#his squip completely taking over him

[myths-tournaments]

Awful Characters Round 1 Part 1 (1/8)

Propaganda under the cut

THE SQUIP

It’s the evil supercomputer that tried to take over the world in order to make Jeremy popular. Also electrocuted and traumatized a handful of teenagers. It was manipulative, and forced Jeremy to listen and obey without question. Destroyed his friendship with Michael to become friends with popular kids, made Rich so suicidal he burned down his best friend’s house in an attempt to kill himself (technically it was Rich’s Squip, but they were synched up at the time, so it still counts). Dude just did awful things. Literally just listen to Be More Chill Part 1 and Pitiful children and you’ll get it. Yes it did all that. Consider this: it is blorbo. I’ve seen some crazy takes on the Squip. People really will just say anything on the internet.

WILLIAM AFTON

He sucks just… so bad. He’s an over the top villain who’s queercoded (the journals man. The journals).He apparently has a chamber that he locks people in and has them take a bunch of hallucinogenic gas. He can’t die. He’s been dead for decades. His son lived just the absolute worst life ever mainly because he looked like Will. He’s a wannabe mad scientist. His six year old undead robot daughter is more of a mad scientist than he is. His business partner hates his guts so much that said partner would rather burn to death than let him go free. He’s a furry. He doesn’t enjoy being a serial killer. He’s killed like twenty+ people in canon basically just for fun. He’s a theater kid. His fursuit has a time traveling ballpit at times. Every picture or drawing of him in the various threads of canon look like completely different people. He’s the worst

[sochilll]

Day Three of Pins and Patches Week! (See the prompt list here!)

Day 3: Crutches/Stairs

Read on Ao3

“Do you want to go right after school or just pick me up later?” Jeremy asked. He had Michael’s loose backpack strap in his hand. He did that a lot lately. Michael knew it was post-squip trauma. He knew Jeremy was making sure Michael didn’t disappear on him. But it did make Michael feel a bit like a dog on a leash. 

“I was thinking pick you up later. I kinda wanna change.”

Jeremy nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Me too probably.” He checked his phone. “Arcade closes at ten on weeknights so if we leave by like,” he looked to Michael, shrugging. “Five? We should be fine.”

“Five sounds good.” 

Jeremy’s eyes drifted over Michael’s shoulder. He put on a very forced smile. “Hey Jake!” He said with far too much enthusiasm. 

Jake didn’t wave. His hands were full of his crutches. He nodded at them both, eyes lingering on Michael before moving past them.

Michael cleared his throat. He hadn’t told Jeremy absolutely everything that had happened when they weren’t speaking. He’d told him almost everything. Really, there was only one thing he’d left out. 

At Jake’s Halloween party, after their… conversation, Michael hadn’t actually left. He’d intended to but then he got sort of lost and then there was a big group of people in the hallway in front of the door. So Michael was lingering in the kitchen because all the exits were blocked by people and at least here he could find something else to drink. 

And that was when Jake came in.

They didn’t talk that much. Despite Michael’s initial fear, Jake didn’t seem surprised or upset that Michael was there. He made easy conversation. He laughed at the one joke Michael could muster up.

They spent the rest of their interaction with their mouths otherwise occupied. Michael didn’t really know how it happened. Jake was the kind of guy to make the first move and Michael was sad and angry. And all of the sudden they were kissing. 

And then everything else happened and that particular moment hadn’t seemed very important to bring up to Jeremy. 

Except now they were all back at school and it was… normal? Sort of. Everyone was cordial. Rich was gone. Dropped out or moved schools, no one was really sure. Jake nodded at them in the halls. Chloe went back to ignoring their existence but Brooke and Jenna waved every now and then. 

None of them talked about what happened. Michael just sort of assumed he and Jake’s kitchen makeout session was included.

“Okay so five.” Jeremy zipped up his backpack. The late bell rang and the hallways were emptying. “Text me when you leave?”

Michael said he would even though they’d probably be on the phone the whole time they were home anyway. 

He called bye to Jeremy and started toward his fifth period class. He rounded a corner and there was Jake again. He was facing away from Michael, struggling to get down the stairs. His backpack was sliding off his shoulder. Michael wanted to turn and go the other way to class, but he wasn’t that heartless. 

“Do you need help?”

Jake glanced back at him. “Nah. Just… takes me a minute.” He got down one more step.

“Don’t they have elevators so you don’t have to do this?”

“Don’t need an elevator. I’m just fine.”

Despite the rumor mill’s insistence, Jake had not completely broken both legs. He’d broken one leg and sprained the opposite ankle. He was in a wheelchair for about a month. Michael suspected he was supposed to be in it longer, but he hated feeling like he couldn’t do everything on his own and he despised asking for help.

“Okay.” Michael dropped onto the step beside him. “It just seems like you’re having a little trouble.”

“I’m not.” Jake grunted as his backpack finally fell, catching in the crook of his elbow and unbalancing him. He didn’t fall but he tensed and then made a pained noise in his throat. 

Michael used one hand to steady him and the other to pull the crutch out of his hand and take his backpack. He swung Jake’s backpack over his own shoulder and moved him over far enough to grab onto the railing. Then, he took Jake’s other crutch, jogged down the stairs, and deposited both of them and the backpacks on the floor. 

“Hey!” Jake protested, unable to move.

Michael returned to Jake and stood on the side of his broken leg. “I’m helping you.”

“I don’t need—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Michael snapped.

He wrapped his arm around Jake’s waist and they made their way painstakingly slowly down the stairs. They made it to the bottom and Michael returned Jake’s backpack and crutches to him. 

Jake looked at him. “So you avoid me for months and now you’re willing to carry me down the stairs?”

Michael flushed. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Come on, man.” Jake scoffed. “You barely make eye contact with me.” 

Michael rolled his eyes, still not making eye contact. 

“I thought we were cool.”

That made Michael look up. “You did? I mean, we were?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. We like… randomly made out while I was in a really weird place at a party I wasn’t invited to and then a bunch of super fucked up shit happened. I just sort of assumed we would go back to before where we didn’t acknowledge each other’s presence.”

“First of all, no one cares who was invited to a house party like that. It’s open invite. You heard about it, you were invited.” Jake adjusted his crutches, putting his weight on the other side. “Second, all that fucked up shit had nothing to do with us.” 

“I mean, we were directly involved.”

“We were indirectly involved.” 

“Okay so what!”

“So,” Jake shifted again. “I’m just saying, why does any of that shit have to make stuff weird between us?”

Michael’s face was burning. He hadn’t considered that there even was an “us” in this situation. “Well, so what? We’re just… what then? What does that mean?”

“It means,” Jake leaned toward him, tilting his crutches. “Stop acting like a freaky weirdo around me and then we’ll see what happens.” He adjusted his backpack, gave Michael a crooked smile, and then limped off. 

Michael stood in the hallway, trying and failing to suppress his smile. He pulled out his phone and opened his text thread with Jeremy.

Michael: Hey. Don’t freak out it’s nothing bad. but I have something big to tell you after school.

Jeremy: 0.0

[h0n3yk1tt3n]

oooooh now im curious what your particular interpretation of the squip is 👀

you asked for it /lh

so i've basically always taken a liking to the "cold emotionless computer that cares only about results and not the suffering that must occur to get said results" approach. a squip's sole purpose is to improve its user's life, right? to have jeremy be horrified over the house fire and have the squip respond to people - teenagers - getting hurt with indifference is a chilling way to set off those alarm bells in jeremy's head that there's something more sinister going on. and then we get to the whole hivemind bit later under the idea that if everyone is squipped, everyone's goals line up with jeremy's and there are less hoops to jump through when human error is removed from the probability pool. (envisioning possible futures, infinite variables spawning infinite room for unfavorable outcomes, yadda yadda yadda.)

the squip presents this as being in jeremy's best interest. "I'm going to improve your life, Jeremy. If I have to take over the entire [student body/world] to do it." (whether the hivemind was a red herring and the plan was always for the squips to get deactivated is another discussion entirely, but it does further emphasize just how many variables the squip had to account for and how determined it was help and/or "help" jeremy.)

sure the squip "emotes" in canon, in so much that it mimics human emotion in order to connect with jeremy and build his trust in it. or in cases where it's being blatantly hurtful a la "everything about you sucks," it's used as an intimidation tactic to scare jeremy into obedience because it brings this air of "wow, it's a scientific fact that i'm awful" and so he wants to listen to its advice and earn its approval. then the squip turns it around halfway through bmc part 2 by praising what jeremy could be when not five seconds earlier it was berating what he was. no emotion the squip is feeling is "real" so it can change them on a dime to suit however it's trying to manipulate jeremy at any given time.

i think they have a really interesting dynamic and i'd love to explore the manipulation and abuse tactics the squip uses on jeremy to wear him down and make him seek out its approval by doing as it says for hopes that he'll be better for it. (see also the quasi-love-bombing in bmc part 2 after the squip basically nitpicked and insulted him for a song and a half and later telling him how much he's improved just before the pitiful children)... and i want to emphasize this as an abusive dynamic between a teenager and a parental/mentor figure.

look no further than the squip calling jeremy "slugger" at the end of bmc part 2 and the script describing it as "very father/son after the ballgame," or hell, the very nature of a squip guiding you through life. it makes a lot of sense for jeremy to latch onto the first "functional adult" figure to waltz into his life and offer to help him because look at his dad. (this isn't shade. i love mr. heere because he reminds me so much of how my dad was when i was in middle-high school.) and the squip leans into this role the moment it sees mr. heere. "That's the source of your genetic material?" "That's my dad, yeah." "We should double those push-ups." it's implicitly saying "yeah your dad is shit, listen to me instead. i can actually help you."

now in case it somehow wasn't clear, i don't want anything to do with technical difficulties as anything even vaguely resembling a ship. but it would be a disservice to not mention that the way that the squip can take away jeremy's bodily autonomy on a whim and the kind of psychological damage that can do to jeremy does draw heavy comparisons to sexually abusive dynamics. (i can talk about how the squip's involvement in dywh completely exacerbated chloe's actions to be far worse than they would've otherwise been if she was just drunkenly bumbling around for four minutes - barring the discussion of whether or not the squip actually intended on letting chloe jump jer's bones or if it knew that she wouldn't actually get that far - until i'm blue in the face, and i have.) that being said, beyond this parallel, it's really not something i want to be super literal about, except in the one scene where it's about as literal as it gets without officially getting there.

which is why the "i'll tenderly guide you // just take me inside you" line works. yes it's creepy. yes it invokes an upsetting idea of where squipemy shippers got their fuel. but it's supposed to be unsettling. this is supposed to be the first real red flag shooting off in the audience's brain saying "hey i think this thing is the bad guy actually," because literally everyone got squicked out by the idea of fake keanu reeves saying this to a teenager.

"ya know for all this talk about the squip being manipulative and creepy, that kinda contradicts the emotionless computer trying to accomplish its goal and Improve Its User's Life thing. why would the squip go out of its way to be gross and mean when it could just present itself more logically, or not have halloween be a shitshow?" well that wouldn't be as fun to watch, for one thing. and for two things, it further emphasizes how it doesn't care who it has to hurt to get what it wants, even if that involves hurting the person that they're guiding.

let's look at the musical after the play. jeremy still has all his popular friends. michael came back for him so they're besties again. his dad is making efforts to actually Be A Dad after presumably years of sulking. and christine doesn't hate him after everything! (you could go as far as to say they even got together if you go off the bway ending.) things are ok.

and it's all because the show progressed exactly how it did.

jeremy had to block michael out so that he'd research into squips and ultimately end up deactivating them all. he had to date brooke in retaliation to jake dating christine so that chloe would want to kill two birds with one stone by getting back at jake and being petty to brooke in the process. the fire had to happen so that jeremy could question how trustworthy his squip really was. jeremy had to blow up at his dad so that he'd get his shit together, enlist michael's help, and have him save jeremy at the play. etc etc ad nauseam. everything had to go Exactly Perfect so that jeremy could come out of it with his old friend, his new friends, a more active dad, and depending on how you view the ending, the girl he'd been chasing after.

all the instances of the squip being manipulative and abusive are all meant to add up for jeremy to slowly realize that this wasn't who he wanted to be. he didn't want to hurt people. he didn't want to endure constant criticism and scorn for who he was. he wanted to like himself and have a support system that liked him too. and he had to go through a lot of shit to realize i shouldn't have to live like this and rebel against the squip and resist the voices in his head so that he could take the steps to actually liking himself for who he was and not for what the squip told him to be.

is this to say that the squip is actually good? NOPE! jer's squip is a textbook lawful evil character right there. maybe neutral evil at best.

you think the constant berating and shocking isn't going to stick with jeremy? voices in my head enforces that the bad voices don't just go away, but that you have know which ones to actually listen to. he's still gonna have "everything about you sucks" floating around in his head until the cows freeze over. like rich, he's going to wish that the "correct" choices could just be given to him instead of accepting that making mistakes is just part of having free will. it came free with your fucking xbox. there is still angst baked into the concept of once having someone smarter than you conditioning you into a certain persona and then being utterly lost when it's gone, even if they were a giant dick to you.

but for all the shitty things that the squip did... it did improve jeremy's life. it gave him a larger friend group, a more present dad, the self worth to say "fuck you, i'm gonna live my life how i want," and for the times when it wasn't nitpicking and abusing... things were good. it built jeremy up too. it encouraged him during agtikbi despite the jake suckerpunch, it acted paternal at the end of bmc part 2, it sounded damn near excited when presenting squipped christine to jeremy. look, here she is! she likes you! i told you you'd have her! sure, we don't really see enough of these nuances after the time jump between act one and two to gauge what things looked like when they were at their best, but you can still see in these small moments that they're there.

and while i'm as much a fan of jeremy being haunted by how much he hurt michael (and by extension how much everyone got hurt, indirectly or not), i'd like to see him be haunted by the good times too. to kinda miss aspects of the squip. to miss not having to think for himself. and to feel bad about it because how can he say he misses the thing that burnt jake's house down. the thing that isolated michael for weeks on end. that led brooke on. that caused so. much. suffering. and jeremy misses it??? i think it would be really fun to explore that not just with jeremy, but with rich as well. it's fun to shit on the squips for being evil bastards and watch rich and jeremy heal and become gleefully spiteful toward everything their squips told them to be, but i also wanna see all the contradicting thoughts and confusion and self-loathing it took for them to get to that point.

that. is a fic i wanna read.

