubbo. He missed Tubbo. He wanted to see Tubbo again-

“Name’s Tommy!” He called out. “What’s yours?”

Silence was his answer.

“... Well fuck you too then.”

Much like the start of their journey, the rest of the trip was silent as the fox ran through various biomes, fields, and forests. On multiple occasions they stopped, the woman gathering some sort of herb every single time.

… Perhaps she was making drugs.

Tommy snorted to himself at the joke, mood lifting just the slightest bit before plummeting back to bedrock. God, he was tired. His body ached from sitting still for so long, as well as the general discomfort from the fox nimbly jumping from cliff to cliff, ducking around trees, and just being an agile shitbag. It was annoying and he hated it.

… Hated the fact that he was getting further and further away from his friend. Hated the fact that the fox could cover far more distance than he could ever hope of traversing on his own, and that the odds of him managing to reunite with Tubbo at some point were growing slimmer with every block they crossed.

Eventually they reached the coldest biome Tommy had experienced yet, ponds covered by ice and snow layering the ground. The snow seemed to muffle their surroundings, the only sounds coming from the snow crunching under the fox’s paws and the animal’s panting as it started to feel the strain of their journey.

And yet, for as desolate as this tundra seemed to be, Tommy spotted something in the distance. A structure that was definitely man made and appeared to be well taken care of, which meant there was someone living there.

Someone he could mooch off of and boost his chance at surviving his exile.

It had been a stroke of pure luck that he had managed to convince the borrower escorting him to change their route, practically begging her to take him to the lit house that was just barely visible through the snow.

The sounds of Tommy sniffling and sobbing since the start of their journey had probably helped to wear down her resolve to take him to wherever he was originally supposed to go.

In the end, she had agreed and directed the fox towards the house. It was interesting to see her previous confidence of navigating the cold tundra diminish the closer they got to their destination, as though she was unsettled by the house.

Strange, but then again she probably thought the same of him and how much of an idiot he was for getting kicked out of somewhere perfectly safe.

Safe aside from the prying eyes, the cruel words and harsh hands. His salvation was Tubbo and their whispered promises. They would leave one day, set out into the world and make their own home.

The moment they arrived at their destination, the woman wasted no time in metaphorically, and literally, kicking him off the fox. He dropped into the freezing snow, landing face first, and pushing himself up seconds later to cough out the chilly substance that had invaded his mouth.

The memory of Tubbo laughing as his snowball hit Tommy in the face, the other teen turning to the side and yelling about how “cold as shit” it was.

“Maybe you should try keeping your mouth shut for once.” Tubbo teased as Tommy, snow still stuck to parts of his face, flipped him off.

“Fuck you.”

Tubbo’s laughter rang out around them, and the teen kept laughing until his face was red and tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

… Damn, it was cold.

Trembling, he stood up just in time to dodge the bags that had been carelessly thrown his way, getting a concussion from one of his tools would definitely be a death sentence in this situation, and he promptly flipped the woman off.

“Oi! Watch where you’re throwing that shit!” He shouted before crouching down to inspect his supplies, quietly relieved that nothing seemed to have been damaged. “Fucking bitch...”

She just rolled her eyes in response to his insults and looked unimpressed as he grumbled, huffed, and got himself organized. No words were exchanged between the duo, no goodbyes or wishes for good luck, just the howling of the winds while the borrower made his way to his new home.

As Tommy had trudged through the too tall snow, he had been oblivious to the way the woman stared at the house, eyes wide with some sort of emotion. Was it fear? Not quite, it was more a combination of dread mixed with reverence, emotions fueled by her knowledge of the being who resided in this place. A whispered phrase floated through the air, much too quiet for him to have heard. It was a simple sentence that made her stance and understanding of the situation clear.

“Blood for the Blood God.”

Then she fled, leaving Tommy alone to deal with whatever fate he had stumbled into by breaking into the house.

And what a house it was.

All pretty and neatly designed, complete with various floors and tons of storage, and even some decorative flowers outside the windows, which meant Tommy had many things to rummage through. The roaring fireplace was an added bonus since the cold was one of the things he had been the most worried about.

Knowing those assholes, they had probably planned to abandon him somewhere in the tundra, leaving him alone and freezing in the cold…

Honestly, all things considered, this was a good place to settle down in. He had basically everything he needed, as well as access to some rarer resources too. It was ideal, practically perfect given how easy it would be to create small, unnoticeable entrances into each chest for him to use to snag items, but there was one downside to his new home.

His roommate.

He was tall, far taller than anyone Tommy had ever seen before, and he looked… weird. Like one of those pig monsters he had heard stories about back in Borrowton. Monsters from hell that craved gold and bloodshed. With his pig-like features, including a set of tusks that poked up from his lower jaw, he was a perfect match for those nightmarish beasts.

… But, they weren’t in hell, and this man seemed to be far less gold and bloodshed obsessed than the stories had said, even with the various scars the borrower had seen littering his body.

It was weird, he was weird, and the weirdness had only increased the more time Tommy spent in the house. Despite his regal attire, consisting of a flowing cape and golden crown, it was obvious that the pig-man was no prince or nobility. Plus there were those shitty reading glasses Tommy had seen him wearing once, stuck together with taping and looking like they were on the verge of breaking again. He was the strangest combination of loud-yet-awkward behaviour, something that the borrower actually related to quite a bit. His roommate was not “normal” and acted how he wanted, whenever he wanted, with little regard to how “improper”, “violent”, or “rude” he was.

Like Tommy…

He found it comforting to know that there was someone else more like him out there, someone else who was unlike everyone in Borrowton, someone else who would know what it felt like to be treated as an outcast, like he did not belong there or anywhere. Stuck in this new place, he did not feel as alone as he originally expected.

He did not consider the possible problems this could cause in the future, of course. Tommy had never the best at planning ahead since that had been Tubbo’s specialty-

But, the positives ended there as he realized that trying to survive in this relatively small, isolated house was going to be far more of a challenge then he had originally anticipated, with his roommate presenting the greatest obstacle to his success. Breaking in had been easy, actually situating himself and building a decent base within the walls of the house was downright impossible in these circumstances. At most he had managed to dig out a shitty hole close to the fireplace where he stashed all his stolen goods.

And even if he wanted to leave, it was impossible thanks to all the snow and how bloody cold this damn biome was!

So, here Tommy was, having essentially trapped himself with some creepy pig guy who owned too many weapons for comfort and was decked out like he was about to fight the whole damn world. Sure, his house was pretty nice, there was tons of food for him to steal and snack on, and the resources were plenty, but he would have rather had anyone else as a roommate in this situation.

At least this guy was in retirement, or whatever that meant.

He let out an annoyed sigh, arms dropping as he allowed his axe to rest against the wooden floor of the passage he had been carving out. While most of the house was made out of concrete, Tommy had focused on carving passages through the wooden supports in order to have a network of tunnels he could easily move around in without being spotted. All in all, it was a good plan, even if it was a massive pain in the ass to make.

It was like every time he started making a tunnel, no matter what time of the day it was, that piggy dipshit would show up and start stalking the walls, looking for him!

… Granted, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to make boar-face all suspicious by messing with his chests, but Tommy needed the resources! And it was pretty funny hearing the surprised sounds the man would make echo through the house.

His trouble making nature might have been the cause for his exile, along with some other bullshit, but that did not mean he would try to suppress it, even if it would be better for him in the long run. That was like asking to stop breathing. It was just a part of him that could only be controlled and never truly stopped.

… He missed Tubbo. He missed him so much and the ache in his chest still had not faded, and he felt all hollow and empty, without purpose-

Unfortunately for the borrower, the world refused to give him a break as he spiraled, his negative emotions distracting him and preventing him from paying attention to his surroundings.

Like the footsteps that were slowly getting closer to his location.

Without warning, the wall beside him cracked and split open, and Tommy let out a terrified shriek. He jumped backwards, dropping his axe in the process as light spilled into the carved out passage.

The now exposed passage.

A passage that had been cracked open by a certain pig man who had clearly been awake instead of asleep like he had assumed. Brilliant red eyes met terrified blue, and Tommy swallowed nervously.

Of course, of fucking course! As if the world didn’t hate him enough as is! Now he had to deal with that pig shithead who’d been tormenting him for days with his stupidly good hearing, preventing him from making any progress in creating his new home.

And of course the second he tried to make a tunnel this bastard just had to appear and ruin everything!

On the plus side, he had not actually done anything yet, although Tommy was certain things would turn south soon based on the axe the man was holding. So, he would live for now, and his shocked state allowed the borrower to make the first move.

“How do,” Tommy greeted, tilting his head to the side and smirking. “You ugly motherfucker.”

If he was going down, he would go down swinging.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Technoblade, holding up a cup containing Tommy: So I found this, anyone wanna trade a book of mending for him- Tommy: *feral screaming intensifies*

#my story #fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp fic #borrower au #dsmp tommy #dsmp techno #dsmp tubbo #mild angst #tw mentions of abuse #borrower!tommy #the lads are orphans #the start of found family #dream smp borrower au #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois inc fic

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littlestarofthewest · 3 years

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Title: Boss Ass Bitch | Word Count: 2645 | Rating: Explicit (18+!!!)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader (in this chapter)

Tags: modern AU, mechanic AU, work in progress

Chapters: [1] [2]

Your first week in your new job flies by quickly. Molly's got so much to teach you that you can't focus on anything else. Only during your breaks, you have a moment to look through the huge window that lets you watch the boys in the garage.

Most of the time, they're busy with their work, but sometimes you can hear their laughter through the wall when they're joking with each other. Once in a while, one of them comes into the office to talk something out with Molly, but you're too busy to pay attention.

By the time week two rolls around, you feel confident to be on your own. Molly leaves her number just in case and assures you that you can always ask the boys if you have more questions. You smile and nod while thinking that you'll try to avoid that option.

Come Monday, you get to the shop almost an hour early, but you're still not the first there. The door is open, and the lights are on. When you make your way to the office, Charles comes along the corridor that leads to the boys' changing room.

Surprise graces his face when he sees you, but then he smiles. "Good morning."

"Morning."

"You're early."

"I thought it might be a good idea to get a headstart," you say, suddenly feeling stupid. You're a grown woman, after all, you shouldn't be so nervous. "You're early yourself."

Charles shrugs. "I get up with the sun most of the time. Just can't sleep any longer."

"I wish that was me," you sigh. "I don't mind sleeping in."

"I hope you'll still have a good day."

"Thank you," you say, warmth spreading in your chest. Unlike most people, Charles sounds genuine, and you can do with the encouragement. You still smile after Charles when he walks over to the car he's working on, but then you put yourself together and disappear into your new office.

The first two hours go by quickly, and you have a good feeling about your work. So far, you know exactly what to do, and you're confident you can make it through the day without messing up. Thanks to the big window, you can see that Arthur and John arrived as well.

You watch the boys for a bit while all three of them bend into the same car, involved in a serious discussion. Compared to your first day, they are moderately dressed for once. Charles and John both wear blue overalls, and while John's is so dirty that his one appears black, he at least closed the buttons.

Arthur's wearing blue pants as well, with a simple gray shirt, and you're once again pissed because they can look this good without effort. With a sigh, you go back to an email you've started when the office door opens.

"Hey Molly, we need-" Arthur says while coming in but stops himself when he sees you. "Sorry, I was looking for Molly."

"She's not here today," you say, getting nervous again. "In fact, she's not coming anymore. She put me in charge."

"Oh good," Arthur says, and just like Charles, he seems pleased. "I just need the schedule, and then I'm out of your hair."

The nervous feeling wanders from your chest up into your throat. "Schedule?"

"Yeah, so we know which cars to finish first. Or the 'yeet sheet' as John likes to call it."

You remember Molly mentioning that as well, and a light turns on in your head. "Yes, of course. Molly prepared it on Friday."

You see the sheet in front of your inner eye, but then nothing. Arthur walks up to your desk, rubbing his hands. "Great, can I have it?"

"I, um, don't remember where she put it," you admit. "I can call her."

"No need, you can just print out a new one," Arthur says, rounding your desk. "I've done it a few times when Molly was busy. Let me show you."

Arthur leans over your shoulder, pointing to the folders you need while you sneak side-glances at him. You already found him attractive from afar, but up close, it's way worse. He has lovely blue eyes with sort of a golden ring in the middle, and his beard looks so soft, you have to fight the urge to rub your face against his.

Arthur's scent doesn't help either. There are strong undertones of the garage, like motor oil and metal, but also something fresh like recently washed sheets. You take a deep breath and try to focus on what Arthur is showing you, but then he leans in even closer to read the folders' names.

"That must be it," he says, pointing to one of them.

A shiver runs down your spine when his breath ghosts over the skin on your neck, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. You wish you could turn around and bury your face in his chest but instead, you print out the file he needs, your eyes hefted to the screen.

"There you go."

"Thank you, my lady," Arthur says. He walks over to the printer and waves a little goodbye with the piece of paper before leaving you alone in your office.

You use the next few minutes to stare blankly at your screen, trying to stomach what just happened, from Arthur casually calling you 'my lady' to you feeling like a cat in heat just because a guy stood a little too close to you.

Over the last few weeks, you've been so busy with the job change that you didn't even think to take care of yourself. Being confronted with three good looking guys every day clearly doesn't help your situation. You decide to battle your horniness the second you get home today and go back to work.

You manage to get through the rest of the week without any more hiccups, and aside from some annoying or unfriendly clients, this might just be the best job you've ever had. In the mornings, you often run into Charles, getting your first smile of the day. Then you exchange some small talk with Arthur while he's getting his caffeine fix in the break room, and John's usually the one to stay late, closing up with you.

They're all so nice that you consider yourself spoiled. Still, you deserve a treat, so you use the weekend for some intense self-care. At first, you feel a bit guilty when the boys enter your mind as you pleasure yourself, but you can't help it, and it does wonders for your body and soul.

You go back to work on Monday with a big smile on your face, and time flies by. You're not even tired when it's time to go home again. As your last act of the day, you do a little inventory check. It's your job to stock up the break room and buy necessities like toilet paper and cleaning supplies.

When you come back from the kitchen, the garage is dark. Arthur's been the last of the boys, but it seems that he went home by now, so you grab your clipboard and head for the guy's changing room to see if they need anything refilled.

You should have noticed that the lights are still on, but you're busy writing down what to buy the next day. After waltzing into the room, you look up and freeze on the spot.

Arthur is standing in front of the lockers with a towel over his head to dry his hair. The problem is that that's the only thing covering him. You stare at his naked body, your eyes roaming from his feet upward over his manhood to his bare chest, and you can't bring yourself to look away.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you forget to hold on to your clipboard, and it clutters to the ground with an overly loud sound. Arthur comes out from under the towel, staring at you with surprise.

"Sorry, I- I didn't- I mean, I thought-" you stammer, unable to finish a single sentence. "God, I didn't mean to-"

You're still staring at Arthur until he has the sense to put the towel around his hips. Finally, you can move and get on the floor to retrieve your clipboard and a few loose pages. "I'm so sorry, I thought I was alone."

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Arthur says, his voice calm.

While you can feel your face grow hot, Arthur doesn't sound embarrassed at all. You put the pages back into the clipboard and dare to look at him again. In hindsight, you shouldn't have done that. The towel is barely covering Arthur, so you still have an excellent view of his body. You can't help but take it in, and when your eyes meet Arthur's, there's something challenging in them.

"Do you want to come over here?"

You know you should turn and run, but Arthur's voice lures you in as if he was a well-built siren. Your feet take you the few steps over to him all on their own, and you're enveloped by Arthur's fresh scent. He takes the clipboard and places it on a bench next to you before reaching for your face.

Arthur lifts up your chin, and when you look at him, there's still the fire in his eyes, but he's smiling. "Hey," he says, and you feel calmer somehow.

You manage a shaky "hey" as well, and Arthur's fingers trail along your face before cupping your cheek.

"Mind if I kiss you?"

You can't remember anybody asking you this before, and your brain has a hard time coming up with an answer. After all, Arthur's right there, still built like a demigod and still deliciously naked.

"I- um, I wouldn't mind," you say, still wondering why he would even want to.

Before you can think of a reason, Arthur already leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He keeps teasing you, but when you're still frozen on the spot, he retreats.

"I'm not trying to pressure-" Arthur starts, but your mind finally catches up.

You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for another kiss. Since you're way less gentle than him, Arthur matches your eagerness, his tongue rubbing hot against your own.

Despite your little fun sessions at home, you still feel charged with sexual energy, and you can't help but grind against Arthur with your whole body. He takes to kissing along your neck, and his hands wander to your breasts.

"Have to admit that I've been thinking about this," he says as his fingers rub your nipples through the fabric of your top. "Those blouses and the damn skirts."

You just tried to look professional, so it's quite a nice piece of information that your get up railed Arthur up just as much as his clothes bothered you.

"Take them off then," you say, growing bolder. This is already happening, so you might as well go the distance.

Arthur growls as he fumbles with the buttons of your shirt, and the second he gets them all open, he pushes down the fabric of your bra to expose your naked skin. Kissing down your body, Arthur sits down on the bench, pushing up your skirt next.

When he caresses your thighs, you eagerly spread your legs, and Arthur pulls down your underwear before his face takes its place. You let out a little squeal when his tongue touches you, but he keeps going, and you hold on to his shoulder to keep yourself upright.

Arousal pools between your legs and you just know you're going to paint Arthur's face with your juices if he keeps going like that. Digging your fingers into Arthur's hair, you can't help but rub yourself against him, eager to get as much friction as possible.

Arthur keeps licking you with slow, hot strokes of his tongue while his hands wander upwards until he can touch your breasts. Your nipples grow hard in the cold air, and he keeps teasing them until you can't take it anymore.

You hold Arthur in place, your thighs shaking as you come, and his moans are just as bad as yours. Usually, you'd be quite satisfied now, but you can only think about wanting more.

After releasing Arthur from your iron grip, you pull the towel away and climb on Arthur's lap. While kissing, you reach for his cock, making him groan against your lips. You've never done anything like this before, but now you can only think about riding Arthur until you forget your own name.

You take position over Arthur and carefully lower yourself onto him until he's fully sheeted inside you.

"Jesus Christ, you're tight," Arthur groans, his fingers digging into your hips.

As slowly as you can, you move up again, making Arthur curse. It feels just as good for you, the constant rub bringing even more heat, and you put your arms around Arthur's neck so you can ride him properly.

He's holding on to your hips, doing his fair share to lift you up, but he gets distracted and nibbles and licks wherever he can reach you. You wish it wouldn't turn you on that much, since you're usually not one for one night stands or sex in weird places.

Although it's late, you can't shake the idea that Charles or John could come back. Even worse, what if Dutch showed up? You roll your hips for more friction and deliberately clench your muscles around Arthur.

"Goddamn, girl," Arthur growls, "don't do that."

Arthur holds you in place when you don't stop, pushing into you with a few sharp thrusts. He moans with his head buried against your neck, his whole body going rigid when he comes.

You hold still to give him a moment, not ready for him suddenly lifting you up so he can put you down on the bench next to him.

Arthur dives between your legs, his beard scratching your thighs as he licks you again. All you can do is hold on to the bench, skitting towards bliss without a break. You arch your back when you hit your breaking point, and Arthur lets you rut against him until you're completely satisfied.

All you can do now is stare up at the ceiling and catch your breath. Arthur cleans himself up with his towel before running a warm hand along your thigh.

"I'll be right back," he says, and soon he offers you some tissues to get yourself cleaned up as well. When you sit up, Arthur watches you intently. "You alright?"

"I was supposed to do some inventory for the order tomorrow."

"That's what you're thinking about?" Arthur huffs.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so used to planning everything," you explain. "This is not how I imagined my evening."

"Me neither. It's bad enough that you're distracting me during work. I didn't think it would happen after."

You wish you could say something to that, but you get so flustered that you focus on putting your clothes in order instead.

"Don't worry about the order," Arthur says, "I know what we need; I can just tell you."

"That would be great," you say, picking up your clipboard, but before you take any notes, you look Arthur over. "Maybe you should get dressed first."

"Why?"

"It's distracting."

Arthur leans back with a smile, giving you an even better view. "Really?"

You lean in to give him a kiss, right before clutching the clipboard to his chest. "That list better be on my desk tomorrow at 9am."

"Yes, ma'am," Arthur says, but he doesn't move, so you turn tail and run.

If you stay, chances are you're going to eat your dinner off of him.

#arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #modern au #my writing #cara's mechanic au

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rattlemycage · 4 years

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I Feel Like I Win When I Lose

Hi friends. This is straight up 22k words of pure Henry Cavill smut. Please be gentle--I have not written in over 10 years. Miss Rona’s Stay At Home order made me do it. I’m also like 80 years old at heart and don’t know how to do all of this fancy formating ya’ll have on your fics. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

Word count: Just under 22k...I got carried away.

Rating: NC-17. E. It’s just pure smut my dudes.

Warnings: Dom/Sub undertones, Daddy Henry, bondage (Spreader bar, ball gag, clamps, etc), squirting, spitting, unprotected sex. Pure filth.

Title comes from Abba because I found it hilarious that I was listening to Waterloo while writing about defiling Henry.

You knew better than to test him, and yet you’d done it anyway. That’s how you’d ended up like this-flat on your back at the very edge of the bed with a spreader bar strapped to your ankles, cuffs on your wrists with metal snaps affixing said wrists to your ankles.

You’d also been outfitted with nipple clamps and a ball gag that had the same baby pink leather as your wrist and ankle cuffs. Pink because you liked pretty things, and Daddy always wanted you to feel pretty. Even when you were getting fucked within an inch of your life.

You hold onto the bar between your feet to relieve the pull on the muscles in your arms, as well as to try and ground yourself. Try, being the operative word. Henry had left you strapped up like this for what felt like hours-in reality, it had been twenty, maybe thirty minutes. You’d heard him puttering about the living room, typing on his computer for a bit before getting up and letting Kal outside through the back door. But suddenly, the sounds of a body living its life had stopped. And then...nothing. Everything became deadly quiet. And that is what made you so tense.

You knew he was preparing for your punishment. You’d wanted it in a way, of course you did, otherwise you wouldn’t have been such a brat when had nicely asked you to give him some space while he finished reading a script that he had let collect dust for the last few weeks in favor of spending time with you. Instead of doing as he’d asked, you’d purposely walked in the room more than a few times, swaying your hips to the music only you could hear, swishing your translucent, powdery lilac robe around you as you moved towards him. He’d barely spared you a glance, and that just wouldn’t do. So you kept at it. You asked Daddy to...help you. Knowing he’d read between your lines instead of the ones on the page in front of him. Yet somehow, he had resisted. Given you a stern look more than once and told you “Daddy is busy, sweetheart. Please do as I asked.”

Your refusal to do so lead you to your current setup, with Henry god knows where in the house, waiting to make his move. Waiting to pounce. Waiting to make you beg for forgiveness before you begged for his cock inside of you. When you start to think that maybe he had actually left the house with you strapped up like this, a thought that made you panic a bit more than you already were, you heard the creak of the door. You startle, holding your breath, waiting for a word to be uttered, or a hand to meet your ass. It all depended on how mad at you he was.

“Look at me” he barks at you. You turn your head to the left, seeing him standing in the doorway, face set in a frown and eyes dark and stormy. Oh. He was very mad.

