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cakelanguage · 4 years ago

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A very self-indulgent fluffy piece for RiVer. I just want these two to have a happy ending so I’m giving it to them! I hope you like this :)

You can also read this on AO3

It wasn’t even noon when V got a ping on her Agent from River. A small smile graced her face despite being in the middle of taking out another gonk for Wakako. The gig wasn’t hard - a simple in-and-out retrieval of some intel that’d fallen into the wrong hands, but even simple jobs sometimes involved taken out a guy or two. This one was harmless, not even worth the street cred it might get her for taking him out so she simply knocked him out and stuffed him in one of the bins conveniently posted outside the room.

Really it was like they were asking for people to just dump bodies in them. Actually, that was probably exactly what they wanted to happen. Fewer cleanups for the police to have to deal with and all.

Pocketing the shard that’d been on the desk, she pulled up River’s text.

Hey babe, you busy?

She grinned and quickly sent a negative to him. She barely found time to hang out with River, what with all the Arasaka and Johnny bullshit she’d been dealing with the past few months. Now that she wasn’t in imminent death from the Relic she honestly just wanted to spend some time with her boyfriend. Fuck if she wasn’t going to take advantage of River and her not being busy.

You available to call?

For you? Always. xoxo

She could almost hear Johnny groaning at her being mushy. She felt a pang of loss as she thought about the rockerboy and placed a kiss on her fist before she raised it to the sky. She hoped Johnny was out there somewhere giving the corpos hell from the deepest levels of cyberspace.

The call popped up and she quickly answered as she walked toward the drop-off point.

“Hey River,” V chirped, quickly taking in his appearance in the little window in the upper corner of her vision.

“V, hey yourself,” River said, a lop-sided grin settling easily on his face. “How’ve you been?”

She hummed noncommittally. “Can’t complain too much, definitely been missing morning cuddles though.” And perfect cups of coffee. And the polarity of temperatures between River’s cybernetic hand and the warmth of his skin. And kisses.

She felt needy, missing him so much and all the little things he did. But maybe needy wasn't so bad.

“I’ve missed them too.”

“Think we can change that then?”

“Yeah, case is closed and I’ll be back by this evening.”

If V could’ve purred with delight she would have. “Mm, I’m a lucky girl.”

River laughed, shaking his head. “I’m the lucky one.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks and she didn’t even try to hide her pleased grin. “As much as I’d love to just talk about how lucky we are to have each other, something tells me this isn’t strictly a pleasure call.”

Her boyfriend gave her an abashed smile. “You caught me,” he admitted.

She laughed. “Well go on, let’s hear it,” V teased. “What do you need? A contact? A lead? Someone, to do some super sleuthing?”

“No, no, nothing like that, it’s uh- it’s actually kind of a favor for me and Joss.”

Since she’d met River she’d steadily been getting closer and closer with Joss. It was nice to have another girlfriend, though with Judy and Panam, not to mention Misty and Rogue (if she could count Rogue), she wasn’t exactly lacking in them.

But Joss was different. She was a single mom who busted her ass to provide for her family. It reminded her starkly of her older sister back when the Bakkers were still around. And though Joss sometimes brought up painful memories for her, she loved the woman.

“I don’t mind helping you two out,” V reassured, finally dropping off the shard. She’d get the eddies within the next half hour and if need be she could split her earnings to give to the family. “Anything you need, I’m your girl.”

A husky chuckle echoes over the coms. "Anything, huh?"

"I helped take down one of the leading corpos in the world with an engram of a rockstar slowly taking over my brain - I'm open to just about anything at this point."

"Fair enough." River let out a breath of air. "Joss asked me if I'd meet her this afternoon at Heywood General Hospital to pick up Randy."

V's eyes widened. "He's been cleared for release?" She hadn't thought Randy would be released for another few weeks. It'd been touch-and-go at the beginning and although he'd come a long way since the farm, he still had plenty of recovering to do.

"Yeah, I was shocked too, but I've been visiting him and he's doing a lot better than he was."

Anything would've been better than the drug-induced catatonia that he'd been in when River and V had found him in that barn. She was still haunted by the half-lidded eyes and slack jaw that had been behind that plastic mask. "That's great," her shoulders relaxed from their previous position, "I'm glad he's doing better."

"Me too, and Joss is happy she gets to bring him home."

"He gonna be in his trailer again?"

River made a noncommittal noise. "That's up to him really. We don't know how he'll feel about being alone now but we've decided to let Randy feel his way through this one."

Made the most sense to V. "Alright so you and Joss are going to pick up Randy and you want me too…?" V asked, shifting their conversation back to the favor River and Joss wanted.

"Oh uh right yeah," River scratched the back of his neck. V wanted nothing more than to ease the man's nerves about whatever he was going to ask. "Since Joss and I are going to be getting Randy, we need someone to watch Dorian and Monique." He didn't pause to let her get a word in edgewise. "Usually one of the neighbors can watch them but most of them are busy and then I might've suggested that we could ask you." He scratched at his cheek and shifted his gaze to the side. "You can say of course, but I figured-"

"Babysitting the little rugrats?" V asked with a grin, interrupting her boyfriend's spiel. "You trust me to watch 'em?"

"V," River had that tone to his voice that was part scolding and part fond, "you're their 'Auntie V,' they'll be cheering when they find out you're watching them."

"I don't know, you did joke that I was the one who needed a babysitter."

He snorted and raised a meaningful brow. "And sometimes you do, but I have total faith in you on this. As does Joss."

"Well I guess I can trust Joss' judgment," V teased. "I can be there in twenty."

River's shoulders sagged at her acceptance. "Thanks, babe."

That mushy feeling returned with vengeance and V was sure she had some stupid look on her face. “Want me to make something for dinner?”

Her boyfriend whistled. “Got myself a lady who can kick ass and offer to make dinner.”

“Riv, come on,” she rolled her eyes trying to appear stern, “Dinner a yes or no?”

“Dinner would be great, to be honest. Joss and I were planning on picking something up on the way home.”

That wouldn’t do at all.

“Uh-uh, nope, no way am I letting Randy’s first meal out of the hospital to be some fast food soy protein that’s no much better than the shit you can get with a kibble card.”

“Hey, I’ve seen you eat that crap before,” River argued, though he looked more amused than anything.

“Details, details,” V waved a dismissive hand, “Randy have any food restrictions or favorite foods?”

Food had been a big part of V’s life growing up with the Bakker’s. Food didn’t just mean fueling the body, but feeding the soul. Her mother had once told her that a good meal could heal the body just as well as medicine. Looking back, V knew her mother had been exaggerating but she’d taken the statement to heart because a good meal showed someone you cared for their wellbeing.

Her boyfriend pondered her question as she pinged Jackie’s bike to meet her so she could leave.

“Well, he liked my jambalaya when I snuck some in for him to try last week.”

“Hot or mild?”

“Believe it or not, spicy.” His smile took on a bittersweet edge. “Told me it was the first thing he’d been able to taste since everything went down.”

“Then it’s good he got to taste something delicious,” V said.

River’s smile lost that edge and regained the softness he only showed when he was talking about his family or V herself. “Feel free to keep stroking my ego.”

V shook her head with a snort. “Maybe later,” she offered while mentally going through the repertoire of recipes she still remembered. Something spicy, strong flavors that the whole family would like. “Think he’d eat gumbo?”

“Gumbo?”

“Yeah, learned to make it back when my family was still together...”

She remembered the crowded prep stations, her underfoot as she helped as much as she could under her mother and sister’s tutelage. She remembered her uncle sneaking bits from the cutting boards and popping them in his mouth, sending her a wink and an exaggerated shushing motion to not say anything.

River didn’t interrupt her musing, instead, he waited patiently as she sorted her thoughts. He understood that if he interrupted V she wouldn’t finish talking about her past.

“Mealtime was one of the few times we all tried to be together and pause from our other duties,” V explained. “We made all kinds of stuff depending on who was in charge of dinner, but I know gumbo was my favorite and it’s similar to jambalaya.”

“A family recipe and your favorite, huh?” River commented, “I look forward to trying it.”

It didn’t matter that V hadn’t made gumbo in two years. She wanted to do something for her new family. "It’ll probably take me a little longer to get home since I’ll stop and get them on the way.” She revved the engine and patted the side of the bike. “See you, River, tell Randy we'll be waiting for him at home."

The silence stretched over the line and V had to make sure her Agent hadn't malfunctioned and dropped the call. But River was still connected, just stared at her with this shocked look. "You okay?" V asked.

Her question shook River from his stupor and he gave her a besotted look. "Yeah I'm fine," he reassured, "see you at home after Joss and I pick up Randy."

"Preem."

She snagged the veggies from an Aldaecado who sold some of their crops at the Sunset Motel and picked up some synthetic meat that didn’t look too bad and set course for the trailer park. The ride was as peaceful as ever and V cranked Jackie's bike to the max speed down the straightaways, shaving off five minutes from her ride. The Badlands were some of the best places to go full-throttle without having to worry about a bunch of traffic.

Joss stood on the porch while Monique and Dorian listened to whatever she told them, playfully jostling each other as much as they could get away with. As soon as they spotted V though, they dashed towards her with the exuberance that was only ever found in children. V knelt down with a laugh and opened her arms in invitation.

"Auntie V!" Monique cheered, reaching her first and throwing herself into V's waiting arms, scooping the little girl up into a full-body embrace.

V had quickly discovered how much the two kids liked their hugs and who was V to deny them that?

Dorian quickly followed, wrapping his arms around her legs. "Mom told us you're gonna watch us while she and Uncle River bring Randy home," Dorian said. "Which means we can play together again!"

V laughed and shifted Monique to her hip so she could ruffle Dorian's hair. "Only if you're willing to take this rookie under your wings," V said.

The two giggled and reassured her that they'd show her the ropes, both puffing up with pride.

She managed to slowly walk towards Joss with the two limpets clinging to her laughing and cheering. She saw the poorly hidden laughter that Joss was trying to cover up as just a smile. V was glad she could make the crow’s feet on the women's face crinkle instead of deepening the worry lines that were far too prominent on her friend's face.

“Hey Joss,” V greeted, shifting Monique enough so that she could pull Joss into an awkward one-armed hug.

“Hey, V,” Joss replied, pulling out of the hug. “Thank you so much for being willing to watch the kids.”

“Willing? I’m more than happy to watch them, you know that.”

V and the kids got along like a house fire and she cherished all the little games they’d play together. It gave V an excuse to check-out of adult stuff and focus on entertaining River’s niece and nephew. It had done wonders for her mental health.

Joss smiled and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Monique’s ear. “Still, I know it’s last minute. Neither River nor I were expecting them to give Randy the okay to leave the hospital.”

“And Randy’s probably been chomping at the bit to leave that place, right?”

The woman scoffed, shaking her head. “If he could’ve, I’m sure he would’ve broken out of there after the first five days.”

“A boy after my own heart.”

Despite going to a number of ripperdocs, regular hospitals, and trauma centers left her nervous and itching to leave ASAP. River practically had to drag her to the hospital just to get a full brain scan after the Relic incident.

Joss rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “We shouldn’t be more than a few hours at most. Pretty sure it’ll mostly be paperwork and finding out any home care we need to know about for Randy’s recovery.”

As usual, Joss was fairly matter-of-fact about the whole thing but she couldn’t hide her worry. V figured she’d be just as worried if her baby had gone through what Randy had. It didn’t help that her relationship with her son had been strained before and no matter how much they’d talked since the incident there was still the unknown of how their relationship would go once he was home again.

“He’ll be excited to see you,” V said, setting down the girl in her arms.

Monique tugged at Dorian’s shirt and the two were off chasing after each other.

Joss remained silent but her shoulders relaxed some. Finally, she seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts. “If the kids get hungry-”

“Feed ‘em something that won’t give them a sugar rush,” V dutifully replied. “I know, Joss don’t worry, I can handle these two just fine.”

Joss sighed. “I know you can, but a mother can’t help but worry,” she managed to give V a sly smile. “You’ll understand when you and River have a kid.”

V made a choking noise as her face flushed. “J-Joss, we-we haven’t even talked about marriage yet.”

“Hop to it, V,” Joss joked with a clap. “Need you to make an honest man out of my gonk of a brother and I want to be an aunt at some point in the near future.”

It was a nice thought, getting married and starting a family with River. It sounded terribly domestic and kind of wonderful if she was being honest.

But her and River could talk about that later.

Much later.

“Go on, get going,” V shooed, “Randy’s waiting.”

“Alright, alright, we can talk about giving me nieces and nephews later,” Joss relented. ‘If you want to get takeout, I have a few menus in the kitchen with Dorian and Monique’s favorites circled.”

“Actually I was gonna make gumbo,” Seeing Joss’ surprise she continued. “It’s a family recipe and I haven’t made it in a while but River said that Randy liked his jambalaya so I figured he’d probably like gumbo too since it also has a strong flavor. But uh if they won’t like it-”

“V,” Joss interrupted with a grin.

“Hm?”

“I really hope River does marry you.”

V blushed and returned her grin. “Yeah me too.”

She’d managed to make the roux for the gumbo while Monique and Dorian were playing tag and now she just had to let the gumbo simmer which meant she was completely free to play. The two were more than ready for her to join them, bouncing around her as she quickly donned the AR set.

The blue tint to ‘Trouble in Heywood’ flooded her vision and she took in the kids’ game personas: Captain Joan McClane and Lieutenant Henry Callahan. It still made her laugh when she saw them, the two rough officers that looked like they were ex-Militech before joining the force. It didn’t help that the backstories they’d given them were so serious.

“Didn’t know if you’d come back, rookie,” Captain Joan, Monique said, her arms crossed and her face stern behind her shades. “Thought what you’d seen when we took down El Chamuco Endiablado was still clinging onto ya’.”

Lieutenant Henry Callahan, Dorian scoffed. “Nah, the two rookies we worked with for the takedown were good, and that’s coming from me,” he argued.

“Sounds like we might’ve grown on you two lone wolves, huh?” V teased, cocking her hip as she checked her gun.

“Don’t get cute with me, rookie,” Captain Joan said.

V raised her hands. “Fine, fine,” she bounced her eyes back and forth between the two. “What’s the situation today?”

“With El Chamuco Endiablado gone, we created a power vacuum and the force is flaggin’ under the pushback,” Captain Joan explained.

“Which is why they’ve called us in,” Lieutenant Henry added, “Regular force just won’t cut it, gotta call in the best of the precinct to take these goons down.”

“We called you in for backup, rookie. All you gotta do is keep up and watch our backs, we can handle the rest.”

“No doubt about that,” V said, “But y’know, I gotta make it home to my partner, promised him I’d make it back.”

“The other rookie?” Lieutenant Henry asked.

“The one and only.”

Captain Joan shook her head and cocked her gun. “Battlefield’s no place for emotion, rookie,” she advised. “We need to dedicate ourselves to taking this filth out.”

V nodded her head and squared her shoulders. “Yes, ma’am,” she saluted, “Are we ready to start?”

Lieutenant Henry gave her a wild grin. “Those bad guys can’t escape justice.”

They ended up playing three different rounds of ‘Trouble in Heywood,’ each round further expanding the narrative. In the last game, Lieutenant Henry had gone rogue to zero José Luis, a Valentino who’d gotten away with murder because the NCPD “didn’t have enough evidence to convict him.” According to Captain Joan, Lieutenant Henry had been harboring secret feelings for the murder victim and he was out for blood.

Honestly, V wasn’t sure where the kids pulled these plots from, but they were endlessly entertaining.

She looked up from the pot she was stirring and made sure the kids were still sitting at the table she'd sat them at with a snack. It didn't look good to her, but Monique and Dorian cheered at the sight of it so at least they liked it.

She tapped her spoon against the rim of her pot and set it to the side. "What do you two wanna do now?" V asked, taking a seat beside Dorian.

"Mom usually makes us practice our reading and math," Dorian grumbled, his eyebrows scrunching together. "We aren't even going to school yet, it's like lightyears away."

"Lightyears, huh?" V mused, propping her chin against her hand. "That's a pretty long time."

"I know!" Dorian threw his hands up. "She says she wants us to be ready and stuff but it's so boring."

"The worst," Monique agreed. "But maybe since Mom isn't here…" She trailed off and gave her puppy dog eyes.

Yeah, that wasn't going to work on her. "Oh no-"

"Please, V?" Dorian begged.

Then it became a cacophony of pleading words and promises to work harder tomorrow. Taking them on one-at-a-time, but both of them at once? Not even worth considering arguing.

"If I let you skip this lesson time," she started, the kids already whooping beside her. "I said if. "

The two nodded seriously, “We’ll do it,” they promised readily.

V shook her head, squinting at them with a skeptical look. “I haven’t even said what you have to do if you skip your lessons.” Monique and Dorian traded confused looks before turning back to her. “The first rule of any kinda deal,” she held up one finger, “you gotta listen to the whole deal, otherwise you might be signing yourself up for something worse.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Dorian insisted.

“How can you be sure?”

“Cause you’re nice,” Monique said. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe not to you guys, but I’ve conned my fair share of gonks.” Their faith in her left a warm feeling in her chest. “Alright, but back to the deal. I let you guys skip, but you guys have to help me make a welcome home sign for Randy.”

Two pairs of wide eyes stared at her, mouths agape. “We’re gonna make a billboard?” They asked.

V bit her lip and shook her head. “Not a billboard, little short on time and really out of our budget.” She rifled through her pockets and pulled out a small device. “Had this bad boy for a while now, usually I use it to pull up my schematics or tweak one of my daemons, but I’ve got an app that’ll just let us create a design we wanna display.” She fiddled with her Agent and turned the phone towards them. “I’ve got the words, but I need two experts to really make it shine, figured you two would be perfect for the job.”

“Really?” Dorian whispered.

“Really really.” She leaned back, her smile relaxed and open. “I can do some graffiti or graphic style stuff, but you guys know Randy best.”

Monique kicked her legs back and forth and stared at the screen with a frown. “Last time we saw Randy, he didn’t want to hang out with us and said we were annoying him,” she mumbled just loud enough for V to hear.

Her heart sunk at the solemn tone of the girl’s voice. That was when Randy had been in Peter Pan’s grasp when he was being gaslighted with promises of understanding and promises of help.

You can tell a kid that their sibling loves them and what they were going through, but it didn’t erase the hurt that kid felt. And they didn’t fully understand.

Even so, reassurance was better than nothing.

“When Randy last talked to you,” V stated, making both kids look at her. “He was going through some tough times.” She picked at her nail as she tried to find the right words. How much did they know about what happened to Randy? “Do you know what happened with Randy?”

Dorian hesitantly shook his head. “We knew he went missing, and Mom said that you and Uncle River found him and brought him back,” he said.

“And he’s been at the hospital because he was hurt when you guys found him,” Monique added.

V nodded her head. “That’s the gist of it,” V admitted. She hesitated before continuing. “Randy thought he had a… friend, but when he went to meet this friend, he turned out to be a bad guy.”

“Like… the bad guys in our game?” Dorian asked.

V fought a grimace. “Worse.” When her statement was met with silence she continued. “Randy was captured and was hurt real bad while he was held captive.”

She’d never get the image of those kids gassed up and comatose, hooked up to those fucking machines out of her head. No matter what she did, she still remembers the frantic way her hands shook as she checked pulses on cool bodies and tugged out crusted IVs from limp arms.

“According to your Uncle River, Randy’s doing much better,” she reassured, trying to assuage some of their unease. “But he’s gonna need you two to help him, even if he’s grumpy and being mean.” She playfully punched her palm. “Sometimes you just gotta break through their defenses and make them understand. Which is why,” V gestured to her Agent, “We’re making him a special welcome sign.”

“And… it’ll help Randy?” Dorian asked.

“Showing him you care and are happy to see him can sometimes be exactly what a person needs.”

Monique and Dorian turned to each other and nodded before turning back to V. “You can count on us!”

V clapped her hands. “That’s what I like to hear!”

#RiVer #river ward #female v #v x river #river x v #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fic #my fic

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illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

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What You Want Me To Be

FUTURE MANAGEMENT MASTERLIST

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Summery: Roger makes a suggestion that leads to a little role reversal

Warnings: SMUT (18+), hypnosis, bimbofication, sub!roger, dom!reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex,mild feminzation/sissification - specifically through appearance

Words: 9222

A/N: So this was a request from my 1000 follower celebration. It took me roughly a year to actually write the damn thing but I’m really glad I finally did it! At first I wasn’t quite sure how to write himbo Roger but I think I did an alright job... I just hope he’s dumb enough lmao. Also this took a bit of a turn into a kink I didn’t think I was actually into so I’m not sure what came over me but thank god it did.

Song title is taken from Closer To You by The Cross (yet another song by them with big sub energy). Inspo for the hypnosis parts came from a few “intro to hypnosis” videos that are on youtube but the biggest inspo was THIS sleep hypnosis asmr that popped up in my feed months ago.

Taglist: @laedymoon @vee-ndetta @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @ohladymoon

“I have a proposition for you,” Roger said out of the blue as he pulled himself up to sit on the kitchen bench. You looked up from the pot of soup you were keeping an eye on, watching that it didn’t boil over, “What sort of proposition?” you asked with narrowed eyes. With Roger a statement like that could lead to just about anything and you were instantly suspicious. “What if we…filmed ourselves having sex.” The wooden spoon you’d been holding clattered against the side of the pot as you dropped it into the soup, “You want to make a sex tape?” “Yeah, does that excite you?” He raised his brows suggestively. “Maybe a little. What inspired this idea?” “Well what’s the point in owning a video camera if we don’t put it to use?” he laughed, “Plus I guess I was thinking it’d be kind of hot to film you when you’re all bimbo-y,” That was certainly not what you’d expected. A sex tape was one thing, maybe a thing you could get on board with if the right precautions were taken, but a tape of you under his hypnosis was a whole other question. “Close your mouth, love, unless you want to catch flies,” He laughed again, “What do you think?” “What I think...,” you took a breath, struggled to find the right words, “I can’t believe you’d ask that of me.” Roger seemed a little taken aback at your suddenly negative response but quickly recovered, “If you’re worried about someone seeing it then there’s no need. It’s not like we’d show anyone. It’d just be for us, when we’re away from each other or, I don’t know, just for fun. You could see yourself when you’re all spaced out. I know you’re curious about it and this would be your chance to see yourself like that.” He was right, you were curious. How could you not be? You knew what it felt like to be in that headspace, knew what it felt like to go blank and to obey whatever was asked of you, but you didn’t know what it was like for Roger, why he enjoyed seeing you that way as much as he did. “Just think about it for a second, think about how fucking hot that would be. And really you’ve got nothing to l-” “Don’t. You can’t just say that and expect me to suddenly agree to whatever you want. I’m not a bloody puppet you can control with a magic phrase.” “That’s not what I was trying to do!” “We both know what that phrase means in the context of this relationship Roger. Nothing to lose,” you scoffed, “Nice fucking try but this isn’t a question of getting me to be less inhibited or convincing me it’d be fun or brainwashing me into agreeing.” “I didn’t mean it like that, you know I wouldn’t do-” “And I don’t care how hot it would be for you. Do you have any idea how scary the thought of us filming that is? How vulnerable I am when I’m like that?” “Of cou-” “No, you don’t. You don’t or you wouldn’t have ask- Fuck,” you swore as the forgotten soup that had been bubbling away began to boil over. Turning the knob until the stove was off you quickly focused back on Roger, “This isn't the same as spanking or, or being restrained or anything like that. I’m literally giving up part of myself every time we play with hypnosis, giving up control in a way that is so…complete. I know we have backup triggers in place so that I can safeword if I need to and I know you wouldn’t abuse your power over me, but fuck Roger. Asking me to go into that headspace while you record proof of it, asking me to be that vulnerable for an audience, even if that audience is just us, is asking a fucking lot.” You sighed and looked over at the pot, “I’m not hungry anymore, I’m going to have a shower.”

“Y/N wait,” Roger slid from the bench and tried to take your hand but you shook him off and headed upstairs to the bathroom where you could think in peace without Roger’s concerned eyes or a ruined dinner to distract you. You worried you’d overreacted; it was only a suggestion after all. Not like he’d been saying you should film it right that second. He’d only been feeling out your interest. But it was also undeniably bold of him to consider making that request, seemingly without considering how big of a request it was.

You took your time in the shower, let your heart stop racing, let your mind calm. You still didn’t know what you were going to say to Roger. Maybe you could compromise, film something that wasn’t quite so exposing. Ruling it out completely didn’t feel right, not when it was something Roger was interested in trying and he’d been so supportive of trying things that interested you. And it wasn’t like you didn’t understand why he’d find the idea exciting. It was risqué in a way that made it thrilling. A light form of danger like having a quickie in the bathroom at a party – knowing there's a slim chance someone will see you but also knowing you can lock the door. Plus there was that element of an ego boost, seeing yourselves on tape, proof that he was as good a lay as he’d always claimed, proof you fit together as well as you felt you did. And if that had been where the suggestion stopped, just you and him in front of a camera, that could have been fun. But then he’d gone and said the b word and turned it into something else, something performative and invasive and terrifying. You only left the shower, thoughts still jumbled, when the water began to run cold. Wrapping yourself in a towel you headed towards the bedroom to find your pyjamas. Roger was already there. “Can I at least put some knickers on before you start in on it again,” you said, failing to keep your tone civil. “Can you stop trying to bite my head off when I’m about to apologise?” You turned away from your closet and crossed your arms over your chest, pinning the towel in place, as you waited for Roger to continue. “I’m sorry I didn’t consider the magnitude of what I was asking. And I’m sorry I said that phrase too. You’re right, it does hold a lot of context for us and I never want you to feel like I’m trying to manipulate you or to exploit your hypnotic triggers to get my way.” You sighed, all the fight leaving you with Roger’s apology, “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry I stormed off like that. It’s just a lot y’know? Even thinking about filming that. There’s a reason you are the only person in the world who knows that I get off on that kind of thing. I had chances to tell exes and never took them because none of them would have got it, but you made me feel safe enough to share it and you understand it.” “I thought I did but you’re right, I don’t know what it’s like for you-" “No bu-” “But maybe I should.” “-t really I shouldn’t have expect- wait, what?” “Maybe I should know. And not because I’m trying to change your mind about the sex tape but I- I guess it doesn’t feel fair that I get to put you in that state without fully understanding it.” “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” “If you think I’m suggesting that you hypnotise me, then yeah, that’s what I’m suggesting.” “Really?” “I’ve thought about it before. You mentioned it once a few months ago, about turning me into your bimbo,” “That was a joke,” you said incredulously. “And a very funny one. But I kept thinking about it a bit anyway and then tonight...it makes sense to try it, don’t you think.” “Rog, I don’t know,” “Just consider it, please? I would like to understand what it feels like for you when you’re tranced. And I think if we both had an idea of what it was like from the other side it would just make it better and more fun.”

“Okay, I’ll consider it.”

“Thank you,” Roger stepped in close to you, laying his hand on your cheek as the other settled on your waist, “I just want to look after you,” “You already do,” you lay your hand over his, keeping him pressed against you as you leaned into his touch. “Then I want to make you happy,” “You do that too,” “You’re an argumentative missy aren’t you,” he said with a shake of his head. “You wouldn’t like me half as much if I wasn’t,” Roger laughed and let his fingers fall down to toy with the top of your towel, threatening to pull it loose, “Can we kiss and make up now? You’re already almost dressed for it,” his sweet smile and soft laughter was infectious, making it impossible for you not to join in. As the moment faded he caught your lips, still smiling, “I love you,” “I love you too.”

Later that evening, curled up in front of the TV with Roger’s arm loosely slung around your waist, you dared to broach the subject again. “Did you really mean it about me hypnotising you?” “What part of everything I said made you think it was a joke?” “Okay, I guess what I’m really asking is are you sure you want to try that?” You readjusted yourself, turning to face Roger more, “For one thing I’m not sure I could take charge the way you do. And you remember how long it took us to get it to work on me, right? I don’t know that I’d be capable of doing it to you.” “Well to be fair to us, part of why it took so long to make it work was that we had no idea what we were doing.” “Mmm yeah, that’s true,” “But we know more now. And it doesn’t have to work straight away, we can take our time with it and try out different things.” “And what about me not being good at being the dominant one,” “Love, I think you’re selling yourself short. I’ve seen you handle the people who work for you, I’ve listened to you control a conversation even with those dicks who try to talk over you constantly. I know how bossy you can be, and I mean that in the best way possible. All you need is to know what you want and to tell me and it’ll happen. Anything else – the dirty talk and stuff – that's gravy.” “I can be kinda bossy, can’t I?” you laughed, “Yeah, maybe I could try it.” “You wanna give it a try right now?” “Now?” your heart began racing at the thought. “Nothing big or serious. But I'm feeling very relaxed and mellow right now, figured it might be a good time to start.” “Um, okay, yeah.” “Just do what I normally do to you,” You pushed yourself to sit up a little and Roger shifted to lean his head against your stomach. With a breath to calm yourself, you brought your hand to Roger’s hair and began raking your fingers through it the way he liked. He hummed softly. “I, um, I don’t know what to say,” Roger looked up at you and smiled, “Remember how we first started, the inductions we tried? Just talk me through what you want to happen. If it works, I’ll drop right to sleep when you tell me to, and you can suggest I cluck like a chicken or act like a mime or whatever you want. Then it’s just a matter of waking me and watching it happen.” “It sounds so easy when you say it like that,” “It kind of is once you get the hang of it. Or maybe you’re just an easy subject,” “Are you still feeling relaxed?” “Mmhmm,” Roger looked up at you and smiled, “You’ve got this, love,” You took a breath and tried to copy what you’d seen Roger do so many times before, the calming, confident way he spoke, as you continued to stroke his hair, “Focus on me, baby, just focus on my voice. Feel your eyes get heavier with everything I say. Feel yourself relaxing more,” Roger hummed softly as his eyes fluttered shut. “That’s right, just relax, you’re doing so well baby. Feeling so nice and calm and relaxed. And just sinking deeper and deeper. Sleep, baby, nice and deep.” Roger’s eyes tightened and his lips twisted into a slight frown. “It’s okay baby, just relax for me.” “Sorry,” Roger said, opening his eyes, “It’s not working,” “I knew I wasn’t going to be any good at this,” “No, you’re doing well, it takes a bit of getting used to it all. Also the TV’s still on which makes it hard to focus. What you were saying was good though, maybe throw in some more repetition. And I think there’s something about how you’re saying it that isn’t working. You need to sound more confidant, like you actually believe it’s possible.” “Okay, noted. Um, can we try it with you sitting up? Then I can try some other stuff I remember from when you were learning, the forehead tap induction and the arm drop thing.” “Brilliant idea,” Roger pushed himself to sit up on the couch, getting comfortable as you stood to turn off the TV. You dropped back into the seat beside him, crossing your legs under you as you faced Roger. Once again you centred yourself and tried to conjure up the confidence you’d been missing. When you felt ready to try again you reached for Roger’s hand, tracing your fingertips over his palm, along the length of each finger, his thumb, the back of his hand. “Okay, here we go. I want you to relax for me, focus on your breathing, feel each breath filling your lungs, nice and deep. And feel the air leaving you as you breathe out again. And then back in, big deep breath. Feel yourself relaxing with each breath, feeling sleepy. That’s right baby, in...and out...and in again. Each deep breath making you relax more and more.” Roger’s eyes were shut, leaning his weight against the back of the couch as he breathed in time with your words. “That’s right,” you brought your hand up to his forehead and gave him a small tap, the way you remembered him doing to you the first few times he put you under, “And sleep.” Roger’s head slumped forward. “Good boy. That’s right, now keep breathing, keep relaxing. Deeper and deeper with each breath.” You couldn’t help but smile at seeing just how you were affecting Roger, how loose his shoulders were, how heavy his head hung. Maybe you were starting to understand why he enjoyed it. “That’s right, just let yourself relax, let yourself feel loose and calm. In a moment I’m going to lift your arm a few inches and drop it back down into your lap. Let me do all the work. All you need to do is stay nice and loose and limp and relaxed. And when you feel your arm drop down, you’ll notice how much more you can relax.” You reached for Roger’s arm again, taking it by the wrist, and tried to lift it just above where it rested. “Relax for me baby, nice and loose.” Once more you tried to lift his arm by the wrist but again he tensed up. With a sigh you tapped on his forehead again, “Wake up Roger,” Roger lifted his head and smiled at you, “that went better.” “Right up until you wouldn’t let me lift your arm.” “I didn’t?” “Nope.” “It’s harder being hypnotised than I expected,” he shrugged, “But we can try again, right?” “Yes, definitely. Maybe after I’ve had a bit more warning though, some time to prep.”

