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storiumemporium · 30 days ago

Text

Terminal

Chapter 3 - Past is Present

| Word Count: 17.1k | Bob Reynolds x Fem!Reader | Chapter Tags: Slight Cliffhanger, Mild Panic Attacks, Trauma Talk, Fluff, Disgusting Amounts Of Cute Shit, New Nicknames, that's all I can think of for now folks |

You've made your very first friend in the entire world, and what that entails. Progress on Enmis is made, but not in the ways you'd like.

WHEN I TELL YOU THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE BUT I'M SO HAPPY WITH IT, enjoy some very very cute shit between Bob and the reader 😌

You take a deep breath in, and stagnancy finds home in your lungs.

Dust, mildew. The air has crossed from humid to nearly wet even in the arid season. Tight clinging, almost physical in a way that made you anxious. That sensation of not being able to get enough, no matter how much you gulped down. It didn’t help that the four walls you sit in are as as small as your exposure to the world.

Around you, above you, a mountain of clothes and shoes. The constant stimuli of it against every inch of your body had once been deeply claustrophobic, to the point you’d cry out of frustration. Now it’s something of a comfort, insulated from anything that goes on beyond the door you face.

This peace, however, is interrupted by the culprit of the cling and the almost-stench that permeates from above. The house you live in - two story and hugging the water - is bordering on archaic, and at some point in the past year a leak had sprung. Festering, pouring through the bubbling plaster of the ceiling until being popped with a pair of scissors by your perpetually dour mother. The consequent drip was tolerated, a bucket placed beneath it to prevent further damage. But with the slow creeping malignancy of cancer it’d found a new festering point to break forth from. Now it was dripping onto your head - mildew, mold - dampening your hair and a shirt reaching antiquity in it’s age.

You’re wondering if they’ve forgotten you. Again.

It wasn’t an abnormal condition to your life. Days whittling away in the darkness, shrunk into a corner and waiting for some sign of life to finally reach you. A sound, shadows moving in the gap of the door. You are devoid of information, and attempting to ignore the steady discomfort of the leak above you. The need to empty the pail of water is growing, but the need to eat strongest of all.

Acknowledging the hunger sets it to bloom like flies, your stomach rattling without reprieve and knocking at your insides with the persistence of a Jehovah’s Witness. The worst part being, the proselytization occurring beneath your ribs is actually true this time.

You can feel the deceptive bite of fatigue setting in.

And wasn’t that the thing, in the end? That the hungrier and thirstier you got, the smaller any other punishment became. Being caught extended the punishment, which then shrunk beneath the gaze of your desperate basic needs.

You don’t realize it now, not for many years. But they were doing this to you on purpose.

The world remains as quiet as a held breath, and the hunger will not abate you any reprieve. You know that you have to do something, the same dance you’ve done countless times at this point. And the first steps start like this: Your face presses into the coats and sweaters and rugs gathered festering beneath you, your available eye peering from the gap under the door to see what the outside world looks like. You’re met with the dark, only cut through by the single dim light above the kitchen sink. Pressing your forehead harder into the door to turn and look reveals the street lights outside, the trees swaying on a gentle breeze. But no signs of movement, a sentiment shared when you look at the glass door that leads to the back porch.

Not even the television flickers with the corpselike presence of your father. Meaning it was either late enough that she’d gotten him to head up to bed with her-

Or they weren’t home.

Your mother has a bit of an unresolved hoarding problem. Things gathered across the house in these designated little zones that your father had deemed ‘acceptable cluster areas.’ One of those spaces, ironically, was here. The closet that you’d found yourself in countless times before. The entire cubby is overwhelmed with evidence of her penchant to take without letting go, absolutely drowning in shoes as it is. There are racks reaching up to where the coats hang, filled to the brim with pairs on pairs of loafers, sneakers, heels, boots, slippers, and the like. But even that wasn’t enough, and they spill down into an expensive waterfall all across the floor and cloistered into the corners. Too many for organization anymore, and yet remain untouched and unwilling to be parted with. It’s a graveyard of vanity. And even where the last bit of floor space remained, it’d been overtaken by coats, sweaters, jackets, and rugs.

The upside to this misfortune is that it made hiding things incredibly easy.

In the far back, sectioned away inside of a pair of boots she’d bought and then wrinkled her nose at no more than a week later. Down in the toe, easy enough for you to collect. A card and a bobby pin, already folded up and shaped for necessary use. You didn’t need to break the lock to get out. It wasn’t a very good one, repurposed from one of the other doors in the house. Which meant that if you jimmied the lock just far enough, you could slip the stolen credit card into the gap and force the door to unlatch.

It used to take you quite some time, you get it on the second shot.

The world is so very quiet right now. No birds, no cars. There’s the steady hum of dark hour insects, the breeze dragging fingers over the roof of the house. And yet stepping out into the quaint kitchen feels akin to walking the jungle at night. You feel unsafe. Watched and threatened by your trespass into the world. It’s without fail the most harrowing part of your journey. And with practiced spite you take your first few, cautious steps forward. Food calls ravenously from the posy pink fridge. Crooning in a tirade that threatens your sanity. But you know better, the world needs to be safe before food can be a thought. So, even with your stomach clenching in protest, you turn for the front door.

Nothing sits in the driveway, and you know that you are free.

Presented with as many options as your unknown time limit provides, you head first for the dingy yellow bathroom closest to the kitchen. It’s small, clean enough, and allows you to quell your protesting bladder. Your reflection is an unfortunate passerby on the way, and it reminds you of what you’ve become. Hair turned into greasy locks rather than individual strands, skin stretched across your body rather than laid upon it. Your teeth…

You brush your teeth the moment you finish relieving yourself.

They’ve yellowed - but that’s to be expected - and hit the stage where your gums are tender and sore as the bristles pass over them. That sort of feel good ache where you’re scratching something you probably shouldn’t be. It’s as upsetting as it is relieving, finally getting to clean them even as you wonder how bad off they are. When you spit into the sink, it comes away red.

Food follows this, any deliberation decided ages ago by trial and error. The quickest most satiating thing that makes little to no mess and can be kept in the closet with you with minimal issue. By that metric, you end up making eight PB&J’s to hold you over. The first four are eaten - until your stomach hurts and you’re queasy and ready to be sick - and the latter four are put in cling wrap to take with, all of it washed down on a colossal cup of orange juice. It doesn’t taste good, mind. It stings painfully at your teeth and has been painted in all sorts of wrong angles by the toothpaste you’d nearly flooded your mouth with earlier. In spite of this, you don’t even blink at it. Going and going until you’re truly certain you’ll be sick if you take even a sip more. You need your fill as quickly as possible, paranoid that you decided to leave your cell right as the wardens would be returning from wherever they went. It was always like this, and you didn’t know that you’d ever be able to stop.

Jelly smeared at the corner of your mouth, breathing heavy, flexing your hands and rubbing at the knuckles of your thumbs, you contemplate your next move. These things had an order in your mind, a necessity barometer that dictated to you the acceptability of failing that task. That’s why - instead of simply moving along with whatever you desired to do, you stood in the bathroom with a stack of ratty old clothes in your arms, contemplating your way into a true anxious paralysis. Do you have the time? Can you shower? Can you finally feel clean after ages otherwise?

You’d gotten the most of it out of the way, your bladder is empty and stomach full. You’d brushed your teeth. You’d empty the bucket right before you crawled back into your nest to wait out the remainder of your trial. Bathing would be nice, but beyond the itch and the ever present fine coat of grime you know you can last longer. You’d done it before.

Still, the greed of opportunity was licking at your ankles, beckoning you into reckless decision-making and a lack of time management. You wanted so badly to feel clean and maintained, and the offer was staring at you. You just had to turn the knob.

Your feet wiggle against the tile, stained by the ceiling light. You could have your shower, you just needed to put the clothes down and step into the tub. That’s it, all you had to do.

It feels like you’re stealing something precious, the moment you do.

The shower runs scalding, hot enough to sear like you were trying to burn off months of filth- maybe like you were trying to punish yourself for taking more than you absolutely needed to survive. You barely stay in long enough to lather and rinse yourself, drop the bar three times out of sheer nervous shakes, and aggressively wash your hair root to tip with shampoo. Conditioner is seriously considered being abandoned, but in the end that little whispering gluttony pushes you- just a little bit further, that’s all you needed.

In the end, no one finds you. The bathroom door isn’t beaten down, you aren’t hauled humiliated and naked back to your boot-laden cell. You wash, and you dry off, and you dress in fresh clothes. You feel clean. And when ever necessity is done, the urge to be out of the room doesn’t leave.

You stand at the center of the living room, paralyzed once more for all the options you’ve been handed, and wonder at what to do.

So, you just start picking at random.

Your father has an old record player, and a bunch of vinyls in a case sitting just beside it. It’s easy enough to peruse, to put something on that croons softly throughout the first floor of the house. You don’t eat more, though you’d like to - you fear the punishment that would come. You look at books, read a few lines before growing bored. You consider turning on the television and that inspires are sort of primitive fear in you that immediately rejects the notion. No movies, then.

You indulge in something mildly voyeuristic. Something that feels prohibited, utterly banned from your life.

You step out onto the front porch.

You don’t go further, and you take a pair of slippers with you. But you find yourself perched on the rickety old railing that lines the front of your home. With the door still open, the soft music of the record player still reaches you in whispers and hums. It’s joined in a comfortable companionship with the sound of distant water, and the rustle of the wind that makes your whole body shiver. Not with cold, but with stimulus. Your hair moves, fresh and light from being washed, and your eyes fall shut to the feeling of warmth in the dark. Summer hugging you lovingly, buying you a beautiful moment before you return to the same four walls. The same clothes. The deafening silence.

You know this will come to an end. It always does. But for a little bit, just a little bit, you get to pretend it lasts forever.

“No, no. I’m telling you— I’m serious, listen-” Bob is laughing. His voice crescendos across his own, wobbling giggles in a desperate war of attrition to get his point out over your own loud protests. You two have been going on like this for the past ten minutes, a cozy conversation that suddenly went awry in the best way possible the moment childhood media got involved. It turned out, you two were mortal enemies, even in the media you shared.

This is the third time you two have done this, and you feel a little strange.

“There’s no way in hell I am letting you - Bob - you aren’t telling me anything other than Silence in the Library is the best Doctor Who episode-”

“But Blink—!”

“I don’t - give - a damn about- about the Weeping Angels, Bob!”

And then you inhale, more like a desperate gasp for oxygen that rips through you loudly.

Followed by a snort.

The entire conversation ground to an abrupt halt. Bob’s gaze boring into the camera through which you watch him. And then, soft with near disbelief: “Did you just… make that noise?”

“…Shut up.”

It wasn’t the bad kind of strange, but it was a feeling you found yourself fundamentally unable to place the exact name of. A sort of squirrely warmth that made you want to hide, and yet the idea of not doing this every chance you got made you very, very crushingly sad. Bob was strange, but it was a flavor you’d had a thousand times- usually being the one carrying the label. Maybe it was why you got excited by the prospect of interacting with him, these brief interludes before returning to your fundamentally separate lives.

Against all irrationality you end up planting your face into your hands as if you could hide from him out of embarrassment, this deep seated urge to vanish from reality cropping up that only blooms more when - subsequently - Bob’s brows find his hairline and he only giggles harder.

“You- you snort when you laugh?”

“I said shut up,” though you put more force into it, you sound like a whiny teenager. And not entirely unintentionally. The way his shoulders had pulled up, smile so broad and unabashed wasn’t something you wanted to take away with a missed tone.

Even if it was killing you a little bit.

The second time you interacted hadn’t been quite so rambunctious as this. Rather, the conversation had comprised of long moments of silence interwoven with gentle small talk. Like you were reaching out for the first, probing touches of each other’s personalities. It was easy to fuck this part up, you knew. Even before you’d dashed everything with the others, you’d known.

“What other- uh- weird noises do you make?” Bob has turned now so that he’s sitting with his legs pretzeled, his hands in his lap as he stares earnestly into the camera that makes up your eyes. He’s slouched back down a bit since the moment passed, but he looks comfortable rather than reticent or somehow unsure. His head tilted, and you know that he’s just fishing for more bait to tease you with. You had learned, rather rapidly, that Bob could be lippy when he felt relaxed.

There’s a second where you contemplate sincerely running down the list of noises you habitually make throughout your life, or even the noises they make that you’ve passively grown used to over the many years they’ve been with you. But in the end, you go for something else-

“Well you see, there’s- there’s this thing…” you find yourself pausing for dramatic effect, your heart hammering with the excitement of getting to execute a joke.

“Yeah?”

And then, voice quivering with the inability to contain yourself, “There’s this string in my back, and for some reason when people pull it I just spout all these weird sentences?”

There’s a beat, anticipation.

“So you’re telling me if I tug on you, you start babbling?”

You think you might actually hear your mind slam directly into the gutter, a steel pipe on concrete. You know that gurgling noise when water goes down the drain? The remainder of your thoughts, arguably even the capacity to have a thought, washing away forever.

Bob, for what it was worth, appeared to be sharing the sentiment. The stages of grief were flying by on his face with the aggression of a bullet through silk.

And then, chaos.

“Oh… my god—”

“I’m- I’m sorry I didn’t even think-” his hands held out in front of him, as he stammers frantically through an excuse or explanation he just doesn’t have.

“Did that just come out of your mouth!?”

“I’m sorry, the joke was just right there and I didn’t even consider how it sounded-”

“You want to get on me about snorting-”

“I thought that was just funny-!”

“Robert Reynolds!” You finally declare, exasperated and grinning ear to ear. Too caught up in the absurdity of the situation to really care how embarrassing your joke might have truly been. “You dirty man.”

You watch him through the screen as you squirm about, entertained to the point that you can only get all of the energy out by wringing your hands and swaying back and forth. Otherwise you might start personally introducing him to all the other weird noises you can make without thinking.

“Did you expect anything else?” He finally settles on, and you can see the red all across his neck and face. One of his hands coming up to firmly clap his face as if he could will the warmth gone. “I didn’t end up here because I was a saint, you know?”

“Still,” you say, a little breathless. You watch Bob make twist his face subtly when he hears the amusement still hasn’t fled you entirely. “I don’t know, the way the others talk about you. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“It’s hard not to when you keep saying things like that.”

“Like what?”

“That I want to get on you?”

“That’s a completely normal sentence!”

“I don’t think that it is! And besides, you’ve got me thinking about it and now I can’t stop—”

“Thinking about it huh?”

“Okay, I’m jumping off the Tower.” Bob’s voice has turned into a baleful moan, his eyes squeezing painfully tight.

You snort again, Bob’s embarrassed smile only grows more, and both of you are tumbling back into fits of giggles all over again. It’s easy, it’s so easy it’s terrifying. You can feel your consciousness slip back into you, reminding you that you’re not normal and this is an incredibly rare fluke afforded to you by Bob’s disarming oddity. Earnest to a fault that entirely defuses your capacity to feel like you don’t belong.

It doesn’t take the wind out of your sails, no. But you descend into a comfortable quiet as the two of you ruminate on the next path in conversation.

“Hey,” Bob’s voice, sliding through the speakers. Soft, conversational. Something is on his mind.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you called that, by the way?” And he pauses, “If it’s not offensive to phrase that- …that sentence like that.”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘that’?”

“Oh- right, uh… Terminal? Why?”

Though he cannot see it - an unfair one-sidedness of the senses - a solemn little smile comes to your face. Head tipping to the side as you ponder the best way to explain a story that’s never particularly comfortable to broach. You don’t need to tell him everything, not yet at least. That would be for another time, if you were so privileged the chance.

“Do you know what a computer terminal is?”

“I guess? Well enough.”

“Yeah… It’s sort- sort of a play on words? I wasn’t the one that came up with it. It just refers to the fact that I do the work that I do, and uh…

That I’m, y’know. I’m sort of a terminal case. No coming back from how bad off I am. So far in there’s no way out.” You laugh lightheartedly, even if the weight of the sentiment is heavy on your chest. Even if it pushes against your sternum like a big, cold hand.

Bob, however, doesn’t join you in laughing.

“What does that mean?” He sounds quietly incredulous, even. It’s a little… accusatory, in an odd way?

You don’t know why, but Bob is fixing the camera under his gaze unwaveringly. It’s uncomfortable, and you can perceive a very sudden shift in the atmosphere, the direction that the conversation is headed. It sends your anxiety creeping higher, anticipating some sort of confrontation with him, though you aren’t sure what you would have done to warrant it. Did you do something wrong? Again?

“I- I mean-” You take a shuddering breath, you’ve stopped swaying back and forth. The kinetic energy shifting from enthusiasm to nerves means that it is isolated into your leg, bouncing relentlessly as you try to explain in a way that won’t worsen the situation. “I- it’s just- just a funny name? I guess?

Like-” You know that you haven’t told Bob everything, who and what you are. The- none of it, really. And some part of you doesn’t want to. You like the way things are, and paranoia whispers that you might lose it if he knows. That he might change toward you. “I don’t know… I guess an, ‘abandon all hope ye who enter’ sort of thing? I mean, it’s not wrong, I’m… Not exactly the kind of person you put a vote of confidence in.”

“…Who gave you that name?”

His reply comes quickly enough that it nearly overlaps the petering, weak end of your own sentence. His voice is still soft, though you’ve not yet known it to be capable of true severity or force, instead there’s a seriousness that’s almost somber.

“…Valentina, some years ago. Why?”

“Because, it’s mean.”

It was such a simple response, and yet you will find yourself lingering on it days, even weeks later. Even your own response leaves a sour taste in your mouth, one that you see reflected in the subtle adjustment of posture from Bob.

“It’s okay… better that than my real name.”

Your attempt to assuage or deflect from his incredibly blunt opinion of your tag felt like you were scraping algae out of the bottom of a barrel with it’s weakness of efficacy, and you think maybe Bob did too.

“I know I’m… I’m not the best guy to be saying this to you but, uh- …if there’s anything the others taught me. That Yelena taught me.

You’re allowed to want more than just better.”

There’s a long moment where you just stare down at your soft, uncanny hued hands, then the desk. Your keyboard with it’s oil-worn keycaps, your slightly dusty microphone. The little gadgets that make your life so very comfortable in it’s isolation, well worn but well maintained. He doesn’t know, and that’s okay. It’s not his fault, it’s yours.

“…I don’t even know what I’d want that’s more than this, Bob.”

“Maybe… maybe take the time to figure it out? I’ll even brainstorm with you. Though- I can’t tell you that it’s going to be great coming from me... I don’t think the serum really unfried my brain from all the meth.”

Bob manages to squeak a little laugh out of you, and though you’re too self conscious to look at him, feeling watched even when he can’t see you, you notice the way his head droops to one side, as if happy to have lightened things a bit.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that too, someday. If you don’t mind me being a little greedy.”

“Can’t say anything about that either. Larceny and robbery, remember?”

Amused grin, and a voice dipped soft and velvet. “How could I ever forget?”

You feel like a teenager sneaking around, grabbing alcohol to go to a party while your parents are asleep.

It’s strange, because it’s not like Bob and you aren’t adults. But there’s this feeling of a broach of conduct that grows stronger with each passing interaction, each stolen nighttime conversation. You’d relegated yourself to these specific, open areas of the Tower. You’d bound yourself to only show up when they were up and busy, afternoon interactions that teetered somewhere between completely professional and devastatingly awkward.

It wasn’t even that they were cruel to you, though they didn’t particularly like you. But the feeling of being the odd one out somehow managed to grow under the weight of the fact you could guarantee that none of the others realized just how much time Bob had begun to spend talking to you. It wasn’t like you were glued together, days and even weeks would pass without your long, late night conversations.

But still. So many instances of saying a soft goodnight to him after the others had left, seeing him give a lopsided grin and a returning call for good rest. It was something precious to you, and it happening without their knowledge made it feel precarious even in it’s total innocence. Maybe it’s because of one of the very first things Bob had ever told you, that they all had trust issues. Why wouldn’t they expect nefarious ends, they were already convinced you were a spy. And beyond that, it wouldn’t be Valentina’s first tactic to put Bob on her side- or at least under her control.

“I know you aren’t, by the way.” Comes Bobs voice one night, it’s three-thirty in the morning and he’s invited you to the communal area. The cold Bob is nearly immune to, but the wind makes it impossible to read a physical book and - he’d admitted to you - that heights terrified him even when it didn’t feel like it was trying to drag him off the edge.

Instead, your glass eye stares down upon the kitchen where Bob is perched at the counter. He’s eating a cereal concoction that you know he didn’t come up with in front of you, his movements practiced as he fished out the three different cereals that he’d poured into a large Tupperware bowl, nearly a quarter gallon of milk following. Initially upon mixing it he’d just been folding the contents over like eggs, but when you’d laughed and said he looked like a witch, he’d grabbed the large spoon in both hands and begun to stir it all together like a vat of potion. Muttering the fragments of words he remembered from watching Hocus Pocus years ago and only entirely unsober, a light shade of pink to his cheeks when he’s slur over or stammer across the parts he completely blanked out.

Now he’s shoveling it into his mouth, only stopping long enough to talk to you without spraying milk and bits of coco puffs everywhere.

“A spy, I mean. I know you aren’t. I know they think you are, but—” Bob cuts himself off with a noncommittal shrug of his free shoulder, shoveling yet another trough-full of cereal into his mouth to eat. You’re starting to piece together that maybe the super soldier appetite was another something he’d inherited off the Sentry serum.

“You sound awfully confident of that… Any reason why?”

“I mean… You did pretty terribly from day one.”

At this point, the casual calls to your error don’t sting from him anymore. It wasn’t intentional, you knew that. Rather, Bob was just an alarmingly straightforward person that you suspected might be as unaware of social cues as you were. A feat, really.

But truth be told, it helped to have him mention it. It wasn’t some scarlet letter you had to tiptoe around, you errored and this was how. Now do better, because you’re being given the space and the kind patience to do so.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, does it?” You’ve propped your elbow onto the laminate counter that makes your desk, one of the CRT monitors pulled free from it’s casing to sit closer to you than the rest. The arm you aren’t propped on fiddling around with Maruchan ramen, fresh out of the microwave. “I’d argue the best spies can manage to be awkward on purpose, right?”

“Yeah, I guess… But I- I don’t know. You don’t have that thing about you, I guess.”

You shovel a bite of noodles into your mouth, and unlike sweet Bob you lack the decency to not talk with your mouth full. Though he doesn’t seem to mind, you can see a grin as he goes to take a bite of his cereal when he hears you slur through your words. “What thing? Ominous, sexy badass woman vibes? Super murderer essence?”

You watch him tap the spoon against the bowl for a moment, those impossibly dark eyes staring straight ahead into the glamorously massive windows that overlook all of Manhattan. You don’t know this, but Bob wonders if you’re anywhere within sight. Or if you’re across the entire world from him, blocked by the turning horizon.

“Can’t say I’ve had experience with too many assassins or spies, you- you’ve met them all. But… I really don’t know. I’ve seen how they act when they’re trying to get something. Does that- that makes sense, right?

It’s not the same as you. You’re… I don’t know. You feel real.”

Real would be the last word you ever used for yourself, real people went outside. But he doesn’t know that you don’t, so you smile at the screen too close to your face anyways.

“Well… I’m glad you believe that. I know I don’t leave a lot of confidence to be seen that I’m not shady.”

“Valentina.”

“…What?”

“Valentina doesn’t. It’s not you. I mean— you didn’t do perfectly. But that’s not really your fault, is it? She pretty much set you up to fail.” He did that thing you’d begun to pick up on, those moments where- when he had a great deal of conviction about something he was saying, Bob would nod to himself as he spoke.

“I…” You hadn’t really thought of it like that. Sure, you’d been frustrated with her perpetual interference as you tried desperately to form even the most basic hospitable connections. But the onus of the failure had still been as it always was, on you. And you still didn’t believe it wasn’t. You were sure the others wouldn’t have failed so miserably. “I guess.”

It’s very difficult not to descend into a fidgeting sort of silence, placed in this inescapable box where your instinct disagrees vehemently with Bob’s kind reading of your circumstances. You could deny, and then he’d fight, and you’d feel that upset that clogs your throat when he tries so sincerely to be on your side even when you don’t deserve it. Or you agree and feel like you’re lying to him.

It seems - if the way his shoulders droop slightly are anything to go by - that Bob has read you on that.

“It’s okay if you think I’m wrong. I- I can believe it for both of us.”

A weak giggle, sincere but threadbare by the feelings you had to wrestle down like a furious crocodile. “Thanks, Bob… I’ll appreciate it for both of us.”

That managed a snort out of him, that little crooked closed mouth grin he’d do before he ducked back into the food he was eating. Which, alarmingly, was already nearly depleted. Truly, that serum had to do atrocious things to the body for that to be feasible while he remains looking the way he does.

“How’s the hunt going?”

Food has been eaten and discarded, an argument about whether or not Raisin Bran even deserved to be called a cereal has been left to an indomitable stalemate, and now you’ve bunched yourself into your desk. Your elbow serves as a pillow, leaving the rest of you to curve awkwardly off and onto your recliner-turned-desk-chair. You know you don’t have much longer before he leaves, the others beginning to rise with the sun.

You hum at his question, “Sluggish. A lot of leads, but they’re not the kind I can dig into personally. Or I could but— Valentina doesn’t like me going rogue, wants her eyes on everything.”

You notice something strange in Bob’s expression when you mention the limitations you have in place. But whatever crosses his mind you find you can watch get locked away someplace. Maybe to be broached later, when you had more time together.

“Anything I can do to help?”

You scoff a little, “Go knock on their door and ask them to be less elusive?”