He sneers at you some more, and then suddenly his face morphs into a smirk. You’re fucked. “So...what do you have to say for yourself?”. You look at him, drool seeping out of the side of the ball gag and down your chin, only to drip off of your cheek onto the plush white duvet that adorned your bed. He’d affixed the gag so tightly that all you could do is whimper in his direction.

“Awww, you can do better than that love,” he taunts as he makes his way over to you, “come on. Tell Daddy what you did.” You struggle again, more spit making its way down both cheeks this time as your head follows Henry’s movements until he rests between your feet, thighs barely grazing the bar between them. He peers down at you, slowly taking in your face, the gag with spit bubbling around it, your nipples red and raw from being pinched between metal. His gaze runs lower still, moving to your wrists attached to your ankles, eyes tracking from one ankle to the other, before finally settling on your pussy. Your exposed, swollen, dripping pussy.

Henry grins down at you, cooing, “Look how pretty you look sweetheart. Wish you could see yourself right now.” You give another whimper behind the gag; he’s being entirely too nice right now for how mad he seemed just a few moments ago. He reaches down for the metal chain laying on your chest, connecting the clamps to each other, holding it gently on his pointer and middle fingers, almost as if he’s admiring the linking and shine. He presses the weight of his crotch, still clothed in denim, against the spreader, leaning into you to bring his face just that little bit closer to yours. And then, he bumps his fingers a twice, not hard, but enough to move the clamps. You full blown gasp this time, the pain sending a zing down your spine and making your pussy clench around nothing. You want to feel bad about disobeying him, but when he does things like this to you, you just can’t be bothered.

He releases the chain from his fingers and moves his hands behind your head, loosening the gag a few holes in the buckle, but not completely undoing it. It allows you to get your tongue underneath the gag; you could push it down onto your chin if you wanted to. But you know better than that. Daddy hasn’t told you to yet. He runs his fingertips on his right hand down your left cheek, collecting the spit that had run down the side of it. He brings those same fingertips down to your nipples, gently grazing the small bit that peaks out beyond the clip, knowing you’re sensitive and aching for any sort of stimulating touch. It makes you roll your body, starting in your shoulders and moving down your spine to settle in your hips, and finishing with your hips rotating from side to side, unknowingly trying to shuffle your body farther down to bed to be closer to him. Closer to Daddy.

“Push the gag down, princess.” You do as he says, using your tongue to lift the rubber ball up and pursing your lips to get the ball to slide out and roll down your chin. While you do this, he undoes the clamps and throws them to god knows where, providing you more relief. You gasp, heaving air into your lungs to try and get the feeling of a full breathe. “Now, let’s try that again. What do you have to say for yourself?”

You gulp, continuing to pant, partially because you still feel at a loss for air, but also because you need a moment to weigh your options. You can drag this out, make Henry even more mad and test the limits. Or you can leave well enough alone. You decide the former will have to wait for a different day, one when you’ve steeled your nerves a bit more to take a...heavier handed punishment. Henry had brought a riding crop home a few weeks ago after one of his riding sessions. You hadn’t thought much of it until you’d noticed it in the bedroom closet, and not in the clutter closet by the front door where his riding boots resided. It was then you’d realized it was meant for a much different hide. It hadn’t made its way out of the bedroom closet yet, but knowing him, it would only be a matter of time.

You look up, making full eye contact with him for the first time since he’d entered the room. He quirks his right brow but keeps his jaw set, expecting a damn good answer out of you. “I-I’m sorry, Daddy. I just wanted some attention, a little love from you.” He chuckles, then lifts his palm and gently brings it down against your pussy. It’s not a hard slap, but enough to jolt you. Especially when he makes sure his middle finger grazes your clit on the down stroke. Somehow, you manage to feel yourself getting wetter even though you’re already sopping. “Have I not given you enough attention the last few weeks? I haven’t picked up a script since you arrived. And do I not show you love every minute you are near me? I don’t think that’s what you really wanted. I think you wanted my cock. I think you’re just a little slut who wants to be stuffed full with her Daddy’s cock at every waking moment. Isn’t that right?” He slaps your pussy again, making sure his middle finger makes the same trek past your clit before bringing his hand back up, palm facing you and fingertips down to rub light, teasing circles on your clit. His left hand grabs the spreader bar to steady your ankles.

“Yes, Daddy!”, you squeal, “yes, I’m a slut. I’m your slut, Daddy. I’m s-sorry. I wanted your cock in me. I always do. Always want it.”

“That sounds closer to the truth.”

And with that he plunges two fingers into you without any warning. You throw your head back at the intrusion, not expecting it, but enjoying it nonetheless. There’s no pain involved, not with how wet you are by now. You clamp down on his fingers, pulsing your pussy around his fingers a few times for good measure. He takes that as his queue to start moving, and thrusts his fingers out and back in. He picks up speed with every thrust back in, and soon, the clench and release of your insides isn’t a conscious decision. He leans more of his weight into his left hand, in turn pushing your hips down into the mattress to prevent you from moving, forcing you to take his fingers. You’re moaning with abandon now, flexing your fingers to steady yourself again because you have no other way to ground yourself, keep yourself from cumming, with your hands and ankles bound like this.

“Daddy. Daddy, please. Daddy!” You’re begging him now. Begging him for forgiveness. For release. Everything. Nothing. Henry thrusts his fingers back in, all the way to the where his fingers meet his palm, and stills. “Don’t do it. Not yet. You haven’t begged for my forgiveness enough to deserve it.” With that, he keeps his hand inside you, but brushes his fingers up and down, back and forth. He’s so deep inside of you, nearly petting your cervix with his fingertips, and you’re about to lose it. Your eyes flutter shut while your mouth drops open. You’re dripping in more than one way. At one end, tears drip down your face as you beg him to forgive you. Beg him to let you cum. At the other end, your pussy is dripping onto his palm, running down to his wrist. You’re so fucking close. But not yet. Daddy hasn’t said you can cum.

You look into Henry’s eyes again, trying to communicate how sorry you are. He quirks the side of his mouth up quickly before pulling his fingers almost all the way out and pausing for a second. Then, he launches an all out assault. His fingers piston in and out of you, pressure placed upwards on that spongey spot he knows so well with a back and forth motion. You don’t know how much longer you can stave off your orgasm at this point.

“Daddy, please Daddy, I’m so sorry. Please. I’m so sorry, please, please letmecumletmecumletmecumFUCK!”

“Cum!”

Once he gives you permission, all hell breaks loose. Your body is shuddering, your wrists and ankles bouncing against each other and clanging the clasps against the D rings as you try to release the havoc in your body that your orgasm has caused. Your open mouth let’s out a short, shrill scream, and your pussy releases a shower of fluid onto Henry’s fingers, wrist, and forearm.

As you twitch and come down from your high, he pulls his body back, releasing the weight that was keeping you steady, as well as removing his fingers from inside of you. You’re still laying there, barely paying attention to him because you’re a panting mess of liquid limbs at this point. He looks down at you and smiles.

“You really are so good for me. My sweet girl. Even when you act up, I know you’ll always...cum to your senses eventually.” He brushes hair out of you face that had been clinging because of your tears and sweat.

“Now, what do you say?” You look up, giving him your sweetest smile, and say, “thank you, Daddy.”

He leans down again, putting weight on the bar and making your knees and arms collapse inward, to kiss you. It’s the first time he’s kissed you all day, and you’re savoring the moment. You move your lips slowly against his, opening up a little more as times goes on and you move to brush his tongue with yours. As soon as he feels it, he removes his lips and stands up at full height. He reaches up and pulls his sweater up over his head, and then removes his white undershirt as well. You can’t help but run your gaze over him—he’s letting his hair grow out a bit, a curl just starting to form. He’s rocking a five o’clock shadow as well since he doesn’t have anywhere to be, and he’s in between roles right now, so he’s thick, but still muscular. Just how you prefer him.

Henry reaches down and undoes his pants methodically, first the belt, then the button, then the fly. While he does whip the belt out of the loops and lets it clatter to the floor, he doesn’t shuck his jeans and briefs off entirely. He simply hooks his thumbs under the band of both at once and pulls them down to mid-thigh. It’s enough to give you a peek at his cock from your twisted position though, and you can see that he’s obviously enjoying this as much as you are. He takes a step back from you and reaches down with his left hand to grasp his cock. He slides his hand up and down slowly, pulling the foreskin back on the down slide to expose the deliciously red head of his cock. You want your mouth on it. You want it down your throat, or, at least as much of it as you can take. He’s too big for you to deepthroat the entire thing. But that will have to wait until the next time.

Henry removes his hand and holds his palm up to his mouth. He spits into his hand and reaches back down to coat his dick. “Are you ready for Daddy, sweetheart?” You nod your head and whine. He gently smacks the outside of your right thigh and murmurs “Patience.”

He looks down at you again and then bends his knees while grabbing your hips and pulls you back down to the edge of the bed, your ass nearly hanging off, the only thing keeping you on the bed is the way your weight shifts towards the top of your back with your ankles bound in that direction. Once he’s satisfied, he grabs his cock and brings it up to your pussy. He looks you in the eye while smacking the tip against your clit-you can head the lewd sound it makes with each strike as he hits your wetness. “Daddy, please. Please fuck me.” Your voice catches in your throat as you speak, a clear sign that you’re distressed.

With that, Henry looks back down at where his cock is gliding over your pussy, spits on them, and promptly pushes his cock into you fully without stopping to give you time to adjust. His hips meet your ass, and for what must be the millionth time, you’re in awe of how the hell your body manages to take all of him in you. You’d been scared the first time you’d seen his dick, legitimately concerned that it wouldn’t fit inside you.

Henry bottoms out in you, hips meeting where your ass meets your thighs and resting there. He’s still looking down at where you are joined, where you’re stretched around his dick, providing him with just the right amount of wetness and pressure to send him tumbling over the metaphorical edge if he doesn’t keep it together.

He places both hands on the bar and starts to roll his hips, effectively withdrawing and pushing back into your warmth at an even pace. You close your eyes and moan, “Oh god, yes Daddy. Feel so good,” while savoring each thrust back into your dripping cunt.

“Yes, sweetheart. Look so good like this, tied up and taking my cock, taking everything I give you. You’re so good to me.” He speeds up then, leaning forward onto the bar and starting to piston his hips. He’s grunting, focused on getting you off but also enjoying himself in the process. You’re sensitive from the first orgasm, and you’re quickly building up to another one. He’s not unaware of this, judging by the sounds of your cries the faster he goes. He’s testing you, see if you’ll disobey him and cum without permission just after he’s showered you in praise. You start shifting your hips upward to try and meet him, your mouth opening, getting ready to start begging again for him to let you cum. You’re so close. So fucking close. It doesn’t take much for Daddy to wind you up, to beg him for release. Your tongue snakes out to wet your lips, your lips curling inward to form the P in your next uttered word— “Not yet.”

With that, he lets go of the bar and yanks his dick out of you, taking a step back. You clench around nothing; you were so close. You’re in a daze as he formulates the next shape to form your body into. He steps back up to you and unclips your wrists from your ankles, encouraging you to reach above your head and stretch your arms out, releasing the tension that had built in your muscles from both your mounting orgasm, and remaining in the same position for so long. Next, he unclips the bar from between your ankles and tosses it to the ground. Your limbs fall to your sides, absolutely liquid. He grabs your by your waist and rolls you to your left, heaving you up the bed slightly as well in the process The bed’s a California King, so you still have a mass expanse on either side on you. You’re face down, knees scraping the soft edge of the bed. He completely unbuckles the forgotten ball gag from around your head, making it easier for you to push your face into the fresh, white duvet. The duvet that will surely be streaked with black mascara marks in just a few seconds.

“Hands behind your back, sweetheart.” You do as your told, moving slowly to bring your wrists to the small of your back. He climbs onto the bed to straddle your ass and clips your wrists together while muttering, “Good girl. Such a good slut for me, hm? Just wanna make your Daddy happy. You’d do whatever I told you to do, wouldn’t you?”

You go to lift your head from the bed, ready to answer Henry, when suddenly you feel what must be spit land onto your pussy, and then he’s pushing into you from behind.

You scream.

He’s got your legs pinned together behind his his large, muscular thighs. It makes your channel impossibly tighter, and if he hadn’t already had his cock in your stretching you out, he surely wouldn’t have been able to fit in this position. The friction is incredible for both of you, the confirmation of it voiced in the moans you both let out as soon as he bottoms out. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust or steel yourself against his onslaught. He just goes for it. He’s panting, putting his back into it. You can tell he’s trying to get you to break, testing your nerves. Testing your devotion to him, to being his little slut, his princess, his good girl.

He leans down, lower abdomen pushed against your hands, and you scratch your nails against the trail of hair there, giving yourself something to focus on besides the overwhelming need to cum. “Daddy...Daddy, please. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” It’s the only thing you can get out of your mouth at this point is some form of calling out to him and begging him to pound you into oblivion.

He turns his head to nuzzle you, biting your earlobe before whispering, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Go ahead. You can cum, Daddy wants you to cum for him.” Your fingers curl and pull at the hair on him that you’re still scratching, your hips locking up on his next thrust in and then you feel the trap door fall out from underneath you. You black out for a few seconds; you can’t hear anything he’s saying to you or your own high pitched whines and pants. You can’t feel his right hand petting your hip, easing you through it. All you can feel is the molten pleasure as you come, your hips jerking and pushing back into his lap as you spasm around him.

When you finally come back to your senses, you can still hear him muttering a stream of praises into your ear while thrusting even faster and gripping your hip so tightly you’ll surely bruise by tomorrow. Sweat is dripping down from his forehead onto your back. He’s about to lose it.

You turn your head to try and look at him as best you can with his face still smashed against yours. “Come on Daddy, please give it to me. Wanna make you feel so good. Please cum in me.”

Henry roars, hips and breathe stuttering as he empties inside of you, pushing in as deep as he can possibly get. You love this feeling, when he’s finally let go and focusing on his own pleasure instead of yours. You love listening to him. You love him. When his hips finally come to a stop, you feel him let out a laugh against the back of your neck and then slowly withdraw from your vice grip.

He drops and rolls over to your right, landing on his back and smacking his left hand to his pec. You both turn your faces to the right to look at each other, his gaze directed slightly downward to try and make direct eye contact with you. You grin at him. “Henry...could you uncuff me please?”

He yelps, shuffled up quickly to undo the snaps and removes the cuffs on your wrists. You bring them back in front of you, stretching out and rubbing your wrists as he takes the cuffs off of your ankles as well. Once he’s tossed everything on the floor to be picked up later, he crawls back up on the bed, heading towards the pillows at the top. He rests his back against them, and pats his abs while smiling brightly at you. You crawl up to meet him, leaning on your left arm slipping your right leg between his and placing your right hand on his chest to play with the hair there. You lean up, giving him few pecks before settling back down.

“I really am sorry for annoying you earlier. I just...really like being around you.”

“Oh yeah?”, he says in a slightly mocking tone while curling his lips and raising his eyebrow at you. You roll your eyes, pulling the hair on his chest and then giving his left pec a light slap. You lay your head down on his bicep, curling into his side.

“For the record. I really like being around you too. In fact...I love being around you.”

You smile to yourself, and you feel him turn slightly to kiss the top of your head. While you might not be ready to say it out loud yet, you both know that this feeling, whatever it is, maybe it is love, is real. With you, you feel like you’ve won, even when you lose.

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x reader smut #this is honestly just pure filth im so sorry

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ghostboy-gamedev · 4 years

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Learn Log #4 - Grassy Grove

On week 4 of my pixel art journey, I learned how to make objects of nature including grass, bushes and trees. Unfortunately, I had to postpone this to this week when the learning and blog post was set for last week as I was just preparing for a return to university (it’s all online – social distancing dw). Anyway, I ended up making the forest scene you see above, and it was a lot of fun. I think that the GUI elements last week had a focus on technicality and exactness. Letters are very rigid, and we have somewhat set ideas about what each character should look like. However, nature is more flexible and therefore logic isn’t as heavily involved.

Tile Sets

Before jumping into the actual elements of this week’s piece I want to talk about making pixel art tiles. You will have probably noticed that the nature scene is quite rigid like each element is set into a box. This is because I’m learning pixel art to make games and games often use tile sprites to build their environment.

Tile sprites are the floors and sometimes walls of the environment. They often loop or repeat to cover the environment, however, some engines have tools allowing game designers to build environments tile by tile.

In the first case, the tile sprite will have to be created with its looping in mind and details may be added to provide variation in the environment. However, these added details may highlight the repeating the pattern and the more a detail sticks out the obvious the repetition becomes. Additionally, smaller tiles will repeat more frequently, and this also shows repeating textures.

The second scenario requires variation to be created from the creation of multiple tiles. This is great for creating variation; however, the tiles will also have to line up with each other which may be trickier for more rigid surfaces like rocks or bricks.

Since Unity has a tile builder tool and I was creating a natural environment where tiles wouldn’t need to line up so clearly – I decided to go with the second option.

The size of the tiles may also dictate the size of the rest of the game. For example, a bush may be 1 tile large in terms of level design, so the size of that bush is determined by the size of the tile. This also goes for the player whose sprite will typically range from 1 tile to 2x2 tiles. I decided to just make my tiles 16x16 as I enjoy learning within that space.

Grass

A grass tile is typically made of a green background with blades of grass texturing the surface. Many people may open up a couple of green canvases and start texturing them with green lines, however, there’s a much better way to do things I think. Since we’re working with 16x16 tiles there’s a limited number of shapes that look like grass and are small enough to fit within the tile. So, if we make a bunch of lines in green then we have blades of grass that we can copy and paste into each tile (the blades should typically be a lighter green as light will be hitting them).

However, having blades of grass like this make tiles look flat. Adding shading will fix this issue by giving the grass depth, however, more complicated shading will obviously make the background more complicated which can affect the readability of your game.

Each blade of grass can now be copied into a 16x16 canvas to make grass tiles. I made 4 grass tiles shown below putting approximately 10 blades into each tile. I made each tile with different elements of the environment in mind such as short grass, long grass, bushy grass and leafy grass.

With these tiles, I created a larger image to test the repetition of the tiles. The repetition wasn’t a big issue; however, I didn’t think the leafy grass fit with the rest of the grass, so I decided to leave it behind for the next stage.

Next, I was going to add an extra tile for each of the current textures to reduce repetition as well as two flower variants for each tile type to add some colours into the textures. I did another test of the tiles’ repetition and overall look and it looked good but somewhat cluttered though I figured that this wouldn’t be an issue when I deliberately place the tiles rather than randomly scatter them.

I had in my mind the type of scene I wanted to make for this week, but it required dirt paths. Luckily this wasn’t an issue to make. I made two variations of the straight, one-way paths as they would be tiling and altered one of these tiles slightly to make the curve and intersection tiles.

I then assembled these 15 tiles into the image below.

Trees

Next, I wanted to add some plant life which would involve trees and bushes. I decided to do trees first as they would be larger than the bushes. First, I started with the shape of the tree which would be fairly basic. I made a rough tree trunk shape to start with and topped it with a circle that was a little squished before refining the shape a little more to get what’s shown below.

I then added colour into the tree. A simple brown for the bark and 4 shades of green for the leaves. These greens were made by colour picking the base green background and hue-shifting it towards yellow so the tree would stand out more from the background.

The colours are organised into ovals to help give the tree a sense of depth. The dark shades wrap around the edges of the tree to show the tree’s roundness. The colour thins out as it goes around because you’re viewing the shaded leaves from a side-on perspective.

Next, I blurred the lines between these circles by mixing the colours slightly. This was the start of adding leaves onto the tree. Quickly after that, I added more detail to the leaves by spotting the head of the tree with lighter greens. The details added were in ‘leaf-like’ shapes like hearts, single lines, and arrows. They don’t look like leaves individually and can’t receive much detail themselves (such as a stem) but together they make the tree look nice and bushy. I also added some detail to the tree trunk including shading.

The tree trunk seemed a little off when I checked it out with the image I had so far, unfortunately. So, I added some extra trunk at the bottom along with a nice shadow. This shadow was the colour black at a transparency of 127 (or half transparency). This works really well as a quick and easy shadow on detailed background, but it does, unfortunately, mean the shaded area is not hue-shifted as typically preferred. The final product is below.

Looking at this sprite you may think it would be difficult to construct a game environment due to the leaves, trunk shape and shadow involved. However, we can place each section down as a separate 16x16 tile with the main trunk tile being a collider and other tiles not having a collision box (like decoration tiles – we don’t want players to run into tree leaves). This works out really well, and I focused on the main trunk tile when positioning the sprite in the piece. Which is shown below.

However, the scene below is bit lonely so I thought I’d add some pine trees as a level border. The process of the pine tree is similar so I won’t describe each step but will show the images. This time around I did shape the tree a bit more wildly with branches and leaves sticking out from the tree. I also hue shifted towards bluer colours rather than the more yellow colours I used in the round tree.

Next, it was time to add more trees into the scene and add some grass beneath them. I made the grass beneath them short grass simply because it looks a bit neater than the other grass types.

I think it looks pretty neat! I made a pine tree variant by swapping the colours with that of the round tree for some variation which worked as a nice, easy trick. But it would look livelier with some bushes.

Bushes

You might have looked at the trees just before and thought, ‘That kind of looks like a bush on a stump.’ That’s because the techniques used to make bushes and trees are typically very similar depending on the style of the game. Since we’re using a 16x16 size which is somewhat limited they will likely turn out in roughly the same way.

I started with a circle shape that was modified at the bottom to be a bit flatter. This will hopefully give the impression that the bush is touching the ground and rounds out on the top

I did a similar process in colouring the bush as I did with the tree, however, I used fewer colours as I didn’t have as much room for highlights with the bush. The colours used are actually the same as those in the pine tree.

I then adjusted the outline to give the bush a wilder feel as well as texturing the inside of the bush to create the appearance of leaves.

The bush still felt a little flat, so I added highlights to the top of it to add a greater sense of depth. The highlight was rounded towards its end at the bottom to enforce the rounded nature of the bush. This required me to add another outline tone for highlights which I might apply to other elements of the picture. I was pretty happy with the bush, so I made another for variation and added them into the picture with some shadows.

The picture looked pretty good, but I thought some touch-ups might make it just that little bit better.

Touch-Ups/Conclusion

To touch up the piece I added some more trees for denser looking forest, added the lighter outline colour to the tress and expanded shadows around some of the pine trees. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. I think the shadows could use some refinement at the top border of trees. I also think that top border highlights the repeating pine tree trunk which could also be changed to tile better. I do wish my bushes were a bit leafier than shrub-like, however, I think my ability to make leaves on both bushes and trees will improve as I practice. I also think a 32x32 base picture would allow me to make some more defined leaves. The lighting on the pine trees also uses a different technique to the round tree so next time I’ll try to be more consistent with that. Overall though I’m happy and I quite like the outline highlights as they make the image a bit softer.

That concludes week 4 of learning how to make pixel art. Next week I’ll be looking at sand, water and rocks to make a top-down beach scene.

My learning and this blog post wouldn’t have been made possible without these fantastic resources. Go check them out if you wanna learn some stuff about pixel art!