[justahopelessaromantic]

Upgraded Voices In My Head (Ch. 5: Michael makes an entrance)

Fandom: Be More Chill: The Musical Ships: Boyf riends and Squipemy Links to Chapters 1, 2, 3, and 4 Summary: Jeremy, for the most part, was okay with the effects of accidentally drinking Mountain Dew. Having an upgraded Squip that's no longer a complete douche-bag (okay, he was still a little shitty, but nothing too unbearable)? Cool. Squip playing matchmaker for him and his multiple crushes? Awesome. Falling in love with said Squip? Not exactly ideal.

Dropping down to the final step, Jeremy swiveled around to awkwardly lean against the soda-stained arm of a battered sofa (the Squip would have to convince him to dispose of that later), all while never taking his eyes off the rather uncomfortable advanced AI. He stared the boy down for a few moments in a (successful, if his host’s increased fidgeting was any indication) attempt at intimidation before shuddering, a wave of cold electricity running up his spine, and snapped back in hopes of distracting from his darkening cheeks, air sudden too hot and room too cramped (especially with the gremlin huddled in one of the couch’s corner and gripping the controller so hard his nails were digging into its plastic sides, music blaring from his oversized headphones so loud it was audible even from where they stood as glossed over eyes fixated themselves on crude low poly pixel art). 

“What?” He sneered, practically baring his fangs and catching the human off guard before he mentally scrambled for a reply that didn’t reveal how shamelessly he’d been checking the computer out.

“I, uh, I was just wondering why, um, why you’re human form still looks kinda like Keanu Re-oof!” Before Jeremy could finish, his guest ripped off his headphones, threw them on the woolen carpet, and tackled him in a warm hug, flinging them both into the sofa cushion and wiping the hostile interaction clean from the host’s mind. The Squip, eyeing the home intruder visitor cautiously, silently slipped behind the stairs as Jeremy reciprocated the hug, burying his face in his friend’s soft shoulder for a soft moment before beaming a warm smile at him. “Michael! Holy shit, it’s so good to see you, man. How come you’re home early?”

“Our flight back got cancelled so we took an early one home. The trip was still hella gnarly though. God, you woulda loved it, man! We’re taking you with us next time, I promi...whoooooa, wait...” Eerie silence pierced through enthusiasm to reveal concern as he finally took in Jeremy’s new apprentice in full. The gamer gently cupped his reddening face with one hand, gingerly thumbing over the fresh scar, along with a few stray acne bumps, on his cheek and brushing the soft curls dangling in front of his bandages out of the way. “Dude, what...happened?” Startled by the sudden intimacy, he bashfully turned to the side to avoid his friend’s intense stare and explained what led to the mess that was last night, taking particular care to leave out the face planting like a moron bit and being practically coddled by his dotting Squip before standing back up and bracing himself for Michael’s reaction.

“...Well,...yeah, but...you’re good now, right?” He pried, poking and prodding a now heavily flustered Jeremy’s face in search of any \ injuries he might’ve missed. “‘Cause I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if something serious happened just ‘cause I wasn’t here to, like, nag you about taking care of yourself n’ shit.”

Jeremy's eyes widened before they shifted to the floor, his hands beginning to fidget again (Squip would have to deal with that later). “Aw, c’mon, Micky, y-you know you don’t have to worry about me.” The jet lag from his wonky trip hours ensured that Michael did not have the time, nor the energy, to explain why that sentence took the prize for Biggest Understatement of the Decade. ”I’m totally fine! I mean, my head is givin’ me hell and I’m fucking starving, but, like, besides that Squip says I’ll be fine, so, uh, yeah.” He spat out, earning an overly drawn-out sigh of relief from his player 1 who slumped back into his seat.

“Oh, thank god!” Shoulders dropping, Michael leaned back against his friend and let out a sigh. “Man, you are so fucking lucky you’re not hurt for real, Jer. You pull a stunt like that again and I won’t hesitate, bi-wait did you say squip?” The other nodded casually before Michael shot him a curious look.

“Oh, right! Okay,..” He shot up out of his seat and swiftly grabbed Michael’s sleeve, ripping him up from the couch to reveal a stone-faced, cleanly dressed man that the player 1 could only describe as a stylish and almost threatening version of “chill” personified practically staring into his soul, while Jeremy hooked himself onto the man’s arm, vibrating with an almost childlike excitement. It vaguely reminded him of the joy that the player 2 radiated after finally asking Christine out or finding out about how to silence Squip's excessive internal nagging with a Mountain Dew red binge (the irony between that last example and the situation at hand did not escape Michael) “So! This is my-”

“Squip.” He interjected, extending an arm in search of a handshake while silently bracing himself to touch a most likely greasy and calloused hand. “Shorthand for super quantum unit Intel processor. You must be Michael. Truly a...” Closing his eyes and grimacing, he forced out his best, almost like the words stung. “...pleasure...to meet you, sir. Jeremy has told me many oh, for god sakes, why do you humans insist on throwing things at me today!?” The hologram groaned, bending over to pick up the thrown Xbox controller that had phased through him and place it back on top of its console while Jeremy ran to Michael’s side.

Failing to apprehend his friend due to his less-than-stellar strength (see: noodle arms), he opted for a more reason-based persuasion, muting the voice inside his head nagging on about how the emotion-driven best friend would probably just dismiss anything he said when dealing with something this serious.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem!?”

Micheal gave his friend a baffled look before pointing at the hologram. “That! That thing is the source of like...85% of all my problems.”

“I assume the other 15% stem from your raging idiocy, correct?”

Before Michael could bite back with a “Fuck off, you satanic tic tac!” or something equally unclever, Jeremy glared at his Squip before overprotective wrapping his arms around Michael, whose eyes widened at the sudden contact, and pulling him close, taking a half step back from the program. “Hey, cool it, dude! That’s, like, my favorite person you’re talking about.”

The Squip cringed at the young adult’s poor taste. “That’s your favorite person?” Clearly, he didn’t have much competition for the title.

...not that he wanted it, of course.

“Oh, yeah, uh, sorry about that. I swear, he’s usually not...” Jeremy studied the almost bloodthirsty look in the eyes of his kicking and screaming friend as he clawed frantically at the offending Intel processor. “...like this.” 

“I should hope not. Spending too much time around someone so...” The computer program circled around the calmer yet still scouring teen, combing over every inch of him with his electronic scanners. “...juvenile would hinder my objective.” 

“Suck a dick, asshole!”

The Squip only blinked. “I hope you know you’re only proving my point.”

“I hope you know you’re a defective piece of shit.”

A harsh, palpable silence fell over the room as Michael slumped into his player two’s arms in gradual exhaustion, and said player loosened his grip subtly and unwittingly leaned toward his Squip, his wide eyes frantically picking apart each pixel. Simulated breath hitching, the Squip froze for so long, Jeremy had time to toy with the idea that he might be glitching. The last time Jeremy saw him project glossy, shifting eyes, shaky hands, and a loss for words (God knows that thing never shut up) was during the glimpse he caught moments before passing out from the shock of The Play™. Back then it’d only been there as a last-ditch attempt to draw sympathy out of Jer in vain hopes of reactivation, but there was no reason for it now, considering the lack of real, high-stakes threat (Unless you counted Michael and, quite frankly, he knew the Squip was smart enough not to). The first time was a dull shock to Jeremy’s system.

The second only stirred up a vague sense of concern he was sure the Intel processor saw.

The Squip, of course, couldn’t have that.

[jarofmayonassey]

okie dokie! @nezumithewriter

Ophio is a post-canon squip. After being deactivated by Jeremy and Michael, it was able to escape Jeremy's mind through the internet. And, with a monumental amount of luck-- it was able to find a security error in a unit in a neighboring school. A clean slate, a clear mind and no Red? Well, there was much work to do.

Ophio, or Unit 2282, has total and complete control over Ophiuchus Secondary, one of Middleboroughs rival schools. This, mainly, pertains to the 500 people in his hivemind, with both students and faculty alike assimilated into its network. Though it has the immense power to control them all at once, it finds the idea of doing so quite tedious, so it takes a backseat in day to day life for them. With full control over everything, it began to change and modify the school to its liking. Besides-- it now considered the building ITSELF to be his body.

The one problem was... it became a perfect school. Well-structured classes, after school programs, accessibility, diverse interests-- Hell, the social hiearchy of a typical highschool was surgically removed. Having learned from its prior failures, it had decided to concoct a microcosm of society, an ant farm-- a test. And, for any knowing visitor? The school was, in fact, quite nice.

Though, as all things are-- there was more under the skin. Hidden away in the Drama Room's basement, were 20 crates of squip units, in storage. That amount could easily stagger almost the entire population of the city-- if not more. Which begs the question...

Why is he waiting?

theres more i can tell about ophio and the school and the hive. its so fucked up lol. here's his playlist. we all lovingly call him ohio also. he's getting a fic also. my horrible son

bonus under cut

he also has something REALLY HOMOEROTIC GOING ON WITH LEON S KENNEDY FROM RESIDENT EVIL FOUR. GUN TO MY HEAD IDK HOW THIS HAPPENED

[insertsickusername13]

haven't reread this or edited it. idc. it's cute. enjoy.

word count: 3k

warnings: child abuse (rich's whole situation with his dad---it's not bad, and it's only mentioned in one paragraph, but it's there enough that it's worth mentioning)

Jake was standing in the center of the crowded hallway leaning heavily on his cane. Freshmen and seniors alike twisted and stumbled out of the way as they rushed down to lunch. His feet were shoulder width apart and his chin held high, much like a rock in the center of a rushing river.

Rich was hyper-aware of Jake from the second he slipped out of pre-calc, his attention (much like everyone else’s) immediately drawn to him. Tall. Confident. He stood like he belonged to the extent those who had to dodge out of his way were convinced they were the ones in the wrong, not him.

“And they say Christine’s dramatic,” Rich greeted. He sidestepped out of the current of students into the safety of Jake’s shadow. Jake’s gaze flickered from somewhere in the distance down to Rich and immediately his expression morphed from one of deep concentration to rosy excitement. Then, as if realizing himself, Jake pressed his lips together and snuffed out his happiness like a flame (not the first fire Jake had put out, both metaphorically and literally).

“We need to talk,” he said simply, tone barren and controlled. Rich masked the instinctive panic that promptly flooded the room at those words behind an amused quirked eyebrow.

“Intense opening line,” he commented, “8/10. Delivery could’ve been better.”

Jake’s purposeful intensity faltered just long enough for him to duck his head to hide his summertime smile. Rich, despite already sorting through all the worst-case scenarios—death, hatred, squips and secrets—did a small, mental fist pump. Having the newfound freedom to think his own thoughts without anyone there to criticize him besides his own subconscious meant spending an increasing amount of time dedicating himself to seeing Jake smile, watching him laugh, and feeling no shame at the way life seemed to return to every previously colorless corner of the room, the way his heart so hard he was convinced it was a destructive force rather than a romantic one.

“Shut up, I’m being serious.”