It took another couple of weeks for you to find an evening when you both felt up to trying again. But the break gave you time to prepare. You found an old library book Roger had never returned from when he’d been researching hypnotism and skimmed through it, making a few notes of things to try and how to try them. When it came time to test them you and Roger took up your spots on the couch once more as you got him to breathe calmly and focus on you. You dropped him into the trance with the same forehead tap you’d used before, since you knew it worked, and talking to him with as much calm and as much confidence as you could muster. But once more, as you attempted to lift his arm, you found him resisting. “Nice deep breaths baby, relax and let yourself go loose. You’ve got nothing to lose.” You were almost surprised when Roger made a small humming noise as you reached for his arm again and found yourself able to lift it a couple of inches into the air before dropping it back to his lap. “Doing so well for me baby, being so good, just let yourself sink deeper. Deeper. That’s right, nice and relaxed.” You played around with a few of the deepening techniques the book had suggested to strengthen the hypnosis, asking him to slowly and softly count to ten, asking him to repeat mantras. You had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing when you realised it had worked. You’d successfully hypnotised Roger. “Very good baby. Now in a moment I’m going to wake you up but when I do, you’ll feel as if you’ve been glued to the couch. You won’t be able to stand up and the more you try the harder it’ll be, okay? Three, two, one,” you tapped his forehead again, “wake up.” Roger raised his head, blinked a few times as he readjusted to the light. “How was that?” “Really good, I felt more comfortable not being in control that time. Still a weird sensation though. It doesn’t feel how I thought it would.” “How so?” “I guess I expected to like black out completely but that’s not really it, is it? I still feel...alert?” “I know what you mean. It’s like you still feel like your awake even though everyone talks about sleep and it kind of doesn’t feel like its working, right?” “Exactly! What about for you?” “It all worked I think. You resisted a bit at first but I kept talking to you and got you to relax more and everything was fine.” “God that’s hot,” “I know right,” you laughed, “actually, do you mind getting me a glass of water, I’ve been talking a fair bit and my throat feels a little scratchy,” “Sure thing love,” Roger nodded, flashing you a soft, dreamy smile, as he braced his hands on the edge of the couch. But as he tried to stand the smile slipped from his face and his brow crinkled in confusion. “You okay Rog?” “Yeah, uh, just,” he tried to stand again, “I can’t ge- Y/N you fucker,” “I wanted to see if giving you a suggestion would actually work,” you laughed, “apparently it does.” “Alright you can stop this now. Please,” “Sleep,” you tapped on his forehead, watching as his head dropped forward once more,” “When I wake you, you won’t feel stuck to the couch anymore, you’ll feel entirely normal and be able to stand with ease. Wake up.” The tap brought Roger’s attention back to you for a moment before he pushed himself to his feet successfully. “Thank you,” “You’re welcome. How do you feel?” “Like normal. That was great though.” “It’s fun isn’t it, being put under like that,” “Almost as fun as putting you under.”

You laughed along with Roger as you headed to the kitchen, “I do feel more confident about it all now though. But I’m still not entirely sure how to do the next part and get you to go all bimbo-y.” “The trick is to try a longer induction. Just talking, almost like a conversation. I find it makes for a better drop than the suddenness of a forehead tap or a click or anything like that. I guess because there’s more opportunity to make you feel like it’s all your idea, which granted it often is. But it gets the brain to accept the bimbo-ness more easily. The only time I might use a quicker induction is if we’re playing with fractionation but that’s more advanced, and we want to keep this fairly basic.” “Easier for both of us then. Do you have a script you follow?” “Not exactly. I mostly wing it but there are a few things I tend to try and use. If I can tie it into something you’ve said, that always helps. Like if you say I’ve had a shitty day at work and need to stop thinking about it all, then I’d talk to you about letting go of the day, forgetting about work, stuff like that. If you say you want to play because you’re bored, I’d say something about how you can’t be bored without a brain or how taking dick is a good way to fill time or something like that. It builds on your existing feelings and makes everything stick better. Repetition is always helpful, counting, ummm what else,” Roger clicked his tongue thoughtfully, “You respond really well to touch so I try and play with your hair or rub your back as I talk just to focus your attention. Oh, of course I try to say you’ve got nothing to lose, or variations of it, at least a couple of times. Partly because that’s one of the trigger phrases I set up when we started doing this properly but also because, well, y’know, us.” “I think I can remember all of that,” “Don’t overthink it, love. Just say whatever comes to mind in the moment and go from there. You can always adjust what you’re doing as you do it.”

The next few attempts you made at hypnotising Roger were spent trying to get the hang of the longer, more conversational inductions. You tried the same methods he adopted, running your fingers over his arms and through his hair as you asked him to count his breaths, talking to him about his day or whatever was on his mind. Another time you tried something more traditional, getting him to watch one of his old necklaces as you swung it before his eyes. You had some mild success, able to put him under long enough to make small suggestions but not all of the suggestions worked. The real breakthrough came on a drizzly Saturday afternoon, sitting across from Roger on your bed, as you tried not to get too frustrated with how hard you were finding it to hypnotise him. “Love, don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it. Honestly, hypnosis and drumming are kind of similar because-” Roger kept talking but you’d stopped listening, struck by a sudden idea. “So if you think of it like that the,...wait, where are you -?” “Just give me two seconds,” You quickly sped down the hallway and around to Roger’s office slash music room. Sitting on the shelf that hung over his desk – neat excluding the open notebook, the visible pages covered in lyrics that had been crossed out and scribbled over, and his journal where he kept track of all his meetings and other goings on – was what you were looking for. An old metronome Roger had been given to help him learn how to keep time on his first ever drumkit. Obviously unused now, though he held onto it thanks to a slight sentimental streak and the idea that one day he may be able to teach your children how to play. He seemed surprised to see it in your hands as you re-entered the bedroom. “Well,” you said as you placed it on the bedside table, “I figure that, since you’re so musically inclined, having a rhythm to focus on might help you drop. I hope this thing still works.” “Worth a shot,” “If this does make it easier to drop you, what, um, what should I do?” “Are you asking how to initiate sex with me?” “So you do want to take it in that direction? You don’t want to start smaller? We haven’t done any of the prep stuff with setting safe word triggers and all that.” “We hadn’t done any of that the first time we had sex while you were all bimbo-y, it was only after we decided to play with it more regularly that we add all the safety precautions. “Yeah, I know, but-“ “I don’t think you’ll be doing anything too kinky, right?” “I wasn’t planning on it,” “Exactly. It’s not like there’s going to be restraints or anything like that. Just good old fashioned missionary or whatever you decide. And you know I trust you.” “I just want to make sure you feel okay with it all. I know how important it is to feel safe for hypnosis to work,” “Y/N, it’s fine. If you can turn me into a dumb slut, please do. That’s kind of the whole point of this. Also, if we don’t fuck now then I’m just going to try it on before bed anyway.” You laughed and nodded, “dumb slut it is. Now, can you sit over here for me?” Roger nodded and scooted along the bed, turning to face the metronome as you set it ticking on a slower speed. When you were sure it was working you hopped onto the bed beside him, walking on your knees until you were kneeling behind his back. “You mean I don’t get to watch you?” Roger pouted over his shoulder, throwing an arm behind him to try and find your hand. You caught his flailing limb and gave it a squeeze as you took a breath and tried once again to summon the right voice, “No, I want you to watch the metronome,” gently you pressed on the side of his jaw, encouraging him to turn and face the metronome, “follow it with your eyes. Watch as it swings back and forth. Back. And forth. And listen to my voice. Watch the metronome, listen to me. Of course, you know what a metronome is for, don’t you?” Roger nodded, though his eyes remained glued to the swaying device. “Of course you do. You know it’s for helping to keep the correct tempo, tempo, tempo. Especially for anyone just starting to learn an instrument.” You spoke close to his ear, trailing your fingers down until you were resting your hands on his shoulders, “But today it’s going to help you learn something else. Or, rather, forget. Focus on the beat as you watch the pendulum. Back and forth, back and forth. That’s right, just like that. Focus on the beat, focus on the pendulum. Every click of the beat pushes your focus deeper and deeper as you watch it swing back and forth. Swinging and clicking. Clicking and swinging. Just like that. Let it take you deeper. You’ve got nothing to lose by going deeper. Good boy, keep listening to the beat. Every click pushes you deeper, every click. Deeper. Click. Click. Click. Deeper and deeper. And every time you sink deeper, you find it harder to keep your eyes open. Feel your eyes wanting to close with every click. Click. Click.” Roger rapidly blinked as he tried to keep his eyes open, humming in agreement. “Don’t fight it baby, just listen to the beat, listen to my voice. Your eyes are getting more and more heavy. Getting more and more tired. With every sway of the pendulum, back and forth, back and forth.” Roger’s head nodded forwards as his eyes slid shut. “That’s right, just like that. Being so good. You know there’s nothing to lose by following my instructions, getting sleepier and sleepier. I’m going to count you down now. Ten. Keep listening to that click, click, click. No need to fight it, baby. Listen to the clicking, listen to my voice. Nine. Letting go of all control and all your thoughts. Eight. Letting your brain empty. Every click makes your brain emptier and emptier. Nice and easy. Seven. No room for thoughts. Just the click, click, click of the pendulum and my voice, my instructions. Six. Nothing to lose by letting go of your thoughts, letting your brain empty. Becoming so good and dumb for me. Five. And as you feel your head empty, as all your thoughts fly out of your brain with that clicking, you feel something else. You feel hornier and hornier. Four. With every click, click, click, feel more and more leave your brain. Hornier and emptier, emptier and hornier. So easy and dumb for me. Nothing left to lose. Nothing in your head except for me. Two. Good boy, nice and deep and dumb and horny. One.” You paused for a moment but Roger didn’t stir, just kept breathing deeply, eyes shut. Trying not to panic that you’d done something wrong you gave him a final instruction, “When you feel ready, when your head feels empty and dumb I want you to wake up okay?” You fell silent again, nervously rubbing your hands over Roger’s shoulders as you waited for him to respond.

Thirty seconds or so later Roger slowly lifted his head, blinking his eyes open. You breathed a sigh of relief and stood up to stop the metronome. Roger looked at you, frowning slightly. “Hey, baby, how do you feel?” you asked, bending down to look him in the eye. “Um,” he scrunched his nose up, “head…heavy.” It was odd to say the least, seeing Roger, who was normally so quick witted and intelligent and well-spoken struggle to put together two little words, “Is that all?” “No?” He thought for a moment more, face breaking out into a grin, “Good. I feel good.” “I knew that you would now,” “You did?” “No, like the song Rog. I Feel Good by James Brown?” You moved back to the middle of the bed, taking a seat, cross legged, Roger watching closely and imitating you. “Song?” “You play the record constantly.” “Record?” “Fuck. This really worked,” you laughed, excited that, seemingly, you’d managed to pull it off. “What?” Roger cocked his head to the side, face once again crinkled up in concentration as he tried to understand. You had to laugh again, “Sorry baby but you look very cute when your confused,” Another smile crept onto Roger’s face. “What’s got you so happy?” “You said I’m cute,” “Okay well, you’re still Roger then.” “Am I still cute?” “Absolutely,” you giggled, “Can I ask you some questions?” Roger nodded rapidly. “What are you thinking about right now?” “Cunt.” There was no hesitation, no trying to find the right word this time, “I love cunt. Your cunt most of all.” “Some things don’t change,” you muttered more to yourself than Roger, “Any other thoughts?” This time he thought a bit harder, smile getting bigger as he voiced each one “Orgasms. Making you wet. Cunt.” “Christ, am I this one tracked when I’m tranced?” “What?” “Nothing baby. I have another question for you, what can you tell me about the drums?” you were curious to see how deep the hypnosis went, and because the drums were such an integral part of Roger’s life, his psyche, thought that it would be a good indication. “Umm…. Drums are,” he drew the word out as he thought, “loud. Loud and...fun.” “Can you tell me anything about playing the drums?” Roger concentrated for a moment, expression shifting to worry, “No?” “That’s okay, I’m just checking something. How do you feel now?” “Still good. Also...” “Also what baby?” “Horny? Yeah, horny.” It was like Roger had only just become aware that that’s what the feeling was, “Very horny.” “Very horny? That’s a good feeling though, isn’t it?” Roger nodded again, enthusiastic agreement. “And what should we do about it?” “Ummm,” “That’s okay, I’ll think of something,” you winked at Roger sending him into a fit of giggles. It was hard to wrap your head around seeing him like that but hearing him laugh helped. He wasn’t as giggly as you knew you were when you were tranced. Roger always mentioned the giggling after you’d woken back up, said it was one of his favourite things about bimbo you, how amusing you found everything. But he was a different breed of bimbo. You’d been expecting more laugher if you were honest since that’s how he got when he was drunk. (Well, he either fell about laughing and acting like a child, or he was suddenly ready to debate anyone about anything, depending on what and how much he’d had, but you could hardly expect someone with no braincells to even know what a debate was, so you’d expected laughter.) He was definitely happy, though, just smiley more than giggly. And he was very agreeable if the speed and enthusiasm he showed for your questions was anything to go by. You’d have to be careful when you eventually let him touch you or else he’d explode from happiness. The biggest difference though was his voice. He’d never had a terribly deep voice but now it was lighter than normal, less rough, more vapid. Nothing he said sounded certain and coming from a man who was normally sure of himself and who spoke like it, that was a big difference. But it was all quite arousing really. Knowing you’d been able to put him in this state, knowing that all his thoughts were directed at you. The very small part of you that got jealous and clingy purred at the notion. No band to share him with, no friends, no fans. He was all yours. And he was thrilled about it. “Are you ready yet?” “So impatient baby,” “Mmmmaybe. I want to touch you,” “You can in a minute,” you laughed at his eagerness, “I’m just not quite sure what to do with you. Normally you’d be the one bossing me around and I spent so much time worrying about how to turn you into a bimbo that I didn’t consider what to do with you once you were under.” Roger gave you another happily confused look though he was momentarily distracted by drops of rain running down the window behind you. You had to tap his knee to get his attention again. “Alright, alright. I’m pretty horny myself and I think I’d like to get off so….” You considered your options for a moment, “You always like making me go down on you when I’m all brainless and stupid, so I think that’s what we’ll start with. You can eat me out.” Roger jumped to his knees, practically bouncing with excitement as you lay back and let your legs part. “Thank you,” he said as he quickly tugged off your pants and underwear. “Such good manners,” Roger hummed as he buried himself between your legs, pushing them a little wider. His enthusiasm continued; his whole attention focused on your pussy as he dragged his tongue along it. “Jesus, you don’t muck around,” you laughed, getting comfortable. Roger mumbled something against you. “Speak up Dummy, can’t hear you.” He lifted his head long enough to say, “you taste good,” before licking along your slit again. “You’re so cute with a head full of cunt,” Roger hummed in agreement which made you laugh though it turned into a gasp as his tongue brushed past your clit. Without thinking you brought your hand to rest against the back of Roger’s head, twisting his hair around your fingers. He barely noticed, much more concerned with making you as wet as possible with just his mouth, both of his hands gripping your thighs tightly. It was different to most of the times he’d gone down on you. Normally there was an element of teasing to his head game, even if it was just a casual lazy session. There was always the threat of being edged, even when you knew neither of you were in the mood for that. Kisses and grazed teeth on your thigh when you wanted his lips elsewhere, as if he were just reminding you that you liked it when he took charge. And that was fun. You enjoyed it a lot, wouldn’t trade it for anything. But there was something to be said for this version of Roger. This brainless version who wouldn’t even consider teasing you, who only wanted to make you feel good, who didn’t have any motivations outside your pleasure. He was meticulous, seemingly determined to touch every erogenous spot you had, every nerve ending. Sucking and licking with such fervour and glee that the sound made you dizzy. When he did something that made your breath catch in your throat or, even better, pulled a moan from you, he made sure to repeat it, taking your half-formed expletives as praise. And then he’d find a new spot to make you moan. By the time he decided to focus his attention entirely on your clit, you could feel how wet you were on the inside of your thighs. You were sure you would have been making a terrible mess of the sheets if Roger hadn’t been devouring every drop. “Just like that Dummy,” you panted, “fuck, don’t stop” Roger took your words to heart, tightening his lips around your clit and refusing to move until your legs clamped tight around his head as you came. Even after you relaxed again he didn’t stop entirely, dragging his tongue through your creamy arousal until you physically pushed him away. He pouted in disappointment. “Don’t look so sad baby. I just need a little break because you were so good,” “Oh!” He beamed dopily at the praise, “Thank you!” “How are you feeling?” “Um, I made you feel good so I feel good.” You laughed, “You’d do just about anything if I said it would make me happy, even something like hump the mattress, wouldn’t you?” Before you’d even finished speaking Roger had repositioned himself and begun rutting against the mattress, “Like this?” “Fuck,” “Can I lick your cunt again?” You were tempted to say yes but you still felt sensitive and besides, other ideas were forming, “no, not right now. I just want to watch you for a minute.” “Okay,” he sighed. “Does that feel good Dummy?” “Yes,” “Don’t cum,” “Okay,” "You look very pretty like this,” you indicated his messy hair and the sheen of cum and saliva that still coated his chin, “But something’s missing. When I let you hypnotise me I always dress for the occasion. Stop.” Roger stilled once more, sitting up to watch you as you walked over to your dresser and dug through the draws. “What’s that?” “Shhh Dummy, just sit. Show me that pout again,” Roger sat still as you swiped the hot pink over his lips. “This is a shade called Bimbo and it suits you. You look very pretty,” “Thank you!” he blushed at the praise. “I think you could look sluttier though. Clothes off, except your undies.” Roger stood and began stripping off his shirt immediately, dropping it to the floor as he hurried to unbutton his jeans. “Aww you’re so hard baby. No wonder you wanted to hump,” “Can I touch you now?” “You can kiss me,” “Really?!” You didn’t even have time to confirm the suggestion before he was diving on you, pressing his lips to yours excitedly.

When he finally let you breathe, the lipstick was smeared across both your faces. “Much sluttier,” you laughed, getting only another of his confused looks in response, “Hump the bed again Dummy, show me what a good, dumb slut you are. Good boy,” Roger whined at the friction, but you ignored him, pulling your shirt and bra off before you settled back on the bed, right in front of him, letting your legs spread. Roger whined again. “Do you see how wet you’ve made me?” you asked, running two fingers between your lips, “just from knowing how brainless you are. I get it now, why you like seeing me act like a dumb fuckdoll. It’s fun. Powerful. You wanna touch me so badly, don’t you? Practically drooling,” Roger nodded, “can I?” “No, you can watch for now. Make sure you slow down or stop if you feel like you’re going to cum.” You made sure his eyes were on your pussy as you slowly spread your wetness up to your clit and back down, teasing yourself a little before slipping two fingers into your hole. “Keep watching me Dummy,” you slowly pushed the fingers deeper into you before pulling them back out and then repeated the motion. Roger’s hips sped up in time with your fingers, though he slowed again before long, always mindful of how close he was, only wanting to be good and follow your instructions. By the time you could easily slide three fingers into yourself you’d decided it wasn’t enough, you needed him. “Stop baby. Good boy, good Dummy. What do you want now?” “Your cunt.” “I should have known.” “What does that mean?” “Don’t you worry your pretty little empty head about it. Now lie down for me, baby, on your back. I’m going to reward you by riding your cock,” Roger beamed again and hurried to do as you’d asked. You passed him the pillows from the top of the bed and told him to prop his head up. “I want you to watch Dummy. Watch me take you, watch how deep you fit inside me.” Roger nodded and gave you another dopey smile as you pulled his underwear off and crawled over his lap. His eyes went wide as you lined him up and slowly started to sink down on him. “You watching pretty boy?” “Yes,” “How does it make you feel?” “G-good.” “Yeah? It makes me feel good too,” you leaned forward to kiss his stained lips again as you sank a little lower, his breath hitching, “You’re being such a good boy. Maybe I’ll let you finish in me and then clean up the mess with that pretty mouth. Would you like that?” “So much!” You grunted as you sank lower still, Roger bottoming out and groaning quietly. After a moment to adjust you began to leisurely grind on him, circling your hips, rocking back and forth. He reached up and spread his hands on your chest, eyes wide as if surprised by his own movement. “Nice to see you diversifying your interests,” you laughed. Roger fell into giggles too, though he clearly didn’t understand why. His breath hitched as you quickened your pace, building up a faster rhythm, but his attention kept bouncing between his hands on your breasts and where he was disappearing into you. “Breathe baby,” Roger let out a breath, panting softly. “Such a dummy. Can’t even remember to breathe,” you felt yourself clench and Roger’s head dropped back against the pillows, his eyes rolling and mouth falling open. The sight of him looking so dazed, with hot pink lipstick smudged from his lips to his chin and his hair in a wild mess, made you moan. “You l-look so f-f-ucked out Dummy. Cunt drunk. Fuck it’s hot. You’re s-such a hot sl-ut,” you raised yourself higher, dropped back down harder, riding Roger roughly as you drew closer to the edge. But you needed more. His hands still lay on your breasts, squeezing and palming them lightly, but he let you grab one and reposition it, bending it towards his own mouth. “Suck,” Dutifully he took the fingers you offered him, coating them in his saliva before you pulled his hand back towards you, placing his wet fingers on your clit. “Th-at’s right Dummy, such a-a good f-uck toy. Gon-gonna get me off,” Roger nodded, moaning as you fucked yourself on him until you reached the peak, your release making you shake. You slumped forward, letting it wash over you, trying to get your breath back as you listened to Roger’s own ragged breath and small whimpers. “Sorry baby,” you said, leaning in to kiss him softly before easing yourself off of him, “are you okay?” “Yes,” he smiled though you were still a little worried. Once glance at is cock was all it took to see just how painfully hard he was, tip flushed a redy-purple. “Are you sure you’re okay? I don’t want to push you too far, I want this to be fun,” “I am having fun, silly,” he giggled. “Yeah? You like being my fuck doll?” “Mhmm! I love it! I’m a good dumb doll,” “You are baby, so good. Do you want to cum now?” “Maybe?” You chuckled to yourself, understanding exactly why he was unsure. You remembered what it was like, the confused mix of feelings. Knowing that an orgasm would feel good for you but still not wanting it unless you also knew it would feel good for your Sir, “It would make me happy to watch you cum,” “Really?” “Very much. Would you like to make me happy?” “Of course!” another grin stretched over Roger’s face and you couldn’t help but grin back. “Alright but first I want you to stand up and go over to my closet okay,” Roger nodded as he rolled out of bed. “Now open the third draw. No not that one Dummy, the next one down. There you go. I want you to have a look and find a pair of panties you’d like to wear.” You watched as Roger looked through the draw, considering your underwear as if this was the single most important decision he’d ever have to make. He picked a pair out, discarded it, furrowed his brow and looked again. There was obviously some sort of criteria in whatever was left of his mind, but you’d be damned if you could figure out what was influencing his opinions. Eventually he settled on a lacy pink thong, stepping into it at your word. “Good choice baby. Do you like how it feels?” Roger gently let his fingers run over the scrap of material along his hip and down over his straining cock before nodding happily, “feels...naughty,” he started giggling when you laughed. “Naughty is a good way to feel,” you crooked your finger and Roger followed, standing in front of you, waiting for his next instruction, “and it’ll feel even naughtier when your pretty cock cums in those pretty knickers. Do you want to ride my thigh like a pretty, dumb slut?” “Yes please,” “I can’t get over how fucking adorable you are when you’re like this.” you shuffled back a little, stretching out your legs and leaning back on your hands before tapping your thigh, Roger bouncing with excitement as he settled in place. He let out a soft oh as he began grinding on your thigh, rubbing his dick again you. “That’s right pretty boy. I think next time I might dress you up from the beginning. You’d look very pretty in my lacy knickers with your head between my thighs.” Roger whimpered again, hips jolting as his cock twitched. “You like the sound of that Dummy? Gonna make a mess on my thigh thinking about how good it would feel to lick my cunt while I tell you how pretty and slutty you look? C’mon Dummy, cum for me. Be a good brainless doll and cum to make me happy.” “Yes. I wi-ll, yes-s” Roger muttered, concentrating so hard on keeping his rhythm and getting to the edge. He moaned when he reached it, his movements becoming stuttered and jerky as he soaked the fabric, cum spilling from the gaps in the lace and being spread across your skin as he kept rutting as best he could. “Good boy, good Dummy,” you said, pushing your fingers through his hair, leaning in to kiss his jaw and then his lips.

While he was recovering, getting his breath back, he lay down beside you, grinning again, delighted and proud. You quietly praised him some more as you pulled off his underwear. “Might have ruined these,” you said, throwing them into a corner of the room before turning and restarting the metronome. “What’s that sound?” “It’s a metronome,” you explained, resuming your spot beside Roger, stroking his arm, “I want you to close your eyes and listen to the noise, listen to that click, click, click. And as you listen, you’ll start to remember, start to bring back all your thoughts and all your control. Click. Click. Click. Feel your mind coming back, rising up, up, up, out of the deep sleep. Coming back to yourself, back to normal. No longer so deep and dumb and horny. Just normal, just Roger. Every click makes you feel more and more like yourself. Every click makes it easier to remember, easier to think. That’s right, feeling more like yourself.” You wished you’d thought to ask Roger about this part, about waking him back up, a little fearful that you’d get it wrong and he’d have lost something important, “Nothing to lose by coming back to yourself, nothing to lose by remembering. Bringing back your mind and your thoughts. That’s right, coming back up. No longer deep and dumb and horny and easy.” You kept going until Roger opened his eyes and sat up, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Rog? Feeling okay?” You asked nervously. “A little fuzzy but pretty great,” he said, smiling as his eyes settled on you, “That was fun,” “And you remember everything about playing the drums?” “Of course,” “Thank god. I wouldn’t know how to explain to the others if I’d accidentally erased that for good,” Roger laughed and shook his head again, “The fuzziness does go away eventually right?” “Yeah it does, give it ten minutes, maybe a little more since it’s your first time. It’s just your brain readjusting.” “Okay,” he reached out to grab your hand, “What about you though? How did you find it being in charge?” “Um, yeah, I definitely liked it more than I thought I would.” “You seemed to take to it like a duck to water. Have I still got lipstick on?” “A little bit,” you chuckled, “I can get you a makeup wipe,” “In a minute. Let’s just cuddle for a bit, talk about it all,” “Yeah alright,” you let Roger pull you against him, your head leaning on his chest as your thumb slowly rubbed back and forth on his stomach, “You were okay with that stuff right? The lipstick and my knickers and all that,” “Definitely into it. More than I ever thought I would be. But I kind of think I should remind you why you enjoy being all subby for me before you get carried away. I could turn your brain on for a bit, make you put those panties on and wear them for the rest of the day. I’d get you to suck me off too but you’d have to stand still while I came into the knickers while you were wearing them. Gotta keep them topped up for you.” You squirmed a little at the thought, “Maybe I’ll have to buy you your own set of pretty lacy underwear to wear next time. And your own lipstick.” Both of you fell into giggles. “Wait, if I was the domme, shouldn’t I be the one cuddling you,” “Love, I wore pink lipstick and women’s underwear today, I need to maintain some of my masculinity. Besides I like holding you anyway.” “Alright,” “No, but, I do think I better understand you now, why you wouldn’t want to be filmed like that and what you meant when you said you were vulnerable. I mean, while I was under all I cared about was what you wanted. It didn’t matter how it felt for me, just how it felt for you. Which is kind of scary from both perspectives really. I suppose you have to trust that if things did cross a line into something you weren’t comfortable with, your subconscious wouldn’t let you do it, at least without putting up a fight.” “Yeah that’s definitely a concern but remember we have the safeword triggers in place so I can stop things if I don’t want them, and if you ever want to be the hypnotised one again then we can do the same thing for you. But, all that being said, I um, I was kind of thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. Filming ourselves. With me as the bimbo. You were right, it would be hot.” “You know you don’t have to say that to try and impress me or make me happy or whatever. I really do get it. It’s insane how easy you become to influence under the trance and you really do have to have full trust in the person doing it to you. I wouldn’t necessarily want proof of that on video either.” “No, Rog, listen. I am in. As long as we’re careful about what happens to the tape afterwards, then I want to. Seeing you all mindless was so hot and I kind of really want to see myself like that too. It’s hard not to be curious about that. And I want to see what you do too – how you talk to me and interact with me because on one hand I already know and have watched you do it so many times, but it’s always been while you’re putting me under or while I’m already under so I’ve never really paid attention to how you do it. I’d love to see it from the perspective of someone who isn’t a mindless doll that can’t stop thinking about dick. Especially if we do want to play more with you being the bimbo. I don’t know, I could pick up some tips from it maybe.” “If you really want to then I’m in too. We’ll need to talk about maybe redoing the safeword triggers because I want us to be sure they work and that they aren’t fading with time and that they’re still strong enough. And of course, we’ll be super careful with the tape. We can talk about that too. I’m happy to do anything you need to feel secure. I’d destroy the tape after we watched it if you wanted.” “I don’t know if we need to go that far. I might want to watch it more than once,” “I love you. Adore you,” “Shut up,” “Nope, you are the most incredible woman and the most amazing partner,” “It’s a sex tape Rog, nothing to get poetic over,” you rolled your eyes teasingly. “If I can’t get poetic over sex then what’s the fucking point of poetry?”