How to Draw Tiled Pixel Art by TipTut

Creating Variation in Pixel Art TutsByKai

Pixel Art 101: Grass by Pixel Pete

How to Make Pixel Grass Tiles by TutsByKai

RPG Grass Background Tiles by HeartBeast

Pixel Art 101: Trees by Pixel Pete

[Let’s Pixel] Tree by HeartBeast

[Let’s Pixel] Spruce Tree by HeartBeast

Pixel Art 101: Bush by Pixel Pete

#pixel art #learning #gamedev #pixel aesthetic #pixel #gaming #learn

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Alice of Human Sacrifice

[Tour]

title has absolutely nothing to do with the fic, i just listened to the song again and thought it sounded cool

Tw: Suicidal thoughts, skin picking

———————

Howard found her collapsed on the ground, face-down, like the dead bodies in those forensic shows Bessie liked to watch. She was bent in the way the bodies usually were, too, with her arms crooked and elbows pointing out, and her knees at an awkward angle. And, also like those bodies, she wasn’t moving at all.

She could leave. Howard has just come back into the theater for the book she had forgotten. She could leave and pretend she hadn’t seen anything. This was not her problem.

And yet, she was stepping forward from the hallway and into the cluttered dressing room.

She kept telling her, what if this was her on the floor? She would want someone to help her. She wouldn’t want to be left all alone with whatever ailment had caused her to blackout in the first place.

“Joan?” She called out.

The girl on the floor didn’t budge.

Howard crouched down next to her and gently nudged her arm.

“Joan. Are you there? Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

Howard pursed her lips. Carefully, she rolled Joan onto her back.

Joan wasn’t as filled out as she used to be. Even in her past life, Joan was thin, but at least her face wasn’t as lean as it was now, with sharp jawbones and deep hollows under her eyes. She looked so frail, sickly even, as Anne had once said. While unconscious, that comment seemed so much more accurate.

Joan did look ill. She was paler than usual, making the bags under her eyes and the flush on her nose and cheeks appear even darker. A slight fever was lit beneath her skin when Howard felt her forehead.

That contact was what finally roused her.

“Joan?” Howard peered down at the icy blue eyes peeking out from behind fluttering eyelids. “Joan, it’s Katherine. Are you alright?”

Joan mumbled something incomprehensible. Her head lolled across the ground as she blearily stared up at the ceiling. She still didn’t appear all that there.

“Joan.” Howard shook her slightly. “Come on, Joan. Wake up.”

“...c-can’t...”

It was such a weak, pathetic reply that Howard couldn’t even muster up the effort to be annoyed. The girl below her was just so damn pitiful. She couldn’t snap at her when she was being looked at with those big, dumb eyes.

“I-I’m sorry...” Joan croaked.

Her eyes then rolled to the back of her head and she once again fell into a pit of unconsciousness.

Just leave her. A crueler, more repressed side of Howard whispered. She isn’t your problem.

She hates how she considers it. But it was true. As pitiful as she was, Joan wasn’t anyone close to her. She didn’t care about her like she cared about the other queens or Bessie. She wasn’t anyone’s special to her.

So why was she picking Joan up? Why was she carrying her to her car and carefully putting her in the back seat? Why was she putting herself through the hassle of going to the hospital? And why did she care?

———

Hiding her problems from the others was easier than she expected it to be.

She thinks, as some point, that they did their best to make her feel included and a part of the group, but they’ve given up since then. They’ve marked her as a lost cause and have moved on. And Joan doesn’t blame them.

She was falling deeper and deeper into depression as the days went by.

She can’t remember when it started, she just knows it came about from lack of attention and lack of love and lack of friendship and lack of everything. And that was pathetic.

Above all else, she seeked the approval of others. Why couldn’t she function without it? Why has she turned into such a mess?

What’s happening to her?

She stopped eating awhile ago. The hunger pains are awful, but at least nobody paid enough attention to her to hear the desperate growls of her stomach. Sleep went next, and then speaking to others, and then water.

On top of depriving her body of all of its basic needs, she’s taken to overworking herself after practice or shows were over. She’d tell everyone that she’s just staying to work on new songs or mixes, and it’s not like they think much of it or care, but she’s constantly pushing herself to the point where she can’t breathe during a simple rehearsal of No Way.

(Let’s see if you can hold your breath for the entirety of All You Wanna Do, Her mind will sometimes whisper.)

Another nasty habit that had come back was her skin picking. Picking wasn’t an act of needing attention, like she knew she would be accused of if people found out, it was more of an act to get adrenaline, to escape the constant pain and anxiety that thrummed through her body on the daily. Letting her fingernails carve off pieces of her skin, scratching away the dead, bad parts of her, deeper and deeper each time, just released the most amazing endorphins that she couldn’t even begin to explain. It was like she was floating. And it was the only thing that made her slightly happy anymore, as disgusting as that may have seemed.

She soon created a ritual for herself. After working her body to almost complete fatigue, she would stand in front of her mirror, take off her shirt, and stare at her body. She would name the few things that she had started to like in her head then list all of the bad things she needed to get rid of.

Disgusting.

Freak.

Outcast.

Pathetic.

Words would swim through her head, blinding her by the intensity of the emotion in those words. These were words that she saw some fans write on posts she would make, whether they be piano covers or, more embarrassingly, song covers. Those always got the most backlash- “u sound like shit” “why are you even trying? You’ll never be as good as the queens” “Are you trying to one-up the queens?” “Why are you singing Katherine’s song? That’s so rude!! It’s not about you!! You’re awful!” “my ears are bleeding!!!!”- and everything that was said piled up in her head, even after she frantically deleted the posts.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the positive comments when they came about, they brought tears to her eyes by the sincerity in them. But those dozens of people who hated her... She just couldn’t take it. It’s helped drive her down a terrible path of destruction that she can’t seem to get off. All she ever wanted was to prove to the queens and other ladies that she was worthy of their attention, their love, their praises. But now she’s turned herself into some self destructive freak that will never, ever be loved.

Still, she wonders why someone is touching her. And carrying her.

She can feel their arms supporting her and she leaned into their warmth. She wanted to call out to them, to thank them, to beg them to never let her go, but she can’t speak and blackness is starting to encompass the little vision she has left...

———

Howard doesn’t know how long she waits in the lobby of the A and E, but it’s definitely long enough for the man sitting to her far left to stop bleeding from the large gash on his arm and consider just leaving. He doesn’t, although Howard can see her weigh out the options in his eyes.

There’s other people in pretty rough shape in there- a sick young man in the corner looking like he regretted every decision he’s ever made in his entire life; a teenager who /didn’t/ regret every decision he’s ever made in his entire life, but definitely wished he didn’t go with a stick-and-poke method of getting a tattoo; a quiet-looking girl who stared at the white walls around her with wide eyes and also had her right arm horribly limp at her side; someone whose jaw was unhinged like a snake...there were enough characters in this place to make an entire circus.

Eventually, she was called, so she scooped Joan up from where she had her slumped in the chair beside her and followed the nurse into the back. Then, after Joan is set up in one of the rooms, it’s back to waiting.

She was /really/ starting to wish she had just left Joan. This was ridiculous!

A buzz snapped Howard out of her trance. She blinked and squinted at her phone, which she had been mindlessly scrolling through, and saw that she had gotten a text from Anne on the group chat they were in with the other queens.

Anne: where r u?

She had completely forgotten to tell the others about her impromptu caretaker status.

Katherine: Passcode question: What’s my favourite drink?

What? She may as well TRY to entertain herself while she’s sitting here rotting away.

Anne: come on, kit, i gave u the code this morning. i don’t think the answer has changed in the twelve hours since we spoke.

Anna: is this just a thing you two do???? i’ve never gotten a passcode before

Katherine: Passcode question: What’s my favourite drink?

Anne: fine!

Anne: raspberry tea with lemon

Anne: happy?

Katherine: Very.

Katherine: I’m at the A and E.

Anne: WHAT

Aragon: What happened?

Jane: Are you alright?!

Anna: woah woah woah are you okay?!?!

Cathy: Are you okay?

Anne: KAT ANSWER US NOW

Howard smiled to herself. It was nice to have people that cared so much about her.

Katherine: Calm down, I’m fine! I just had to take Joan and now I have to stay here until she’s done being examined or something. I found her collapsed on the floor.

There was a momentary pause from all parties.

Aragon: Oh dear.

Jane: Poor Kitty. Having to stay in such a place for so long. Hopefully you can leave soon!

Anna: oh that kinda sucks. having to stay awhile. they take FOREVER.

Anne: what if i came and picked u up? i can smuggle u out so u don’t have to stay!!

Howard blinked. How weird. None of them seemed to be worried about Joan at all.

Katherine: What about Joan?

Anne: what about her?

She toiled over the option in her head- finally going home would be nice. She was quite hungry and had been looking forward to the weekly movie night that night. It was her turn to pick!

But she couldn’t leave. She had already given the hospital all her information, so they’d probably find a way to drag her back. And she couldn’t leave Joan.

Katherine: As much as I want to, I can’t.

Anne: hm. suit urself.

It was at that moment when Howard’s name was called. She tucked her phone away and got up to meet the nurse standing at the back doorway.

“Joan is stable,” The nurse explained after they took a peek into the room the music director was being kept in. Joan somehow looked even more vulnerable in a hospital bed, caught in a tangle of wires and tubes. “We have her on fluids right now so she’ll get rehydrated. She’ll be able to leave soon.”

Howard nodded, her heart leaping with relief. However, it was stamped back down when the nurse went on speaking.

“But she will need to be taken home and watched over.” The nurse said. She looked Howard up and down. “You said you were a coworker, yes? Do you know if any of her family members are willing to come get her?”

“Oh, uhh...” Howard had no idea how to explain that she and Joan both were actually reincarnated beings from the 1500s and not just some people who happen to have the same names as the past queen of England and a lady in waiting. “It’s not really the best situation...”

“Ah,” The nurse nodded, seemingly buying the excuse, which wasn’t exactly a lie. “I see. Well, does she have any friends?”

Howard struggled not to grimace, but the nurse seemed to notice.

“What about you? Can you take her?”

“Me?” Howard blinked. “Well-“

“She won’t be able to leave until someone picks her up,” The nurse continued. “We’ll have to keep her here until we know someone can watch over her for a few days.”

Howard bit her lip. If the nurse was trying to guilt her into taking care of Joan, then it was definitely working.

She sighed. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

———

Joan’s apartment was exactly what Howard was expecting- bare, cold, and empty, aside from all the necessities. There were no potted plants or decorations or photos. The walls were just plain cream against regular pieces of furniture. Dreary grey and ugly brown and plain white splattered the flat, which almost seemed more like a cell.

No wonder Joan was so miserable.

“W-well, umm...” Joan looked very anxious- it’s the only expression that’s been on her face since she woke up in the hospital. “I-I could- y-you- umm...”

It was so sad. How could someone be so nervous all the time? Surely it wasn’t healthy.

“Just sit down, dear,” Howard pressed Joan down onto the couch. “I’m going to take care of you, so there’s no need to stress yourself out.”

“There’s every reason to be stressed,” Joan mumbled, worriedly wringing her hands in her shirt. “I— I should make you something to eat!”

She’s on her feet in an instant, instantly wobbling treacherously on her weak legs. Howard lunged out and steadied her.

“Woah there!” She said. “Joan, take it easy. You’re not well.”

“But you need to eat,” Joan reprimanded. “A-and so do I...”

“Then I’ll cook for you.”

“N-no,” Joan whispered softly. “No, Katherine, p-please- I need to do this. I need to be useful.”

Howard frowned, then sighed. “Alright.”

They soon got to work. As they did so, Howard noticed Joan loosen up a little. Despite the girl looking completely exhausted, she seemed to be slightly more happy than she was before, relaxed with the presence of another person.

“So...” Howard started awkwardly. She didn’t know what to talk about with this girl. “How have you, uhh...been?”

“Fins... WELL.”

Words more or less began to fly from Joan’s mouth like uncovered popcorn on a hot surface. It seemed like she had been bottling up a lot, or maybe she was just afraid of not getting to talk fully if she didn’t speak fast enough.

Poor kid, Howard thought, She must be so lonely.

“Yesterday was shit.” Joan spit, and Howard was slightly stunned to hear the usually very timid and quiet girl swear, “I fucked up another thing at work because I’ve been so drowsy and the stage manager said it was okay pretty much only because he understood that this was a—“ She paused to do air quotes with her fingers. “—‘rough time' for me. And I thought that was literally the stupidest understatement I've ever heard so I was thinking about it all day and getting really mad and then, like, out of nowhere I thought, dude, it IS a fucking rough time for me, and I decided to do something nice and fun and go out and buy groceries like my—“ She paused again to do quotation marks again, although, this time, it made the statement being quoted a little more sketchy, “—‘therapist’ said I should, but then I accidentally told the cashier that I loved her instead of saying thank you and now I’m never going back there ever again, and than I started thinking about THAT all day and then, well— I guess I passed out? Because you found me...and helped me... Oh, thanks, by the way! I, ahh, honestly thought you would have left me. But you didn’t! So yay! Thank you! Also, do you like oatmeal?”

Everything came at Howard so fast her mind had to scramble to process everything.

The first thing that registered in her mind, however, was Joan’s final comment- about her not leaving her. A feeling of guilt welled up inside of her.

But then Joan flashed a rare grin at her and she couldn’t help but smile as well.

In stark contrast to the (relatively) sharply-dressed girl the woman met a year ago, Joan was dressed in baggy sweatpants and an even baggier shirt with the words “Trust me, I’m a doctor” and a picture of a plague doctor on it, which has been the clothes she had found her unconscious in. The head poking out at the top had hair that was sticking out in all directions. It made her look smaller and lankier than she was. Younger, too. Sometimes Howard had a hard time believing she was college aged.

The sight made Howard’s heart ache in realization because it was a reminder of how unfair everything she’d gone through was. It wasn’t until that moment that she really remembered that Joan had watched her die.

“That’s a lot,” Howard finally said, then glanced over at the pot bubbling on the stove. “So...oatmeal?”

“Aaaaand cinnamon toast!”

“You’ve got everything sorted out, huh?”

“Pretty sure,” Joan said, “I’ve, umm...kinda been thinking about what I’d want to eat if friends were ever over.” She blushed shyly, messing with the hem of her shirt.

Once again, Howard’s heart ached.

How long has this girl been alone...?

“Wanna help with the toast?”

“Y’know, I make a pretty mean cinnamon toast.”

A crooked grin replaced the plaintive look Joan had been wearing, and she turned around to pick up a loaf of bread. “You know I’m not gonna believe that until I taste it, right?”

“Heh. Guess I’d better back up the claim, then.”

Joan beamed magnanimously and handed Howard the loaf, which she set down on a nearby cutting board. With a rumbly clearing of the throat, Howard pushed her sleeves up and rubbed her hands together.

“Alright. Melt a little butter in the microwave and grab that cinnamon I see over there. If I’m gonna make this bread, I’m gonna do it right.”

“Yes ma’am!”

They set to work with a bustle as Howard cut the bread and Joan retrieved the necessary ingredients and dropped them on the counter next to her, pausing every so often to check on the oatmeal bubbling on the stove.

“Hey, you mind if I unmute the TV or put on some music or something? I need some background noise.” Joan said after a while, nodding in the direction of the radio on the counter and then glancing momentarily at the TV.

“Sure,” Howard said, “Just keep it down so we don’t disturb the neighbors. And none of that skippity-bop or whatever it is you kids listen to. I don’t have the stomach for that.”

She was teasing Joan by acting older than she actually was, and the sickened look the girl gave her was completely worth it. Howard bursted into laughter.

“It’s called hip hop , Howard. God. I know you aren’t THAT old! What are you, twenty-two?”

“You are now my new favorite.”

Joan beamed at that then padded over to the radio. She began tuning it to different kinds of music stations until a thumping electric beat started to pulse in the air.

“You want the neighbors to think you’re holding a dance party or something?”

“Maybe I do!”

Howard chuckled. “Can you grab a tray I can stick these on?”

“Yeah!”

Joan bent down to retrieve a baking tray from the clutter of pans in a lower drawer, and by the time she’d straightened up, she already had another idea.

“Oh man! You know what’d be great? I have about five billion kinds of lettuce in the fridge because I was dumb and went shopping while I was hungry the other day. We should have a salad! Caesar! With croutons and crap!”

“You can leave the crap off of mine, thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” Joan hissed playfully. “Here’s the tray. I’ll go start watching the lettuce!”

Joan threw open the fridge and leaned in, gathering armfuls of vegetables. Howard watched this with a fond shake of the head before returning to her own task. It sent a pang through her chest, brushing the butter and sugar and cinnamon across the fluffy bread like she vaguely had all those centuries ago, before her life turned into a spiral of unwanted sex and grabbing hands and unreceived loads of semen...but it wasn’t so bad. Being in a bright kitchen and listening to music she’d never willingly put on of her own volition was miles better than trying to do the same thing in her own one. She had the queens now, too. She wasn’t alone. And, with Joan around and doing this with her...Howard felt like a mother.

A timer buzzed and she sidled over herself, seeing as Joan was already occupied. When she stood straight again after sliding the pan of bread into its place, she wiped the sweat from her brow and looked back over to her young chef companion— only to find her rocking and head-bobbing in place as she shredded lettuce with her bare hands, tossing it into the bowl in time to the punchy music on the radio. Howard found herself shaking her head again, this time in amusement.

“Glad you’re happier than you were when we first got here.”

(It wasn’t just when she found her- Joan always looked like she had been hit by a truck with acid wheels, her remains were burned by a flamethrower, and then she was poorly put back together.)

“Mm,” Joan replied distractedly, snapping her fingers jauntily to the tune. “I'm not, actually. I’m just kinda faking it ‘till I make it. You know?”

“Oh,” Said Howard, suddenly feeling very worried. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“S’okay. Means I’m doing it right.”

Before Howard had a chance to ask if she was okay with her Mummy Voice, as Bessie has dubbed it, the song on the radio changed and Joan’s eyes lit up.

“Oh man! I love this song!”

She flung the last of the lettuce leaves into the bowl and started to dance even more enthusiastically (and goofily), pumping her fists in the air.

“Wait, don’t tell me this is-“

“It’s Smash Mouth! The ballad of the 90s! Shrek’s theme song! You’ve seen Shrek, Bessie said she made you watch it with her last month. C’mon, dance with me!"

The worry quickly became a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

“Joan, I don’t think-”

“Come on! You dance all the time in the show! And you don’t have to break a hip or anything, just move around a little! It’s impossible to be completely bummed when you’re dancing.”

Howard closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Then started to slowly step side to side.

“—Aw man, NO. Is that the Carlton? NO.”

“Hey, you whelp, don't make fun. There is NOTHING wrong with the Carlton."

“NOPE. Not allowed! Jazz it up a lil!”

Finally succumbing to deep laughter, the queen found herself picking up her feet and turning in place. And, as an afterthought, even threw in some jazz hands.

After all, what could it hurt?

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segersgia · 4 years

Text

Looking back: Part 4 - Primaris Space Marines - Vanguard Infantry

When the Reiver was introduced at the beginning of 8th edition, it was only a small taste of what we were getting. The Vanguard Space Marines were revealed during the Vigilus storyline alongside a new Chaos Space Marine release.

I remember there being a big divide upon their inclusion. For some they were way too “Tacti-cool” and didn’t really fit the Warrior Monk aesthetic of the rest of the range. Others welcomed them with open arms as they were an embodiment of what Space Marines should be in the first place.

But what are Vanguard Space Marines?

The Vanguard Astartes:

Vanguard Space Marines encompass the different Primaris Space Marine units that are trained in reconnaissance and covert missions. They usually are deployed behind enemy lines and operate as assassins or saboteurs. Most of their units wear Phobos Armour; a more light pattern of gear that allows their servos and machinery to run almost silent. This does mean that they are way less armoured, so they can’t charge willy-nilly into enemy fire.

What makes these units interesting is the fact that they train in the arts of survival and self sufficiency. Vanguard Astartes don’t have the luxury of a swift strike. Their missions order them to be deployed for very long amounts of time without any form of backup. No orbital strikes. No supply drops. No swift extraction when things get tough. They only get what they’ve brought with them.

Guilliman apparently liked these units so much that he adapted the Codex Astartes so that they could accommodate the Vanguard Marines into the rest of their ranks. Now, the 10th Company, instead of only being consisted of Scout Marines, counts around 100 Vanguard Space Marines, proving once again that the Codex Astartes’ “1000 men per Chapter”-limit is filled with loopholes.

This doesn’t mean that all Vanguard Marines come from the 10th Company. All Primaris Marines have, at some point in their career, trained to use the full arsenal of the Vanguard force. It may also happen that when Marines of a Reserve Company are needed to assist the Battle Companies, they will don Phobos Armour. This means you can most certainly find Vanguard Marines in any Company.

Obviously, Chapters differ, so some might not have any Vanguard Marines at all, while some might have completely turned into a “Vanguard Chapter”. They are your army, and you can do whatever you want with them.

Let’s look at their infantry units.

Infiltrators:

Infiltrators are the Battleline unit of the Vanguard Marines, tasked with the disruption of enemy communications and the sabotage of certain targets. To help them in their duties, they have something called Omni-Scramblers strapped to their back; devices that can intercept enemy communications and scramble their frequencies.

When they eventually do strike a target, they do so under the volley of the Bolt Carbines and an absolutely ridiculous amount of Smoke Grenades.

Because of their prolonged time behind enemy lines, they need someone to tend their wounds. For this, they have the Helix Adept (depicted on the right). These are Space Marines who are trained by the Chapter’s Apothecarion, yet aren’t full Apothecaries. They can only perform general Medical duties in combat and the extraction of Space Marine gene-seed. This is necessary since the lack of outside support means that the loss of gene-seed is an even more likely scenario.

FINALLY! Good looking helmets!!! And they resemble the helmets of their Firstborn brethren. I really wished these were the helmets that all of the Primaris would’ve gotten. I love these units just because of this alone.

I do admit that they have flaws. Their carbines are way too cluttered with scopes and their armour looks a little too plain without the smoke grenades and extra pouches. The Start Collecting box is therefore a way better kit in my opinion to get.

But I really like a lot of what I’m seeing. The extra gear like the pouches, grenades and the Vox-Scramblers adds a lot to their design and it fits with their “self-sufficient” background. They are very well posed; with options for both a battle ready or a stationary stance. They actually hold pistols with two hands. The Helix Adept I specifically like because they still have their Narthecium, something that the new Primaris Apothecaries sadly lack. I do find it weird that you can’t have the Helix Adept outside of the Start Collecting box, being replaced by an Infiltrator with a Comms Array. Maybe we will see a Helix Adept come up in a different kit. I would welcome a kit of Vanguard Specialists and HQs.

8/10

Eliminators

Eliminators are your classic sniper unit. Dedicated marksmen tasked with the “elimination” of high value targets. They do have a variety of roles depending in which Company they serve. When they are part of a Vanguard Force, they act as protectors of their brethren, making sure that they remain safe by eliminating targets that could endanger the rest of their force, such as enemy snipers or artillery emplacements. When they are part of a normal strike force, they are deployed as assassins, scouting ahead of the main line and murdering enemy HQ.

Eliminators wear an even more stripped down version of Phobos Armour, meaning they are even more sneakier than the rest. The Camo-Cloaks they wear are coated with something called Cameleoline (very cool name). This substance allows the fabric to take on the overal colour of their surroundings. Their main form of weapon is a Shrike Pattern Bolt Sniper Rifle, but they may also replace these with a Las-Fusil or an Instigator Bolt Carbine. Depending on their target, they can switch and choose between different forms of amunition. Finally, to help them find hiding targets, they have a variety of visors and Auspexes that allow stuff like heat-vision and the ability to see through meter-thick walls. They can perform Wall-hacks.