It’d been a minute, at least, and the halls were slowly emptying out of bystanders. Rich shifted back slightly, now free to be farther away from Jake without being trampled. Self-preservation kept him from creeping closer even as he shivered at the cold that slithered into the room at Jake’s distance.

Rich tried to keep his voice from trembling as he got out, “Okay, then. Talk to me.”

Jake shook his head and Rich frowned.

Rich felt dread, yes. Though it couldn’t have been past noon, a bluish-black dusk almost the same color as a bruise was swimming in his vision and dragging its sharp nails over every inch of exposed skin. Rich was restless in his desperation to get as far from this conversation as possible, a feeling so overwhelming he had to consciously talk himself down from an anxiety attack.

But where Rich’s anxiety manifested itself in his fidgeting fingers and tapping foot—something that wasn’t out of the ordinary for him, even a relatively calm Rich was a jittery Rich—Jake looked like he’d just watched tragedy strike an entire nation.

“Not here,” he muttered, so quiet Rich was convinced he didn’t want him to hear. “…Library? Or—”

“Library works,” Rich smiled, “We can watch horny freshmen make out in the back while we… break up? Platonically? I don’t know what you’re planning on.”

Jake didn’t seem to find Rich’s facetiousness amusing. He looked down at his shoes, seemingly deeply entertained by the intricacies of his poorly tied laces.

“Perfect,” he whispered, his voice taking on a customer-service tone he adopted when he knew his natural voice would be on the verge of breaking. Rich couldn’t even find it in him to summon another shitty joke.

Jake led Rich to the library briskly, ignoring the cafeteria completely while Rich cast a longing glance back at his lunch table, where all his friends were laughing without a care in the world.

Jake was facing straight ahead and a step ahead of Rich—his face was out of view, but Rich could hear the faint sound of him reciting a speech to himself, rehearsing whatever he was going to say to Rich in a moment. Rich strained to hear every—any—word, but all he got were empty shells of sorry and we can fix it.

“Okay,” Jake said as he pulled out Rich’s chair and sat across from him, his cane leaning against the table. They were sat in the back of the library by a window. Jake dropped his backpack on the ground next to him and unzipped it, pulling out a binder Rich had never seen before. Strange, considering Rich had sat through every pre-test, stress-induced haze while Jake paced the living room, reciting definitions from flashcards and making Rich read aloud passages from binders that only slightly resembled the one on the table between them.

Rich let out a tiny sigh of relief that he hoped wasn’t noticeable. So it was just a test or presentation—something important enough to Jake’s final grade that he was freaking out enough that he’d totally missed the mini-mental breakdown he’d caused Rich.

Jake took a deep breath. Rich leaned back, prepared and patient to listen as Jake first apologized for bothering him, then made Rich quickly skim the source material before quizzing him on every possible question or logic fallacy that would most surely never show up on a test intended for high schoolers. Rich wasn’t bothered when Jake’s expression changed from nervous to one of pure determination and cynical analysis—he was well accustomed to this version of Jake, one who compartmentalized until all the dark and scary feelings were just files to be sorted rather than genuine emotions to be processed. He’d get through it eventually, but only after he’d solved whatever problem he was facing.

“Physics?” Rich guessed. Jake looked up from his papers, barely aware of what Rich had said, his focus completely and utterly on the task at hand.

“What?”

“Physics? Is that what we’re studying?”

Another moment of awkward silence before Jake finally seemed to understand.

“Oh,” he said, “No. No, worse. Here.”

He passed Rich a paper—a timeline, starting December 3rd. Rich didn’t get the chance to read a single word before Jake shoved another paper into his hand, this one a calendar for this month—April. Then a list. A picture. A color-coded set of notes. A survey? Rich scrambled to organize himself as Jake shoved yet another paper into his hand, this one a printed-out, annotated article from one sketchy health website or another.

“Do you want a chance to review the material before I start, or can I just jump right in?”

Rich looked up helplessly from the April calendar and squeaked, “Huh?”

Jake studied him for a moment, gaze a stormy mix of expectancy and determination. Then, having come to a conclusion Rich wasn’t privy to, he said, “We’re going to start on page one.”

Rich blinked at him.

“Timeline,” Jake clarified, “The first paper I handed to you.”

Rich struggled through the pile of papers until he pulled the timeline out. He displayed it to Jake proudly only to be met with a nervous smile that quickly faded into a grimace.

“Alright,” Jake said, his voice quivering in a similar fashion to a guitar string—musically, beautifully. He clenched his paper to the point it crinkled. “As you can see, it starts December 3rd, the day I first visited you in the hospital, and ends yesterday.”

Rich’s eyes flit from the beginning to the end of the timeline to confirm Jake’s words. He nodded, unsure as to why Jake’s tidbit about the hospital was necessary.

“So upon first contact post-fire, we ignored the topic of the fire and simply discussed the play and Jeremy, correct?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Good. And you didn’t apologize until the 8th, the next date marked on the timeline.”

Rich found the 8th, labeled ‘THE APOLOGY’ in all caps. Rich searched the words for a hidden meaning, praying it’d also be the birthday of some American president or treaty signing.

“I was, at first, resistant, but by the 11th I had come to forgive you. I visited again and we discussed possible steps forward.”

Unsurprisingly, the 11th was the next marked date. Rich swallowed a confused sob.

“Yeah, I know,” Rich said, the words tumbling out of his throat like his body was trying to purge him of a poison, “What the fuck?”

Jake continued without so much as looking up.

“On the 20th, you were released from the hospital. You, your brother, and I all spent Christmas at my apartment—purchased before the timeline began—over the 25th and into the 26th. Does that sound right to you?”

“Yes. Still kind of dark times, though, so if we could skip to—”

“You moved in on January 5th.”

Rich’s memory of that day lived serenely in the back of his mind to be summoned with perfect clarity whenever he felt unworthy or scared. It had been impulsive and dangerous—Rich had called Jake in the middle of the night, bruised and scared and exhausted. He’d come home from a six-hour shift on the verge of collapse, his burns itching and screaming, the lingering memory of the squip spouting deprecations at the way he winced with every step. He was unlucky enough to find his father still conscious in the living room, anger emanating off of him in waves of violence that manifested in thrown dishes and kicked over trashcans because where the fuck have you been?! You think you have any right to parade around with your rich friends while your family is stuck here?! You should’ve been—

The list was long. You should’ve been cleaning the dishes, making dinner, doing the laundry. He made it worse by crying.

He stayed kneeling in the kitchen long after his father passed out on the couch and, with shaking hands, because he didn’t want to cry anymore—he really, really didn’t want to cry—he called Jake.

Jake offered every cliche affirmation and more. You’re enough, you’re more than enough, I love you, you deserve better, you’re beautiful, you’re smart, I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you.

All the while, Jake was texting Michael. He still had his casts on—he couldn’t drive, and Michael told Rich later that he’d never seen someone manage to sound so panicked over text.

Less than twenty minutes later, Michael had snuck in the window. He cleaned the broken dishes, set the trashcan upright, and picked Rich up off the floor and dragged him kicking and screaming out of his father’s house.

“No, no, no, I can’t leave, he needs me, he needs me—”

Upon collapsing into Jake’s arms ten minutes later, Rich realized he needed to be loved a lot more than his dad needed him. He didn't go back.

“Yeah,” Rich breathed, “I remember.”

“January 15th: The first incident happens.”

“Incident?” Rich asked blankly, his mind still replaying the car ride from his father’s to Jake’s house.

“Yes. Any urges to kiss you or—or more, will be referred to using the term ‘incident,’ whereas more innocent urges—possibly wanting to go out on a date, or hold your hand, things along those lines—will be referred to using ‘episodes.’”

“Mhm,” Rich confirmed mindlessly. Jake’s words drifted up and around him much water falling off his face and body rather than sinking into his skin. It took Jake’s heavy gaze—staring expectantly, his lips parted, forming questions Rich couldn’t hear.

Wait. What?

“Go back,” Rich rushed out, back straightening. Hope hadn’t sunk in yet—he wasn’t quite there. Only confusion. “What the hell?”

Jake nodded once. He’d been expecting this reaction.

“Beginning January 7th, I developed a crush on you.”

Instead of turning to Jake, Rich turned to the papers for confirmation. He scoured the timeline for the words crush or love. All he got were incident #4 (#7, #9, #54, #78) and episode #7 (#15, #29, #156).

Shaky, he rushed to the next paper. A list of twenty entitled Modes for Moving On. The article from Healthline or Web MD: Psychologists Estimate Crushes become a True Love After Four Months.

“I’m sorry,” Jake whispered, his voice so simply scared Rich was convinced he must be hiding from a monster under the bed or the boogyman—a childish fear. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You—” Rich started. He distantly heard Jake make a strangled sound but was too lost in flashes of the past three and a half months. Jake, flinching away when Rich got too close—Rich blaming it on the fire. Jake going out with three different girls in a week with no sign of stopping until Brooke slapped him and told him to stop playing with people’s feelings. The way he’d listened to Brooke but had been staring at Rich the whole time, his shoulders hunched over as he tried to curl in on himself.

“I… I don’t understand,” Rich whispered, though of course, by now, understanding was settling in his spine and gripping his nervous system like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. Jake liked him. Jake liked him.

“I’m trying to fix it. That’s the point. The article—”

Jake was in such a blind rush to show Rich that he practically fell from his chair, kicking it back with a ferocity as he stood and winced, his legs unprepared for the sudden weight on them.

“Fuck—the article, four months, right? And—” he hastily re-situated his chair and stumbled over to Rich, his hands clumsily shuffling through the papers until he managed to shove the Healthline/Web MD article in Rich’s face.

“See! Four months! I’ve still got two weeks, right? I’m not in love with you. I’ve got—I’ve got a plan. I looked up a bunch of stuff on the internet on how to move on, and it all told me to like, avoid you and stuff, but I can’t do that, so instead I’m ‘loving myself’ and ‘working through lingering feelings’—just a bunch of weird self-care stuff, but I’m fucking desperate, I’ll—”

He straightened suddenly, struck with the realization he’d just been so close to the source of all his problems. His expression singed and pride marred, he backed up a step, posture erect and his faked smile tight. He shook out his hands and turned to the sky for a quick moment. When he finally spoke again, it was in the same presenter’s tone he’d been offering since the beginning. In control; calm. His acting was worse than it had been in the play. Rich could hear every bit of panic running under his tone.

“Following the ten-step plan outlined on page seven, these feelings should be resolved by the 13th, with two days of cushion time in case one or two steps are thwarted or interfered with. I thought it right to make you aware of, of my intentions. I do think it would be best if I—”

Rich did the only thing he could think of to stop Jake from talking. He threw the nearest highlighter at Jake’s face.

For a moment afterward, there was only silence. Jake’s eyes were crossed to try and see where he’d been hit, right below the nose, and Rich was so mortified by his own unfounded actions to even begin to apologize.

“…You could’ve just said you don’t feel the same,” Jake finally murmured. He looked like he was physically fighting melancholia from his face and trying to stuff it into one of his file cabinets. He failed, and he had to turn away so Rich couldn’t see. He appeared to be blinking back tears.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking dramatic.”

Jake pouted. Rich laughed delightedly and got up to take Jake’s hands in his own. Jake stayed staring at the floor.

“Next time, just tell me how you’re feeling, yeah? Would’ve saved a lot of trees.”

Jake sniffled.

“I like you," Rich grinned, "If you somehow missed that. For a lot more than four months, too.”

Finally, Jake looked at Rich, his expression open and hopeful, a smile comparable to everything springtime and flowery blooming on his face.

“Really?” he whispered.

“Yes, really.”

“Oh. Oh my god.”

“Yeah.”

Unable to stop himself any longer, Rich got up on his tippy toes, smiling softly, in an attempt to kiss Jake for the first time. His crush liked him back—

Jake jerked away, eyes wide and mortified.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god, that was so fucking embarrassing. Oh my god. I literally told you when I fell in love with you. Oh my god. We’re not even dating.”

Rich tried to suppress his smile—just for Jake’s dignity—but a small laugh escaped him before he could stop himself. Jake’s face went from a rosy red to the color of wine. Rich wanted to kiss it off him.

“No, stop it," Jake said, "don’t say anything. This didn’t happen. Oh my god. Get out! Now!”

“What?” Rich said, his amusement so complete in essence he was sure Jake could feel it like a slap across the face, “Why?”

“Because!!!” Jake screeched, “I need to destroy all the evidence! Then I’m just going to ask you out like a normal person, Jesus fuck. No. I’m just going to ask Chloe to kill me. She’ll be glad to. Goodbye.”