“Sure. I’ll uh— set that right next to mastering my control over the Sentry.”

“Oh, could you? That’d be so helpful for us.”

He snorts, something a little acrid and dark- the way you liked him to be. It was fun, to get to know Robert Reynolds well enough to see his darker humor come out without the fear that someone was going to smash the glass and pull the nuclear fallout alarm because his life consisted of eggshells. Worse now than ever before.

“You should go… To bed, I mean.”

His eyes are back on the camera, then. Brows lifting a bit.

“Me and sleep aren’t friends, really.”

“I know… I’m not trying to mother you, just- you seem a little sleepy. Might be good to take advantage, especially with all that serum making you eat a median salary a week.”

You don’t know what expression you’re getting out of Bob. Not yet at least, in the future you come to realize it’s the same expression you get on your face— the one when you realize you’re a real flesh and blood person, and as a result people can learn your tics well enough to call on them. Not even as an accusation, just a natural part of you as you are.

“…Well maybe I don’t want to. I have to wait all day to get to talk to my- my friend in the ceiling, if I do.”

So what if you’re grinning ear to ear, huh?

“Don’t worry, she isn’t going anywhere. She’s quite cozy up here, the spiders are very polite.”

“Well that’s good, I- you know… I wouldn’t want you to feel like an unwelcome neighbor.”

He means it as a lighthearted joke, another awkward attempt at banter that you two hopelessly and unashamedly throw across the link. But it still hits you a bit sharper, a bit harder than that. Because he’s still sincere when he says it, he just doesn’t consider entirely the weight of that desire to you. It’s not like you’ve ever felt welcome before.

It’s not like anyone has ever wanted you to feel welcome before. It’s not that anyone has ever even considered it one way or the other. You don’t think about whether or not a chair likes to be sat in, after all.

“Believe me… It’s the most welcome I’ve ever felt.”

When Bob smiles, he looks a little proud.

You’ve begun to learn something interesting about Bob, the more time you spend talking with him.

It wasn’t one of those things where it was rare and required a particularly astute eye, so much as a symptom of your chronic people watching showing it’s face again. Sort of developed withdrawals from your favorite guilty pleasure, with how much time Bob has begun to take up.

Bob, who’s interesting little quirk is his cadence. His body language. It almost feels like he belongs on a boat, to you.

His voice does this perpetual thing, you’ve noted… No matter the mood that had struck him that day, hour, or conversation. His timbre sways. This winding, soft and self contained tempo that drifts up and down on the currents of whatever his thoughts were. At times he slows down all the more, lingers on these breathy pauses, little hums, eyes batting, head doing that charming little nod that you’d picked up on some time ago as he regains a more solid grasp of whatever it was he was trying to convey to you. It all fell in line with the way he moved. You remember the files on him, sparse as they were, and you remember the recordings from well before your arrival.

His posture had also changed quite a bit, and yet never lost it’s key component. The images from before he ever met the New Avengers, he’d curled entirely in on himself as if wilted- or maybe more adequately as if he was stuck in a perpetual state of anticipated violence. The way a person tries to cover their vitals, his body tense and retaliatory. Skin sallow, eyes so very dull. He was decaying on two feet, and it brokered no surprise that he would join something as drastic as the Sentry program, looking at him then.

The footage that followed had shown another aspect of him, not quite so defeated in the moment. The awkward slouch of his shoulders, the fidgeting of his hands, the perpetual flighty nervousness. Thrown out of his depth and dealing with - what they would all learn later - were the sort of endocrinological shifts that would be fatal in a typical human. Hormonal and chemical imbalances that far exceeded dangerous, metabolic adjustments that were Frankenstein-esque in their severity. His brain screaming out all manner of neurological signals that - frankly - Bob was in no mental or emotional state to even really register, much less address.

Being shot to (attempted) pieces, attacked by his new friends, and having his brainstem reduced to a vertebral slushie inside his nape didn’t help any of this.

And finally, the Bob you’d met now. His hands almost always sat firmly within his pockets, whether they were his pants or his hoodies. He still had that bow in his shoulders, but he stood like he wasn’t ashamed to take up the space of his own skin anymore. His head tucked to one side almost always.

And through it all, he still had that particular gait.

The way he would shift foot to foot, swaying the upper half of his body slightly. The way his shrug would always make him dip toward the right without fail. The way his head would swing when he was fond or bashful, and the rest of him would follow after the motion. He was painted in watercolor and moved like a current, steady and fluid. Summer rain when happy and midnight downpour when not.

He’s with the rest of his team in one of the areas you’d relegated yourself to when not invited by Bob during your late night rendezvous. He’s not dressed the way he normally does, he’s in trousers and a thin white t-shirt, a graphic splattered over the front and a faint discoloration at the collar you suspect to be a stain of some sort. His wrists are both decorated in little leather and bead bracelets, which you learned from prior… studying was a favored form of jewelry for the man.

It allowed him something to fidget, or stim with? That was socially acceptable. It reduced his self consciousness over the need to twist and rub an object between his fingers constantly the way he usually did. And it prevented the inevitable destruction of all his clothes from plucking them threadbare. If he wasn’t spinning the entire bracelet or repetitively tracing the texture on the tips of his fingers, he was pressing the ceramic beads together to listen to the hiss that the friction provided. They were passive things, you didn’t even know that he consciously realized he was doing it, anymore.

He has a calm smile right now, nodding along attentively to whatever Ava is telling him at the moment. She’s cross-legged, her arms draped over her knees with a nearly full large glass of orange juice in her hand. It dangles close to her finger tips, sweat beading down it’s side as the other hand gestures limply, articulating something.

You suspect that she’s recounting from the mission which they just returned, you’d not been needed for it and so stayed out. You didn’t… you didn’t want to intrude on something so incredibly sensitive while they weren’t aware or given ample time to consent to your presence. You knew Bob would end up telling you, it was another he’d himself gone on. He always came back looking a little more alive for a while after these assignments.

Something about getting to help, even if he’s not good at the fighting part of it. Not yet, at least.

That smile widens briefly, Bob nods with a touch of enthusiasm and you watch the way his throat moves. Ava responds with a smile - more like a shit eating grin about something. She makes a comment, Bob’s brows find his hair line and you watch.

You always watch.

That little motion he does again, his eyes blinking rapidly that reminds you of a hard drive reading off it’s data, head turning from side to side as he speaks- clearly considering whatever it was that Ava said. Whatever response it was, you can see Ava’s laughter. It’s not loud like the others, overly obvious, it’s in the rhythmic shake of her shoulders.

You found that everyone quite liked Bob, and vice versa, but that you weren’t alone in… well, in enjoying him alone.

Ava liked to talk to him when it was reduced to the two. You think she might struggle with the group, the noise. Growing easily overwhelmed by the loudness and the raucous behavior and the unpredictability. Bob, watercolor in motion, is a soothing balm. Too self contained to stand out amidst all these bright colors and loud personalities, but a refreshing voice once you’ve managed to escape them.

They have these conversations semi-frequently. Not for particularly long before Ava is directing her attentions to something else, mind. But you can see now like you did then how she’s physically unwinding as his head tilts to one side and he says something to her. Ava looks down, her smile is fond.

Then she’s standing, another hefty swig of the orange juice in her glass. When she passes she stops long enough to pat Bob on the shoulder, a brief pause, then his hair is being mussed before she disappears. Bob weakly swatting at her, though you can tell there’s no really desire for her to stop doing it. Especially with the smile he fires off toward her retreating back.

He stays there, just a little longer. He fidgets with one of his bracelets, presses his fingers into his chest for a moment. Dark eyes stare at the ground, at nothing. He hasn’t stopped smiling.

Then, much like Ava he retreats. Out of the room, and out of your area of sight.

The next time you get to talk is broad daylight, and Bob is in the lobby of the Tower.

You weren’t actually paying attention for once, your eyes preoccupied with a few offhand news articles describing unusual trade activity around Madripoor (already a place known for it’s odd activity) when that familiar voice meets your ears through the speakers clasped lovingly around your head.

“Terminal? You there?”

They react before even you do, the screens shuttering violently as they flick with a nauseating speed to the cameras inside the lobby of the Avengers’ Tower.

He’s standing there looking… well a little flustered, but good. His hair is more awry than usual, and he’s done up in layers. A t-shirt with a blue collar, a cheap cotton-y button up left entirely open. His trusty bracelets are on, and this week you notice a dark color on his nails that has never been there before. Something from Yelena you’d more than bet money on. He’s still in (nicer) sweatpants this time, and beneath are scuffed sneakers that he was ill inclined to part with.

His hand finds his face, rubbing aggressively at his eyes as his fingers twitch faintly. When it drops to his side he looks out into the light, approaches before slinking away. He’s nervous.

“Hey, Bob. I’m here.”

“Oh- oh okay… Good. Yeah- uh… It’s-”

You don’t remember the last time you’d seen Bob stammer this hard in conversation with you. It wasn’t beyond him to do so. Just usually under too many pairs of eyes, where he felt the weight of his words were reaching too far, or were being treated too importantly did he tend to fail at crisp speech. With you it was more that lulling, tidal cadence in his voice than any sort of tripping, scattered legibility.

“Sorry… I uh- it’s not an emergency or anything. I- I just…”

Articles, Madripoor, and Enmis all become background noise. You find yourself turning on your seat, pulling it closer to the desk so that your ribs meet the edge, the corner biting into you softly. His image is moved down to the closest screens to you, taking in the mildly nauseated, clearly restless way that he continues to approach the windows and then flee again. His eyes keep finding the camera you look at him with, and then darting to some unknown subject in the far distance.

“Bob, it’s okay. You don’t need it to be an emergency to talk to me in the daylight, you know?”

Bob nods aggressively, his throat and mouth working as if chewing up the thing he was trying to say.

“They’re uh… they’re having me go- go out into the city, today. I guess there’s this place they want me to try out but it doesn’t do delivery so…” His shrug is a little hopeless, and suddenly the less-comfy-than-normal attire are more understandable to you. He’s trying to make himself feel a little nicer before he steps so deeply out of his element.

“It’s been…. it’s been a long time since I’ve tried to do anything out in the public, or stay out there. So I’m just a little—”

You don’t need him to finish to understand the train of thought. He’s panicking a little bit. You can hazard a guess and assume that Bob had lured himself into a bit of a false sense of security, being able to talk so comfortably with you. You were a disembodied voice in his home, after all. But this is going out there, and you understand above all else the terror of out there.

“Hey… It’s okay to be scared. It’s- there’s a lot of different places and directions, and you’re expected to keep track of all of it, the sights and sounds. To address when people are talking to you, to register what they even said quickly enough to reply in a timely manner. Not to mention the fact it feels like eyes are on you constantly, don’t even know what you must look like to them when you’re just being yourself.”

His eyes once again have not left the camera since you rambled, fixing you with a gaze that holds something deep inside that you don’t quite place. A recognition of some sort, maybe camaraderie, but not quite so simple with the little furrow of his brows.

“Yeah… Exactly… How- how do you handle it?”

You don’t.

“Remember that the entire time you’re out there, you have an entire team on your side.” You pause for a moment, “And that lots of people are just as scared of looking out of place as you are. Let yourself laugh if it goes sideways, they’ll be as relieved as you. And the- the whole memory will feel softer. More bearable.”

You didn’t really know that, it felt like a bit of a falsehood to tell him. But you’d chewed through a good dozen self help books in your life trying to find some grasp on the outside world that would let you step out there. It may not be perfect, but they were the most practical scraps of information you’d gleaned out of what otherwise amounted to homework with generalized feel good platitudes interwoven.

Either way, it seemed to help. Not much, but you watched him mouth the words you’d just spoken. Turning them over in his mind like a mantra as he began to pace again. Less frantic, more like he was doing drills of a sort.

“Hey… Can I- I could make a suggestion?”

His gaze turns back to the camera.

“If… if you wanted- if it’d really help… Put in an earpiece. I can be there with you the entire time.”

You see the recognition of the offer shine in his dark eyes. It doesn’t take long either, the way an impact on still water causes it to fold out, in, then crash into itself a second time. The initial drop, the offer made, and the second-

Realizing that there’s no world in which Bob does this that they don’t notice the earpiece. Or him talking to himself. To you.

“If… If I do that…”

“I know, that’s why it’s your choice. They uh- they don’t really like me, anyway. You’re the one that will get all the shit for this. So… It’s just an offer, no pressure.

If you think it helps, I’m here.”

Bob seems caught by it, like his mind is rubber-banding aggressively back and forth. Enthusiasm at the thought, then terror at being caught, then guilt that he’d subject you to potential further ire. At the very least further scrutiny from a group of people that loved him enough to flank up like bodyguards and protect him from the scary voice in the ceiling.

In the end, he half takes you up on it.

A quick elevator ride has him plucking one of the dozens of ear pieces (many ended up collateral during missions, extra was just frugal) laid out in the armory, instructions from you leading him to the terminal nearby. Upon placing it there, his gaze expectant, you could feel as they rooted themselves inside- bonding until they and the wires were no different. You were now attached, nothing could prevent communication, save the electronics being destroyed somehow.

It ends up being crammed violently into his pocket - and some part of you wonders if they were destroyed just then - when the entire gaggle of aspiring heroes comes bulldozing out of the elevator like a party spills out onto the lawn in a college movie. They’re chattering loudly, their voices layered atop each other. Pieces are being removed and tossed aside, light armor shed. It was a local ordeal, and they were stopping by long enough to get out of the unnecessary pieces before ‘Adventures with Bob’ began. John is shoving Bucky, who elbows him in turn. Someone is cracking a joke, Alexei is laughing, Yelena is rolling her eyes.

Absolutely none of them had expected him to be there, his fists crammed tightly into his pockets while he stared at them like they shot his dog in front of him.

“Bob? You okay?”

You watch the exchange go down, mic slapped mute and your fingers perched over your lips. You didn’t want to be the cause of disaster for Bob before the day had even passed by, knowing that the man definitely needed to escape his cage for a little bit. Experience the world, enjoy the sun. Bask in all the things he’s training to protect, rather than holding himself othered from it.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m- I’m good, I just-” his shoulders bunch aggressively as he looks off to the window. The nerves radiate off him nearly like vapor, and you know that the only saving grace he has right now is their understanding over his fear of heading out for an extended period. “I’ll be fine. I’m fine.”

Alexei is the first to him, enthusiastic with the temperament of a bulldozer. It doesn’t take long for poor Bob to suddenly have a massive arm dropped around his shoulders. He’s being pulled around like a ragdoll, and you see the way insane nervousness melts away into that sort of flustered alarm that only comes with true bewilderment.

Yelena is still watching him, suspicious and invested as she is in his well being. And as Alexei is dragging him by, he’s shooting a hand out to squeeze her bicep reassuringly.

It aches, the way you watch everything in her body soften from head-to-toe, in just one loving gesture.

“Do not worry! Avengerz will be with you! This will be occasion of fun and triumph for you! Feast like the Golden God you are!”

Underneath the chatter that begins to pick up as Bob is functionally kidnapped from where he was standing. You can hear him groan with long suffering weariness at the title. It’s been something he’s mentioned to you a few times, offhanded. The low intensity weight of expectation sitting on his shoulders constantly. The breakthrough that everyone wants him to have. None of them truly pressure Bob for it, he stresses every time you talk. But Alexei is the most vocal, and the feeling still sits there whether they’d like it to or not.

It’s his own expectation, too.

And you watch as Bob finds himself crushed like a sardine in a can, clustered into the very center of the gaggle of teammates as they head straight for the lobby. Yelena is talking to him while the others shout loudly, his head bent down conspiratorially so that her voice reaches him clearer than anyone else.

Then they’re crossing the threshold of the Tower, and Bob spares one last glance into your glass eye before he’s vanishing out of your grasp. You could chase, could haunt every single CCTV feed and doorbell camera they cross paths with like some digital phantom…

But you know this isn’t for you. You’ll be invited, or you won’t. That was for Bob to decide.

In the end, you do end up invited.

In the bathroom.

You can hear the panic in his voice the moment he blares through- so much louder than you’re used to with the microphone being next to his face. It makes you nearly leap out of your skin after an hour of dead silence and doomscrolling the internet under the guise of work.

“Terminal?”

It’s like this that you finally get to hear the gravelly nuances of his voice, not shredded away by poor microphone quality and immense distance. He speaks warmly and in his chest, and you hear the hiss of his teeth on certain words. It’s nice, you think. It suits him.

“Yeah! Yeah, hey. I’m here.”

“Hi. I’m not.” He doesn’t give you long enough to even question what that means, his voice warbles violently- so oddly disconnected from his environment without eyes on him. “I’m- I’m so far gone right now I think- think I’m losing my uh- my shit.”

He laughs then, a little insane and self deprecating and you know from that alone that he’s teetering the edge of a full blown panic attack.

“Okay, Bob? Honey? Listen to me, alright? I’m the only person you gotta worry about, is that okay?”

“…Yeah.”

“Where are you, are you alone? Can you remain that way?”

“Not- not for long. I uh… I stole the bathroom here because I thought I was about to vomit on the table.”

“That’s okay, that’s somewhere quiet. No one else exists right now but me, okay?”

Bob’s response this time is delayed, permeated by distressed panting. You don’t know if he was just having that hard of a time getting the words out, or if he’d nodded before remembering you can’t see him in a room with no cameras to steal.

“Okay.”

“What do you see around you?”

“Uh…” his pause is long again, but you give him a chance. He’s got this, you know he does. “Awf- awful yellow paint, like- like nacho cheese all over the walls? And these um- these really shitty mirrors that I think they got off of amazon or something. Sinks, but not the good ones with counter space. And these uh, these pink stalls. It’s really kind of awful in here.”

And you listen, you listen the entire time. He’s rambling, he’s panicking. But you buy him time. That’s all he needs, time. He can do this.

“Yeah that sounds absolutely abysmal… Are the urinals at least clean?”

“No idea… didn’t- uh, didn’t stay on my feet long enough to see them once I got in here.”

You snort, and you hear the crackle of the receiver at his own breath blowing out hard. “Probably disgusting, if the color scheme is anything to go by…” Then you take a breath, and dive for the worst, “Bob… What’s going on out there, huh? What’s got you so panicked?”

His breath hisses, and he hums out loud again, his brain buffering on how to answer.

“…There were too- too many options. The first order was fine, there was only like twelve things on the list and half of them I hate. So I thought- I thought I’d finally be normal and make it. But then the main courses came and- and there were so many and the nice waitress could come back any time. And they were- were all talking so I couldn’t just think and focus—”

He’s working himself back up into a frenzy he hasn’t even fully left yet. You can hear the ramble starting to trip over itself, too much steam for the rails.

“Okay, okay. That’s fine. Hey? Did you tell the others?”

“God, no… That’s- that’s why I decided to- to talk to you. I don’t want to disappoint them. And- and you already offered so I thought-”

“I’m glad you did, Bob… I’m not mad that you contacted me. I’m just wondering if you ask, maybe they can help? I mean- they clearly know the place. Maybe they’d have an idea of what you like?”

“…Maybe.” His voice sounds wet, hardly a whisper. You know he’s crying. “This is so fucking embarrassing. I’m a grown man and I can’t go out with my friends to order food.”

“It’s not embarrassing, Bob. It’s hard. There’s a difference.”

“Nobody else finds this hard.”

“I do.”

That’s enough to stop him. Not in the way someone who knows they’re being shut down does, but in this heavy, palpable sort of pause as if you’d accidentally revealed something huge. Not this time though. No. This was all you, for better or worse.

“…You do?”

“More than you even realize… And Bob. Those- those people out there. I’ve watched them with you for awhile now. They love you so much. Needing them to help you with this isn’t going to make them think less of you. They’re just happy you’re out and - up until this point at least - having a good time. It’s still progress, it’s just not the amount you wanted.”

There’s these long moments, the beats where all you hear is his breathing as it crackles through. You don’t know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. It’s a strange position, to be trying to offer this kind of advice to anyone. You don’t know if it’s great, you don’t know if it’s terrible.

“I didn’t used to struggle with this, you know?” It’s not what you expect to hear from him, and he pauses long enough to swallow, the click of his mouth opening audible even to you. “I- I mean I did but… But not like this. Mainly because- because meth makes it really hard to be scared of anything, when your default is just to get really pissed off. But even when I was on the comedown…

I don’t know. I didn’t- I was always scared it just didn’t- feel like I was dying like this.”

You take a moment, a soft, slow moment. Because you know what you say next will be very, very important for him.

“Bob…”

“Mhm?”

“It’s the first time in years that you’ve been entirely sober… and it’s the first time you’ve handled these feelings after being injected with something that’s- kinda notorious for exacerbating a persons feelings like a billion fold.

Of course you feel it’s so much worse. It’s because you’re so much more now. And it’ll take time, but you’ll adjust to the intensity. Everyone is here to help you shoulder it until then, okay?”

And for the first time since Bob’s panicked voice crossed over to you today, you hear the deep- heavy sigh that rattles out of his lungs. Not quite relieved, but like something was settling into his bones.

He doesn’t get to respond to you, for thanks or questioning or even to deny it outright. There’s the sound of thudding, and you hear a disgruntled voice muffled behind a door. It’s easy enough for you to grasp what’s happening even if you can’t understand the words.

“Shit… Okay- okay. I gotta go. Thank you for talking to me. I’m- I’m gonna try. I’m trying.”

You don’t hear from him again that day.

No, not until three in the morning. They tug violently at your mind until you break your self imposed rule and find yourself staring at the shape of Bob in his own bed in the perfect city-lit dark. One arm is hanging over the edge, vividly orange from the lights below, the other scrunched into the soft protection of his hoodie on his stomach. His eyes, though so very dark, glint off the lowlight. You’ve caught him in the middle of saying something, your timing allowing you to get the most important part:

“—Thank you, for this morning… It went better than I thought it would. And it’s because of you.

Have a great night, Terminal.”

You’re with Bob again, it’s the soft of night and you’ve been invited into the last space of your banishment since everything fell apart.

Dark, dark of night, and all the lanterns are turned on low- velvet like the rest. Everything about the space is hazy right now, it’s comfortable the way a womb would be and it cradles the moment just as gentle.

Bob is in his maximum comfort clothes, this massive ratty sweatshirt that swallows him up somehow. Pajama pants, socks, and a thick blanket pulled around him. He’s not even cold, but you learned that the addition of layers worked for him like compression. It made him feel more safe and more comforted.

Bob isn’t doing bad, per se. But it isn’t the same Bob who laughs at your unintended innuendos, who argues about tv shows with you, and who insists that all forms of diet soda are disgusting.

This one is quiet, and subdued. This one is lonely, and has invited you like an intrusion upon his wounds.

The New Avengers received an assignment, and they left. Three days ago.

Robert was okay at first, he’d even enjoyed the initial silence and the freedom to run around how he liked. Shirtless in the common areas, abominable food concoctions cooked gleefully, and whatever he wanted on the big TV.

But with each passing night that was also alone, each early morning without ritual and familiarity. As isolation droned on like a sermon, it had begun to quietly corrode him. His mind wandering into less pleasant territory, his boredom crawling. He wasn’t bad. But he wasn’t exactly doing good, either.

So, so very soft one night, he called after you. And as always, you answered.

There wasn’t much being discussed this time around, soft lulling things traded back and forth as he laid curled on the couch. He was watching the city, and you were watching him.

Then, sparingly, he states: “You’ve never called me that, before.”

“Called you what, before?” You don’t even hesitate to ask, you don’t even think to take the time to consider what he’s talking about until it’s too late and it’s all being put on the table.

“Honey.”

“Oh.”

The silence lingers on for a moment, speech is already slowed to a molasses state. The hour, the emotions, the slow fatigue that you let each other feel. But this goes longer than that, and he presses gently. Brave, but in the way that someone who cares is brave.

“Regret it?”

“No. Not really.”

Especially since it helped you.

“Are you uncomfortable with it?”

“…No. Not at all.”

Another space for the casual admission to sit. Falling like a leaf to the soil. It’s not laden with anything heavier. It’s just an admission of bold faced affection. You care about him, you cherish him, he’s sweet as honey to you. Whether that ever came with a declaration of ‘more than someone you wanted to smile at every day’, is a thing that hasn’t been decided at this point.

“…Do you like me calling you it?”

And for a moment his face furrows deep, those dark eyes are lit only by the glitter of windows and lamps in the street. It makes them look like they sparkle, glow. It makes them look like they’ve been filled with embers.

“…Yeah. Yeah I do.” His voice is colorful gravel, sweet rough instead of pained. You think maybe it’s frightening him to admit that to you. That maybe he yearns to be given a pet name by someone he cares for, to be more than Bob- the only name he goes by. Or Bobby- no- or Robert- court hearings, jail time, prison time, stern authority that never once tried to help.

He thinks it’s nice to be given something new, that the only history honey has is a scary moment in a restaurant that led to his friends clasping him gently on the neck and telling him he did good. He ate, and he enjoyed what he was eating, and he got to go home after a day of sun on his skin and plenty of laughter.

Honey feels good.

“Okay. Okay.” Reaffirmed, and trickling out of the scratchy speakers well above his head.

“I’ll keep calling you it, then. How about that?”

His smile still isn’t sunny, but it’s bright like fire this time. Happy, just in a tired way. “I’d like that.”

The last conversation you have with Bob before all hell breaks loose, you find yourself back at the start.

It’s blindingly sunny out, so much so that you lectured Bob about sunscreen until he laughed and reminded you - not unkindly - that bullets can’t damage his skin, so why would the sun?

It’s so blue it makes you envious, so colorful it makes you queasy with a sort of want that you’ve learned very well to push down and forget before ever taking a moment to acknowledge it. The recognition is what starts the spiral.