#my writing #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor smut #me watching asmr videos on youtube jotting down fic ideas ksdhkjfs #anyway #☁️#I hope you like it!!

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pocket-clown · 5 years ago

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Let’s Talk, Please | Arthur Fleck x reader // angst, with fluff at end.

// original request: could i get a little something about arthur and the reader having an argument over something small, insignificant that just gets out of control? and then making up with some extra fluffy fluff?

AN: Thank you for this request, anon! Writing angst kinda helps me get out some of the pent up negativity I have in me, and this gave me an excuse to do so. I could’ve gone….. a lot more angsty with this but I chose to spare ya’ll that torment and keep it light lmao.

Summary: It was a misunderstanding. A note hidden away in your pocket from someone at work - someone who was just trying to reach out and be friendly with you - but Arthur didn’t know this. To him, once he found it in a search of the set of keys you both shared, it looked an awful lot like you were on the verge of cheating on him, and that was a thought he couldn’t even bear.

Words: 3,901

Content warning: Some shouting on both ends, accusations of cheating, some angst though nothing super heavy.

“Arthur, what did you find?”

Your voice was as taut as your jaw was clenched, your eyes locking onto your boyfriend who currently had his back turned towards you.

Not even five minutes ago had things been fine; you, busy on the couch sorting through an old photo album, and Arthur, keeping himself preoccupied as he washed and put away what few dishes the two of you had dirtied that day. He was getting off work earlier than you were tomorrow which meant that you’d be trading places in regards to who checked the mail, and so he’d asked if you had the keys on you - and along with a nod of your head had you told him to search in your coat pocket for it.

Arthur had done exactly that, and in his search for the keys he ended up finding something you’d long since forgotten about: a note you received about two days ago, from a coworker.

08081 570xxx call me! ☺ - D

Your coworker, who wanted to meet up with you so you two could get to know each other better.

Your coworker, Donna, whom you were tasked with showing the ropes of the place to because she was new - but Arthur didn’t know that.

To Arthur, it looked like you had the number of some random person kept away in your pocket.

To Arthur, it looked like some man had given you his number, and that you’d hidden it from him.

To Arthur, it looked like you were on the verge of cheating on him.

It was a thought that he knew deep down was an irrational one; never once in the history of your relationship had you even mentioned the name of any man with an even remotely affectionate tone (apart from his name, of course), but upon finding the note did his mind immediately swing into overdrive. He’d read it over multiple times, the scratchiness of the handwriting burning into his mind, the request for you to call whomever the writer was, the smiley face (or was that a winky face? He couldn’t tell), the whole thing signed - D. He could think of a few people - all men - whose names began with a D (even the most ridiculous possibilities, such as the pharmacist at Helms’), and it was a thought that made him sick to his stomach the more he held the note in his hands. He had no doubt that all of them, each and every one of them, outshone him in each and every aspect of life - better jobs, more money, healthier, both physically and mentally, funnier - just overall better than he was, and the longer he held the scrap of receipt in his hand, the more did each and every insecurity and anxiety regarding his place in the world and your relationship come to the surface, bubbling up and spilling over like a pot that had been left on the back burner for too long.

You’d asked him, voice as carefree as always, what was wrong, your assumption being that he was just deep in thought about nothing particularly pressing. But then he didn’t respond, and again you tried to get his attention - fruitlessly. When your repeated plea of Arthur, please tell me what’s wrong fell on deaf ears yet again were you set into action, standing up from your spot on the couch up and walking halfway to him, only to see that he was holding something - something you couldn’t quite see from where you stood.

Come the present situation. Your heart pounding away in your chest, unbeknownst to you in perfect rhythm with Arthur’s own. Your hands were sweaty and trembling as you tried to keep your breath steady, and the sinking feeling you had only burrowed a deep pit into your stomach, pushing you to the verge of nausea as something about the situation just felt wrong.

What did he find?

What was wrong?

“Arthur, what’s wrong?"

A bit fed up after failing to get a response from him yet again did you take a deep breath and cross the rest of the way over to him, and once close enough to do so you placed your hand on his arm- an action Arthur flinched at as you peered over his shoulder just enough to see what it is he was holding.

“Oh, that -”

“What is this?” He asked, his voice undertone yet absolutely stinging. The sharp s that punctuated this was venomous, and by that alone could you tell that Arthur was pissed.

“It’s just something from someone at work, it -”

“Another man gave you his number?” It wasn’t even a question; more than anything, it sounded like a statement, or an accusation that he was just waiting for you to confirm in one way or another. He sounded hurt, and from your spot behind him could you see how tightly his jaw was clenched, and from your hand holding his arm could you feel how tense he was.

“What? Arthur, no, it’s not like that -”

“Well that’s what it looks like!” Not even giving you the chance to explain things did he cut you off, pivoting around so he could face you and look you in the eye. Very unlike Arthur was it to interrupt you, and even more unlike him was it for him to raise his voice at you in even the slightest of ways, and the fact that he’d done both was enough to frighten you. Not that you were scared of him, no, but the sight of an angry Arthur was an incredibly foreign one to you, and that alone shook you enough as you knew that something was really wrong.

“God, Arthur, can you calm down for a second and let me explain?”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Y/N! What did you think I’d think?”

“You weren’t even supposed to find out!” You shouted, your words coming out much, much harsher than you intended for them to as your voice raised in accordance with his. Immediately did you shut your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you tried to regain yourself with a breath. “Shit, Arthur, I didn’t mean it like that - ”

At your words, the expression on Arthur’s face changed from one of just anger and upset to one of pure appall; your point of him not even supposed to know about the note only seemed to validate the fear that was festering in the back of his mind; not only that you’d hidden it from him, but he took it as an admission of guilt - and the look on his face could’ve made your stomach drop to the floor. His eyebrows knit as he practically glared at you, the way his lips were trembling as if he were trying to hold himself back from saying something or god forbid crying - he looked mad, but underneath it all, he looked heartbroken.

“So you’re just going to go cheat on me like that?” And how the break in his quiet voice shattered your heart. It cracked as he spoke, a hitch in his breath as if he were trying to not have a total breakdown right then and there, in front of you.

“Arthur - what? Are you serious? That’s NOT what this is!”

“Well then what is it?!”

“It’s from a coworker, Arthur! - She - is new and wanted me to give - her - a call so we could get together for a little bit! You’d know that if you let me finish before!” You shout, your heavy emphasis on she and her seemingly doing very little in calming him; his chest heaved with every breath, his arms stiff at his sides as the scrap of receipt was having the life crushed out of it by how tightly he clenched it in his left hand. “I completely forgot about it until right now! You weren’t even supposed to know yet because I didn’t know how it was going to go or if it would even happen. And her name’s Donna, by the way. She’s funny and you’d probably get along with her.” You didn’t care enough to hide the brittle tone of your voice.

Arthur said absolutely nothing, not even breathing as his eyes bore into the floor between the two of you, a deep crease between his dark brows as he appeared to be lost in thought, trying to to contemplate your words.

“- Arthur, you seriously think that I’d cheat on you? Do you really trust me that little?”

“No! Y/N, no! Don’t think that - ”

“...You literally just accused me of that, not even a minute ago.” You brought your hands for a brief second before letting them drop back down, trying to come to terms with the sheer amount of disbelief that he’d accuse you of something as vile as cheating and then deny doing so seconds later. The look he was giving you was almost unreadable; a mix of confusion, of anger, of hurt, of fear - a crease between his brows, the corners of his mouth trembling ever so slightly as he fought off a frown. “Arthur, why would you even think that?”

It was like a blow to the heart to feel that Arthur didn’t trust you. For Arthur, your normally mild-tempered, tender boyfriend, to accuse you of cheating on him like he had - what kind of person did he think you to be? You knew that Arthur had his own set of fears and anxieties, yes - but never, ever had he outright accused you of anything before. Hushed conversations held late at night as the two of you held each other, your faces hidden in the crooks of the other’s neck as you opened wounds long since poorly-healed just enough for them to be discussed; betrayals from people in the past, each and every anxiety, whether shared or unique, regarding yourselves, and the apprehension of what could go wrong brought to light. Neither of you were very experienced in relationships, and you knew that out of the both of you, Arthur probably had more pent-up trepidation regarding this sort of thing, and so while it made some sense that his brain may connect the nonexistent dots that were drawn together by the small note in your pocket, that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You held up your hand. “Actually, no - I’m taking a bath.” You said, cutting him off before he could even respond with a curt shake of your head.

With that, you turned and slipped away into the bathroom, the feeling of Arthur’s eyes following you tempting you to turn around, the urge of which you resisted as you knew that at the moment, more than anything did the two of you need to take a breather calm down for some time. Both of you knew you were fibbing; you weren’t really going to take a bath, but it made for an excuse to get you just a few moments alone to settle your thoughts and calm yourself down, lest your angst get to you more. You shut the door to the bathroom and immediately slumped down against it, subsequently keeping Arthur from being able to enter if he tried - a thought that broke your heart to even think because so often, more than anything, did you want to let him in.

It had been about five minutes after you initially slumped down onto the cold, tiled floor when you heard a gentle, almost inaudible knock from the other side.

“Y/N…?”

“...What, Arthur?”

“Can we talk - please?...” His voice sounded absolutely heartbroken, especially from the other side of the door. You had a feeling that he was standing right up against the door with his forehead pressed to it like he often did when deep in thought and trying to calm his thoughts, judging by how if you listened close enough you swore you could hear each and every one of his unsteady breaths.

Your own breath stalled for a second as you took a deep breath, your head lolling back against the door with a soft thud. You heart was still pounding, but much less so; you just wanted this over with, but you knew it wouldn’t happen without at least one of you getting emotional.

You almost worried that it would explode into another argument, and at this point, you’d lost absolutely all drive to fight - not that you’d really even had any in the first place. Arguing with Arthur about anything at all was rare - so rare that sometimes you worried that it wasn’t healthy. Neither of you ever wanted to upset the other, but all couples fought; it was important to do, otherwise issues would get swept under the rug and forgotten about for the time being, never truly dealt with - only to come crawling back out at some point in the future and cause even more strife than they would’ve had they been actually dealt with when appropriate. It was just a dumb, stupid misunderstanding that was only worsened and blown out of proportion by some of the less-spoken about tensions in the relationship. So often did Arthur absolutely agonize over the thought of you no longer loving him; thoughts plaguing him in the form of a mantra that cried “you’re no good, you’re undeserving, she needs someone better than you and it’s only a matter of time before they show up” playing on repeat, making his already practically non-existent sleep schedule worse and worsening his already unhealthy mental state. Arthur was simultaneously itching to tell you about it but also too afraid to, lest his irrational fears become too much for you to deal with, and he’d try, he’d fight so hard to ignore them, and you’d try equally as hard to combat them with loving touches and words of affirmation, but it wasn’t something that would just go away. Arthur was troubled, this you knew; but so were you. You had your own set of insecurities and anxieties, and both you and your boyfriend who you felt sometimes cared too much tried so, so damn hard to help keep each other afloat that often times you forgot to stop and take care of yourselves, too.

But, yes, what couple didn’t argue? Perhaps this was an opportunity, one with regrettable circumstances, for you two to actually talk more about this stuff. Yes, in the past you have, but those conversations always tended to take place late at night when the mood was tender, the both of you so sleepy in the presence of each other that your walls came down just enough for the other to see what was on the other side for a brief moment. You loved Arthur, and you knew that he loved you, too - and with that love and desire to understand each other you knew that you could get through this.

Without wasting another second did you stand up, your legs and backside aching from being pressed against the hard floor for so long, and you could’ve ripped the door from the frame with how hard you opened it. The sight on the other side of a very distraught Arthur shattered your heart; his eyes glassy, nose red - his entire expression told you that not only was he distraught over the argument itself, but that he was afraid of where things would go from then on - a fear you couldn’t really blame him for.

“Art, I - ”

“No, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t you, I should’ve mentioned it when I got it.”

“- No, Y/N, it was me. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that - I shouldn’t have accused you of something like that without even thinking first.” The latter portion of his sentence had a hushed urgency to it as he closed the gap between the two of you, and you met him halfway as you threw your arms around his neck, hiding your face between your arm and the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me…”

“I’m not mad at you, Arthur, it just really, really fucking hurt to be accused of something like that.” You said, feeling him sigh against you, and you could only guess how he was feeling. Arthur hated upsetting you - just like he hated hurting you in any way. Being honest with him that he had done either of those things was hard because you knew how much it would upset him in return, but you knew that it was needed. “Just please, don’t do it again.”

“No, no, no, never, sweetheart, never.” He whispered, his lips pressed to the top of your head as your face was tucked into his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

“And I shouldn’t have kept it from you. Not that I meant to, but you probably would’ve liked to know.”

“You aren’t mad at me still, are you?” He asked, and you couldn’t help but coo slightly at how meek his voice was.

“Artie I was never actually mad at you. I was just upset with the situation.” And with that you pulled your face away from him, bringing your hands to cup his face like he so often did yours and pulled him in for a quick kiss. “We both just got upset over a misunderstanding.” You said, pressing your forehead to his.

You two stayed like that for awhile, your arms not unwrapping from the embrace as you reassured each other over and over again with hushed voices that it was okay. You both knew this was an issue that needed to be resolved, or at least spoken about more openly; considering it most likely stemmed from Arthur’s already poor self esteem and acceptance that life was just not going to be kind to him, it would not just go away with a few kisses and kind words. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have your own worries; you knew that before you came along that Arthur had a thing for his neighbor who was nothing short of an absolute babe, and while you knew that Arthur wouldn’t ever go behind your back and cheat on you, you sometimes did get hung up over worrying if he was truly, totally, over her like he’d assured you that he was, countless times. You’d feel a twinge of jealousy every now and then when he’d smile at her, and you knew it was silly. Arthur was incredibly talented at reading your mood and would always get a bit of a chuckle out of it; the fact that you were jealous when it was usually him was something he’d find cute, but nonetheless would he tell you that you were all he wanted. You figured that it was only fair for Arthur to know the same; he was all that you wanted.

It would definitely be a long road for the two of you to overcome this sort of thing, but the two of you had already been through a lot together. How was this any different?

“Hey, Murray’s going to start soon, right?” You spoke up after a minute of silence, and you could feel Arthur smile against your shoulder where he’d had his head tucked down, his face pressed into the fabric of your sweater. You could feel the warmth of his breath through your sweater as he mumbled yay, Murray!, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at how adorable it was. Cuddling up on the couch or bed and watching the Murray show was one of your favorite pastimes with him; regardless of whether it was a new episode, a rerun on channel four, or one of Arthur’s VHS tapes, it was one of the few times that you got to see Arthur and all of his genuine happiness, and hear his beautiful, beautiful laugh that you wished you got to hear more of.

You had a feeling that your hesitance to leave Arthur’s side for the remainder of the night was a mutual one, given by how once you were settled on the bed with the television at the far end switched on, Arthur’s arms found their way around your waist, allowing you to snuggle right up to him, your head on his shoulder with your leg hitched over his, his cheek pressed to the top of your head as he fixed his attention on the show.

“And I was serious when I said that I think you’d get along with her, you know.” You spoke up during a commercial break, knowing that Arthur didn’t like it when something interrupted the show.

“Hm?”

“My coworker, Donna. She’s funny, and a little older than I am. She’s nice - would you wanna meet her sometime?”

Arthur’s quiet for a moment, his look a thoughtful one as he gazed at the television. “Do you think she’d want to meet me?” His voice was soft and uncertain. You knew how often he’d doubt how others felt about him, and you couldn’t really blame him as more often than not did the city - sometimes quite literally - beat it into him that he was an outsider who wasn’t to be accepted by others. It was a feeling that had plagued Arthur for most if not all of his life, and so his worry regarding whether he’d even be remotely liked by a new person was more valid than you liked for it to be.

Despite that, you couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his question - something about it just seemed so silly to you, perhaps because you’d taken such a quick liking to Arthur within moments of meeting him for the first time that it was next to impossible for you to even imagine someone not liking him.

“Well, yeah - I’ve told her a little bit about you, already. I’m sure she’d love to.” You said as you sat up fully, your hand coming to the top of his head so you could brush your fingers through his soft brown curls, a feeling he leaned into as his eyes fluttered shut. “I’ll call her tomorrow, and figure out what she wants to do. That sound fine? It probably won’t be until the weekend, though.”

He hummed in agreement for a brief moment, before looking up to meet your eyes. “You’re sure you aren’t still upset with me..?” He asked yet again, his need for reassurance keeping him from biting his tongue.

“Art if I was, I’d still be hiding in the bathroom.” You shot him a look, the playful smile on your lips only growing as Arthur’s own smile suggested he was amused by your response. It was true; you weren’t upset in the slightest anymore - the problem had been dealt with for the night. Yes, you knew that it would need to be talked about again very soon, lest it happen again - but that’s what tomorrow, or a day later in the week, was for. For the time being, you just wanted to settle in with Arthur. Eventually things would need to be taken care of; clothes changed for bed, the remainder of the dishes and the photo album taken care of, but for now, the last thing you wanted was to part from Arthur and spoil the moment of warmth and contentedness that was needed - for the both of you.

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taglist;

@tahliamalfoydepp @tsukiakarinobara @smol-nari @ajokeformur-ray @lavenderheartz @lady-carnivals-stuff @darknessisafriend @emissarydecksetter @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend @fleckcmscott @oldloverhippiemusic (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x you #joker #joker 2019 #joker x reader #joker x you #joker 2019 x reader #joker 2019 x you #arthur fleck imagine #joker imagine #joker 2019 imagine #mine

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savysavannah · 4 years ago

Text

Practice Challenge One part Two

Special thanks to: @eaton-schreave and @s-morgan

Men have been paying more attention to me lately. Not that they didn't much before, I am a woman after all they're fairly predictable on that front. But what I wasn't expecting was how aggressive they'd be once I became something they knew they couldn't have.

I tried to continue living on as if nothing happened. Wake up, go to work, work through lunch (you can't let the papparazzi see you with mayo on your cheek again), take a break and call Angelic who works at the palace and has been my personal helper through this transition, beg my boss to let me work through the selection, "I can just go to court virtually!", skip dinner, drive home, make sure no one is following me, they still haven't found out where I live at least, pop open a bottle of gin, then research this bitch who I had to somehow, for the sake of my own ass, not murder.

The office is on floor 10 of the 20 floor building I work in. I park in the parking lot, thankfully the paparazzi can't follow me there as you have to scan in. I walked up to the elevator and pressed the button. Just as the doors closed a larger man ran up and blocked it with his hand. He was around 6’4 and towered over me, he stood a little too close and I clutched my purse to take the anxiety out.

I watched the numbers go up as we rode but felt him watching me. His pinky finger rubbed against my thigh fiddling with the hem of my pencil skirt. He couldn’t do anything to me, not with who I now was, not in a moving elevator. I tried to remember to breathe as we hit floor eight and leaned to the side to avoid him which he leaned closer in response. Finally we stopped at floor ten and I got off. Thankfully, he didn’t follow.

I tried to put the moment out of my mind while I worked. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, but it was the first time that I was completely and utterly alone. I clicked the B key of my laptop over and over trying to get my brain to pump out something. Some kind of work. But all I got in response was the distracting thoughts of what to do next time.

At lunch I stared at the elevator. I had to take either the stairs or the elevator. If I took the elevator I'd be stuck in the same situation. If I took the stairs I'd be alone in a dark area for longer. I pressed the button and watched my watch as I waited.

I was thankfully alone as it lowered to the ground. I was able to breathe and let my mind debate over if I should go to the sandwich place near work or drive home and eat leftovers. Going with the sandwich I started to walk down the block.

“Daniel will you get off that stupid device and pass your sister the peas.” Mother ordered as we all sat at the table of our parents estate. Our weekly dinners were normally a lively event, but tonight was the first night before I left. Daniel and I still hadn’t made up since his plan for vengeance against someone who had not harmed him had succeeded.

I’d tried to make the best of the situation, research some ounce of goodness in the Prince, but all I found were articles of his outrageous college behavior. Dan had been assuring me that once I was eliminated I would have a sea of men to pick from and would be happily married to a two or upper class three, I could quit work and be a simple housewife like his Marina, this outraged me further and caused a fight. My goal in life is not to be a wife but to work and be content with my work. Danny was the only one who could actually provide any solace reminding me that it would just be for a few weeks, possibly less, then I’d be back to work just as before. Eventually, people would forget I was ever someone to know and I could return to my life.

Just as we finished dinner the doorbell rang, though there was quickly a rattling of the knob and a busting in before the help could get to the door. Grandmother came in with large pink bags, which I believed to be for me. Soon after I learned that they were filled with all kinds of masks. Masks for face, masks for hair, hands, feet. Apparently, being on TV meant my skin had to be extremely soft.

Grandmother is the current head of the Mars candy corporation. Next in line is my Uncle Dennis, then my cousins, then uncle Ricky. Hopefully though it won’t come down to Ricky. Ricky blew all his money before he could trap a wife, he’s still a two as grandmother keeps him afloat, but barely. One day he’ll probably be caught with some kind of drug, he’ll be dropped to an eight, it’ll be a shame that could have been prevented had the lawyer in the family not been a stuck up bitch. I’m just tired of working for free on a man who will never change, and doesn’t deserve the luxury. But God forbid I charge family.

The morning of the flight I wasn’t nervous at all. I said my goodbyes to my boss, let her know I’d be available on my phone or through email if she needed anything, locked up my home, and headed to the formal goodbye where I’d meet up with my family. There was a surprising amount of pride in the province for me being selected. I had read an article about how it seemed I would be destined to be the perfect fit for Queen. I already worked in helping those of Illea through complex laws and policies, I was well educated, from a wealthy family but not a literal two. I was the perfect mold and the pride of Labrador. There were other provinces which had an eight selected that were not quite as cheerful. In the quiet of the airport I was finally able to say my goodbyes. Mother told me to remember to not be too closed off, Father told me to be careful, Danny told me to tough it out but give it an honest try; “He may not be terrible, don’t deny yourself happiness.” Some nonsense like that.

Dan congratulated me on the opportunity, and Daniel stood quietly trying to avoid eye contact. I was still mad at him. What he did was unforgivable. But we couldn’t leave like this. I hugged him tightly and boarded the plane.

The day was a blur, a blur of useless lessons, a blur of mild appearance changes, girls who were possibly friends, possibly enemies, possibly annoying. It was late into the evening by the time I got to my room. My maids, Florence, Abigail, and Eimear seemed eager to be serving possibly ‘the future queen of illea’ and I was eager for a moment to myself. I dismissed them for the night to unpack on my own.

I’d snuck a few pairs of my own tailored dress pants in, my laptop, phone, a notebook, a few books, and a family photo. Soon enough the room was a strangers room with sprinkles of me throughout. Once I sat down at my laptop I realized it was already getting fairly late. I changed into a silk nightgown, closed my laptop and tried to sleep.

As I slept I thought of the footsteps around me, everything felt so loud, a screaming echo that I was in the very last place I ever wanted to be. After a while of tossing and turning I finally stood and walked to the wine cellar. We had been told to make ourselves at home afterall. As I walked back to my room I bumped into a stranger.

After a moment of shock and regaining my grip on the bottle of wine I looked up to see Prince Eaton. He was known to be more sane than his brother, so I was thankful for at least that. “Oh! I'm sorry, Prince Eaton.” I spoke and gave a small curtsy.

He looks down at the bottle and myself with a bit of a furrowed brow “You don't need to apologize.”

He pauses for a moment and gives a friendly smile, “And you don't need to curtsy, either. Lady Savannah, is that right?” It’s a bit astonishing he’d both remember my name and recognize it as mine upon seeing me. If I were in his place I’m not sure I could.

I sighed a bit in relief please I wouldn’t be getting yelled at for my carelessness this evening, “Yes. Just Savannah is fine, or Ms. Mars if you insist on formality. Though, the apology is still warranted considering I should have been watching where I was going. At little out of it, first night and all.” I lifted the bottle as the first night related to the bottle.

He gave a deadpan joke and I was fortunate then that I am competent in people reading. It may have been awkward if his "I'm not sure wine will help you remember the palace geography.”

“Well, the goal is to drink it once I return to my room. That or the courtyard since it is pretty out tonight. Though, you do make an excellent point that the wine combined with being in an unfamiliar location could have negative consequences.” For a moment I paused. It may not be a horrible idea to make the acquaintance of someone here.

“Care to have a glass with me? Splitting it and being with someone who knows the 'geography' well may decrease the negatives.” I offered.

“Interesting that you don't drink though. I'd heard you were more....sober, than your brother but it's noted to the extent. *kinda blushes* not that I was researching you or anything, it's just difficult to not hear things when you both went to my undergrad and you're a prince. Kinda a common conversation topic.”

He stood a bit straighter and eyed the bottle, “I do not drink.” After a moment passed he then cleared his throat, the tone of his statement before must have hit him, “However I can keep you company if you want to.”

I stifled a laugh at him clearing his throat not trying to be rude but finding his realization funny, “Great then. You can be my guide then for the evening.”

he seemed embarrassed and put his hands in his jean pockets, “I'm afraid this kind of thing comes along with the title...“ he took a hand out of his pocket, making a motion like ‘shall we go?’

“So you went to the University of Labrador?”

“yup. Go Labs *kinda mumbles for a moment* I wasn't really there for long. We started the same year I think, which I don't really remember much of. I was kinda a different person then. Then I graduated in 2 years and went to Yale law so all in all not a whole lot of time there. But I am from Labrador and my family home is near the campus so I know the area pretty well.”

he had a very small smile “And I showed off to my brother for graduating in three years. Labrador is a beautiful province, though. I miss it.”

“Well, I'm sure you had more to do than me. I'm not some kinda royal so I just got to spend all my time working on getting credits. It is pretty though, I already miss it. Not that Angeles isn't. My mom's family lives here so I've been here a few times, but it's just not Labrador.”

“I agree, but I've come to realize Angeles is full of little gems. You just need to find them. Hopefully you'll be able to get out of the palace to see it for yourself.”

I chuckled a bit at my situation, “Well, I don't imagine I'll be here very long so maybe I'll have a little Angeles vacation”

he raised his eyebrows, “I know... My brother's reputation. But I think he's trying to take this seriously.” He paused for a moment, “Or as seriously as he can take anything.” It was a bit shocking to hear him say that. He seemed like a sensible person, any sensible person would be unlikely to defend the Prince. Though, he was also his brother, perhaps there's a familial bias.

“Mhm.” I nodded then picked the conversation back up, “well, only time will tell. Hopefully for the sake of the country what's been said about him the last few years are baseless rumours” I sighed a bit thinking about which floozy of a wife will be our future Queen. The floozy and the fuckboy, what leaders.

Prince Eaton clenched his jaw, “Media is prone to exaggeration.” but did not deny what had been said.

He was being nice by walking with me so I decided to spare him a grilling and change the topic, “I'm sure. So how do you feel with the whole uh, 35 girls in your house situation?” Great now I sound like an interviewer.

We reached an access to the gardens and he opened a French window for me, “My space is always invaded, it's nothing worse than usual.” He said with a failed attempt at a smile. I assume he isn’t looking for pity but it’s difficult to not be pitying over such an attempt.

“That's fair I guess. Surprised you stayed though. Had my brother decided to have a bunch of ladies in our home, privacy be damned I don't wanna be around that mess.” I joked.

He snorted and seemed surprised at himself, “I was supposed to avoid it with a world tour. But things took another turn and now work won't get done alone.”

“World tour sounds a lot more fun. Postponed or cancelled?”

He gave his first genuine smile of the night, “Already done, actually. I came back a couple months ago.”

“Where did you go? Since I assume a world tour isn't literal?”

“Oceania, South Asia, Central Africa, and Europe.” He gave a small wistful sigh. I’d be wistful too if I had been all over there.

“That's very worldly. I've only been to France and Germany. Did you have a favorite visit?”

He didn’t hesitate for a moment, “New Zealand and Scandinavia. What about you though? Did you enjoy your visits?”

The question caught me off guard so I took a moment trying to remember them, “they were alright. Quite a long time ago though. We only went to stay with my Uncle in France since he runs the part of my family's company in France and then we went to Germany because we were there so we may as well head there. Mostly it was just sitting with my brothers at a hotel while my parents went off or my grandma playing dress up with eight year old me”

“Oh. Do you regret not getting to see more of those places?” He said and looked to a bench we were approaching, but more with a thoughtful consideration than a directional goal.

“A bit. It would have been nice to go out but they were more business trips than anything else. Maybe I'll go again at some point on my own if I have the free time.” I let us pass the bench, I’d been sitting far too much today with all the lessons and makeovers.

“Sometimes you have to give yourself the time or you'll never do certain things.”

“Logically I agree. But emotionally.....it's difficult to step back to work when my work directly impacts horrific moments of people's lives. Like if I were to go see a movie and my phone off, a client could be arrested and their treatment and time in jail without being able to contact their legal representation would be on my hands.”

He nodded slowly, “I can understand that. It gets hard to stop when people's lives are on the line.”

I sighed, trying not to get too revealing over my reasons for being here, afterall telling a stranger- regardless of him being a prince, that my brother had forged my application would be dumb, “I don't even really want to be wasting time here. But it is what it is. Trying to view this as a forced vacation. At least there are pretty flowers and good wine.”

He furrowed his brows, “Is there a way we could keep you working, from here? I guess you couldn't do much, but a little is better than nothing.”

I sighed, “Yeah I tried. I work for the ICLU so I asked if I could just stay in contact with clients and work from a far. But I wouldn't be able to make any proper court appearances and they wouldn't want someone just thrown on for court so it made more sense to just give me paid vacation. They were pretty proud anyways since apparently it's an honor to be selected for this reboot reality TV bachelor show.”