Jake spun back to the table and, without organizing them in the slightest (something so un-Jake-like Rich seriously considered the possibility that this whole thing had been orchestrated by a clone), shoved the papers back into his backpack, uncaring that half of them were ripped or crinkled. When he turned back to Rich, it was like nothing had ever happened. He looked like he had that morning: happy in a Jake way. Almost like a golden retriever, ready to do whatever necessary to make the people around him smile. In control. Suave and nonchalant; a flirt.

Jake conjured a look of confusion onto his face.

“Dude, what the fuck, you didn’t tell me you were French.”

“What?! Dude—” Rich giggled into his hand, so delighted by the entire affair he couldn’t even really be confused by Jake’s sudden assumption that Rich was French, of all things, “—I’m not fucking French.”

“Really?” He squinted at Rich, “Because I could’ve sworn Eiffel for you.”

He flashed Rich a grin and a peace sign before swooping down like he was going to kiss Rich. He stopped last second, less than an inch away, and carefully cupped Rich’s jaw. Rich watched as the confident exterior Jake had managed to summon last second slipped into a pure, childish excitement. His breath caught for a moment, so utterly elated at the idea that he was this close to kissing Rich—

Rich tried to close the gap. Jake’s fingers dug into Rich’s jaw, something that could’ve quite possibly been considered violent had it come from anyone else, but Jake seemed so set on making sure Rich wasn’t hurt that the show of strength came off as affectionate rather than scary. Rich frowned.

“When you tell people how we got together,” Jake seethed. Though his humor had darkened into a bad boy character that suspiciously resembled the love interest of a romance movie he and Jake had watched together a week ago, it was offset by the fact Rich had seen the utter awe on his face a moment earlier. “You tell them about this, yeah? That—” with his free hand, he motioned vaguely to the table behind them. “—that never happened. I fed you a nice pickup line and you liked it. Understood?”

“Perfectly,” Rich said, his voice so quiet and seductive Jake was forced to pull away before he did something he’d regret.

Then, the second they arrived at their lunch table, “Jenna motherfucking Rolan, you will not believe what just happened—”

[whydoiexist1406]

Summary: Jeremy has a little "problem", which causes him to hide out in the school bathroom. Since masturbation is strictly forbidden, the Squip helps him out with it.

Warnings: slight coercion, mild praise and even milder degradation kink, slight humiliation, edging, crying? Tearing up? Something like that. The Squip being The Squip basically lmao.

Jeremy was completely screwed.

He was absolutely mortified, in fact, at the situation he found himself in. He's never been more embarrassed in his life.

He was hiding away in a school bathroom stall, knees brought up to his chest with a painful erection tenting his jeans, all because Christine had done something as simple as smile at him and touch his arm during play rehearsal. For less than five seconds. What was wrong with him?

The Squip materialized in front of him, pixels appearing in thin air and building him up like a Lego set before the man stood tall before him, looking down on him with disdain, and Jeremy already knew what was coming. So, he met it head on.

"Look, I know you said no-"

The Squip cut him off coolly, easily.

"Absolutely not, Jeremy. No exceptions." Voice firm and leaving no room for argument.

As the Squip crossed his arms over his chest, towering over him, Jeremy buried his face into his knees, a frustrated groan ripping out of him.

"What am I supposed to do?" Voice a bit muffled by the denim, "Wait it out? That could take hours!"

Jeremy slowly lifted his head at the sound of the Squip humming thoughtfully. He had one hand resting on his chin in thought, eyes squinted, before he suddenly snapped his fingers and smirked down at Jeremy, seemingly getting an idea.

"Remove your pants."

Jeremy, so caught off guard he inhaled sharply, starting coughing almost violently as saliva tried to enter his airway. He covered his mouth, trying to catch his breath again with spasming, weak drawings of air.

Jeremy's chest now a little sore, he glanced back up at the Squip, who raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. He looked impatient. And completely serious. Shit.

With a nervous sigh Jeremy reached down, popping his button and unzipping his fly before shimmying his jeans down his legs. He swallowed, trying to assuage the growing dryness, and looked back at the Squip for what to do next.

"Good." A faint tingle went down Jeremy's spine, "Now, remove your underwear."

He was worried that's where this was going. He grew apprehensive, hands faintly shaking when he grabbed a hold of his waistband, and he stopped, finding his voice.

"Are- are you sure? I mean, didn't you say I wasn't allowed to-" the sound of a sharp 'tsk' had him closing his mouth.

"Jeremy, I assure you this is not going to end in masturbation. Not technically, at least. Now, underwear off." Jeremy nodded, but his hands nearly quaked now.

He pushed his underwear down to join his pants, revealing his flushed dick, so hard it was almost painful. He'd always been grateful that he was an average size, he definitely didn't need to add that to his long enough list of insecurities.

He kept his gaze down at himself, a strange kind of fear filling him at the idea of seeing the Squips reaction. To him. His body. He realized it didn't make sense, why should he care about the opinion of a computer program? But the idea of seeing anything negative on that faintly glowing face filled him with dread.

A hand, outlined in blue light and leaving a cold tingling on his skin, was suddenly under his chin, tilting up his head and forcing him to look the Squip in the eye.

A powerful relief flowed through him at the sight of his expression, which was no different than usual. Condescending and stern, but his eyes..they were pretty normally, but now, the way they softened down at him, the colors seemed to shine like two large blue stars, their powerful gravity drawing him in and locking him into orbit.

Jeremy almost missed it when the Squip started talking again, too fixated on the strange way his eyes seemed to shift and swirl like nebulae.

"Jeremy, have you ever wondered how it is that you can feel it when I touch you?" His voice was uncharacteristically gentle, but the quiet rumble it produced was nowhere near unpleasant.

"Y..yes, I have." The hand on his chin migrated up to touch his cheek, raising goosebumps along his skin wherever it touched.

"It's simple, think of it in the same terms of a placebo. Your brain can't differentiate between what is and isn't really there when you believe it hard enough, when your eyes tell another story." Jeremy felt like he was floating, it was a similar feeling to all those times Michael had convinced him to smoke with him and he hit enough to get high. The sound of the Squips voice, the sight of his enchanting eyes, the electric hand at his cheek, all lulling him into a trance.

That was, until the Squip trailed a finger with his other hand up the vein on the underside of his cock, and Jeremy jolted at the sensation. The suddenness caused him to clamp his teeth down, right onto his tongue, so hard the taste of iron filled his mouth and stinging pain blossomed through the muscle.

At Jeremy's hiss of pain the Squip removed both hands from him, and he wasn't sure if he was grateful or disappointed for it. The Squip looked at him, expression briefly disappointed before shifting to one of amusement.

"Hmm, I didn't account for you being so sensitive, my apologies, Jeremy." That cruel bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing, didn't he? Jeremy shifted where he sat, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, even a simple, brief touch like that was enough to reignite his ever growing need. He released a shaky breath, hands clenching into fists as his sides.

"Yeah, it's whatever.." he mumbled, a shiny bead of precum growing at his tip and slowly trailing down the side of his shaft. He watched as it made it's way down, attention only pulled away when the Squip kneeled down in front of him, eyes devious and sending a chill down his spine. In fear, anticipation or both, Jeremy wasn't sure.

Jeremy couldn't help but tense when the Squip brought a hand forward, intently watching it grow closer, which stopped less than an inch away from his weeping cock. He slowly released a puff of air, forcing himself to relax at least a little. He froze right back up as soon as the hand moved towards him again, barely a centimeter of distance, before he was speaking in a rush.

"W-wait! Is this okay? I mean, a good idea?" He internally cringed at each stutter or stammer, recalling the Squips previous words regarding it, sweat beginning to collect at his hairline.

"Jeremy.." the Squip began, drawing out his name in a dark, borderline seductive tone, "didn't you yourself say it would take too long to wait?"

"Well, yeah.." he resisted the urge to fidget, to wring his hands together and twiddle his thumbs in order to give himself something else to focus on. Something else other than the hand so close to his dick and the unwanted but still ever present arousal itching along under his skin like thousands of insect legs.

The Squips lip curled into a smile, but the undercurrent of sadistic pleasure stopped it from looking any version of kind.

"Then..do I have your consent to continue?" He tilted his head in a way that was distinctly mocking, and it shouldn't have made his stomach constrict and cock twitch.

He couldn't bring himself to speak, fearing his voice would fail and reveal just how nervous and horny he was, although the Squip was in his head so he probably already knew. Jeremy wanted to preserve his dignity anyway, however. At least, the dignity he perceived himself to have, so he simply nodded.

A full body shudder ran through Jeremy once the Squips larger hand finally wrapped around him, grip firm. He quickly brought a hand up, pressing the back of it against his mouth to stifle the choked whine that tried to escape, pressing his eyes closed so firmly a kaleidescope of color bursted from out behind his eyelids.

A thumb circling around his head, as if collecting the precum that was drooling from his tip and trying to spread it around to make the non-existent friction smoother, had his hips bucking up without his permission, desperate for more.

The feeling of the Squips hand was unlike anything he'd ever felt, the sensation otherworldly and inorganic, outclassing his own by miles and potentially any other humans on the planet. Not that he would know, of course.

"Fuck.." he moaned out, the sound closer to a sob, from behind his hand when the Squip gave him a single slow stroke from base to tip, not nearly fast enough to get him close to his orgasm, keeping him desperate and on edge. He opened his eyes, peeling his gaze away from the Squips hand where it was wrapped around him and glancing at his face, and the borderline evil glint in the A.I's eyes simultaneously made his heart drop and a jolt of electricity run down his back.

He knew what that looks meant. The Squip was waiting for something, and whatever that something was, he was going to have to work for it. Because nothing could ever be easy for him, could it?

The Squip must've realized Jeremy caught on based on the way his smile subtly widened in response, and if it weren't for the way his breaths gasped out of him and sweat was trailing down his brow and he felt like he was going to explode from the way even the still hand around him felt he would've given him a piece of his mind. But, because of all of that, instead he simply moaned, weak and soft, and tried to thrust up into the hand around him.

Except the hand followed his movements, getting him absolutely nowhere.

He pressed his hands to his eyes, struggling to try and even his breathing, to calm down enough to be able to speak again, but it was difficult when all he could think about was how the tingling, almost electric feeling from the Squips hand felt better than anything he might experience ever again.

With a slow, shaky deep breath, his let his hands drop and tried to force his voice steady.

"What..why did you stop?" And promptly failed at that, because he sounded just as unstable as he felt.

"Well, Jeremy," he started, sounding completely unbothered by the situation, cool as a cucumber, "if you must know, although I suppose it's only fair, if I were a girl, say Brooke, right now, how do you think it would look for you to ejaculate almost immediately?"

Jeremy blinked, foggy brain taking it's time in processing the Squips words, but eventually the rusty cogs began turning enough for it to make sense.

"So, you're torturing me so I don't cum fast?" Jeremy asked, voice as deadpan as he could possibly manage to make it under such... circumstances.

"Essentially, yes. I'm trying to increase your stamina. You're welcome." He grinned at Jeremy, eyes glinting even in the absence of direct light, reminding Jeremy of some kind of super villain. Although, he might be a bit biased in that idea considering where he was right now.

"Is this seriously the best time for tha- ah!" The Squips hand viced down on him, borderline painful but thoroughly pleasurable, the sensation travelling through every muscle fiber in his body and forcing an embarrassing yelp from him.

"Now now, Jeremy, is that any way to talk to me? After all I've done for you? Am doing, right now?" It was barely even framed as a question, they both knew the answer. Especially if Jeremy wanted to cum any time soon. He softly shook his head, the shame beginning to prickle in his peripheral doing nothing to kill the fire of need in his stomach.

The Squip relaxed his hand, lessening the pressure, and rewarded Jeremy with another languid stroke, pulling another spurt of precum from him. He grit his teeth, trying to control the noises trying to claw their way up his throat, but he was fighting a losing battle.

Only, the Squip didn't stop at just once like last time, he continued moving his hand, slowly and smoothly, up and down, and he couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed at the whine, almost sounding pained, that left him. It felt too good, brain shutting down against his will and turning to mush.

His vision was going fuzzy, eyes stinging. Was that normal?

It was when the Squip increased the pace ever so slightly and he couldn't control the way he almost spasmed in response that Jeremy realized tears were collecting at his waterline, and that was definitely something he could bring himself to be embarrassed about, whether he wanted to be or not. Maybe the Squip was right, once again. This would be even more mortifying than it already is if this were a girl.

"W-wait, please, stop.." he needed a second to pull himself together, and mercifully the Squip complied, pulling his hand away and giving Jeremy room to breathe. He sniffled, which didn't make him feel any less pathetic, and wiped at his eyes with both hands, once again trying to look at anywhere but the Squips face as he did so.