Instead, you enjoy how good Robert Reynolds looks in color. Drowning in the rainbow, damn near.

His clothes themselves aren’t that bright - as ever he prefers earthen or deeply subdued jewel tones - but the whole world rises to meet him. He traded a milkshake for a smoothie this time, mango pineapple and so yellow it makes you happy. His back is to that same tree, the thing that makes him safe so high up, and a new book gifted by Yelena sits with it’s bookmark next to his thigh.

In front of him, a half empty box of near-cold pizza. Robert is perfectly happy with this, cold pizza is like a delicacy to him and he’s frankly eaten far more horrifying things while in the depths of despair.

Besides, even if he were a madman that hated it, it’s not like he could ever forget how it came to him.

This is your last free day with him before the team returns, allowed to roam every inch of the building with him, to talk all day and all night entirely unbidden and without a lick of fear of discovery and ridicule. You’d chased him all across the place, had even made a game pseudo-’hide and seek’ where because you couldn’t physically be there you’d just intentionally trip systems and let him chase the noises down.

So, more like goose chase the game?

Anyway, hunger came to him quickly as it always did. Only this time it was a companion in you, so you decided to order pizza. But it’d have been rude to get something for yourself and nothing for your dear friend, so of course you had to share.

Robert had stared at the dinky little RC car with a pizza box strapped to it (and a post-it with shitty handwriting that proclaimed ‘happy lunch!’) for a solid twenty seconds before snapping out of his bafflement and delicately removing the food item. Only to have a solid giggle fit when the little electronic blasted off down the street, ripping around peoples legs aggressively enough to be a nuisance. He had no idea where it was going, and didn’t particularly care.

Now he was here, sharing a pizza with you while you both chattered away.

“Worst thing I ever saw was probably recon in Berlin. I did not need to witness the bare and wrinkled acne-prone ass of a fifty three year old Federal Minister.” You don’t even hesitate to take another bite of your slice, even if the memory makes you shudder violently.

The horror of course, is soothed by the hysterical giggles you’ve earned for your agonies.

“Oh yeah, I would not want to see that.” His head shakes aggressively, as if he were under sincere threat of being exposed to such a frightening image. His free hand taps away at his knee, the other folding up his slice before nearly putting half the entire damn thing in his mouth. He makes sure his mouth is free before continuing, “I think I’ll take accidentally vomiting on myself. At least then nobody was really surprised by me doing it.”

You snort, slouch back in your chair, feet kicked up and shaking away.

“You sure? Don’t want to hear all the awful sex noises geriatric politicians make when they think they’re good at what they do?”

“Okay so maybe I’m not hungry anymore.”

It’s said so despondently you’ve left with no choice but to bark out a loud laugh, one that has him grinning a bit shyly to himself as he reaches for yet another slice. The rate he’s eating, he’ll be done and destroying the smoothie before you’re halfway through.

“Got over the queasiness quickly.”

“What can I say, I’m uh- pretty adaptable where food is involved.”

Another bite, and then-

“I’m a little scared, right now.”

The pivot in conversation is so abrupt that you find yourself thrown into a stupor for a second. Brain blanking, whirring, their rhythmic croons rising as if turning to each other to question what the hell Bob is talking about.

“Why?”

“Because… I think I really like you, but you’re not- I didn’t meet you the way I did the others. We didn’t save each other’s lives, or go- go wandering around in each other’s brains. So it… it feels different. Like I could somehow fuck up being a friend.”

You laugh- and you really don’t mean to, you feel awful immediately. See the way his eyes catch on the lens when he hears it, you don’t know if that’s hurt bubbling up or something else. But you don’t wait long enough to find out, too panicked to find out how he took it.

“Bob. You can’t fuck it up. I promise. You’re a great friend and… and honestly..? My standards are kinda- beneath the dirt, really.

You’re knocking it out of the park as far as I’m concerned.”

“Oh yeah? Only had terrible friends, then?”

It’s a sunny day, and it’s warm, and Bob looks soft and open- and he is open. His heart has been laid in the grass this afternoon, and the team is coming back and who knows how long it’ll be before you get to speak with him again. With pizza and smoothies, with emergencies in restaurant bathrooms, with three-cereal-deluxe’s in the kitchen, with stolen moments of watching, with sad and soft and bundled up, honey and fumbling meanings.

“None. Never had even one.”

The quiet descends, and it’s easy because the pain is already there in the words. Even though there’s something disbelieving in his face, even though the shock of hearing that makes it somehow the sharper to bear.

“What..?”

And you shift before you speak. Adjust from reclining to the entire opposite, now you’re laid out with your chin on your forearms on your desk. The microphone is no longer precisely lined up with your mouth though you don’t mind, it gives you the more important angle.

Bob on the screen, as close as is comfortable for you.

“Can I… can I tell you something a little um… embarrassing?”

Pizza, smoothie, book all forgotten. Your little box of color that Bob shifts inside. Adjusting cross legged and directly facing you, his eyes boring into your eye.

Just a nod, a little one.

Your head tips to the side, face resting against arm. It feels heavy to admit, and you feel so tired before even getting the words out. You didn’t know if this will be a conversation, a talk. You didn’t know how much you’d need to clarify, what questions he would ask. But it made you tired. Tired and anxious.

And maybe it’s the exhaustion, the weariness, the anxiety, or something more that has wetness gathering in your eyes. Cloistering at lashes, walking together down a nose. Laying together in divots deep enough to stop gravity. Liquid pleas with no one nearby to help.

“…I… I don’t remember the last time I felt the sun on my skin.” A wet sniffle in, and when you blink your whole face goes hot with the scattering of grief. “Or the wind… I don’t- remember what the sea, or the city, or trees smell like. I don’t even- even remember the last time I ever felt grass beneath my feet. Or saw the sky without a screen…

I have um- I have a calendar up? In my room.” Your voice lifts awkwardly in places, lowers in others. You’re a poorly tuned violin, voice failing to strike harmony. “It only counts up to a single year, so I have tallies cut in beside it.”

As you speak, blurred mournful eyes settle on a flip clock not far off. It’s a shabby thing, all of the leaves have been dinted or scratched in some way. They’re that old, olive green with white typeface overtop, wooden stand. It doesn’t turn on it’s own anymore, so you do it yourself like a ritual each and every morning. The number displayed is eighty-three.

On the concrete wall of the bunker behind it, etched in shallow scratches:

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

“There’s seven of them now, Honey. I don’t remember what being human is like.”

And the response you get is utter silence.

It’s not deafening, it’s not shattering, it’s not cold or hostile, it’s blank and a bit warm. It’s Bob whose eyes have gone some sort of soft around the edges. It’s an expression you’ve never seen on him. It’s a man putting so many bizarre pieces together all at once. It’s the sympathetic gloss in his eyes. It’s the vague horror subdued by deep understanding. It’s sad. And it’s sweet.

“You know you could come here, right?”

Defcon one has gone off inside your chest. Everything singling down to his offer, to how sweet it is, to how terrifying it is, to how impossible it is, to how much you want to, to how much you can’t. You’d finally live your life, you’d die the moment you did it. They’d never accept you. You’d ruin Bob’s life. You’d ruin what little you have of your own life. You’d not get to come back home. You’d never be able to escape wherever they put you. You wouldn’t be able to control it. You wouldn’t know what to do—

“I- I can’t- I can’t do that, that’s- it’s too- there’s so much and it’s all- and I just-”

His eyes widen with alarm at the heel turn directly into panic that you do, but all Bob does is raise a single hand. Just one, his head pivoted to the side. He looks even sadder, his smile guilty and ashamed and aching.

“No, no. It’s okay. Don’t freak out. I wasn’t trying to scare you, or make you do anything you don’t want to or aren’t ready for. It’s just… it’s on the table, okay? I’ll never turn you away, and I wouldn’t let them either.”

And it’s just precious, and it makes you hurt so deeply inside. Like each word - well meaning and gentle - opened up and revealed a new inadequacy in you. The patience becomes as glass inside of you, and you feel it with each ragged breath you take, scraping at your bones. You’re hemorrhaging emotion.

He’s such a good friend, and such a good man. And he offers you everything you’ve ever wanted on a silver platter, ready for the taking.

And you don’t take it. Because you can’t.

“…Thanks… I’ll- I’ll consider it.”

Your tone doesn’t leave much hope for him, or yourself for that matter.

Yet he doesn’t really respond to it, not negatively. Just a little nod of his head. Another beat of silence, this time less strained or agonizing.

“Seven years..?”

Soft noise of amusement, not quite a laugh, like a sharp exhale.

“And eighty-three days.”

“How do you— I mean, food and-”

“I have my ways, like my little guy you met earlier. And using exorbitant amounts of money to keep people from asking questions. No- no one even knows this place exists, or how to get to it. I don’t even let people into the area where it’s at.”

He nods, and he still looks a little mystified. But you can also see the moment Bob chooses to put the entire conversation to the side for now. Maybe because he’s so shocked he needs to mull it over, or maybe because he can tell that it’s taken all of the wind out of your sails.

“So…” Another nod, “Weirdest thing you’ve ordered to your hide out?”

And it’s so easy, it’s just so easy. The conversation dissipating back into comfort and play, instead of shared moments of agony. Such is how it continues for hours, until exhaustion starts to itch at your eyes and the temperature drops enough that even Bob grows uncomfortable in his place. Book, box, and long empty cup are grabbed. Conversation lulls to a soft blur as he cleans up for the night, as you stretch in anticipation to finally get up.

Goodnights are said, and your worlds split from each other again.

In two different places, so far and yet so close, both of you find yourselves in your beds. Your minds consumed by the day, the week, the month, the months.

Robert feels all at once massive in his own body, like his bones were all too big for his skin. The mattress is soft, and sinking around him, and the sort of calm permeates the room that he doesn’t necessarily like. Not- not dislike. But discomfort. It’s unfamiliar to him, even the bed is a bit unfamiliar to him. He was used to couches, to damp brick, to unforgiving and splinter prone old wood. He’s been a squatter most of his life, Egyptian cotton isn’t exactly his norm.

Not yours either, he thinks.

He’s never even seen your face before, he realizes with a soft pang in his sternum. Suddenly finds himself… feeling a little awful?

But not- no- that’s not really the right word.

He’s mulling it over, Bucky had talked to him about how easy it is to get into patterns of- well he’d botched the term, something one of his old therapists had told him? Basically, Bucky thinks he reads his own emotions too negatively, and that makes it come true somehow?

So not. Not awful, not guilty.

No, sympathy maybe. Sad on your behalf.

He can still hear you those first days, when everything had gone so wrong for you. Your voice over the intercom, trembling and weak. You’d sounded unsure of yourself, and he had not idea just how right he was. Had wondered at the time if maybe you were just somewhat frail in general.

Two conversations. That’s all it took. Just two, for you to open up like a sunflower for him.

Loud, and obnoxious, snorting when you laugh, fighting him relentlessly about the best episodes of any show he’d ever happened to watch that you’d seen (it was nearly all of them). Robert refraining from telling you that he barely has a favorite, he just likes seeing you so comfortable that you’d get openly riled over his obstinance. He remembered very little of the things you’d both discussed together, snapshots and feelings. Usually high. Almost always high. Those images have new color to them, not so bleak or insignificant when you connected over them.

Made even brighter, but even bluer understanding why you knew them. Why you latched so hard to him knowing them. Because you had absolutely nothing else.

He mouths it to himself, to the open air, “seven years.”

Seven entire years, no sunlight? No wind, no nothing? Nothing? His mind careens back and forth restlessly between things like wondering who would be able to help you if you got hurt, how you hadn’t gotten sick from the isolation yet, how you got things to you- even if you gave him a vaguely ominous answer. He wonders if you’re comfortable, he knows you aren’t happy. He feels it in the way your voice- it never deflates, but it goes whisper soft when he has to leave. It’s like it pains you to be alone, now.

Of course it would. You lonely girl.

You were so nice to him, and it made him swallow thickly around the feeling of it. Talking him through his panic, offering it in the first place knowing damn well that Yelena would catch it. She notices everything about him, much less if he would have walked around with a piece of shiny metal in his ear… It’s why he didn’t, honestly. It would have been easier up front to have you play interception for him mid dinner. But doing that meant hurting you, and you were already hurting.

Now he knows. Now he knows and everything makes so much sense. That feeling in his sternum gets a little worse.

If this has been seven years… where were you before?

No wonder you were watching them, no wonder you were trying so hard to figure out how to blend in. Their sweet bug in the system.

You lay in a bed the same size as his, in a half dozen more blankets and a mountain of pillows that prevent you from touching the cold concrete walls. You’re on your side, half fetal, blinking out at the darkness. Barely any light is reaching you, from the dimmed overhead that often served as your only way of knowing whether it was day or night. On your mind is an incredibly soft man you’ve only ever seen through a screen.

You- don’t really know what to make of any of it anymore. That you’ve known him for months without chasing him off yet, that you’ve grown closer instead. That you’ve grown close enough to vomit out the secret of your reality. That you’re this pathetic thing in a dark box deep under the earth, and don’t remember what it’s like being with people anymore.

That he wasn’t disgusted, or mean. He was just… he was sad for you?

Even in the near pitch black, you cover your eyes with your hand. Feeling ashamed, feeling too exposed in a place no one else has seen in decades. You don’t want the tears to be visible, not to them, or the dust motes, or the light. Even as you sniffle and squeak sadly, and your body trembles where it lays.

He wanted you to stay with them.

God, why did you have to say no? Why are you like this?

The next three days come with a whirlwind of information, none of which makes you feel anything other than a sudden and deep seated horror.

Enmis is moving, and you’ve been given a good idea of what they want to do.

Over the many years, Earth has been invaded an absurd number of times. This in itself wasn’t the problem— not to downplay the horror and tragedy of the things that had befallen the world during. But frankly, the regular people learned quite quickly that the invasion itself wasn’t where things necessarily went wrong.

It was the aftermath. What was left.

The thing that continues to terrorize you is when the people who already hurt you get their hands on the things necessary to hurt you so much more. And with each invasion had come veritable mountains of materials far beyond Earth’s scope of technology. A bright enough mind, and god only knows what kind of horrors creeps out from the rubble.

That power plant? Easily forgotten in the mess surrounding? Myanmar had been among those to shake hands during the Accords, and one of the major economic keystones of the agreement had been to “share” whatever findings were made among the other governments following the Chitauri invasion (and then, later, the Blip). Naturally, this was bullshit. No one was willingly handing over all the nasty ugly things they had learned and built. But they’d given what they misguidedly believed to be useless scrap to Myanmar to appease their end of things.

Never underestimate a brilliant mind and a deep financial or political incentive.

They’d been on the brink of something, no one knows the exact details of what they were aiming for. But it’d been very good at compressing down and neutralizing highly unstable sources of energy. It’s believed that it might have been a component to an engine on one of the Chitauri speeders. This thing was being expanded upon massively. And now it was gone.

And it was believed it was likely meant to be a prison for your friend.

Or rather, a means to utilize him- like a tool, like a fuel source. Enmis has been hoarding space on the border between South Africa and Mozambique, swaths of uninhabited snatched up quickly enough to flag even for unskilled investigators who happened to trawl political channels in the southern axis of Africa. Materials shipped in at a nauseating pace, and reports of something alien - the same something alien from Myanmar - but much larger than it’d been originally.

They didn’t just want to replicate something similar to Bob’s serum. They just wanted him.

Of course the incredulity had been immense and immediate. They’d seen at least a fraction of what Bob can do once Sentry or - god forbid - the Void comes out to play. But that had been the point hadn’t it? And while you were in no way a scientist or engineer and therefore couldn’t verify the legitimacy of the idea… an alien machine intended to balance and suppress severely unstable energies certainly sounded like the silver bullet if created strong enough.

It wasn’t something you were comfortable making any sort of bets on.

None of them were, either.

It was as simple as that, and so you were suddenly thrown into your very first field mission.

The border between South Africa and Botswana held one of many abandoned outposts that had traded hands between private interests over the decades, the British Army, then HYDRA, then the Soviets, HYDRA again, then left entirely defunct. At least that’s how it should be.

You were familiar with overlooked facilities, though.

The place had seen an uptick in activity over the last seven months, sparse enough that no flags were raised to go stomp squatters out. Since your involvement in the New Avengers that activity had more than tripled, and it was the first good option the team had.

Bob was coming along.

You had been spectator to that fight as it went down. It was Bob’s idea, his desire to participate on the mission. Other things he’d done up until that point hadn’t been without danger, but had been of a considerably lesser caliber than people aspiring to trap - as Valentina had put it - a god in a box to turn into a miniature Dyson sphere. That had immediately been met with concerned resistance, what if they already had something in store for him? What if they had something much worse than guys with bullets ready? Was he prepared for the level of violence necessary, up until this point they’d never made him actually fight so much as remove obstacles with frightening efficiency. It’d been raucous, and you’d watched as they drowned him out of a conversation about him entirely.

And you’d watched the twitch in his hands, the way he squeezed them white and then diverted that energy to the leather straps faithfully bound around his wrists. The twitch of his nose and eye.

You don’t think anyone had heard him shout that loudly before, at least- none other than Valentina.

“Stop! Just- just… Stop. You- you don’t get to decide this for me. Maybe you’re right about all of it. Everything you’ve said, but that means I should be there. I know I’m not- not good with guns or fighting yet, but I’m not a child and this is about me now. I get to have a say in whether or not I go.

I’m- I’m going.”

And that had been the end of it.

He was still in crude armor, barely personally tailored to him in that it fit but nothing beyond that. You’d mustered the courage to ask, and were told there was conflict of interest occurring in the design department for Bob’s new uniform. A proper uniform, Yelena had emphasized.

She didn’t take particularly well to the gold spandex, then.

Now, they were all crawling within the guts of the South Africa-Botswana compound, seemingly abandoned and yet only recently. People had been here, and quite a few of them for an extended period of time. Pantries had been filled and then emptied, crates of supplies brought in and the shells abandoned. Parts for vehicles - both land and flying - and an ass load of the typical detritus you find from weapon assembly, use and maintenance.

You were all on target, you were just too late.

“Well, this was fun and pointless.” John’s voice crackles through into the headphones clasped around your ears. He sounds mildly annoyed, though you suspect most of the edge was taken off just by getting out into the field to do something. He wasn’t particularly the kind of guy who favored relaxation.

“We don’t know that yet, Walker. Keep looking.” Bucky, long suffering as ever.

“What are uh- what should we be looking for?” As sweet as ever.

“Most likely any files, even scraps of paper that seem important. Information tends to be the first and most sloppily destroyed when people are in a rush.” Ava was quite familiar with that particular error, considering her upbringing. Lazily flickering grayscale cameras reveal to you the way she turns her head at him, something like a reassuring look exchanged.

None of them were opposed to Bob’s presence, but you’d noticed that Ava was quietly enthusiastic to have him on board.

In a strange way… you’d found that Ava related to him the most.

Everyone here had their fair share of suffering, their reasons for attaching to Bob and to each other. All of them were equally important, and diverse enough to pique your interest. The thing about Ava and Bob…

They were the only two on the team with powers. The rest were just… people. Very deadly, very trained, stronger and faster, more exceptional. But they were still just people. They didn’t come with the struggles of having so much extra offloaded onto their shoulders compared to the rest.

For Bob, his mental state split rogue into their own entities. For Ava, her body ripping itself apart constantly.

You think in a way, much like she enjoys him most in the quiet moments- she finds some sense of camaraderie in their shared extracurricular struggles. Or maybe hope, that if he can handle it- even with all that’s wrong with him. There might be a day she can too, without a suit clinging to her body forever.

The furthermost room in the intelligence floor of the compound terminates on a central security room for all other areas long abandoned. It doesn’t take long for them to end up there, cursory scrawls of their crude medical and research wings had been more than enough for them to know it was a fruitless search, and left them with their final option here.

It was old, gray and yet browning with rust in places. It looked like there was an attempt to clean or update, parts of panels ripped up and the guts turned out for something new- but renovation had barely gotten off the ground before they made too much fuss and drove themselves out of the region. In all, it’s the most likely to still function and therefore is the best chance at any sort of progress beyond the fact that Bob might be in some sort of danger.

Bucky, Yelena, and you are left to be in control of this sequence of events. The two of them were well trained in espionage and as the decades turned over into the technological revolution, their skillsets needed to encompass the most basic understanding of electronics and their interfaces. It was a blessed revelation, because you were certain that aside from Ava absolutely no one else had any hope of helping. In John’s case, likely to break it.

“I need the central computer turned online, please. The- the entire system will run through it and I sh-should be able to handle the rest from here. If not I’ll tell you otherwise.” An awkward beat, “…Thanks.”

Bucky began to move without fanfare, a goal was given to him and he’d complete it. And frankly, you were counting your blessings that he wasn’t reacting to you beyond acquiescing to your needs. Yelena on the other hand- she wasn’t being obstinate. But you could see the face she made as you stammered over your words, whatever unreadable expression only deepening at your frankly depressing gratitude expressed.

She wasn’t particularly enthused by you, still. And- oddly- her eyes found Bob as she proceeded for the same place Bucky was poking at buttons and flipping switches.

You bit back a cringe of pain seeing the rapid increase of boredom in John and Alexei, who were both clearly itching for something more than playing a game of telephone with them in order to slowly break open a computer and maybe download some corrupted files to pick apart. You didn’t blame them, they were warriors through and through. It didn’t ease your anxiety about getting this done as efficiently as possible and escaping their hair, though.

“Bucky. Stop just pressing buttons, you don’t know what any of these do.”

“She told us to turn it on, I’m trying to figure it out.”

“Did you think it was just going to be some random button on the face with nothing marking it?”

“Well, Lena, villains in the real world don’t typically label their stuff with things like ‘button of self doom’ and ‘the sensitive details of our evil master plan’. So I’m trying to figure it out.”

“Are you kidding me!? That’s all they do. That’s- that’s like their favorite thing. Have you seen what HYDRA used to do back in the day? They had a stamp and everything!”

The two of them are mid-sibling argument as Yelena crosses around the backside of the terminal that holds the central computer of the entire compound. You watch her squat down, fidgeting around with something the camera doesn’t quite see. You don’t need to, though. You can see when the computer gutters, then comes crawling to life with the sort of weariness only an ancient computer stubbornly refusing to die can muster.

“Yes! Thank you, that’s perfect. Exactly what I needed.” Your enthusiastic cry is matched by the harmonic sing-song that explodes up your brainstem and rockets about inside your skull. Clattering enough to almost distract as you let them dive forth with abandon. A new task, like enrichment so they don’t start tormenting you out of boredom.

What you miss, in your enthusiasm, is the look of mild surprise the New Avengers share with each other. Somewhat knocked off kilter in a not unpleasant way by the abruptly loud sincerity.

Unfortunate how it would be cut short so quickly.

You can feel them being funneled into a labyrinth, and the way they blast forth with abandon- completely undeterred, and in no way exhausted by the clearly deliberate attempts to trap them and keep them from reaching their destination. They flood like endorphins, overwhelm coding with savagery. They squeak, chirp, coo as resistance breaks down around them.

And then, you are met with hot white agony.

The power in the bunker flickers, it dims then rises to a blinding sharpness. You can hear them all shriek and even from a world away it is piercing to your ears. You yourself scream, and beyond that you vaguely hear some sort of alarm.

It doesn’t matter, as you fold in fetal and clasp your hands around your ears.

It feels as if it lasts forever, and no time at all. And then you’re left with a deafening silence only broken by your ragged breathing and the pounding in your chest.

Sweating, clammy, your eyes open. Your screens are not your own anymore, and weakly you hear them chirp among themselves with despair. When you look up, you feel very alone, and very afraid.

WE SEE YOU.

#marvel #mcu #bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #bob thunderbolts #bob x reader #robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x you #sentry x reader #sentry #the void #thunderbolts

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convictsinterim · 1 month ago

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Key Differences in Prime Earth (PE)/New Earth (NE) Jason's

Jason's own cognizance and awareness as a whole has been canned within PE. Jason worked in NE because of his metatextual awareness of the never-ending slaughter of victims. People created specifically to be statistics, to brush aside. That's why he confused some people who read the story—it's a Batman comic where nameless people die all the time, it's a part of the genre. Why are you challenging the genre?

This is obviously absent from PE Jason, down to Jason having fully lost his greater awareness or purpose as a character. He's nearly aimless. He's more like Dick than he has ever been, in that he is a complacent yes-man; sure he'll kick his feet or argue or get beat-on when times are tough and Bruce needs to let some steam off, but he does capitulate. His attitude about Bruce has also shifted more towards Dick's as well—he does not recognize what Bruce does as abusive at all. He does criticize Bruces actions but he's so quick to forgive/forget that nothing sticks.

Jason NE's entire purpose as a character was to actively challenge The Batman and Bruce, in what was one of the most brilliant decisions to be made with character resurrections—he wasn't just some ally who came back, he was Bruce and Batmans fucking son. He was Robin. Now he's Batmans antagonist.

Jason PE has lost that greater purpose. It's why he is so aimless and a part of what makes people so sick of him, enough so to get blisteringly vitriolic as to crow on and on about him. He is toothless, he is fangless, he does not challenge Bruce in a way that matters. He fakes Cobblepots death, Bruce puts him into a coma, and Jason and Bruce hug it out later. Zero emotional resonance. No meat at all to this story. Bouts of tonal whiplash delivered with the kind of writing that bores you to sleep.

Jason NE was disruptive to the Pro Status Quo propaganda comics churns out all the time, Jason actively centered the so-called 'collateral' damage, the statistics, the never-changing cyclical nature of Gotham. How he died 18 years ago real-time, and 3 years ago in-universe time, and nothing at all has changed—and in fact there's a new lamb for the slaughter.