These are such an ace looking unit. There is absolutely nothing bad to say about them. They blow the rest of the vanguard range out of the water. The Cameleoline Cloaks work so well and I wished that these came standard with Phobos Armour. It would certainly help stick a better identity to the Vanguard Marines. Their poses make them look very menacing and professional. What I like the most out of these is the amount of customization. They have so many different heads and weapons that makes them all very unique.

10/10

Suppressors:

Suppressors are tasked with supporting the rest of their army through the means of covering fire. They wear Omnis Armour; a pattern of armour that mixes Indomitus Armour with the boots of Gravis Armour.

How they work is that they can leap at great speeds and jump great heights thanks to the Grav-Chutes and Jump Packs they carry on their backs. They use this to quickly and aggressively take a position over the enemy and providing covering fire. This allows them to quickly change positions on a whim and prevent the enemy of adapting to their assaults.

Once they have a favourable position, they will engage and open fire with their Accelerator Autocannon. Their Jump Packs allow them to fire them without too many problems and the guns are capable of penetrating armoured infantry and light vehicles.

This one was seemingly a very decisive unit and I must admit that this is a guilty pleasure of mine. I really like the concept of the unit; it sounds like something the T’au would come up with. They have a very “Gundam” design and that is definitely not a bad thing. The Autocannon looks intimidating and this version of their armour is a nice mix between the different patterns. I love the design of the helmet and I don’t even have a problem with the Boot-Plates; they look way better on this unit than on the Inceptors.

I have two main problems with this unit; the Jump Pack and the pose. For one, the design of this model and the lore that describes it doesn’t justify in any way a flying stand. If this model was just posed on the ground, it would work so much better. Second, I don’t like the design of the Jump Pack, at least not for something that is supposed to fly. I would rather see the original Jump Pack on this model.

So what this unit needs is to either stay on the ground, or be equipped with a different Jump Pack. Either or both would work.

7/10

Incursors:

Incursors are a Primaris unit that is focused on close-quarters gun-fighting. It seems that they are a mixture between a Reiver and an Infiltrator; seemingly performing the same roles as the latter, but with a much more straightforward approach. They attack strategic enemy positions and destroy their most important assets, such as generators or communication devices. The Haywire Mines they carry help them in destroying enemy armour.

What makes them special is their war-gear. They arm themselves with Occulus Bolt Carbines and are equipped with Divinator Auspexes, both of which feed information directly into their combat visors. This technology allows them to see just about everything. They can see through walls, smoke and can work in the dark.

But wait! There’s more. The Auspexes can predict the trajectory of incoming drop troops, and the emergence of tunneling troops like Genestealer Cults. It can spot energy signatures within the area were teleporting units will appear. It can even during combat, predict the way enemies will attack.

Also, apparently, this is not a Vanguard unit. It is not very clear what they are, similarly to the Reiver, which is somewhat of a “Schrodingers Vanguard Marine”. It might just be the case that not every Marine in Phobos Armour is a Vanguard Marine.

I hate this unit...

I hate absolutely everything about this unit. I hate its lore. I hate its weapons, I hate its poses. I hate its dumb visor and its Auspexes. I hate everything it stands for. It is such an unnecessary unit that feels so overpowered and without any actual purpose. You would expect with a unit specialized in the neutralization of strategic assets, that it would be more focused on explosives or sapping and be geared towards that. The Haywire Mines are the only thing that would suggest such a role.

3/10

——–

That’s it. Outside of the Incursor, the Vanguard range is in my opinion a very fine addition to the range, at least when it comes to their design. Now that we are seeing Space Marines getting a new codex in October, I’m hoping that their lore becomes a little bit more streamlined. I don’t need to read three codices to figure out if Reivers are part of the Vanguard or not.

Next up, I’m tackling the Infantry units of the Chaos Space Marines. It feels balanced to divide the overviews like this: Imperium/Chaos/Xenos.

Afterwards, I’m tackling the new miniatures that the Drukhari got.

‘Till next time.

previous posts: Primaris Mainline Infantry, Death Guard Infantry, Craftworld Aeldari

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #Space Marines #Review #8th edition #Range overview #Primaris Space Marines #Vanguard Space Marines #Vanguard Primaris #Primaris #Infantry #warhammer #rating #Adeptus Astartes

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blobbyclouds · 5 years

Note

Ok so this is kind of out there but I cant get the image out of my head of a human who runs a smuggling ring for androids? kind of like rose but a bit of a bigger scale, and maybe some of the deviants falling in love with the human who smuggles them out? I've got my eyes on Ralph and Jerry in particular but if you only wanna do one just Ralph is good! Sorry it's a lot hfdudivnueiwn and thank you if you do this one!

idk why the image is so big oof This is a really good idea, thanks for the request! I did my best to incorporate the second part in, so I hope it turned out like you were hoping

warnings: minor violence

—

Ralph clung to their hand with an iron grip. It was almost painful, but they could understand his nerves — one wrong move and both of them would be caught. After all their time spent helping androids cross the border, they weren’t so easily susceptible to stress as others were. Each time was a bit different, but there was a steady routine that they and everyone else followed through to make sure every android crossed the border safely.

But despite their expertise in navigating the border, just one mistake had resulted in them being left behind. The boat was already pulling out of the dock, filled with all the refugees except for them. They were stuck in a dark alleyway, tucked behind a dumpster and a chain link fence.

“Ralph is so sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Ralph didn’t mean for—”

“You’re okay, Ralph,” they said. “You couldn’t control the fact that the police decided to change their patrol routes.” They sighed, rubbing their forehead with the hand Ralph wasn’t clinging to. They were still mentally kicking themselves for not thinking that the police would change their patrol routes eventually, thus cutting them off from the boat just a second too soon.

“What are we going to do?” he asked. As with most things, Ralph looked to them for guidance. Even from the beginning, Ralph had greatly favored them over the other humans who smuggled androids.

They chewed on their lip as they weighed their options. “Obviously, the boat isn’t an option,” they said. They patted Ralph’s shoulder as they felt him tense up again. As one of the few people he was comfortable with touching, he relaxed at the motion. “We need to get out of here. There are other ways to get across the border. They’ll take longer, but we’ll get to them.”

After peaking around each corner, they began to lead Ralph down the darkened streets. He jumped at every sound, but kept a firm grip on their arm. At this point, they didn’t even bat an eye at his tight hold. They had long become accustomed to Ralph’s nervous touch, holding them close whenever he felt nervous. In these shadow infested streets, they didn’t mind Ralph holding them so close that he nearly stepped on their heels with every move — it was far better than being alone.

“So where are we going?” Ralph asked.

“A friend of mine. They live on the other side of town, but we’ll be safe once we get there,” they replied.

The idea of walking across the city in the dead of night terrified him. The idea of leaving their side was even more terrifying though, and he found himself tightening his grip around their arm. Even if they were constantly looking straight ahead, Ralph couldn’t help but keep his head on a constant swivel.

A thump to the left? Ralph tightened his grip on them so painfully they had to gently pat his shoulder as a reminder to relax. A car driving past? He would huddle so close to them that he was practically walking on their heels. His eyes roved left and right, in front and behind them. He was paranoid, but at least he had a good reason for it.

But despite their vigilance, they weren’t aware of the police car until its menacing array of blue and red lights were flashing against the brick wall near them. Ralph nearly jumped out of his skin. His heart — though it was made of metal and wires — began to beat wildly against his chest.

“What do we do?” Ralph asked. The car was already on the same block on them and slowly driving towards them. “Please, what do we do? Ralph doesn’t want—”

“Stay calm, I’ve got this,” was all they said. They whipped up Ralph’s cowl so that it was hiding his face. They allowed their hand to rest on the side of his face long enough to meet his gaze and smile. Despite their predicament, Ralph found himself smiling back. It was hard not to when they gave him the smile that made his systems malfunction.

The police car pulled up to the sidewalk. The window rolled down. “Excuse me, you two,” the officer on the driver’s side said. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m going to have to see your ID’s.”

They could feel Ralph trembling, tugging lightly at their arm. They gave him a gentle pat before frowning at the officer. “What for?” they asked. They smiled sweetly. “Is something the matter?”

Both officers sighed. Ralph wished he could see past his hood to read their faces. Did they have a gun? Some other weapon? Were they glaring glaring at them, even though they had never done anything to deserve such treatment? Ralph hated this. He had wanted to run the moment the car had come into sight. Not only did the officers put himself in great danger, but also dragged them into that same danger. He cared about them too much. Just thinking of something happening to them made his mind spin around like error warnings were jamming his software.

“Just the usual patrol. We have to make sure there are no androids wandering about with everything that’s going on,” the other officer replied. Her voice wasn’t annoyed, just tired.

“Oh, I see,” they said. “Perfectly understandable.”

“And while you two do seem very nice, I am still going to have to see some identification,” the officer added. There was a hint of apology to his voice. Was there still hope for them?

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re in a bit of a hurry,” they said. “I’m sure you understand. With everything going on, we don’t want to be out here any longer than we have to.”

The officer didn’t reply right away. Ralph tugged on their arm more insistently. He couldn’t stand this silence, with nothing but the low hum of heating units and drone of distant cars to fill the tense silence. There was no way these officers were going to let them go. They were far too obvious. If his hood moved down just a little, they would be able to perfectly see his scar and there was no way they could talk their way out of that one.

“We’ll make it quick, we promise,” the other office said. “And if you live far from here, we’d be more than willing to give you a ride home.”

They smiled, even if they felt like they were suffocating. This wasn’t going at all how they had hoped. They were still miles from their friend’s house, and even if they could reach it, the task of getting across the border tomorrow would be even more difficult now that the officers knew their face.

“Alright,” they said. Ralph let go of their arm arm long for them to shrug off their backpack and crouch down by it. Hee placed his hand on their shoulder, fidgeting with their coat’s thick material. “Just a moment, I have both of our ID’s buried in here somewhere,” they said. Their brow furrowed as they began to mindlessly fumble through their belongings to stall.

“Honey, could you come help me for a second?” they asked, looking up at Ralph. Even though he was still trembling, he dropped down to their side instantly.

They were both well aware that the two officers were staring at them. They didn’t have much time before they would begin to become suspicious. They nudged Ralph gently, perking his attention instantly. He looked at them with wide, frightened eyes, searching for the familiar light of confidence in their face.

“When I stand up, run,” they whispered. “A block down from here we can turn down an alleyway. There are a bunch of small side streets and alleys all tangled together. We’ll be okay, I promise.”

Ralph gave a vague nod. He was terrified, but if anything, that made him all the more willing to listen to them. They pretended to have something in their hand as they put their backpack back on.

“Sorry that took awhile,” they said, giving the officers one last smile. They began to slowly stand, taking Ralph’s hand in a firm grip as they did so.

The moment they were completely standing, they ran. They didn’t look back, not even when the sound of yelling and car doors slamming filled their ears. The rush of their footsteps and breathing were the only sounds they could focus on. Ralph clung to their hand as they raced down the street and whipped around the corner into the alley. Without the faint glow of the streelight’s guiding their path it was near impossible to see, but they didn’t have a choice.

They continued to lead the way, turning randomly down the dark paths. The way was cluttered, causing both them and Ralph to stumble and have to pull the other up to keep going. The officers yelling and footsteps told them they had to keep moving, they always had to keep running and—

They ran straight into a brick wall.

They hadn’t even seen it before they were stumbling backwards and falling to the ground. Ralph’s hand slipped out of their grip, and they heard his sharp gasp of surprise. They blindly fumbled through the darkness, crawling backwards until their back hit something hard. There was scuffling in the darkness, people moving and yelling. Was Ralph there? Had he gone off a different direction when their hand was no longer guiding him?

The click of gun being loaded, though quiet through all the noise, cut through every other sound like a gong.

They pressed themselves farther back into the wall. Where was Ralph? He had run, right? They doubted the officers would actually shoot them, but Ralph was a different situation — to them, he was just an android. They wanted nothing more than to call out his name and find him. The ony thing keeping them from doing such was the fact that it would probably lead to the both of them being apprehended.

“Where’d they go?” one officer gasped. “I swear both of them went right down this dead end.”

“No one ran past me, I swear,” the other snapped. “They’re probably both still down there hiding. Here let me go first, I have the gun.”

“Is that really necessary? You’ll end up hitting me with this dark,” the first one grumbled, far closer than they had been in a few seconds ago. Their heart beat wildly inside their chest. So Ralph was still trapped with them? Where though? There wasn’t much space to be hiding.

“As long as I hit one of them — human or android — it’ll mean we have at least someone to interrogate,” the officer with the gun said. “And at this point, I—”

The officers words were cut off with a distinctive thud.

The next officer could only get out a sharp gasp before a similar thud cut through the air, instantly followed by a heavier thump.

Except for their own heavy breathing and racing heart, there was silence. Absolute chilling silence.

They took in a shuddering breath. “Ralph?” they said tentatively. “Ralph, where are you?”

There was no verbal reply, only a nearby shuffling.

“Ralph? Is that you?” they asked. Figuring it was him, they added, “Come here.”

The uneasy footsteps came right to their side. They were sure it was him though — and when his trembling arms wrapped around them far too tight, they were sure of it.

“Ralph didn’t mean to hurt them,” he said. His voice was partially muffled as he buried his head into their neck, taking in their comforting smell.

They nodded and began petting his hair. “I know you didn’t,” they said.

“They were going to hurt you. Ralph wanted to keep you safe like you always keep him safe,” he continued. He was still trembling, but their touch had caused him to relax into their hold.

“I know,” they said again. “But we need to get going. I don’t know how long they’ll be out, and I don’t want to take anymore chances.”

In the darkness, they could barely see Ralph nod. As they began to rise to their feet, Ralph clung to their arm painfully tight. Under most circumstances, they would’ve gently reminded him not to practically walk on their heels or hold them so tightly, but any such comments didn’t seem to suit their current situation. Having them just that much closer seemed to comfort him, and that was all they wanted for him in that moment.

And besides, they didn’t mind having him so close either.

#detroit become human #Ralph wr600 x reader #dbh ralph fic #ralph wr600 imagines #ralph scenario #dbh x reader #turned out more like a run on than i expected #oh well #hope it's okay!

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fightingforcreativity · 4 years

Text

Communication Is The Key

Another contribution to @rhodeyappreciationweek ‘s Rhodeyweek2020. Hope you all enjoy it. Also, those idiots. I swear it was not my fault! Prompts:

Engineer

Yearning

“Stop that.”

Relationship: Ironhusbands (Rhodey/Tony)

Word count: 1967

Chapter warning: Rhodey and Tony being dumb, crying Summary: For a long time now, Rhodey had been in love.Dumb luck that his sweetheart couldn't be in love with him, right?The airman visits Tony, feelings ensure. Ao3-Link: Communication Is The Key

(or read below the cut)

Late, between the witching hour and sunrise, the Malibu lab was unoccupied for once. Tones was asleep in his bedroom, Rhodey had made sure of that when he finally arrived. He knew he was late, later than they had planned, and it didn’t sit well with him that on their one set annual meeting his leave took longer to be approved than normal.

As soon as the airman had all his papers in order, he had been out of the station and into the next plane, which of course got delayed as well. Had everything gone according to plan, he would have been here early yesterday morning. As it was, Rhodey arrived late enough that JARVIS didn’t even wake Tones, and so he just put away his suitcase in the guestroom right next to Tony’s.

For a short moment, he sat on the far too big, far too soft bed his best friend insisted on providing for him. Whenever he came back from base, or really just from any other place he’d ever slept, he was once again confronted by the difference between this bed and all those others. When people asked him how it was to always babysit the playboy millionaire, the airman simply snorted and walked away. It was true that during MIT Rhodey had pulled the young dumbass out of a lot of sticky situations, but Rhodey had gotten them into just as many as the younger man had.

Nowadays, it was more Tony who took care of him than the other way around. Prime examples were his upgraded plane ticket, his bed here, some clothes he knew that dumbass had ordered just for him. Sometimes, in the most private corner of his mind and heart, Rhodey wished, yearned for his best friend to do those gestures with intent. Yes, sure, Tony did all those things and more because he cared for Rhodey, but…

‘Forget it, Rupert. He may be yours. But he’s never gonna be yours.´ Those thoughts had been plaguing him recently and he just wished that his stupid heart would get the message sooner rather than later.

“Is everything alright, Colonel Rhodes?” The lowly spoken words of the AI made Rhodey realize that he had clenched his hands into fists and was trembling. Slowly, carefully, he relaxed, tense shoulders sagging in defeat. He massaged his jaw, which had also locked, before he replied flatly, “Yeah, Jarv. I’m good.”

How a silence from an AI could sound unimpressed and judgemental was one of those mysterious things only Tones could create. To break the silence, Rhodey stood and stretched, quietly asking, “Is the lab off limits at the moment?”

“Not that I am aware of. May I ask what you wish to do in it?”

“Visiting my godson, and maybe doing some fun engineering. I haven’t had the opportunity to do anything for a long time now.” A small grin curled his lips as he made his way to Tony’s lab. He could swear to hear a soft muttered “Engineers” from JARVIS.

In the lab, Rhodey was greeted by happy beeps. Dum-E rolled out of his charging station towards him. The airman patted him gently, having missed the dumpster fire bot nearly as much as he’d missed his creator. “Hey there, buddy. How have you been? Have you looked after that dumb dad of yours?”

A series of different beeps followed his questions, most happy, some sad. He continued to pat the bot for a bit before walking towards a slightly hidden workbench.

The clutter on it was just as he left it. According to Tones, the younger man had forbidden the bots to clean up that place, and even Tony didn’t touch any stuff on it. Because, apparently, this was Rhodey’s private space and Rhodey’s alone. When Tony had phrased it that way, the older man had trouble to keep his breath even and his voice from trembling. Rhodey had simply surged forward and embraced the smaller man tightly. The embrace had been one of the more awkward ones shared between them, not least because it was filled with the emotions Rhodey felt for his stupid dumbass.

That moment had also been a catalyst for Rhodey’s unbidden feelings for Tony to rekindle and become a full-blown fire after years of suppressing them. If Rhodey was honest with himself, that was probably the moment the pining and yearning had really started. Surveying the things strewn over the surface, Rhodey tried to get into engineering mode. He remembered being excited about the project he had started over seven months ago. However, the only thing he felt now was frustration.

Frustration that it took him so long to come back to it.

Frustration that he would start on it, only to leave it.

Frustration that he would leave in a few days, without finishing the project or spending nearly enough time with Tony.

He picked up one of the cogs, clenching his hand hard around it. Tears of frustration started to fill his eyes and suddenly he couldn’t hold it back. He drew his arm back, at the same time drawing in a deep breath, preparing to throw the cog and scream at the top of his lungs. When he was about to toss it, callous but gentle hands tugged his arm down.

Rhodey’s eyes snapped open. He turned towards the owner of the hand and knew he was going to break.Here was Tony. Wonderful, sleepyhead, gentle, crazy, blurry-eyed, loyal Tony. Tony, whose eyes were soft, whose lips formed a worried frown. The very man who Rhodey had wanted to leave in peace to catch some hours of rest. The man Rhodey had sworn to protect and care for.

Tony, who he yearned for.

Tony, who he loved.

“Hey there, Platypus,” Tony’s voice was gravelly, heavy with sleep and worry. “I thought lab destruction was my thing, not yours.”

The joke fell flat; Rhodey was too keyed up to appreciate it, and Tony too worried to put on a show. But somehow, that was the last straw. With a loud clatter, the cog fell to the ground and Rhodey tried to free himself. Normally, Rhodey wouldn’t have any trouble shaking off Tony’s hand. However, the airman wasn’t putting much effort into it, and Tony didn’t seem inclined to let him go. And then, out of nowhere, Tony hugged him close, whispering gently, “Stop that. It’s ok. I’m here. Whatever it is, tell me and I’ll fix it.”

And that- well that was so Tony that Rhodey finally cried for real. He buried his face against Tony’s shoulder, hiccuping and sobbing. Rhodey took comfort in the delusion that Tony might be able to ‘fix’ his feelings for the shorter man.

They stood like that for a long while before Tony led them to the worn couch and directed them to lay face to face on it. Their faces were so close and the space so narrow that Rhodey felt Tony’s breath on his cheeks. Softly, Tony’s finger brushed away his tears. Neither said anything. Soon enough, the exhaustion caught up with Rhodey and he drifted off. Rhodey thought that he felt delicate lips brush against his, whispering, “Rest well, Honeybear.”

The next morning came with a headache and the gross feeling of unbrushed teeth. Sitting up from his position on the couch, Rhodey felt the blanket slide down and pool in his lap. A bit confused, he looked around. The lab was silent and empty, the lights dimmed. Heaving a sigh, Rhodey got up and went upstairs. A glance towards his watch told him that he might as well stay up and prepare some coffee and breakfast for Tones.

To his utter surprise, the kitchen wasn’t empty. Iron Maiden played surprisingly quietly in the background while Tony stood at the stove, making what smelled like an omelet. The coffee was already brewed and two cups sat innocently on the counter. It occurred to Rhodey that he hadn’t seen Tones that domestic since MIT.

The airman rapped his knuckles against the counter to get Tony to notice him. The younger engineer whirled around, nearly knocking the pan from the stove, and gifted Rhodey with a blinding smile.

“Morning, Platypus!”

“Morning, Tones. Sleep well?” Inwardly, Rhodey cringed at that question. He knew Tony didn’t sleep much or well. The man had woken just to find his best friend on the brink of a breakdown, so of course he wasn’t going to be well-rested.

Tony, God bless him, made a simple so-so hand gesture, and turned back to the stove. Which was apparently just in time, as the omelet had started to become the wrong shade of golden. “I’ve made breakfast, Honeybear. Also coffee!”

The cheerful attitude would have been welcome every other day, but Rhodey didn’t feel positive enough to appreciate it today. Still, with a grimace instead of a smile, he answered, “Thanks. Let’s eat, then.”

Their breakfast was unusually quiet. Rhodey knew why. Tony was tiptoeing because he didn’t want to set him off again. And Rhodey? Frankly, Rhodey was starting to feel fed up with it. So, as soon as they’d both finished their food, Rhodey turned to Tony and said, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” The other man blinked innocently at him. Any other person might have bought it, but not Rhodey. Rhodey knew Tones way too well for that. In answer, Rhodey simply arched an eyebrow until Tony relented. “Fine. I… do you want to talk about what- you know? Last night?”

Rhodey pondered his options. He did not want to talk about it. But he also didn’t feel like losing his best friend this early in the morning. As it was, Tony took his silence as a reason to speak again, “If you don’t want to talk about it-”

“That’s not it, Tones. God, how much I wish you could fix this!”

“What is it? I swear I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

Rhodey snorted. That was exactly the problem. “I know that. God damn, man, do I know. But I don’t want you to ‘fix’ your feelings for me because I ask you to!”

As soon as Rhodey said those words, Tony went alarmingly still. If Rhodey wasn’t so occupied with his own misery, he would have noticed that something was wrong before Tony said anything. As it was, the sad undertone caught him off-guard. “Oh.”

Oh. Two letters. Two small, innocent letters. A short enough exclamation. But so full of unsaid words and thoughts that it choked Rhodey right there. Tony looked at the ground. For all his usual bravado, he looked small, fragile, and dare Rhodey say broken? “Tones?”