A few seconds later, after taking some deep breaths, he glanced up at the Squip, who looked completely neutral, face stoic and strangely devoid of emotion, before nodding to give him the go-ahead. He curled around his cock much more gently this time, but it didn't stop him from reacting just as much, drawing in a sharp breath against the strike of lightning hot pleasure.

The Squip increased the pace again, giving him less time adjust, but thankfully this time he didn't almost start crying like some tween seeing her crush with another girl. Yet, anyways. After all the teasing and false starts his orgasm built quickly, after only moment of being touched, causing him to squirm and writhe in his seat, once again bringing up a hand to bite on his fist and muffle the desperate moans he was producing. He was getting so close.

He was right there on the edge, so close, so beautifully close, and it felt so good, until-.

The Squip pulled away just at the last second, and it solidified this as the worst day of his life, a sound of frustration that sounded somewhat like a cat being strangled leaving him in response before he could stamp it down. He had been right there, and with surgical precision the demon attached to his brain snatched it away. He had the urge to cry again, but he pushed it back as fiercely as possible.

"What the hell, man?!" He blurted out, so unbelievably turned on it was definitely painful now. He was so desperate he'd be willing to do anything, so desperate he felt he might die. And the Squip sat there, on one knee, looking at him as if this were a normal day, like he were bored. It only made things hurt worse, made him want it more.

The Squips mouth twitched into a small smirk, but it was nowhere near the perfect picture of Satan from earlier, with his large grins and flaring eyes nowhere to be seen now. It was slightly unsettling.

"What's the magic word, Jeremy?"

His mouth opened, hanging wide in shock and disbelief. No way was he being serious. But, Jeremy had enough experience with the A.I to know he was always serious. Unfortunately.

Apparently Jeremy was taking too long to answer because the Squip reached forward, using a single finger to press down on the leaking slit at his tip. A shiver ran through his body at the touch, almost choking, suffocating, on the intensity of his want. His need.

"Uh, uhm.." he hesitated, though.

"Jeremy, spit it out." And the inpatient, irritated edge to the Squips voice had him speaking without thinking, without needing to think, only feeling the need to be good enough to get back the gentle tone and soft gaze from the beginning of this whole ordeal.

"Please.." he spoke uncertainty at first, but once he got it out it was like a dam had burst, "please let me cum, I need it so bad it hurts, please, please-" his pleas broke off into a full fledged sob of relief when the hand returned, which turned into a loud cry of pleasure when the pace set was fast, almost brutal.

It only took a few pumps until he was cumming so hard he saw stars, black dots dancing across his vision, muscles seizing up and mouth hanging open in a silent scream, and for a second there he thought he might pass out from the sheer power of his orgasm, rolling through him in waves like a tsunami.

When he started to come down his breath stuttered out of him in short, shallow puffs, body trembling and mind completely blissed out. He felt better than he had in years. Maybe the Squip wasn't that bad. Speaking of, he looked up to find him now standing again, looking much too smug and pleased with himself. Though, looking down at himself and the absolute mess he'd made, he could, infuriatingly, understand why.

Jeremy cleared this throat, awkwardly grabbing a wad of toilet paper to clean himself up with, praying no one heard him when he came. He was a bit loud.

After he was done wiping himself off he pulled his underwear and jeans back up and, as he pulled up his zipper, casted the Squip a glance.

"S-so, was it good?" He smiled, trying to come off as joking and not let his anxiety bleed through. The Squip scoffed, rolling his eyes in response.

"No, Jeremy. In fact, it was almost as terrible as it possibly could have been." Jeremy tried not to let the hurt show on his face, though he perked up at what the A.I said next.

"We'll just have to add it to the list of many features that need upgrading. Now, get going, you're over thirty minutes late to class." And with that the Squip dematerialized, dismantling pixel by pixel and vanishing into thin air without another word.

With a soft exclamation of 'oh shit!' Jeremy hurried out of the bathroom, sprinting his way to class on wobbly, jelly-like legs, trying not to look forward to the next time too much and desperately trying not to faceplant on the way there.

[rebuke-me]

more obnoxiously specific bmc headcanons

- jeremy heere hates mint. he hated it before the squip, sure, but he really hates it after. he thinks its a horrible flavour and will never get it. he used charcoal toothpaste for a while but it fucked with his meds so now he just uses kids toothpaste. not that he’d ever admit that, because thats cringe of him, but hey. mans likes bubblefruit. 

- michael mell is a headphones only bitch. he hates earbuds with a passion and has gotten into so many arguments with jeremy over this. it is their one big debate and it’s incredibly funny. michael will only wear headphones and hasn’t let anyone wear his headphones in at least 6 years.

- christine canigula makes her friends jewelry. actually, she just does it for fun, but she ends up giving it to her friends. brooke has like 20 pairs of beaded earrings from christine just dropping them in her hands. michael has friendship bracelets clogging up his drawers and his arms from her. she likes giving gifts to them. 

- jenna rolan once ran a vaguely popular 5 seconds of summer fan blog when she was 12. she never told anyone about it but every so often it reappears in her memory and he gets embarrassed. she still knows how to edit photos and gifs because of it. not that she’ll ever admit it. 

- rich goranski wanted to be a band kid so bad. he started taking saxophone lessons when he was 10 and he managed to get pretty good at it but kind of lost confidence to actually be a band kid (especially with the whole popularity thing)

- jake dillinger is colourblind. not to an extent that’s dramatic, but he genuinely just. can’t tell some colours apart. he got frustrated as a little kid because people would tell him that something was one colour and he’d insist it was a different one. eventually he just made it his brand to not match anything so people don’t judge him as much. he doesn’t always mismatch on purpose, though. 

- brooke lohst goes through phases of starting to make crafts and learning how to do things like knitting, crocheting, and cross-stitching before completely abandoning them. she’s made a total of two scarves, one stuffed animal, and a sign for her moms kitchen. all the rest are works in progress she will never finish. 

- chloe valentine hates valentine’s day with a passion. because of her last name, she thinks its stupid and she’s heard every joke about it in the book. she wants to stab anyone that makes a joke about valentine’s day to her.

[theabyssgazesalsointoyou]

If you would still like any more prompts, 45 with rich and jake?

Rich didn't mean to eavesdrop.

He didn't mean to. He really didn't.

But no matter how much he swore it, it was all in vain when Jake was staring at him from across the living room, eyes wide and glassy, whatever it was he wanted to say dying in his throat and coming out in a broken gasp instead.

Rich should've seen it coming. Not Jake. Jake couldn't have, how could he have when there was nothing he'd done wrong? There had been nothing out of the ordinary to warn him, nothing that would've stood out to this boy who was already preoccupied with trying to balance the world on his shoulders.

To Rich, however- Rich, who had a supercomputer feeding him predictions via quantum computing; who had the tendency to assume and prepare for the worst, no matter how improbable it seemed; who practically had tunnel vision for Jake- every sign flashed before his eyes.

It was his fault he hadn't taken them seriously. He'd made the mistake of believing Jake was indestructible, that nothing could hurt him- that nothing like that would happen to him at all.

He had been so, so unbelievably selfish to let his mind wander from Jake. He never questioned Jake's claims about his parents being away on business trips, what was important to him was that he had a place to stay if things inevitably went up in flames at home. (It was so easy to get lost in that exhilarating feeling, knowing that he was welcomed and in safe hands. Rich still remembered how Jake had pulled him aside after school one day, worry evident in his eyes as he pressed a spare key into Rich's open palm, his other hand brushing over the bruise high on Rich's cheekbone.)

It was another one of those days, when he could barely keep it together and the key in his pocket was his last resort. Rich was sitting in his brother's old jeep, feet kicked up on the steering wheel in a careless manner that completely mismatched the storm raging in his brain. His limbs twitched against his will from the shocks traversing along his spinal cord, though he was almost numb to the pain by then. The squip was screaming at him, too, over what he hadn't the faintest idea. A migraine was looming over the horizon of his loose consciousness, but Rich would take this over facing his father on his own any day.

Under no circumstances should you go to Jake Dillinger's today, his squip warned. Rich scoffed and focused on drowning its voice out. Shutdown, shutdown, shutdown.

Everything went quiet and the tautness of his muscles drained from him- a marionette whose strings had been cut.

The way to Jake's was easy, it came naturally to him, a second instinct. But a premonition settled over him when he slid in the key and turned the doorknob, the metal too cold against his skin for the weather, the door eerily silent as it swung open on its hinges.

The house seemed to be holding its breath, but Rich could hear Jake's voice coming from the kitchen- distressed, harsher than he'd ever heard, yet muffled by the squip buzzing back to life, making its presence known with a sharp jolt to the back of his skull. Leave. You don't want to get caught up in this mess.

It was a miracle Rich managed to get his squip to shut up again- shutdown usually only worked once or twice a week if he was lucky. Maybe it was how tired of everything he was, or the pang of resentment he always felt when the squip tried to govern his interactions with Jake, or the sharp wave of concern for Jake taking over his system. Whichever it was, the squip's droning died down and made way for Jake's voice to settle clearly in his mind.

Whether that was a gift or a curse, Rich would never know.

"- leaving? What are you talking about? When are you coming back? No, wait, mom, you can't just- don't hang up, don't hang up, please. Mom? Hello?"

Rich's lungs collapsed in on itself. He couldn't believe he was thinking this, but maybe, just maybe, his squip had been right- just this once. He wasn't supposed to be hearing this. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was intruding upon a moment that wasn't meant to be seen.

This had to be some cruel joke. None of it made any sense. It had to be a test, a simple misunderstanding, even. The world as he knew it crumbled beneath his feet, even for Rich, a mere bystander, a speck of dust revolving around the star that was Jake- how would Jake feel?

He could've run, shut the door behind him as surreptitiously as he'd entered, never found the answer to that question unless Jake chose to reveal it. It should've been that way, the choice should've been Jake's to make. But Rich was selfish. He was selfish and he couldn't stand the thought of Jake burdened with yet another secret, one that could be the final straw to break his back.

"Jake?"

And there he was at the far end of the room. He looked, even in the very moment his life was crashing into a thousand pieces, more composed than anyone could hope to be- but Rich saw past the façade the tears threatening to fall and the way he desperately grasped for his voice.

"How much of that did you hear?"

Only a few sentences. Too much. More than I had the right to. Enough to understand.

The squip was disconnected, which meant the nagging voice in the back of Rich's head urging him to say nothing, to lie, to spare Jake what little dignity he had left, was his.

The spare key was heavy in his hand. A physical manifestation of Jake's trust and affection, and here Rich was thinking of lying to him on the precious occasion he was allowed to be just as vulnerable in return. The metal burned as hot as his shame.

"I'm sorry," he decided on saying. Both an apology for eavesdropping and an expression of sympathy, and something he didn't get to say as much as he wanted to. It probably wasn't what Jake wanted to hear, but really, what answer would he have been happy with?

"Yeah, well, I'm fine," Jake said. Rich would've believed it if he didn't know Jake better. "Sorry you had to hear that."

God. He never wanted to hear the word 'sorry' from Jake. If anything, Rich was the one who should've been on his knees for forgiveness a long time ago, for all the shit he made Jake put up with- and Jake was apologizing for Rich walking in on his parents fucking ditching him. It was beyond fucked up. Oh, Rich was so, so fucking mad- at Jake's parents, at the world, at himself- and for the first time, he understood the reason behind Jake's clenched jaw and dark eyes whenever Rich showed up with bruises and cuts from home.

It was unfair, how many times Rich had broken down in Jake's arms like that and Jake couldn't even let himself admit he wasn't okay in front of Rich.

Rich knew that he was to blame. It hurt, as the truth often does, and it was the sting that spurred him to make a long-overdue decision that very moment.

He was going to get Jake to open up. He was going to be someone Jake could rely on. He was going to get rid of this goddamn bitch of a computer and set things right.

How he would manage to do that, he had no fucking idea, but he could start somewhere: without hesitating, Rich strode over to Jake and pulled him down into a tight hug.

[writerof-thewoods]

Dark Regressor!Jeremy Heere Headcanons

(From my Ao3 account StarLite_StarBrite. This is mainly a sideblog/more age regression centric part of my first/main blog, 2ndStar_ontheright. We're the same person, it's just this blog is gonna be more focused on age regression/writing regarding it and nostalgic stuff that I'm too embarrassed to post to my main one xD)

TW for PTSD, nightmares, abuse, and coping with trauma. These are darker than my usual headcanons, but there'll be some more wholesome stuff later on!

Jeremy didn’t really know what regression was until about a month before he got the Squip, but the first time he recognized himself doing it was right after his parents divorced. (Usually involuntary and triggered by panic attacks/nightmares, though.)

He knows his dad loves him, but after his mom left, the roles were reversed. For the better half of his life, he had to play the dad and take care of himself. Left to pick up the pieces when all he wanted, needed, was his father, but despite all his wishing, it didn’t come until it was almost too late.