Jason PE is now part of the pro status-quo propaganda. Just as Dick always has been. The capitulator. The same as everyone else. His sparkle is gone </3

Jason PE is defanged and devoid of any sort of real politics; internally he rarely delves into the quandaries and thoughts that Jason NE did. He doesn't even have the core of Jason NE's concerns—child sex trafficking, rape, drug rings, the structure of organized crime and the desire to control it, Jason PE has no greater goals. Genuinely honest to fucking god it's like he's never wanted anything a day in his damn life other than Bruce to be niceys to him. Jason NE also wanted the niceys but he had more conviction than that god damnit xD

Jason NE was refusing to squander his own morals, his own ethics, his own convictions, in chase of some false magnanimous makeup. He knew it wasn't going to happen and he didn't care to neuter himself to get it. He tried reaching out when he could. He was strangely respectful to them, even when making disparaging comments his high regard shone through. His disregard for the bats comes from a philosophical standpoint far more than a personal one. The personal issues he has with Bruce are part of it, yes, but it's bigger than that and always has been. His Robin tenure was rife with his views! He was doubtful and unhappy with Bruce AS ROBIN because he did not feel Bruce was accomplishing enough or doing enough.

Jason PE seems to just… He hasn't killed in the better part of a decade. He killed that one singular abusive dad and that's… about it really. His attitude towards death and the act of killing is (un)shockingly unexplored.

Jason PE doesn't have a super explored philosophy. Because RHATO is a hackjob. Other writers have touched on it, briefly, like the one who wrote about Jason PE pondering desk-murderers, or how Jason PE is in Task force Z, or elseworlds like the Boy Wonder one. Beastworld, too. Though none of these, not a single one, is reminiscent of Jason NE. All of them try to psychoanalyze Jason PE. Boy Wonder and Beastworld especially were reductive lenses on Jason as a whole.

Broadly speaking, Jason has just been victim to the corporate-sloppification, enshittification, sludge that has been rebirth for the bat-colony. Everyone knows what Tom Taylor's done to Dick's characterization. The superficiality, the even less-than-skin-deep writing. That. That is where Jason PE is at. Just with more whump/angst material, instead of happy go lucky drivel. They're like two sides of the same shit coin at the moment.

Speaking of Rebirth as a whole, there is also an acute risk-aversion evident. There hasn't been a single damn thing in DC like NML since it came out. A year long arc that effects literally fucking everything in Gotham. I cannot even begin to imagine DC publishing something like that current day. Can you imagine someone trying to get that story greenlit?

Jason NE was written by taking a huge fucking risk. The UTH story ends with Bruce being wrong. Having failed. There is no third option. He just failed this time, and he is culpable. Bruce died (yet another fake out but still) for a long time. Dick was fucking Batman. They switched Robins. Tim got a new Identity and kept it. BFTC was a huge risk to take as a story. It sucked fucking shit, but that's because Tony Daniels wrote it. And then Morrison took another risk and went back to fucking Camp-Batman but used Jason NE as the vehicle for that.

Even when Jason NE was being narratively… pummeled for existing, he was still being written with teeth. Jason PE can't leave tooth marks or claw marks on anything. He does not have the implements to do so. He just has scramble to hold on while he's always slipping away. All Jason PE is, is soft-underbelly.

#jason todd #prime earth #new earth #my meta #this is for you lau #btw for anyone who doesnt know me #i dare you to try and fucking shit stir on this post. i will eviscerate you #do not for a second think my replies are a democracy. your comment will get deleted and you will be efficiently blocked.#dc #sighs. i have the exploding hammers ready for any bad actors. lets do this

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gazelles-gazelles · 5 months ago

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Adora and perfection

Perfection has been demanded of women for ages, not just as an adjunct, but as a price we pay for existing. We’re supposed to fill our predetermined roles to the fullest, with no hesitation and no error. It can take many forms across history (e.g. the angle in the house) but they all echo the same idea: a woman’s value must be tied to unattainable ideals. A perpetual feeling of worthlessness. It’s a tool of oppression, a mechanism of power.

before we connect all that with Adora, let’s settle on a specific definition of what perfection is, according to aristotle:

1. which is complete — which contains all the requisite parts.

2. which is so good that nothing of the kind could be better.

3. which has attained its purpose.

Adora embodies every single one of these. (1) She’s been conditioned through childhood to always be complete, competent, flawless, errorless, perfect. (2) And not just that, not just to be good, not to be better, but to be the best, no one should come before her, the first place is the only place where she can reside, losing is simply unimaginable. (3) And finally, she had always been used to attain a purpose, or in the show’s language, a destiny. Whether as a horde soldier or as she-ra, whether by shadow weaver or by light hope.

Adora is perfection incarnate! Or rather, supposed to be, in every facet.

Beauty: to me, the original first-ones-made she-ra form can be used as a metaphor for the impossibly unrealistic beauty standards that had always shackled women. She’s warrior, yes, but she must also be beautiful. (1) She’s in gold, the most precious of metals, and too heavy for armour to ever be made purely out of it, she wears white, the color of pure and clean, even when she’s in battlefield, even when there’s dirt and blood to stain, her hair is free and unbound and desirable, she glows, inhumanly so, like a star, not a person. (2) And even with all that, the worst thing is that she’s so clearly not Adora, not a reflection of Adora’s authentic self, but an exaggerated contortists image of what she must look like, she’s not Adora.

Skill: women have to be great to be good, in every room, and Adora was always expected to be great. Since she’s a soldier, it translates into military settings: she’s supposed to be the strongest in the room, the smartest in the room, the simple undoubtable best. Every attack must be calculated to the point, devoid of error or mistakes, every plan must work, every hit must land, every simulation must be won, every enemy defeated, every power mastered, every lesson, every training, everything she does, must be perfect.

Behaviour: double binds. A woman must be pretty but not too pretty, nice but not too nice (sound familiar?). Adora spent the entire show being squashed by dualities that contradict each other, she must be powerful to defeat her enemies but not powerful enough to usurp her superiors, smart to be successful but not smart enough to realise her abuse, kind to save the world but not kind enough to foster her own relationship, she must be strong but obedient, a leader but also a follower, a weapon and a shield.

Of course this is all horrifying. No one can live like this, Adora tried, but the mental and physical damage she suffered from would’ve destroyed her if it weren’t for her support system.

Adora’s story is cautionary tale about the horrors of perfection. No human is perfect, so the demand of perfection is literally dehumanisation. Adora is dehumanised, objectified, used as a tool(s) to achieve other people’s goals. And for the longest time, she didn’t even realise it, she has been abused and conditioned into truly believing that perfection is the price she must pay to exist, until she doesn’t! Until the unconditional love of catra and glimmer and bow allows her simply just exist.

#my favourite protagonist ever #Catradora through feminist lens #adora #shadow weaver #light hope #catra #glimmer #bow #spop #she-ra #she ra and the princesses of power #analysis #writing #Mine

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ayayiiie · 1 year ago

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Make me love you

Song playing: Taeyeon - Make me love you.

Pairing: fuck boy! Heeseung x good girl! Reader. (Feat Enha)

TW: cursing, mentions of sex, drugs, smoking, throwing up. (Y'all is Heeseung very a bad boy in this one? :3)

Genre: hints of angst, fluff

Words: ~ 13k

Trope:

Lee Heeseung wants you real bad. So what? He needs to prove how much he's worthy.

- « Don't you want to claim me as yours baby girl? »

- « You will only bring me problems Lee. »

- « You don't know til you try. Look at me, ready to give my entire self to you. »

« Then.. Take me far away. »

하나.

« Shadows come from the light in the darkness

In times that are even lonelier »

He was foully beautiful, has a disgustingly pretty smile and a diabolically angel face. He was as hot as Sukuna Ryomen, smart like Chrollo Lucifer, toned like Eren Yeager and flirty (and annoying) as Usui Takumi.

Every one of his steps scream power and dominance, people in town were obliged to recognize his god-like features.

Lee Heeseung was a piece of wonder. He was the personification of the Great Chinese Wall. Well, for others it means he was one of the seven wonders, his friends being the others six. For you he was illigible, like a void devoid of colors, feelings, words. Looking at him was like walking on the Great Chinese Wall. Infinite stairs, a never ending pathway, long exhausting adventure where you can get lost easily.

You never knew how to understand Lee Heeseung.

And people were here, yelling at you for not being liquified by his unbelievable visuals.

You were not attracted to Lee Heeseung.

And people were here once again, crying about you not having a good eyesight because who in the world would tell a big NO NO to THE Lee Heeseung ?

Despite his apparence, one thing you knew for sure was that he was the synonym of troubles. And that compensated his visuals. Lee Heeseung was a big red flag.

Vandalizing walls, driving fast past three in the morning, drinking heavily almost every night, skipping class (even though he always passed his exams with flying colors which confused you), smoking, sniffing drugs you never heard the name before, fucking some random women of every age everywhere.

Yeah, for you he was the worst of the worst, and you sure would not (in this peaceful life of yours) like to have an affair or everything as minuscule as it is with him.

You knew that Lee Heeseung had no interests in you either and it was perfectly perfect for you.

둘.

« The hand that was carefully held out

I couldn’t hold it, I’ve only hesitated but »

« Hey, did you heard that? Lee Heeseung has won the cars’ racing yesterday!

- Listen Young-Hee, you do know I don't give a freak about him right? This man screams problems.

- But don't deny he's attractive! Plus Seo-Hyun had a one night stand with him last week, are you realizing? THE Park Seo-Hyun?

- Please why do you look so interested about that? What is incredible about this?

- Oh please Y/N, we ALL know that Seo-Hyun has a purity ring given by her dad! She promised chastety and here she was, fucking with Lee Heeseung!

- And so? It's something between her, her father and Heeseung, what do I have to do about that?

- YOU COULD BE NEXT IN LINE! »

The strawberry milk you were drinking went out of your mouth to someone's shirt. Eyes widening in both shock and embarrassment, you quickly excuse yourself, not even looking up to cross eyes with them and lend them a tissue while repeatedly apologizing.

« I'm sorry I'm sorry, I didn't attend to do that! »

The bell ringing was a lucky sign for you to sprint directly to your class. As you both pant from the little course, you suddenly hear a loud chuckle from Young-Hee.

« Girl that's what I call being "purged"! she said in between laughs.

- Shut up that was embarassing! And it's your fault! You did it on purpose right?!

- I will keep doing it to see those faces you make! She laughs loudly, people staring.

- Hee! » you yell, trying to grab her arm. But she was faster and quickly went to her seat.

Let's say you couldn't focus on the entire class. Your mind was busy spacing out and thinking about the conversation earlier. Of course you knew that Park Seo-Hyun was the famous virgin of the campus, because everyone knew that. And the fact she wore proudly her ring was her way of showing her engagement !

« You could be next in line! »

This sentence keeps repeating in your head like a malicious mentra and you can't help but to imagine Lee Heeseung devouring you with his eyes. As much as you hated to admit it, he was indeed handsome. But that was a facade to you. Because deep inside, you kept telling yourself that he was someone bad, manipulative and who had no interest in women's feelings. That's what you hate the most. Your dad always made sure to show his love to your mom, so it sure was a big shock when you learn that some men were beating and mistreating their girlfriends or wives. The perfect image of love just crumbled down and you couldn't help but to be on your guard ever since. Especially with people like Lee Heeseung. People categorized you as the « girl talking to only girls » because you always talk with girls only. Not that you despise men, you just don't feel like talking to them and you were perfectly fine with it. Even if some dare to approach you, you woulk kindly answer them and then dash as fast as possible, avoiding the interaction like plague.

Indeed, you did not hate men, you just never knew how to talk to them.

Beside your big brother of two years older your dad and to any men in your small family, talking to the opposite genre was a real challenge for you. Sweaty hands, swifty gazes, mumbling and rosy cheeks. You hated making a fool of yourself and indirectly, men were making you this way. You discovered later that you had heterosocial anxiety. « Good » you told yourself ironically while rolling your eyes, this means talking to men was making you nervous.

But like all stories, there was an exception, a boy in who you could talk to without stuttering and being insecure about your side profile, about the way you would smile, all the mimicks you had. He was your childhood neighbour, Kim Sunoo.

Maybe because he looked less scary and more welcoming, or the way he would smile and his eyes would form two little crescents. Maybe because he seemed more boyish ? Kim Sunoo was the only boy you could talk without being feared of being judged. For you, he will always be the little boy who shared strawberries his grandma prepared for after-school snack. He will always be your super adventures’ companion in your garden.

So it sure was painful when Kim Sunoo transferred from public school to private. Being children, you did not keep in touch and never saw each other ever since. But Sunoo gifted you with a braided bracelet. It was synonym of you guys’ friendship as he too, had one. His mother would show you pics of him, he would send her some after he finished his class, in secondary school. His peace sign beside his wink and little smile would bring a grin to your face too, somewhat relieved he was doing so well.

As you were thinking deeply of your childhood friend, a hand came crashing on your face.

« Young-Hee! I swear you're a dead woman!

- Listen, it's lunch and I'm hungry, stop thinking about Lee Heeseung and let's go to the cafet! she crosses her arms with a devilish smirk plastered on her face.

- I wasn't even thinking about him, cut the drama. »

The walk to the cafeteria was filled with laughters and a warm mood. Tray in hands, you were searching for a place to sit. It seems like today was filled with students as the only places you found were in the middle of two groups, hastily chatting. Not even two minutes after Young-Hee and you started eating, a breaking sound was heard on the other side of the cafet.

« LEE HEESEUNG YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH ! » was heard by a female voice.

There, was standing Park Seo-Hyun, infront of a sitting Lee Heeseung. It looked like she threw her glass at him within her tray of food. You see how unbothered he looked, even with food and water all over his clothes. Seo-Hyun scoffed at his lack of reaction and quickly walk out of the cafet, her two best friends following her. Shrugging, you turn back and start eating like nothing happened.

« Oh my god, what do you think did just happen?

- Well, this is what happens when you go inside Lee Heeseung’s circle. That’s why I don’t want anything with him, you said, unimpressed while digging in your tomatoes (I’m sorry for those who don’t like them 😭)

- But don’t you want to know? I loooove gossips hehe…

- If you want to investigate it’s without me you already know that, you say, unbothered.

- But please, she said, a tiny pout on her lips and giving her best doe eyes.

- I really hate you, you know? You sighed while shaking your head.

- Yey! I love you bestie! » She smiles happily then proceeds to swallow everything she had in her mouth.

For you, it was none other than some childish things, without harm. At least, that’s what you expected.

셋.

« My heart already trembles, I keep

getting scared

On this night when you secretly held out

your hand »

After disposing your tray in the conveyor belt, Young-Hee excitedly locked your cubital fossa together and has speed towards the almost empty hallways.

« Where are we going? You tell just loud enough for her to listen.

- In front of their class, Heeseung and Seo-Hyun are classmates, didn’t you know? She said making sure to be discreet and to look everywhere.

- I’m not such a big gossip girl like you Hee, you know that, you watched her getting agitated.

- It’s not some gossip, it’s general knowledge Y/N!

- As if, you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes.

- Let’s hide here! » Young-Hee said as she sweeps you both behind a big pillar glued to the classroom’s wall.

Peeking through the marble, you quietly observe your surroundings. Seo-Hyun was in the classroom with her friends, talking angrily about something you couldn’t hear.

« This situation kinda stress me Hee, you said playing with your bracelet. The tropes were so lose they could ripped anytime. It was a habit of you to fidget with it when you were nervous.

- Shh, I’m trying to decipher what they’re saying », she shushed you, looking attentively at the girls.

You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes a second time. Young-Hee was really persistent when she wanted to be but you couldn’t blame her, she lifted up your moral numerous times with this personality of hers.

« I fucking hate his guts! He promised me so many things but at the end what?! I gave my fucking virginity to an asshole like him?! Screams Seo-Hyun.

- He doesn’t deserve you Seo, trust us, said one of her friends.

- But Chae I gave him my v card, my dad’s gonna kill me if he learn that.

- You can just wear the ring again, he wouldn’t know.

- The whole school knows it! No way he will not be aware!

- Seo, calm down first. Instructed Chae-Won.

- I can’t-

- Y/N! Hide quick! » whispered-yelled Young-Hee.

Panicked, you rapidly hide behind the pillar, pressing your body as far as you could.

« What’s happening? » You whisper to your friend, completely lost.

Hee only gave you her big eyes as a response and gestured you that someone was coming. You didn’t think two times about it and just nodded.

« What are you gonna do Hee? She’s super mad at you and look at you, you’re covered in tomatoes’ sauce. You both hear a man voice talking.

- Huh? She took my hoodie when we did it last week, I just want to take it back, and I need to change clothes too. You could recognize Heeseung’s voice at the same time steps were coming your way.

- You’re unbelievable man! Exclaimed the other guy with him, chuckling in disbelief.

- I know, Heeseung only replied. You could practically hear and imagine his smirk as they open the door.

- What do you want bastard?! Screams Seo-Hyun.

- Wow, I didn’t came to be assaulted. I just want to take my hoodie back, I left it at yours last week.

- Already threw it in the trash can. She spat bitterly.

- Ouch, » murmured Young-Hee.

You looked at Young-Hee but didn’t expect her to make a silly face so you accidentally snort without realizing you both could be in big troubles if they happen to know you were here.

« Hey, did you heard that? Said the friend accompanying Heeseung.

- Hear what Jake? Questioned Heeseung.

- I heard some muffles over there, let me check. »

Panic immediately took possession of your body as you hurriedly run and turn in the near corridor.

« Hey! Wait! » You hear from the other side as you run endlessly trying to turn in the maximum corridors possible to left him.

Finally arriving at the back of your school, you both pant loudly, trying to catch your breath.

« That was freaking close! For once Mr Hwang’s running class weren’t useless! Pant Young-Hee between each inspirations taking.

- Listen carefully Hee, you stand fully up as your hands were resting on your knees to catch your breath, last time. I swear, last time forever.

- But they didn’t catch us, I’m sure he didn’t even see our faces! » She exclaimed feigning innocence.

You frown. If Jake was running behind you, he must have seen two figures at least. Plus, girls. You subconsciously touch your wrist to feel your bracelet when nothing brush your fingertips. Imagining the worst, you look down only to see it gone.

« Shit shit shit, don't tell me it fell off while we were running? You mumbled.

- What happened? asks Young-Hee, concerned.

- My bracelet fell off when we ran Hee, I need to search for it, it's a gift!

- Wow, it's okay, let's go back and see if it's there. »

You then walk the opposite way, following exactly each corridor you took. You were stressing, losing the only memory of your friend was the last thing you wanted to face right now. And as you kept approaching the classroom, your fear only increased.

« It's nowhere to be found Y/N... said your companion, empathic.

- Maybe it just fell right next to the pillar? I will take a look, you finally sighed, feeling hopeless.

- Okay, I'll search in this area over there, » she pointed the opposite direction with her finger.

As you were searching, you failed to notice a stare on you, silently watching every move you made.

You finally concluded after fifteen minutes that it was lost and you couldn't do anything about it. To feel guilty and sad were an understatement to what you were feeling right now. This bracelet was your anti-stress and now it was gone.

넷.

« Make me kiss you

Ma-make me kiss you »

The end of the day came up rather quickly and you were now packing your things in your backpack. Young-Hee bided you goodbye earlier because she has tennis sessions so today you had to walk back home alone. It was actually great for you as you long for loneliness and peace sometimes. It eases your mind, not that being with Young-Hee create headaches but she was a little bit too loud sometimes.

As you exit the hallway of your university, someone secretly hold their phone up and snap a picture of you walking away. Shuffling it back in their pocket, they act like nothing happened and watch your back disappears.

« So you’re like that huh?! Taking pic of someone without their consent?! » Screams a girl.

You abruptly turn around to see the scrap. There you see again Seo-Hyun and Heeseung. Looks like she was yelling at him for something he did.

« Does it concern you? Just because we fucked doesn’t mean we’re dating idiot, » he spoke calmly, his chin lightly raised alongside a brow.

Reminding you of your « mission » with Young-Hee, you can’t help but to approach the scene quietly, making sure you’re discreet. As you hide behind a spot you continue to listen.

« Then you shouldn’t have promised me so many things that night! Was it nothing to you?! She angrily tells.

- And what are these things? Because I don’t remember any actually, he answers casually. He was used to it.

- You told me you will make me feel special, that I’m not like the others and that I’ll be the only one! At this point she was just stomping her foot on the ground brutally.

- Oh. Yeah it was in the heat of the moment. Never actually think this way. Plus I was drunk so I didn’t really paid attention to what I was saying, » he said once again as if it really didn’t bother him to see her on the verge of beating him up.

*clap*

Your eyes widened at the loud clap your heard and you were sure it came from her hand entering in collision with his cheek. « Must have hurt » you told yourself in your head.

« Fucking asshole, I’m gonna denounce you for what you’ve done and also for taking a pic of Y/N in secret! » she lastly said before storming away.

You slowly realized what she said and confusion took all over your mind.

« Wait, what? He took a secret pic of me? » You wondered in your mind.

- Stop hiding. I know you’re here, you hear a masculine voice calling, broking your self-thought bubble.

- Oh shit, you mumbled, it was over now, you were discovered, umh, hi haha, I was just about to go haha, you said, the uneasy feeling slowly climbing in your whole body as you step out of your hiding spot, walking awkwardly like a robot with a grimace.

- Really? You do know it’s not really polite to listen to others in secret yeah? »

Lee Heeseung grabs onto your shoulder, the scene particularly comic as he turns your around.

As you face him, your eyes immediately locked together and you can’t help but to feel intimidated by his gaze. It was teasing, almost mocking and shockingly traversing your entire core. You feel naked under him and once again you remind yourself why you hated talking to men this much. Instead of his uniform’s shirt he was wearing a plain oversized t-shirt of color white, he probably changed clothes after receiving the food on himself at the cafet. His black hair were swaying by the wind, softly falling on his mischievous eyes. God he was perfect.

« So? Kitten got your tongue angel? He tilted his head, waiting for an answer.

- Don’t… call me that, it sounds naughty coming from your mouth, you said looking finally down, not supporting his gaze.

- Oh really? That’s what y’all say, he chuckled slowly moving forward, but y’all love it in bed.

- And you talk about me listening to conversations in secret but you are not so good yourself, taking pic like a creep of someone without their consent, » you spat, your tone harsher than you intended too and your eyes piercing his when you lift your head. As much as you wanted to deny it, your cheeks were already red and your heartbeat as quick as the speed of light.

In response, he smirks, clearly pleased by what he’s seeing and hearing in front of him. You tried not to take in details his black hair perfectly styled as well as his perfect face and soft creamy skin. You then notice how bad Seo-Hyun had slapped him as a red mark was clearly visible on his left cheek.

« I don’t really like brats but with you I think I can make some efforts, he shrugged and came even more close, I don’t want to be harsh with you baby it would break my heart, he whispered, his hand coming up to brush against your chin.

- Who said you could touch me? Delete this pic as soon as possible and leave me alone, you’re carrying troubles, you sweep his hand away and step back.

- And what if I don’t? What are you gonna do? His cocky grin never leaving his face.

- I… I will report it to the police! You stumble over your words, quickly regretting the way you look so weak in front of him.

- Will you? When you know that my dad is a powerful CEO? In fact, the most powerful of the country? » He retorts, a feeling of satisfaction filling him up when your eyes widen up.

You sigh then frown at him and quickly dash away, not wanting to talk further. It was infuriating you that he was always winning. You hated him so much.

« We can find a way if you’re willing to be mine!

- Never!! » you shout loud enough for him to hear you, only to hear a laugh as a response.

- How would you react if I tell you that you’re the reason I bring troubles Y/N? » Heeseung finally sighed watching your silhouette ventures between the buildings.

You let out a scream after making sure nobody was around you.

« This freaking Lee Heeseung!! You and your bad mouth will go down in hell I swear! You angrily said as you stomp your feet.

- Pff. »

You turn around as soon as you heard something. Scanning your surroundings you search the source of the noise.

« Is someone there? You ask, unsure and on your defensive.

- Not at all, act like I’m not here, answered a voice.

- Are they dumb or dumb? I just yelled my frustration and you’re telling me to continue embarrassing myself? You thought, low key judging them. Where are you? Show yourself. » (Frozen enwnkzjwnz)

After a few minutes, a boy finally step out and came infront of you. He was wearing a white t-shirt and by the look of the small pink stain on it you immediately remembered what happened this morning.

« Oh, you said taken aback.

- Like you said « Oh », he laughed, thank you for customizing my t-shirt, I didn’t know it was a tradition in your uni, he looked down at it, a small smile on his face.

- Huh… sorry… you didn’t had any clothes to change? You nervously ask.

- Oh no, I’m new here and I needed to get my dorm’s keys after school so nope.

- I’m sorry you had to walk like this the entire day. Uhm… » you said, hesitant.

In fact you were hesitating, one part of you wanted to go home, feeling the urge to burry yourself alive because a male was talking to you but yet another part was feeling too guilty to just go and you feel like you had to forgive for what you’ve done.

« Yes? He looked at you, a soft smile appearing on his face.

- Do you want to go to the cafe shop with me? We can go and drink some chocolate milk? I want to apologize properly.

- Uh, it will be coffee milk for me, he laughed, but yeah sure, » he smiles.

You couldn’t help the dumbfounded expression on your face as you heard his answer. « Mr is picky I see. » you thought to yourself. Well, you thought you said it in your head but his laugh caught you off guard, WAIT DID YOU JUST ASKED A BOY OUT ?