“I.. I get it,” the brunet whispered. He cleared his throat before he continued. “I’ll stop. I promise, Platy- I mean, Rhodes. I won’t… I’ll find a way. I promise.”

That sounded not good. Somehow, though, it sounded a whole damn lot like Tony loved him back. Hope started to bloom in Rhodey’s chest, the yearning pushing at him to take this last step, this very last risk. Rhodey took a step closer, just as Tony faced him again, a press-smile on his face, and both spoke at once.

“I’ll stop loving you-”

“I’m in love with you, Tones.”

Both men stared at each other with wide, disbelieving eyes, until they comprehended each other’s words and the last distance between them was overcome.

The taller man leaned down, while the smaller one tilted his head up. Their lips met in a slow, dance-like kiss. Arms tangled around each other’s necks and backs.

When they stepped back, both of them were grinning like idiots. Their hearts were full of love and warmth and happiness. Neither knew what tomorrow would bring, but they had each other. That would always be enough.

#rhodeyweek2020 #rhodeyappreciationweek #day 5 #writing prompts #Ironhusbands #rhodey #tony stark #Rhodey POV

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hiddendreamer67 · 5 years

Text

Borrower Analogical (2)

Chapter Summary: November 14th, 2019. Virgil goes borrowing and attempts to free Logan a second time.

(Check my reblog for links to previous chapters)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was torture for Virgil to just sit inside the walls, twiddling his thumbs. He felt so useless. But there was nothing he could do except keep an eye on Logan. And even that was the extent of his power. If anything were to happen to Logan, all Virgil could do was sit by and watch it happen.

Viril groaned, putting his head in his hands as he sat behind the ceiling vent, the closest entrance to the human world from his and Logan’s home. At least the humans seemed to be leaving Logan alone for now. Virgil had heard Patton talking about how they wouldn’t want to frighten Logan and that it would be best to allow him time to adjust. Virgil couldn’t help but worry how short of a break Logan would actually get. And it was hardly a break at all, considering he was still trapped in that ridiculous cage.

Hearing the familiar click of the front door as the second human left for class, Virgil knew he had to take advantage of this time when the house was empty. Virgil propped the spool of thread against the bars, unraveling the length so that it reached the floor below. He could see Logan’s eyes on him as he maneuvered into the human world, sliding down to the floor below. Virgil was forced to leave the thread hanging out in the open, as it would serve as his escape route.

Virgil scampered across the living room floor, making sure to pace himself as he picked up his legs to keep his feet from catching in the long fibers. He longed to get Logan home right this instant, but without his hook Virgil couldn’t even make it up onto the coffee table. The legs were far too slick to provide grip to even the nimblest borrower.

“Get some paper clips.” Logan called out, tracking Virgil’s progress from above. Logan felt just as useless as Virgil had moments ago, knowing he could do nothing but give advice as Virgil did all the work. Because of Logan’s own ignorance, no less. Logan took comfort in the fact that at least he was the one behind bars and Virgil had not had to pay for his mistakes.

Virgil gave Logan a brief thumbs up, not even sure if the other borrower saw it as he dashed into the first bedroom. Virgil scoured along the floor, hoping he would get lucky and find the supplies he needed scattered along the ground. Unfortunately he had no such luck; it seemed Roman had finally cleaned his room after years of clutter.

“You just have to make things difficult, don’t ya princey?” Virgil groaned, leaning back to peer up the leg of the desk. Here the wood was old, with nicks and grooves that would make decent footholds. It was a dangerous climb, but Virgil could manage. He didn’t have many options.

With great difficulty Virgil pulled himself up the large wooden pillar, stopping only briefly to take a breath every now and again. Thankfully Virgil was quite skilled when it came to feats of agility, and it was only a matter of minutes before Virgil was clambering onto the top. He ran over, gathering up a few paper clips and tossing them to the ground. He turned to climb back down, when a glint of something on the other end of the desk caught his eye.

Was that…? Virgil dashed over, grabbing it up with a large grin. He had already made his peace with never being able to see it again. Thankfully, this wasn't the case. After all, a paper clip would do in a pinch, but they bent far too easily to make reliable climbing gear. This abandoned fish hook, on the other end, had saved Virgil’s life on multiple occasions from a nasty tumble.

Virgil hooked the device into the table edge with practiced ease, grappling down to the ground. With a flick of his wrist the hook became unlodged before Virgil caught it in his palm. After wrapping it around his belt, Virgil gathered up the paper clips in his arms and ran back to the living room.

Virgil threw his hook up onto the coffee table, putting the paper clips on like oversized bracelets to free his arms for climbing. He grunted, forcing himself to hurry. College classes only last so long.

“Ah, wonderful.” Logan praised, noticing all that Virgil had acquired.

“Yeah yeah, I’m amazing.” Virgil smirked, approaching the bars. He frowned at the padlock, the newest addition to Logan’s prison.

“Hand me a clip.” Logan instructed, and Virgil handed it over. Logan began to bend the metal, twisting it around to try and fit it into the lock. Virgil watched as his friend tried a variety of various positions, none of which seemed to have any effect on the mechanism.

“..Let me try.” Virgil offered, getting a bit anxious when Logan failed. Logan begrudgingly let go, allowing Virgil to take a stab at it. His attempts yielded the same results.

“It’s no use.” Logan declared after several minutes. “It’s too soft, it’s bending around instead of providing a steady base.”

Virgil released the wire, feeling his anxiety heighten as he realized their time was running out. He yanked the wire out, instead trying to stab the lock with a spare thumbtack he kept on hand. The handle made it impossible for the blade to reach far enough into the lock to actually do anything.

“That’s not going to work-” Logan was cut off by a frustrated Virgil.

“Well what is gonna work, huh?” Virgil felt rage and despair boiling inside him simultaneously. “You wanna just stay in there, at the mercy of those humans?”

“Of course not.” Logan’s answer was immediate, and the accompanying shudder Logan gave made Virgil’s heart ache with sympathy. Logan must have been terrified these last two days, especially when he had to face this all alone. Virgil knew he wouldn’t be nearly as brave in Logan's place.

“Then what do we do?” Virgil turned pleadingly to his friend, looking into his eyes for some form of guidance. Logan was always the smarter one. The clever one. Logan was the one who always had a plan. He had plans for his backup plans. He had schedules and ideas that Virgil could never hope to comprehend.

But today, Logan’s eyes held none of their usual spark. They were soft, unfocused. He resembled a lost child, and after a moment Virgil realized that while he was looking to Logan for guidance, Logan was doing the same back at him.

“...you should go.” Logan broke eye contact first, looking down. He rubbed gently at his sides. “You don’t have much time.”

“We have enough time.” Virgil insisted, but the constant clicking of the clock on the wall behind him said otherwise. “We can figure this out.”

“Virgil, please.” Logan pinched his eyes shut, as if this pained him more than the bruises from earlier. “I’ll.. I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” Virgil’s retort came out with a bit of a hysterical laugh, and Virgil vaguely realized he was downright panicking. Logan’s self-righteous demeanor was freaking him out a little.

“Is that what you want to hear?” Logan’s eyes snapped up, glaring at Virgil. “Fine, you’re right. I don’t know I’ll be fine. You’re right, I’m wrong. And you were right yesterday, too. I should-” Logan’s voice cracked slightly. “...I wish I had listened to you. You warned me. I shouldn’t have gone.”

“For the same reason, please listen to me now.” Logan’s gaze turned to one of pleading. “Virgil, I cannot bear to have you stuck in here with me. At least when you’re out there I know you’re alright, and I can hold onto hope that you will find a way to get me out of here.” Logan grabbed Virgil’s hand through the bars, giving it a comforting squeeze. Whether it was to comfort himself or Virgil was unclear.

“I’ll get you out of here, Lo.” Virgil said with more determination than he felt. He grasped onto Logan’s arm like a desperate child. “I promise.”

“You are smarter than I ever give you credit for, Virgil.” Logan insisted. “It’s why I should have listened, and it’s also why I know you’ll succeed. You can do this.”

“At least one of us believes that.” Virgil gave a dark chuckle. Reluctantly Virgil pulled his hands back, pulling out his knife and putting it in his bag. He slung the paper clip wires over his shoulder, giving Logan one last look before grappling down. He ran over to the thread awaiting him from earlier, beginning the arduous task of climbing the entire length up to the ceiling vent.

When Virgil reached the top, he put his hands on his knees and allowed himself a few panting breaths before beginning to roll up the thread. Halfway through this task Virgil heard the sound of the front door. Heart pounding, Virgil’s hands flew to roll it up at twice the usual speed. The last inch of the thread disappeared between the bars just as the human bean entered the threshold.

#borrower analogical #g/t #borrowers #borrower #sanders sides #borrower!virgil #borrower!logan #infinitesimal!sides #part 2 #day by day #posting this early so i can get links working lol #oh i guess it is monday huh #yeah imma post this on mondays #analogical

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procit · 4 years

Text

Hair Mistakes (And How To Fix Them)

Therefore what exactly do you currently doing to you personally, now? In case 20 20's own hair styles are something to pass, you also are able to go one of two manners: military or cluttered. When some cuts prefer texture and grunge-style lengthy hair others ' are exactly about a sharp back and sides or even no-messing buzz cuts.

From trend months for some operating week, Here is a heads upon the most useful adult men's hairstyles to year.

The Textured Crop

Considering that the Terrible sausage pops nineties along with also the Acne-inducing E Mo side effects of this noughties, smart males have given fringe hair-cuts an extensive berth. Generally in the majority of scenarios that was wise hazard aversion. However this calendar year's large hitter about the front -- that the textured harvest -- is scarily exact nor anti social, only flattering for most of men.

The design, at Brief, is really a remix of this Short sides and back at which in fact the span in addition to works together gravity as opposed to contrary to it. "The cluttered cropped minimize works together your very own all-natural expansion designs," claims Robbie Burt in London's Sharps Barber and store. "It is most useful on people who have thick hair that's natural feel. You ought to request your barber for those makings of the tight and high however request loads of duration to become rendered top that ought to be trimmed for daring, sq feel "

The design is sold from That the woke-up-like-this faculty of hair dressing, Thus in the event that you have got a few thousand hairs outside of spot which could possibly become a very good matter. "Keeping this fashion will involve minimum fuss," says Burt. "By running out a matte adhesive throughout your palms and employing equally during your own hair you may cause a milder, undone look" If you should be more glistening Rick than bird nest, however, you are still permitted employ. "To make some thing having a bright, easier ending with a water-based pomade."

The under Cut Quiff

The quiff is your default option hairstyle of Teens armed with way too numerous hormones along with a lot of purchase hair solutions. This calendar year's variant isn't too try hard, yet. It finds that the quiff input the severe grown up hair-style stadium using a harshly contrasting under-cut along with also a end that awards tender weathered feel within sky-scraping stimulation.

Just before you consider that which Industrial strength hair merchandise may fasten your own hair right into spot, consider the trimming; it's going to make claiming this manner that a hell of lots simpler. "Request your barber to detach the sides out of top in clipper tier zero, developing a dull comparison in span," states Bradley Smith, innovative manager at Bradley Smith Hair Heathrow. "Afterward you're going to want a twist off throughout the throat and neck while still departing span towards the top along with your knee enables place to generate volume and texture at front"

People familiar with Trying to keep a quiff in place is going to learn that approach (plus also a hand that is constant ) is what. "To begin, towel-dry your own hair slightly moist then employ a pre-styling representative," states Smith. "Function with a dab of sea salt spray in your own hair most of the way into the roots, then subsequently divides your own hair fit, with a curved brush to make volume and texture. Adhere to it by running out a coin-sized quantity of clay in your own hair and make texture along with your own palms. To finish the appearance, work with an booster powder to greatly help set your own hair "

The Tapered Higher & Restricted

Are you in to prolonged hairstyles? Can not Be bothered to create your own hair? Do not desire to check to be an egg using individual capabilities? This calendar year's tapered spin to the tight and high looks up your road. This limited, very low care mode takes the buzz-cut's CBA mentality but leaves one something to play with up top.

The tight and high is really that a time-poor, Style-conscious timeless, however to the incorrect mind, it could possibly find yourself a touch overly Essential support. "To get a version of this standard back and sides request a high and tight in clipper shield two or one having a streamlined harvest on top," states Smith. "The cut needs to synthesize heritage but also a harshly textured and cut span towards shirt will steer clear modern; presume Jake Gyllenhaal and Ryan Reynolds."

The Majority of the artistry Of this fashion goes right down into a barber, therefore as soon as you have endured the embarrassing seat discussion, the tough part has ended (even though you are going to need to return often ). "Employ a spoonful of fiber glue to towel-dried own hair, doing work out back distributing the merchandise to make body weight and feel using an general natural however glowing appearance," states Smith.

The Man Bob

Ever since time immemoriallong, cluttered hair gets Been the conserve of rebels and also grungers. It is often considered being a garment which only sort of occurs to your person when dressing proceeds outside of this window. Using a little bit of TLC and elaborate scissor do the job though long guards won't will need to liquefy you personally as a soap dodger. Mid-shoulder-length hair that has slightly messed-up includes a great deal of possibility to accomplish the hallowed mid point between creating an energy and perhaps not. Turn into famous brands Timothée Chalamet and package Harrington as the goto guardians of this cluttered guy vaccinated.

Even though this Calendar Year's T-AKE has definitely Smartened up its action, avert such a thing overly eloquent; that may land you into ABBA tribute ring land. "This fashion may focus with people who have almost any depth or feel, the trick to setting it up is making certain you are requesting your barber for coats that match your own face form and hair feel," says Burt. "sturdy contours ought to be clipped in to the hair's outer levels to generate drop or flow within own hair, making certain the equilibrium and weight has been equally dispersed"

Pleasingly, that trimming Doesn't need the patience of the saint to style, so it might mainly be abandoned to its devices. "Permit the personality tender by natural means," says Burt. "You ought to utilize product or service though predicated upon the conclusion you are later; employ just a tiny salt spray to get a cluttered matte soft or effect wax to boost feel and curl."

The Buzz-cut

Customarily, the Buzz-cut was Already been short hand for rebellion versus'the individual' or perhaps a style of turning you to another quantity. Based upon your own perspective, whenever the clippers turn out, possibly your identity or compliance together with society is going to wind up about the ground. Perhaps not that it can not showcase your great appearances, however this is what -- you still want to truly have the characteristics to this particular.

The unhappy Truth of life is that we are not even all Blessed with proportioned heads. "ahead of obtaining a buzz, you feel that your face to get almost any lumps or lumps because these is going to undoubtedly be observable," states Smith. "I will suggest searching at the mirror and then imagine everything you'd appear to be having a buzz-cut and then inquire is that proper for me personally "

As Soon as You've obtained the most clear to really go Clean upward high, it really should not be an self-shave occupation together with all the hair clippers. The buzz Trimming could possibly be uniform in span however tiny variations in your own clippers' shield can Function as gap among Channing Tatum and Gollum. You will also Require a barber To clean the borders. And since it develops , do not believe you won't Require a Little item. "You also Might Wish to Bring some merchandise to Switch the feel, for example As a matte glue. But to get a glistening polished Expression, a pomade-based Item Is going to perform this secret," states Smith.

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things-we-used-tc-share · 5 years

Text

Couldn’t forget if I tried

Warnings:

Ship: Sleeplogical, background Virgil/Patton/Roman (mentioned)

Plot: Whilst the other’s may not be acutely aware of the fact Remy exists, Logan has had many a conversation with him. One conversation in particular finally needs to be addressed.

Written for @creativity-killed-thekitten and their complaints of a lack of sleeplogical content. I’m Not Very Good at writing Remy because he’s like the opposite of what I can write (Roman, Remy, and Patton are always Really hard to write because I’m a bitter soul)

“If you drink any more coffee you’re going to pass out,” Logan laughs, staring up at the ceiling whilst Remy shakes his head, sipping the murky brown liquid. “Your room is so cluttered,” He sighs lightly, picking at the strands of the rug with lazy and tired movements “It would be beneficial for...”

“You to shut up specs, I like my room the way it is, bitch,” Remy pokes Logan’s side playfully “Now what can I do for my favorite brainiac?” Logan’s face falls and he stares at the ceiling with intent. “Something keeping you up?”

“Do you think we can fall in love like Thomas can?” He asks slowly “Because sometimes I think it’s improbable, perhaps even impossible, and sometimes I see the way Patton looks at Roman or the things Roman says to Virgil when they think no one can hear and...am I missing out on something?” He pauses and Remy’s eyebrows raise because he hadn’t expected that in the slightest. “The worst part is I don’t think I even want to be a part of their relationship I just...want to experience something like that,” He tilts his head and his gaze rests on Remy’s, who looks pained.

“I don’t know if I have a response for that one,” He admits “I would say maybe, I...I couldn’t tell you,”

They’ve both always been particularly good liars.

3 weeks later

“Yes,” Logan looks up at the exuberant young man, who pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head and rests the cup of coffee on the table top “Yes I think we can fall in love, just as much as Thomas can,” He is, of course, referencing a conversation that occurred while they were both so tired that everything seemed hilarious and really, it’s Remy’s fault they’re so tired because it’s always Remy’s fault when they can’t sleep.

“I thought you’d forgotten about that,” Logan stirs his coffee slowly. Remy’s room sat outside the mindscape, in his own little bubble that he rather enjoyed, only Logan really knew he existed although he had a suspicion that Virgil may have interacted with the other at some point. The characterization of Sleep is as elusive and mysterious as anyone would expect from someone with as awful of a sleep pattern as Thomas has.

“I couldn’t forget that if I tried sweetheart,” He sips at his iced coffee with a smile on his lips “You had more you wanted to say, and I know it so spill, whose the lucky guy? I have my money placed on Patton in all honesty, he seems the easiest to love,” He points the straw at Logan “Not really your type though is he? Hmm...Virgil?”

“I don’t experience romantic feelings,” Logan lies through his teeth.

“Yeah yeah,” The eldest lets his sunglasses fall over his eyes, sipping his coffee thoughtfully “You can lie to yourself but you can’t lie to me, I’m too good of a liar not to know when you’re being shady, so who is it?”

Logan can’t tell him. And he won’t tell him. These conversations where it’s too early in the morning or too late at night are practically the only things he genuinely looks forward too. He meets Remy’s eyes through the shades and shakes his head. “No-one,”

One week later

“It’s Friday!” Remy skids down the stairs “You know what that means!”

“You can disappear for a whole weekend with no consequences?” Logan deadpans, throwing cereal in his mouth “Thomas neither has a regular job nor does he attend any form of educational facility, and you disappear for entire nights anyway as it stands, so do tell me the occasion,”

“Wel,l you just ruined the fun,” Remy replies haughtily, producing a cup of coffee from seemingly nowhere at all. “Also why are you here? You usually have breakfast with the others, or are they being ridiculously sickeningly sweet and you can’t stand it?” Logan nods in confirmation, looking down at his Weetabix forlornly. Remy gasps dramatically “Are you jealous?” he teases, receiving a dark look that demanded that the sleep facet shut the fuck up.

“I’m not jealous of them, I don’t wish to be apart of their relationship, and I’m happy for them Remy,”

“But...?”

Logan sighs and rolls his eyes “But I must admit I’m curious about what they have...even if I don’t wish to participate in it with them,” Remy’s eyebrow furrows and he leans back in his chair, studying Logan’s face.

“If it’s not them then...who? One of the other sides? Deceit?”

“Believe me when I say Deceit is not the sort of person with an interest for romantic partnership, and maybe it’s just a general curiosity, why does there have to be someone in particular?” Logan rather aggressively shovels cereal onto his spoon and then into his mouth. He’s not exactly the best at lying, he’s awful at it really.

But it’s not like he can just turn around and say ‘Hey, Remy, wanna do that thing where you put your mouth on my mouth?’

As much as he’d love too, he doesn’t generally have that sort of bravery in him. These conversations he adored and talking about life or problems they’re all things he was familiar with, a safe ground. Love, and heartbreak, and how nice Remy looks when he’s just woken up and his hair is sticking up in every which direction, those were all a ground that he was not willing to tread on.

2 Weeks Later

Logan walked downstairs to find Remy sat on the table, throwing lucky charms in the air to try and catch them with his mouth. “Is he yours?” Roman asks, eyebrows furrowed and Remy snorts indignantly.

“Honey I don’t belong to anybody,” Remy quips with a dangerous edge to his voice. Logan sighs and nods, wandering over. He can see the other three peering over, trying desperately not to seem like they’re prying. “It’s weird meeting them in person,” he comments quietly, sliding off the table to land on his feet beside Logan “You weren’t at mine at your usual time so I came here instead,”

“You never come here,” Logan mutters, placing his hand on Remy’s back to guide him out of the door. “You’ve explicitly said before that you don’t want the others to know you even exist,”

“Well now they know I exist,” Remy abandons the cereal on the kitchen counter “But they don’t know my function which hopefully means I don’t have to attend your group problem-solving activities,”

“They’re going to know you’re something Remy,” Logan sighs tiredly, “And I’m going to get interrogated for it,” The two sigh and sink down to Remy’s room. “What do I tell them? they’re going to assume the worst,” The elder tries not to look hurt in response “You know what I mean,”

“I can’t be that bad,”

“You’re not,” Logan flops down on the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose just under his glasses, trying to clear his head “I was just perfectly content to know our friendship was private and now they’re going to want to know who you are, how long I’ve known you, why you’ve never been introduced to them,”

“Either tell them or don’t tell them, telling them to fuck off is also an option,”

He hadn’t quite thought about that, he could probably say that to Roman but Patton and Virgil might actually be upset about that. “I can’t do that,” he finally says “That would upset them, and they are my friends,”

“Then tell them,”

Interestingly enough, Logan does tell them, and somewhere between him starting to talk about Remy and stopping talking about Remy, the other three had assumed that the literal embodiment of sleep was Logan’s boyfriend. Not because he told them because even if Remy was his boyfriend he probably wouldn’t tell them.

No, it was more to do with the dazed smile on his face and the sound of his voice as he talked.

One Year Previously

“So you’re the person I have to give a lecture too?” Remy drops the sunglasses in his hands and they clatter to the floor with a resounding thud as he whirls around, steadying his cup of coffee “Thomas sent me,”

“How...did you get here?” The man muttered, placing his cup of coffee on the table “None of you are supposed to know I exist,” He doesn’t look too happy at the intrusion and bends down to pick up his sunglasses with a huff of annoyance.

“Like I said, Thomas sent me, Remy is it?” A nod of confirmation “Great, so apparently you don’t quite understand the importance of sleep,”

And thus, Logan lectured Remy for a full two hours on why messing up Thomas’ sleep schedule was not ideals, and Remy listened...sort of, he spent most of it intrigued with the way the newcomer talked. Like he’d swallowed a dictionary and was just spitting out the words inside. The young man sipped his coffee and watched as Logan talked.

By the end of the night, he couldn’t help but think there was something rather beautiful in the way he worded things, intricately chosen sentence structures like he actually cares about what he’s saying. Remy had spent such a long time in isolation, the way he liked it, he’d forgotten what it was like to have real company. Even when he journeyed outside the mindscape, most of his friendships lasted a couple of hours.

Remy told Logan he could stop by any time “I like you, you’re one strange guy,” the logical facet couldn’t quite decide if that was a compliment, but he laughed anyway.