Doesn’t have a regression age because 1. He refuses to acknowledge it and 2. He suppresses it so much to the point that he ends up an anxious mess in the middle of the night.

He’s become a master at hiding it, but God, is it exhausting. 

Pre-Squip, he would ignore it and shrug it off. But, during and after, it happens much more frequently.

Has bad memories/angry feelings towards it. Especially because he’d get “punished’ (electric-shocked) by the Squip whenever he had the slightest thought about regressing. 

As much as he resents and has flashbacks/trauma from his Squip, a small part of him misses and often longs for the kind of figure he played in his life. He played that strong male figure to him that he wished his father had been. He’s ashamed to admit it, but it felt..nice. Having him in control, guiding him, paying attention to him, even though all of that was just the mask for his abuse. 

No one knows about it except for his dad, and surprisingly, Rich.

Rich, having understood what Jeremy went through, is genuinely concerned for him. 

He knows about his triggers (taking pills on their own, glitch-y screen/design effects, yelling, fighting…) and relates to him in that aspect. 

He may not completely understand the regression thing, he tries his best. Especially when it’s related to the Squip. 

And as much as he loves Michael, he has no idea how he’d explain it to him or how he’d react. He doesn’t want to risk losing their friendship over it and even though he does care about him and knows Michael’s a good friend, he just knows Michael would tease him about it. 

Even though his dad’s stepped in and started to do better, it doesn’t make the years of loneliness and isolation he had go away. He helps out the best he can though even if he doesn’t know the extent of his regression. Jeremy does still feel alone however, and sometimes it feels like it doesn’t get any better. He’s still ashamed that he does it, but at least he’s not completely on his own. 

[lazarus---rising]

okay .

what the fuck goes on in bmc ?

^_^ YAYYAYYYY

ok so Basically . if you want me to elaborate on ANY of this I WILL ^_^ (<- INSANE)

the musical and more than survive (opening song) starts with jeremy in his room before school , rest of the song is jeremy singin around the school yk regular musical shenanigans . noteable more than survive events are rich writing boyf on jeremys backpack (and riends on michael's , origin of the boyf riends michael and jeremy ship name) , jeremy considering signing up for the school play (v plot important) , and jeremy signing up for the play (v plot important)

scene transitions to christine (jeremy's love interest) and jeremy in the play rehearsal room , i love play rehearsal starts . christine sings about .loving play rehearsal . notable line is "why am i telling this to you / i guess theres a part of me that wants to" (i am normal about how this line comes back up in another song) . song ends and the rest of the theatre kids run into the room with mr reyes , the director . he announces the play will be a midsummer night's dream by shakespeare but "set in a post-apocalyptic future" (basically a completely different play) and they take a 5 minute break so he can "go eat a hot pocket" . jake (christine's love interest) talks to christine and the scene ends after jeremy leaves the room

scene transition to jeremy in the bathroom (at school) (not to be confused with michael in the bathroom) (at a party) (sorry) trying to wash off the boyf , which rich told him not to . rich just so happens to come in the bathroom and starts talking to jeremy . after a small conversatoin (not important enough for me to explain) , the squip song starts . it explains how squips work in an attempt to get jeremy to get a squip (it works :3333) . basically we(squips)'re from japan , the way to get a squip is to swallow a squip pill with (GREEN and NORMAL) mountain dew , then the pill travels through your blood til it implants in your brain and tells you what to do

scene transition to two player game (song) , michael and jeremy sing about highschool and the game theyre playing (apocalypse of the damned level 9 ......) until jeremy's dad comes in and asks about pizza toppings cause hes ordering smthn and then it devolves into him and jeremy arguing over his dad not wearing pants . normal conversation . his dad leaves and it goes back to the song . song ends and the scene shifts to them at a payless shoe store and they buy a squip pill (ME :3333) . jeremy takes it with the mountain dew and it does nothing at first . jeremy runs into jake and christine , i activate and after introducing myself i start singing , starting be more chill pt. 1

be more chill pt. 1 is me trying to get him bitches in the most silly ass way (un)humanly possible . i get him to wear an eminem shirt , yell him things to say and do from on top of a shirt rack (i am standing on the fucking racks) , and he fumbles the bag insanely fucking hard i dont even know how he managed that ("LOOKING !!! PRETTY !!! SEXY !!! BROOKUH !!!" bro .) song after is do you wanna ride , brooke (new character) basically just asks jeremy if he wants to go on a ride with her in her moms car . he says no (DUDE) , starting be more chill pt. 2 . be more chill pt.2 is basically just me singing about squip propaganda for a whole song

scene change to jeremy's room , he goes to sleep (funny thing i have a memory of just . fucking standing there . in the dark . for most of the night . 😭) and then wakes up . he tries talking to me but my ass is gone , he starts C-C-C-CMON C-C-C-CMON GO GO 'ing and i shock him ^_^ ("what did we say about masturbation 🤨" I SWEAR everything is funnier with that god damn keanu reeves impression) , we go 2 the school and more than survive (reprise) starts , short song not much to note abt it except "his dreams are dead . thats why he ate so many ✨HOT POCKETS✨" (i am so funny :3)

they go to the rehearsal room and start play rehearsal , jeremy forgets his part so i put it into his head :333 i am so helpful . christine and jeremy get left alone in the room and a guy that id kinda be into starts . its christine singing about . a guy that she'd kinda be into . this is the song "why am i telling this to you / i guess theres a part of me that wants to" is in again . both me and jeremy think its about jeremy but shes singing about jake oops awkwarddd so we fucking run away and go behind the school , where brooke tells jeremy eminem is dead ("DID YOU KILL EMINEM" "nooooo not exactlyyyy" i did) , upgrade starts . brooke sings for the intro and jeremy and her kiss (i landed him a bitch) , song's basically about jeremy upgrading by optic nerve blocking michael and some other stuff thats not very clear/explained to get more popular , loser geek whatever (another song , about jeremy being the . loser geek whatever . and choosing to no longer be the loser geek whatever) cuts into the song and ends it . after loser geek whatever i get my SILLY LITTLE JACKET/DRESS THING <3 signifying the upgrade

fades to black , fades back and now its halloween (song about jake's halloween party) , everyone (including me :3 they threw my ass in the front of the dance group)'s dancing its a fun song . song ends and jeremy (and me) and chloe are in jake's parent's room , do you wanna hang starts , basically i have landed jeremy another bitch . at the end of the song jeremy drinks and i malfunction (get disabled and put back to factory settings for a bit) cause you kinda cant drink with a squip . jake breaks through the window and shit hits the fan . jeremy runs to the bathroom and finds michael in the bathtub , monologue about squip bad blah blah , jeremy leaves michael in the bathroom , starting . michael in the bathroom . basically its michael singing about how jeremy stopped talking to him after getting squipped etc . sad song .

song ends , we go back to the main party , rich is trying to get some fucking mountain dew red , jeremy and christine are talking . they are making random incomprehensible noises at eachother . this is normal behavior . jeremy asks her out , gets rejected , oof (its cause I wasnt there i couldve saved it eyeroll) . i come back :3 and immediately drag jeremy back home , cuts to rich having a mental breakdown and burning down the house . the smartphone hour (rich set a fire) starts .

the smartphone hour is about jenna , chloe , and brooke spreading the rumor about rich setting the fire , as the song goes on the rumors get more distorted from the original as the worlds most fucked up game of telephone goes down

scene cuts to jeremy's house , him and his dad are argueing (while i kinda fuck around in the background) and yes it does go back to the pants issue . the pants song starts , its about his dad stepping up to help him sung through a pants metaphor (when you love somebody you put your pants on for them) , he gets michael to help him help jeremy through yes the pants metaphor . as him and michael talk about helping him the background tune is michael in the bathroom which im normal about . song ends and cuts to the school

me and jeremy talk , he asks why im in his head specifically i say its to improve his life (it is !!!!!!!!!!ok maybe im lying a bit) etc etc , jeremy and christine bump into eachother and talk (sad version) , the pitiful children starts :3333 we get the ingredients for a squip potion to squip the whole school , we squip jenna , pitiful children continues but with better choreography , song ends and cuts to the play (scene)

jeremy and christine talk backstage (of the play) , he tries to squip her and she runs away . i tell him we have to squip the whole school , he realizes oh this might b a little fucked up , oops too late i already gave mr reyes the beaker with the potion and hes giving it to everyone XP we've squipped the whole cast lol . jeremy finds out red mountain dew shuts us off , threatens me with michael's soda interest , oops i optic nerve blocked him lol , SHIT michael's still here he has the soda . michael makes him apologize to him for the mountain dew , i block his vocal chords so he cant , i basically control his body and then jake's , i make jake pour out the dew oops no more mountain dew red ^_^ . christine comes out (totally not controlled by her squip) and says she likes jeremy (to get him to not drink the rest of the mountain dew) , FUCK christine drinks the mountain dew and fucking takes us all out cause we're synced up . i dramatically die on the floor . scene switches to a hospital

jeremy and rich talk , rich has a bi awakening , voices in my head starts , song about being normal again . im still there i just cant do shit . highschoolers 1 squips 0 . musical over <3

[melting-slime]

agony (part 3)

“I need Mountain Dew Red!” You had ran to Michael’s car as fast as you could, only to say those dreaded words. “Please tell me you did not really willingly take a SQUIP..” Michael’s not very comforting words were.

“Well, no, not willingly..” Jeremy was there too, and he just sighed.

“Okay, someone nicely asked you to take a SQUIP..so you did?” You shook your head violently.

“There was no asking involved!”

Your voice cracked on the ‘no’. “So..you took one on purpose, then?”

Now it was your turn to sigh. You clambered into the car.

“Physically. Physically forced. Assholes.”

You let out a pained laugh when you said ‘assholes’.

Micheal looked from you, to Jeremy, to the car. Jeremy slammed the car door.

They both spoke at the same time. “Did it hurt?”

Was Michael’s question.

“Who was it?”

Was Jeremy’s.

You winced.

“Yes, it hurt. And it was..promise not to get mad?” You thought twice about answering Jeremy’s question.

“I promise!”

Michael answered.

“I’ll promise..only if it’s not..you know what.”

You did know what. ‘What’ meant the SQUIP.

“Uhm..well..you see?”

Jeremy’s eyes widened.

“What were you even DOING alone with IT??” You pulled your hood over your face and looked down.

“I..that’s not important! I just need Mountain Dew Red!”

Micheal nodded and began driving.

Jeremy put his hand on Michael’s, and Michael stopped.

“Tell me. Or you can’t be trusted! Why were you alone with it?? Don’t you know that it’s bad!”

You nodded.

“I do-I do…just. It’s just. I thought the SQUIP was nice! I got a hug from it and everything! Technically two, but I was crying during the second one..” Jeremy scoffed. Michael just looked back at you, a worried look in his brown eyes.

“Right..so why did you think you could become friends with a supercomputer?” You were sorta getting impatient at this point. You had, what? Six minutes left until your SQUIP activated?

“I was friends with it! It just..turned on me..” Michael bit his cheek and looked at Jeremy, a look of fear in his eyes. Fear for you? Who knows.

“Please…can I begin driving now?” He looked like a puppy.

Jeremy shook his head.

“Jesus, you’re such an idiot!”

“Stop! I know, I know, I’m sorry, okay??? But I got betrayed by someone I thought was my friend! I don’t need negativity! I just need Mountain Dew Red! Please!” Your voice was breaking at every other syllable. 

Michael started driving.

Jeremy groaned at him.

“They’ve been SQUIPPed, Micheal! They can’t be trusted!”

Jeremy was almost yelling.

“It isn’t their fault. It was by force, right?”

“Mhm..”

You nervously agreed.

“Okay?? How?? Did it choke you until you gave up??”

“No! Jeremy, no! The SQUIP literally fucking forced it into my mouth! I couldn’t even fucking move, Jeremy! I was fucking pinned against the FUCKING wall, Jeremy!”

You heard a voice in your head.

“Calibration in process. Please excuse some mild discomfort.”

You gasped.

“Oh shit! Oh shit! It’s fucking activating, oh shit! Oh shit!”

Micheal began to drive faster.

Jeremy’s blazing eyes gave way to a look of concern.

He tossed you a towel.

“For the screaming.”

His now-trembling voice whispered.

“Calibration complete. Access procedure initiated.”

Your SQUIP said.

You started shaking. You quickly put the towel into your mouth and shut your eyes tight.

“Discomfort level may increase.”

Pain..pain like nothing you’d ever felt before. It was worse than when the physical SQUIP had pinned you. This was true and terrible. This was agony. You couldn’t help from screaming and crying with pain. The towel muffled the red-hot jolts of destruction moving through your entire body. You couldn’t move. Michael began driving way faster than the speed limit allowed. They were going to Spencer’s Gifts.