« I heard you, and I personally do not think that I’m picky, I just have my preferences, » he says proudly, mischievous eyes looking straight right through yours.

You just shake your head, already embarrassed about the fact he heard your thoughts.

As you both make your way to the cafe shop, you learn that his name is Sunghoon Park. He was currently an ice skater and was preparing for his national competition. As a big fan of Yuzuru Hanyu, you couldn’t help but to feel interested in his career’s story.

« So you learned ice skating when you were 10? That’s quite amazing. Do you have any friends? You ask without really knowing how you could talk to him this easily.

- Mh.. only one, her name is Eunseo, she is the only girl who dared to come to me when we were young, he shrugged looking unbothered.

- Oh, were you the only boy? You keep asking, trying to match his walking pace, your voice weakening as you saw the unbothered look on his face, were you boring? Did you forced him to go with you? And what if he didn’t wanted to?

- In my club yes, it was kinda lonely back then before I met Junhwan, he notices that you were having a hard time keeping up with him so he slowed down, quickly scanning your smaller figure with a glance.

- I see I see, you nod rapidly, your eyes that were on him now looking in front of you, throat suddenly dry as the conversation touched its end.

- And you? What’re you doing on a daily basis? He raised an eyebrow towards you.

- Me? Haha nothing as interesting as you, I’m a simple girl, you try to brush the subject away, surprised that he kept the conversation on going.

- Really? Aren’t you working at an animals center? He opens the door for you as you were now arrived.

- How… how do you know that? You enter, waving a hand to thank him.

- A friend of a friend, » he grins once more, passing before you towards the counter.

« What in the world..? » you thought again, gradually joining him as your mind overflowed with thoughts, finding him kinda creepy.

While you guys took commands, you quickly paid for both drinks before he could do anything, muttering a shy « it’s on me ». Unfortunately for you, you missed the way his eyes shone as his heart skipped a beat. You then found a table in a corner, near a window offering you the view of a busy crowd. The more you were thinking of the situation you were right now, the more you’re nervous. Endless fears and thoughts invading your head as you look around in an alarmed state, your knees automatically shaking under the table.

« You seem to have a lot of thoughts in your head. Every time you’re quiet, I’m quite sure you’re thinking of something, he softly puts his chin on his palm as his elbow is resting on the table, his attention entirely on you, making things even harder for you to support the awkward atmosphere you were feeling alone.

- Yes, I actually think a lot haha, not you? Your gaze darting away from his stare.

- Depends, he responds, eyes not blinking and continuing to stare right into your orbits.

- Number 38! You perked, reacting to your command’s number.

- Will be right back, » you stand up and walk rather awkwardly feeling his intense gaze on your back.

You went to grab your drink and thanked the woman. On your way back, you notice a frown adorning Sunghoon's soft features as he was staring at his phone. Not wanting to bother him, you sat down quietly, sipping on the sweetness awaited, immediately calming your stress. He quickly put his phone back into his pocket before looking at you, eyes softening upon seeing your content eyes. You were zoning out, so did not notice his eyes staring at you.

« It's unfair really, he managed to mumbled, a grin evident on his face as he finally looks away.

- What is unfair? You barely heard what he said but did anyways.

- It's unfair to look this cute actually, he whispers, still looking around the cafe shop.

- W-what did you say? I didn’t hear you, you purse your lips, blinking in confusion. To be honest you did heard him, you just wanted to be sure and not be delusional.

- Nothing, a simple note to myself, » he shrugs and then stand up when his order is being called.

You couldn't help but wonder to what he said earlier, what does he mean by "unfair"? Anyways, you checked the time on your phone to see that it was late (or that you wanted to escape from this situation?), and that you needed to revise for a test coming soon. Sunghoon was just arriving when you stand up. He gave you a confused look and you quickly told him the reason of your departure.

« Already leaving? We have just arrived? He asks, incredulous, standing still with his drink in hand. (Sunghoon be like : 🧍‍♂️)

- I know and I'm sorry for that! I'll see you around! You say, in a sort of a rush.

- Wait lemme at least walk you, he tries to slow you down, but you were faster and have already left the cafe shop. Aish... This girl... » he tilted his head, disappointed in himself or in you he didn't know, but he for sure wanted to spend a little bit more time with you.

After all, you caught his eyes and with it, his cold heart.

다섯.

« Make me touch you

Ma-make me touch you »

The following week was packed.

You finally let out a sigh of relief, it was now the week-end, you will have the deserved time to breathe. You were now in your room, on your bed, laying on your chest. You had just finished your night routine and was on the verge of sleeping when you heard something hitting your window. Panicked, you quickly turn off your bedside lamp, telling who-the-hell they're that you're sleeping and above all, that you want to be alone. In fact, you were scared it was a stealer or a serial killer and hurriedly hide yourself under your blanket as if it will protect you from them. Even though you tried to sleep, your eyes tightly shut, the noise wouldn’t stop, it was quite the contrary. Taking your courage in both hands, you quietly stand up and gently push aside your curtains before looking for the culprit of your peacefulness. Being shocked was an understatement as you saw none other than Lee Heeseung standing behind your gates, getting ready to throw yet another rock on your window before you furiously open the latter.

« Lee Heeseung! What are you doing at this hour? I'm trying to sleep! You whisper-yelled, not wanting to wake up your parents.

- Come with me! He offers you a big smile, waving at you.

- Is he crazy or what? You murmured to yourself, not believing his words. What? Why? Are you going to give me some candies and then kidnap me? You say ironically, I don't know you! Go to your home! » You finally pronounce your last words before closing your window.

« I wouldn’t mind kidnapping you though, » he mumbles under his breath as he smiles, heart racing.

Not even two seconds after it was closed, you hear knocking sounds again. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself, you were not one to be very patient, plus the lack of sleep these days were really working you up. Lee Heeseung or not, you were strangers and he was invading your privacy at this point ! It has to cease before your parents found him out and call the police. As much as you didn’t liked him, it's not like you hated him too and you just wanted to avoid problems. God knows what could happen to you if this story disclose around, his fangirls would grab your hair, make a pretty haircut (note the sarcasm) and throw you in the nearest dump while his father would probably kick you out of the country with your parents. So you decided to slip on an oversized hoodie, stolen from your brother (working overseas), and to step down your stairs in the quietest way possible. You needed to be extra careful because your mother was a light sleeper so even the weenie mistake would wake her up and you would then be in big problems. Reaching the entrance, you open the door without a care about your looks, after all, it completely went out of your head.

« What's your problem? Why are you here? You hiss, now infront of the fuckboy of the campus.

- Woah ~ so sexy, he whistles at the sight of your disheveled hair, oversized hoodie, slippers and your annoying face.

- Just answer the damn question Lee, you switch your weight on one of your leg, the foot opposed stomping against the fresh grass of your garden. Your hands were on your hips as you were glaring at him.

- Just wanted to see you, that's all, he lifted his hands above his shoulders, acting as if he was surrending himself.

- And why so? I don't understand, we are not friends, not even acquaintances even more, we don't speak to each other at all. How did you even got my address?! And most importantly : What do you want from me? Your frown deepening, your arms cross on your chest.

- I'm racing tonight, I need to bring someone with me. I thought of-, he began but you quickly dismiss him.

- Rejected. Did you really think I was going to accept? In your dreams, you scoff, not believing him.

- Come on, it will be fun I promise you, » he extends his hand, as if waiting for you to grab it.

The truth is, you heard from some classmates that racing with Heeseung was amazing. He would have excellent driving skills and it would have been a shame to miss it. Closing the distance between you and him, you raise your hand, almost as if you were going to accept his proposition, only to clap his hand down. His eyes, that were hopeful of you possibly agreeing, lose their light, like a sad puppy not getting his treat.

« I will say it one last time Heeseung, you look straight into his eyes, rejected. » You gritted, emphasizing on your last word.

You then turn around, not letting him the time to reply back, and enter your home. Not even two minutes inside and you're glidding down the door, your hands pressed against your chest, a futile attempt to calm your messy heartbeat. This interaction with this man was in no point good for you and put you in one hell of a state you couldn't even imagine.

Why everything was suddenly happening to you? And most of all, why did it has to be LEE FREAKING HEESEUNG?

That night, you couldn't sleep.

여섯.

« Make me want you

Ma-make me want you »

The next morning you felt especially groggy. You didn't had much sleep and it was also the first day of your period. « I hate this world » you mumbled to yourself, already feeling the cramps coming. As you peacefully went out of bed to ready yourself, a notification caught your attention.

« #Lee_Heeseungs_new_chick »

Seriously? Was he going to follow you everywhere you were going? Would you believe! Now he’s even invading your notifications… You feel like Lee Heeseung was stuck with you for whatever reason and it pissed you off. For wanting him away it looks like the opposite.

« Are you ready Y/N? Hurry or you will be late, informs your father, peeking through your door, ajar.

- Yes I'm coming right now, is mom already gone? You ask, standing up and taking your uniform hanging on your wardrobe.

- Yup, said she has to go early today, » you hear his faint voice as he was walking down the stairs, his voice resonating in the corridor.

It was unusual for you, your mom never had to go early to work. But you shrugged it off, everything happens for a reason. You quickly do your morning routine then finally went out of your house.

As you arrived at the university, you couldn't help but notice how stares were directed at you for a reason you ignore. Being self-counscious, you found a restroom and checked if you had anything on your face or your clothes, only to notice that everything was perfectly fine. What the hell was happening?

The only way to know was to ask Young-Hee as she always keep herself updated. And you didn't had to search for her for too long as you could pratically hear her yells from the other side of the hallway.

« Y/NNN! Oh my god why didn't you tell me? She grabs your hand and pulls you towards a quieter side of the hallway, where nobody could hear you both.

- About what? You ask, like a lost puppy.

- You and Lee Heeseung are dating !Congrats! She cheerfully says.

- Wait- what?! No way in this freaking world! I do not like him and you know it! You offer her your most disgusted-shocked face, making her laugh.

- But the whole campus is aware! She then take out her phone from her bag's pocket.

- And why am I not aware then? What's happening?

You noticed that everyone were looking at you with weird eyes, you panicked a little, looking repeatedly on both side of you.

- Look! » She shows you her screen.

You couldn't believe what you were seeing right now.

It was a picture of you and Heeseung last night. The picture showed the moment you just taped his hand down to refuse his proposition, but it gives the impression of you two holding hands. Who would take a picture of you and him this late at night? One of his fans? Or maybe he planned this all along? You were confused and soon a striking pain started to pounced in your head. Good, you were having a headache because of all the ruckus. Not to mention the pain of your cramps too, you knew how bad they were particularly during the first few days.

« Are you okay? Worriedly ask Young-Hee, seeing you squinting your eyes in pain.

- Having a headache and period cramps are the worst I swear, you mutter under your breath, taking a big inspiration only to wince when you feel the contractions.

- Today's really not your day ma girl, she shakes her head, going through her bag to find a potential pill that could helps you.

- Let's go in class, it's about to start, » you take her extended hand that was giving you the med and walk to class, steps galloping in fear of being late.

Mrs So was already in the classroom, spreading her books and belongings and not even after being seated, she began her lesson. You quickly ate the med while rummaging through your bag to pull out your belongings.

« Pssst Y/N, »

It was one of your classmate, in whom you never really spoke. The way her eyes glinted in curiosity was slowly freaking you out. You knew what she wanted to know.

« No, we aren't dating, don't misunderstand the pic, you respond drier than attended and not even sparring her a glance making it look even more rude.

- Okay okay sorry for wasting your time, you could hear the sarcastic tone with an eye roll, not that you really care. What a boring girl you are, why would he choose you instead of me? »

You silently sighed, it's not your fault if his flirty ass was in front of your house at 1 A.M. But maybe you shouldn't have approached him and just should've shut him down and go to sleep like nothing happened.

« Ladies at the right, stop talking, warns Mrs So.

- It's Y/N, she can't keep her mouth shut, she said, voice filled with sarcasm.

- Huh? Are you talking about you?

- Tch, what are you five?

- Yup five times smarter than you, you proudly smile, the whole class hyping you.

- YOU-

- Mrs Park, this is your last warning, stares Mrs So.

- I'll kill you Marilyn Monhoe, she lastly whisper.

- At least I'm hot, » you quietly say, hearing the snickers of some of your classmates.

Internally, you were screaming because how in hell someone spotted you with THE Lee Heeseung? This just made you exasperated and more determined to have less contact with him...

Days had passed and you were avoiding Lee Heeseung like plague. The latter did not understand your behavior as he was secretly longing for you.

Following you with his eyes each time you happened to walk by him. His friends, except one were looking at him with a grin, they knew oh how much Heeseung wanted to own you, well the reason was unknown to them, but the way he was devouring you with his eyes spoke enough for them to know you were his prey.

In fact, Lee Heeseung has been infatuated by you the day he saw you rejecting one guy. The latter was known for being a real playboy in disguise, playing the Prince Charming to get girls. We could say he and Heeseung were sworn enemies, competing over who could catch more girls. So when you turned the guy down, it only created a spark in Heeseung, the desire to win you invading his brain. If he could have you, he could brag about it to the loser who failed, gaining yet a tingle of pride. At first, winning you and throwing you like an old rag was all he could think of, yet what he didn't expected, was the fact you were *actually* attractive and interesting. He felt like you were an unpolished gem, a precious diamond that didn't showcase its spark yet. In his head he was the miner, you were the diamond, he had to polish you, to make you shine.

일곱.

« K-kiss you, t-touch you, w-want you »

« Make me love you »

Soon enough, seeing and thinking that Lee Heeseung's attention on you was finally finished, you lowered your guards and peacefully lived your life, knowing the only person you needed in your social circle was Young-Hee.

*Ding*

The sound of your phone makes you freak out as you take it out of your bag. Speaking of the devil, Hee has just send you a message, claiming she was feeling sick and won't be able to come in class.

« Is this for real? The exact moment I think about her, she's sick, this girl I swear, » you sigh.

Young-Hee was the type of girl who got rarely sick, so it feels empty to eat alone in a classroom. You thought that it could bring you peace and to be honest, you didn't want to be looked at for eating alone. So here you were, eating alone in a classroom, just minding your business.

« Oh, did I just caught a fish eating alone? » a voice resonated in your ears, breaking the pleasant silence you were in.

Immediately perking your head, your gaze falls upon the ice skater. His tall frame was leaning against the door, his arms crossed with one hand holding a drink.

His eyes had looked you from toes to head, analyzing every details and to be fair, made you slightly uncomfortable. His grin and teasing eyes just made you feel self conscious and you looked away, a slight blush creepig up your face.

« I didn't expect you to be here... What brings you here? you ask softly, resuming on eating your lunch.

- I saw you eating alone, so I thought I could keep you compagny, are you okay with this? » he says, already making his way to take the chair in front of you, pulling it so the back could rest against your desk. He finally plopped down on the chair, facing you directly, propping his forearm on the top of his chair.

- Well... looks like you already eased yourself here, beside, who am I to tell you no? You suck in a sigh, his intense gaze was just urging you to hide in a hole and to never get out of it.

- We didn't get to finish our conversation last time, so why not catching it up now? he asks, looking at the window, the sun rays shining on his handsome face, did he thought he was in a drama? Even the breeze was a paid actor as it made your hair and his leisurely dancing.

- Hum... I'm kinda an awkward girl, you may go on your way...you mutter, dumbfounded as to why someone like him would want to have a conversation with a girl like you, trying to escape guys like death.

- It's okay l'm awkward too, » he chuckles to himself, his head lowering slightly as he does.

Gosh he was beautiful, what did he ate to be this handsome?

« Sung- », a voice called but immediately stopped.

Lee Heeseung was there, and the scene before his eyes was like a bad dream. His close friend, Park Sunghoon is having a face to face conversation with the girl he's trying so hard to catch the attention. Heeseung wondered why it looks easy for his friend to talk to you, he did not understand at the moment why you weren't hostile towards him. If one day Heeseung was being told he got jealous over one of his friend, he would have just laughed it off, shaking his head while mumbling some incoherent things on how it is impossible for him to feel that way.

« What is it hyung? » asks Sunghoon, clearly aware of his senior's intentions with you.

« Well... I didn't expect you two to be together, his eyes were locked on your figure, long time no see Y/ N, » he smiles at you, closing the distance between you three. You couldn't be in a more embarassing situation. Firstly, the tension could be felt from miles, secondly, you never asked to be talked to, and finally, how can it be so hard to be alone these days?

Feeling uneasy, both by their intimidating gazes and their presence, you shakily release a sigh.

« I don't know what I did to you guys... what do you want from me? » you ask, on one hand, not wanting to know their answer, and on the other one, craving to know what their full intentions were.

« Didn't I told ya already? I want you to race with me, » he says nonchalently, shrugging his shoulders.

« And I was clear about it, I don't wanna do it, » you sigh, not really knowing how to formulate your words so he could give it up.

« Racing with Heeseung could be dangerous, that's why I'm never riding with him, » says softly Sunghoon, his expression betraying his voice. But it ceased when his attention finally focused itself on you, the older man glaring at him.

« Don't act like you are not riding like him, » your brows creased, not impressed.

« I don't do cars races, I swear on my lovely dog, » he lifted his hands up, claiming his innocence.

« I don't wanna drive with either of you two, you sigh, closing your eyes, what did I do for you two to want me to ride with you? There's plently of girls in the campus! »

At this point they didn't know if you were really clueless or if you were doing this on purpose. It was as clear as water that Lee Heeseung and Park Sunghoon were hitting on you. We couldn't really blame you: never got confessed, never got a boyfriend, never had male friends after Sunoo so yes, what is love anyways?

Heeseung thought for a while, trying to find a way to make you agree. When the idea comes to him, he smiles brightly and stand in front of you, looking down at you with a smirk.

« How about I buy you those pretty pencils from this one shop near the campus? I noticed that you have a lot of them, » he smiles, proud.

Touché, you felt blocked, because as much as you want to deny it, you always had a things for books and stationery stores. You took care of the esthetic of your belongings and it didn't go unoticed by Lee. Gritting your teeth, your head became fuzzy as well as your thoughts, the tentation was high but a side of you keep reminding you that he was Lee Heeseung, the campus' playboy. You failed to catch the smile of Sunghoon sightly faltering. Freak, Heeseung got a step ahead, and you, who were usually direct to reject him, was now hesitating.

The first time Park Sunghoon came visiting the new city he was gonna moved in, he didn't thought much of it. His introvert character made it hard for him to open up to people. Only on his friends he could lean on and they were everything he needed. Sunghoon didn't planned on falling in love. Indeed he was known for being quite the heartless and cold guy, ignoring confessions and not showing a bit of interest in the opposite gender. His sister and mom were enough for him, he didn't need other women in his life than his family. But fate worked against him when he saw a young girl from his age, crouching near a dog while patting it. His eyes traveled up to see the longstanding crusty letters that formed the two words « Animal center » written on an old building, dilapidated enough to imagine it was there for many years. The girl was standing just behind the opened gate, talking sweetly with the dog in front of her. She looked like she was the happiest on Earth, in her own bubble as her soft chuckles resonated in the silence of the street. Sunghoon was too stunned to speak a word, clearly dazed by the scenery painted in front of his eyes. The golden hour made it look even more beautiful than it was already, melting his icy heart the more he was watching you.

« HUM... Can I help you? » Sunghoon heard a voice calling out to him, stopping him from his dazy state and regaining consciousness. The sight of you was nowhere to be seen as an old granny, smiling softly at him, stood a few meters away from him, eventually blocking him from seeing you.

« Oh, hum, n-no... I was just passing by... » he answered, caught off guard and blushing from embarassment. He quickly bowed before hasting his steps out of sight. At this moment, he believed that he could never see you again.

So the day you splashed your milk onto his shirt, his anger immediately turned into surprise when he saw your face, the image of you patting the dog inked in his brain. He hadn't got the time to speak a word that you were already dashing out of his sight, handing him a tissue while looking down and walking past him.

« How long does a racing lasts? » You ask, reclaiming again Sunghoon's attention on you.

Watching as Heeseung heaved a sigh alongside a sly grin, his face showing nothing else but satisfaction and victory.

« It's tonight, midnight, I will pick you up at 11:30 PM » Heeseung smirks, eyeing you with fancy eyes.

« I didn't ask when it was, I asked about the duration, you sigh, besides I didn't even agreed, you stated and raised a brow at him.

- Yet. If you really wanted to refused you would have already told me no, he smiles, knowing he won, so tell me, are you coming or not? »

Gritting your teeth, you looked everywhere besides the two men in front of you, one eager to know your answer, certain you will say yes. The other, praying you will say no, his eyes not leaving yours.

« Y/N- », begins Sunghoon before getting cut of by Heeseung.

« Come on! First and last time I ask you to! »

« I really hate you... » you mutter enough for them both to hear.

« Shit… » thinks Sunghoon, completely devastated you agreed.

여덟.

« Every day, I enter into a different world

I was a butterfly, attracted to the temptation

I’ve fallen into a sweet scent

How do I look ? »

Here you were, waiting for Lee Heeseung to come pick you up, your hands tightly grabbing the strap of your purse. Soon enough, you catch a glimpse of a car's headlights. Stopping just in front of you, the driver's door opened to reveal Heeseung. His hair was up, showing his forehead, wearing a dark blue baggy jeans, an oversize black t-shirt with a leather jacket. His looks were complimented by earrings and necklace. And on his face, a smirk was plastered. You could tell he loved what he was seeing.

« Here we go, Mrs Y/N, » he smiles, opening the passagenger's door for you, and you oblige, sitting inside his car. His car was impressive, a black Alfa Romeo Giulia quadrifoglio. « Perfect for his car's racings », you thought to yourself as your eyes wander on the illuminated dashboard. As much as your heart was beating loudly, a part of you was telling you that Lee Heeseung has made a special propose for you to drive with him made you feel unique, until the other part of your brain reminds you that the seat you're currently sitting on had tons of women on it. It gave you chills and a little frown make its place on your face as Heeseung finally eases himself beside you.

« Are you comfy? he asks before stopping himself when looking at your face, I feel like I just kidnapped you while you agreed to come with me. » He chuckles while you refused to look back at him, a small pout on your lips.

« Nothing, hurry so I can go home as fast as I can, » you mumble while looking at the window.

« Alright, received loud and clear. » He smiles before pressing his foot on the pedal, the car dashing at top speed.

You suppress a loud gasp when he does, firmly gripping anything you can grasp. Your heart that was already beating real fast feels like it could explose anytime. You could not even apprehend what was happening at the moment, the city flashing at an incredible speed, soon reaching the small-town.

You try not to pay too much attention on the way he has his left elbow on the ledge of the window, his fingers grazing his lips and the other hand, firmly seizing the steerwheel. Gosh why was he still attractive after all the troubles he did to you?

« Liking the view my lady? » he says, snapping you out of your trance.

« I would be pleased if I could get another one right now. » You answer without missing a beat.

All you recolted was his laugh filling the tensed silence.

« I can say you give your trust easily Y/N, he stated with a grin, you really do look like those children who are seen being proposed some candies by a total stranger, he looks at you for a few seconds before looking back at the road, fallen into the trap. »

«I-, » you tried to answer back but couldn't say anything as it was true.

The rest of the trip was spent in the silence as a soft music played in the background. You were feeling uncomfortable. Mainly because you were not expecting to spend a soiree with a man and mostly Lee Heeseung.

You finally arrived when you see an infinite amount of cars alongside cheerful people, suddenly feeling self-consicous about the situation you're in right now. You didn't think about the fact that Lee Heeseung was very well known in town and so, that everyone surely already knew it was him by the sight of his car. As Heeseung parked right in front of a crowd, he turns his head to look at you. « Just be natural pretty, you will mak’em all speechless » he whispers smoothly, you took a deep breathe, nodding quickly before going out of the vehicule.

« Yo man, came with your new chick? Whistle a man upon seeing you, his eyes roaming up and down your silhouette.

- Yup, m'racing with her tonight, » grins proudly Heeseung, glancing back at you with a glint in his eyes while you roll yours up.

You then noticed how people were staring at you, mixed reactions coming up as you try not to pay attention to it. However, in the corner of your eyes, you notice a familiar body. Park Sunghoon. He was standing alongside the rest of the band. His eyes were fixed on you, a frown visible on his features. This made you uncomfortable. To be honest, everything made you self-conscious and anxious. This wasn't something you were used to, all the ruckus, this seems like another world to you and the dryness in your throat wasn't helping.

« Everyone! I'm gonna list all the races of tonight! » announces a slender men wearing a pair of sunglasses even though it was pitch dark, his long hair hiden behind a red cap.

Soon, everyone turned their attention towards him, listening actively to what he was saying.

« And for the last race, we will have Lee Heeseung against a new opponent! Tonight signs his first participation! Please, welcome Park Sunghoon! » he screams happily as he gestures towards the said man, standing not so far away from you, screams soon invading your ears as your eyes were fixed on him.

You notice the way his face remains close, not a single emotion discernible except for determination. And as your eyes cross each other, a firm grip on your hip made you look up, a low angle-shot of Heeseung's side profile entering your vision.

« Stop staring at him and focus on me. He says lowly only for you to hear.

- And who are you to order me that? You answer him, an eyebrow arched, surprising yourself at the way you could respond with confidence.

- Consider tonight like a date. He grins, finally looking down at you, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes.

- ...Tch. » You sigh. You really felt into his trap.

When your turn finally came, your hurriedly walk to go to Heeseung's car, but not before a hand gripped your forearm, yanking you slowly back.

« Can we talk real fast before going? You recognize his voice, it's Sunghoon.

- Okay... but quick. You nod along before isolating yourself with him, Heeseung watching afar not really liking what he is seeing, but the crowd around him make it impossible for him to reach out to you.