He pursed his lips, “I'm sorry you don't get to keep working. But they're not wrong. You being selected does give visibility to your organisation.”

I stopped for a moment, completely caught off guard by the comment, “That is true I hadn't thought of that. It's a non-profit so I hope donations may increase from me being here.” I dug into the oversized pockets of my nightgown and grabbed a pen, always best to keep a pen in the pocket, then scribbled on my hand, “reminder to think of ways to bring up iclu during this.” I explained.

He laughed through his nose and smiled, “See, a couple things might come out of your forced vacation.”

I chuckled a bit, “You're a smartass, and I mean that as a compliment. I can tell already which makes me feel much better about Prince Damian being in charge next.” I sighed content for a moment then remembered I was supposed to be making conversation, “So, you know I'm a nut for my work, what are you passionate about?”

He shrugged and looked around as if the gardens would save him, “My work.”

I smiled wondering a bit why that would be something to be ashamed of, “I get that. But do you have a specific part? I mean I'm sure you do a lot. So do you ever wake up and you're like 'man I get to do blank today!" Like for me it's court days because I love the theatrics of it.” I smiled a bit remembering the fun of cross.

The question seemed too intimate for him as he tucked his hands in his pockets, “I guess I like working on projects. I mean, when the planning part of it.”

“Projects are fun. I hated them when I was in high school. I was very much so not the nerd I am today.” I tried to avoid going too deep into the projects conversation, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable.

He raised a brow at the comment of my past, “I understand why people can find them boring, though.” Thankfully he didn’t press further on the past.

“Yeah I was more of a push off project till the last minute and party with my friends type for a while. Now I kinda wish I could have them again, it'd probably be fun to analyse how the flaws of Gregory Illea still impact us from a historical perspective.”

He snorted and shook his head, “It's more nerve-wracking than fun, in my opinion.”

“Well yeah, but if you can identify the flaws you can work to fix them and the research is fun so overall, more fun.”

He looked up at the stars as he thought, “I don't know... Not all of it is fixable. Not that easily at least.”

I thought as well for a moment, the country had been in a bit of unrest for awhile now. He was probably thinking of that, “Well, just because it isn't easy isn't any reason to not be excited about it. The accomplishment of fixing something difficult is arguable even better.” I tried to reason.

He stayed thoughtful, and looked down at me, “I see your points. But sometimes I think our ancestors just put us in a situation we'll never fully get out of.”

“That's a very cynical outlook and I disagree. It isn't logical to assume that just because a way hasn't been thought up yet that there can be a way out of a problem.” I said and smiled up at him.

“Maybe it's cynical, but what I see is history repeating itself.” He looked up again, “It doesn't mean I think things aren't worth fighting for, though. But magical solutions don't exist.”

“I agree. Solutions often require a lot of work and even then are often not perfect. But to never fully get out of seems too far cynical for me to believe.”

He looked down at me curiously, “You're more optimistic than you appear to be.”

I raised an eyebrow, “hm, interesting that I appear to not be optimistic. I take it that it's the wine bottle causing that.”

He smiled slightly, “Maybe. But just a little.”

“Any reason you don't drink?” I asked before realizing that may be very personal, “that is if you're comfortable answering.”

He shrugged, “I don't like the taste. Or the sensation.”

“That's a fair reason. I didn't like it much till I joined a sorority and ended up just liking it because we drank so much.” I kinda shuddered remembering the hangovers.

He raised an eyebrow, “I guess it tastes different once you're inebriated enough.”

“Yeah like spicy foods. Everyone hates them when they are a kid but you grow to love them as you get older.”

He snorted, ”I've always liked spicy foods, even as a kid.”

I laughed, “Well then you're weird. I still can't handle wasabi.”

He laughed softly, “You just need to be careful about the quantity.”

“No literally any bit of it and I'm out. My brother Danny put some on my sushi the other night, it was just a dapple from his chopstick but I couldn't eat the piece.”

“Did you try to?”

“No. Why would I want to be in pain, I'm not a weird masochist.”

“How do you know it's that bad if you never give it another try though?”

“Hmm, traumatic memories.”

He raised his eyebrows, a curious expression on his face, “Care to share?”

I sighed at the memory, “When I was a kid I really loved matcha paste. It was like a sweet matcha pouch of paste that you could suck out, like those applesauce containers. it was my favorite thing. My grandmother gave me some and since my parents found it effective to shut me up I got it a lot. One day they ordered sushi, left it on the table, I was around four so i could reach it, thought the wasabi was matcha and ate a handful of it. Tears ensued and now I'll never touch it again.”

He laughed softly, “Alright, I understand better. But you could try to overcome your trauma someday.”

“Maybe one day, but with a lot of milk in arms reach”

He nodded, “I'm sure it can be easily arranged during your little vacation.”

I kinda shuddered at the thought, “I'll for sure need a friendly face there with me for moral support.” I laughed.

He laughed quietly, “It shouldn't be hard to find.”

“Probably harder than the wasabi though. So that is task number one on mission wasabi.”

He smiled slightly, “Well, if you stay stuck too long on task number one, I can volunteer as a friendly face.”

“Thank you. Same to you if you ever happen to need one.”

He nodded, “I'll remember that.” He jerked his chin to the wine, “Are you still planning on drinking this?”

I lifted the bottle and stared for a moment, “it'll come back to my room for further deliberation. Possibly a nightcap.”

“If it can help you get some sleep…” He glanced at the palace, “I should walk you back to your room.”

“If you don't mind. I would consider you an expert of palace geography after all.”

He snorted and shook his head, “Do you remember your room number? Or Hall?”

“Ummmmm. I'm gonna guess 14. Could be 15 though.”

He took a step towards the palace, gesturing for me to walk along, “Well, hopefully we won't step into anyone's bedroom.”

“Hm. Well the doors do say our names on them, so assuming one of us is literate I think we're safe from that” .

“I'm a humble geographer, I read maps.” He replied, getting a small giggle from myself.

“lead the way, humble geographer.” We walked for a bit through the palace till we found my room.

“That's me.”

He stopped in front of the room, “Well, we've made it. Unscathed, at that.”

“Very impressive. I would say you're a 10 out of 10 guide for such an achievement.”

He bowed, “Please don't hesitate to post a review on TripAdvisor.”

I chuckled at the joke, “well thank you for all your help. Wishing you the best, Prince Eaton.”

“Eaton's just fine. Goodnight.” He smiled.

“Good night, Eaton” I replied with a curtsy then retired to my room.

Once I got on my laptop I pulled up my email. It wouldn’t be too annoying if I emailed my boss with some advertisement suggestions. If I let her know I’d be willing to help as much as I could. I could take up some interviews and remind people to donate. But as I typed I found myself hitting the same key over and over.

Finally I scrolled onto Toogle and began to read about Prince Damian. The bottle of wine found its way to my lips as I read about his partying, his boorish public behavior, his absolutely lack of responsibility for his people. Quickly the bottle was empty.

The world spun and I closed the laptop. My stomach gurgled demanding sustenance. Crackers? Something salty? Maybe popcorn. Popcorn and a movie sounds good, I mean why should I bother with anything else while I’m here in this hell. If I have to wake up early I can simply nap when I have a moment to spare. I took the bottle with me planning to throw it away in some form of recycling bin which I assumed would be in the kitchen.

I couldn’t find the kitchen. Instead I stood in an unknown hallway for a few moments, before finally deciding to give up and just return to my room. I could ask my maids for popcorn in the morning if I still wanted it.

I walked to my room on the corner of the hallway, walked in and laid on my bed. I let my shoes slip off and rest on the ground next to where I had placed the empty bottle.

“Um…” I hear someone say who then clears their throat and says a bit louder, “hello?”

I Rolled around to look at her. I had dismissed all of my maids, who was this person? After a moment I recognized her as a selected who I had seen earlier in the day, “Um? Hi?” I mumbled and tried to sit up a bit in bed. This was not a good time for me to be receiving visitors and I hadn’t the slightest clue why this girl was in my room.

She steps a bit closer to me, “Are you alright?”

“More than. Rich asshole got fucking great wine. I'm Savannah Mars of Labradoradora. Why are you in my room?” I slurred.

She mouthed “Labradoradora” silently to herself before she blinked again, and walked to the edge of the bed and looked at me. Seeming to understand my condition she smiled, “Somehow someway, you ended up in my room. Sienna. Not... Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Woops.” I giggled a bit at the situation now fully understanding this poor girl's confusion at my intrusion. “Savannah.” I lifted an arm in a lazy wave, “Mars. If you read the papers I'm the selected whose brother punched a reporter.”

She half grimaced, “Well hopefully you don’t punch me when I offer to help you back to your room.”

I laughed a bit at what this girl must be thinking of me, “not at all! They're just protective over a creepy paparazzi.” I sat up more straightly and swayed a little.“you don't have to help me though. I am perfectly capable of finding a room. Regardless of my state I am in fact a lawyer. Therefore I can read.”

Her smile is a little more at ease with my laugh, then she nodded slowly, “Oh absolutely. But so I don’t get mixed up in the future, can you let me come?” She said, eyeing my swaying carefully.

“Gotcha!” I cheered and did some finger guns and stood up successfully with the help of the bedpost, “I'm a lawyer, you?”

She stepped near me and offered a hand, answering distractedly, “Illustrator.”

I took her hand, “Pretty!” Then blushes a bit at the exclamation, “Illustration i mean! You are too though!” Trying not to insult the stranger.

She laughed softly and took my arm into the crook of hers, “Thank you. The compliment goes both ways.”

I nodded enthusiastically, “oh no bad idea dizzy.” I said and settled myself again, “I sleep somewhere around here. Why do all these doors look the same”

“I see why you got confused heading into my room.” She chuckles as she scans the plates, “Are you sure your room’s in this direction?” She blinked “Never mind.”

Suddenly I saw another door, it said S something, how many selected with S names could there be, “S is me!” I exclaimed.

She squinted and she looked closer at the nameplate, “S is close to you, but this isn’t your room. It’s Soraya’s,” She frowned and nodded at a guard who we passed.

“Oh... “ I wondered why someone else would have joined this, I suppose this other selected is a perfect person to ask, “Do you have the hots for the prince?”

She seemed startled by the question, “Well... we haven’t even met him yet.” She then raised a brow, “Do you?”

I laughed and nearly threw my head back, “Absolutely not! But I was wondering if all the girls here would be like” I stopped for a moment to gather myself, “UWUWUW Prince Dammmm i wanna be your wifeeyyy” I batted my eyes mimicking my expectation of my fellow selected, “and shit.”

Thankfully she laughed before quickly covering her mouth, “Let’s see how the interviews go then talk. I might go all moony-eyed.”

I half chuckled, “I don't think there’s a thing he could say to me to make me go all "uwu'. Strongly dislike the man off the bat.”

“Oh?” She raised a brow, a laugh still in her voice, “Is it the partying?”

“120%” I said fully serious.

She hummed, “What about it don’t you like?

“The fact that he's supposed to be the heir to illea and he's running around partying like he's just some ordinary frat boy. He has an obligation to the country and his choice to party over starting on work directly impacts thousands of peoples lives. I spend freaking days arguing cases that could just be solved if we had a leader who was sand enough to amend laws that deserve amending but he's out there doing jello shots and drinking tequila!” I complained, probably spilling out a bit much.

She sighed and bobbed her head to one side for a moment, focusing on the hallway before they reached the end of it and realized her room is probably back where they were before, she simply missed it. tugs them back in that direction again, “Maybe he’s... getting it out of his system.” She defended and wrinkled her nose clearly not believing her own words.

I sighed, “Maybe. At least this will let me tell if he's really that hopeless or not. Not that I'm one to speak in my current state.”

She gave a short laugh, “What if he is hopeless? What will you do then?”

I hadn’t quite thought that far out, “I figure out which one of you is the least hopeless and try to help them win.” I suggested.

She seemed amused at my conclusion, “Why did you submit your name then? For kicks and giggles?”

I sighed, “I didn't submit my application. Let's just leave it at that. Why'd you submit yours?” She seemed to agree with me about the large faults of the prince which made me more curious.

“Second chance at... something.” A vague answer.

I snorted, “something? What did you date a prince in a past life?”

She looked down with a smile then back up, “Life. Second chance at life.” I knew what she meant. The chance to reinvent yourself. I was able to get it before, if this was hers I wished her the best.

I looked up at her and smiled, “Well, I hope you get it Ms. Artist.”

She directed a smile at me, “Thank you.” We finally approach a room directly labeled Savannah Mars, which is funnily enough exactly across the hall from Sienna's. “I hope you don’t get too much of a headache tomorrow.”

I waved, “Nah I chug water.” I smiled at her already feeling the effects wearing off, “Thank you for walking me here, and I'm sorry for lying on your bed.”

“Sure sure.” She let go of her arm and raised a brow, “Positive you’ll be alright?”

“Positive.” I replied with a brief nod, headed into my room, then passed out for the night.

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detroitwhatitmeanstobehuman · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 5 - Conflicting Directives

Part 5/17 of What it Means to be Human

Word Count: 10,488

Warnings: Swearing (not as much this time), mild suggestive banter, character death, post-loss grieving, descriptions of a car accident and hospitalization.

Genre: Self-insert/Hurt/Comfort/Fluff

Pairing: OC (Detective Rachel) X Connor

Rating: Mature

Summary: The day is done and Detective Rachel has gone home. Connor, making earnest on his promise, arrives at her home to make amends. He learns the extent of her loss and trauma and notices strange things about her affect on him. It seemed as though without doing anything, Connor’s software instability increases almost continuously around her, but even more strangely, he’s not bothered by it.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

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

Date: November 6th, 2038 Time: 06:34 PM Objective: Find Amanda

Within his mind palace’s zen garden, the RK800 android found himself in once again, prepared to make another report to Amanda, his handler. It was a familiar and peaceful place, with many modern-style bridges that led to the centre of the small lake within.

But first and foremost, the strange device to his left that he always triggered, but never understood why. He was strangely drawn not only to it, but to trigger it. It was like a console with an input for handprint recognition just in front of a circular sculpture-like structure.

He never understood why he triggered it, or why whenever he did, he could feel something constantly shifting. He simply felt compelled to do so.

But nevertheless, he did what he always did, and made his way to the centre, where his trusted handler typically was. The detective android saw her as his mentor, and admitted that there was much he would do for her approval.

Amanda - Trusted He found her standing beneath the tree in the centre, her very dark skin reflected by the bright sun that lit the garden, and her braided hair done up in a tightly wound bun.

“Hello, Amanda.” Connor greeted.

“Connor, I've been expecting you.” She greeted him in return. “Would you mind a little walk?”

Connor, giving her a patient and appreciative smile, began following the elegant and poised coloured woman through the garden. “That deviant seemed to be an intriguing case. A pity you didn't manage to capture it...”

Rachel 🔓

Pragmatic

Explain

No Excuse

“The detective Lieutenant Anderson brought on today nearly had it.” Connor explained. “It managed to slip from her grasp, but I’m certain that the next case will go much more successfully.”

Amanda continued to listen intently, stealing a glance at him from time to time. “Did you manage to learn anything?” She asked him patiently.

Deviant 🔓

Diary 🔓

Signs On Walls 🔓

Birds

“It was fascinated by birds.” Connor answered, Rachel’s emphasis on the nature of the deviant’s connection to the pigeons the most prevalent in the android’s consciousness. “We've seen deviants interested in other lifeforms like insects or pets, but nothing like this.”

Amanda nodded. “What else?”

Deviant 🔓

Diary 🔓

Signs On Walls 🔓

“The walls of the apartment were covered with drawings of labyrinths and other symbols.” Connor added, informing his handler of what he saw written and drawn on the walls of the abandoned apartment. “Like the other deviants, it seemed obsessed with rA9.”

“You came very close to capturing that deviant...” Amanda pointed out. “How is your relationship with the Lieutenant developing?”

Saving Hank 🔓

Negative

Ambiguous

Positive

“He seemed grateful that I saved his life on the roof.” Connor answered earnestly, continuing to walk with the older woman. “He didn't say anything, but he expressed it in his own way.”

“It would seem that this case has become more complicated, thanks to the involvement of both Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Rachel.” She said slowly. “Having to work with the lieutenant already made this case difficult enough, but the addition of another may compromise your investigation. What do you make of her?”

Indifferent

Sincere

Dismissive

Unsure

Amanda - Trusted v “I think her addition to the case would add great benefit to our progress.” Connor answered in earnest, much to Amanda’s subtle disappointed scowl, indicated only by the smallest twinge in her full lip and narrow of her dark eyes. “She’s incredibly analytical, has a natural instinct for discerning the motives of suspects and a powerful drive. She also has a good rapport with the lieutenant and I consider her insight extremely valuable.”

Amanda’s facial expressions were almost impossible to read, as she most often kept her face entirely neutral. “You know full well that she knowingly allowed the deviants from before to escape.” She pointed out. “What do you think about her attitude towards them?”

Intriguing

Disapproving

Unsure

Indifferent

Amanda - Trusted v “I find her observations intriguing.” Connor answered flatly. “She draws many comparisons to other marginalized groups among humans, ones that I find rather fascinating and insightful. She’s very articulate and adamant in her thoughts regarding them.”

Amanda continued to stare at Connor, her expression stoic and unchanging. “In any case, she has also been officially assigned to the case.” She reminded the android. “If the cause of these outbreaks of deviancy isn’t found, they will wreak havoc. Make certain she does not become a liability.”

Connor nodded. “I understand.”

“We don't have much time.” Amanda’s eyes scanned the surroundings of the Zen Garden before settling on Connor again. “Deviancy continues to spread. It's only a matter of time before the media finds out about it.” She said, putting emphasis on the latter part of that statement. “We need to stop this, whatever it takes.”

Connor nodded obediently. “I will solve this investigation, Amanda.” He promised her. “I won't disappoint you.”

Amanda nodded, coming to the end of their walk. “You’d better hurry.” She warned. “I will inform you when we have another case. But until then, get on better terms with your new partner.”

--------

Objective: Make amends with Rachel Rachel - Warm

Leaving the self-driving taxi, Connor stepped up and approached the house. It wasn’t a particularly large house, but it had two levels and a large window to the right side when approaching the front door. As the android approached the house, he stepped up to the door and was about to knock when he heard a sound coming from inside.

Knock

Investigate

Leaning over towards the window, he began examining what was playing inside. It was her, in what looked like a kitchen, smiling. Smiling, dancing, singing, and playing with a large black dog.

And I'm begging you, bring me back to life.

I just can't stand leaving you alone tonight.

It's too late to go.

Already taken me forever just to try to know.

Connor quickly matched the song and found it to be an old 2011 song called Stutter from the album Ever After by Mariana’s Trench. She wasn’t dancing in any specific way, simply bouncing on her feet and moving her shoulders in rhythm with her eyes closed.

One for the money, two for the show,

three to get ready, and four to go.

For the life of me,

I don't know why it took me so long to see.

The way her hair bounced on her shoulders and the way her smile contorted to the lyrics of the song was utterly captivating. She was spontaneous, free, and entirely shameless in her sheer joy. It didn’t even occur to him that he was already recording her so that he could commit this to detailed memory.

I just stutter, stutter, stutter,

Di-di-di-di-di-did I?

Stutter, stutter, stutter,

Di-di-di-di-di-di-did I?

Stutter, stutter, stutter,

Di-di-di-di-di-did I?

Stutter, stutter, stutter,

Di-di-di-di-di-di-did I?

Software Instability ^ Connor realized that he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she was behaving wholly organically as she truly was. This was what she was like in her own time, when it was just herself in her own space. And he would be lying if it wasn’t utterly captivating listening to her sing and watching her dance with such freeform careless abandon, throwing all caution to the wind to get completely lost in her own rhythm. She was making strange flapping motions with her hands and tapping and hitting the counter in various ways to the music which he couldn’t help but find incredibly endearing.

But it didn’t last, as she then locked eyes with him, her brown eyes wide in shock, very much resembling a deer caught in headlights. Not that Connor had ever seen that himself, but he was aware of the phenomenon. After all, there wasn’t very much large wildlife in Detroit, at least not in the city.

She didn’t seem to really be afraid as she sort of just stood there. Connor took that as a good enough reason to step back in front of the door and ring the doorbell.

Although, as soon as he had done that, the music stopped and the rumbles of a deep bark and a loud and boisterous laugh resounded through the house and were audible from where Connor was standing. It was unmistakably hers, but he had never heard her laugh like that. Not with so much energy and force behind it. It was surprising, and it made Connor’s lip twinge in the smallest smile. “Wait!” She ordered, still laughing.

Software Instability ^ The barking had stopped and the front door was opened to Rachel’s face, still contorted in a wide open-mouthed smile as she was still keeling over in laughter, clutching her diaphragm with her right arm.

Greet

Apologize

Tease

Say Nothing

“Hello, Rachel.” Connor announced curtly.

“I’m sorry,” the shorter woman said, adjusting her glasses and still trying to work through laughs and giggles, “but did you just ring the doorbell to try and pretend like you totally weren’t just staring at me through my window like a creep?”

Apologize

Tease

Say Nothing

Connor hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He apologized, putting on his typical professional posture and persona. “It’s just that I hadn’t seen you dance or sing before.”

“That’s probably because it would be pretty tone-deaf to just break into song in the middle of a police precinct.” Rachel joked with him, before stepping back a bit, the large black dog stepping between them and sniffing at Connor eagerly.

Software Instability ^ “That’s Bear, my sweet baby boy. He loves people, he’s an absolute sweetheart.” She cooed in that baby voice many humans used when speaking to or about animals they found cute. “Yes he is! He absolutely is, the sweetest lil’ baby boy in the whole world and the cutest baby ever!” It was a tone of voice Connor couldn’t help but once again smile at as she ruffled at the large dog’s ears, the dog huffing in pleasant excitement. The android quickly identified it as a Newfoundland. They’re dogs that were bred to work in water in the province of Newfoundland and Labrador, but more specifically Newfoundland, in Maritime Canada, and often finds use as a canine lifeguard.

As Connor started petting the large black dog, who was sniffing eagerly at his face, Rachel then turned back to him, having calmed down and was looking at him with an inquisitive look. “Wait, how did you find my house? I forgot to give you the address. Did Hank give it to you?”

Truth

Lie

“No.” Connor replied. “He simply told me that you were going to be busy before you arrived at home. I didn’t think to ask him as I simply searched for it while I was leaving the precinct to depart towards your home.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel gave him a smirk that Connor now recognized as typical of her. “Oh, so now you’re also a stalker.” It was a statement that made Connor wonder if he had offended her, but her demeanour and tone of voice seemed to indicate it was nothing more than friendly banter. As she continued further into the room, she then looked back at him, her thick brown eyebrows knitted together in mild bewilderment. “Are...you gonna...come in?”

“I’m sorry, I was waiting for you to give me permission to enter.” He replied politely.

“I’m the one who invited you to my house!” Rachel pointed out with a gesture of her hand and a confused tone to her naturally loud voice. “Just come in, you dork. Take your shoes off and make sure you don’t let Bear out, he tends to chase shit into the street.”

Software Instability ^ He walked inside the house, making sure to close the door behind him, Bear’s tail wagging eagerly before he walked away to lay in what looked like a very comfortable den of blankets and pillows inside of his kennel, which was situated in the corner of the living room. “I’m just going to brew myself some tea.” Rachel called, going back towards the kitchen. “I’m assuming androids don’t eat or drink ‘cause it would probably fuck up their systems, right?”

“Correct.” Connor replied, as he began removing his work shoes with ease. “Androids cannot process the organic materials that humans consume, as it’s not compatible with their biocomponents. Consumption of such materials would indeed damage an android. However, some androids that are designed to work in food can taste what they make so that it’s suitable for a human’s needs. Their systems are specialized so that they can release the materials in the same way humans do.”

“And you, I’m guessing?” Rachel asked, an eyebrow raised. “Since I had the both amusement and disgust of learning about your filthy mouth and where it’s been.”

Software Instability ^ “Correct.” Connor answered. “Due to the nature of my analysis, I’ve also been built to release foreign materials.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Alright, so just tea for me, then.” She said, making her way into the kitchen. “Go ahead and have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Connor said curtly as he scanned the room.

Wait for Rachel to return Investigate Rachel’s home

He noticed that the walls were painted in very warm colours, dark oranges and rich shades of brown. It was a well-lit space, only further accentuated and magnified by the choice of colours for the interior. The kitchen led to the living room which was the room most adjacent to the large window in front. Around the corner of the wall of the living room was the kitchen and dining room combination, the sliding glass door leading to the backyard to the left of the kitchen and behind the dining room. Against the leftmost wall of the dining room, Connor could see a box that typically contained thirium or other android parts, yet there was no evidence of any working android in the home. He knew she was capable of performing small repairs on androids, but it seemed odd to have android supplies without actually possessing one.

Potentially repairing androids from home?

Connor detected another room behind the kitchen to the left from where he was facing, and peering inside, he could see several musical instruments, including an upright piano, a guitar, a ukulele, and a saxophone.

Rachel has musical interests. 🔓

To the left of the entrance and just before the dining room were the stairs leading up to the second floor, where he assumed Rachel’s bedroom was. Below the stairs was another door, likely storage, and then another that could be walked through. Given the layout Connor was noticing thus far, he concluded it was simply another door leading to the room with the piano in it.

Peering past the hallway next to the stairs was a door at the end. Given the placement of the driveway outside the house, Connor deduced that the door led to the garage. And to the left of that was a washing machine and a dryer, as well as several cupboards and shelves for various cleaning supplies and solutions.

And to the very left of the entrance was a pair of closet sliding doors, of which could be very easily assumed was for jackets, shoes, and other outdoor wear.

Surrounding the house were several photos and other decorations of various animals, most commonly owls of various species.

Rachel has a special interest in ornithology, specifically Strigiformes. 🔓

Alongside the several photographs of owls, there were illustrations of dragons, ranging from the typical four-legged winged dragons most common in pop culture, to other types such as wyverns and even some feathered varieties.

Rachel has a particular fondness for dragons.

In the living room itself, There was a large couch and two matching recliners on either side, a long coffee table seated deliberately in the middle, a remote control situated on it.

In front of the coffee table against the wall was a fireplace, the mantle holding multiple pictures and other decorations. Above the mantle was a large television screen that was switched off. “I’m just gonna put some tunes on! It’s way too quiet for me!” Connor heard Rachel call from the kitchen.

Say Nothing

“That’s fine!” Connor replied. “I don’t mind.”

The TV turned back on, a music sharing app on the screen as another album began playing. The display read The Saltwater Room, part of the 2008 album Maybe I’m Dreaming by Owl City, also known as Adam Young.

Rachel likes 2000-2020 era music.

As Connor approached to investigate the fireplace mantle, he found several photographs and other items of interest. Lying on one side of the mantle was a photograph of Rachel, a much younger Rachel, with several animals ranging from a small Syrian Hamster, to a black English Cocker Spaniel, to a Crested Gecko. Beside them were more recent photographs, one of Rachel with what appeared to be a photo of Bear as a puppy, and one with a piebald Ball Python snake.

Rachel cares deeply for animals. 🔓

Next to those photos were others of family. Some were rather old and others were more recent. Connor’s searches turned up several family members.

Of her immediate family, her father and her maternal grandmother were both deceased. Her grandmother died in 2025 and her father died in 2029

Several deceased family members.

Connor’s eyes scanned over the other end of the mantle, several decorations on it. Between them were several photographs of Rachel in what appeared to be a custom tailored suit and a veil with another taller and much wider set bearded man wearing glasses, also in a suit. It was clear that this was a wedding. The largest photo in the centre, of the pair of them smiling at the photographer, each other’s hands in the other’s.

In front of the photographs were three sets of rings. The pair on the left side was a size 7 white gold ring with a mythic topaz cut into the shape of a heart next to a size 13 sterling silver ring, the ends made to resemble a semicolon.

The pair on the right was a set of matching black steel rings of the same sizes, the small one reading “His Sally” and the larger one reading “Her Jack.” A search for media containing both the names Sally and Jack produced a stop-motion film from 1993 titled The Nightmare Before Christmas directed by Henry Selick and produced by Tim Burton.

And the pair in the middle was a pair of simple gold rings, of the same sizes. Simple bands, the surfaces engraved. The smaller one reading: “You and I are one...” and the larger one reading: “...now and forever, until the end of time.” Upon closer inspection, a date was engraved on the underside of the rings. August 25th, 2026.

Software Instability ^ Rachel is married.

Connor then turned his attention to the large photos and examined the face of the man posing with Rachel.

He turned up records that her husband, Frank, had died in January 2031.

Rachel is grieving the loss of her husband. 🔓

Having gathered enough information, Connor took a seat over on the large couch in front of the coffee table, patiently waiting for Rachel to be done with her tea.

Wait for Rachel to return Investigate Rachel’s home

“Sorry it took so long.” Rachel apologized before she entered the room, taking a seat on the couch, placing her mug on a nearby coaster on the coffee table. It was a grey mug with the star sign of Scorpio printed on it in white, labeled as such along with the dates Scorpio falls between. Upon analyzing the drink, it appeared to be a black tea blend made of cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, pink peppercorns, cloves, vanilla, and other natural flavouring.

Also in it was eggnog, likely added by Rachel to give it a more specific flavour and a more creamy texture. “It’s November, so gotta get that more cinnamony fall-flavoured tea. It’s one of my favourite holiday teas, even though it’s a year long tea at David’s Tea where I get it. Saigon Chai is what it’s called. Not much of a fan of it by itself, but with eggnog, it’s fucking amazing. Just, uh, be careful how much eggnog you put in so that you don’t just replace the taste of the tea with eggnog. Can’t stand eggnog by itself either, it’s way too sweet for me.”

Software Instability ^ She took a sip of it with a contented expression, her eyes closed in bliss as she lingered for a moment just to capture the scent of it. It almost made Connor wish that he’d been built with the ability to detect scents. “So,” she started, making direct eye contact with Connor, her dark eyes intense and yet somehow gentle and patient, “seems like we have some things to clear up between us.”

Connor nodded. “Correct.” He agreed. “But first, I wanted to inform you that Captain Fowler has officially assigned you to the deviancy case alongside Lieutenant Anderson. So from today onward, we’re officially partners.”

Rachel blinked a couple times in surprise, nodding. “Wow, finally a case fucking worth working on.” She sighed, taking another sip of her tea. “I’ve been getting a lot of boring ones or ones that barely take any effort. So, this should definitely be interesting.”