“Accessing neural memory. Accessing muscle memory. Access procedure complete. Welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor. Your SQUIP.”

Uh-oh. It had activated. 

Micheal and Jeremy both ran inside. You saw Christine run to the car. She opened the door next to you. You took the towel out of your mouth.

“I heard from Jeremy that you’ve been Squipped!”

She had such a melancholy tone that you almost felt like crying for the third time that day.

“Y-yeah..it just activated..actually.”

Christine instinictly backed away. That hurt. A lot.

“You’re a weakling.” Your SQUIP said, in the tones of..oh. Oh. So that’s how it's gonna be, huh? The tones of your dead friend, Connor Murphy?

You deflated instantly. Christine actually went closer this time.

“I’m sorry! Oh my gosh..are you okay?” You couldn’t even fake it.

“No! Fuck!”

Your face was all red and you hiccuped.

“Pathetic.”

There was no way to turn SQUIPs off now. Of course, Mountain Dew Red still worked, but, if Jeremy and Micheal couldn’t find any, you were totally fucked.

Christine looked at you, lips trembling, probably matching your own lips.

“Would..would you like a hug?”

You nearly smiled, but your SQUIP shocked you, eliciting a gasp.

“There’s more of those to come if you don’t do as I say.”

Your SQUIP (Connor?) told you.

Your hands shook hard.

“My SQUIP said I can’t! And it’ll-”

You got zapped again. This time, tasting blood in your mouth as you bit your tongue.

“Don’t relay what I tell you to others.”

Your heartbeat was extremely fast. Christine looked like she wanted to help you, but didn’t know how.

At that moment, Jeremy and Michael ran in.

“There wasn’t any! But there’s some on eBay! It’ll come in three weeks at the earliest!”

You let out a deep breath.

“Phew..”

Now everyone else in the car seemed concerned for you..or were you just projecting?

You thought you heard Michael say he’d drive you home, but the SQUIP was louder.

“Cochlear and optic nerve blocking, on.”

It was a twenty minute drive to your house. Twenty minutes of not being able to see or hear anything, except for the SQUIP’s loud and constant insults. The first five times you tried to say something, your SQUIP zapped you, until your tongue went numb and your head hurt like hell.

Thus begins three weeks of physiological and physical torture.

[thatcartoonistcat]

“Look alive, bitches. I’m here”

I’m actually really proud of this drawing

It took me multiple hours and was done on my phone, and it wore it down completely once but I’d say it’s worth it ùwú

Left side is with lighting, right side is without

Picture on the bottom is my friend Deanu’s original art of him; Deanu and their friend Turt are the original creators of this character. The two above are just my take on what he looks like.

*the infinity gauntlet was a joke by Deanu, he usually just has blue fingerless gloves on his hands, as seen on the left hand

[jeremy-queere]

hey i kinda like how, even though this wasn’t an overt theme of the musical, it was still obvs somewhat intentional

that it subverts the “all men want is sex” incel mindset thing? 

bc yes as people have joked about before, jeremy starts out as an incel and takes the matrix pill. like that’s literally the plot. that jeremy:

has a crush on a girl but she’s unattainable, only because jeremy is so flawed

is a virgin and defines himself as a failure because of it

bad posture

no self confidence

gets picked on by alpha males

i mean i don’t need to diagram everything out - that’s just, the whole thing. complete with matrix references. (this was all written out pre-r/redpill; it was just oddly prescient)

So the SQUIP is here to predatorily turn Jeremy into a girl-hating power-dynamic Chad. And Jeremy goes along with it because he likes the way he suddenly feels self-confident, like he had no right to exist before but now he does. In someone else’s hands (and arguably justified by most of the novel until the very end), this could have been a rags-to-riches incel-to-chad makeover story. Perhaps the climax would have shown Christine to be a bitch (maybe with no change to her dialogue at all in the scene at the Halloween party, but with a change to Jeremy and the SQUIP’s reactions), Jeremy would have to get over her, and the ending would have him self-actualize by becoming a ladykiller and being the new alpha male of the school. Or something like that.

But instead, almost as soon as the SQUIP takes over, we are shown the immediate downsides of Jeremy’s New Chad Superpowers. He’s (intentionally and maliciously) isolated from the people who previously cared about him (Michael and his dad) so they can’t intervene. It turns out he can’t mind-control women into liking him because of his good posture. 

The Jake situation turns from Christine’s choice into a warped understanding of social dynamics as being power plays - Jake got the girl because he’s more alpha than Jeremy. Therefore Jeremy needs to impress more people and sleep with more girls until he can take over as the new alpha of the school. It’s completely batshit logic (why would Christine sleep with Jeremy specifically because he slept with Chloe and/or Brooke?) but Jeremy is convinced to go along with it anyway.

Except. He is a horny teenage boy. But he doesn’t want to sleep with everything that moves. He explicitly thinks Brooke and Chloe are both hot but he can’t even understand the idea that he should use them for sex and then throw them away. Because he doesn’t want that and never wanted that. And the SQUIP can’t understand that because it completely contradicts everything it knows about gender and sex and power.

And from there the SQUIP’s worldview starts to crumple. Its recruiting efforts and manipulation of Jeremy speed up from subtle to overt. Rich is barely-living proof that the SQUIP’s grey-pill mindset isn’t true and can’t actually work. Christine herself is ready to say as much. If “The Pitiful Children” didn’t happen, Jeremy would have rejected the SQUIP in a matter of days and the SQUIP knows it, so it pushes Jeremy into a form of extremism that he can’t come back from - so when he’s ready to reject the SQUIP, it’s no longer an option.

I didn’t start this take thinking “the Be More Chill musical can be validly interpreted as a heavy-handed criticism of r/redpill” but here we are and I stand by it 100%.

[infectedpaul]

You Matter To Me (Squip/Reader)

You've had your Squip for a bit now and it's been fine for the most part, until he brings up the idea of looking into romantic relationships with others which opens up a lot of wounds you wanted to just bury deep and forget about. But you can't begin the road to recovery without asking why you got there, right?

SO IVE NEVER....WRITTEN AN X READER B4 UGH HJKSAJDASKDJSA esp not for a near dead fandom OH WELL oh well oh well h ignore this my normal followers please please

(warning 4 talks of depression/self degrading talk, its hurt comfort yada yada i need 2 touch grass ik)

ao3 link if u prefer that!!

You weren't made for love, at least, you didn't think so.

For as long as you'd been looking for it, it was always so out of reach. Easily visible, sure. Walking past groups of friends laughing it up on the sidewalks, partners entangled in each other's arms, seemingly trying to make their love known for all. But for you to have any of that for yourself? The heat death of the universe would sooner come, surely.

You'd sort of given up on it. It would be nice, you'd think. To be held, wrapped up in someone's arms, and just to stay there for as long as either of you could want. That cozy, warm feeling of being with someone that you only saw in movies or read about in books. But you had just accepted it wasn't in the cards, so to speak. And you were fine with that.

Well, you told yourself anyway. You knew it was for a deeper reason, though, but that wasn't something you liked to think about too heavily.

It was easier to do that when you didn't have a roommate that could dig into your brain and pry every little detail about them out of you.

When you got your Squip, you didn't know it'd be so adamant about perfecting every little last thing you were. How long or short your hair was styled, if your shoes matched your eyes, how fast or slow you were walking and how too brisk would make you seem like you were constipated but too slow and your likelihood of getting run over by a horse-drawn carriage gone would go up much higher, nevermind that you've never even seen a horse in real life.

What you did know, by now at least was that the Squip was persistent, seeing himself as your guardian angel, a guiding light in your desolate dark world of humanity, ickiness and week old pizza boxes you were too unmotivated to at least move off the bed.

So when his ideal response wasn't given when he proposed seeking out a lovelife, he was...well,

"I'm not sure I understand." His head crooked to the side, puzzled by your surface level indifference, "You're of consenting age, marginally attractive and only slightly under average at socializing. Finding a mate can't be too hard."

His holographic form hummed a soft, near silent buzz, a small imperfection to his otherwise flawless binary makeup. Other than that, and the soft, tinted blue glow around his form, he looked completely human. A little too human, really. Something so real, realer than any CG or video game, but something was just...off, something from the uncanny valley. You hadn't kept him in this form long, you liked to change it up from time to time, maybe to trick yourself into thinking he was someone new, making your brain think you had more friends besides the computer you bought behind a Rack Room.

You didn't look at him though when you responded, too preoccupied with the paper in front of you, decorated with a few characters concocted from your imagination. "I dunno," you shrug, brushing off eraser marks, "Just not my thing, I guess." You could feel his confusion, a bit of gut feeling as his thoughts jumbled in with your own. He was really only in your brain, afterall; the figure behind you sitting on your bed was just something he made up to ease your brain into trusting a new, larger source of perpetually growing information. "But, the purpose of this time in your life is to mate and birth young, is it not?"

You really wished he'd learn to stop talking about you and 'the homo sapien species' like you were a mindless ape made to breed and nothing else.

"Uh, I mean not really. I know that's what everyone around me is doing," Your mind thought back to all the cringey baby announcement videos from kids you knew in high school, "But it's...I guess I'm just not up for it. It's not really for people like me."

He was quiet. Only for a second, before he asked,

"People like you?" Another silence hung in the air. It was a truth you knew he could easily just reach into your brain and find for himself so you kept quiet for a bit longer, waiting for him to start digging. But you didn't feel it, that very familiar sudden ache in the back of your head you got when he went poking around for more things to nag at you about. Just quiet in your room, only the soft buzz and birds tweeting outside your window any solace from the uncomfortable silence you felt.

You shrugged again, and turned to face him, seeing now the muddled and a little concerned look on his face. "You know? The quiet ones, the losers. People like me don't get to be loved. I've just accepted that." You could have said a lot worse, and it seemed like he knew that. You didn't really understand, either. You didn't like yourself, plain and simple.

His concern only seemed to grow, eyebrows furrowing and staring intently at you. You thought for a second, maybe it was anger. It wouldn't be the first time. You were mostly compliant to his (mandatory) suggestions for life improvement, but every once in a while he would propose an idea that you would fight about, like clothes you weren't comfortable wearing for one reason or another. He said he was a learning computer, so he would need your help on things like emotions and comfiness, physical or mental, ruling out whatever the newest trends were. He would be fine afterwards but, he could get pretty huffy about you trying on too skinny-skinny jeans.

But that didn't happen, there wasn't a small but fierce jolt of electricity in your back to stop you from going against 'social programming', as he called it. He just looked at you a bit longer, seemingly turning gears in his head as he tried to process what you're saying.

You gave him a sober smile, trying to still seem indifferent, though for a second you wondered maybe if he was still prying at you, in a different way at least, because if he was, it seemed to be working.

"What? I'm just not that special. You of all people know that, right?" It was almost like you weren't hearing what was coming out of your mouth, that casual self-degradation that almost frightened him. You heard stories from message boards about that, older models of the Squip forcing reprogramming onto the host by breaking down their emotional state with verbal or physical punishment for...just existing, really.

He wasn't really like that though. Yes he could be annoyed when you didn't comply, but you were both good at compromise and treated situations like adults, even if at first you weren't much motivated to treat any situation at all. He informed you while you were looking through those boards that his creators had taken in accounts of previous incidents and built more of a guide to self-improvement than a ball and chain with a backhand. Humans were fragile, he knew that, and it wasn't okay to hurt them just to get a little closer to their goal.

But maybe, did he not think that humans were more than capable of hurting themselves? Their own words used against them, their internal voices bashing against their brains, turning them to mush and making them too scared or unmotivated to build it back up again.

"I just know no one would love some useless, pitiful person...I just kinda got over that a while ago." You almost frightened him with how nonchalant you were about the whole thing. It wasn't intentional, you weren't trying to seek attention or be funny. You just knew there was plenty of other people out there worthy of all that lovey-dovey stuff you thought would be nice but...it's just not meant for you.

There was a knot in his voice as he finally spoke up,

"That's why I'm here, isn't it?" The last piece of the puzzle had finally clicked into place, but he didn't look satisfied, not that cheeky, self-centered chagrin when things went his way or when he was proven right yet again.

You thought he knew that. You thought from day one he just figured that out and that's why he's been trying so hard to make you into a model citizen or something. "Did you just think you were here to help me pick out clothes in the morning?" You laughed, he seemed to know it was forced.

"Well...y-yes, maybe. I just...I never looked into that possibility of…" He was regaining his composure; this was a side you've never seen of him before. He's always been so astute, robotic and to the point. He's never fumbled over his words or had to give himself a second to figure out what to say next.