- Fuck. » He curses under his breath, feeling his blood boiling in his veins.

Being now a few meters away from all these people, Sunghoon halt his steps and turns around, his eyes immediately falling on your delicate features.

« Listen-

- Sunghoon-, you both started at the same time. He quickly gestures you to keep going as you heave a sigh, why? Why are you participating in this race ? Weren't you the one saying it was dangerous? You frown, your arms crossing against your chest.

- I know, I'm sorry I just... I just.. I think I just can't trust Heeseung hyung with you. He spoke, his words faint as if he was searching for his words. Thanks for the darkness of the sky, you couldn't decipher his red cheeks and ears nor even the way his eyes were looking everywhere but you.

- And why so? » You tilt your head, ignoring the reason behind this reasoning.

Your eyes were fixed on his face as he looks right back at you, determination written on his face.

« Because I… »

You were now in Heeseung's car, your heart beating crazily against your ribcage.

« What happened with Sunghoon? the driver asks, tone colder than a few hours ago.

- Nothing concerning you, you answer slowly, the name of the other man making you anxious.

- Y/N, what did Sunghoon told you? » Heeseung repeats, his voice a bit menacing as he places his car on the left side of the track, a gorgeous woman standing at your right with two flags in her hands. Soon, another vehicule stops just beside you. Not wanting to face Heeseung, you look at the window only to meet Sunghoon's fierce gaze. Your cheeks reddening, you quickly look in front of you, breath stuck in your chest.

« Well, if I win, you better tell me, he scoffs, foot on the pedal, pressing it hardly, both cars' motors roaring up.

- No, you frown, your hands clasping against the belt.

- It wasn't a question, » he finally says as a loud sound comes from an air horn signalling the start of the race.

Your words got stuck in your throat as the car dash at an alluring speed, your hands quickly grabbing the door's handdle to keep yourself steady.

« Fuck you Lee Heeseung for pulling me in this shit, you curse, feeling like your heart could explode anytime.

- The pleasure is mine baby, he smirks, shooting a glance in the rearview mirror, seeing as Sunghoon was close behind you, I can't believe it's his first time, you don't drive like this on your first time, he chuckles lowly, accelerating.

- Well, don't blame me if I end up barfing in your car, you say, breathless as he took a sharp turn on the left, your head almost colliding harshly against the window.

- Mark your territory pretty, » he only chuckles loudly.

It was a close race, one you couldn't tell who will win. And to be honest, you were more on the verge of throwing up and dying than to take care on who was winning. The only thing you could do was to focus on your breathe, cursing here and there and wondering why on earth did you accept to accompagny him, for what? Some dumb stationnary things you could buy yourself?!

In no time, you heard another loud bang of air horn, concluding the end of the race. Your eyes previously closed, opened slowly to reveal the crowd cheering for you.

« Did you win? You ask, voice weak and wet.

- Yup, I won baby, » the playboy declares, quickly opening his door as people were cheering loudly for him.

He quickly blend into the crowd, happily celebrating his victory as you got out of the vehicule, running to a secret corner to throw up. Coughing, tears in your eyes, you felt a striking pain in your head.

« I hate this man so much... kof kof... » you blabber, wiping your mouth with the hem of your hoodie.

You hurriedly dash out of the car once the latter stops in front of your house. The ride back was silent as you had closed your eyes all along, not answering the winner even once.

« Hey, Heeseung spoke, after stepping out of his car too, hands in his pockets, he makes his way towards you, a grin evident adorning his face, care to explain what had happened between you and Sunghoon now that I won?

- No. And after this night, I think I hate you even more, you spat, tiredness written all over your face.

- All right all right, what did I even do this time? he smirks, coming closer to you, his scent invading your nostrils as the wind carries his perfume.

- I... I freaking threw-, » you said before feeling another wave of vomit climbing back up your esophagus, your hand clasping against your lips.

Seeing your state, Heeseung couldn’t help but laugh out loud, his bright smile making you blush.

« It’s alright, just throw up, » he snickers as you walk fast away from him, crouching down near the drain in front of your house. Soon enough, you throw up once more, feeling breathless and thirsty. You then feel two warm hands tying your hair up in a makeshift ponytail, then a delicate hand massaging the back of your neck.

« I’m sorry I had to put you through this, but I had to win, » he smiles, his eyes inked to the back of your head as you cough, a few tears escaping your eyes.

Lee Heeseung, apologizing? This does not goes together very well. But why does he sound so sincere? Did he really meant those words?

« And for what? What did you won? » You ask, spitting not so gracefully in the drain, feeling well aware of his eyes on you, at this point you couldn’t care because your head was throbbing so painfully that receiving a bullet in your skull was the only solution you could think of.

« I was wishing for a chance with you actually, he said unbothered while you choked on your own saliva.

- Are you kidding me? You say, your throat so dry you feel like all the water in your body left you when you threw up.

- Nope, I want you. » he said, crouching down next to you, his fingers cupping your jaw to make you look at him. His thumb coming up to wipe off the saliva at the corner of your lips, the movement making you dizzy.

In the breezy night, it felt like only you and Lee Heeseung remained on Earth as time seems to have stopped. His eyes were hypnotizing you, your breathing stopping as you contemplate each other. For a second, your mind sure felt bewitched by his pupils. You felt like you were drunk, was it the effect of your periods? The fatigue? The stress? Or was it simply because of him?

« Make me love you… you breathed out, quietly.

- Mh? He only hums, slowly approaching his face closer to yours.

- If you so want me… then try to make me love you… you whisper, your ears and cheeks turning crimson as your heartbeat pounded furiously.

- Are you allowing me to? Because once I start, there’s no turning back, and… I will not accept any complain coming from your pretty lips » he mutters, his eyes closing slowly.

On the contrary, your eyes opened wildly, is he really going to kiss you? Like, right now? Your thoughts invaded your brain and without thinking twice, you quickly pushed him away, both your hands on his toned chest before getting up and running towards your house.

« I threw up! You say embarrassed as you fidget with your purse while searching for your keys.

- Wouldn’t have bothered me… » he mumbles to himself as he chuckles, a smirk plastered on his face as he watches you, hands in his pockets.

아홉.

« Farther, a little bit farther, high in the sky

I’ve come a white star as I fly away

Never seen it before

(Such warm eyes) »

You sigh in relief as you remember that it was Saturday.

« Finally alone! » You huffed softly, stretching out on your bed as birds are chirping.

Thanks to your great organisation, you already did all your homework too, so the weekend will be pretty chill. As you were humming contently, memories of what happened last night flew in your head and you quickly hide your tomato face in your cushions, screaming your frustration out.

« Are you okay girl? A deep voice asks.

- Huh? You’re back?! You instantly lift your head up to look up at your big bro, standing against the door of your room.

- Yup. Why did you screamed like a dead hen? Did you realized you’ll be single for the rest of your life? He grins mockingly.

- Shut up you cow! You spoke back, yeeting a pillow in his direction which he avoids easily.

- Breakfast’s ready, move yo ass down. » He smiles, satisfied before going down the stairs.

Fortunately for you, the breakfast went smoothly, catching up with your brother and spending time with your family is something you particularly enjoy.

« Someone threw up in the drain just in front of our house, if I catch them I’ll send them to Hades! Rumbles your dad as your face turn pale and you gulp down.

- If only you knew Dad… you thought to yourself, once again remembering Heeseung’s lips near yours.

- Hey, why are ya red like this? Smirks your brother, teasing you for the ninth time.

- Eggs are hot, you try to dissuade him, glaring.

- They’ve been on your plate for an hour what do you mean they’re hot? Liar. » He replies back, an eyebrow cocked, not believing you one bit.

You just snort and keep on eating, missing the way your brother’s stare remained on you for a bit longer than usual, examining your face.

**Buzz buzz**

The table trembles slightly as your phone vibrates. All eyes on you as you check your notifications. Some messages from an unknown number. Well…. Not so unknown if you’re being honest because you knew exactly who it was.

« Answer, grins your brother.

- No phone at the table. Strictly orders your mom.

- Mom, your daughter is probably seeing your future son-in-law, snickers your brother which earns a small kick from you under the table, ouch! Why so violent sis?

- The day my daughter will have a boyfriend will be the day your father will stops snoring, your mother chuckles as your phone keeps vibrating, Y/N answer the poor boy.

- …, you watch every member of your family before sighing, okay…, » you mumble, taking your phone and walking away.

You then isolated yourself in the kitchen, a groggy voice reaching your eardrums.

« Hey beautiful, he greets you, the raspy voice being a clue of his recent awakening.

- What? You answer drier than intended, making him chuckle.

- Do you feel better? He asks, his eyes closed as your voice soothe his heart.

- Yes… thank you… for holding up my hair…, you mumble shyly, suddenly embarrassed about the fact you actually threw up before a human other than your family.

- Are you free? I want to see you. His tone sounded so pleading, you thought for a second.

- …Let’s buy what you had promised me, you whisper softly, unconsciously smiling.

- All right, will be here in 20, » he says, making a kissing sound before hanging up.

Your cheeks flushed when you realized he sent you a flying kiss. Before quickly shaking your head and slapping your cheeks. « Get your shot together Y/N! » you think to yourself.

« It was cheesy sis, sneers your brother peeking through the door, I actually can’t believe my sister has a date like right now, by the way can you run some errands for me? I will send you by texts. Thank you! He quickly says before disappearing.

- This kid I swear, I wonder if I’m not the older sister sometimes. » You roll your eyes up before quickly preparing yourself.

« Is it a date? Is it not? » After all, Heeseung did promised to buy you some stationery items, right? So he was just fulfilling his promise, right? So why couldn’t you stop the speed of your heart nor the unstopping back and forth thoughts in your head? Twenty minutes flew by in an instant and you were nervously waiting for him in front of the gates.

A loud roaring takes your attention as you search for the familiar car of last night. Here you see Heeseung’s impressive car, stopping in front of you.

« Tut-tut-tut, before you go lemme do a small check, cut off your dad, surprisingly standing next to you, I gotta see who is taking my daughter away from me.

- Dad it’s not a date..! You mumble between gritted teeth as you watch anxiously the way Heeseung got out of his car to come to you.

- That’s what your mom told her dad on the first date with me, he scoffs before examining Heeseung from head to toe.

- Good morning, I’m Lee Heeseung, » the latter says, extending his hand after bowing politely to your dad.

Your dad only shakes the younger man’s hand, his grip strongly engulfing Heeseung’s one. He puts some more pressure on his grip before Heeseung tightens his too making your dad chuckles shortly.

« 11 PM, not one second more, » he just said before turning his heels away and going back home.

You scoff at what he said, rolling your eyes up.

« I‘ll be home earlier than that, » you shake your head in disbelief.

Lee Heeseung could only smile as he opens the door for you, before going to the driver seats and driving you two in direction of your favorite shop.

열.

« Deeply place me in your universe

(I’ll close my eyes)

Take me far away

And make me love you »

8 PM, you couldn’t believe your eyes as you saw the time. Did you just spent a whole day with the man you thought hated from your deepest guts? The day flew by so quickly you did not even noticed it. And you hated to admit it but you had a great time with him. It almost felt too real to be true.

You were sitting on a bench, facing a lake as some shopping bags were at your feet, a respectable distance between you and Heeseung.

**Buzz buzz**

Your phone vibrates as you were staring at the female duck and her children swimming in the water.

« Ayo sis, I’m sending you what I need, just go to the 24/7 store! Thank you! » was the text your brother sent you before a list followed right after.

« - Cigarettes

- Lighter

- Candies

- Lube

- Condoms- »

You cough out loud, almost throwing out your phone in the lake as you saw the two last items he needed.

« Is everything okay? Heeseung asks with a small frown upon seeing you coughing badly.

- Y-yeah…yeah yeah… you chuckle it off, looking elsewhere but him.

- Do you want to go home? I will drive you-

- No actually I need to buy some stuff for my brother you can go ahead, I’ll go home alone, you smile sheepishly.

- Your dad’s gonna kill me if he ever learn I let you go home alone, Heeseung responds, and he was right, besides, I do want to drive you home, » he smiles softly, grazing his eyes over your features.

You could only sigh. Secretly noticing how the Lee Heeseung you knew in college wasn’t the same one standing in front of you.

« Well… why should I be shy since you saw me spitting out my intestines? You finally say before standing back up on your feet. Let’s go, » your turn to face him, his eyes staring up at you.

You didn’t noticed the awkward feeling right away but now it was eating you up as you were in the aisle presenting every brand of condoms that existed.

« Did I miss a hint from you? Smirks Heeseung, a box of condoms in his hand as he fixes the product.

- Stop it, I already want to bury myself alive right now, you whisper lowly, checking your surroundings like a psycho every two seconds, checking if someone is witnessing you.

- Should I help you out? These ones are great, he said, pointing a particular brand on a shelf.

- God, I didn’t have to know! You bite down on your lower lip, heat quickly spreading across your cheeks and your chest.

- And for the lube, take this one, » he says softly, ignoring your words, his body suddenly behind you as he reaches for a box of lube, the proximity making you breathless.

It seems like you stopped working as you couldn’t answer him nor move. So Heeseung took the matter in his hands and grabs the necessary items in one hand and your own hand in his other before leading you to the cashier. He then puts down the items that were quickly scanned by the young lady, eyeing you not so secretly.

« 28080.55₩, announces the lady.

- W-what?! Twenty thousand freaking won for some condoms and lube?! You thought to yourself before a little sound comes from the POS machine, indicating that the payment was done.

- Thank you! Have a great night! Bow the cashier before you couldn’t even process anything.

- Let’s go, » says Heeseung, grabbing the plastic bag and your hand, leading you outside.

You only snapped back to reality once the cold wind hit your face.

« Why did you paid for it?! And why did you choose the most expensive ones?! Twenty thousand won for condoms and lube were not worth it!

- If we want to do it correctly, the price is not important, he grins, tilting his head curiously.

- It’s not for me! You blush furiously, looking away and walking towards his car, let’s go home now.

- Should we eat a bit before I drive you home? He offers.

- …Then let me pay for it, you suggest after taking a few seconds to think.

- Alright princess, » he smiles as you both enter his car.

Like promised, Lee Heeseung let you pay for the dinner. You didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose or not, but his menu was cheaper than you, almost making you believe that he didn’t wanted you to pay a crazy amount.

« Are you sure this will be enough? You only took some fries and a soda… you mutter, looking down at his tray.

- Don’t worry, just eat, he shakes his head, plopping one fries in between in lips, slowly munching on it as he stares at the window.

- Here… you extend your untouched burger close to his mouth, your lips in a thin line. Hurry before I take it out. »

Heeseung looks at you with wide eyes before a warm smile spread onto his lips, holding onto the eye contact as he bites in the burger. His hand engulfs yours placed on the burger as he munches slowly. You then noticed how his fingers are long and slim, bigger than yours.

« Liking the view? His words seemed oddly familiar, reminding you of the scenes that happened earlier this weekend, finding it odd how everything changed in only a week.

- It’s not too bad, you answer boldly this time, keeping the eye contact.

- Want to see more? He grins.

- Nope, no more, don’t cross the line, you suddenly stopped him, his eyes going wide, a shocked expression before he burst out laughing, what? You ask, in disbelief.

- Nah you’re just cute, » he says, his chin on his palm, watching you endearingly as you eat your burger.

You stopped in front of your house’s gates, turning around.

« Thank you, I guess? » You say in a sigh.

Heeseung comes close to you, taking the bags from your hands and putting them down.

« I’ve never in my life waited this long, he mumbled, hands clasping around yours.

- For what? You ask a bit incredulous, palms sweating as the unusual feeling creeping in your chest comes again.

- After everything I’ve done to you, you’re still clueless of my intentions? I even said it to you multiple times already, he chuckles, incredulously.

- It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a playboy Heeseung…

- Do you want me to stop? He grins, a loving beam in his eyes.

- And what if you do? You answer back, looking up at him, getting lost in his eyes.

- Then I can have you for myself, he whispers, leaning dangerously close to you.

- I don’t know… you speak softly, voice fainter and fainter.

- If I give you something you longed for ever since, will you let me kiss you? He stares deeply in your eyes, searching for any hints of rejection, none besides hesitation.

- Depends… » you say, not really sure what he meant by that.

He fiddles with something in his pocket before a too familiar stringed bracelet comes into your field of view: the one your childhood’s friend gifted you, your anti stress.

« How…

- It fell when you were escaping Jake the other day, he gave me this and I knew it belonged to you when you came back searching for it, he whispers as he ties it back around your wrist.

- Thank you… for the day… for the bracelet, you trail off, not taking your eyes off from the simple but precious accessory on your wrist.

- It’s okay… he murmurs, his finger lifting your chin up, so is that a yes? You’re not going to reject me now, right? You didn’t threw up nor-

- Hurry up before I change my mind! You hiss, blushing and hitting his chest lightly.

- I love you. »

His words caught you off guard as his lips meet yours in a sweet kiss. Warmth spreading everywhere in your body as you felt butterflies in your stomach. Kissing Lee Heeseung was so easy, he made it so easy by taking the lead, kisses intoxicating your trail of thoughts.

His gentle bite on your bottom lip made you gasp, his wet muscle quickly claiming yours in a burning tango.

From his point of view, Heeseung sneakily slide his hands on your hips, grabbing them firmly as he practically presses his body to yours. His eyes half opened to see the way your eyes fluttered or the way your cheeks flushed. His heart couldn’t take any more of it, pounding in sync with yours.

« Gosh you make me go insane Y/N… he whispers against your lips, heavy breathing as you both seems in a trance, forehead finally joining.

- I hate you…you lie, looking away.

- You’re so sneaky Y/N, » he chuckles, ready to capture your lips for another kiss.

A loud gasp emitted from behind you as you quickly step away from Heeseung, turning around to see your brother.

« Sorry to interrupt but… Lil sis, do you have my condoms? »

« K-kiss you, t-touch you, w-want you »

« Make me love you »

END.

Your Highness!

We are delighted to see you here!

After a long break, our Queen had finally decided to wake up and had works her magic again!

She charged me to inform you about her ongoing activities! Lots of things are happening so we are hoping you will enjoy them!

Apologizing for taking so long to come back, we wish you a happy day.

- Butler of the castle.

#kflixnet #k labels #kbookshelf #celesteves #ayayiiie #enhypen #enha fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enha heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enha sunghoon #enha x reader #enhypen x reader

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sergeanthatredbignaturals · 8 months ago

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Silco - an analysis

Part 3/?

Silco is shown to be uncaring of what happens to Deckard, “will he live?” “long enough.” Long enough. As in, ‘he’ll serve his purpose as a test subject, before succumbing, but we will be able to test the effect on humans.’ Silco is once again painted as being unfeeling, and borderline devoid of emotion entirely, only caring about getting results and damn whoever he has to run through to get them.

The sea life is used as a metaphor for Silco himself. “Beautiful, aren’t they? Yet, up there on the surface, no one even knows they exist.” “They’re monsters.” “There’s a monster inside all of us.” Silco himself is a beautiful monster, intricate scarring, chromatically inverted eyes, pretty words, neatened hair, and fancy clothes. Yet, unsettling, ruthless, relentless, willing to do anything to achieve his goals, regardless of what that means, how many lives he had to destroy, and how many he has to take personally. So long as he reaches his goal, the ends justify the means in his eyes. And yet, up there on the surface, no one even knows he exists. He’s faded into irrelevance, simply a fading memory in people’s minds, if even that. He keeps to himself, hidden away, down in the old cannery, where no one will disturb him. Disturb his work. Where no one would bother looking. Where no one would bother to find him. But he’s there. He’s always there. And just because you can’t see them past the river filth, or see him from the Lanes, doesn’t mean he isn’t.

Through Silco’s monologue to Deckard, we get the first glimpse into Silco’s life. He’s not some pretentious rich fuck, like other characters we’ve seen so far, he has had to fight tooth and nail to get where he is today. Nothing has ever been given to him, everything he has become was the result of hard fought battles. He is in the position he is in today because he stopped at nothing to get there, because he had the determination to achieve it, and in that we get the faintest hints at Silco’s humanity, the same as we did watching the experiment at the end of the first episode, a glimpse at Silco is beyond the presumed persona of innate control.

And then we’re back to regular unfeeling old Silco, as Deckard takes the shimmer, and collapses in agony. Silco looks down at him as though he were nothing but a cockroach, so far below him that there’s barely a point in registering him as another life form, as he is one so easily crushed. Silco regards him as merely another lab rat. An experiment, that can be easily discarded and replaced as many times as is necessary. Not a person, but merely a thing.

[tag list (ask to join): @dantent @aggressivelyneurodivergent @iiisabels ]

#silco an analysis #<- series tag #check it for previous and future parts #silco posting #silco arcane #arcane silco #silco #arcane analysis #arcane league of legends #arcane lol #moth puts his b in english lit to use #moths incessant yapping #the ramblings of an insane person (me)

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freakinator · 10 months ago

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I've been wondering for a long time. How would you characterise Wemmbu? How he seems in your eyes, your opinion of the guy. I hope I don't sound weird or crazy.

aw dw anon its okay to be curious ^^

regarding my characterization of wemmbu, while there is a lot of consistency in how he acts since hes an improv rper and therefore generally just acts as a polished/exaggerated version of his own self, there are still a few differences in how he acts depending on what smp hes in

general: smarmy, quite pathetic but tries his best to hide it until he literally cant anymore, opportunistic, petty, truthful in that kind of way that makes you doubt him, not quite black and white thinking but can switch up fast when someone does something that presses his buttons (doesnt necessarily trigger when someones just being mean, its specific kinds of things -- mostly has something to do with pride and trust), has a desire to be on top of things but whether or not he indulges in that desire depends on his overall plans and the kind of server hes in, silly but in a lowkey way as in like he presents himself as a normal person which works but only if you dont look closer, lowkey cringey in that uwu kinda way (affectionate), good at one-on-one yapping esp if hes confident & knows more about the situation than the other person but starts to crumble if its either him vs a group or if hes genuinely not confident about something, willing to sacrifice so much just to achieve his goals whatever they may be

kings smp: more opportunistic and a lot more willing to lie & manipulate & betray, crab mentality very high but he holds it back since indulgin in all of it at once isnt very good for his plans

challenge smps: like kings smp but even More willing to lie & manipulate & betray, has a stronger crab mentality since the whole point of the smp is to win and he really wants to win and he knows he wont be seeing these ppl in this context again anyway so hes willing to do whatever it takes even if it means betraying his allies, << does Not apply to team challenges btw he will be very loyal until hes given a reason to betray such as believing the others are betraying them first

lifesteal smp: had a good grasp of what it means to be a lifestealer right from the get go but has struggled a bit in figuring out what that means for him exactly so he still has a bit of that new guy stench if you get what i mean (this characterization becomes less and less prominent the later in the timeline it is), has been very loyal thus far and is more than happy to point that out, average level of lifestealer aggressiveness, i like to parallel him with zam mirror-style due to them having opposite thought processes but coming to similar conclusions (pic below of unfinished draft ive had for ages cause idk how to word my thoughts regarding this properly other than 'the vibes')

unstableverse: very obvious mirror parallel to zam that i honestly wouldnt be surprised if it was on purpose, kinda hard talking about his motivations and character devoid of context regarding zam considering he spent 4 out of 5 eps as a major character (even when he isnt actually there lmao) and wemmbu spent 3 of those 4 eps obsessing over him but i will try my best, can be a bit of a stalker but only if he really cares about whatever it is the guy hes stalking is doing/potentially doing, no empathy (affectionate), generally doesnt care that much about individual players but when he gets attached he gets Attached for better or worse, zeroes in on his goals even to his own and others' detriment, a lot more pathetic than in other smps or at least has a harder time hiding his patheticness, also may just be me but i think hes more pessimistic?? not entirely sure tho

overall i think hes pretty neat! pretty cute and silly but also devious and mischievous, if i could shake him in a can i would

#mine.ask #Anonymous #i should probs tag stuff like this so i can read them again later #mine.hcs #uhhhhh might change that later idk

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g0ttal0ve101 · 8 months ago

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Lucian <3

[a/n]: we know how this goes……………...☹️ tw: child abuse, implied SA.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Lucian sobbed hysterically, his tears and snot running down his face and onto the floor as the belt buckle busted against his back. The impacts were becoming so harsh that patches of his pale skin were shaded an unnaturally dark red, displayed with the various other colors of bruises that were left on his body from days prior.

It felt like every apology he gave her resulted in another strike against his spinal cord. She started off with his butt, which is why his body was forcibly bent over her lap, but as she grew more angry, she went higher — harder.

Her eyes were devoid of all emotion as yet another crack of the belt echoed through the house. The sound was practically embedded into the wall’s foundation from how often she did it. But even then, she didn’t seem to realize or care about the statistics. She would do it when he was bad. That’s all.

Upon hearing the clacking of the metal against the little boy’s skin, Ryan came up from the basement and into the living room. When he saw the sight of Lucian nearly hanging upside down while his mother brutally beat his lower back, his voice cracked louder than the belt ever could.

“Michelle!”

She released him. Lucian toppled to the floor and grabbed at his back, sobbing as he tried to rub it to make it feel better — but to no success.

Finally, she stood up from the couch and extended her arm to point out the furthest corner of the living room. “Go.”

Lucian obeyed. Facing the corner and putting his forehead against the wall, he tried his best to stand up straight like she taught him. He didn’t want her to be mad anymore. He wanted her to forgive him.

His stepfather’s voice was stern as he spoke to his mother, presumably trying to get to the bottom of her consistent violent tendencies toward her son. Lucian knew it wouldn’t get anywhere. It never did.