“I certainly hope so.” Connor agreed, winking at Rachel, knowing and earnestly enjoying the brief spike in her heart rate and breath intake that the gesture elicited from her.

Apologize for behaviour Understand Rachel’s reasons

She placed her mug back on its coaster, taking another sigh, before returning her gaze to the android, boring into him. “And?” She pressed.

“And,” Connor repeated, formulating the proper thing to say in this instance, “I wanted to apologize for my recklessness earlier on the highway. I should have considered the distress it would have caused both you and Lieutenant Anderson to see my destruction. And I want you to know that I will take extra precaution to ensure my own safety from now on.”

Rachel nodded, giving Connor an appreciative smile. “Thank you.” She muttered. “That really means a lot to me.”

Apologize for behaviour

The air between them had grown tense, sparking like the hum of a power cable. Connor was contemplating the next best course of action from this point.

Husband 🔓

Car Accident

Other Models

Nothing

“I’m not certain how well this will lend to your understanding of my decisions,” Connor started, Rachel returning her focus on him, taking another sip of her tea, “but I would like you to know this. When an RK800 model is destroyed, its memory is transferred to the next model. This is so that there is no slow in the investigation and so that it can continue without incident.”

“Well, I kinda figured that.” Rachel responded, much to Connor’s mild surprise. Or at least as close to surprise as he could get. “But that doesn’t matter. Just because you can upload your memories doesn’t mean you don’t die. It doesn’t make you more expendable than me. It just means that someone else has your memories, but it isn’t you.”

Her answers never seemed to fail to perplex and intrigue Connor. And despite knowing his focus should only be on his mission, he couldn’t help but want to know what she had to say. Her insights and philosophies were fascinating to him. She was more like an android than most humans, but more like a human than deviants were, clearly. Though according to her, she didn’t see much of a functional difference between the two.

And that, too, intrigued the RK800 android.

“Why’s that?” Connor asked, wanting to know what her viewpoint was. “If my memory is uploaded into another Connor model who exists to serve the same purpose, wouldn’t we still effectively be the same?”

“It’s not like when you backup a computer and put that data on another.” Rachel replied. “First of all, I doubt it’s as flawless and perfectly done as that usually is. Some data would probably get lost, I bet. And second of all, watching someone die and then show up the next day as if nothing had happened is like seeing a ghost. It’s alarming, unnerving, and it feels wrong and messes a lot with what you know is real and what isn’t. And depending on the way you die, it can be even more traumatic than it would otherwise be, though I’ve never met someone who wasn’t traumatized at the sight of someone else’s death.” She took another sip of tea, her eyes blinking in a way that Connor figured was her recollecting her thoughts in order to stay on-track of them. “And...”

Connor raised an eyebrow at her pause. “And?” He echoed.

She let out a sigh, avoiding meeting Connor’s eyes. “And it wouldn’t be you.” She finished. “It would look like you, sound like you, and maybe even act like you. But it wouldn’t be you. It wouldn’t be the same Connor I had met and protected last night. Or the same Connor I was touring around the precinct. Or the same Connor I was having banter and sharing jokes with a few hours ago.”

Connor was even more confused. “Why would that matter in regards to me?”

Software Instability ^ “Because like it or not, I already care about you and even if I didn’t, I still wouldn’t want you to die.” Rachel said rather bluntly, her dark eyes half-lidded as she took another sip of tea. “Forgive me, I’m paraphrasing again, but...this morning, we were nothing to each other. I was just another human like thousands of others. And you were just an android like the thousands in circulation. You had no need of me, nor I of you. But it was with the short time spent today, learning about each other, spending the time together on the case, and making efforts to look after one another, that changed that. After that point, you were no longer just another android like the thousands of others. You were Connor, our Connor, wholly unique and special and different to all the others. And I was no longer just another human like the thousands of others. I was Rachel, the human whom you feel the need and responsibility to apologize to right now for upsetting because you clearly wanted to take responsibility. And the day we just had proved we have need of each other, because of that bond that was forged.” She went on, Connor listening intently and committing her articulate and verbose explanations to memory. “If you died, and your memory was transferred to the next one, the Connor that was unique and special would still be dead. Because the Connor that would take your place wouldn’t be the same Connor. It’s not the same Connor that I put time and effort into establishing a connection with. So even if you can transfer your memories, you yourself are wholly unique and cannot be replaced or replicated. Sorry, that’s how it is and I don’t make the rules, so you’re not allowed to die.”

Connor nodded, a small smirk creasing his lips. “In that case, I have no choice but to comply.”

Rachel squinted her eyes, a strained smirk stretched across her small, yet ample lips, as if she was trying to discern if he was being earnest or humourous. But giving a nonchalant shrug, she simply took another sip of tea.

Husband 🔓

Car Accident

Nothing

“You mentioned that you witnessed a death in a road accident before.” Connor said flatly. “And that’s why when I returned to the alley, I noticed you were showing symptoms that corresponded to a trauma related panic attack, one of the most common forms of PTSD.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel nodded, her face drooping slightly. “Yeah, I was having...a really bad mental breakdown.” She answered, biting her lip and casting her gaze downward.

“You were triggered.” Connor stated. “The sight of the deviants and then myself endangering ourselves on the highway brought you back to that incident. That’s why you were so upset with me when I returned. You were afraid you were going to be forced to relive that incident all over again. Am I correct?”

Rachel was quiet for a moment. “Partially.” She took a sip of her tea before answering. “It was both that I didn’t want to watch another person die in an accident and that I didn’t want to relive that event. Both to have to see it happen again, and...to lose someone else I cared about in the same way again.” She swallowed, taking a deep breath, clutching onto her dark, striped, oversized sweater. “I lost someone very dear to me in a car accident. Someone I loved more than anything in the whole world. And I don’t want to lose anyone else like that ever again.”

It grew quiet between them once again, Rachel taking another sip of her tea. This time, she was refusing to make eye contact with Connor.

Husband 🔓

Nothing

“It was Frank, wasn’t it?” Connor asked, causing Rachel’s head to snap up to meet Connor’s eyes. “Your husband. That’s who died in that car accident seven years ago in January. You were married five years before that in August 2026 on the 25th.”

Software Instability ^ “My spouse.” Rachel corrected, not aggressively, but firmly. She blinked a couple times, her brown eyes blinking away tears that had not yet formed. “But, yes...they were the one that died in that accident.”

Connor changed Frank’s status as ‘spouse’ rather than ‘husband’ and changed their pronouns accordingly in his database.

Comfort

Pry

Ensure

“Do you feel comfortable enough talking to me about it?” Connor asked.

Rachel nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She replied, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s actually kind of nice to be able to talk to someone else about it. Well, aside from Hank, but...you’ve probably figured out that he’s not great at dealing with emotions. But, he knows, too.” Connor waited patiently for her to continue, his dark eyes fixed on her forlorn and sombre expression. She took another sip of her tea and cleared her throat.

“It was a late night. I was off work, and I went to pick Frank up. They had just gotten off, and it started snowing while they were working, so I texted them to let them know I was going to pick them up. So while I was driving home, they were telling me about this family they saw visiting one of the patients, and they had a young boy with them. Now, we’d already talked about the possibility of having a family, and we agreed it was something we both wanted. But that night, they suddenly asked me if I wanted to have a kid. And it sort of caught me off-guard, but I didn’t mind. So we talked for a little while on the way home, and...we decided to try for a baby.” Rachel’s voice wavered as she started to choke back tears. “I was so happy. Happy that I was going to be a mother. Happy that I was going to raise a child alongside the love of my life. And I was so excited to start that part of my life...and then I heard the sound of a truck, and then everything blacked out...”

Software Instability ^ Connor listened intently as Rachel recounted the painful memory, now failing to stop the tears from spilling down her face as she quietly sobbed into her sleeve, desperately wiping her eyes. Connor quickly took notice of a box of tissues on the coffee table and gently pulled out a couple of them and handed them to Rachel wordlessly.

She took them graciously, blinking away a few more tears as she brought one of the tissues to her nose and blew, a loud moist noise muffled by the tissue. She did this a few times before she crumpled the used tissue and threw it in a nearby garbage bin that was placed on the side of the fireplace on the opposite end to Bear’s kennel. “Thank you.” She squeaked, wiping her eyes and face with the second tissue before throwing that into the bin as well. “I blacked out...” She continued. “And when I came to, I could hear and see sirens everywhere. I felt like there was sand and pebbles under my skin across my whole body. There was so much pain everywhere except my left arm. My left arm was in so much pain it was numb. When I looked around, I realized that the car was upside down and that Frank was nowhere to be found. I also realized that the sand in my skin was road burn and shards of glass that were embedded in my skin in so many places. I tried desperately to find Frank, calling out to them, crawling out of the car to try and find them. And when I did, I crawled my way over to them. I got them to wake up and focus on me, but...”

Software Instability ^ She choked back another set of tears, prompting Connor to once again provide her with tissues, this time opting instead to just give her the whole box to hold onto. “It was too late for them...I begged them to stay with me...I tried to get them to stay, but I could see the light leaving their eyes...and they died in my arms.” Rachel had now effectively broken down into several broken and loud sobs, crying into and blowing her nose into several tissues. “The last thing I remember was screaming at the paramedics not to take me away from Frank...as they were pulling me, dragging me kicking and screaming...before they put me under...and I woke up in the hospital.”

Connor was quiet for a moment. There was a strange sensation in his systems, like the creaking of machinery, in his lower abdomen between his chest and where his gut would be if he had organs. Though he could also feel his chest tightening, which wasn’t normal for androids. Yet, just to be certain, he ran a diagnostics check on himself and all systems were fully functional. As the android looked into Rachel’s pained, damp, strained eyes, he was deciding what to do.

Comfort

Say Nothing

Rachel - Warm ^ “I’m sorry.” He said, gently and patiently. His voice was barely a whisper, but Rachel caught it as she glanced at him. “It wasn’t your fault, and I hope you know that.”

“I know...” Rachel said, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose again. “And I know they wouldn’t want me to feel that way. But...I can’t help it. There’s that horrible part deep in me that thinks of what I could’ve done to prevent it.” She let out a long sigh, her sobs beginning to subside. “And do you wanna know what the worst part is?”

Connor nodded.

Rachel sighed, grabbing her tea and taking another sip. “When I was in the hospital, it felt like time had stopped.” She confessed. “I was just in the bed in pain and not able to really move. It was just the same thing every day while the whole thing played over and over in my head. But that’s not the worst part...no. The worst part was when I was finally cleared to go back home from the hospital. My sister heard what happened and she picked me up, taking me home. It was early in the morning, and I expected to see Frank at home, with breakfast prepared ready to go to work...but then I remembered the accident. But for most of the day, I felt numb...like I was completely dead inside. I barely even talked to Bianca. It was one of the most painfully quiet days in my life. And then when I was looking at the clock, I realized it was about the time that Frank usually came home from work. And for the briefest of moments, I felt something. My heart jumped, and I was so ready to jump into their arms and tell them about everything that happened...but then I remembered...and that’s when it really sunk in.” Rachel’s eyes began spilling tears again. “Frank wasn’t going to be waiting for me to come home anymore. And they weren’t going to be coming home to me either...Frank...was gone. I was never going to come home to them ever again. And they were never going to come home to me. That’s when it sunk in...that I was never going to see them again...that our family we were so happy to start...was never going to happen...and I felt my heart die...”

Software Instability ^ The woman slumped over and pulled her hood over her head, hiding her face from the android, her quiet weeps muffled as she pulled herself in tighter around herself. “I just broke down in Bianca’s arms...” Rachel croaked. “I couldn’t handle it...and I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful not to be alone...it was horrible, Connor.”

Connor was about to say something before Rachel suddenly slumped hard into him, curled up against his leg. Unsure of what to do with the unexpected contact, he simply rested his left arm on her back. “I’m sorry.” Was all he could really say to console her. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to go through something like that, Rachel.” He looked down at her, as she peaked through her hood up at the android, her broken spirit behind her eyes palpable. “I’ll put in the utmost effort to ensure you don’t have to experience that again.”

Rachel nodded, wiping her eyes and reaching for the tissues again, sitting up and straightening herself out. After she blew her nose and wiped her eyes, she threw more tissues into the garbage bin, taking several deep breaths. “Losing Frank has been the hardest thing that’s ever happened to me.” She said, beginning to regain her composure. She pulled her sweater closer to herself. “This used to be theirs.” She pointed out. “It’s one of the few things I have left to remember them by.

Connor nodded, breaking eye contact with Rachel and instead looking down at his hands.

Comforting

Reassuring

Sincere

Sympathetic

“This may just be a...plastic cop’s opinon.” Connor said, the light in Rachel’s eyes returning. “But I think if they knew what you were doing and that despite how difficult it’s undoubtedly been to continue without them, that you were still continuing to live, they would be proud of you.”

Rachel - Friend ^ Rachel nodded, her breath steadying. “Yeah...I think you’re right.” She said, looking over at Connor who was now meeting her eyes again. “They would be proud of me. And they would love me no matter what and they’d want me to keep going no matter what life throws at me. It was...one of the things they admired most about me.”

Software Instability ^ Before Connor could say anything else, Rachel collapsed into the android’s arms, pressing her face into his chest. “Thank you...for listening to me.” She whispered.

Connor sat there for a moment, feeling that tightness in his chest again as he slowly enclosed his arms around her, in what he had hoped was an acceptable comforting gesture. “Of course.” He responded in kind.

Understand Rachel’s reasons

Suddenly, Rachel began shifting as she pulled back to look up at Connor, her eyes beginning to dry and her breathing becoming less damp and sniffly. “Is...is your thirium pump supposed to be beating that fast?”

Software Instability ^ Connor wasn’t certain how to answer that, as he hadn’t even noticed the speed of his working pump until Rachel brought it up. He was also mildly shocked that in her painful moment, she was distracted by concern for him. But running another diagnostics check revealed no issues and that all systems were fully operational once more.

Something that only served to confuse the android even more.

“Not typically.” Connor answered in earnest. “But I’m not detecting any faults in my hardware.”

“Huh.” Rachel said, wiping her eyes again. “Weird.”

Software Instability ^ Suddenly her attention was then focused on a large black mass of fur, her face twisting into a soft and tender smile as she started ruffling Bear’s large fluffy head. “I know, I need to take you out to go poop, right?” The large Newfoundland barked a loud and rumbling bark as he lifted himself on his hind legs to stand on Rachel’s lap. “Okay, oh Jesus. Okay, we’ll go.” She strained, picking up the dog’s paws and placing him back on the ground, getting up off the couch herself. “Okay, I’ll go take Bear out to go poop, but I’ll be right back.” She informed Connor.

The android nodded. “I’ll wait until you come back.” He replied.

Objective complete

As the dog gathered excitedly around the door, letting out the occasional bark at Rachel as she attached a harness onto the large black dog, Connor couldn’t help but stare at her as she went out the door onto the front lawn. About five minutes passed until she had returned, a bag of organic material in her hand that she quickly disposed into the garbage bin beside the front door. “Alright, there you go baby.” She said, taking her shoes off and removing Bear’s harness. “Okay, go play!”

As the dog scampered to find one of the various dog toys scattered in the house, Connor began calculating his next course of action. For a moment, he pondered as to whether or not he should go. After all, he did what he wanted to do. His objective here was complete. “Alright, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time, Rachel.” Connor said as he got up from the couch and straightened his tie. “I should be off.”

Rachel then snapped her head in his direction, surprise on her face. “Wait...you’re leaving already?”

Software Instability ^ The disappointment in her voice was rather palpable, and Connor couldn’t help but want to comply. “I have accomplished my objective.” He said flatly. “I no longer have any reason to be here. Unless there’s anything else you need?”

“Well, no.” She said, walking up to him, her arms folded. “But I’d like you to stay. Besides, where are you even planning to go? Were you going to just follow Hank home?”

Connor nodded. “I was going to try meeting with the lieutenant, yes.”

Rachel sort of scoffed at him. “And, what would you have done if you couldn’t do that? Where would you even go? I doubt you have your own house, or anything.”

Androids didn’t need such accommodations as a house in the same way humans did. But his only plans were going to go to CyberLife for manual tune-ups and maintenance.

Software Instability ^ But for some strange reason, there was a hesitance in Connor. As if he didn’t actually want to go to CyberLife. For some strange reason, he felt a strange visceral inclination to avoid physically going to meet them.

An inclination that didn’t seem to have any sort of real rhyme or reason, which only served to concern Connor.

“I was actually thinking we could hang out for a bit.” Rachel suggested, looking up at him with pleading eyes, adjusting her glasses. “Just us two. Spend some time together until we get another break in the case.”

Connor tilted his head at her questioningly.

[Stay]

[Leave]

Insist

“You are aware that I was not designed to be a companion android.” Connor explained. “While I have been designed to have far more advanced social protocol programs than other androids, my purpose is to assist police investigators and nothing more.”

“I’m aware of all of that, Connor.” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “That’s not why I want to hang out with you. I wanna hang out with you both because we’re partners now and also friends.”

Software Instability ^ Friends. The word felt so foreign to the android to be described of himself. Yet, it felt...appropriate to describe their relationship as such. “When you’re friends, you don’t really need a reason to spend time.” Rachel continued. “You just spend time together because you want to. Because you enjoy each other’s company and enjoy being around that person. That’s what it means to be friends. Or one of the many things that make friendships meaningful.” Connor couldn’t help the small twinge of...something rather strange in him that he couldn’t identify. The feeling of being valued so much by someone, not because of his ability to be a detective or his being an android. But because of his character. Because Rachel simply enjoyed his company. “So, will you stay?”

He had no reason to placate her. This had nothing to do with his mission and nothing to do with the deviants. His only objective coming here was to apologize and make amends with the human detective so they could have a better working relationship, and he had indeed accomplished his objective.

So why did he feel the strong inclination to stay?

[Stay]

[Leave]

Software Instability ^ Connor gave her a smile. “I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to refuse.” He said, taking a seat back on the couch.

Objective: Spend time with Rachel

He had now become more aware of the speed his thirium pump was working, and at the sight of Rachel’s enthusiastic smile, it only increased further. Another diagnostics check turned up nothing at fault in his systems, which further perplexed him. He then glanced over at her tea, detecting that it had gone cold. “You should probably heat your tea again.”

Rachel shrugged as she took a seat. “Oh, don’t worry too much about that.” She said with a casual wave, taking another sip. “I don’t mind it when my tea gets cold. The warmth is more for comfort, but I’ve noticed that the flavour is a lot stronger when it gets cold.”

Connor nodded. “Ah, I see.” The moment was quiet as the music continued on the television.

Music 🔓

Birds 🔓

Animals 🔓

Let her decide

“I’ve noticed you have a room adjacent to the dining room with musical instruments.” Connor pointed out, gesturing to the door. “Given that you were singing just earlier, I gather it would be fair to assume you have musical interests.”

Rachel - Friend ^ “Oh, yeah. Definitely.” Rachel said, looking away with a small blush in her capillaries. “Honestly, if the music industry wasn’t so sketchy and seedy, I would’ve gone into it. But I practice a lot on the side whenever I feel like it.” She then got up. “Do you want to see?”

Connor got up. “Sure.”

The woman lifted herself off the couch, gripping her mug of now cold tea and Connor followed, the android allowing her to lead him to the room.

Following closely, he was now able to get a better view of the room. The room was painted red, with a yellow wall on one side and an orange wall adjacent to it. Connor was able to investigate this room further, particularly the instruments. On the wall was a guitar, smaller than many, but given that Rachel was shorter than average and appeared to have smaller hands, it made sense. Right beside it was a ukulele, a rounder oval shape of the base with a printed pattern on it that made it appear like a pineapple. Another hanging off the wall was an alto saxophone.

Next to them was a bookshelf lined with music sheets, books, and others. Many of them appeared to be years old and filled with several pieces from the classic to the contemporary.

On the shelf were other smaller instruments, such as two clay ocarinas of different types and a kalimba.

There were two other instruments that appeared to be well-kept, but unused. A hurdy gurdy and a banjo.

And on the wall facing the kitchen entrance to the room was an upright piano that was in fairly decent condition. It was clearly one of the more played instruments in the room, the others being the ukulele and the guitar.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Rachel asked, leaning against the piano. “It’s not the fanciest piano, but it doesn’t need to be. A well-kept piano sounds just the same as any other and I’ve always wanted an authentic one. I grew up playing an electric keyboard, and I wanted an acoustic piano. There’s just something about the weight of the keys and the way the sound reverberates around a room that electric keyboards just can’t compare to.” She took a seat on the piano bench, her form outlined by the light filtering in through the window. The sun was going down, and the warm light made the room glow a much deeper colour.

Whoever designed the house had a real talent for interior design.

“And you play all of these instruments?” Connor asked, still standing in the room.

“Not all of them.” Rachel replied, gesturing towards the banjo and hurdy gurdy. “Those were Frank’s.” She clarified. “That banjo was actually their father’s. The one good thing that actually came out of that bastard. But the nice thing after we got married was that Frank never had to see that piece of shit ever again. Now, Frank wasn’t exactly the most artistic person, and they didn’t really have much of a sense of rhythm or was all that musically gifted. But they loved how the banjo sounded, and knowing that their father had one he never played sparked their interest in learning. And they did learn. And after putting in the effort and time to learn, they got pretty damn good at it.” She then gestured to the hurdy gurdy. “And that was their very favourite instrument. Which only made them more determined to learn how to play it.”

Connor went still. “Oh.” He then turned around to look at the other instruments. “And the others?”

“All mine.” Rachel replied. “I practice whenever I feel like it.”

Connor scanned over all of them once again and then returned his dark chocolate gaze onto Rachel. He couldn’t help but want to hear her play something, the memory he recorded of her singing at the forefront of his mind.

Piano

Guitar

Ukulele

“I’m curious to listen to you play the guitar.” Connor said, taking a seat next to Rachel, leaning forward into his lap, his hands folded neatly. “There’s something captivating about the vibrations of the steel strings of a guitar as it’s strummed or picked.”

Rachel scoffed at him. “I thought you said, and I quote, ‘I don’t really listen to music, as such.’” She teased, doing what sounded like an imitation of Connor’s voice, giving him a cheeky smirk coupled with a confidently raised eyebrow.

“But I’d like to.” Connor finished, returning her smirk.

She looked away from him quickly as she got up to reach for the guitar. For a moment, she seemed to be too short to reach it, but had clearly done it enough times to know how to do it without damaging the instrument. In fact, from what Connor could tell, Rachel took very good care of her instruments.

The sounds of unzipping could be heard as Rachel had undone her sweater and shucked it off her shoulders, placing it on a nearby chair and revealing her form.

Software Instability ^ She had rather broad shoulders for her petite figure, which were further accentuated by the black t-shirt she was wearing. Her short, brown, wavy hair rested effortlessly against her neck, just barely short of her shoulders. Even the way her rich dark locks framed her face was far more noticeable now that she had taken off the sweater, which was evidently twice her size in width and a head taller than her. Connor couldn’t help but notice how the evening light accentuated her curves. She was by no means a thin woman, her abdomen appearing round and soft and her hips wide and quite evident. Her chest, once disguised easily by her sweater, was now quite noticeable, though Connor knew it wouldn’t be appropriate to stare. It was considered rude. He then finally noticed her arms and legs. Toned, but not all that muscular. Built for speed and bursts of energy and activity, but not necessarily endurance or great feats of strength.

Connor didn’t really have much of a reference or understanding of what it meant or felt like to find something or someone beautiful, or even aesthetically pleasing. But he felt that if there was any feasible way to describe Rachel physically, ‘beautiful’ would be accurate.

“Hey, you good?” Rachel said, an inquisitive look in her dark eyes, snapping Connor out of his focus. “I didn’t think androids could get distracted.”

“Not typically.” Connor replied. “But their objectives can be overwritten if something else has taken more immediate attention. It happens when analyzing multiple aspects of a given location.”

Rachel scoffed with a roll of her eyes and sat back down next to Connor. She began plucking the strings, listening intently as she adjusted the tuning keys accordingly. It seemed she had enough of a sensitivity to sound that she could tune her instruments with ease by ear alone.

After fiddling with the tuning enough, she played a C chord, followed by several others to be sure that it sounded right. Connor could detect that it was indeed tuned correctly to the standard that guitars were typically tuned. And with the speed she changed chords so seamlessly, she was definitely skilled. “You know, the one good thing that came out of the accident is that I can actually play better with my left hand than I used to be able to.” She said with a chuckle. “I can actually reach the damn frets. That was always a problem for me, cause my fingers were too short and the necks were always too thick for me to be able to play them well. Especially ‘cause all of my dad’s guitars were, well, for him. Not for me. He taught me how to play.” Her eyes flickered over to the ukulele on the wall. “Although I learned to play the ukulele before I played the guitar. Of the two, guitar’s definitely more difficult.”

She demonstrated this by playing more difficult chords one after another, switching seamlessly between them, her hand gliding across the frets. The android couldn’t help but find himself hypnotized by the movements of her hand.

She stopped for a moment, not looking at Connor, her eyebrows pressed together as if searching for something. After a moment, she began playing something, her right hand going for something softer and mellower, plucking the strings methodically and rhythmically, her left hand switching notes swiftly.

It was evidently clear that she had practiced a great deal, as her playing seemed so effortless and graceful. She played a long intro before she took in a breath and began to sing.

I know that we are upside down.

So, hold your tongue and hear me out.

I know that we were made to break.

So what? I don't mind.

Connor quickly identified the song as originally by an EDM artist called Zedd, this song in particular featuring vocals by Hayley Williams, also known as Paramore, from the 2012 album Clarity. However, it was evident that this was not in the same style as the original song. It was actually played in the style of a cover of this song sung by an artist named Stassi.

You kill the lights, I'll draw the blinds.

Don't dull the sparkle in your eyes.

I know that we were made to break.

So what? I don't mind.

Software Instability ^ As Connor listened, he began to notice the sheer elegance in Rachel’s voice as she played. Her speaking voice was so brazen, so confident, and so vulgar. She was indeed as much of a foulmouth as the lieutenant was, perhaps one of the reasons they seemed to get along so well. Her loud and energetic speaking voice portrayed her determined and fiery attitude very well.

Are you gonna stay the night?

Oh oh oh, are you gonna stay the night?

But this was much different. Her voice was soft, gentle, graceful, and flowing. There was even a certain gravelly and breathy quality to it that was evident when she sang in the lower octave of the song. Her singing voice now was far more vulnerable, delicate, and soft.

Are you gonna stay the night?

Doesn't mean we're bound for life.

So oh oh oh, are you gonna stay the night?

Something that seemed to be evident in the things she kept quiet about during the day. It was a reflection of her gentle, patient, kind, and empathetic nature that was underneath the rough, foul, and brazen displays of anger and boldness. And Connor couldn’t tear his attention away from it.

Software Instability ^ As Rachel played the break in the song, Connor found himself absolutely entranced by her musicality, and once again, he could feel something strange happening in his software. Androids didn’t need to breathe, only to simulate it to prevent their systems from overheating. But despite knowing it was impossible, he felt as though his breath had been siphoned out of his chest. If he had any other directives or objectives, he had completely forgotten them in his moment, his only focus was on Rachel.

The moment she opened her mouth to move onto the next verse, he could feel something akin to a jump in his pump rate. A warning flashed on-screen.

Software Instability ^ Warning - Overheating

Connor took notice of the warning that appeared on his interface and remembered to take a simulated breath to cool the temperature that was starting to rise in his biocomponents, but not once tearing his attention away from Rachel’s vibrant and gentle voice.

I am a fire, you're gasoline.

Come pour yourself all over me.

We'll let this place go down in flames

Only one more time.

You kill the lights, I'll draw the blinds.

Don't dull the sparkle in your eyes.

I know that we were made to break.

So what? I don't mind.

Are you gonna stay the night?

Oh oh oh, are you gonna stay the night?

Are you gonna stay the night?

Doesn't mean we're bound for life.

So oh oh, are you gonna stay the night?

The conclusion of the song was drawing near, and Connor had realized that he had unconsciously shifted himself closer, their legs touching. It was strange. He didn’t remember inputting any such command.

Software Instability ^ After Rachel finished playing, she looked up shyly at Connor, just as quickly looking away, instead focusing her gaze on the base of the guitar. “Sorry,” she apologized meekly in a way that Connor found typically uncharacteristic of Rachel, but no less endearing. “I haven’t played for anyone in a very long time, so forgive me if I seem a bit nervous or awkward.”

Connor couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, and felt as though he should break the silence that had wormed its way between them.

Sincere

Analytical

Pleasant

Indifferent

“It’s so different than how you were when I met you just this morning. It’s far more gentle, elegant, and graceful.” Connor said, a smile on his face. “I thoroughly enjoy hearing you play and I like listening to you sing. Your voice has a unique quality to it, and I hope you know that.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel - Friend ^

The shocked look on her face, coupled with the blush that started to form on her cheeks, and the way she shyly looked away, pressing her face into her shoulder, made Connor feel as though nothing else mattered. He managed to get a glance of her bashful smile before she looked back into his eyes. “Thank you.” She said quietly. “I...I really appreciate the compliment.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer, seemingly not wanting to tear their gazes away from each other.

Suddenly, Connor was getting a report, his processors being bombarded with information. “What is it?” Rachel asked, noticing his sudden silence.

“I just got a report of a homicide downtown.” Connor stated, looking at Rachel. “We should go collect Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Huh, well damn. That was fast.” Rachel said with a nod, putting her guitar on the wall and then retrieving her sweater. “Where exactly is it?”

“The Eden Club.” Connor replied. “The most popular android sex club in Detroit.”

“Ooooh! Fun!” Rachel said, pulling her phone out of her pocket and squinting at it. “Oh. That explains the text I got from Gavin, then.” She then sighed, holding her sweater. “Well, if we’re going somewhere like that, I suppose I should wear something a bit better than just a sweater.” She looked back at Connor with a smirk. “I’ll take one of my leather jackets.” She then left the room, Connor following behind her.

Objective complete

As they walked into the living room, she quickly opened her hallway closet, grabbing a pair of leather laced boots and a very thick zip-up leather jacket. Connor tilted his head at her inquisitively, remembering that he had taken his shoes off after coming in and slipping them back on. “Strange, I didn’t take you for someone who would have such an affinity for leather clothes.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel gave him a sly side-eye before she put her boots on and got up close to Connor, pulling her jacket up onto her shoulders and zipping herself up, making his breath hitch in his nonexistent throat. “Well, where we’re going, I figured wearing some leather would help me fit right into the environment.” She said in a tone of voice that made his pump skip. “And plus, I look pretty damn good in leather.”