Present Time

Now that they know Remy exists, the eldest had a habit of inviting himself over. He thinks Patton talks too much, and he and Roman have personalities so similar that it’s almost terrifying, but despite his initial reservations, he does prefer it to his solitude. He settles in well with them, even though Roman never stops flirting with him and Virgil will not stop commenting about the fact he wears shades inside (”It’s not a good look,” He’d tease, mimicking Remy’s valley girl accent).

Eventually, Patton starts inviting him over for the sole purpose of keeping Logan company, and it’s not like Remy has a day job, so he acquiesed. One day, he’s feeling a tug and assumes it’s that; a case of Logan’s gonna be lonely because they have a date planned or something. But when he appears in their living room, Patton looks...distressed.

“He’s not stopped staring at his paperwork for three days, he looks exhausted, he won’t talk to us and I don’t know what’s going on but he only really seems to listen to you and I was hoping you could talk to him,” Remy hadn’t noticed that Logan had ever taken any advice he’d given him, but if Patton says he listens to him, the elder is willing to believe it. Patton doesn’t lie, he’s morality.

Remy knocks on Logan’s door, realizes he’s never actually seen the inside and as he steps into the room, kind of wishes he hadn’t. It’s cold, but not in temperature, it makes Remy feel cold, ill, his brain seems to shift slightly to left as the door closes behind him. It’s like the room is trying to suffocate his emotions, and that’s all the explanation he needs as to why Logan hasn’t left it “Is this about that conversation we had?”

“What conversation?” Logan mutters, glaring at his pen as it writes, Remy doesn’t doubt whatever’s on that piece of paper makes zero sense judging by the state the logical side seems to be in.

“Let’s talk somewhere that isn’t here,” He grabs Logan by his shirt and pushes him through the door of his room. He looks at the other three doors, going over in his head who they belonged too before he opens up Patton’s room and shoves Logan inside, quietly apologizing to the Moral side for invading his privacy, even though he isn’t here. “Jesus this place is dusty, but it’ll do the trick,” Logan looks exhausted, Remy almost feels sorry for him. “You need to fess up about your feelings to this guy Logan because that,” He points behind him at Logan’s room “Not okay, in no world is what you’re doing in any way shape or form healthy or productive,”

Logan complains, grumbling something that only seems to set the embodiment of sleep off again “I’m fucking serious,” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration “You’re logic, use common sense, is suppressing emotions dangerous?”

“Yes,” “Should you do it?”

“No,”

“It’s like talking to a five-year-old, and honestly literally everyone is downstairs panicking because you won’t listen to them, so I get the feeling this is something you’ve been told many, many times, come on Logan, you’re smarter than that,” Logan looks down at his hands, trying to ignore the waves of emotion that come with Patton’s room, first it’s agitation, then it’s melancholia, and then lastly it’s the one emotion he’s been trying to avoid.

He can’t quite stop the tears in his eyes.

Remy’s face softens from irritation to worry, his hand resting on Logan’s arm as he mutters out something that could’ve been ‘sorry’. All Logan can hear is static and his own heart pounding in his chest; this room harvests all emotions and amplifies them and he needs to get out, now. But then Remy’s arms are wrapping around him and they belong to the same person, but he swears the other man is taller. “You need to feel,”

And Logan does. He hates it so much until the sadness melts away and he’s burying his face in Remy’s neck, holding onto him with some warmth as they stand surrounded by an explosion of emotions. Not even Patton likes to spend too much time in his own room, but for Logan right now it’s like a bomb being contained in an explosion-proof room, making everyone but Remy safe from the shrapnel.

First he starts talking, and he’s angry, he’s angry at himself and he’s angry at Remy and he’s angry that he ever let himself get attached, and then he’s sad and angry at the same time because Remy isn’t ever going to be interested in someone like him, he’s too much of everything for anyone to handle. Then his anger melts away into heartbreak because he’s spent so long, so sure he could never love and now here he is, in love and it hurts so fucking much. Remy blinks, shock registering somewhere in his brain.

‘It was me all this time?’

He wants to laugh with relief and cry at the same time because if only one of them had the balls to admit it, this could’ve been avoided. ‘Then,’ he thinks ‘I suppose we’re both cowards and I have no room to talk,’

When Logan’s finally calmed down from his whirlwind, Remy shakes his head at him. “We’re both idiots,” He sighs, and the confusion is so plain on the logical facet’s face, right before Remy kisses it away. Logan’s eyebrows raise in surprise, his hand coming up to rest on the other’s cheek as the somehow taller man’s hands rest on his back, holding them close together.

“We are both idiots,” Logan confirms quietly.

@analogical-mess // @unikornavenger // @mycatshuman // @creativity-killed-thekitten //@theresneverenoughfandoms //@charmingprincey //@aclickonapostwillchangeyourlife//@heck-im-lost //@k9cat //@stilljittery //@romansleftshoulderpad //@sanderssideslibrary // @max-is-tired //@therealmoshar //@punsterterry //@trashypansexual //@miserykillme//@demigodnamedathena //@sevencrashing//@misunderstood-shadow //@aphriteblack //@jemthebookworm //@sandersandthesides //@penguinkool //@georganabanana //@importantrunawaystudentstuff // @ao-koshka

#sanders sides #sanders shorts #sleeplogical

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oh-theatre · 5 years

Text

Sycamore High: Together (Chapter 12)

A/N: I LOVE TED, CHAD AND HENRY IM SORRY BUT I JUST DO. Also yay Alice!! But also nooo Alice...

summary: Henry does his best to comfort a very scared Ted, Bill and Paul figure out how to deal with their emotions. Murder seems to be their favorite option so...

words: 2,348

warnings: Crying, negative thoughts, cursing, hinted abuse, cheating, past trauma, murder mention, angst

Ao3 link

Ted was feeling a whole different kind of embarrassed now. A kind of embarrassment of being held and comforted by his biology teacher in the middle of a hallway. The sudden realization of his current position hit him as he quickly pulled away from a reluctant teacher. The old surgeon looked at him, his eyes filled with a fiery rage that all but soothed Ted. Then, he heard it. Ted quickly turned to find himself surrounded by his classmates, all taking photos and murmuring amongst themselves. He flushed an awful shade of pink hiding away until a commanding voice filled his ears.

“Get the hell away” Ted turned to find Bill of all people seething. Ted could practically see the fire coming out of his ears. “All of you, go back to your useless lives and leave my friend alone” The hallway fell silent at Bills very calm, but very angry outburst. Then something happened that shocked Ted more, the group listened to him. Slowly but surely, small groups of kids made their way to class until the hallways were once again empty. Empty except for a shivering Ted, a very angry professor, 4 concerned friends, and a be-speckled boy. Ted couldn't meet their eyes, he couldn't face them, not yet. He sighed shakily and turned to the professor and pleaded. His eyes burned with incoming tears but once the older man met the young boys gaze he understood.

“Bill, its Bill right?” He started, Bill turned to face the pair cluttered on the ground. His former anger seeped away and Ted recognized his soft friends face returning. He nodded eagerly. “That was… extremely helpful of you but you kids should make your way back to class now” Bill went to protest clear concern riddled his face but the professor continued, “I will take care of Ted and make sure he gets home safely” Ted cursed himself, they were so close, but of course the professor wouldn't know.

“No!” Bill cried suddenly, Ted winced at his volume but turned to his friend. He took a deep breath “Y-you can't take him home!” The professor furrowed his brows, clearly confused. Bill’s breathing hitched, and he himself began shaking. Paul noticed and put a reassuring hand on his smaller friend. “You just can't… ok? Call my dad… he will pick Ted up” Suddenly the professor was no longer staring into the eyes of a concerned friend but was met with a fiery glare “Do not take him home” Paul took his friend reassuring him over and over before finally the four made their way to the classrooms. Ted looked expectantly at the suspenders wearing boy who stood still. He looked at him and upon further examination noticed how puffy his eyes were-

Oh god

I made him cry

That…That is the opposite of everything I wanted

All I wanted was to make him smile

But I hurt him

Ted felt his breathing increase rapidly and his body shakes more violently. He clutched on to the professor unconsciously who without hesitation took him in. He heard the older man voice questions and concerns but he couldn't speak.

Monster!

Failure!

What would your father think?

“NO!” Ted cried painfully, he fully nestled himself in the clutches of the professor who allowed him to. Tommy stood his ground and watched the confident boy crumple in front of him. His heart hurt, he hated seeing Ted this way. He carefully kneeled next to the pair and placed a soft hand onto Teds back, fully expecting Ted to recoil or push him away but was surprised by how the motion was welcomed. Tommy allowed Ted to adjust to this before he glanced at the professor and they made a silent communication. Tommy took both his arms and carefully wrapped them around Teds much larger figure, the professor let go slowly keeping his attention on the boy. Tommy held Ted who was now much calmer, he was exhausted. He greeted the hug from the smaller boy happily because he was just so tired. His head ached with, his entire body was frail and weak, his hands were barely felt as hot sweat seared through them. He nestled his head into Tommy's neck and felt himself shut down. He closed his eyes after taking a deep breath and allowed himself to just turn off.

~~~

“I'm going to commit murder” Bill stated confidently (Same Bill)

“Bill” Paul yawned “Don't… don't do that” He said weakly, Paul was exhausted and had already spent enough time calming down his friend. He had a million things wracking his brain, worry for Ted flooded him, exhaustion seeped through him, boy am I broken.

“I am! I'm gonna… I'm gonna-” His friend paused voice growing in anger and annoyance “Kick his head” Bill declared, even he sounded unsure in his words.

“I'm sorry” Paul said half asleep “You're going to… correct me if I'm wrong… kick his head?” Bill let out a huff of annoyance before continuing his rant.

~~~

“Ted, how are you feeling?” Henry asked looking at the young boy who now sat on the couch in the teacher's lounge. He was leaning onto another boy that Henry recognized, Tommy Sweet. The smaller boy kept a protective arm around Ted, Henry felt a flutter staring at the scene. Ted let out a tired groan and opened his eyes rubbing them, Henry felt himself swoon. He had seen the boy around the halls and in his classes, he always seemed so arrogant and outgoing and confident but here, now? He was small, and tired and scared. He was sweet and Henry couldn't help but want to give the teen everything he wanted. Although Henry could tell, he rarely asked for anything. “Ted?” He repeated softly, not wanting to startle the boy.

“Hmm” Ted hummed weakly, he rubbed his eyes once more and sat up slowly. He looked around at his situation and Henry saw a flash of panic in the boy's eyes, Tommy must have seen it too. He moved quickly, strengthening a careful hug around the boy, Ted pleaded silently for an explanation, Tommy nodded and ran reassuring fingers through Ted's hair. “W-what's… what am I doing here?” Ted managed after a moment between the boys.

“We brought you here to… get some rest and get you away from everything” Henry explained cautiously, he kneeled in front of the boy offering him a glass of water. He took it calmly and drank it slowly, it burned his throat, but Henry looked too happy for Ted to say anything. “Ted… Bill warned me not to take you home… is there something I should know?” Ted swallowed nervously and wished to be anywhere else than here.

“I..I…” Ted began but much to his luck, the door burst open. He felt disappointed, he was so close to telling someone

What would your father think?

“I'm here!” The overly charismatic Theatre teacher burst into the lounge carrying supplies and a blanket. Ted immediately perked up at the sight of his teacher, Chad had always been a favorite. Henry spun around eyes wide, worried filled them, Ted’s curiosity peaked. “I know you told me not to worry, but how could I not? Ted is one of my students and I..I” The excited man was interrupted by a loud sneeze causing the two boys to flinch. “Excuse me…” He mumbled. Henry let out a very exasperated sigh. “I just wanted to help”

“Dearest” Henry called

Record scratch

Ted’s eyes widened at the simple word, it was said with annoyed adoration. Ted tilted his head slightly looking at the two eccentric teachers. And then… everything happened

“You should be at home-”

Home? Like their home? That they share? Or like-

“-Resting, you're sick love”

Can you call your friend, who is also a teacher, love?

Dearest

They are cute

Disgusting!

That last one was clearly something his father left in him. Would it always be there? This gnawing feeling anytime he thought he could enjoy being who… who he is? Ted was pulled out of his thoughts as his theatre teacher let out a small groan and flashed Henry a very small look. It was clearly a familiar look, Ted looked to Henry who seemed as though he had just melted entirely.

“Fine, but only because I can't stand your puppy eyes” Henry finally decided, Ted was bewildered, what the fuck is happening? The two teachers turned back to face Ted and immediately began to worry at his look of horror.

“Ted? Ted are you alright?” Chad rushed over, keeping a safe distance. He didn't want to overstep his boundaries or get the poor boy ill. Ted gave them a very empty confused look, why were they so worried?

Were they together?

Can you do that?

Be together?

What wou-

Ted heard a familiar giggle that once again pulled him out of his own mind, he turned to the right where he found himself still slightly leaning on Tommy. He didn't move, he didn't want to but Tommy was displaying an unusual amount of giddiness. Tommy met the eyes of a very confused Ted, and two almost glaring professors and immediately stopped.

“Sorry, um… but I think..” He paused looking to Ted “Respectfully sirs… I don't think he knew you two were..” He cleared his throat uncomfortably “Together” That last part was barely whispered. The pair of professors looked to Ted re-examining his look of bewilderment before bursting into their own small fits of laughter.

“Our apologies Ted” Henry said collecting himself “We didn't mean to… ambush you” Chad snickered more behind him, this boy was absolutely precious. “But… and I don't mean to make fun of you… how could you not know?” Henry asked innocently, Ted scrunched his brows, a tad annoyed.

“You...how… well I..” He thought for a moment

Oh my god

How could not have known?

It was painfully obvious

They shared the same last name! You absolute buffoon!

“My mistake” he mumbled defeated, he was exhausted at this point. All the energy of this new revelation drained out as he unknowingly plopped back onto Tommy's shoulders. He heard the three others let out soft small laughs as his eyes felt heavy and he drifted off once again.

Maybe I could do that one day

Be married…

And so his slumber brought him there.

~~~

“There is something he is not telling me Chad” Henry argued quietly in the corner of the lounge. He looked over at the boys who had both now fallen asleep. “Bill was pretty adamant about him NOT going home... “ Chad took Henry's hand rubbing comforting circles in the palm like he had done many times. Henry was one for over-exerting himself and causing so much stress to fall upon his shoulders.

“Henry… I love you, very much-”

“I love you” Henry said unconsciously interrupting his partner, it's not my fault, I hear the phrase and I just have to say it back. Chad gave a soft roll of his eyes, you are such a dork, He thought.

“Well I’d hope so, we are married” He teased before moving on “But love, you cant be this… oblivious” Henry perked up “Come on you're smart, I'm not one to make assumptions but-” He saw Henry's confused face, oh brother. “A young teen, raised religious might I add” He begins to explain, Henry listens “Finds out he might like more than what he is supposed to, he-” Chad ponders for a moment “He comes out to his parents… and suddenly his friends don't want him at his house? He moves away anytime someone tries to touch him? And he means well but did you see the look of disgust at the revelation that we were together?” Chad gives Henry an expectant look. Suddenly the pieces fall into place.

“You're not saying…” Henry gasps slightly, Chad quickly interjects

“I'm not one to make assumptions ok? I would never judge on the first encounter but… I don't know if I feel comfortable letting that boy go home… did you see the bruises on his arm?” Chad's voice gains an unhealthy amount of concern and his breathing hitches. “I just… Henry” He pleads, Henry nods quickly pulling his husband into a comforting hug.

“I know… I know..” Henry strokes Chad's hair lovingly “But it won't be like that ok? We can do something this time, I promise…” Chad nestles into his neck nodding, unsure of his promise but grateful at the attempt.

~~~

“Ugh, he's such a dick!” Alice exclaims upon returning home, Paul groans annoyed at her volume. She throws her things on to the couch, as Paul lazily does the same. He curls up into the blanket left there and dozes off peacefully. Alice rolls her eyes at him, he snores ok? It's annoying.

“Language! Alice Matthews, what have I told you about-” her mother enters the room spotting a sleepy Paul, her voice softens as she makes her way over to the tired boy. “About your language” She finishes in a whisper, pulling the blanket further over Paul and kissing him lightly on the forehead.

“But Mom…” Alice whines, almost immediately being shushed by her mother “I caught him cheating on me! Again” She huffs, she feels herself get emotional. She wasn't the type to do so. Her bottom lip quivers, as her eyes threaten to explode with tears. Her mother spots this and goes over quickly embracing her daughter. She strokes her daughter's hair adoringly, as Alice buries her face into her mother's shoulder. “I don't understand what I'm doing wrong” She claims defeated.

“Nothing, you're doing nothing wrong my little wonderland” Her mother soothes her, continuing her reassuring practice. Alice laughs sadly at the nickname and allows herself to cry into her mother. No doubt soaking her mother's clothes, not that she cared, she just wanted her daughter to be safe. They stayed in peaceful silence, as sadness and love breezed through the air.

However, one more fiery emotion was wafting around. It was filled with bitter anger and a very fed up manner.

I'm going to kill him, Paul vowed silently.

#tgwdlmhs #sycamore high #musical theatre #theatre #musical #starkid #tgwdlm #the guy who didnt like musicals #joey richter #jon matteson #corey dorris #robert manion #jeff blim #mariah rose faith #writing #my writing #ao3 #archive of our own

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cleverbroadwayurl · 5 years

Text

It Only Takes a Taste (Jeremy Heere x Reader Pt. 22)

Song: It Only Takes a Taste from Waitress

Word Count: 6316

Need to Catch Up? The links are weird on this site! Check my masterlist!

A/N: Oh my god I’m not sure how I did it, but I promised it and here it is! I know that there’s been a lack of content lately, and I’m trying to fix that while making a living for myself and wow it’s getting to be a lot! But I will keep working at it and trying because I know when writing gets posted, others are more inclined to create as well! So here’s part 22!! Credit to: MJ!!

Taglist: @retrogarden @be-more-heidi-hansen @scarsonthecuffsofyourjeans @bluhimaweirdo @catatonic-kuragin @stargirl-murphy @dee-writes-fics @macbookpro-hard-drive (I thought I’d tag u bc this fic was literally like your idea)

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of an abusive ex-boyfriend, mentions of intimacy. mentions of fear of intimacy, implied trauma, mentions of trauma, self-depreciation, mentions of the SQUIP, mentions of The Play, mentions of previous fic parts, IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW

Jeremy nods, and stutters out a quick “okay” before you practically vanish before his eyes. Everything and everyone around him was almost static, as if you hadn’t been there at all. But the tingly feeling in Jeremy’s heart and hands said different. It was something different within him. It was the first time he’d left and had some kind of security when thinking about you. Everything almost worked out, was almost perfect, and it was like….god he didn’t even know. You trusted him. You were okay. And in a solid night, he had gotten everything he’d wished so hard for—and he wouldn’t trade that for the entire world.

The Heere household hadn’t been so clean in years. Jeremy’s mom was the last person to really get it sparkling, until this very second, in which Jeremy was counting plates, blankets, amount of food, sodas, waters, amongst other things that had been perfectly laid about for an arrival that had been planned days in advance. Of course, you’d seen the Heere household in its usual somewhat cluttered glory before, but this was different, this was new, this was planned.

But it wasn’t a date…or was it? Jeremy stood for a second and stared at an old painting that had been there as long as he could remember. Was this a date? It was a planned interaction between the two of you, you coming over in what, 20 minutes or so? And yet, there was that same lingering feeling in the air, like you were still off limits like this was just the typical friend thing that he and Michael did. You were just coming over to play games…but then again, that could be counted as a date. He’d heard of other people doing that, but he also heard that there was sometimes no romance to it. Of course, he had Google searched it because his gut was just as unsure as to the logic. He knew that you wanted to be there. You’d texted him first, he brought up the idea of game night, you liked it, said you’d come over in a few days, now minutes, and he was still confused about the entire event. But, instead of pushing romance onto you, Jeremy made a definitive decision that this was a friend date. Yeah, just a friend thing. The last thing Jeremy would ever want to do was make you feel pressured into something you weren’t ready for. He assumed you’d seen that so many times before, and he wanted to be a source of comfort, a source of happiness. He just wanted to make you safe.

The ring of the doorbell catches him off guard, and he runs to answer it, the small window not being completely transparent to display who was really out there. He really hoped it was you and not a religious group asking if he had thought about Christianity that day. With a flick of the lock, and a twist of his wrist, the door was opened, and there you stood, almost basking in the light radiating from the house.

You’d mentioned you would be wearing something comfortable because it wasn’t worth it to play games in jeans—Jeremy agreed, of course, meaning he was in his own sweatpants and t-shirt—but even though you stood in pretty much the same attire, Jeremy couldn’t help but feel underdressed. For the first time ever, you stood on Jeremy’s doorstep, a genuine smile on your face, shoulders tall, and no fear emitted from you. It was the first time Jeremy had seen you healthy in front of him, your cheeks a normal color and your eyes as bright as Jeremy could ever only imagine them. Seeing them in real life felt like a fantasy of some kind. Nervousness creeps its way into your features and Jeremy suddenly realizes he’s been staring at you for like two minutes straight, oh my god, he has to say something otherwise it’ll get more awkward.

But why were you nervous? You should not be the one who’s nervous. You were a good person, even though Jeremy had seen the slander that had happened against you on social media less than recently. But you knew Jeremy, and Jeremy knew you. Meaning all of that stuff that was said Jeremy knew was only conjecture. He knew that it was lies and attempts to get people onto your ex-boyfriend’s side. Some believed him, Jeremy was sure, but your reputation only got stronger with Jeremy. He saw it as you being so successful while the things you left behind put up a fight before dying. It was a triumph. Your nerves became more and more apparent, and Jeremy began to mirror that, his own hands beginning to sweat because oh my god he definitely didn’t say anything like he was supposed to.

“Sorry I’m late, I had to change after work, and they kept me late so uhh…” you began hands fidgeting with the edge of your sweatshirt. Your eyes darted downwards, and Jeremy resented himself for making you revert to old habits.

“Oh! It’s fine, actually, uhh the food was uhh late and it’s totally okay,” Jeremy rushed out.

You giggle at him as he opens the door and lets you inside. He knows you’ve seen his house before, but you still stop to take it all in. It’s different. It’s new for both of you, but good. There’s something in the air as Jeremy stares; your eyes following the structure of his living room before they finally land back on him. He blushes and turns his eyes towards the ground, cheeks and ears getting hot. Jeremy can feel every little droplet of sweat…god it feels like he’s going through middle school again, a smile on your adorable face as he does so. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt before he asks if you just want to head down into the basement. You smile and nod, heading towards the door and down the stairs as Jeremy grabs a pizza and some water. Jeremy can feel the smile on his face grow as he carefully steps down the stairs and into the already-lit basement.

Jeremy sets the pizza down in front of the TV and beanbags, far enough away where both of you have leg room, but not so far that the pizza is unreachable. You sit on one end of the room, while Jeremy sits on the other; beanbags having so much space between them, Michael could probably take a nap in the space. But it feels right. For some reason, space seems to be a requirement before continuing with the night. There’s no pressure to touch, there’s no pressure of accidents, and for some reason, it feels like a decision that needed to be made, and was, mutually.

Eyeing up his own game collection, Jeremy turns to you, realizing that you’d been watching him, almost as he’d been watching you. “What did you want to start with?”