“What did he do?”

Michelle hesitated for a moment, almost as if she was debating on whether or not to tell the truth. “…He pissed the bed again.”

Ryan didn’t take kindly to that explanation. “You’re hitting him like he did it on purpose! He’s only six!”

“Yeah, six! He’s way too old to be pissing himself at night! What, Ryan? You want me to put diapers on him or do you want him to learn not to fucking piss all over the place when he’s sleeping?!”

“How the hell is beating him going to stop that?! No one can control what they do when they’re sleeping! Are you hearing yourself?!”

“Surely a six-year-old can come tell his mother whenever he pissed all over himself, right? And not throw himself whenever I tell him to get in the shower? He cries and cries and cries whenever I tell him to wash himself off because he’s a disrespectful little brat! ‘Don’t make Daddy wash me, I can wash myself!’ Then he stands in the bathroom for twenty minutes doing God knows what!”

“So, hold on, you’re beating him like that because he cried about getting in the shower? But he got in the shower, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he got in the shower after twenty minutes of me fucking begging him.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem? Why’re you beating him after he cleaned himself off?”

“Because he was still crying like a little girl when he came out, so I gave him something to cry about. He needs to learn how to shut his fucking mouth when I tell him to. Little slut can’t do it for more than five seconds.”

“What the fuck did you just call him?!”

“A slut! You want me to call him over here so I can say it to his face?! He’s stupid fucking slut!”

“He’s six!”

Upon hearing that, Michelle grabbed her car keys and started putting on her coat. Ryan followed her around the house, trying to get his point entirely across and prevent her from running off again.

“Don’t run away, Michelle! You need to apologize for what you said! That little boy has done nothing to you! Nothing! And yet, every fucking night, it’s always something! ‘He didn’t put his clothes away right’ or ‘he didn’t put his dish in the dishwasher!’ He’s only in the first grade! You’re treating him like he’s some fucking prisoner!”

Following her into the kitchen where her pack of cigarettes laid on the table, Ryan tried to grab her arm and yank her back. She shoved him away.

“I’m tired of you telling me how to raise my kid. I can do and say whatever the fuck I wanna to him. I gave birth to him. I feed him. I put clothes on his back. I give him a place to stay. He needs to act right.”

“Look how you’re talking about him. ‘I give my kid basic necessities to live, look at what a good mother I am!’ Seriously, Michelle. Wake up. You’re going to do him so much damage that you’re not even gonna recognize him anymore. You’re fucking with his brain. You’re abusing him.”

“SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!”

Despite being in the next room, Lucian flinched from her voice. He pressed his forehead against the wall harder, clenching his eyes shut and crying silently to himself. He was terrified of what she was capable of doing. He knew that one wrong move could result in another fist-fight between the two.

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT RAISING A KID! WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU SAY?!”

“Michelle—!”

“YOU KNOW EVERYTHING I SAY IS TRUE! THAT KID IS GOING TO BECOME JUST LIKE HIS FATHER! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?! I ALREADY SEE IT IN HIS EYES!”

“You don’t—!”

“STOP PRETENDING TO CARE! YOU DON’T FUCKING CARE! WE BOTH KNOW THE REASON WHY YOU’RE DOING THIS!”

“What’s the reason, Michelle? You tell me.”

Silence. Long, dreadful silence.

And with that, the front door slammed shut and shook the entire house. Lucian continued to stare at the wall even in her absence, but allowed himself to stop holding back his tears. He loved his mother. He knew somewhere deep inside, she loved him too. He just wished she’d stop being such a bitch.

He hated how loud his sniffles and whimpers were now that she was gone. As he predicted in less than a second, Ryan approached him because of it. He tensed up and clutched at his shirt, trying his hardest not to do anything to make him upset.

Ryan kneeled down beside him silently. “…It’s okay, Bunny. You’re not in trouble.”

Even with that assurance, Lucian continued to face the wall. “I don’t want Momma to be mad at me anymore…”

Ryan grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away from the wall. This only caused him to cry more.

“I-I didn’t mean to. I promise I didn’t. I-It just happened and…!”

“I know, honey. I’m not mad at you.”

Lucian averted his eyes. Ryan moved closer and rubbed his upper arms in an attempt to console him.

“Do you ever wake up when it happens?”

“Sometimes…” he murmured, truly ashamed of himself. “But I don’t wanna wake her up ‘cause she’ll get really mad at me…”

“Well, you can always wake me up instead.”

Finally, they made eye contact. Ryan saw his little stepson staring back at him with wide, tearful eyes. Lucian saw his stepfather staring at him with those same dark and cold eyes that haunted his conscience. Even with a soothing voice and warm expression, those callous eyes gave up the facade. Lucian understood it was a reflection of who he truly was on the inside — unfeeling and cruel.

Lucian wiped his tears with his sleeve, feeling Ryan’s hands lowering to his hips.

“Do you go to the bathroom before bed? Are you sure you’re not holding it?”

“I-I’m not. I just get really scared a-and then it happens.”

“Scared? Scared of what, honey?”

Lucian’s eyes widened as he recalled it. He shuddered and shook his head, refusing to tell him until he got closer. When he did, he panicked.

“I…I have really bad dreams.”

Ryan hesitated before asking. “About what?”

“Please don’t be mad…”

“Of course I won’t be.”

Lucian lowered his head and stared at the floor. He couldn’t look at him when he said it. It hurt too much to see those same eyes that fell upon his nude body before, full of lust and desire.

“You.”

There was a long while of silence. Lucian couldn’t bear to look him in the face, but especially not in the eyes. He hated them. He truly did.

Ryan’s arms met his waist as he pulled him in for a tight embrace. Lowering his hands from his face Lucian stood motionless, staring into space while a million thoughts swarmed through him. He didn’t know what to do or think. At least, not until Ryan started speaking.

“It’s okay.” His voice was eerily quiet as he whispered in his ear rather than speaking with his chest. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

Lucian sobbed into his shoulder, feeling safe enough to accept his embrace and wrap his arms around him too. It felt nice to be held.

“Daddy…” he cried, moving closer in response to Ryan’s hands stroking his sore back.

“I love you, Bunny. You know that, right?”

Ryan pressed his lips against Lucian’s cheek. Now Lucian felt guilty. He always made him feel guilty.

“I really do love you. Please don’t ever think that I don’t. I know I’ve hurt you, I know I have, but I want to make it better.” He held Lucian even tighter. “I just love you so much…I know it’s wrong, Bunny. I know.”

Ryan’s voice made him even sadder. He loved his stepfather just as much as his mother. Even if he was scared of him, even if he knew that he’d still hurt him after this, he loved him all the same.

Sweeping him off his feet and carrying him over to the couch, Ryan rested his stepson on his lap. His hair was glued to his round face from all the tears his eyes produced, so Ryan began gently combing it back with his fingers, looking at him with those same dark eyes as before. Lucian trembled from his touch. As much as he loved physical affection, he could never be sure what was going through Ryan’s mind as he did it. At any second, he could hurt him again with the same calloused hands that held his petite frame lovingly.

“Does it still hurt where she hit you?”

Lucian’s eyes accidentally met his. “Mhm…”

“Can I see?”

Lucian never denied him. Getting off his lap and turning around, he lifted his shirt up a little so he could see all the fresh bruises. Adrenaline zipped through his veins when he felt him grab the end of his shirt and lift it up more. In response to that, Lucian quickly turned back around and pulled his shirt down as far as it could go. Ryan looked at him with a sad glint in his eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Bunny. Okay? I promise I won’t.”

Lucian shook his head.

“Listen to me. Lay down so I can see it.”

It was sad how easy it was to get Lucian to listen. All he had to do was raise his voice just a notch lower than before.

Lowering his head onto Ryan’s lap, Lucian sprawled out across the couch so he could his back better. Various patches of red, purple, and blue were scattered across the little boy’s pale skin. It was sickening to see all the different colors and shades spread out before his eyes. Some were fresh, some were old, but his little body desperately worked to heal all of them. In the end, it didn’t matter if it succeeded or not. The wounds returned too quickly.

His silence caused Lucian discomfort. He tried to lift his head to see what he was doing, but he got too scared and put it back down.

Eventually, Ryan released him and stood back up, towering over his petite frame. “Take a little nap, honey. I’ll wake you up when breakfast is ready.”

Lucian lifted his head to look at him one last time. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, Bunny. Of course not.”

“…Are you mad at Mommy?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about things like that, baby.”

Lucian felt warm inside. “…Okay.”

Ryan covered him up with a thin blanket and pushed his hair from his face, planting a kiss on his wet cheek.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too. Always.”

Without alcohol in his system, his Daddy really did love him — Lucian knew it wouldn’t be long before his sobriety wore off and he picked up another bottle but until then, he loved him all the same. It just sucked how his heartbeat didn’t regulate until he was out of sight.

#oc: lucian williams #101’s wpw #oc shit #oc backstory

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retphienix · 4 months ago

Text

I enjoyed rambling about the warbonds for my own sake, here's a somehow even more subjective list on the support weapons because helldivers is a game.

Extensive reasoning for my bullshit below the readmore but more or less this is roughly the order I'd go for. B rank sounds more dismissive than it should in retrospect- it genuinely is "B" rank not "bad" rank.

You could definitely juggle around in the general areas but this is where I'm at currently.

The BA shotgun is best discussed below.

S rank are the three support weapons I think most thoroughly define a playstyle- and that I like even if I don't use 2 of the 3.

AT / Generalist / Add clear

A rank are the reliable non-backpack AT and the AMR for its support uses against bots and squids.

B rank is pretty much everything I think "Does a job, or provides general damage pretty well, but not well enough for me in most cases" ranging from general purpose weapons to weapons I find unsatisfying to use due to AH adjusting them in ways I find kinda "bleh" (too many fully charged unsafe shots on rail or too slow firerate on arc) or weapons I find HYPER specialized to do one mission type fantastically and kinda just "work" outside of it (grenade launcher).

C rank has the weapons I generally dislike the gameplay design of, tbh. Wasp and Airburst are actually tied, but Spear is bottom for sure. The Wasp CAN kill mediums and hurt heavies, but downsides. The Airburst CAN kill groups, but downsides. The Spear CAN kill heavies, but downsides. And those downsides, whoa buddy.

And D rank are the two weapons I just generally disagree with their design fundamentally AND think can't accomplish much of worth. A glorified primary weapon that accomplishes nothing of worth and a nerfed flamethrower relying on a status effect that is half as effective as a stun with twice the duration (so it's fair! Them's math!).

Sterilizer: Don't even bother

It's just bad. I'm sorry.

The entire design just seems devoid of gameplay centric thinking. As in I think they thought "Wouldn't this fit in lore!" and then forgot they are making a video game so designing it to work the way it works just makes it Bad.

Gameplay wise, it's a flamethrower with way less damage, no (meaningful) lingering area denial (1/4 of a second vs 10 seconds flamethrower ground burn) and the payoff of....

being a clunkier, less reliable (they can still attack you) stun grenade with double the duration to make up for being worse at the whole "crowd control" thing.

AND you spend your support weapon slot on it. AVGN "what were they thinking" type ass design.

AMR: Actually good

Not my favorite tool by a long shot (ha!), but at multiple points in the game's life I've found it to be a damned nice option.

In the current game it's a completely viable option against bots if you want to be the hulk drop guy who doubles in making sure the team isn't swarmed with missiles and heavy devs, and against squids it can neuter tripods in a couple seconds (if not kill) as well as being an INSANELY fast shield drop option against ships if you're not using a tool to ignore the shields completely.

Machine Gun: Better than nothing

Admittedly, could be in actually useful but I'm a touch harsh on it.

The MG is a delight to use- when you're team or strategems are taking care of all the heavy units for you. And that's kinda the issue, isn't it?

For my gameplay I don't really need a tool that makes light work of light+medium enemies, I need something to make heavy units more manageable because our arsenal of primaries and secondaries (and plenty of strategems) can easily delete fodder units. The MG kind of functions as an "S tier primary" weapon, but it's a support weapon, that's the issue.

When playing with friends, or on a lower difficulty (especially), or dedicating most of your other loadout slots towards AT stuff, it's a joy to use- so it's definitely on the higher end of B(etter than nothing).

Stalwart: Don't even bother (putting the L in Lmao)

Certified stalwart hater here, what a fucking pointless weapon lol

Waste your support slot on a weapon that's basically a C rank primary, oh but it's a bullet hose! Isn't that cool? lmao

The thing could be made a primary tomorrow and I still wouldn't main it. I WOULD use it though, but that's a world in which AH reworks light pen entirely because they would never give a light pen "this good" (it's not good) in the same category as the current light pen options lol

EATs: Actually good

This would easily be S rank as hell if this was a handful of months ago- I adored the EAT meta.

The buffing of AT options kind of lowered the importance of the EAT by just making bringing dedicated AT actually good for once, but all things considered it deserves it's rest :)

Being able to just drop one in to take out whatever ailed you was fun, and the option still works!

You can still use EATs as your dedicated AT choice- it's just now on super helldive etc you're more likely to be grasping at that cooldown timer- lower difficulties it still does well though :)

Now-a-days it's mostly replaced by dedicated AT, or the commando which does a great job of being a side-grade EAT by being juuuuust different enough (and having a slightly more committal cooldown timer).

Good weapon. A credit to disposable support weapons everywhere- I hope we see more actually good disposables going forward :)

Recoilless: Super Earth Approved

The recoilless is my beloved. I love being the AT guy with this thing, I love having a delete button, I love that it feels earned because I give up a backpack slot (that's right! I'm saying part of my love is a downside because it FEELS right!).

The Recoilless is my current favorite support weapon, and it took a long time (and significant buffs) to get here.

But what is there to say?

Depending on your POV it's either the bane of the game's balance problems because it's a delete button or it's one of the best designed options because it does what it's supposed to do with meaningful downsides for that power. I'm in the latter :)

I find that more often than not if a run feels "carried" by a recoilless, it's because the entire team brought AT options and the recoilless just happened to do its job while appreciating the assistance- or the constellation decided to spawn like 3 heavies the entire round.

So I personally find complaints of its power to be a bit misplaced. A recoilless running around a corner to 5 hulks (as is the fuckin' norm) isn't suddenly the only war machine left in the area, there's just 4 hulks and a recoilless user diving to reload now lol

Flamethrower: Super Earth Approved

This is a funny one because I don't ever use the flamethrower in my day-to-day diving. I prefer to focus my support slots on taking out big targets at range and in a quick fashion- the flamethrower doesn't really fit that role.

But the role it does fit is fucking wonderful lol

Being able to just drag a swarm of bugs and turn around for a quick burst of fire as your kill combo hits triple digits is a blast AND it's useful for the team! (assuming you pull properly lol)

Not much to say. It's not an AT weapon (though capable of course), it's a fodder clear weapon, but it's a fucking sensational one at that.

Spear: Don't even bother Addendum, C rank because it TECHNICALLY kills when it wants.

I'm being excruciatingly kind in saying it's not some mythical F tier.

The only thing the spear has ever done well was the short period of time where it could lock onto and destroy fabricators before fabs were redesigned to have health and this became something any weapon could effectively do.

There might not be another support weapon I have less interest in using in the entire game. I hate this thing. The lock on is finicky by design- they clarify it constantly "It has to have a perfect flight path or it won't lock" but then a single twig can break lock on and a lock on DOES NOT mean it hits the target as it will gladly overshoot at medium to long range and circle to hit a wall.

"Just get good at the lock on" is the stupidest argument ever made because yes! You can learn the intricacies! And you know what you end up with! A dogshit rocket that needs you to clip its nails and read it a bed time story for the right line up to kill the simplest targets in the game!

Or!

You!

Can!

Just!

Shoot!

It!

With any other AT in the game.

Horribly implemented weapon. Just bad by design and with no redeeming qualities. I guess "spear" is a funny name for it since it's based on the Javelin.

Comando: Actually good

While it doesn't have the long and storied past of the EAT the Commando is basically "What if an EAT, but slightly different" and I really appreciate what it brings to the table :)

The laser guide works well (please replace all lock on weapons with laser guides), the way in which the damage is dispersed between the 4 rockets feels impactful and useful, and the cooldown is more than the EAT but is still reasonably quick and has the benefit of being just 1 weapon which simplifies how you deploy it.

Fantastic disposable.

Railgun: Better than nothing

I still think it's stupid that AH nerfed this weapon into the dirt as a scapegoat for the crossover bug, and then just baby stepped its buffs so it's remained so middling.

All considered, the current Railgun is "fine".

It's one of the most "fine" weapons in the game.

It genuinely has some strengths it's just kinda, weirdly lacking oomph in some ways when put in practice in my opinion.

It fulfills an interesting role as "support anti tank weapon" but that's such a bizarre role that it kind of feels like how the MG is a "medium enemy killer" when you can just. Do that more appropriately with other slots in your arsenal.

So here's the thing. AH clearly doesn't like that some people are good at using it, so they don't want it to be really really good in good player hands, that in and of itself is stupid to me. You risk EXPLODING when you use this thing.

But, luckily, it isn't in the dumps currently by any means.

The damage has been risen enough where against bugs and bots you have plenty of wonderful breakpoints that sound great on paper.

But in practice....

So against bugs, you're taking 2 FULLY CHARGED UNSAFE shots to take down a charger which is just barely too much weird time investment to feel good, and THREE fully charged unsafe headshots on biles which DEFINITELY doesn't feel remotely good, so like- you can have a backpack-less AT weapon that also drops the normal medium enemies exceptionally well in safe mode but every time you use it against an AT enemy you're like "This fuuuuuuuuuucking sucks and feels bad".

Then against bots you can safe mode visor shot hulks which feels great!

You can "mostly" charged unsafe drop a gunship, that's feels alright!

Then you can go fuck yourself because feeling good isn't AH's goal with this weapon, go double fully charge some unsafes on the vents of the tanks, I don't care that you're surrounded and there are multiple tanks and the tank is turning constantly- go do it.

Go waste (please don't) 6 fully unsafe shots on a single cannon turret, go fully unsafe charge 5 eye shots on a walker, like the numbers are all like "Oh that's not so many shots :)" until you remember it's asking you to fully unsafe charge all those fuckin' shots in the middle of getting shot at which can aim-punch you at any moment and a margin of error that can detonate you.

I just don't get it, it's a weapon that looks okay on paper and in practice feels far too brought down by its charging. And I guess it's all justified because it has no pack, like alright, I GUESS, TECHNICALLY, still feels bad.

Airburst: Can't really justify

I don't like the thing; It's a support weapon that's entire gimmick is "I can delete a patrol (mostly)" and while it's doing way better since getting the alt-fire and the "no longer proximity detonates on things it shouldn't" bugfix, it's still a teamkill gun.

I do consider it's potential good enough that it gets out of D rank though. In the right hands at the right time of day in the correct position with the right luck you can see this thing show you the meaning of "softening up" the enemy as it turns a massive horde into a manageable trickle.

Then the user will fire without noticing a scavenger or voteless or commissar nearby and 2 squadmates die.

HMG: Better than nothing

I genuinely can't decide if I think the MG or HMG is more deserving of B rank and if one should fall to C.

Genuinely, the HMG is kinda buns.

But.

It does still fulfill the "support add clear" role that the MG does (though, at an angle of sorts where you pull it out when necessary, because you don't want to use it like a pseudo primary like the MG) while being able to tack on the ability to shoot a few extra units that the MG can't, that's something?

The ammo is still a thing, and the actual versatility added by its heavy pen is constantly bouncing between "The Entire Point" and "Superfluous" so honestly I think both land close enough to both be in B rank.

All told, the MG and HMG as a duo are kinda meh, but they also still do some work, and what's the point of B rank if not giving weapons like that a home.

It kills medium targets better than the MG and that's kinda it's whole deal.

Autocannon: Super Earth Approved

I mean come on. I don't even use the fuckin' Auto and I can't find a way to justify putting it anywhere else.

The AC is like THE reliability button in this game.

If you want to be a benefit to the squad, can't go wrong with an AC.

Wanna clear some small guys? AC. Wanna tear up some big guys? Get around to a weak spot and pound em with the Auto. Wanna make all the medium guys stop existing? Have I Got The Cannon For You.

It doesn't hit BiS for any particular job, but it does damn near every job. A true "Jack of all trades, master of none, but more often than not better than a master of one." type weapon.

Wasp: Can't really justify

I'm honestly mostly a hater for this damn thing but I still feel it deserves the rank. If I was just going on full gut calls and not a more considered opinion, I'd be dogging on it.

It's a spear with better targeting (kinda, mostly just faster) and much weaker shots.

It's a rocket where guides and overviews and the like try to paint it as worthwhile by saying it can "heavily damage" targets- dude, it should KILL them, not just wake them up.

It does like one thing, and that's kill medium enemies, but since that's just about all it does that just makes it a worse MG and the MG isn't some gold standard.

It's an MG with lock on time, the (not unlikely) chance of missing if conditions aren't to its liking, and an inability to intentionally kill all the units it can't lock onto. Great, oh and what's that? It takes a backpack slot just to really plant the flag in mediocre city lol

Because it CAN hit heavy things and CAN be used as a quick burst of assistance by aiming at a horde and letting it decide what needs hurt, it's out of D rank for now.

It should be in D rank though.

I'm just feel generous.

Grenade Launcher: Better than nothing

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, my heart wants to put this higher but I just can't in full confidence say it deserves it in modern HD2.

At one point in time the grenade launcher was my baby, I was bringing this thing all the time to just instant drop nests like it was my job (because I pretty much made it my job).

But now we have so many options for nests, we have the grenade pistol, we have the pocket nuke, we have explosive primaries, we have a better understanding of strategem call ins- it just kinda feels like a one note tool in an arsenal where a lot of its contemporaries have been taking singing lessons.

That said, you can have some fun blowing up bugs and bots and the like, and you can make blitz missions go by even faster, and you can reliably use it to support your team. You just can't hurt a lot of enemy types and feel a touch shoehorned into nest clear.

Definitely has enough going for it to have a place. Just not high on the list.

Laser Cannon: Better than nothing

I'm not a fan- I don't like it.

But the heavy laser cannon is genuinely pretty alright.

Whenever I use it I feel like the heavy pen is a lie due to how often I see ricochet markers that make no sense- as if it hits the terrain behind a target and flashes the icon on my screen when I'm literally shooting a medium armor target, that's more of a ui bug fucking with my experience than actual gameplay though.

It's just solid. Just solidly outside of my interest range.

Arc Thrower: Better than nothing

For the first like 1-2 months of the game this was my favorite weapon in the entire game lol

I haven't really used it since the buffs through the ship upgrades, maybe I should.

Ever since they fucked with the fast fire strategy it's just been off my radar. It was a joy to just half charge span for tons of sustained damage output, now it just doesn't feel right.

I did give it the benefit of the doubt when they first changed it because you could stunlock hulks, then they removed that and I went "Well what's the fucking point" then they added it back in and reverted (and further buffed) the range change etc so by all accounts the weapon should be better than it was when I loved it.

But the last time I messed with it I was just dragged down by it's less responsive firing and having to deal with arc weapon "discharge" into terrain again.

All said, I need to give it another real go. I might enjoy the current iteration with some more playtime, but my heart still yearns for the fast firing of the past and my new favorites are usually AT related not "technically hurts heavies but the damage is really low" weapons like this one.

Quasar: Actually good

I have exceptionally little to say. It's a reliable AT weapon with infinite ammo on a recharge with no backpack.

To me, this is more my speed when it comes to "support AT weapons" unlike the railgun, because it just "does the thing" and the downsides are that you're confined to a recharge timer and your shots aren't quite as potent as some, as well as also utilizing a charge. It naturally pushes you to be the support AT player instead of the primary but you still feel like at any moment you can whip out a shot when needed.

The charge could be buffed a bit, but one big shot on a reliable charge just feels better than multiple inherently less reliable charged railgun shots to do the same. You get the charge downtime out of the way immediately and then swap to another weapon during the recharge downtime instead of most of your play being charge downtime etc.

It's nice.

Break Action Shotgun: A tier all its own

I'm not one of the weirdos going around saying anything actually positive about the BA shotgun. It's dogwater, it's supposed to be dogwater, it's a lore item that's functionality is a mere amusement rather than anything to actually care about.

If we're being completely honest here, I think it deserves only 1 buff, a tiny buff that changes nearly nothing.

It should have a demo force of 20.

That way it gives it a singular impactful purpose in the game beyond "challenging myself by wasting my support slot on this thing" and that's being a quick weapon to break open containers- of which it most often spawns next to.

This wouldn't make it so every crate suddenly has its 'key' next to it- they don't spawn like that, but it would grant it a very specific player interaction that feels "right".

Sort of like how the new entrenchment shovel POI spawns to show how you can use the shovel to dig? How it rewards you with some samples (usually) for playing with a toy in the video game?

The BA shotgun could do that with crates.

Also maybe it could legitimately be added to our arsenal for the silly players who want challenge loadouts- I say that with no mocking tone- that'd be a good change.

Players already do constitution runs- let us equip the BA shotgun as a primary, it'd be fantastic for that!