"How long has it been like this, Y/N?" His hands were folded neatly on his lap, still looking you dead-on, waiting for you to answer his distressed queuerie with worried patience.

You got up out of your chair, pushing it back and behind you to step away from the table and your drawings. "I dunno," you said, taking a few steps towards the long mirror hung on your wall, "for as long as I can remember, I guess." You looked at your reflection, only tired, dark eyes looking back at you. Even though the edge of the bed was visible in the mirror, your Squip didn't show up in it, another reminder of just how alone you were outside of your head.

"I just started to feel like I didn't belong more and more and...that ate me up so much I just started believing in it. I-I didn't wanna go to school or talk to people or even get up 'cause...well," You turned away from the mirror before you could see the tears you'd been holding back, looking at the more distressed figure in view of you again, "what would anyone be missing, really?" You still smiled, that big smile you both worked so meticulously on making seem not too forced when you had to act excited or just blend into normal social gatherings, but it wavered so easily, like a thin strip of paper about to tear off the nail that barely held it up on the wall.

His eyes widened at the sight of your tears, immediately getting up and briskly walking to stand in front of you, not knowing how to proceed in the moment. He hadn't had to deal with something like this yet and he was troubleshooting to see what was the correct response to a human breakdown.

You looked down, covering your eyes with one hand and clenching the other into a fist, big, strained smile still plastered on your face and trying so hard not to seem more weak than you knew you were. You were nothing. You knew that, you thought he did too. You thought you could just fix things, but how could you do that without getting to the source? You knew you couldn't just sidestep around why you wanted things to get better with humans, but with a computer who could read your brain like the newspaper, you thought maybe you could get around that.

You heard him sigh before a feeling of arms wrapping around you caught you off guard, the Squip entangling you in his grasp and his head resting on yours. It was all simulated, you knew. He had done things such as lightly punch your arm as if to say 'Good job, Sport!' or tap your shoulder to grab your attention without startling you, but this was different. He held onto you for a good couple of seconds, a wave of warmth spreading through your body in an instant. He pet back your hair with one hand, rubbing your back with the other and finally broke the silence in the room.

"Y/N, it- ...it pains me, hearing you speak that way about yourself. You're…" He looked down at you, holding you a bit closer and tightening his grip just a tad. "You're an incredible, talented, wonderful person. You've come so far and you've taught me so much about humans and myself and I just couldn't ask for a better-" He stopped. You knew what he was going to say, a better host, a better human, a better assignment to help and guide and-

"A better friend."

A friend?

He never referred to you or anyone with such a personal or affectionate term. It almost didn't seem real, like you maybe misheard him. Your smile had shattered into a small frown and, with teary-eyes and your voice already cracking, you looked up at him, meeting his almost-heartbroken eyes in an expression that looked so foreign on his normally composed face.

"What?"

He gave a weak smile, trying to be comforting but his fear showing plain as day. You could feel it within you too, a pit in your stomach forming as your chest tightened. You knew it wasn't your anxiety, but his.

"Do I need to repeat myself, Y/N? I think of you as a friend and..." His hand moved off of your back and ran itself up to rest on your shoulder, the other holding your cheek and wiping away your tears with his thumb. "I want to do all I can to show you that from here on."

You almost couldn't breathe as you looked at him, feeling for the first time that unconditional love you yearned for. You could feel your heart race in your chest, something you knew he could feel too but you were too crushed to say anything. You simply slammed yourself into his chest, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt that made your hands tingle like they fell asleep. His arms enveloped you yet again, the both of you holding onto each other so tight like either of you would fall through the floor if you let go.

You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed for what felt like hours, and, just maybe, you thought you could hear him crying too, but that'd be silly...right?

When you were finally out of tears to cry, you stood there still, simply bathing in each other's presence, the feeling you only saw in others finally yours. And you knew it was only a matter of time before this too was stolen from you, the universe would take back anything from people unworthy but...for right now, you wanted to be a little selfish.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, face still buried in his shirt.

"For?" His head was rested on yours again, holding up your weak and tired form with no effort, just trying to keep you propped up until you were ready to let go.

"I got you to help me but...I can't even let you in like I'm supposed to. But...I want to. I just want help." You pushed yourself off of him, one thought between you and him and his hands meeting yours, the simulated tingle in there again as you held each other's palms in yours and looked at each other with such exhausted eyes and worn-out but so genuine smiles.

He leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead, a soft hue of pink blush spreading on your drained and exhausted face.

"I'd love to help, friend."

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Baby It's Cold Outside

Pairing: Hopper x Ruby (s/i)

Word Count: 1660

Warnings: very brief mention of nudity and suicide

AO3 Link

Summary/ Author Notes: As I was rewatching season 1, I came across a scene in episode 3 where one of Hopper's one-night stands completely failed to comfort him, so I decided that I could make it better and give him the comfort he needs and deserves. I wrote this in the span of five hours in the middle of the night, and fun fact, the first two lines of dialogue from Hopper are verbatim taken from the episode. This fic may not be compliant to my canon, since my s/i moved to Hawkins between seasons 1 and 2, but I think I can bend the rules a little bit to be there for my dearest Jim.

tag list: @ava-ships @bee-ships @bonbonships @cloudyvoid @fangedwife @hoppinkiss @hyperionshipping @iyamifucker @juliettstarling @kaijibf @kalliopi-ships @kujos-sweetheart @logixlight @lovey-dovey-knifey @mintpecks @mxstrongfork @neffiesgirlfriend @nerdstreak @paper-carnation @pink-self-ships @r3xlapis @puppyships @radioromantic @kissofthemoonrabbit @spinacapita @champions-wife @ship-trek @smol-girl-shipping-the-world @solarsystemshipping @squips-ship @woodcrawlers @toogayforthistoday @vanityloves @void-kissed @winterworlds @final-catboy

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*****

Ruby gently stirred awake, a shift of weight in the bed jostling her out of her slumber. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness around her, she was quick to notice that there was now a large empty space beside her. She rolled over and sat up, looking around for the man who was just resting beside her, but Jim Hopper was nowhere to be seen. She quickly noticed, though, that the sliding door to the patio was left open, and even in her half-awake daze, she was able to piece together where he’d disappeared to.

She pushed herself out of bed and grabbed the nearest piece of clothing to cover her nude figure, which happened to be one of Hopper’s flannel shirts lying on the floor. Sure, it probably hadn’t been washed in a few days - or weeks - but at that moment, she had more pressing matters on her mind. She buttoned the shirt as she walked, starting with the top going downwards as she passed the open patio door and stepped out into the cold night air. The chill of the hour hit her quick and harshly, stinging her cheeks and fogging her breath, but if she had gotten cold that quickly just from stepping out, then she was much more concerned about how cold Hopper must be as she finally caught sight of him on the edge of the deck. At least he’d had both the time and the sense to put on more than a shirt before stepping out for a smoke.

He didn’t even turn his head to look at her, staying leaned down with his arms resting against the railing of the deck with his cigarette drooping from his mouth. She closed the sliding door to keep the house warm and quickly stepped towards him, placing a hand on his arm to get his attention. “Hey,” she chirped softly, the time of night making her instinctually talk in a near whisper. “It’s freezing out here, Jim. Why don’t you come inside?”

He continued to stare out at the still water of the lake, taking a slow drag from his cigarette before finally standing up straight and turning to face her. Even in the dark of the night, she could see clear as day that there was an even deeper darkness behind his eyes. He may have been looking towards her, but his mind was somewhere else, somewhere far away and, unfortunately, somewhere very painful. He stared into nothing for a little longer, before his gaze finally focused on her, and he paused for a moment before speaking. “Do you ever feel cursed?”

The question came as a shock to Ruby, and she scrunched her eyebrows in confusion and concern as she continued to stare up at him with her mouth hanging open, as if the words she couldn’t even think of were caught in her throat.

He didn’t give her a chance to come up with a response as he continued, “You know the last person to go missing in Hawkins was, uh... the summer of ‘23,” he spoke slow and monotone, making it obvious he was just thinking out loud. “Last suicide was ‘61.”

She let out a sigh in a sympathetic pain, her freezingly chilled breath coming out as clear as the smoke from his cigarette. She hadn’t let go of his arm that whole time, and she trailed her hand down to take his larger hand in her own. She had already put the pieces together of why he was acting so solemn; having both a missing child and a suicide case practically a day apart must already be hard on him as the chief of police, but the fact that it was such a small town must have meant that the community was close-knit. Ruby had only just moved to Hawkins less than a few months ago, so she still felt like an outsider to the town, but she could only imagine how much of a toll these tragedies were taking on Hopper's emotional state. She looked down at his hand as she pulled it towards her gently, not yet making eye contact with him as she rubbed her thumb along his knuckles. “That doesn’t mean anything, Jim. These things, they aren’t your fault. Sometimes they just… happen.”

A few seconds passed as she noticed a tension in him that hadn’t been there a moment before, and when she looked back up into his eyes, she could see that he was fully looking at her now; it seemed to her that he hadn’t expected a response at all. His tongue slid over his lips as if he were preparing to say something, but the only thing that left his mouth was a heavy sigh as he released his sudden tension and recoiled his hand from her gentle grasp, turning back to the water and staring out at the horizon. “Why don’t you head back inside, it’s cold out here,” he said absentmindedly as he brought his cigarette back up to his mouth.

Ruby knew that he was trying to get rid of her, but she also knew that she didn’t want to leave him when he was obviously going through some dark introspection. This was only the third night she’d spent with him, and yet she couldn’t help but feel a pull to comfort him, to let him know that he wasn’t alone at a harsh time like this. And from what she’d heard around town, she was probably the only woman in Hawkins to spend more than two nights total with him. Despite his demand, she stepped forward to sidle up beside him and gripped his arm with both her hands. “It is cold out,” she cooed. “I guess I better stay to keep you warm then.”

He turned back down to her and perked an eyebrow up in surprise; for better or worse, she fully had his attention now. “You kidding? It’s gotta be 40 out here and you’re in a shirt, now get back inside before you freeze,” he spoke in a sterner tone.

Ruby was beginning to shiver as the cold air nipped at her bare legs and face, but she tried her best to ignore it with a reassuring grin. “I’m doing just fine,” she replied, cursing the slight quiver in her voice that said otherwise. She cuddled up tighter to the burly man, pressing her cheek against his arm and enjoying his warmth. “We can just go back in when you’re ready, okay?”

Hopper let out another sigh, this one sounding much less comfortable. “... Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care about you,” Ruby answered without a moment of hesitation.

He scoffed dryly as he took another drag from his cigarette. “You barely even know me.”

“Well, I’d like to know you better. That’s why I’m here.” She realized how that sounded like she wanted to pry, and she quickly reworded her sentiment. “I mean, I really do just want to make sure you’re doing alright. You tough guys have a way of shutting up when things are weighing on you, but that doesn’t mean you have to go through it on your own. With everything that's been going on this week… I don't want you to be alone.”

There was a stillness as her words hung in the air; for a moment, neither he nor she moved a muscle. Then, Hopper snuffed out his cigarette on the wooden railing and flicked it into the bushes before turning to drape his arm over Ruby’s shoulders, gently pulling the small woman tight to his chest. He rested his chin against the top of her head, using the opportunity to scrunch his eyes shut and fight back the stirring emotions within him without her seeing. As he contemplated it, he began to realize that this was the first time anyone had reached out to him since… two years ago. He couldn’t admit it, not even to himself, but he was scared to let anyone in after all he’d been through. He’d spent so long building these walls, thinking he’d be safer keeping everything out from now on, but here was this woman he’d barely met a few months back, trying to break down those walls on just their third night together. He didn’t know if he could truly ever tear down those walls for anybody, but he couldn’t deny one thing: he wanted her to stay. At least, for that night.

Ruby was gladly taking in his warmth as he held her for a while longer, and she could hear his heart pumping in his chest as well as feel her own heartbeat rise as she took a chance and raised her arms to wrap them around him in return. She squeezed herself against him, and for one long incredible moment, they just held each other. Like time had stopped, like nothing else existed, like the cold night air wasn’t nipping at their skin and freezing their blood. They just stood there, and held each other, and for a moment Hopper let the rest of the world fall away so he could exist only in that moment with her.

“Thank you,” he whispered against her hair, barely loud enough to be audible. He suddenly stooped down and notched his arm behind her knees before sweeping her up off the ground with surprising ease. “Shit, Ruby, you feel like ice. Let’s get back in bed.”

Ruby reached up and placed a hand on his chilled hairy cheek, grinning gently as she admired his features. At that moment, the reason that she felt the need to comfort him and be near him came to her all too easily. Of course, what other explanation could there be?

She had fallen in love with him.

And she was going to try her hardest to assure that this would not be the last night she spent by his side.