She then gave him a wink as she opened the door and exited the house, and Connor found his attention drawn to her hips before he refocused himself on following after her, closing the door and allowing her to lock the door.

The pair made their way to the sidewalk and Connor had already called a taxi to the address. “Where should we look for the lieutenant?” The android asked his partner.

“Jimmy’s Bar, probably.” Rachel said casually, checking her phone. “But if not, probably at his house getting drunk.”

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

Next Chapter

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sgtrolandhills · 5 years ago

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Mime of My Life || Arthur & Roland

TIMING: About 5 days ago PARTIES: @arthurjdrake & @sgtrolandhills SUMMARY: After finding Arthur injured, Roland goes to visit him in the hospital to get information about his attacker.

With the injuries addressed, Arthur had been transferred to a spare bed in an isolated area to recover after the ordeal of the night. One of the hospital security workers had been stationed on the door, just in case whoever had attacked him thought of coming here to finish off the job. Nurses flitted in and out of the ward, occasionally taking readings from the monitors and otherwise checking in on how he was doing. Mostly Arthur slept.

After being checked over and with some of the tubes extracted from his throat, Arthur was left with an oxygen mask and a meter on his finger. The slow beep of the heart rate monitor and whirring electricity the only noises to keep him company in the otherwise silent room. He lay there, eyes closed and feeling like he’d been flattened by a trillion kilo steamroller almost certain that if there was one thing that would drive him to insanity that beeping would be it.

The hours ticked by, no one else turning up to check on him. No visitors, no family or friends. A lonely fact, but simply another part of Arthur’s world. He only hoped everyone else was safe. And so he was left to sleep and dream of his own doppelganger driving a blade into his chest over and over the memories occasionally causing his monitors to spike and a concerned attendee to return. It was after waking in a morphine induced numbness that his eyes blearily focussed on a nurse standing nearby speaking words he could vaguely make out. “Mister Drake? There’s an officer here… He’s hoping to get a statement about the case… Can I let him in?”

He nodded mutely, the act enough for the nurse to smile, pet his hand and tell him that if he needed anything just to press the button on the remote attached to his bed before she vanished once more. Leaving Arthur to sink back into the pillows, his eyes rolling closed as he took slow shallow breaths from the mask covering his face.

No matter home many times it happened in his career, Roland always hated coming across an injured civilian. Ideally, he wanted to be on the scene before anyone had the chance to get hurt. The world rarely ever worked out that way, but it was still nice to strive for as much every time. He was able to accept that all he could do for the people in his community was his best. This man had been unconscious and severely injured when Rolan came across him. Hopefully, he was able to recall the details surrounding his injuries so they could get the culprit behind bars sooner rather than later.

Conducting investigations in hospital rooms was not his favorite. Hospitals always left him feeling slightly uncomfortable and with good reason. His own discomfort couldn’t get in the way of his doing his job. Violence in the community had spiked and if his hunch was right, the mimes had something to do with this man’s injuries. It was hard to be certain of what their motive was, but they definitely had a taste for theatrics and violence.

One of the nurses had escorted him to Mister Drake’s room so he could ask a few questions. Hopefully he wasn’t too much of a bother, but the longer the waited, the more likely the perpetrator was likely to get away scot-free. With a nod, he walked in and took a seat by the bed. “Mister Drake, I’m Officer Hills. I’m the officer who found you on the scene. I was wondering if you’d be able to answer a few questions regarding your attacker.”

By the time the officer in question was brought to the room, Arthur was barely half-awake on the morphine being drip-fed into his arm to stave off the pain from the several stab wounds across his chest which were now patched with sterile surgical dressings. Perhaps if he’d had a chance to get to his supply he could’ve dealt with the more significant damage, but the situation and amount of blood expended during the course of the fight hadn’t lent itself to that. And so, here he was, rigged up to an oxygen tank to take some of the burden off his lungs. One of which he’d been helpfully informed had collapsed from one of the stabs he’d received but had since been drained and reinflated. But it would take time to heal.

His eyes cracked opened, rimmed by tiredness despite the apparent amount of time he’d spent sleeping focussing on the uniformed man that had taken up a seat beside the bed. Officer Hills. He repeated the name to himself in his mind for a moment, feeling uncharacteristically slow on the update but he likely had the drugs to thank for that. A hand raised after a moment, grasping the mask and pulling it down so he could speak.

“I’ll do my best officer… Not sure,” he coughed the act making him grimace at a flare of discomfort in his chest “not sure… It’ll make much… sense. But I’ll try.”

There was a good chance Roland would have to revisit Mister Drake at a later time due to his current condition. It was likely he was on a lot of pain medication, but he hoped the man had enough of his mental facilities to at least give him a physical description of the perpetrator. The sooner they knew who they were after, the better. If time hadn’t been so vital in these cases, he’d have let the man have some more time to rest.

He had a mask on and his eyes were just barely open and looked tired. Roland would make a point of getting through this quickly so he could go back to getting some much needed rest. His body had taken a lot of trauma and needed time to recuperate. “I appreciate as much,” he said, offering a sympathetic look as he pulled out his notepad.

“Do you have any recollection of what the person who stabbed you looked like,” he started, it was the most important question so he figured it was best to get it out of the way first before the morphine or exhaustion set in too deep.

Arthur gave a small nod, moving to sit up a little more with aid of the electronic backrest of the bed. It wasn’t very comfortable but it would serve for the time being he supposed. Idly his thoughts went to Mercy, Nadia, Evelyn, Regan… All the others out there in town that might not know about whatever was unfolding in town. He’d have to ask one of the nurses whether they might be able to pass on a message for him. A phone would keep him far more sane in this room all things considered.

But that wasn’t the thing to focus on as Officer Hills was asking a question he both anticipated and dreaded. How did you even begin to explain what had happened without sounding out of your mind?

“He… He looked like me but… a mime… Silent. It was-- fuck it was freaky.” He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes for a moment as he replayed the events of the night in hazy flashes the heart rate monitor’s beeps speeding up just a fraction. “I was asleep… Woke up to it just standing there over my bed and blood everywhere… But no weapon… There was no weapon...” How was there no weapon and yet… This? Was it just invisible or something else?

Roland’s brows furrowed as the man explained the mime looked exactly like him. His mind quickly darted back to the mime he arrested that looked just like Winston. This whole thing with the mimes was getting crazier the deeper he dove into it. Gangs weren’t a foreign concept, but why mimes? It’s not like they were clowns which were more traditionally seen as frightening. They were mimes! Clearly, they were doing a fair amount of damage in the town.

It was a lot to take in, especially the lack of weapon. That could have been the drugs talking though. They had Forensics on the scene to collect more evidence. “Another mime impersonator. This isn’t the first report we’ve got of this. I can assure you we’re taking this very seriously. Are you sure you didn’t see any sort of weapon? This could help us identify and capture the perpetrator.”

Arthur knew how it sounded and seeing the way the Sergeant’s face changed was enough to tell him enough about what the result of this investigation would be. It wasn’t really surprising, but if he really wanted to pursue this then all credit to him.

“Another?” how many more of these things were out there… “This has happened to other people?” Fuck, there was a moment of panic that sent the monitors beeping a little more rapidly. “How many?” Gods damn it why had he not grabbed his phone? Who did he need to check on? Frey, Nadia, Evelyn, Regan, too many people to count. But the next question brought his drifting mind back to focus for a moment. “Right…” very seriously, somehow it didn’t put Arthur at all that much ease to hear “no weapon... but… we fought… Maybe it... fell out of his hand?” It wasn’t true and Arthur knew, but he didn’t want his hospital stay extended by this sergeant thinking he was out of his mind.

Roland hadn’t meant to cause the man any alarm. Recovering from traumatic injury was difficult enough as it were, the stress of murderous mimes only made it worse. If he wanted to capture these murderous mimes and figure out what their aim was, he needed to chase every lead that came his way.

“Yes,” he said calmly, no need to tell the already shaken up man that all the mimes they had arrested had disappeared from their cells without a trace, “We’ve had several reported cases and arrests in regards to similar situations with the mimes. We’re doing our best to track down who’s calling the shots.” It appeared he’d have to take a look over the scene again. No weapon had been found in an initial sweep, but maybe it was stashed away somewhere. Fingerprints would be a good start, “We’ll take a look over the scene again to see if perhaps they left it behind. Prior to this, have you had any negative dealings with the mimes?”

Arthur’s expression remained visibly worried at the mention of there being several more incidents. Of course there had been, some of the earlier tiredness had been replaced by a mild case of fear regarding the well-being of several of his close friends. What if they didn’t know? “Surely… Shouldn’t the town be warned about this? People... need to know...”

“Were there… reasons for the other attacks?” Idly Arthur wondered if this was all pre-meditated somehow, but then what had he done to warrant this? If anything he tried to go the opposite direction whenever these mime fucks were involved. In his opinion the further he was from them the better in the grand scheme of things. Though… look where that mentality had gotten him. “No… well, I was assaulted at a person’s birthday party… It was held at that stripe club place… But nothing happened.” For a moment he grew quiet, wondering whether it was pertinent… But he supposed mentioning it wouldn’t hurt in the grand scheme of things, “I… Um… I don’t know if it’s relevant but… I’ve been… Well, feeling like I was being followed for the last week… It was weird because I was always alone.” But maybe he hadn’t been… The question was how had these fucks gotten around without him noticing?

The more Roland learned of the now widespread mime attacks, the more confused he found himself. There were always more questions than answers the more he thought it over. Nothing quite added up. Pieces fit together, but the whole picture was just missing something. It was reason to be alarmed and he’d made sure the citizens knew as much, even if he did have to face backlash from that one mime restauranteur.

“Nothing connects the other attacks just yet, but we have taken steps to make sure the people of the town are on the lookout for mimes impersonating them,” he answered calmly. He tried to keep his voice soothing, not wanting to cause too much stress to the man as he was healing from substantial injuries. “So you’ve visited The Stripe Club. That’s some sort of connection. What was the nature of the assault at this establishment? Were there indications that any of them were violent or had some sort of leader?” It made sense that he’d have the feeling of being followed if the mime was impersonating him. They had to learn mannerism and appearances to make this whole very strange series of attacks possible. “Did you notice the being followed shortly after you visit to the Stripe Club?”

In a way, Arthur felt bad for those that chose to deny what was right in front of them. He understood why they did, of course, but it was difficult to just stand by and watch someone try to work through something they truly had no answer for. But he’d done enough when it came to bringing certain people into the know, and somehow he wasn’t sure the sergeant would believe him even though he would have been telling the truth. But none of that mattered, the main thought his hazy mind kept circling back to was his friends. Did they know? Gods he hoped they knew.

Clearly whatever steps they had tried to implement weren’t enough, the thought caused a slightly sour expression to cross his features. Why else would he be here save for not knowing a damn thing about what was going on?

But focus was drawn once more, and he blinked past the haze of the drugs clouding his mind. Slowing it down and leaving it drifting in circles. “Once… It was… a joke honestly,” he didn’t even know the guy in question, “nothin’... serious… Just a mime… a mime fucker trying to drag… drag me on stage. But I didn’t...” He shook his head at the next question, “no… but… There was-- one… Obsessed with… uuuh washis name? Fuck dog… pest control… Lanky?” He groaned mildly in frustration over the details of everything being so fuzzy where he was used to clarity of detail, one hand going to his face as he pressed his eyes closed. “Karen… Langley? It was his party… One seemed to be in charge then… maybe?” He tried to think, focus on the exact information that seemed to slip from his grasp every time he tried to retrieve it. “No.. No, started last week.”

Roland was surprised to hear that Mister Drake knew Langley though he supposed it was a small town. The officer couldn’t have been more grateful to have missed that trainwreck of a birthday party. Mister Drake was a better sport than he was, even if he had moved here already, there was no one worth stepping in a mime strip club for. There were certain lines and a mime strip crossed about twelve of them. Especially now with all the mime violence, it had even less appeal. That little detail didn’t help with making any more sense of this whole strange situation the town was going through.

It was hard to not notice the change in expression and Roland knew he had to wrap this up. Mister Drake needed rest and some time to not think about mimes. He looked down at his hands clasped around his notepad, his right hand squeezing the pen harder than he needed to to jot down the information Mister Drake provided.

“Thank you for the information. I can assure you we’re looking further into this and bringing as many of the violent people dressed up as mimes in. I’m sorry you had to go through this,” he said, his gaze cast back on Mister Drake, as he frowned slightly. “Last week, that’s something to work with. Have you been anywhere in the last week that would have security footage I could look into? I promise this is the last question and you can get back to resting. I know you need it.”

Arthur wasn’t sure whether it would be beneficial in any way, but it was the nearest thing to organised structure and even that was a leap and a half. Honestly, what did any of them truly know about the mimes? Other than the fact they were now trying to murder the townfolk. But what could be done to stop them? There had to be some kind of answer… Maybe once he was back on his feet he’d look into it.

He gave a small nod of his head feeling a wash of tiredness creeping over him, apparently trying to think about everything that had happened took a fair chunk of energy. Not to mention the current shock of coming to terms with the fact he’d almost died today… And the fact he’d killed someone.

There was blood on his hands, and whether it was self-defence or not… The notion was enough to make him feel all sorts of queasy. He was a professor, he taught people and helped them better themselves… He didn’t… He didn’t kill people or even things that resembled people… “Um… I walk… The Quarter - downtown… Near the university.” There might be more, but the pieces were falling from his mind like fine grains of sand slipping through a net. “M’sorry…” his voice wavered, uncertain and upset. Gods was he a murderer now?

It appeared Mister Drake was becoming more and more strained, so Roland opted to end any further questions. The Quarter was something to work with, or at least it had been a little more of a lead than he previously had. After the incident at A Quiet Place, it was clear getting straightforward answers from any of the mimes working at the mime restaurants and bars in town. It was frustrating, but it meant he’d just have to get more creative with how they solved the case.

“I can check that out. In the meantime, you rest up,” he answered, trying to keep his voice level and soft. Once he healed up, Roland’s card would be there for him to use if he thought of anything else. Right now, he could work on chasing a new lead and hoping it led somewhere. He placed his card on the table by the bed, “If you think of anything else, give me a call.”

With a nod, he left the room so Arthur could get some much needed rest. It was hard to see someone in so much pain. He could only hope they got to the bottom of this mime situation sooner rather than later.

#mime of my life #arthur #wickedswriting

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b4kuch1n · 5 years ago

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23° off-kilter on the carpet

Here’s the ported version of the Sleep Deprivation Fic (actually most of my fics are sleep deprivation fics because of who I am as a person, but that’s beside the point) just to follow the principle that all of my stuff should have a post on this blog. As of this moment, only mildly proofread because I spotted errors and typos while refreshing the AO3 page repeatedly for an extended period of time.

In which Todd walks in on Dirk laying on the office’s floor, and things go mild from there.

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Read on AO3

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Dirk was on the floor when Todd arrived at the office.

Okay, it was less frightening than it sounded. All three of the office’s employees end up on the floor semi-frequently because things just happen to them now apparently, and Todd can count on one hand the amount of times it was anything actually serious. More bad things happen to them while they’re just out walking than when they lay down on the office’s floor, if he’s counting correctly and not just blacking out the terrible parts. It’s refreshing that there’s one thing in their life now that’s not lethal.

Well, that’s not really fair; their life isn’t that bad. It’s just weird. Todd doesn’t mind weird, he’s just deeply branded with being a normal asshole, and now being a weird helper feels… weird.

Anyway: yes, coming into the office to find one of your partners and friends on the floor would be alarming, if this weren’t Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, and the person on the floor weren’t Dirk, or he were in a more curled up position if it were still him. Dirk’s reactions to bad stimuli and pain, like his sense of style and his bounciness and anything good about him really, are hard-earned and curated, so he’s entitled to letting them run their course, so if he’s in physical pain Todd will get to know. They’ve had that worked out pretty early into their professional dealings. Dirk likes to have conversations, unless he doesn’t.

Todd has always thought Dirk is a straightforward person once one knows him. People never share his opinion on this, which is weirder than weird, because c’mon: it’s gonna take a lot of actual trying to outdo Todd when it comes to being terrible at people.

Anyway ; Dirk laying on the floor: not weird. Has happened before, in fact.

Todd checked the ceiling with a glance just to make sure nothing was tacked on there again (the ceiling was the usual blank cream), and then went to throw his laptop bag onto the couch. “We haven’t swept the floor in, uh, a week,” he said, just to throw it out there.

Dirk caught it. “Jackets can be dry cleaned.”

That was more curt than Todd’s used to.

He came to stand next to Dirk’s arm on the floor. “Sure, you do whatever with your clothes, but we should sweep the floor at least. It’s the,” he checked his phone, “17th.”

Dirk looked up at him with bleary eyes.

Todd sighed. “Look, I’m not— I couldn’t care less about dusty carpet, I’m not gonna lie to you, but I don’t wanna disappoint Farah. She’s gonna be tired when she comes back, and if we wanna make our celebration seems genuine we’re gonna have to take care of the minute details too.”

“Like dusty carpets,” Dirk mumbled.

“Yeah,” Todd confirmed, crossing his arms in a valiant effort to mimic even a corner of Farah’s authority.

They stared at each other for a moment, before Dirk looked away and muttered, “Day’s still long.”

Todd sat down on the floor. He made a face as he lifted the hand he used to support himself on the way down. “Wow— okay, it’s dustier than I thought. It’s like— did we even sweep up after the Buzzer? We didn’t. Of course we forgot. Yeah, so… that’s not just seven days of normal dust—”

“Please just… give me a minute,” Dirk cut him off, with a noticeable effort to be louder this time, and Todd took a deep breath and looked at him, carefully. His limbs were spread out and stiff, like a straw figure’s. His jacket was slightly damp, and his tie seemed to have flopped into its current, crumpled position when he laid down. He didn’t even move his head when he talked to Todd just then.

Todd laid down next to Dirk.

They stayed like that for a minute, then Dirk asked, “Why are you on the floor?”

“I’m giving you a minute,” Todd mumbled. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Feels like the right amount of impact on my senses,” Dirk replied. “Last time this happened I also laid on the floor, and afterwards the stupid thoughts went away, so I elected to repeat the conditions this time around. Science.”

That didn’t sound entirely right, but Todd dropped out of college to play guitar for an alt band, so. “What’s the thoughts?”

“Alright, on review, calling them ‘thoughts’ isn’t very correct, or useful to the conversation. They’re more… feelings. Multiple, numerous, of unidentified frequency, and not lending well to words and sentences.”

“Okay,” Todd said, “that’s definitely a not-truth at some level.”

Dirk blew a frustrated breath. “Can’t we let it be? I’m laying on the floor staring at the ceiling. This solution has no hole. The thoughts will go away in a few minutes.”

Todd let the silence drop for a few seconds there, and then said, as calmly as he could ever be, “But they came back though.”

They laid there on the ground for another minute as the silence covered them; Todd glued his eyes to the cream ceiling, resolute to not look at Dirk. He could feel Dirk move his arm, and the deep breaths Dirk took. He focused on regulating his own breathing as well; he tends to forget to inhale around Dirk.

“I don’t feel like a man today,” Dirk said, after the silence was thick enough they could float up to its surface.

Todd didn’t expect that; he whipped his head over to look at Dirk. Dirk had an arm over his eyes, but the rest of him was maybe even more still than before he spoke. He was expecting a reaction of some kind to his statement, which— okay, that’s how conversations happen, you say something and the other person reacts and you react to that. ‘Twas just that Dirk seemed to be gearing himself up to something negative, which Todd… didn’t know where to land himself with. He wasn’t sure if Dirk knew either.

One of the conversations Dirk wasn’t thrilled about, then.

Todd decided to start slow. “Okay, is that a… gender statement, a mood statement, or…?”

“Mostly gender,” Dirk said immediately, as if he feared Todd would retract the buoy if he didn’t latch onto it fast enough. “I just… sometimes I will feel intensely not like a man. Not in the way that means I’m inadequate to be one, just that I’m not one? It is usually less intense than that, I can just ignore it, but every once in a while it will morph into almost an urge to… rewrite myself. To reshape everyone’s perception of me. Even if it means…”

Todd cleared his throat when Dirk trailed off and didn’t seem to know how to pick the thread up again. “What’s it mean?”

“I... “ Dirk swallowed. “Even if it means I’m not human.”

Todd took a few seconds to process that. Once it was halfway swallowed and he had about two fingers of his brain under his control again, he pushed himself up into a sitting position to stare at Dirk.

“Okay, that’s— I’m not--” He gestured like a halfway stringed marionette, and then dropped his arm uselessly down to his side when that didn’t clear anything up. “Can you— just. Walk me through it.”

Dirk removed the arm he had on his eyes to squint at him.

Todd brought both of his hands up again. “Dirk, you— that’s the least weird thing about you. Or anything. I can say that because this past year has been weird as all fuck, and I can say that because the thirty-two years before it were the exact opposite. Literally after all the shit that happened to us, that’s nothing. Well it’s not, it’s— it’s important to you, so it’s important to me too, and knowing it will change things, I’m sorry I said it’s nothing, it’s that it’s— not weird. ‘S just not.”

“I’m a tiny bit hurt, thank you, apology accepted,” Dirk said, and his eyes were tracking Todd’s motions now, okay, “and that’s not. Well, it is a part of the point, but also I’m… not normal, am I.”

“Uh,” Todd said.

“On many levels. Most people don’t experience the things I do, and really, I haven’t met another person of my same profession. Which is because it is a unique position required by the Universe so as It could move Its pieces around, which I am fine with, I could get used to the excitement, but something… Maybe.” Dirk swallowed. “Can it be too much?”

“I don’t— I don’t get it.”

“I’m tailored to a purpose,” Dirk said, and once again he was staring at the ceiling. “A lot of the things I feel are already pumped into me by that. At some point it will dictate whether something about me is necessary or not, and I just… I’m not sure where that point is.”

Todd could only do more staring while Dirk barreled on with his thoughts to where they were supposed to end up.

“Maybe it’s already crossed that point,” Dirk said. “Maybe I’m just a tool to be used.”

“That’s the Blackwing speaking,” Todd said, a bit too hastily, but he felt he needed to. Dirk just exhaled wearily.

“I know. But they haven’t been wrong about everything…”

“Dirk,” Todd said, more firmly this time. Dirk looked at him. “They don’t even understand how your thing works. They’re terrible at what they do. You don’t— you’ve lived that firsthand, I don’t even have to tell you all this.”

It was his turn to take a deep breath now, as he looked at Dirk and Dirk looked back.

“You showed me weird,” he continued. “The world is fucking weird. Time travel is real, soul is extractable, there’s an eighty-year-old child making whole dimensions with a wave of his hand, my sister’s a witch travelling with energy vampires, I’m sitting here on this dusty as fuck floor talking to you. A year ago I couldn’t even imagine doing that for anyone other than Amanda. We became friends, Dirk. All of that happened.”

He grabbed Dirk’s hand.

“You’re human. You’re both human and not-a-man, that’s about par-for-the-course with how weird this shit all is. Honestly, even a bit subpar.”

“I cannot be spectacularly explosive and entertaining in all areas,” Dirk said. There was a wobbly smile on his lips. Todd let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. “There has to be some specialization happening somewhere.”

He sat up, a bit shaky, and Todd tugged on his hand. He initiated the hug. Todd couldn’t say he didn’t lean into it; things had been tense for a moment.

“Thanks for coming out to me, by the way,” he said, just to not be an asshole. “It’s really good to know.”

“It’s about time for it to happen,” Dirk shrugged into the hug. “It’s been one year already.”

Todd smiled. “Happy one year of doing this, huh.”

“Happy one year of doing this.”

“We should sweep the floor”.

#Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency #dghda #dirk gently #todd brotzman #fanfiction #hey its the nonbinary dirk fic I posted the AO3 post for yesterday #gen. again because of who I am as a person.#I could write romance but judging by how that' went in the past Ive elected to spare the boys #trust me. read blossom hills.#anyways coming out; communication; sitting on the floor; all the stuff I hold near and dear to me #its loving your friend hour everyone #now I have to do french homework for the brother #have a good one stay tuned for other things coming in a day or two

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mythicallore · 6 years ago

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The Berini Haunting

The poltergeist experiences, later named The Berini Hauntings by paranormal researchers, started shortly after Joe Berini moved his wife and two of her children from a former marriage into his ancestral New England home in the late 1970s. Unbeknownst to the family then, the home had its own history of mystery, which would unfold, benignly at first, then into horrifying experiences that would drive them from their home in search of help.

Their first otherworldly visitor was a little girl whose voice penetrated this dimension one evening in May, 1979, and declared to Rose, “Mama, mama, this is Serena.” Neither Joe nor Rose knew of any girl in the family’s past by the name of Serena—at least then. What they did come to know soon enough was that when Serena visited them, something significant was about to happen to the family, usually of dire consequences. After Serena’s first visit, their daughter Daisy went to the doctors to have her tonsils taken out, except during the operation there were complications, which resulted in her heart stopping, and she nearly perished. The timing of Serena’s visit and Daisy’s near death experience did not go unnoticed by the Berinis.

Serena’s visit to the family also coincided with the stroke of Joe’s grandmother and a night in November before the elderly woman passed away. Her connection to the family seemed strong as Joe remembers waking up to Serena’s voice to find his wife choking next to him in her sleep. After shaking her awake, she shares with him that her ex-husband was choking her in her dream.

Children seemed to be the theme early on in the Berini hauntings and though there was a lull from late 1979 to March 1981, another child made an appearance to Rose. A little boy, dressed fully in white, was roaming her upstairs hall. Like Serena, these were not frightening experiences and she described them to researchers as, “A very peaceful experience.” Unlike Serena whose mission seems to have been to warn the family of danger, this young boy seemed to be searching for an object. The boy, witnessed by Joe, was seen entering each bedroom then settled on the floor of the hallway in search of something, sight unseen. Curious, Joe later pulled up the floorboards and found a medallion of the Virgin Mary.

Through family inquiry, the Berini family learned that Joe’s father, Carlos, had two younger siblings that had died in the house. There was Serena, who had passed away at the tender age of five, and a young boy by the name of Giorgio, who was gone at eight.

What I find interesting here is that there wasn’t a family investigation into these tragedies. One child is tragic, but two is suspicious. The fact that both chose to haunt the ancestral home is very unusual. Had these children been killed? And if so, by whom? Ịt was unlikely the older brother could have done it because he was relatively young himself. The father? Joe heard the little boy say to him on one occasion, “My oldest brother is the only one who can help me.” What did he mean? Help him from what? That very sentence was the beginning of the terror. It was shortly thereafter this statement that objects started to move in unpredictable fashion with phones flying, doors slamming open and shut and objects being yanked from Rose’s hands.

This turn of events led the Berinis in search of spiritual help. They asked two priests to come and bless the house, which they did with prayers and holy oil. There was a quiet spell after the rituals but it wasn’t for long.

The entity that descended upon them shortly after seemed straight from hell, though it once proclaimed itself “A minister of God.” It was a male, hunch-backed figure with oversized feet wearing a black cape. It brought with him fury and intimidation including flying objects, bookcases being moved, and eventually physical attacks. The children were hit on several occasions but Rose took the brunt of the figure’s venom. On one occasion Rose was struck by an opened freezer door but this was mild compared to what was to come.

One evening Rose was yanked from bed at night, suspended in the air, then dropped to the floor. Another night Joe was called back from work to find their bed leaping several feet in the air and Rose cowering in the corner with a crucifix.

The final straw was a carving knife jammed into the kitchen table. The Berinis left the house and again sought spiritual help. The second exorcism seemed to work as the hauntings vanished. It was at this point the family welcomed the Psychical Research Foundation to investigate their claims.

Personal Comment: Through my research of the paranormal, and as I mentioned earlier, it is unusual for a child to haunt a dwelling, let alone two. What causes hauntings is often an attachment to the physical, sudden departure from this life or unfinished business. Something pulled these children back to the physical dimension and also opened the door to the negative entity. From the sounds of it, the grandfather (the children’s father) had already passed. Was he the cloaked figure?

Like most hauntings I guess this haunting will remain a mystery.

#paranormal #supernatural #ghost

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kimberlycook95 · 4 years ago

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Save Marriage After Affair Quotes Super Genius Diy Ideas

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How Can Married Couples Avoid Divorce

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Can Marriage Counseling Save Marriage

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#Save Marriage After Affair Quotes Super Genius Diy Ideas #What Can Be Done To Prevent Divorce

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prixmiumarchive · 7 years ago

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Before We Go [A Crisis on Earth X Fix-Fic]

Summary | Foreword:

In 2017, Barry Allen and Iris West attempted to get married to far too many interruptions. One of those interruptions was controversial, loved by some and despised by others, apparently including at least one of the lead writers for the show which chronicles the lives of Barry Allen and Iris West(-Allen). In order for Felicity Smoak and Oliver Queen to marry at last, also after too many attempts, an executive decision was made that the former's quirkiness and tendency to put her foot in her mouth be turned up to 11 and in full effect. This hurt fans, Iris West, and, in this author's opinion, some credibility among those called the Powers That Be. This documents an exactly 37% canon divergence which attempts to reconcile some irreconcilable discomfort in the fandom. It is for fans of both couples. It is for fans of canon-only-with-couples-tacked-on. It is for multishippers. It is also for those who, as in the immortal words of the 2004 film Mean Girls, wish we could all get along like we used to in middle school and bake a (wedding) cake filled with rainbows and smiles and that everyone would eat it and be happy.

On AO3.

Tags on AO3: Episode Novelization Excerpt, Fix-It, Marriage, Weddings, Episode Fix-it, Episode Tag, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Dialogue, Fix-It Dialogue, Consent, Explicit Consent, Meta

Ships: WestAllen and Olicity

Resources: This is the original scene, which I used, transcribed, and altered: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1wQuddq7zt0

This is someone's sound extract of the background/music track of the scene so you can, if you wish, read this fic with it in the background to see if it works for you: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rm6qnvV3egE And a listenonrepeat link of the same: https://listenonrepeat.com/?v=rm6qnvV3egE#Crisis_on_Earth_X_Soundtrack%3A_Double_Wedding_(LOT_3x08)

I hope you enjoy my little project. It's much too meta and whatever, but I did it for me and hope it does something for you.

Long author’s note, then fic below the read-more or on AO3 linked above.