“It’s up to you” comes your response, corners of your mouth turning upwards. Jeremy can feel his heart beating faster at that, along with the fact that you were admiring—no—observing him from a distance. Your eyes glistened in the dimmed lights, almost brighter than any afternoon summer sun. He hadn’t seen that ever, even when he’d first started noticing you. It had always been slightly dimmer. But this? This freedom, this happiness? Was something Jeremy was so glad he had the opportunity to witness in his—friend.

It’s only now that Jeremy realizes that you had just cast the decision of what to do onto him. His mind raced with options, none of them being worthy of your time, especially since you hadn’t shown a preference and you were the guest, so this would be a tough choice. He wanted something fair, something that both of you could get into, even if that meant he would have to sacrifice winning. Maybe winning wasn’t important with you around. Jeremy decided that as long as you two were comfortable and having fun, anything would be fine. That’s probably why you put the decision onto his shoulders. Jeremy could recall you mentioning something about Mario Kart before, and he thought that was a safe choice, even though he wasn’t the best at it, to say the least. Michael would drag that into a melodrama about just how terrible Jeremy was at Mario Kart, but it was something that was current common ground between you and the nervous boy. He moves slowly, almost like the rules that had been distinguished in that basement so many months ago were still significant. He finds the cartridge and puts it into his switch before turning on the system. He takes a glance backward, almost checking to see if everything is okay with you, and he watches as you observe the screen, biting your lip as you do so. It isn’t a soft biting of the lip, it’s almost like you’re nervous, like that’s a way to take the stress out of the situation. Maybe the rules were still significant. You two were alone in the house, basement door closed with heavy and steep stairs leading to an exit. Maybe that was scary. Maybe that was nerve-wracking.

But instead of dwelling on trying to decide what would ease you, it was almost like he knew that actions would soothe that more than anything. He grabs the attachments for the joycons, allowing both of you to play instead of just one player. He held out them in front of you, blue and red controllers both set up for playing. The title music played softly as he wordlessly smiled and gestured to pick whichever one you wanted. And that was a true no preference choice he’d laid out in front of you. Left or right, red or blue, Jeremy didn’t care as long as you were comfortable. The weight of the choice brings your face down, the glisten in your eyes dims, and your hand gently grabs the red one as Jeremy’s other hand grasps the blue one. Your expression doesn’t change as you gingerly hold the joycon and get your hands in place for playing. Your nerves hit Jeremy hard, but he was glad you managed to choose the one controller you wanted.

Jeremy had ended up with the blue one, the left-handed one, but he didn’t mind. You were sitting, observing the controller before he hit start. And finally, things started to ease within the room.

With a few quick button presses, the multiplayer menu is displayed, more choices set in front of both of you. He looks at you again, seeing which one looks like the best option. But your eyes are almost stuck on the cursor on the screen. It’s almost like you’re scared of what is going to be picked. He brushes the thought aside and gives you a choice once again. His own preferences for what he wants to do are out of the door. Even as just friends, Jeremy’s priority is providing a comfortable place to just relax for a second. That’s how he and Michael had managed to become friends without filters. Michael wanted to battle in Mario Kart?? He’d say it, loudly, and usually compromising with later rounds. Jeremy was able to do the same, friendly arguments are healthy. They make sense. You’re allowed to disagree with the people around you. But then again, maybe you weren’t scared of the choice, but rather really wanted to do a particular type. Just to be sure, he somehow verbalized his concerns: “Is there a type you wanted to do? Grand Prix? Just races? Or Battle?”

“Any of them is fine with me,” your smile almost seems forced, like something is keeping you on edge. The very last thing Jeremy wants to do is make you uncomfortable, but this seems like it’s something bigger than him.

“Okay. I know I’m still working through 100cc, so did you just want to help me out with that?” Jeremy asks, hands becoming sweatier as he asks.

“Sure!” You smile at him again, more genuinely this time. He can see the ease drip into your posture, You bat your eyes towards the ground, before gripping your controller.

He selects Grand Prix before looking to you once again as your eyes concentrate on each cup like they were an intensely written sensation novel instead of just simple “Fun English” chosen by game writers. “Is there a cup you like that I haven’t completed?”

“Uhh kinda weird and retro, but Shell cup,” you say, eyeing up the courses, light coming back in as you do so.

“Shell cup it is.”

As the cup begins, your smile gets wide and you ease into the bean bag a little further. Your hands grip the controller as you get ready to race. It doesn’t even take a look for Jeremy to realize that you’ve relaxed, and he does the same. It’s a friendly game, both of you not worried about winning or losing in the present moment, just having some fun as friends. As the course is showcased on the screen, you two share a smile, followed by a chuckle, and the race beginning.

“I love Moo Moo Meadows,” you blurt out, red grazing your cheeks, like it was a fact that was embarrassing.

“Oh no way, me too!”

And that was the truth. He almost always saved Shell Cup for the last because of Moo Moo Meadows. One lap goes by, and then another. It feels too fast, like the Game Theory episode suggests. Racers, according to the episode, go anywhere from 120-200 miles per hour, just like Jeremy’s heart at this moment. He glances at your face as you steal the lead, your concentration just as heartwarmingly adorable as it had been in senior government. But this had more heart, more passion, it felt like something more beautiful and purely stemmed from something good rather than a dumb group activity. He notices your body tilted with the kart as your character on screen turns and drifts, the sparks around the tires turning from orange to blue. Your thumb flicks and the kart straightens out, giving yourself such a lead that Jeremy swears he’s never witnessed, even when playing with Michael.

His eyes turn back to the screen, and he’s doing somewhat well. Except not really, since his character is in 10th and bound to hit a wall at some point. You’re onto lap 3, and Jeremy is a little over halfway through with lap 2, but it doesn’t matter. He’s just happy that you’re having fun and helping him get that cool trophy, even though for his favorite track, he was doing rather terribly. He glances again at your screen, and you’re still in first with an even better lead, and he’s sure that not even a blue shell could make you place second. Jeremy makes a note to not look at your screen anymore, that it’s causing him to lose places every time he does it. He speeds up, and finally finishes 4th, which isn’t too bad for his favorite track and for messing up so badly halfway through.

The cup flies by faster than Moo Moo Meadows ever did, but Jeremy’s heart kept the pace. The scores are predictable, you did mention that you were rather good at Mario Kart. You’re in first while Jeremy’s keeping fifth. But for the first time ever, he doesn’t care. Frustration doesn’t come with fifth, it’s rather warmth and grace. There isn’t taunting like there usually is with Michael, instead, he gets you stating “keeping a place like fifth is so difficult, I’m impressed. First is easy once you get there.”

As soon as the cup finishes and the final scores are displayed, you earning a three-star ranking, a sticker, and a perfect first, Jeremy still keeps his average at fifth. He usually gets fifth or sixth. First or fourth, maybe, on a good day. But instead of saying something sweet or even a “good game”, your face pales, eyes stuck once again on the screen. Your elbows are practically digging into your body, hands gripping the controller so hard that he can practically see your knuckles turning blue. There was something so familiar about this behavior, the way your shoulders shot up in discomfort, the way your razor sharp focus was unforgiving and isolating, and the way you held everything you had.

“Wow,” Jeremy said, breaking the silence, and hopefully the tension that kept itself locked in your body, “you’re really good at Mario Kart.” You just nodded in response, nothing else moving but the slight movement.

Jeremy’s mind raced faster than it had in a long time. Did he do something wrong? What happened? In that short amount of time, his mind tried to recall every little thing he’d said, every movement, every detail that had been placed in front of him, no matter how small. Did he accidentally move closer to you? Did you catch him staring like a creep? He didn’t remember accidentally bumping into you or touching you without consent in any way, shape, or form, besides maybe brushing hands when you’d grabbed the controller from his hand. But that was before the Moo Moo Meadows conversation when you’d seemed to relax so much. And if he had accidentally brushed you or something, he’d immediately apologize for that. He couldn’t remember anything that had happened over the course of the four races. But then again, your perceptions were different than his. His mind might forget something but yours might keep it locked away forever. And leaving it silent was worse than just asking, apologizing, and getting it resolved, rather than keeping it in the open air, where it could really hurt you.

“I’m sorry if I uhh, made you uncomfortable or anything.” Your eyes met his and he swore they pierced his soul. “That wasn’t my intention, if I did.”

“What?” you asked, confusion now flooding into your face. After a breath, you started again: “Jeremy, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just uhh, I guess I like forgot something while we were playing. Just remembered it now. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Jeremy paused, unsure of what you were referencing. He was near positive it wasn’t a good memory. Something told him to speak up again, just to say something to fill the silence that surrounded the room. “Is there anything I can—”

“N-No, it’s fine. Do you want to race again, or maybe do something else? It’s up to you,” your eyes lost his and refocused on something else.

It was now that Jeremy realized that you didn’t move. You hadn’t moved. Usually, there was some shifting for comfort while playing a game and relaxing. But it had been several minutes, and there was no movement from you. It was like your body was a statue, rusted to the bean bag, unable to be moved. Something was very wrong. But if you didn’t want to discuss it right now, or frankly, ever, that was okay. And Jeremy accepted that.

He decided that maybe Mario Kart wasn’t the best idea, especially since he was so bad at it. And if him losing every race seem to only make the tension in the room swell, maybe it was good to just let the game go and choose something else; for both of your sakes. Of course, when it came to picking games that were fair for both of you, meaning probably no first-person shooters from middle school or anything, he decided to choose the great equalizer of all party games. Although it was a bad idea to pull it out, Jeremy thought that the best thing to do was switch over to a less popular part of one of the Nintendo franchises: Mario Party.

Of course, Friendship Ruiner 8000, as Michael liked to call it, included motion controls, which Jeremy was again, not good at. But he figured their janky-ness would even out the skill sets and make it more of a fair fight, even though Jeremy was sure he would be too caught up in you to actually play the game to his best ability. But trying was worth it. You were worth it.

“Do you want to maybe play Mario Party 8? It’s the only Mario Party I have, but I figure that the motion controls are so bad, it would be fun to just kinda laugh at,” Jeremy asked, his eyes flicking towards you. He was telling the truth about the motion controls. Yes, sometimes the controllers stop registering movement. It’s just frustrating for games like Skyward Sword but infinitely funny for games like Mario Party 8 or Wii Sports.

At last, your entire body shifted, like your soul was coming back into view, like everything had just been worked out, no strings attached. “Jeremy,” you started, a smile forming on your lips, “you trust me enough to be friends with me at the end of a Mario Party game?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” you stopped for a second before a full smile broke out on your face, even though discomfort still seemed to be at the forefront. A red crept into your face as you continued with your thought: “you must really think I’m a good person or something.”

“Well yeah,” Jeremy blushed in return before he rushed to change the game and console.

“Now it’s been a little bit since I’ve played Mario Party 8, so I’m warning you now, 2v2 games are going to be rough with me,” you said, hands pulling your sleeves down a little bit.

“That’s fine,” he reassured, “motion controls are weird anyway.”

You gave a chuckle as you continued sitting, getting more comfortable within the bean bag chair. “True.”

The game quickly started and both of you were met with less than ideal graphics—when did the Wii get such a pixelated screen?—and the odd mascot appeared before the two of you. His weird laugh came through the speakers, and more choices appeared on every screen. But suddenly, choices became easy. The type was of course 4 player, two being you, two being computers, 15 turns—to make it interesting, and any course except the city one that’s somehow a ripped off version of Monopoly. Finally, the character selection screen appeared, and Jeremy waited for you to pick your favorite original Mario character, just so he wouldn’t take something that would be claimed as rightfully yours, for the game, at least. Once you were done selecting, Jeremy picked his favorite franchise character, one that is overlooked by many people, specifically men. Jeremy Heere chose Princess Peach.

“Peach?” you asked, eyeing him.

Jeremy’s skin went aflame, he could feel the familiar tingling from his toes to his ears. His mind raced for justification, a quick answer, a solution, for why he chose Princess Peach. But you surprisingly beat him to it.

“She’s cool, Jeremy, I’m just surprised. Maybe I should’ve picked Mario or something.”

At the small comment and remark of romantic tension that was still lingering in the room, Jeremy turned every little bit redder and he swore that his heart skipped a beat. Was that you…flirting? With him? Jeremy had never seen that before, especially from you, and especially since you’d been strictly off-limits for so long. Maybe it was playful. It was a joke. It was something that he shouldn’t dwell on. You probably weren’t dwelling on it.

Somehow, the next few decisions happen, and Jeremy is able to form coherent enough sentences to vouch for the computers to be on Hard Mode, just to even the playing field between skill levels.

The game starts immediately, both computers pulling ahead and already placing traps on spaces that are supposed to be +3 coins. Both computers get an added 3 coins, for landing on the space, and both you and Jeremy make fun of the randomized way that both AI are playing the game.

The beginning of the game quickly switches to halfway through, and by now you’ve moved closer to Jeremy, bumping each other periodically, so far behind the computers it’s almost laughable. Each minigame is spent in a fit of laughter as both of you are clearly doing what the instructions are telling you to do, but the motion controls aren’t picking it up. It’s sweet, fun, and most importantly, relaxed. The now somewhat-cold-pizza is starting to be eaten, neither of you cares about how it tastes, but rather, what the moment means.

When the game finishes, Jeremy maintains a steady third, with you in second thanks to the bonus stars that are given out after the game is finished. Although both of you felt that you really didn’t do anything special, it was almost like the game took pity on you, and chose to give both of the actual players some bonus stars.

But between the two of you, the places don’t matter. It was fun to just play an interesting game with one another, despite the casual reputation it has among other groups. Each turn out of the 15 was exciting, fun, and laughable, considering how bad you two were doing. Instead of being put against each other, the two of you had an alliance; a method of teambuilding that couldn’t be fabricated by anyone. This was something special, and there was almost a bond formed that game, something that wouldn’t be easily forgotten or erased. And the room now had comfort practically written on the walls. Of course, it was a comfort with each other. The physical, more touchy, comfort wasn’t present in the room. There was still space between you two, and something still felt right about that. Maybe it was Jeremy’s mind consistently telling him to lay off on certain kinds of affection, especially since you two probably weren’t dating, and to keep his space.

The pizza was nearly gone, a final slice just sitting in the box, neither one wanting to touch it. The excitement of the game before had exited, and leaving in its place easy silence and exhaustion. It was late, and while Jeremy definitely wanted you to stay at his house for as long as you could, it was your choice to leave. He might be bummed out for a few seconds, but then would be honestly grateful for the time he got to spend with you, which was worth much more than feeling sorry for himself in his basement like usual. So he decided to leave an ambiguous question out of the equation of the night and instead decided on suggesting to watch a movie. It wouldn’t take much effort, and leaving halfway through would never be a crime, especially since Jeremy was not the person who wanted to take away that freedom. “Hey, do you maybe want to watch a movie? If you have to go, that’s fine too, but I thought I’d ask, like, just in case you didn’t or something.”

“Sure, Jeremy. That sounds nice after Toad totally kicking our asses.”

Jeremy let out a small chuckle before he flipped off the Wii and changed to the PS4. After cycling through the apps on the menu, he found Netflix and booted it up, the classic Netflix noise making its way into the basement. You sat back on the beanbag as the noise rang out, taking a more relaxed posture than you had the entire night. Although you seemed to be a little more at peace, Jeremy’s mind kept crawling back to the same thought: what even was tonight? The Mario and Peach comment made it seem like a date, but you two had never dated or established dating before, and the beginning of the night seemed only friendly. But now it felt so…date like. And of course, it wouldn’t be any date, no, this was the first date. First dates were uncomfortable, awkward, and kind of hard to swallow. They made even the most confident people cringe. They almost take the appearance of an interview for the rest of the relationship. And Jeremy didn’t want that. He’d rather keep the feeling in the room going and choosing something that wouldn’t make either of you uncomfortable. So he had to narrow his search: nothing with a sex scene or domestic violence of any kind. It would be too hard on you, he assumed, and it would crush him to make you upset on your possibly first date.

“First date?” you inquired, eyes scanning him.

Jeremy jumps up and nearly throws the controller, not realizing that his thoughts had been muttered aloud to the person sitting next to him. “Y-Yeah, because I thought well, the Mario and Peach comment, and I—”

“Jeremy,” you chuckle, smile breaking through and remaining. You finally make eye contact with him and Jeremy can feel the fear creeping up into his features. Wrong move, dumbass. “This isn’t our first date—” shit shit SHIT “—It’s like our fourth.”

For a second the world stops turning and Jeremy can feel his brain reeling back. How the heck was this a fourth date? Those other times he’d spent with you weren’t dates, were they? What counted, what didn’t count, what was in between? How did he miss something as big as this??? He didn’t really want to imply romance, even back in the moments, but this still felt like—

“Our first date I think I count as the time I came over here, even though that was a pretty bad circumstance. Our second was making breakfast, which again, bad circumstance, but still kind of a date. Our third was like four days ago, which, dancing together seems pretty romantically inclined, you know?”

Jeremy can only nod. He does know. He just didn’t think you had wanted—and still wanted—to date him. He’s been overthinking every interaction for over a year, each moment, each sleight of hand, everything that had happened before this very second. But for some reason, you explaining it like this, everything felt like it locked into place. The pieces are there, he just needed reassurance to fit them together.

“Therefore, fourth date,” you gesture around you, and Jeremy suddenly realizes that this was a date. The games, the lighting, the way you made jokes, the discomfort that had now morphed into comfortable bliss, it all felt like a date to him, and he had just wanted to respect your space.

“If that’s okay with you, of course,” you mentioned, hands quickly playing with your sleeves again, eyes darting downwards as if you’d done something wrong and made a terrible mistake. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, and I wasn’t going to if you weren’t thinking it but like you just said—”

“No, I agree with you. Completely. I’m just surprised I didn’t like…come up with it sooner.”

A small smile reappears on your face. “You’re valid, Jeremy.”

Instead of a movie, both of you settle on a light TV show, not really getting into the plot, but rather just relaxing in the dim light of the basement. With no one around, it feels like a lost peace that was recently found, like it was a treasure that couldn’t be seen by anyone else. The first episode ends quickly, another one just starting to play as the silence continues. There’s no awkwardness, no commitment, no extra things to be wary about and nothing that needed to be said. For that first episode or so, things felt like they were supposed to feel. Warm, simple, easy.

A thought occurred to Jeremy as the silence continued: he should be closer to you. This is a date, right? Did you want to hold hands or something? Did you want to be closer, and just didn’t know how to request things? Should he just go for it? No. A quick glance at you told him no. Your eyes were on the screen, captured by the show. Your eyes didn’t even match his for a second, meaning you were comfortable where you were and didn’t want, or frankly need, anything extra. Jeremy just being there was enough. His eyes refocused back onto the screen, getting into the show once more before your voice broke the silence between you two, and the quiet murmur of the show.

“Can I talk to you about something?” you ask, hands still fidgeting as you face him.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Because like, we’ve established this like relationship thing, I just…I wasn’t open in my last relationship, which was my fault and a major mistake.”

Jeremy held his breath but didn’t say anything. How could he? He didn’t know about what happened behind closed doors, wasn’t sure about the things that were said to you. In his mind, you didn’t get the chance to express your feelings or be open. You didn’t have the opportunity to have a good relationship, except maybe in the first little bit. But what did he know besides what you told him? How could even attempt to argue with you on something he legitimately knew nothing about? He wasn’t. At last, Jeremy nods, almost asking you to continue your thought.

“I, uhh, god where do I even start with this?” you breathe deeply before continuing, the breath shaky and uneven. “Jeremy, I can’t…do things yet. I can’t—I’m not—Fuck—I am so—” you took another breath—“I can’t be normal. I just…I can’t like…I have a really hard time with intimacy and romance and I just…I can’t even do simple things like hold your hand—not that you’re gross oh my god I’m so sorry that’s how it sounded—but like…my brain and body won’t let me do that for some reason. I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m so sorry, but I just…can’t be normal. I can’t fall asleep around you, I can’t hold your hand, I can’t be a good partner yet. I know you probably want to do that, and I just wanted to bring it up so you aren’t hurt or confused or something because I can’t do it. I just…I have baggage, Jeremy.”

Jeremy can hear tears starting to form, your voice thick. He knows what it means. He knows that you’re hurt, you’ve been hurt, and he knows that what your “not normal” is probably self-blame and trauma from what he could only catch glimpses of before. And while you’re here saying it’s your fault, Jeremy recognizes that it’s not yours, it could never be, but a particular someone’s, who should remain nameless.

“I know we’ve kissed before, but if we could just…hold off on that please for a little while, that would uhh, be great. And it’s a dumb thing to ask, and I’m sorry I have to ask it, and I know it’s a dumb me-thing, and—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jeremy turned towards you and paused the show as you take in a large breath and prepare for what he’s going to say. But he knows that this is something that’s hard to put into words, hard to handle. He knows this feeling, and he knows what should come after it. “It’s okay. We can wait. We can wait on everything for as long as it takes for you to feel comfortable. I understand that it’s hard, I mean, after the play junior year, I kind of had similar boundaries. But I dated someone who gave me patience. I’ve been forever grateful for that, so I want to do the same for you. You deserve that patience and to be comfortable in your own skin.”

“I—” you started, mouth open, eyes frantically blinking, “Thank you. I mean…wow, I really just…wasn’t expecting that at all.”

“You’re welcome.” Jeremy smiles and lets you have some time to take care of yourself, to calm down and really come back to reality a little bit. He offers his hand out if you want to grab it, but if not, he’s not hurt by it. He knows that sometimes you need physical space as well as emotional space, and wouldn’t be offended if you chose not to grab it.

“Can I ask you something weird?” the question drops into the room harder than a weight being dropped.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Can we like…can we just like function on consent for a little bit? Like we ask before just…touching, even if it’s something small, and can we uhh ask for consent for like kissing and stuff? It’s a weird and tiring request, I know, but…”

“Of course we can.”

“Thank you.”

Jeremy shakes his head before continuing the conversation. “You don’t need to thank me, they’re your boundaries and I want to respect them.”

A tear rolls down your cheek, and Jeremy’s eyes catch it, but doesn’t move to wipe it away. That would be cruel after what he’d just been told, and it feels like every night before is flooding back to him. Touching you before required consent. This was the same thing, the same circumstances, the same hurt. It was different, though. This was him having this conversation with you, this was the fear that he’d break them like they’d been thousands of times before. This was to prevent extra breakdowns that didn’t need to happen and to keep you safe, as much as he wanted to do that while you were in his arms. He’d rather not imprison you during the relationship. He’d rather let you roam free as the birds flying above.

“You have no idea what that means to me,” is finally whimpered out.

Neither of you touch one another, and Jeremy’s hand is discarded. You two finish another two episodes before you gather up your stuff and head up the stairs. Upon request, Jeremy doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t try. He doesn’t ask for consent, because something told him to let you have your space tonight: over text, spatially, over social media, and in any other capacity. You thank him for the night, with promises to text him the next morning, before leaving and heading out to the car that Jeremy’s dad knew too well. No kisses, no touching, but confusion about the Mario Kart incident before still unsolved. But that was another boundary he wanted you to have space on.

You had been wronged before, you’d been confused, cheated out of a life that was set for you that was supposed to be happy. Your ex-boyfriend had done wrong. Jeremy wanted to do it right.