#retplays #helldivers 2

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ambrossart · 1 year ago

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Hi hello i absolutely love paper man best it fanfiction I've ever read. i just so happened to reread again and i have a couple of questions. they might be dumb but im curious!!

when evie burns herself with the glue gun and patrick wants to see it. can you explain why? is it because he wants to see her in pain or if he doesnt feel pain himself and hes interested by the idea of feeling something?

also i think it's funny how victors saw eves bright yellow panties and then she wears the yellow dress. was that on purpose or a coincidence?

last question im rambling sorry, can you explain why Patrick was so void of emotion when talking to evie about matin? like yeah he's usually very void and vague but it was reallyy emotionless well until he asks her if he should handle him lol. i just want to know what he was feeling and when he tells Evie something along the lines of its only her and him in the whole school. does he think evies real?

can't wait for more never stop being you ❤️

1) I'd say it's a bit of both, actually. Considering what we already know about Patrick, I think it's pretty safe to assume he derives some pleasure in seeing/inflicting physical pain on others. But I also think there's an element of curiosity to it. Innocent curiosity. It's hard to expand on that further without spoiling things, but Season 2 is all about Patrick. You'll be learning a lot about him then. Probably way more than you want to know.

2) You know, there are several yellow objects in the story. Evelyn's spirit week dress. The Band-Aid she put on Henry's cheek. Her pink-and-yellow quilt. And yes, even the panties she was wearing that night. When I think of Evelyn, that's the color that comes to mind, so... yeah, I purposefully made a lot of things yellow, especially if they're associated with Evelyn.

3) I assume you're talking about the scene in the science lab after Evelyn's assault? Well, there's a couple things at play here:

Patrick is incapable of empathy. If feelings were colors, this boy would be colorblind. He genuinely cannot grasp the full depth of Evelyn's suffering. He can’t imagine what she went through. He can't relate to what she went through. None of that is getting through to him. None of it.

Patrick has a very nonchalant attitude toward sexual assault and sex in general, if we're being totally honest. He's assaulted his fair share of women in the past, including Evelyn, and he's probably been assaulted himself a few times, especially in his youth. Patrick doesn't mind, though. It's just sex, after all. Sometimes it gets a little violent. 🤷🏻‍♀️

In Patrick's eyes, Evelyn got off easy with Martin, a known rapist, which is why he basically says, "Hey, at least you weren't raped, right?" It's not a very kind thing to say, but it's true. It could've been a lot worse.

And if it had turned out worse, I think Patrick’s response would be a lot different. It would still come from a very selfish place, but it would be different: stronger and more severe.

Setting all of that aside, I wouldn't say Patrick was entirely devoid of emotion. Evelyn's situation definitely affected him, just not in the way it would affect most people.

Patrick is wired differently. I think that's the simplest way to put it.

4) As for your last question, well… yeah, I'm not gonna answer that. I can’t answer that. I do love that line, though. I think it says a lot about Patrick and his feelings toward Evelyn. The boy’s intense, like scary intense.

Thank you so much for reading! 💖

#answered asks #thanks for the ask!#bowers gang #patrick hockstetter #it stephen king #it 2017 #it fanfiction #paper men #ambrossart

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felixcloud6288 · 2 years ago

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Fullmetal Alchemist Chapter 99

Very first thing we're told in the chapter is that Buccaneer will bleed to death if he pulls that sword out. Now we know it's a big deal when he does that later.

Foo managed to rotate his sword to hit Greed with the broad side.

Between Greed and Foo, I think Foo is the more difficult opponent for Wrath to fight. At the very least, Foo has the greater range with his weapon and Greed is more likely to make mistakes because his shield and healing gives him that luxury.

I felt like there was a page missing in this chapter. We see Wrath jump between Foo and Greed's kicks, then in the next panel, Greed is prone, one of Wrath's daggers is embedded in his jacket, and Wrath is stomping the dagger and Greed's face into the ground.

Also, based on some details I'll get to in a second, the dagger Wrath pinned Greed with was the one in his right hand but he stomps down on it with his left foot.

Last chapter, Foo chipped the dagger Wrath had in his left hand. When he takes Foo's sword, he throws that same dagger at him. The dagger breaks after a few clashes, leaving Foo open to Wrath's finishing blow.

So Wrath was making very deliberate, coordinated actions the entire time. He removed Greed from the fight by pinning him to the ground, but he also deliberately used the good dagger and kept the one that was about to break.

Then with his attention fully on Foo, he used the design of Foo's sword to forcefully disarm him. And he gave Foo the nearly broken dagger to ensure Foo doesn't retreat or pull out another weapon.

Finally, Wrath just kept on the offensive until Foo's weapon finally broke.

When Greed lost control of Lin's body, his shield deactivated.

Lin had told Bradley he relies too much on his eyesight. And Buccaneer proved it true.

In almost all scenes with Lin-Greed, if we see the right eye, that means Lin is in control, and if we see the left eye, Greed is in control. But I think this is the first time we can clearly see both of his eyes.

Considering the teeth, this is Greed who's in control. So is Greed the one who's crying?

Back with team Ed, they're suddenly facing all the leftover President candidates who didn't get a shot at becoming Wrath. It's so creepy how devoid of personality those men are. They had the potential to become Fuhrer King Bradley but Candidate #12 was the first to pass the final test, so they no longer had a purpose.

Maybe some of them tried to run away. Maybe some of them ended their own lives. But whatever happened, these remaining fighters have given up any sense of personal will.

These two guys were standing behind #12 in his flashback in chapter 53.

Maybe #12 saw some of them after he had become King Bradley. He had known them since infancy. And all his fellow candidates were either dead or forced to live the rest of their lives in grueling training. The only thing separating #12 from the still living candidates was that he was before them in the line.

Maybe that played even further into his nihilism and a potential sense of hatred for Father. They were all told they are being prepared for a grand purpose, but then the others were quickly discarded when no longer needed. And #12 would have been discarded just as casually.

Wrath just exists for a purpose, and it's nothing but whims and chance that allowed him to become who he is.

When the doctor activates the transmutation circle to capture the human sacrifices, we get to see where the 5 labs are located in relation to each other.

In Chapter 40, Hawkeye drew a circle on a map around Lab 3 based on her estimates about the passageway they'd traveled through. Al pointed out Lab 2 was completely in the circle, and Roy pointed out the circle just barely touched Central HQ and the President's estate.

The Presidential estate is on the Northeast corner of Central HQ. So Lab 3 is the northeast lab on the above image. But this means there's a bit of a geographic inconsistency, because the radial distance from Lab 3 to Central HQ is shorter than the radial distance to any other lab based on the map.

back

#fullmetal alchemist reread #fullmetal alchemist

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yaminerua · 2 years ago

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Had to rush this one to get it out after a busy day today kept me from being able to get started on it sooner.

Day 3's prompt was Attack and I had a little fun with it;;;

As always the Smegtober prompt list is by @a-literal-toaster-wtf

Every now and then there's gotta be something that breaks the monotony of life on Red Dwarf.

Words: 3928

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Life on board Red Dwarf was pretty uneventful these days. The ship was quiet and dead, devoid of the hustle and bustle that used to permeate every last corridor. Gone were the days of sucking up to superiors in the hope of advancing up the ziggurat. There were no superiors anymore – no Frank Todhunter to submit endless complaint reports to about Lister, no Captain Hollister to salute elaborately in front of in the hopes that sheer enthusiasm and dedication would be enough to secure a promotion. There was just about no-one at all, save of course, infuriatingly, for one David Lister, Third Technician – the last living human being, presumably in the entire universe. What a joke that was.

With only Lister as the single lazy, disobedient subordinate beneath him on a ladder that now only had two rungs left, and the only other life form on board being a bizarre humanoid Cat person who kept largely to himself and could hardly be counted on to give a smeg about anything beyond his own personal appearance, the ship was practically being left to run itself.

Sure, Rimmer tried to maintain some sense of discipline and order but with no-one around who actually respected his authority he was largely stuck ordering the skutters around and making demands of the ship’s increasingly absent-minded computer.

In spite of the futility of it all, he was just happy to have some sense of routine he could stick to, a sense of purpose beyond supposedly being ‘entertainment’ for Lister’s sanity’s sake. He mourned the living, breathing corporeal body he had lost 3 million years ago, of course, and the prospects of advancement and attaining officership that had died with him but at the same time there was a small part of him that was at least a little bit relieved to have an excuse not to have to keep trying to sit exams on subjects he couldn’t understand. You couldn’t fail if you couldn’t pick up the pen to sit the exam in the first place, right?

Being a hologram meant that technically he didn’t really need sleep, certainly not in the natural way a living body would need it, but a routine was a routine and even if he didn’t need it, it was good to be able to switch off for a bit and rest before another day of bossing around whoever would listen dawned. That was what he was doing now, lying as he was on the bottom bunk of the old grey bunk room, listening to the maddening sounds of Lister’s snoring emanating from the bunk above.

If he had had solid legs to kick with he would have given the underside of Lister’s bunk a good hard thump and shouted for him to shut the smeg up but in truth it wouldn’t have achieved much. Lister always started snoring again anyway.

He groaned, wishing fervently that he could even bury his head with a pillow to muffle the noise but that again would have required a body that could interact with its surroundings. Arnold Rimmer didn’t have that luxury anymore.

He tried to distract himself with something – anything – to try to help him drift off to sleep and had just about found a method that was beginning to actually work when the little screen on the wall above the washbasin suddenly lit up and the perpetually impassive face of the ship’s computer flickered into view.

“Emergency. There’s an emergency going on,” Holly announced flatly, as though it was the most boring, unimportant news ever, and then waited a beat. “It’s still going on.”

Rimmer’s eyes snapped open and he jerked immediately upright so violently his head momentarily phased disturbingly through the underside of the bunk above. Correcting his position, he swiftly swung his legs round off the bed and turned to stare bewildered and alarmed up at the screen.

“What!?” he cried, already feeling the creeping claws of panic begin to close in around his chest. “What is it? What’s going on?”

Holly regarded him with the same misplaced bored disinterest with which he approached most things.

“It’s an emergency, Arnold,” he said.

“Yes I know that you gimboid!” Rimmer snapped, not at all in the mood for Holly’s impassive, deadpan lack of urgency. “What kind of emergency?”

If Holly had been offended by the insult, he made no attempt to show it.

“A rogue ship has appeared,” he explained simply. “Probably want to loot us for everything we’ve got. They’ve fired a few test shots at us already.”

“Fired a few shots!?” Rimmer echoed, horrified, leaping fully to his feet. “We’re under attack!?”

“That’s usually what being shot at implies isn’t it?”

“Smegging hell…” He dragged his fingers through the tight brown curls of his hair and turned frantically to look at the top bunk to see how Lister was taking the news only to find that its occupant was still sleeping soundly, utterly oblivious to the situation. “Lister!” he hissed, and then when that inevitably had no effect, he leaned in closer and shouted. “Lister, wake up you moron! We’re under attack!”

Lister jerked awake suddenly at the noise, almost toppling straight out of the bunk in surprise before he managed to catch himself just in time. He blinked groggily, confused, and dragged a hand tiredly across his face, peeling one eye open to squint unappreciatively at Rimmer. “Huh? What?” he said intelligently and Rimmer could only roll his eyes in response.

“Some help you are in a crisis…” he muttered, incredulous with exasperation, before leaning forwards to hiss urgently into Lister’s sleep-crumpled face. “Get this through your tiny little brain: We – are – under – attack!”

It took only a moment longer for Rimmer’s words to sink in but when they did, almost instantly Lister snapped to attention, leaping off the top bunk with an athleticism that did not match his physique and fixing Holly with a look of alarm that now perfectly matched Rimmer’s.

“Under attack? Holly ‘s this true?” he asked, grabbing his jacket from where he’d tossed it earlier in the night and pulling it on hurriedly over his bare arms.

Holly nodded solemnly on the screen. “Sure is, Dave, but I’m managing it for now,” he said, a self-satisfied tone of confidence detectable in his voice. “Shields will only hold out for so long though, mind you. Not what they used to be after 3 million years.”

“What are they? More humans?” he asked, curious and hopeful even as he anticipated the more likely response.

“Don’t know,” Holly supplied helpfully. “They didn’t respond to any transmissions I sent out. Maybe not interested in a friendly handshake. Best guess would be rogue droids or something.”

“Or aliens,” Rimmer added, nodding vigorously. “Hostile aliens that’ve come to do weird things to the lot of us.”

Holly regarded him for a moment before nodding along slowly. “Yeah,” he said flatly. “Or that.”

Lister dragged a disbelieving hand across his hair, tangling his fingers in the base of his locs at the back and tugging anxiously. “Smeg…” he breathed helplessly, unsure of his next move. “What can we do? Can we outrun them? Can we fight back?”

Beside him Rimmer clicked his tongue and let out a short, curt, humourless bark of a laugh. “Lister, this is a mining ship not a battle cruiser. How could we possibly hope to fight back? I say we try to lose them somehow. Give them the slip.”

Lister shot him a dubious look and smiled sarcastically. “Oh yeah. Ship the size of a massive city floating through deep space. An easy thing to hide, Rimmer.”

Rimmer’s nostrils flared in indignation and he put one hand on his hip and the gestured expectantly at Lister with the other. “Well do you have any better ideas, dog breath?”

Lister frowned and sucked in his lips, tapping the end of one of his locs against his chin repeatedly. His eyes were darting all around the room rapidly, his mind racing to come up with something but nothing particularly helpful was coming to mind. With no better suggestions forthcoming he conceded that at least for now, Rimmer’s suggestion was better than nothing.

“Can we outspeed them, Hol?”

Holly inclined his head in what was probably intended to be a non-committal shrug. “Well, it’s worth a try, I s’pose. Mind you, I’m not too good with multitasking these days. It’s hard work maintaining the shields and diverting enough power to the thrusters at the same time. Might not cope.”

“Well, it’s all we’ve got so get on with it!” Rimmer snapped, impatient, his entire hologrammatic form feeling like it was about to glitch out from the stress of the situation.

If there was anything that could be done to get this whole mess over with as soon as possible – preferably in a way that did not result in having themselves scattered across the vast expanse of space – he didn’t want to be wasting any more time with useless chit-chat. If the shields really were at risk of imminent failure then time was absolutely of the essence.

Holly didn’t seem to be getting the memo, however. He seemed quite content to sit right where he was and explain in detail the difficulty involved in trying to perform two powerful, energy-draining commands at once whilst also maintaining the rest of Red Dwarf’s vital operational systems, as if there wasn’t currently a major situation taking place that needed dealt with.

“Look,” Lister groaned, aggravated, cutting in before Rimmer could open his mouth to let the inevitable argument ensue. “Let’s just hurry down to the Drive Room and see if there’s anything we can do in there. Maybe we can take some of the strain off Holly by doin’ it manually.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Dave,” Holly said, nodding appreciatively.

“No problem, Hol,” Lister said, waving a hand in acknowledgement as he made his way swiftly out of the room. “Let’s go, Rimmer.”

Rimmer stared stupidly after him, utterly dumbfounded. He didn’t seem to agree with Holly’s assessment of Lister’s capability at all. “What, we’re putting our lives in your hands?” he cried, hurrying after him, gesticulating wildly at the ridiculousness of the situation before pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers and scrunching up his face. “God, we’re doomed.”

Lister sat himself down at one of the control panels and fixed him with a tired, unamused frown.

“Are you gonna stand there complaining or are you gonna do somethin’ to help me out then?”

“What do you expect me to do?” Rimmer cried, holding his arms out and gesturing broadly, pointedly, to himself. “I’m a hologram! I can’t exactly push buttons and flip switches anymore can I?”

“Smeg…” Lister groaned, pressing his fingers into his temple and rubbing irritably. He didn’t have time for Rimmer’s snippy sarcasm right now. There would be plenty of opportunities for him to take offense at Lister forgetting the one little detail of his hologrammatic status later when their lives weren’t at stake. What mattered right now, in the meantime, was actually getting there.

“Right,” he said, defeated, seeing no other alternative option. “Go get the Cat. We need all the hands we can get.”

“The Cat?” Rimmer all but spat derisively, unhelpfully, in response. “What good’s that git going to do? He won’t listen to either of us.”

“He will if he thinks his wardrobe’s about to get blasted to bits.”

Rimmer had to admit he couldn’t argue with that logic. The Cat was a fickle, self-absorbed creature even at the best of times but if he could be relied on for one thing it would be self-preservation (and by extension the preservation of his clothes) and right now, for once, perhaps that would work to their advantage.

“Fine,” Rimmer huffed reluctantly, turning on his heel to hurry off down the corridor. “Anything to get this over with.”

Lister shook his head as he watched him go and then swivelled round on the chair, turning his attention back to the confusing array of screens and buttons before him, each one more incomprehensible than the one before it.

He squinted, perplexed, at one screen in particular before glancing at another and then back to the first again, brows knitting together in a frown. Something was odd.

“Where are they, Hol?” he asked, tapping a few buttons to try to adjust the readouts on one of the screens. “I can’t see anything. Nothin’s showin’ up on the scanners.”

“Well, they’re using a cloaking device of some kind, aren’t they?” Holly replied stolidly and matter-of-factly, as though it was a perfectly obvious answer. “Gone invisible. Don’t worry, though, I’ve got ‘em.”

The furrowed crease in Lister’s brow only deepened further as he continued to frown down at the console, casting his gaze repeatedly across the energy output data displayed on a small screen to his right.

“I don’t see any power readings for shields or anything else on these screens either…”

“Well, you wouldn’t would you? I’m taking care of all that so you don’t have to.”

Lister straightened up a little in his set, little seeds of doubt sprouting in his mind as he recalled something Rimmer had said earlier about Red Dwarf’s combat capabilities (or lack thereof). Something wasn’t adding up here.

“Hang on,” he said slowly, taking one long final sweeping glance at all the screens in front of him, the beginnings of a knowing yet exhausted smile starting to tug upwards on the corners of his lips. “Red Dwarf doesn’t have any shields does it? This is a load of old tot isn’t it, Hol?”

Holly blinked, an affronted frown creasing his face. “You what?”

The grin blossomed further across Lister’s face as he fixed Holly with a simultaneously amused and accusatory look. “This is another joke,” he said, this time with absolute certainty. “You’re playing us for fools again!”

Holly’s usually impassive features crumpled into something that looked positively scandalised. “I resent that accusation, Dave,” he said, offended. “I’m a highly intelligent supercomputer, utterly dedicated to the wellbeing of my crew and the running of the—”

“It’s true though isn’t it?” Lister cut him off, mouth splitting open now in a toothy, gerbil-like grin, the brown of his eyes twinkling in triumph.

He watched, victorious, as a look of defeated realisation flashed across Holly’s eyes and he knew then for sure that he had him read like an open book.

Holly dropped the offended act and his mouth quirked upwards into in impish, conspiratorial smile, how own eyes positively gleaming with mischief.

“I had you there for a minute though, didn’t I?”

“Smegging hell, Holly,” Lister breathed, dropping his head back onto the chair and letting out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a ragged sigh of relief, his whole body growing limp and heavy where he sat, all of that wound up tension and anxiety draining out of him in a sudden rush leaving him feeling thoroughly exhausted. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. What’d you go and do that for?”

“Well it’s a laugh innit?” came the simple deadpan reply.

He laughed in spite of himself, dragging the back of his hand across his forehead and fighting the urge to let himself fully devolve into hysterics. The absurd reality of the situation was sinking in and the ridiculousness of it all was making him feel oddly giddy.

“I’m 3 for 3 now,” Holly went on, sounding very pleased with himself. “An absolute king of japes, I am. No-one can touch me. I am without a doubt the undisputed, undefeated prankster prince.”

Lister simply shook his head and grinned, fully beside himself with disbelief at this point and absolutely not prepared in the slightest for the fallout this was likely to cause.

“Man, Rimmer’s gonna go absolutely spare when he finds out…”

As if right on cue, the hurried, aggravated tones of one Arnold Rimmer came echoing back down the hallway, accompanied by the unmistakable clacking of heeled boots on metal flooring and before long he rounded the corner looking thoroughly harassed, followed closely behind by the Cat, dressed in a fancy satin dressing gown, the decorative sleep mask he’d been wearing pushed up over his forehead, exaggerating the depth of his unamused frown.

“Alright, Lister,” Rimmer said, straightening up and placing his hands on his hips. “I brought the Cat, now what’s happening?”

“This better be worth it!” the Cat snapped petulantly, reaffixing the belt around middle and shooting Rimmer an unappreciative glare. “I was in the middle of an incredible dream! It had stringy things and pretty cat girls and everything!”

“Will you for once try giving a single solitary smeg about something other than yourself?” Rimmer hissed through gritted teeth and before the Cat could open his mouth to make a response Lister waved the both of them quiet.

“It’s alright, guys, you can calm down. Everythin’s fine.”

Rimmer blinked down at him, bemused. “What?” he asked, looking searchingly round at the surrounding screens as though they might stand a better chance at providing him an explanation. “Why? What’s happened? Did we lose them?”

Lister shook his head. “No.”

“No? Then wh—”

“It was a prank.”

“A pr—” Rimmer started, not comprehending and then he faltered altogether.

There was a beat, then, probably no more than a few seconds in length, during which the weight of Lister’s words slowly sank in to Rimmer’s stunned, utterly stupefied mind but when they finally did the resultant expected eruption was absolutely earth shattering.

“A PRANK!?” he bellowed, eyes bulging and nostrils flaring, the hands at his hips curling into tight, white-knuckled fists and bracing themselves furiously at his sides. “This was all just a prank!?”

“Yeah,” Lister said simply, unaffected by the outburst, inclining his head towards Holly’s display monitor. “Another one of Holly’s classic japes. There is no ship, he just made it up.”

Another beat, and then:

“WHAT!?”

Rimmer looked positively wild with anger, as though he was at risk of popping a vein at any moment. His face had darkened and his jaw was set so tight that any other man might have crushed his own teeth to dust from the pressure his whole body was brimming with.

He whipped his head round to scowl furiously at Holly’s inane, smiling face, his own contorted expression absolutely incandescent with rage. “Is this true?”

“Well, it’s a bit of entertainment, isn’t it? You have to admit things get pretty quiet round here most of the time. Can’t blame me for wanting to have a bit of fun every now and then.”

Rimmer was reaching apoplectic levels of rage by now. He didn’t know what to say. For the last several frantic moments he had been practically vibrating with panic, fearful for his life (or what amounted to one for him these days) and now he was being told it was all just a joke, just another deeply unfunny prank being played on them all by the world’s most deadpan sadist.

“You— You—!” he struggled uselessly to string together enough coherent words to formulate an insult before ultimately giving it up as a bad job. There simply wasn’t an insult specific enough to cover this.

He breathed out roughly, in one long, ragged, forceful breath and then he brought a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose and tried to will the anger to subside before it made him too dizzy to stand. “I really hate you sometimes, Holly…” he said eventually in a small, exhausted, utterly defeated voice. “I really, really do.”

Throughout all of this, as Rimmer progressed rapidly through the several stages of processing this whole mess, the Cat stood to the side shaking his head in disbelief and rolling his eyes.

“You mean to tell me you fools woke me up from my beauty sleep over some silly prank? I thought there was supposed to be an actual emergency! Now I gotta start my sleeping routine all over again! That is the last time I ever take orders from Goalpost-Head over here.”

With that, he turned promptly on his heel and made his way out, leaving Lister alone with a thoroughly despondent Rimmer who had by now sunk down shakily into a nearby chair and dropped his head in his hands.

“I don’t believe this,” he muttered into his palms, voice coming out muffled and muted. “I’m trapped on a floating rust bucket in the middle of deep space surrounded by children… If Hell exists this must be what it’s like…”

Lister regarded him with a raised eyebrow and a lop-sided, commiserative smile for a moment, equal parts sympathetic and exasperated. Sure, Holly’s little joke had given them all quite the scare but it wasn’t like he hadn’t pulled something similar before. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Holly to pull some decidedly unfunny practical joke to keep things interesting every now and again. Regardless of how well it was executed, it certainly staved of the worst of the boredom, of that there was no doubt.

An involuntary yawn ripped its way out of Lister’s mouth and he raised his arms up and arched his back away from the chair, pushing into the stretch. Now that the adrenaline rush from the initial panic had long-since subsided, he was well and truly ready to do nothing more than to clamber back up into his bunk and go back to sleep for a good several hours, and provided no actual emergencies decided to present themselves any time soon that was precisely what he intended to do.

Pushing off tiredly to his feet, he wobbled unsteadily on the spot for a moment before bending down to reach for Rimmer’s shoulder, intending simply to gingerly tap him to get his attention, but when his fingers inevitably passed straight through him instead of connecting with solid matter he jerked his hand back as though he’d been burnt and scowled down at it, inwardly cursing himself once again for forgetting that Rimmer couldn’t be touched. He was still getting used to that it seemed.

“Hey,” he said, opting instead for the only other available method of getting his attention, his voice dropping to something gentle and encouraging. “Let’s go back to sleep, eh?”

Rimmer lifted his head slowly and scowled miserably up at him, his eyes dark and hard, but Lister could see that there wasn’t any real fight left in him. Inclining his head towards the Drive Room exit, he indicated for Rimmer to follow him. “I dunno about you, but I could do with a lie in,” he said half through a second interrupting yawn.

Rimmer rolled his eyes. “You always have a lie in,” he said flatly, straightening up slightly, the faintest beginnings of a sarcastic smile beginning to pull on his lips. “You don’t know how to do anything else.”

Lister threw an impish grin back at him. “Yeah, but I’m thinking of making this one a marathon lie in. See if I can break me old record.”

Rimmer huffed a laugh in spite of himself, in spite of how utterly drained and exhausted he felt, and Lister felt a small warm swell of triumph bloom in his chest at that little victory.

Getting to his feet and following Lister to the exit and out into the corridor that led back to their shared sleeping quarters, Rimmer quietly, privately, conceded that maybe, just maybe, a lie in after all this sounded pretty good right about now.

#it's after 4am and I havent read this one back bc I just wanted to get it done and out so it might be a little messy #smegtober2023 #when this month is all over I'll maybe get round to tidying up some of these if i feel they need it;;

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