Note 1: This is an honest attempt to offer a possible solution to some really unfortunate writing in a scene that I want to like and mostly-do but which I know causes a lot of discomfort for a lot of people. If you hate one pairing or the other or have come here to see Olicity (or WestAllen) called out or pedestalized beyond their station, this fic is not for you. This fic is for those who almost like the way things are but would like for there to have been a bit more tact. This fic is a peace offering. This fic is something I wrote to give myself catharsis and a writing challenge on a Saturday afternoon because I felt that I owed it to people.

Disclaimer A/A personal statement: I am not in the Olicity Fandom. I am not in the WestAllen Fandom. I am in the DCTV fandom. If I ever was in one of these capital-F fandoms, I would have come closer to being in the WestAllen Fandom, back during S1, but I only just recently got back into the DCTV universe. I'm happy, and I hate seeing so many people unhappy and feeling put off. This is meant to be something good that, if it fosters anything, will foster good-will. Because of that, hateful or heavily-biased in a negative way comments will be ignored/deleted/their posters blocked depending on the place where they are posted. If you want to engage in thoughtful, articulate meta discussion that is critical of my take on this, feel free to message me separately or elsewhere, but in this particular thread/place/time I am not going to let that be the most-vocal takeaway from it, and I hope you will respect the spirit with which it is written and my authorial wishes. Thanks!

Disclaimer B: It goes without saying on all my fics, but this fic has a lot of canon dialogue in it, and I mostly tried to avoid excessive editorializing on the things I was just literally going through a clip and transcribing. This fic is mostly from an almost-objective third person POV as a result, because I'm trying to be as respectful to the source material as I think it deserves while "fixing" it to my better-liking.

Note 2: I did do my level best to give Iris the space to feel something about her day not going at all according to plan. I also tried to make it so Felicity could actually confirm some kind of peace with this. I let her ramble, and I tried to make her apologetic enough, but I'm not about to put her on the chopping block after what she went through as a Jewish woman facing a horde of alternate-Earth Nazis including a terrible, nightmare version of her now-husband. I am all about lady positivity, and I hate that strange (and arguably really bad for a moment there) writing threatens them remaining friends, and that was a big part of my motivation too.

“Well, if you want it to be personal, I think we know a guy who's ordained,” Felicity said, looking up for Oliver and some expression of recognition. He gave her one and swallowed an unspoken word.

In the space of less than a second, Barry thought it over and agreed. He was in Star City and back again in the space of a breath or two, hardly a wrinkle in his or in John Diggle's clothes.

John took stock of his surroundings and tried to steady his irregular breathing. He smiled a brave smile and lifted his hand in an already placating gesture. He thought he had this.

“It's a good thing I didn't vomit, right?” he asked, looking into Barry and Iris's faces. The former looked skeptical, on the verge of a wince, while the latter looked equal parts surprised, glowing, happy. He really didn't want to do this, but the moment he thought he had it, he managed to turn away and retch onto the ground. He could feel the collective discomfort and sensed his friends' efforts to close their eyes, to turn away.

“Are you okay?” Felicity asked in a strained, dutiful tone that was a little louder than necessary from the force behind it.

John scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to recover his center – both his dignity and his equilibrium. He turned to Barry and pointed at him, giving a mild order but not before he pressed a loose fist to his mouth and made absolutely certain that nothing else but words wanted to come up.

“A little warning, next time?”

“Sorry,” Barry said, a little contrite and flat. Iris gave him a look of blended sympathy and disgust.

“What's up?” John managed to ask, glancing between all four of his friends.

“You got ordained to marry your brother and Carly, right?” Felicity asked, still tucked tightly against Oliver's side.

“Yeah,” John rasped out.

“We were... hoping that you could give us the same treatment,” Iris interjected, a little strain in her lips and mouth as if she were nervous to ask or to have it answered.

John looked at Iris, then at Barry, and Iris again. He hadn't had much time to process, but he quickly got up to speed.

“Wow, really? I'm honored,” he replied.

“Yeah?” Barry asked.

“I am,” John insisted.

Iris smiled without any attempt to hide it while Barry glanced away, a little bashful and a little smug at once, pressing his lips together as they tried to form a smile, too. He stopped fighting it when his eyes got to Iris. His hand moved along her shoulder and he met her eyes. They shared a kind of silent agreement and confirmation.

“Alright, well let's... do it,” Barry said.

“Okay, that's great,” John said, sincerely before launching into a very quick logistical assessment. “Uhm...” he said, turning to Oliver and Felicity, “I guess that makes you the best man,” he decided, pointing and Oliver before shifting the gesture to Felicity with a nod, “you the maid-of-honor.”

Felicity gave an audible, excited gasp. At the same time, Oliver gently started to lower his hand from Felicity's back and to square his posture.

“Honored is correct,” Oliver said with a little lowering of his head.

Felicity's hand rested over her heart for a moment. Then, she brought both hands together and bowed to Iris a little before laughing with her and bounding to her with open arms.

Meanwhile, John gestured to bring both his arms to cross briefly in front of him.

“Alright, let's get into position,” he said. “You're here,” he told Barry, then he pointed to each respective position for Oliver, Felicity, and Iris, “and there and there.”

Barry looked at Iris across from himself and added, dryly: “Oh, I see.”

Iris laughed at her husband-to-be, visibly overjoyed.

“You guys write vows or you just want the boilerplate?” John asked.

“Oh!” Iris exclaimed softly, reaching into her pocket to retrieve the little slip of paper that had already been through so much. “Yes, I, um, wrote mine,” she said as she unfolded them.

“Um, I tried to write mine, uhm...” Barry said, glancing at Oliver for remembered commiseration's sake before snapping his attention back to Iris, “but then I realized that I didn't need to.”

Iris gave him a little look of concern, but there was no fear there at all.

“Uhm,” Barry said again, gathering his nerve and thoughts together, “my entire life has been marked by two things. The first one is change. From when I was a kid to when I was an adult, things were always changing, but no matter how different things became or what new challenges I had to face, I always had the other thing that my life was marked by. And that's you. You've always been there. As a friend, as a partner, as the love of my life. You're my home, Iris. And that's one thing that will never change.”

Iris smiled and pressed her lips together, emotion lifting her to the tips of her toes as she seemed to hold back happy tears, lowering herself back down flat onto her feet.

“That was really nice,” she said with composure and then a soft laugh. She was grinning at him.

Beyond them, Felicity glanced from Iris up to Oliver. He glanced up at her from attentive listening, but by the time he had, she had already returned her gaze to Iris.

“Uhm,” Iris prefaced her vows, gathering her voice and mirroring Barry, “when I was nine years old, I wanted to be a ballerina, remember?” she asked, pausing for Barry to nod while he watched her eyes. “And though I was not a very good dancer,” Iris said, momentarily turning to look at Felicity and Oliver to draw them into the wry truth of it. She licked her lips before she continued speaking. “And the day of the recital, I froze.” She shook her head a little. “I couldn't move,” she said, looking into Barry's face. “And I wanted to die,” she said, aside in Felicity's direction for just a second. She anchored her gaze on Barry. “And then, I looked in the audience, and I saw you. And you got up and you climbed onto stage and you did that whole routine with me,” she said, smiling and shaking her head at once. “And we killed it!” she insisted, drawing soft laughter from everyone around her. “I mean, we brought the house down.” She glanced down briefly. “And from that moment I knew that with you by my side, anything was possible. The Flash may be the city's hero, but you, Barry Allen, you're my hero. And I am... happy,” she announced, pausing with another soft bounce to her tiptoes as she restrained her urge to cry, “excited, and honored to be your wife.”

John paused for a moment to let Iris's words hold their own weight.

“Wonderful,” he added after a few, reverent seconds. “Well, then I pronounce you both – Bartholomew Henry Allen,” he said, carefully making sure not to fumble his unfamiliar, full name. Barry hummed an affirmation that he had gotten it right as he continued, “and Iris Ann West – husband and wife. Barry – please – kiss your bride.”

There, in that park, before the water, three of their friends, and an inopportune puddle of sick that made neither of them want this any less, Barry Allen took her hands and drew her in. He kissed Iris West-Allen – officially – for the first time.

Iris squeezed Barry's hands and tiptoed to lean into the kiss which she returned wholeheartedly, finally married after another, different kind of near-end-of-the-world which might have been more jarring than some of the rest. He was still here; she was still here; and he was still her hero.

When they broke apart, both smiling until it might have ached for them or in the chests of anyone watching, John lifted his hands in another gesture to conclude the ceremony and break into less formal congratulations and proceedings. John opened his mouth, but the sound never made it out because of a sudden, startling interjection.

“Wait,” Felicity interjected, desperately. “Wait, wait,” she pleaded. “Just one second. Um, if you guys don't mind,” she said, quickly indicating Barry and Iris.

Iris squeezed Barry's hand she still held tighter, startled but turning to Felicity, too.

“Or, I mean, if you don't mind,” Felicity said, gesturing and leaning toward Oliver just a little. “Really, if you don't mind,” she said, in a blanket way.

Iris glanced from Felicity's face up at Oliver's for a second, following whatever was happening and quickly seeing the shape of it.

“But, before we go, would you marry us, too?” Felicity asked John, wheeling her gaze back around to Oliver almost frenetically. Then, almost as an afterthought, she looked at Oliver. “Will you marry me?”

“I thought... I mean, I thought you didn't believe in marriage,” Oliver said in an even tone, neither hoping nor drawing back from it.

“No,” Felicity agreed mildly, “but I believe in you,” she said, hands pressed tightly together in low, restrained supplication. “And I believe that no matter what life throws at us, our love can conquer it, married or unmarried. I love you. My greatest fear – my greatest fear in life is losing you—”

“Yes,” Oliver said, without hesitation when he decided to speak.

“Okay,” Felicity accepted quickly.

“Yeah?” Felicity asked at the same time Oliver smiled and simply said: “Yeah.”

“I do,” Oliver said as he reached for her hand. And again: “I do,” when he took it.

Barry grinned tightly, perhaps proud that his earlier advice and faith had finally paid off. That he had been right, even in the face of an all-knowing mentor who had known, in a very dark hour and before, that he would never have the same kind of happiness, strength, and security that Barry could feel settling over his shoulders, tearing away other weight with it.

Iris's face went through several emotions. First, she was confused and a little anxious. Her wedding had been interrupted once, but now it was done and all that remained was to walk away a married woman. She watched Felicity, perplexed as she often was with her, but then she saw Oliver's reaction and couldn't help smiling at him. Once upon a time, he had been a handsome stranger that Barry had inexplicably known. Now, he was a man that looked very anxious and relieved at once to finally be with the woman he loved. And today, after everything, it made her smile at him, too.

“Uh, John... what do you... what do you say?” Oliver asked, no longer the picture of decisive and calm leader that he had needed to be for so many hours now.

“Wait—” Felicity said, holding up her finger to indicate her need of another moment.

Oliver frowned, possibly terrified, but he looked back down at her.

“Wait, it's okay, I promise, but,” she said quickly. Then she looked at Iris, taking her free hand and reaching up for her arm, below her shoulder. “There's a certain order this usually goes in. And I never really paid attention, because I was never the kind of girl who fantasized about this happening to me. But... I know this is sudden, and I know... none of this went how anyone planned, but... Iris, will you be my maid-of-honor, too?”

Iris watched Felicity and squinted. It was all so-fast, and with her husband she knew fast.

“I—” she started to say, but she hesitated.

Felicity looked more and more like a deer caught in headlights.

“I just... really wanted this to be okay. All of this,” Felicity explained. “And the world being invaded by Nazis – more than it already is – was too-much for everyone. I just know that... I've spent all this time now... waiting and hoping that it wasn't too late for me to undo what I did. Hoping that the last thing I said to the man I love wasn't to break his heart because of stupid, selfish fear. And you helped me see that. I... I would be honored if you would witness my wedding, just as I was honored to witness yours.” She reached up and hesitated, glancing at Barry as if for permission. Then, without waiting much, she just barely thumbed against the apple of Iris's cheek for a split second. “Like your dad said... at that beautiful rehearsal dinner where I... also lacked the necessary volume control for... anything—” she added, with a guilty glance toward but not quite to Oliver, “your love is... inspirational. In a way mine might not be, but—”

“Felicity,” Iris interjected. She was almost convinced about halfway into Felicity's talking, but seeing her nerves and hearing her reasons and just wanting her to breathe, she settled herself in her conviction. Like Barry had said, everything in life changed – even the best of plans – and if this changed for them, maybe it would be for the better. That was what marriage was. It was something to fight for, and it was a promise of hope. “Yes. Yes, I'll be your maid-of-honor.” She grinned, more than she expected to. She took Felicity's hand and tugged her closer before almost as quickly letting go.

“Thank you,” Felicity breathed so earnestly that it sounded almost like her knees might buckle.

Oliver looked at Barry with only slightly inclined eyebrows.

Barry lifted his free hand, not yet thinking of letting go of Iris.

“Hey, it was my advice that put us here, wasn't it?” he responded to Oliver's look.

“Something like that,” Oliver agreed, a little wryly and with a returning smile that gained a little confidence.

“Now,” Felicity said after a moment. She swung her hand in Oliver's a little to draw his attention and nodded back to John. “Better,” she said.

“... So what do you say?” Oliver supplied, now that it was time, according to Felicity.

Arms folded across his chest, Diggle exhaled and was ready with his reply.

“Are you kidding me, Oliver? I'm the guy for the past six years that's been trying to keep you two together.

“It's true,” Oliver murmured toward Felicity, smile no longer fading at the first opportunity.

“It's only fitting that I marry you,” John said over some collective, nervous, knowing, and joyful laughter. “Okay,” he said with an instant of bowing his head, arms still crossed. “Vows?” he asked two of his oldest, best friends without clear expectation.

Oliver looked down into Felicity's face.

“No,” he said, without regret.

“No,” Felicity agreed, warm and steady.

“And we can't do better than them,” Oliver said decisively.

“Definitely not,” Felicity said. “We kind of did those fake vows when we had that fake wedding with that psychopath-serial-killer-archer-lady.”

“I remember saying something along the lines of... you're the very best part of me,” Oliver said, it becoming obvious that the memory or the thought hadn't been forgotten or dimmed at all.

Felicity smiled tightly, her lower lip lifting a little with suppressed emotion.

“Felicity, I'm a better human being just because I've loved you.”

Felicity lost her ability to repress her smile and grinned until her mouth opened in a sound that mimicked a quiet sob but which was its perfect, warm opposite.

“Well,” John said, “since we don't have any rings just yet,” he said, lacing his hands together, perhaps remembering that he hadn't recalled to ask if Barry and Iris had carried them through all of this, doubtful as it was. “I'll skip right to the part where I say this: Oliver Jonas Queen, Felicity Megan Smoak, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He paused for a long, long moment until he got Felicity and then Oliver to glance at him with sharp, nervous curiosity. “Oliver,” he said, “kiss your bride,” he said with a satisfied, accomplished smile.

Felicity leaned in and Oliver reached to cup her jaw on either side. He held her while they kissed, fear of losing each other again forgotten for a little while. They had won again; they had lived and found their way back to each other. And if they kissed long enough for Iris to grow impatient and pull her husband down into another kiss, it wasn't long enough until, at last, for John's sake, it was.

#crisis on earth x fic #dctv fic #westallen #olicity #dctv #this is tagged for both because it is positive toward both #if you don't like one or the other just kindly go on and realize this post isn't for you thanks #mine #myfic #tumblr fic #ao3 fic #Iris West #Iris West Allen #Barry Allen #Felicity Smoak #Oliver Queen #John Diggle

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fitzpatrick923 · 5 years ago

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#comforter #bedding

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5hfanfiction · 7 years ago

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Progression - Chapter 1

(Dinah’s older than Camila in this, but really, everyone’s ages are kind of screwed up.)

“Why are you making such a big deal about this? If we were in a dorm, we’d be rooming with random people. You know me, and you know Mani.” Dinah deadpans, nudging the front door all the way open with her foot.

Camila sighs deeply, setting an incorrectly marked box on the kitchen counter. “But we don’t know Lauren.”

“We’ll get to know her. Besides, if Mani says she’s good people, then I trust her, and so should you.” She sets the scissors next to the box and starts back through the door, calling out, “Now shut up for 5 minutes and help me.”

Camila frowns at Dinah’s blind faith in a girl she doesn’t know. Sure, Normani trusts her, and while she is a great judge of character, but she hasn’t seen her properly in over three years, and a lot can change in that time. Aside from that, Normani’s character doesn’t determine Lauren’s, since everyone knows, good people can have the worst friends. Yes, Dinah has a point that this is probably better than a random room assignment, but the fact that they signed a lease, a legally binding contract, and now all their money is tied up in this apartment for the next two years, is stressing her out. Damn Dinah and her overly convincing puppy-dog eyes.

The younger girl follows her friend outside to where the moving truck is parked, containing all four roommates combined belongings. “Get that side.” Dinah juts her chin out toward the opposite end of the couch she’s holding.

Camila obeys her friend’s orders and they lift it easily, even though Dinah would be fine on her own, but that would look suspect. The taller girl starts the trek upstairs, smiling in thanks at the young adult male holding the door for them.

“You two good?” He questions in a thick accent she can’t quite place.

“Yeah, we’re good. Thanks.” Camila interjects curtly, noticing the flirtatious look taking over her friend’s features. If she allows Dinah a word in, they could easily be standing there for an exceedingly long period of time for someone carrying an item of furniture that weighs four times what they do.

The boy just nods and exits once they’ve completely gone through the doorway. Dinah glares at Camila for sending away a potential mate, but says nothing. The Latina sighs thankfully, knowing she takes flirting very seriously, and was glad to have stomped it out before it could get started.

Over the years, Camila has seen a great deal of amorous exchanges involving her friend, and she completely understands why. Dinah is easily one of the most attractive people Camila knows. Granted, she doesn’t know very many people, but she counts people on the television, and shop customers as well. Physically, the older girl is pretty perfect; she’s tall, tan, and muscular, with insanely soft and thick hair that was usually some shade between brown and blond without really being either, and was “built like an acoustic guitar”, as Ariana had once put it. The statement had earned her a slap to the back of the head from one of Dinah’s large hands, her abnormally long fingers leaving red marks on the back of the petite girl’s neck for a solid 24 hours, an action the assailant soon regretted when the remark was explained.

The two make it up the stairs silently, efficiently, and slide the plush piece through the doorway. While Camila is content with leaving it in the previously designated area, Dinah suddenly finds a fault with it’s positioning, and keeps moving it in minute, nearly indistinguishable jerks in all directions.

“Dinah, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to center it. Don’t you think it looks weird?”

“No, because there’s only one place to put it,” Camila gestures around the now fully furnished living room, “and it looks fine.”

The older girl sucks her teeth and frowns at her friend. “If I wanted to live somewhere ‘fine’, I’d have stayed at home. I want my apartment to be poppin’.”

“Dinah, we’re college students now. Like, 95% of our income goes to bills and food. We can’t afford to pop; we can’t even afford to sizzle.”

“So we’ll save up, and pool our money. Then we can buy furniture that doesn’t make me want to claw my eyes out from looking at it for longer than 5 seconds.”

“Well, you can spend all your disposable income on popping, and sizzling, and frying, or whatever, but don’t come to me when you’re hungry or need gas money.” Camila kicks off her shoes and places them on the mat beside the front door.

Dinah laughs lightly and follows suit. “You say that like you really think you wouldn’t give me anything I asked for.”

“I want us to do this right, Dinah. You’re 18 now, I’ll be 18 soon enough…Ally’s trusting us not to live at home this year, and I really don’t want to give her any reason to think we’re irresponsible.” She pauses for a moment. “More irresponsible. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

The taller of the two smiles gently and pulls her friend into a strong, but not crushing, hug. “Jesus, Chancho. I’m the legal adult here, remember?” While her tone is teasing, her hold is firm, because she knows everything about this situation is new and had been worrying Camila since the idea had first been proposed almost six months ago. “Everything will be fine. Ally already trusts you, even more than Zayn, and he co-owns her businesses. If anyone should be putting in extra effort, it’s me-which I will, promise-so don’t worry.”

They stand in motionless silence for a few minutes. “We’ve been in this apartment for 5 minutes, and it’s already made you all sappy and gross.” Camila mumbles tiredly into the Polynesian’s chest. Indisputably, Dinah give the best hugs in the entire universe; it has something to do with the perfectly balanced combination of her warmth, softness and comforting scent. Unfortunately, that precise mix is currently working to put her to sleep.

“You always gotta ruin the moment.” Dinah rolls her eyes and shoves Camila back, into the the blue and white striped fabric recliner Ally had given them. “I’m gonna start with the kitchen. Can you unpack the bathroom stuff?”

“Uh-huh.” Camila nods, but makes no effort to stand up. Her body suddenly feels too heavy to support itself, so she just tucks her legs underneath her body and lays her head on one of the arms. She nods off quickly to the sounds of Dinah moving around, occasionally making noises of agreement to whatever was being said until she was too far gone to reply.

“Did you pack the wire rack with the kitchen stuff?” Dinah calls out, waiting a bit for a response before moving towards the more open area of the apartment. “Walz?”

She smiles at the sight of her small friend curled up in the chair, sleeping peacefully. Although she could use the help, she goes back to unpacking without even attempting to wake her up. Aside from Camila’s deep breathing, and the more distant sounds of other inhabitants being alive, it’s pretty quiet; Dinah Jane Hansen cannot stand quiet. Long stretches of silence are uncomfortable to her, and it makes her feel too close to death, unless she’s trying to sleep, then anyone making any type of noise is at risk of literally being close to death. This was one of the many reasons Ally had moved them to separate rooms, multiple times. Camila enjoyed the environment Dinah despised, thrived in it, in fact. Her own love of loud music, television and people had always clashed with her friend’s dislike, a concern that was sat at the back of her mind when she’d realized, for the first time in over two years, they’d be sharing together again. As well as they get along, she doesn’t know if she can survive another second rooming with “Can you turn it down?”, and “D, I have a headache, please?”. It’s not her fault that Camila has sensitive ears.

Since she’s not a total asshole, and doesn’t want to risk waking Camila up, she works without music. This could also be explained by the fact it would be practically impossible to find the box with her headphones inside at this point in time. Naturally, her mind begins to wander, and she remembers Camila’s earlier concerns. For as far back as her memory goes, she’s lived with Ally, and, while she was more than ready to spread her metaphorical wings with little concern for how things would play out, the older woman had been hesitant to let her go. Eventually, they’d reached an agreement where Dinah could go if she could convince Camila to fill the final roommate position Normani and Lauren were looking for. This was difficult simply because Camila didn’t want to move out, and was, although she’d been accepted to the same college as Dinah, planning on going to a different university based solely on the location of the campus. In the end, it took a solid month of groveling and guilt-tripping before she agreed, and thus, papers were signed and money was put down, much to Ally’s displeasure. It was understandable for her to be so upset, as she’d literally raised Dinah, and made her dismay known by dramatically sulking around the house for nearly a month after they’d graduated. A small part of her wondered what her birth parents would say, how they would feel to see her graduating. Ally had refused to tell Dinah what had become of her biological family, aside from something about an “unfortunate accident”, claiming she would learn the full story when she was older. Of course she had a difficult time believing 32 people had all succumb to the same fate, but she was happy with the people she did consider family, and still held onto the belief that Ally would tell her one day.

Frowning, she took a deep breath to clear her head of the negative thoughts and stepped back from what she was doing. She looked around in mild surprise, unsure of when she’d packed away four full boxes worth of stuff, and checked the time.

7:08. It’s been a little over an hour since she started, and about another one to go before Normani and Lauren were scheduled to arrive. Peering over the back of the chair to make sure Camila’s not stirring, Dinah scrolls through her phone and starts playing a random playlist in her “Bops” folder, but still on a low volume, just in case.

Music really is a great way to pass the time, because just as she’s deciding if the top shelf should house mugs or plates, there’s a key turning in the lock.

“Hey, DJ.” Normani grins widely from the doorway, almost instantly being lifted into Dinah’s arms.

“Manz! I Haven’t seen you in-” Dinah quickly lowers her volume and friend, remembering the sleeping girl a few feet away, “forever.”

“What’s wrong?” Normani asks confusedly at the sudden behavioral change. Dinah tilts her head in Camila’s direction as they separate. “And here I thought she’d be the one doing all the work while you were off somewhere drooling.”

“It’s not my fault Walz usually does everything. I’m not lazy, she’s an overachiever.” Dinah doesn’t even attempt to claim that she doesn’t drool, as Normani, Camila, and Ariana had all been too enthusiastic to show her the embarrassing proof in the past.

“How long did you try to wake her up for?”

“I didn’t. She’s taking a nap outside of the full moon or being sick for the first time in like six years; it’s better to just let her sleep.”

Normani nods, knowing Dinah speaks the truth. She’s never met anyone who hates being asleep more than the 17 year old in the recliner. Changing the subject, she raises a large brown paper bag Dinah had previously missed. “Anyways, I brought you guys something.”

“Food?” Dinah questions, although the answer is obvious, and snatches the bag from her hand. “You’re a lifesaver. I thought I was actually going to have to…you know.”

“You mean cook?” Dinah hates cooking as much as Camila hates sleeping, and Normani has trouble understanding either sentiment.

“Yeah, that.” Dinah takes a generous bite out of a random burger and turns towards the partially open door. “Where’s Lauren? I thought she was coming with you?”

“She was, but her parents wanted to have a family dinner tonight, so she transferred to an early morning flight.” Normani pulls the front door shut and locks it. She’s not risking someone just walking in and slaughtering them in their sleep. It won’t matter if Dinah and Camila are there if they get to her first.

“Don’t her parents live in Miami? That’s less than a three hour drive.” As she speaks, a chunky, liquefied mix of meat and bun spills down her chin, dyed yellow from the high ratio of mustard to pretty much everything else between the pieces of bread.

Normani hands Dinah a napkin, not particularly disgusted by the display, as she’d gotten used to her and Camila’s disastrous eating habits long ago. “It was at her uncle’s in Tennessee,” she stretches out on the couch and gestures to the three of them, “so it’ll just be us this evening.”

“If Mila even bothers to wake up.” Dinah replies before realizing something. “Hold up, who said you could sit down?”

“What?”

“Girl, get yo ass up and do something.”

“But Mila-”

“She’s allowed to sleep because she actually did some work before. Did you really believe you could bring us some food and we’d let you get away not doing anything?” The innocent look on Normani’s face says everything, and Dinah laughs loudly. “Hoe, you thought. Now go unpack the boxes for the bathroom.”

Normani sighs theatrically, but starts down the hall anyway, not wanting to feel Dinah’s wrath over something so insignificant, and also because she knows damn well it won’t get done otherwise.

They continue to talk back and forth for a while, calling out to each other across the apartment after they’d determined Camila probably wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

“D, what the hell are these?” Normani rounds the corner holding an cartoon rocket ship bath mat and Space Invaders shower curtain.

“Ally got those as part of our going away present, even though we’ve only gone like an hour and a half away.”

“Did you make sure to tell her you guys were starting college and not kindergarten? It looks like she’s a bit confused.” Secretly, Normani finds the gifts cute, because she’s gotten to know Ally thoroughly over the last four years, and it’s just like her to do something all sentimental like this.

“Walz didn’t want to hurt her feelings by not bringing them, and I don’t want to risk her just showing up and not seeing them in place, you know?” The soft tone in the younger girl’s voice contrasts starkly with the pained grimace on her face. It’s like she’s physically hurting from just being in the presence of the brightly colored accessories.

“That’s really sweet of you, to sacrifice your sanity out of love and fear.”

“Fear? What are you talking about? I’m not afraid of Ally.”

“That’s such a fucking lie and you know it.” Normani smiles knowingly at Dinah’s overly defensive stance: arms crossed, brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and annoyance, and legs shoulder width apart. “She’s your mom, you pretty much have to be scared of her.”

“Yeah, but I’m not. The only time I’ve only even mildly feared her was those couple of times when she got really mad at me, because believe you me, when the 'a’ in Ally stands for angry, you don’t want to be anywhere near her.”

“It’s hard to imagine Ally like that.” Normani sets the mat and curtain on one of the few boxes not yet pushed into it’s proper room yet; not that they even know what it is, since Lauren and Normani decided drunk and tipsy packing, respectively, would be a good idea.

“It’s good you only have to go based off imagination and not experience. Trust me, she’s like a little volcano.”

“What am I when I’m angry?”

“You’re like…a slowly melting block of ice.”

“I don’t-what?”

“You’re all cold towards whoever you’re mad at, and you don’t show it at first, but then you start getting all snippy and stay salty for as long as you’re pissed off. You aren’t an explosive person.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s true. And you’re not either, most of the time. Unless you feel really threatened, or somebody does something seriously messed up, you’re pretty calm.”

“Well, yeah. I don’t want people to know I’m angry with them, all the time, and get all suspicious. Why do you think I’m so good at pranks?”

“Because you lowkey want to be a bully, but you know Ally would have your ass, so you found a slightly less abrasive outlet.”

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to stop talking to Walz. Her and all her deep thinking is fucking you up.”

“Are you saying I’m not a deep thinker?”

“No, but you’re not like her, and believe me when I say that’s a good thing.”

There’s a slight pause before anyone speaks again. “What about Mila?”

“What about Mila?” Dinah reiterates, not understanding Normani’s question.

“If Ally’s a volcano-”

“Little volcano.” She can hear the smirk in her voice, even though she isn’t looking at her.

“-and I’m a block of ice, what’s Camila like when she’s mad?”

“Walz doesn’t get mad.”

“Dinah, you’ve known her since she was six.”

“I know that, but I’ve never seen her anything more than moderately annoyed, usually by me or Zayn.”

“I know Mila doesn’t have a bad temper, I mean she spends most of her time with you, we’d know at this point, but nothing?” The eldest resident sits on the arm of the recliner and looks down at it’s occupant, tone dripping with incredulity.

Dinah takes a moment to think before replying. “There was this one time I remember when she was really genuinely upset. We were like eight and three of my friends-you remember those annoying ass girls I told you I used to hang out with right before middle school?-came over to stay for April vacation. Walz had already been there for a couple of weeks, and I was sick before, so of course she got it, but Ally already agreed to watch those terrible children, so she put in place her standard quarantine procedures.” Dinah doesn’t elaborate, knowing Normani is fully aware of Ally’s behaviour when anyone in her household is ill. “It was like halfway through their stay and Ally was in the kitchen, when Walz comes downstairs for the first time in days, looking for her. We were in the living room, so we saw her first, and Sierra, of course, decided to cause a problem.”

“Sierra was the one with the parents that owned those condos, right?”

“That was Genevive. Sierra’s parents bought that amusement park that closed down like two years later.”

“How did you know these people?”