#Jeremy Heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine #bmc x reader #bmc imagine #be more chill x reader #be more chill imagine #bmc self insert #be more chill self insert #Jeremy Heere self insert

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softhaos · 5 years

Text

PURELY PLATONIC

pairing – joshua hong x reader genre – fluff description – you never expected to find a new friend due to ranting about lee chan. you also never expected to find a dumbass spreading the rumor that you and joshua were suddenly a couple. alternatively, you and joshua are really just friends without benefits but uh, everyone else begs to differ. warning – none word count – 4,774 words author’s note – for once, i’m not writing a crackfic, i think? it came out so much more different than i initially planned (which was basically three months ago sdjjk) either way i hope you enjoy xx

set in the victorious universe | can be read as a standalone

You are going to kill Seokmin. As soon as he fixes the mess, that is. You’d love to end his life right there and then, but his early death wouldn’t solve your wifi issue. There is no plausible explanation on to how Seokmin managed to cause a power outage in your apartment but the fact is: with no electricity available, there’s also no wifi.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. You could go several hours without wifi, that’s not an issue at all.

However, when you have to finish revising your article for the college newspaper and send in the final draft of your work before five in the evening because you value your wellbeing and don’t want Chan bitching at you for approximately a month, it becomes a very big issue. And as much as you like to joke about falling off the stairs, you don’t want to actually die due to Chan latching onto you and expressing his annoyance about your inability to report back in time.

You only have three hours left to edit the word vomit you produced and the next best location where you can work is the Pow Wow café two blocks away from the apartment complex. There really aren’t any downsides to the coffee shop: their coffee is heavenly and the internet connection works just as fine as your own. It’s a genius solution.

What you didn’t calculate into your brilliant masterplan is the peak time at Pow Wow. You realize that the moment you step inside the café.

The interior hits the mark of comfort and zero tackiness. Black and red pillows are lying on the couches and give the place more life besides the pale green and beige accents on the wall. There’s a reason why Pow Wow is pretty much considered the best café on campus grounds. The loud chatters blend in with the Bob Marley song that’s playing in a moderate volume from the speakers and become almost inaudible to you as you scan the place for a free table. The disappointment strikes you hard since all you are met with are unfamiliar faces. Whenever you spot a free seat, either the clutter on the table refrains you from claiming it or the person just returned from their refill back to their clutter. The odds are definitely not in your favor today.

At this point, you’re already dialing Mingyu’s phone number in the hopes that he could pick you up and let you abuse his (very shitty) wifi. Any internet connection suffices, you figure, and if the next best thing is Mingyu’s horrible wifi, you just have to suck it up. Your plan C for everything has always been Mingyu and so far, it has always worked out.

Except for this time, it doesn’t.

“Please leave a message after the–” you don’t bother speaking into the answering machine and slip your phone back into your pocket. Maybe you shouldn’t have expressed your desperate need to behead Seokmin, that’s possibly the reason why the odds are not in your favor at all.

Nonetheless, since you’re already here, you might as well get your hourly dose of caffeine.

“Anything else?” the barista – Minki is his name according to the name tag – asks as he writes your name on the cup before sliding it to his coworker. The overly bright smile that is bound to be a forced one never leaves his lips.

“A good wifi connection and some silence,” you shoot back intuitively.

Startled by the given answer, Minki raises a brow and nods understandingly. “Ah, I wish I could have those privileges too.”

He’s about to add something when one of the other workers call your name, a sign that your order is done. You send him an apologetic, fleeting glance before you scurry off and grab your drink.

Cup in one hand and phone in the other, you’re about to dial pretty much every contact you have in hopes that at least someone would be so kind enough and give you their wifi. You’re almost by the door when you suddenly collide against someone and stagger. But before you end up on the ground facedown, warm hands have a firm grip on your shoulders and prevent you from losing balance. Surprisingly, you don’t spill your coffee or drop your phone.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I–” your mind goes blank and the words lingering on your tongue are forgotten when you see his face.

“You sure?” he asks again, brows furrowed in worry. His jet black hair is messy from the wind and some strands reach down to his eyes. However, you still recognize him faintly even if his appearance is different than usual.

“You’re Joshua from Professor Ahn’s composing class, aren’t you?” you blurt out and immediately regret sounding so ecstatic. If it weren’t for your both hands that were already holding something, you would’ve clamped your mouth shut. Judging by Joshua’s startled reaction, you might have as well beamed at him.

“Uh…” he chuckles lightheartedly but is still weirded out, “Y/N, we’ve been in the same course since the beginning of the semester, which by the way, started a month ago.”

“I only ever see you with glasses, so excuse me for not recognizing you right away,” you improvise and scrunch up your nose when you brought up the glasses. Technically, you didn’t lie to him. Up until now, you’ve really only met him with specs perched on his nose.

You haven’t talked a lot with him – scratch that, you’ve never exchanged a word with him before. There has never been a reason for you to approach him and even if you wanted to approach him at the end of a lesson, he’d rush out the classroom as fast as the wind. If you’re not mistaken, he’s pretty much the first person to be present before the lesson and the first to leave the lesson.

Joshua seems to believe you and rubs the back of his head. “I really do look different without glasses, huh? But back to the point. You looked awfully stressed just a moment ago.”

“Karma,” you deadpan, “Or long story short: A friend of mine trashed my wifi, he’s fixing it at the moment but I have to submit my article for the newspaper in a few hours unless I want Chan haunting me.”

Joshua feels the pain to well and cringes at the mention of Chan as if you had set off a foul memory of his. “Chan can be… a handful.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Who does he think he is, running around and acting as if he were God?” at this point, you already lost track of time just ranting about the head editor of the official college newspaper. You must’ve been complaining about your life dilemmas for so long that one guy rudely tells you to not block the way to the exit. That was the incentive for Joshua to pull you away and one moment later, you’re sitting right in front of him.

You’re about to let out all your pent up anger about Seokmin on him when he interrupts with a small smile and hand gesture.

“If you want to rant on, I’ll be glad to lend you an ear. But seeing as it’s five pm in a few hours and you still haven’t sent in the final draft to Chan, I suggest you work on that first.”

“That’s awfully nice of you,” you mumble after a moment of silence. That doesn’t stop you from pulling out your notebook and setting it on the smooth wooden surface.

Your comment triggers a wholehearted chuckle. Joshua slightly tilts his head back but quickly recovers after taking a sip from his refill. “Chan’s wrath? Been there, done that. I wouldn’t even want to have the people I dislike go through that.”

“That bad?” you inquire playfully.

“Think Professor Jang’s wrath but a little less Professor Jang.”

You almost choke.

“That’s it. I really have to pull myself together,” you say monotonously and open your article about this year’s talent admission contest. A quick glance at the clock suffices to get your gears working at lightning speed. You still manage to swallow a frustrated groan when you look at the word vomit and suddenly realize how much editing is really needed for this piece.

You may have successfully refrained your voice from exposing your misery, however, your face speaks for itself. You don’t bother to look up or you refuse when Joshua asks, “Need help?”

“If you can help me edit this article, you’re my lifesaver,” you shoot back instantly while keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

Joshua snorts in response. “I used to work on a project with him. Several times, actually. I don’t usually speak highly of myself, but I am confident that I know what floats his boat and what doesn’t.”

This time it’s your turn to let out a burst of laughter. “People still use that saying?”

“That’s Chan’s language when he’s feeling really artistic.” Joshua grins before he stands up and occupies the chair beside you. In the blink of an eye, he’s suddenly leaning towards you and meddles with your laptop so that he can also view the screen. You don’t miss how his eyeballs almost fall out of their sockets as he quickly skims through the words. “Did you write a novel or something? And you’re crazy enough to edit this monster by yourself?”

“Look, I get carried away easily–”

“Samuel Kim deserves better,” he reads out loud and you feel the blood draining from your face.

“...and I tend to be very subjective,” you trail off. Suddenly, editing your article by yourself seemed like the better option. Maybe even having Chan pestering you is the better–

Okay, that’s definitely a lie. You’re not going to finish that thought.

“Let me just share the link so I can access the draft from my own laptop,” Joshua suggests as if he were asking for your permission first. That seems to go down the drain as his nimble fingers are already working fast while he’s speaking. It doesn’t bother you though.

What follows after he accessed your article from his own device is comfortable silence. Besides the occasional comment from his side concerning your statements about some contestants (he was very persistent about the runner-up Ha Yoonbin in particular) and the background chatter, the main sound you perceive is your fingers feverishly hitting the letters on the keyboard.

The two of you are so engrossed in editing the article that you barely process the time. It’s when Joshua returns to the table after grabbing a refill for the two of you that you wonder how long you’ve been working on the text. Your heart stops beating when you realize that you only have five minutes left before the deadline.

However, after skimming through the visibly shorter word vomit than before, you deem the article as fair enough and send Chan the final draft.

With the weight finally lifted off your shoulders, a wave of relief washes over you.

“Joshua, you're my lifesaver. I'm dead serious here,” you say while gazing at him with an equally serious face. “By the way, thanks for the refill. Wait a sec, I'll grab my wallet—”

“It's on me,” he cuts you off and sets the cup on your table before you can refuse. “Seriously, it's no big deal. I'm glad I could help.”

Your eyes flicker from him to the cup and then back to his face. Shooting him an incredulous stare, you set your fist on the table to prove a point. However, he doesn't seem impressed judging by the quirked brow and waits for you to elaborate.

“It doesn't work like this. You don't spontaneously help me out with an over 20,000-word article and buy me a coffee. On top of that, you don't want to be paid back? That's unacceptable!” you declare and demonstratively repeat your action.

A fond smile paves its way onto his face. He attempts to say something but always pulls back in the last moment. So after what feels like a moment of silence too long, he proposes, “Fine, if you really insist, then you owe me one. I don't know when it'll come in handy but let's say I need some help with an assignment for composing class, you'll have to help me out. Deal?”

“Fine by me. But what about the coffee?”

Joshua’s eye twitches. It's a faint movement, barely visible if you don't pay enough attention yet you still pick it up. You refrain yourself from pointing it out though.

“How about you buy me one coffee as we continue our discourse about things Chan does that annoy us some other day?” he inquires after a while, fingers tapping an irregular beat on his cup.

You detect the playfulness in his tone but you also know he isn't completely joking regarding this matter.

A smile erupts on your lips.

“Text me whenever you're free or feeling like it.”

You really did spend several hours at Pow Wow ranting about Chan and his antics. Along the way, you might have found more topics you could collectively complain about or praise that led to a second platonic date.

And a third.

And more after.

Sometimes your conversations even escalated into a debate about the talent admission contest a few weeks back.

(“Ha Yoonbin should've won and any other opinion is invalid!”

“Well, in the end, you're Boo Boo the Fool because believe it or not, Yoon Jeonghan won the contest fair and square!”

“I don't deny his talent but Ha Yoonbin!!!”)

Either way, new topics led to more meetings and at this point, you lost count of the number of times you and Joshua have hung out. He’s easy to banter with and to an outsider, it may seem as if you two have known each other for ages. It’s borderline scary how quickly Joshua picks up your humor and therefore, it also doesn’t take too long for you to clown him the way you clown Seokmin–

You admit you clown him a little less than Seokmin. Nonetheless, his reactions are priceless and it’s not your fault that he gives you enough material to tease him about.

“One day, the broken glass song will rise again,” you promise him, observing his every reaction.

He groans in response and hides his face behind his hands. “Don’t you dare bring it up again.”

“How can’t I? Your meme-worthiness is on the same level as the backpack kid!”

He gives you a death stare but it comes off as a pathetic attempt of a glare, almost whimsical even. The cold look never suited him in the first place, you think because his features are all soft and it’s simply impossible to look unapproachable with his face.

“Don’t compare me with him, Jesus Christ.”

You chuckle lightheartedly and raise your arms in defense. “I was just messing with you! Okay, fine, I’ll shut up about it.”

“Thank you.”

“For now.”

Joshua looks like he’s about to kill you. His eyes might not say so but the rest of his actions do. You don’t miss the way his hands grip his mug tighter, causing his veins to show up slightly. However, he keeps his artificially sweet smile and resorts to changing the topic.

“Jokes aside, I need some help concerning a song.”

That catches your interest. “A song, you say?”

“I feel like some of the lyrics are off,” he explains and finishes his coffee. “Besides, you still owe me that.”

He’s right. While you have spent a lot of time together, the situation where he would need your help hasn’t arisen up until now. Of course, you haven’t forgotten that – even if your memory wasn’t the best, you couldn’t ever forget that he helped you with your article.

That’s how you end up in his bedroom of the apartment he shares with Kim Taehyung, another Seoul Arts student whose major you don’t recall. All you know is that he’s very invested in stage plays but is never the main role of any play. Oh, and he mixes very delicious cocktails.

Joshua’s room is fairly big, but it’s surprisingly very clean. His bed is neatly made, there’s no clutter on his desk by the window, there’s no book missing on his shelf and the several guitars he owns are standing side by side, right next to the closet.

Your eyes flit through the lyrics Joshua handed to you while he’s busy tuning his guitar. The lyrics are cute, endearing even – what else do you expect from a love song titled “falling for u”? It seems as if Joshua’s love (or addiction) for coffee is so strong that he even included it in his lyrics.

“So tell me truthfully–” you look up and smirk “– who is the muse for this song?”

At that moment, Joshua’s cheeks take a faint shade of red. “There is none,” he mumbles and adds in a louder voice, “Anyway, should I sing you the song?”

“Don’t bullshit me,” you scoff because there’s no way that he just came up with the lyrics without a person in mind. The words are too personal for that matter. “If it makes you feel more at ease, I promise I won’t tell anyone and if I do, I’ll buy your coffee until the end of the year.”

As if he doesn’t believe it, his eyes go wide. But as fast as he widened, he squints as you suspiciously just as swiftly. “You do know I drink a lot of coffee. Your wallet is going to suffer,” he points out slowly.

You roll your eyes and prop your chin on your palm. “Of course I’m well aware of that. That’s exactly why I said it.”

Joshua studies you hard, conflicted whether he should really trust you or not. His muse for this song must really be someone he’s really crushing on, you figure. While it is some very valuable information and definitely something you can tease him with, you’d never go behind his back and pass it on to others. That’s a big, red no-no.

“Fine, but you really can’t tell anyone else,” he warns and you nod frantically while you move to a sitting position on his bed.

“So uh…” he rubs the back of his head and avoids your gaze, “It’shmmnhung.”

You cock your head to the side, thousand invisible question marks floating over your head. “Who?”

Joshua stares at you, silently asking you if you were serious and turns as red as a tomato. However, he sighs once and repeats his sentence much clearer. “It’s. Kim. Min. Kyung.”

Your last functioning brain cells only process the name slowly. You blink at him dumbfoundedly several times until you finally matched the name with a face. When the realization finally hits you, you nearly fall off the bed.

“What?! You do know she has a girlfriend, right?! This–” you screech while waving around with the lyric sheet, “–is downright a confession, so what were you even thinking?!”

“Of course I do!” Joshua replies in the same frantic manner before elaborating, “This song was written before Minkyung and Yaebin got together and yes, I’ve stopped crushing on her. She was just the inspiration for this song and I find this song too good to dump it.”

“Good.” you nod appreciatively and cooled down from the shock. “I mean, not only good that you’re not going to be petty and break them up or something but good that you’re confident in your songs too.”

“I try to.” he shrugs.

“It’s a start.” you wave your hand as a sign for him to start singing. “Now show me what you’ve got, Mister I-try-to-be-confident-in-my-songs.”

You’ve never heard Joshua sing before, so naturally, you’re mesmerized by his voice from the moment he starts singing. His voice isn’t all too powerful and you doubt he can belt like Seokmin, but his tone is smooth and sweet like honey and the guitar just complements his vocal color. The song is simple in itself but you can already imagine the number of people listening to this while they study.

“I’m falling for you–” he sings with closed eyes and you note the small smile taking over his lips. He really must’ve liked Minkyung a lot.

And suddenly, the door flings open.

“Shua, can you believe? Jeongguk managed to get me tickets to that one show in Hongdae– oh?” Taehyung struts into the room, blue hair messily falling above his eyes but he instantly stops in his tracks when he sees you on the bed while Joshua’s sitting on the carpeted floor.

“–once again.” Joshua’s voice slowly drops into his normal talking voice and shoots him an incredulous stare.

“Uh, I didn’t know you had a guest. You should’ve texted me.” Taehyung’s eyes flicker from you, then to his roommate and then back to you. But once he has calmed down, he puts on a bright smile and addresses you. “I’m Taehyung by the way. I’ve seen you around campus, you’re an acting major if I remember correctly?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you admit and return the smile. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N, huh? Isn’t Joshua just great at singing and composing?”

“I mean, it’s the first time I hear him sing so I can’t be the judge of that yet–” you earn a huff from the said boy but don’t react to it, “–but so far, he’s promising.”

“You hear that, Shua? You’re promising!” Taehyung beams at an irritated Joshua. “If only he was just as promised when it comes to getting a relationship,” he sighs and lays a hand on his chest as if he were in deep pain.

“Oh, cut it off, Tae. I’m perfectly fine.” Joshua rolls his eyes in a playful manner.

“Well, with this song, he definitely would have someone by his side by now,” you singsong and scrunch your nose. This was a golden opportunity to pull the former Minkyung crush card on him.

Joshua seems to take the hint and tries to silence you with a subtle glare. “Stop that–”

“He would?” Taehyung asks curiously, gaze switching from you to the other guy.

“Tae, stop asking and Y/N, don’t answer–”

“Definitely, if only things were different. Right, Shua?” you stick out your tongue at him as an act of rebellion.

By now, Joshua’s ears have taken on a shade of red and he can no longer hide his embarrassment. The scowl that follows just contributes to it. “I did not ask for this clownery.”

“Fine, I’ll leave. Have fun, you two!” Taehyung says, points finger guns at his roommate and sends him a suggestive grin before he leaves you alone and closes the door quietly.

“By the way,” Joshua speaks up a few moments later, “You’re the only one who knows the crush thing – not even Taehyung knows. So I’d really appreciate it if you kept it for yourself.”

That new information genuinely surprised you. You were quite positive that he also knew and would like to dig deeper. However, you know that he has his reasons for not confiding in his roommate so you refrain from doing so.

Instead, you just coo, “Aw, so I’m the only one trustworthy enough to know of your former crush on Minkyung. Cute.”

You’re pretty sure you weren’t drunk last night and married a stranger you met. You’re pretty sure you didn’t even go out last night.

But the handful of people congratulating you for landing a boyfriend makes you doubt your memory.

You’re busy packing out your lunch when Seokmin startles you from behind.

“I thought I was your best friend!”

“What?” you shriek and look at him flabbergasted, spoon almost slipping out of your grip.

“I can’t believe I heard the news from someone else,” he whines and occupies the seat beside you with a hurt and slightly offended expression.

“Hold up.” you freeze and squint at him. “What are you even talking about?”

“You dating Joshua and not telling me first! That’s what I’m talking about,” he groans as if it were the most obvious thing ever and sulks even more.

This can’t be happening again for fuck’s sake–

“Joshua and I are just friends,” you explain cooly and probably for the 30th time in a span of three hours.

“Oh yeah, and that’s why Taehyung found you in Joshua’s bed and flirting with Joshua when he came home,” Seokmin grunts before he raises a questioning brow at you and leans in closer. “Unless he’s not telling the truth?”

Your jaw almost falls open.

Oh. So Taehyung, huh.

“I mean, he saw me sitting on Joshua’s bed...” you start as you recall your first meeting, “...but that doesn’t mean–”

“So you’re not denying it!” Seokmin cuts you off with a slam on the table. You flinch at the loud smack but luckily, nobody else in the cafeteria seems to notice. The place is quite loud anyway, so no one was going to pay attention to you anyway. “I’m truly happy for you but I’m also disappointed in you for not coming to me first.”

The timing couldn’t have been any better. While Seokmin resumes sulking a fucking lot, a familiar figure enters your peripheral vision. At some point, Seokmin notices your disinterest in him and follows your line of sight.

“Hey, there’s your boyfriend,” he points out.

You don’t even bother correcting him and slowly set down your spoon. “If you excuse me,” you mutter halfheartedly before you get up and walk towards Joshua, who’s standing alone.

No words need to be exchanged for you to leave the scene and talk alone in silence. Just like you, he wears desperation and tiredness on his face and you conclude that he must’ve been bombarded with congratulatory wishes too.

Once you have found a somewhat lonely spot on campus, you go straight to the point.

“Nobody is buying my words when I say it’s a misunderstanding.”

Joshua doesn’t answer right away. He takes his time to choose his words carefully and sort out his thoughts. The sigh of exasperation that leaves his lips after a while makes his frustration clearer.

“God, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have–” his mind is a jumbled mess right now, you can tell, and he readjusts the glasses perched on his nose before starting anew. “Taehyung–”

“Look, it happened, okay? It’s not even your fault.” you shrug but can’t help but sigh too. “I admit, it’s annoying that everyone is now talking about it and I doubt they’ll shut up soon.”

You settle into silence. But unlike the previous times, this silence is deafening and downright heavy. There’s no comfort in this void as you just stand there and try to figure out what to say next. Normally, you would either crack a joke or resort to a different topic, but neither seem like the right option.

The silence is deafening and downright a burden and remains one even when you’re the one to speak up first.

“This may sound bad but I swear it’s not as bad as you think. Plus, I think it’s the only way to get out of this mess.”

“Hm?” is the only sound he makes to let you know that he’s listening.

“Why don’t we just go with it?”

You dare a peek at him and find him sending you wordless questions. His brows are scrunched together and he looks so helpless, trying to understand your proposal.

“Nobody will believe us if we keep denying it. We might as well act as if we were dating and after a while, break up,” you elaborate and look away. Now that you said it out loud, it’s really a ridiculous solution. It’s blatantly stupid and idiotic and the worst idea ever–

It’s the only idea you have though.

You want to say something but he beats you to it.

“So you’re saying that we should fake date.”

“Yup.”

“We just have to hold hands to make it believable and then fake a breakup. That should work out. We don’t have anything to lose anyway, now do we?” Joshua smiles weakly in an attempt to lighten the mood. You go along with it.

“Is that a yes?” you raise a brow at him, the corners of your mouth slightly tugging upwards.

His eyes twinkle as he links his arm with yours.

“I prefer boyfriend, but whatever floats your boat.”

235 notes · View notes

creative-frequency · 5 years

Text

Connor|RK800 x Reader: Ocularity Ch. 12

Word count: 1999 Warnings/Categories: Eventual mature content, romance, friendship, fluff, light angst, explicit language, uncle Hank

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November 3rd 09:36 AM

Raid on CyberLife warehouse – police believe the suspects are deviants

Chiara Hale | Tuesday 2 November 22:35 | 235 shares

A group of robbers broke into the CyberLife warehouse sometime in the evening today in Delray. The value of the stolen property is estimated at hundreds of thousands of dollars. One of the warehouse’s security guard androids also went missing during the events of the robbery.

The suspects are deviant androids or are affiliated with an organized group of deviants. The police are currently investigating the crime and would not comment until more details are discovered.

– We saw nothing out of the ordinary and then count the trucks to see one is missing, the security guards of the warehouse say.

– No one got hurt, but we could just be lucky.

The GPS tracking system of the stolen truck was disabled as soon as it left the property.

An increasing number of cases involving androids are reported to the DPD every day. Statistics show these android cases have notched up the overall crime rate of the city for over seven percent during the past six months.