Vaguely a part of my Snapshotsduet.

cw for domestic violence, slapping, verbal abuse

[ao3]

“Schlatt!” calls Quackity, stumbling after him down the halls of the White House. His face is pale, hands shaking. There’s blood on his starched white shirt. His jacket smells of gunpowder. He keeps seeing Tubbo’s face behind his eyelids every time he blinks, shocked, scared, childish, from the moment right before the fireworks hit. “Schlatt, what the fuckwas–”

Schlatt ignores him. Doesn’t even so much as slow down. He’s walking with a confidence and clarity of purpose Quackity’s never seen him move with before. It’s a little frightening. It’s a little unnerving.

It’s a little like discovering that the lazy old mutt you’ve had living out in your back garden for months is, in fact, a purebred wolf.

When he finally catches up, he grabs Schlatt’s elbow, shakes it. “No, Schlatt, look at me, seriously, what the– what the fuckwasthat, because you just– that was murder, Schlatt! That was an execution! You just, we just, that was a citizen we just killed! He’s a kid! What–”

Schlatt backhands him.

The blow knocks Quackity to the floor, leaves him sat on his ass and staring up at Schlatt in shocked bewilderment. His lip has split, badly, dribbling wet crimson down his chin. His cheek throbs in time to his heartbeat, turning pink to red to almost-purple with a rising bruise. His brain can’t quite work out what’s just happened. Schlatt’s hit him before, of course, but– not like this. Not properly, not with actual power behind it. Not like he means it.

Schlatt starts advancing. He still looks like he means it.

Quackity starts doing his best to crawl away, one-handed, still on his back, not daring to take his eyes off Schlatt. “Schlatt–” he gasps, a hand pressed to his cheek, his forearm held awkwardly over his face.

“You fucking pussying out on me now?” snarls Schlatt, still advancing with a predator’s prowl, matching Quackity’s desperate scrabbling inch for inch. “Are you? Are you?” He raises a fist and grins when Quackity flinches, all big teeth and whiskey-breath. “Fucking answerme when I’m speaking to you, you little shit!”

“I, I, Schlatt, I–” Quackity stammers out– something, terrified, eyes wide. When words fail, he whimpers, more of a sob. He starts trying to cover his head rather than just his face as he scrambles backwards.

His efforts at self-defence are for nothing. Schlatt catches him, as easy as a dog with a rat, hauls him up by his collar to backhand him again.

Quackity’s nose starts bleeding, profusely.

“You wanted this, sweetheart!” snarls Schlatt, face inches from Quackity’s bloody, bruised one. The grin is more of a snarl, now, bared-teeth and nasty and mad. “You agreed to be my fuckin’ vice, you agreed to run this goddamn shithole of a country, and now you want to fucking pussy out on what it takes to be a leader? You got cold fucking feet?”

Another backhand. Quackity’s face is a mess of red, his pupils blown huge with fear, his mouth half-open and his swollen lower lip trembling.

“Oh no, pumpkin, oh no. You do not fucking get to do that. You hear me? You don’t get to do that. We’re in this together, to the end of the fucking line, sugar plum, and if you- if you start trying to do whatever the fuck thisis, then I’m gonna get real fucking mad. Okay?“

He shakes Quackity, hard enough Quackity’s teeth clack together. Hard enough his brain feels like it bruises against the inside of his skull.

“Sch– Schlatt. Schlatt.” Quackity’s hyperventilating, voice quiet, blood dribbling down from his nostrils over his lips and staining his teeth pink. He can taste it on his tongue, hot salt and copper, feel it dribble thickly down the back of his throat. “Schlatt. Please. You’re hurting me.”

“Do I look like I give a shit?”

Another shake. Quackity makes a high, terrified, hitching noise. His bloodied head lolls on his shoulders.

“Do I?! Answer me, you stupid little bitch!”

“N– no, Schlatt– no–”

“Good. Because I fucking don’t.”

Schlatt pauses, something odd passing over his face. He raises the hand not around Quackity’s collar to stroke from one corner of Quackity’s lower lip to the other, smearing blood across it like lipstick, obscene, copper-salt bitter.

Quackity’s chest is heaving like there’s not enough air in the room.

“Listen real fucking close now, sweetheart,” says Schlatt, eventually, and sticks his thumb in his mouth. Quackity watches as sucks the blood off of it, absent, thoughtless. “Because I’m only gonna ask this once. Are you with me, or not?”

Not trusting his voice, Quackity nods, jerky, frantic. There is no other answer here. Even he, stupid little bitch that he is, knows that much.

“Good.” Schlatt sets him back on his feet. His knees nearly buckle, breath leaving him in a wheeze as he locks them in a desperate attempt to stay standing. Schlatt does not try to help steady him. “Good boy. That’s what I like to fucking hear

Quackity’s nose drips blood onto the marble floor of the White House in hot, wet spatters. His head rings, his cheek aches. He can’t get breathe properly. He can’t breathe.