“Public school. Go figure.” Dinah purposely avoids answering Normani’s actual question in favor of finishing the memory. “Anyways, they were just talking all kinds of mess, and I just kinda stood there, because, you know, I was a stupid elementary schooler and these were my cool friends. Then Sierra went too far and threw Q outside into the downpour, Mila went after him, and they locked her out. Genevive and Evie went in the kitchen to make sure she didn’t try to come in through the front door, and I…” Dinah trails off for a moment, noticeably uncomfortable. “I pulled the blinds in the back so Ally wouldn’t see her, then we helped with lunch. By the time Ally found her, she’d already been outside for like three hours.”

Normani’s brow furrows, having heard other stories of how Dinah was kind of an asshole at that age, but that doesn’t make it any less upsetting. “Please tell me Mila came for you.”

“No, but Ally did after I told her what happened."

"You actually told Ally?” Normani asks skeptically. The Dinah she knows would do almost anything to stay out of trouble, or at least modify the truth enough to spare herself too severe of a punishment. Admitting to laughing with your 'friends’ being mean to your friend, then locking said friend outside in the rain with no plans of telling anyone isn’t exactly how one would prevent that.

“Believe it or not, eight year old Dinah Jane still felt guilt on occasion. I couldn’t not tell her, especially when we found out Walz had pneumonia. Ally blamed that on the rain, and even though the doctor said that’s not what caused it, I wasn’t going to try to use that to defend myself. Not the point, so Q was all muddy and gross, and Ally told Mila she was going to wash him, you know, the common sense thing to do, and she lost it. She started crying her eyes out and begging Ally not to, like she almost threw up from crying so hard. It was terrible. My friends were staring in surprise and disgust, and I was so embarrassed. Yes, I know, I was a terrible friend, stop looking at me like that. And Ally was completely freaking out because she’d never seen her like that, and she couldn’t figure out how to calm her down. So she just carried her upstairs.”

“Wow.” It’s a well known fact that Camila is a very emotional person, but Normani has never seen her cry, at least not the way Dinah was describing it. Sure, she’d seen her shed a couple tears at the sad scenes in movies, or from laughing way too hard, but nothing so emotional. “I don’t get it. Why was she crying?”

“I don’t know. We never asked her. I don’t even think she remembers it happening, so Ally decided to just blame it on her fever. You know how Ally likes to be prepared for everything, so that kind of fucked her up for a while. Really though, it was so…unexpected, and out of character. I mean, when I was teaching her how to ride a bike, she fell down the side of a rocky hill, into a stream, and didn’t make a sound. This was something else.”

“You guys had a real weird childhood.” Even though she already knows this.

“You tell me that anytime I tell you anything. And not really, yours was just super boring.”

Normani snorts. “No, my childhood was normal. Ally literally owns a magic shop. Where is the normality?”

“It’s normal to us.” Dinah says with an air of finality, not wanting to dwell on negative memories. “Now, go finish setting up the bathroom.”

“Dinah! Really? You’re gonna make me do more work? It’s nighttime.”

“Yes, now get up.”

“I’m tired."

"Mani.”

“No.” The darker girl whines, stretching out the word.

“I wasn’t giving you an option.” Dinah throws a pillow at Normani, her previously unmoving target effectively dodging the projectile, causing it to hit the sleeping girl in the face.

Camila groans quietly and shifts in her sleep, forcing her eyes open as she knocks the pillow onto the floor. “I…was asleep?”

“You were.” Dinah glares at Normani, more playful than serious.

“Mani?” Camila mumbles around a yawn, recognizing the familiar perfume coming off the figure above her. “I thought you weren’t getting here until tonight.”

The older girl grins down at her friend, and gestures towards the hall windows where the blinds are still open. “It is night, Mila.”

“It’s-wha?” She rubs her eyes, confused as to how it was pitch black out when the sun had been shining brightly just minutes before.

“It’s almost 9:30. You’ve been out for nearly 3 hours.” Dinah’s voice replies from behind her.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Camila speaks to Dinah, but extends her arms towards Normani, signaling she wants a hug.

“You were barely sitting down for 5 minutes before you fell asleep. If I woke you up, you’d just be cranky and do a shit job at unpacking.”

Normani slid down into Camila’s lap, wrapping the Cuban up in her arms. “Plus, you probably wouldn’t have woken up anyway. Dinah’s been playing music this entire time, stuff was being moved around, and we were literally talking right over you for the past 20 minutes.

"And, I made smoothies.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Dinah opens the fridge and pulls out three glass bottles, each containing a different colored puree. Honestly, she hadn’t even remembered she’d made them until now. “Try me again.”

“Shit.” Camila knows she can be a heavy sleeper, but their blender is basically a small glass lawnmower for food items. “Is one of those mine?”

“Of course that’s what you focus on.” Camila adjusts Normani in her lap, so she has a free hand to hold the bottle Dinah passes her.

“Thank you.” She takes a sip of the thick liquid, savoring the, overwhelmingly to every other living being, banana flavor and peanut butter aftertaste. “Have I ever told you that I love you more than most things?”

“Only every time I give you food.”

“Those are very good times.”

“Speaking of food,” Normani interjects, remembering something important. “Lauren wants to have lunch with you guys tomorrow, since she can’t make it here tonight.”

“Sure, I’m free between 12 and 2. I have to get to the bakery for 3:30.”

“I’ll be back by 12:30, since I’m opening tomorrow.”

“Lauren and I are both available then, so lets say, 12:45 at that Italian restaurant across from the town center.”

“The one with the yellow tomatoes in the salad and butter that kind of tastes like gravy?”

“That’s the one.”

“Now I’m hungry.” Normani hears Camila speak the complaint into her shoulder.

“You were hungry the moment you woke up.” Dinah hands her the not completely cold take out bag from the fridge. “Here. Normani brought burgers, so I saved you one and a half. There’s also most of a large fries-don’t you dare look at me like that. You’re lucky I didn’t eat all your fries.”

“You’re a literal angel.” Normani has no time to respond before Camila grabs her face and kisses her wetly on the cheek, then starts in on the stuffed half turkey burger.

“Anyway,” Normani starts, wiping the saliva off her face in disgust, “she’s really excited to meet you guys. I’m just kind of worried, you know?”

“Why?” The word vibrates her arm, which lays limp across Camila’s chest.

“It’s just, I’ve built you guys up so much, she’ll probably be disappointed when the real thing is right in front of her.”

There’s a loud clapping sound as Dinah’s hand connects with Normani’s back, nearly knocking her over. “Girl, you scared me for a second! I thought you were being serious.”

“You could be an actress. That was really convincing.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“I’m being serious. Plus, you’ve got the face for it: acting, modeling, all that picture stuff.” Camila’s voice is muffled as she holds the rest of her burger between her teeth, digging through the empty paper wrappers Dinah left in the bag in search of the spilled fries.

“Yeah, and besides, you’re a great actress, and dancer, and once people get a look at that face, they’ll be dying to plaster it up all over magazine covers, and billboards, and giant posters that’ll hang in horny teenager’s bedrooms.” Dinah admits honestly as she flops down on the couch.

“And park benches!” Camila adds excitedly, probably only really thinking of the park portion of the suggestion.

“Thanks, but I really don’t think I want anyone sitting on my face.”

“Yet another thing you and Walz don’t have in common.” As Dinah Jane is the biggest fan of her own jokes, she fails miserably at holding back the laugh that Normani lets out in full.

Camila waits for the giggles to subside before attempting to respond. “You say that like it’s not one of the greatest experiences ever, for all parties involved.”

“I am the sitter, not the on being sat upon, thank you very much. A face like this must be admired at all times, and that’s kind of hard to do when someone’s ass is all up in it.”

“DJ, the only thing to ever admire your face, aside from you, is your phone camera.”

“On a good day.” Camila holds up a couple of fries, silently offering them to Normani who declines, but reaches her hand into the bag in search on a moderately clean napkin to wipe the ketchup off the Cuban’s face.

“You’re both so damn rude, I swear. I can’t believe I agreed to live with you two. And I was so nice to you, Mani.”

“Right, because everyone wants to hear that they’re attractive enough to be masturbated to, or to be on a mossy, shit covered bench so people can sit on their face in the least sexual way.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so good.”

“Whatever. Can we watch a movie now, or something? Talking to you for longer than 10 minutes at a time is tiring.”

“I’m down, as long as it isn’t a horror movie, or a psychological thriller.” Camila tosses the balled up paper bag into the garbage by the couch, and grins at the offended look on Dinah’s face.

“Chancho, come cuddle.”

“What? You don’t want me?” Normani asks innocently, pouting playfully at the huffing Polynesian.

“No, you can stay right over there.” Dinah scoffs, then her voice returns to it’s previous demanding whine. “Walz, here. Now.”

“Sorry, Cheech. No Mani, no me.”

The two youngest stare at each other, both waiting for the other’s resolve to crack. Eventually, it’s Dinah who relents. “Fine, both of you get your traitorous asses over here.”

“We love you, Dinah Jane.” Normani announces in a sing-song voice, after her and Camila squish the still mainly unwilling addressee into a hug.

“Now you do. I’m picking the movie, and no arguments.” She yanks the remote out of Normani’s hand and snickers at the simultaneous groan from the bodies on either side of her.

They were midway through the first season of some weird British show Dinah had found when Normani attempted to make conversation again. Turning her head towards them to speak, she discovered they were both already asleep. This wasn’t surprising at all, but gave her the time to review their future living arrangements.

Lauren was a great person, even though highschool had been a kind of rocky time for her, and, well, she was a lot like Dinah in certain respects. She enjoyed having a good time, and whatever the definition of that may be at the time, partying till all hours of the night or playing charades in her pajamas, and didn’t let anything get in the way of that. Although their recent conversations had gone significantly better than the ones they’d had over the previous few years, she knew a couple of her highschool friends would also be attending, one of the reasons why she was so glad Lauren had reached out to her to share an apartment, since she wanted to keep her away from those people. Lauren’s parents, Mike and Clara, knew of her past troubles, and were more than ecstatic to hear she was talking with Normani again, who was easily their favorite of their daughter’s friends. It was more difficult to convince them about Dinah and Camila, particularly the latter, as they had been stalking Dinah’s social media since Normani had given them her name, and saw she appeared to be just a normal teenager. Everything she said about Camila, on the other hand, seemed to fuel their apprehension towards their eldest living with her. She didn’t know the answers to the questions they were asking, which made them suspicious, so much so, that Mike had offered to pay for the final forth of the rent if she could get Camila to find a way out of the lease. Now, unbeknownst to her roommates, her parents had taken it upon themselves to invite them all over for Christmas day dinner, after she’d mentioned that none of them had any big plans for the holiday season. She knew how protective Lauren’s parents had become, without being controlling, for the most part, and was slightly concerned with extending the invitation. It would look bad if they didn’t show up, like they were really hiding something, but there would be a lot of questions, probably bordering on the invasive side, and Camila didn’t enjoy talking about her personal life, very much unlike Dinah. She’d tried to say that they were unavailable on the day, but Clara pressed that they could both bring their families, which posed another problem. It was time to talk to Ally before she stuck her foot further in her mouth.

This is a thing now?

It’s also on Wattpad: RetreatingBackwards

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #angst drama #scifi supernatural fantasy #submission #Progression

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setsunatama3 · 5 years ago

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AN/ so if you read the announcement then you knew my sister was pregnant well there is excellent news my family is welcoming home a new baby boy. it put me in a rather good mood so here is a new chapter for you guys.I also hope that you all are doing well and staying safe during this covid-19 pandemic. don't forget to wash your hands and practice social distancing. Don't follow me on twitter for any updates. Also, I have put the poll on my twitter as well as my (p) atreon posing whether i should genderbend ren. now those of you who are like but ren is a man well i have this to Say I will develop some backstory on him and i figure why not add in a bit of og mulan to. like i intend to do for nora as well. And so vote would you kindly... don't forget to check me out on twitter at /setsunatama3 for any announcements from now on. notice I also post on the following sites Wattpad at 773701195-the-maelstrom-of-remnant-chapter-one-exile Archive of Our Own at /works/20596958?view_full_work=true deviant art at: setsunatama3/gallery fanfiction at: s/13280840/1/the-Maelstrom-of-remnant Tumblr at blog/setsunatama3 ficwad at /story/279918 due note that i post on my patreon first and they get early access to my work.

Chapter 22: bonds

When Cinder came to, she felt empty yet whole. Complete for the first time in years. Her eyes widened when a surge of power all her own. Had flowed in her veins. Yet it was not the distinct thrum of power that a maiden held. That was a sensation she knew intimately. It was unforgettable, even though she had only had half. Almost addicting in its allure. So subtle had she not given up the power, she shuddered at what it would have made her become.

While focusing on the new power she felt within herself. Cinder couldn’t help but wonder why it felt so familiar. Like a part of herself she had forgotten. Yet she knew it was a part of herself she would never have willingly forgotten about. Her familiarity with it was such that it was like it the last time she had used it was yesterday.

With just a thought, Cinder had brought the power flowing to the surface. She was so caught up in the experience. She jumped from shock when Naruto placed his hand on her bare shoulder.

“Don’t,” Naruto said, having sensed her power rising. Yet to his mild surprise it felt like chakra mix of and Aura at the same time. Just like the ANBU he had fought earlier. Yet he could tell it was so much more than that. And knew it bore investigation at a later time.

Blinking away her shock, Cinder wondered just how much time had passed. “Naruto, what time is it?”

“It’s eleven PM. while inside a mindscape time passes differently only about an hour has passed Cinder.” Naruto explained.

Cinder couldn’t help but let out a meek, “oh” in response.

“Lay down, I am going to form your seal.” Naruto informed her.

As cinder did as she was told. She couldn’t help but flush from embarrassment. Exposed and naked as the blonde focused on her form. It was as if he was looking through her very being and into her soul. Such was his concentration.

Even as his brush trailed up and down her body, Naruto never lost focus as he channeled his chakra into her. Cinder could feel his power flowing into her form with each stroke of his brush. It was an indescribable ecstasy.

While Naruto maintained his focus on forming and priming the seal with his chakra. Kurama fulfilled his own part. While communing with the other bijū along with Naruto and Sarada, they all channeled a small portion of chakra through Kurama. While he did the same shaping and moulding his chakra and the gifted portions melding them into one form.

With his task done, Kurama did not need to wait long. Naruto was done moments after him.

The two then worked in concert with one another. Their power reached its peak as Naruto burst into a golden cloak of fire like energy. His eyes shone a verdant red with concentric rings and nine tomoe. While a slit pupil rested in the center of each eye. And at his back were the famous nine truth-seeking orbs. Made of an obsidian black so dark they seemed to absorb light.

In the moments before his transformation, Cinder felt his power before she could see it. It was all-consuming power at the surface. Yet comforting and like a warm embrace in its totality. It was a terrifying juxtaposition.

Then the sealing script that covered her body from head to toe glowed a bright red as Naruto raised his hands palm up. Orbs of flame sparked to life in each hand. One an azure blue, the other a vibrant red. As he started the ritual that would change this world forever. With one goal in mind to give this world guardians that would rise. Should anything happen to him or Sarada.

As he brought his hands together he spoke aloud, “Banbutsu Sōzō no Jutsu,” when they met there was a flash of light and in place of the flame was a small black fox wreathed in blue flames with nine tails. About the size of a kitten.

The flames surged forth, consuming Cinder yet not burning her. but seeping into her form as warmth filled her chest. It was only when the diminutive fox kit lept from Naruto’s hands and onto her chest. Where it gazed directly into her eyes. She felt Naruto place his hands on her abdomen, four fingers on each side of the spiral seal on her navel.

Unable to move or react save for the widening of her eyes, it shocked Cinder. When the newborn Bijū kit spoke. In a deep voice. “So father she is to be my bonded partner?!” it was a statement filled with excitement and curiosity rather than a question.

“How odd, one in your situation would show a bit of fear under these circumstances. Are you not afraid of me, human.” the Bijū inquired.

The mere question filled Cinder with a sense of indignant ire.

With a widening of those animalistic eyes and a smile that showed rows of teeth. The kit barked with laughter. “Hahaha, I like you, human!” the kit exclaimed as its deep voice softened to a soft feminine lilt. Revealing it to be female.

Cinder’s eyes hardened, her ire rising. As the Bijū shook with laughter. Her resolve hardened into diamond. And the Bijū ceased its laughter, quirking a single brow. As if to say really now.

“Ah, now I see that is a fine resolve you have there. With a desire to protect those who you care for.while you have faltered on your path. Worry not with me on your side, you will never falter again. Together we shall embark on a path of discovery and truths.” the Bijū kit declared.

Her eyes widened as the fox was reading her like a book. And with that damnable grin, she spoke to Cinder. “Figured it out, have you? Yes, I Can read the minds of the weak willed and sense negative emotions. But in your case it is because of our forming a bond that your thoughts are so clear to me.”

As the script rapidly crept closer to the seal on her stomach, the fox kit spoke up one last time before Naruto finalized their bond. “However, we don’t have long before father ties your fate with my own. Remember, this father brought me into this world to be your guiding light. You will never be alone again.”

With those words, the flames disappeared. Soaked into Cinder’s flesh as the bijū’s tails merged into one tail tipped with an azure hue Almost fire like in its vibrant color. And Naruto placed one hand over the other, hovering over the spiral seal.

With a twist of his wrist he chanted, “Hakke no Fūin Shiki seal!” completing the culmination of his and his father’s work a new version of the Hakke no Fūin Shiki. It’s most important component is the ability for the Bijū to leave the seal without risk to the host. It was no longer a prison meant to contain Bijū. But a tool to help a bond form.

As Cinder stared down at the fox kit on top of her, a dozen emotions flashing through her mind. Her eyes widened once more. As thoughts that were not her own invaded her mind.

“So human now that we are bonded. I suppose I shall grant you the honor of bestowing. One as mighty as I with a name.” the newborn bijū communicated telepathically through their bond.

Naruto picked up the kit by the scruff of her neck and scolded her like the recalcitrant child she was acting. “Oi, stop that.”

Trying and failing to give her most innocent look. With puppy dog eyes included for added measure. But under the glare Naruto was giving his child, she soon folded. With a pouting and huffed out, “yes sir.”

It was at this point Cinder passed out, her last fading thoughts despite being garbled were heard loud and clear by her bonded partner.

It took her a moment to understand just what cinder said. while Naruto covered Cinder in her robe and took her back to her room. And it brought a grin to the kitsunes face. As she thought. “Oh, I think we will be the best of friends.”

]|[

As she was sitting down for dinner with her closest allies. While discussing the latest developments in the world. All felt a tremor of power in the room. It was small yet notable. Had Salem not given her most trusted followers her blessing. It was likely that even as attuned with the land as she was. Even she would have missed it. Had it not been for the constant draw yet small on their aura that her blessed gave in exchange for greater power and more abilities. It was this connection to her blessed, her pillars of power that allowed her to deepen her connection to the world itself.

It was this connection that allowed Salem to feel that it was a battle raging between two powers so close to vale. Yet the two were covered in shadows of interference produced by the stronger of the two. What made this even more galling was that she couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. The presence covered all of Vale in a shroud of power, blocking out her ability to tell precisely what was going on in the kingdom.

Such an occurrence had never happened before, ever. Not even when Oz was at his full power and she could feel him like a beacon. A brilliant flame she could practically see even from the depths of her prison. The power felt like an inescapable inferno that she could feel in her very bones. And seemed like she was standing next to it.

Then it just blinked out of existence like it was never there a scant ten minutes after it disappeared. Salem blinked blankly for a moment, then she scowled. Feeling this presence then losing it before she could even track it down was concerning.

Looking to her blessed, who were all collectively waiting for her opinion on the power they all felt.

Salem directed her attention to her most devoted. “My Slagter, where is Intrygant and Laruam?” she asked.

With golden eyes that spoke of only pain, madness, and a devotion to the woman he considered being his god. He gave Salem his answer. “I believe that they are in a village just outside of Vales borders, along with their knights. Lower Carn is what I believe they called it.”

“And just what are they doing so close to Vale?” quirking a brow out of curiosity, Salem asked. “And why was I not informed of their departure?” she added.

While she knew she did not need to control all of her blessed pillars actions and movement. Salem felt that, at the very least. They should have informed her when they left the castle. She knew they were just here a mere two days ago.

“Ah, that would be our fault my lady.” Salem's blessed pillar of knowledge answered. Adjusting his glasses, he continued his explanation. “Tisserande and I recently came across a breakthrough in our joint research project. And it has reached the stage where field testing was required. And they volunteered to monitor the testing. As they were free, and it was a last-minute request.”

Needless to say that Salem was surprised. The project the two had been working on for the better half of six years with no signs of success. Had finally bore positive results.

From what she knew of it, the project code named cursed mud. Was an attempt at a new breed of Grimm that could adapt rapidly to combat and by absorbing biomass. It could not only mimic beings and objects. But reproduce more of its kind.

It brought a small smile to her face. Seeing in how this oversight was not on their part but her own. Salem gave a nod of her head. “I see, well inform them that when the testing is over to return, and report the results to the collective. After that we will need to adjust our plans and find out just what the power we felt was.” she informed everyone.

As everyone went back to what they were doing before. Salem rested her head in her hand as she leaned back in her chair. Propping up the limb on the armrest. Pondering that surge of power. While knowing there was nothing that could be done at the moment.

It would not be until later that she would realise that the surge of power she felt. Would birth another great power from what seemed like the ether itself.

]|[

On board his flagship, the general walked down the halls to the labs of one of the pair of top scientists. His normally placid face bearing a frown. And a building headache. After he had read the report from the men, he had escorted Penny into town.

Somehow they allowed the girl to slip away. And yes, it brought a smile to his face when he thought of her that way. Despite the method of her “birth”. To him and so many others, she was just a girl. Not a machine. Penny was born into this world to bring hope.

Those were the thoughts that made him change how this conversation would go. As he swiped his access card and stepped into the lab. Where he was met by the chaos that was teenagers.

“Honestly just what were you thinking Penny?”

Sitting idly on a couch fiddling “Bah, quit being such a stick in the mud chase. Our girl here did a fucken bang-up job. If yah ask me. Right, Kazoo?”

Waving an errant hand, “well Cammie, it could have been worse. I think she did well under the circumstances.”' Kazu said, then went back to his guitar.

It was a pleasant change seeing the teens not even take notice of him. It was honestly a pleasant change of pace for James. Anywhere else, whenever the general entered a room. Every one focused their attention on him. Pandering to him, seeking any advantage they could get. It is why he hated politicians. And preferred the company of his men in the military.

But abruptly all conversation ended when winter noticed him. Saluting him with an exclamation of, “General Ironwood, sir!”

Everyone dropped what they were doing and gave a brief salute.

James gave them a small smirk as he said, “at ease.”

As he walked into the room, he directed his attention to Penny. “Penny, while I disapprove of your actions. Sneaking away from your escort was dangerous. I however realise that this was your first time away from Atlas. Places like Vale have dangers of their own. Please don’t let it happen again.”

Now thoroughly abashed and chastised by the disapproval of the General, Penny couldn’t help but let out a meek, “yes sir.” her gaze shifting to her feet.

The general then pulled his scroll out of his pocket. Pulling up the files he needed and had them displayed on the large screen in the room. “However, thanks to your actions, Penny. We have confirmation that the rumors of this Kitsune are true. And also, there are those of his kind that are opposing him.”

On the screen it displayed all the information on the ever elusive Kitsune and Ryu.

And below what information they knew about the pair was a detailed list of their suspected involvement.

From an analysis of a Warehouse fire, in which the Vale P.D. found the melted remains of Atlas military grade hardware. And human shaped scorch marks.

What seemed like a failed ambush by members of the White Fang in a book store turned into a bloodbath.

“The reason I have had you brought to Vale is because of Kitsune and Ryu.” the general explained. “Take this time to analyse the footage captured at the docks. Learn his fighting style and quirks.” James explained as he pocketed his scroll.

“Your goal is to if at all possible capture one of them. If not, then when contact is made, give them this encoded scroll. I know what I Am asking of you is a lot. But you are all the best of the best that Atlas has to offer. You are all specialists in the ace ops division.”

“Penny if you would follow me.” the general said as he turned to leave. Penny quickly followed him.

“All right everyone let's get to work,” Winter said as she took command and her squad studied. Everything they had on Kitsune.

It was not long before the ever curious penny noticed that they were headed to the hangar. “Sir, Why are we heading to the hanger.?” Penny asked Unable to hold back her building questions.

“We are heading there to meet your new teammates. They should arrive soon.” The general answered.

After they had made it to the hangar of the Prydwen. The two did not have to wait long as a manta airship landed in the hanger.

The general stepped forwards as the side doors on the craft opened. And three girls stepped out of the airship.

Stepping to the side to give Penny a clear view of her new team. The general introduced them.

“Penny, I would like you to meet your new teammates.”

As Ironwood introduced her teammates, Penny took note that all three of her new teammates were dressed in the atlas academy uniform. Comprising a white blazer, jacket and blouse. With a blue skirt.

“This is your team leader Rosaria Tempestade.” when the general introduced her leader to the girl. Her most noticeable feature, aside from her long white hair tied into a ponytail, was her heteroaromatic eyes. One blue, the other silver. She waved a hand in greeting.

“And these ladies are Violet Evergarden and Ciel Soleil.” James said as he introduced them to Penny.

“Salutations, I’m Penny!” she said, holding out her hand in introduction. “And I think we are going to be the best of friends.”

As she shook hands with each of them with a smile on her face.

]|[

When Cinder awoke, it was morning, and the sun was shining in through the window. Next to her was the small fox kit that had been born yesterday.

She turned her head to look towards the two other presences she sensed in the room. Naruto was resting in the chair next to the door and Emerald was in the bed next to hers.

She did not know whether it was the slight fluctuation in her aura when she woke up. Or something else. But the moment she sat up in bed, the kitsune next to her awoke as well.

And its voice reverberated through her head, “ah, human, you're awake.”

“It’s good that you recovered so soon, human.” the kitsune said.

Cinder gave the Biju one of her most withering glares. Her annoyance plain as day to see. Her ire only grew as a sense of growing amusement was transmitted. Through the bond the two shared.

“What do you not like being called human? It is what you are, after all, human.” the kit goaded.

“I have a name, use it!” Cinder hissed aloud.

“Ah, so you do human. But we have yet to be introduced. And what's worse is this noble one has yet to be gifted a name.” the Biju mocked. Taking on a haughty expression, her nose held high in the air.

It was that sudden revelation that made Cinder feel stupid. The only reason her bonded partner was acting the way she was. Was because she felt slighted that she had yet to be given a name.

Such a simple concept as a name was one of the few things a Biju guarded with zealous fervor. From what she knew of Naruto’s past. A name is one of the few things that was never and could never be taken from them.

There were so many choices to make. That for a moment Cinder was at a loss. At least until she remembered just what the being before her promised. To be a guiding light. The phrase sparked a memory.

Cinder and her mother were lying on the roof of their home observing the stars. Her mother pointed to the brightest northernmost star in the night sky. “Dear, do you know what star that is? She asked.”

The young girl shook her head. “No mama, what is it?”

With a small smile, her mother snuggled closer to her daughter. As she told her, “that is Polaris. It gets the name from being the star closest to the northern celestial pole. In the times before modern technology, we used it to aid in navigation. A guiding light if you will.”

A small smile graced Cinder's face as she decided.

“You said to me you would be a guiding light and you should have a name to reflect that.” Cinder said, picking up the kit and holding her in a gentle embrace.

“Polaris, that is your name. My guiding light.” she whispered, yet it might as well have been a shout to the now named Polaris.

Squirming in the embrace, Polaris wiggled free. Flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and joy, she fidgeted awkwardly for a moment. Before settling down and looking Cinder in the eyes. “I would like to introduce myself to you, my bonded. In a manner befitting the first-born Biju of this generation.”

With a nod and a small smile, Cinder gave her approval.

Straightening her posture, Polaris began her introduction as her tail split into nine once more. “I Am Polaris, first-born daughter of Kurama and Naruto, the nine tailed Biju and as such I Am the strongest of the nine.”

With a tender smile on her face, Cinder replies. “It is a pleasure to meet you Polaris, I am Cinder Fall. and I hope our bond will only continue to grow.”

It was a tender moment for the pair that ended all too soon when Naruto awoke. In truth, he had awoken when he felt their shared energies shift ever so slightly. But did not want to disturb the pair.

Naruto made a show of stretching out his limbs. To show he had just awoken. And with a grumbled, “morning” he left to get ready for the day. Leaving the pair to wake up Emerald.

It was not long after this that the ladies in his care. Followed the delightful smell of food as they headed into the kitchen.

To find three copies of the blond in his true form. No longer feeling the need to hide his appearance from them.

Emerald was immediately on guard the moment she made eye contact with the blonde. Immediately drawing her weapons, the Thief's Respite, “who are you?” she growled.

When she did not get an immediate answer from said blonde as he went back to work. She felt her next actions were appropriate. A crack of gunfire rent the air. As she shot him.

“Poof”

She blinked blankly at the spot where the blonde once stood in disbelief. Where the blonde had once stood was a quickly clearing cloud of smoke. No blonde to be seen at all.

The other two blondes came to the table, hands laden with food for the table.

It was not until the small fox that had been trailing Cinder spoke, “you know that was a rather rude thing to do to your host.” that Emerald felt like she was truly losing it.

“Em, I think you should take a seat.” Cinder said, directing her to a vacant seat at the table. And taking the one next to her. “We have a lot to discuss. And you need to be caught up on some things.”

All she could do was nod and take the offered seat.

Once Naruto had sat down, Polaris leapt into his lap, snuggling into her father’s embrace.

Upon seeing the sight, Cinder couldn’t help but let a grin grace her delicate features. As she thought to herself. “Daddy’s girl,” knowing that her bonded would hear it loud and clear.

Proven when Polaris gave her a withering glare from across the table.

It was amidst the silent air, filled with non-verbal communication and posturing. that Emerald finally lost her cool, “would somebody please just tell me what is going on!!? And who in the hell are YOU!” she blurted out.

With a grin, Cinder took a small bit of joy in the fact of being one of the few in the know. As she introduced the blonde. “This is Naruto Uzumaki, he is also our benefactor Kitsune.”

And to prove that fact, his eyes flashed that vivid purple. As Cinder added, “and there is much we have to discuss Em”

Rubbing the back of his head nervously, Naruto before they added, “ah, before we begin I Am a clone. So don’t pop me, the boss had other things to deal with.”

It was needless to say that the collective, “what!” did not surprise him.

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