It’s only when Schlatt walks away, steps into his bedroom and slams the door behind him, that he manages to drag in an unsteady inhale. When he brings a hand up to cover his mouth and nose, gasping, and is surprised to find tears mixed in with the blood that puddles in his palm.

He thinks, for the first time, that he might be in over his head.

hello!! once in a blue moon post to say i posted some tommy angst!! there is nothing in here except tommy angst. that’s literally all it is. enjoy!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33366490

jail of my very own creation - limitlist - Video Blogging RPF [Archive of Our Own]

becoming human. | c!dream. [ii]

summary. android trafficking has been a huge issue in detroit ever since anti-android ownership laws have been passed. so it’s a little ironic how one was ordered to help you solve this case, isn’t it?

pairing. y/n x c!dream (platonic)

genre. dbh!au, c!dsmp, future!au

word count.4k

[four part series]

part I   |   part II   |   part III   |   part iv 

warnings.swearing,fem!reader, gun, driving under the influence, robbery, i think that’s it…

yes, i am discontinuing this… just felt like posting what i’m satisfied with putting up before calling it quits lolz,,,  i’m not very active in the dsmp/mcyt fandom rn so the inspiration is gone really! sorry for those who were following this <3

|—————|

THE DRIVE TO Sapnap’s place is awfully silent. It’s suffocating you how much you want to ask the android sitting beside you a bombardment of questions but you knew if you got started, the conversation would last all night long. 

As it is just after rush hour, the drive to Sapnap’s is full of traffic but the sky is getting darker slowly but surely. The city lights were now starting to turn on, shining on the reflection of passing window panes and battling with the sunset for your attention. 

Clay’s fixated gaze on the road allows you to study him further. He’s quite different from the only other RK you’ve seen with your own eyes last year. 

His name was Connor and you had talked to him a total of zero times so you had nothing to base the kid off of. He certainly looks different to the older model, with sharp green eyes that remind you of young evergreen. Lighter hair as well, almost the color of coffee. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose, lips set in a blank line. 

He seems so soft— more kind-looking— than Connor in terms of appearance but surely that wasn’t the only reason they made a whole new model of RK? He seemed more like a next-door neighbor rather than an assistant detective? The other RKs that were equipped for your comrades were all 900s… 

As you roam his profile once more, the glaring blue light at his right temple disturbs you. It reminds you of Clay’s complacency. Then it hits what they must have wanted to improve in his model— absolute loyalty. A nonexistent chance at deviancy from him. Perhaps that’s why they made him look much kinder as well… so that his looks fly under the radar. 

It feels like a hand is wrapped around your throat because your vocals tighten. You try to clear it out but it just sounds strained. 

It grabs Clay’s attention, his head turning quickly to scan you for any discrepancies. Shaking your head a little, you face ahead once more, eyes zeroing in on the streets. 

“My friend, Sapnap. He’s an android mechanic engineer— has been taking care of androids for a while now. I think you’ll like him.” 

You glance over to Clay, his blue light turning and flashing slowly. “Yes, age 20, male, Caucasian. Dropped out of college start of sophomore year to pursue—” 

“Repairing androids, yes. He had a little benefit to do so when his father had already been teaching him the ropes.” 

Clay notices the way you’re quick to defend and you get embarrassed. 

“Just saying.” 

Clay tucks his lips in and nods. “He seems like a good man.” 

“He is. Will probably get quite mad at me for showing up right now but it’ll be fine.” 

Clay’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Will my presence there bother him?” 

“No, no. You won’t be a bother, trust me. You’re fine, the dude owes me a favor anyway so you’re alright.” You rush to explain. 

Taking the android’s silence as understanding, you relax a little. His mouth opens once more just when you think the conversation is over. 

“Could I ask you something, Sergeant?” 

“Y/N is fine, Clay.” 

“Yes, I apologize.” Clay blinks, continuing on. “Could you explain how progress is going with your current investigation? I’ve read that your last case was eight days ago but the report is quite vague.” 

“Well, uh— yeah I can. Tomorrow, though. I’m a little tired but I’ll fill you in on everything. The port at your desk will have all you need available as well.”

Clay’s eyes blink away at you again. “I know. I have it all in my mind palace already.” 

“I— what? Already?”

“It was one of my upgrades. I was given access immediately after being activated.” Clay informs you and you nod slowly. 

“Right.” You breathe out. 

Sometimes it boggles you that androids can simply store and download information like that in their head. Nothing is ever forgotten. Oh, how easy life would be if you could do that for your job. 

“Perhaps I could get a head start before the workday tomorrow? As you rest at your abode, of course.” Clay gives an easy-going smile. You wish he wasn’t so programmed to be all about work. 

You bite your lip, thinking of another alternative. “How about you learn about the Android Revolution, Clay? You’ll get an idea of why some people are looking into android trafficking in the first place.” 

Clay nods reluctantly. “That sounds like a good idea, Ser— I apologize. Y/N. Thank you.” 

A wry smile plants itself on your lips. “Of course.” 

You pull the car into Sapnap’s driveway. Your headlights must have alerted your friend of a visit since as you both step out of the car, he’s waiting with his front door open. 

Sapnap wipes his hands, which are covered in thirium, onto his black overalls. Clay trails behind you at a respectable distance, his hands crossed together in front of him. 

“Whyare you always bringing them to me?” Sap sighs. You grin, side-hugging him. Clay watches the interaction closely, almost studying you two. 

“Because you’re the front person I think of. You know how full the—”

“Support centers are right now, yada yada,” Sapnap extends a hand towards Clay, leaning towards him, “Name’s Sapnap. And you’re—?” 

“Clay, sir. Nice to meet you.” Clay shakes your friend’s hand gingerly, inclining his head. 

Sap’s eyebrows scrunch, looking over to you. A shrug is how you answer Sapnap’s silent question. 

“You don’t have to call me sir, dude. If anything, they probably designed you to look or be older than me.” Sapnap squints, looking the android up and down. 

Clay nods in understanding. 

“Can I ask what your model is? If you don’t mind, of course.” The darker-haired male of the two inquires. 

“I’m a RK1000.” 

Sap’s eyes widen. “Ah, you’re a prototype! I never knew Cyberlife was ever working on you.” 

“Cyberlife has worked on my model for a long time.” 

Nudging at your friend, Sapnap inches into his house. 

“Oh, sorry! Yeah, come in.” 

Side-stepping past, the warm hallway sends a good shiver down your spine. As per usual, the living room is messy, a bunch of random parts and tools laid on every surface. 

“How would you feel about me hiring a maid for you, Sap?” 

He chuckles, shoving you into the couch sideways. You glare up at him in mock annoyance. “I can get one if I really wanted to, asshole,” Sapnap begins to clean up a little anyway, “Everything is where it needs to be.” 

Humming, you’re unconvinced as you move a whole arm off the seat you were pushed onto. Clay stands awkwardly to the side before you pat beside you. He looks for Sapnap’s approval which the latter grants, belatedly confused.

As your friend enters the kitchen to get you a drink, you side-eye the stiffness in which the android beside you sits. 

“If you’re really uncomfortable with my friend, we can… find someplace else.” You whisper earnestly, which Clay vehemently shakes his head. 

“I’m not uncomfortable, Y/N. Just adjusting to my surroundings. I don’t want to be more of a bother.” 

You scold him lightly. “You’re not a bother, Clay. I don’t mind finding another—”

Clay places a light pressure on the top of your right hand laid in your thigh. It’s meant to be reassuring; perhaps calm your heart but it races your heartbeat higher. You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s his fake heat signature that scares you into believing he’s so life-like— human, of course. 

Androids were a new race… they wereliving. Even if they didn’t breathe and have a heartbeat like you. 

“I trust him, Y/N. No need to worry.” 

Your face twists. “How do you trust him already?” 

Clay spreads the corners of his lips into his cheeks. “Trust is not the right word, I suppose. I know a possible threat when I see one.” 

His words send another shiver down your body, and this time it’s not because of the temperature change. How eerie. You wonder how strong the prototype android is. 

Sapnap enters the living room once more, a bottle of ice-cold beer in his hand. 

You begin to protest but still accept the offer. “I can’t drink this, Sap. I’m driving.” 

“It’s one bottle, relax.” Sapnap drags out, collapsing beside you. He uses the tip of his pointer finger to raise the bottle’s lip to your mouth. 

Shaking your head, you take a small sip and nothing more, placing it on the particularly cluttered coffee table before you. 

“I can’t, I can’t. Thanks though.” 

Leaning your elbows on your knees, you watch Sapnap chug a good half of his own dripping beer easily. He sees the jealousy in your eyes, smirking. 

“Is it because of Mr. Detective, over here? Or are you still on the job? 

You look over to see Clay’s expression, feather-light. “Well, I’m technically always on the job first of all. And I’m not trying to get wasted right about now. I still have mad shit to do.” 

“Do it here.” Sapnap slaps the hand against the cushion behind you. 

Rolling your eyes, you heave as you get up. “No thanks. I got to go.” 

“Afraid you’ll give in to my temptations?” Sapnap waves his bottle playfully. 

Smiling, you yank it out of his hands, proving his point just for the hell of it. Sap’s protest dies on his tongue as you chug the rest of his bottle.

“Damn.” Sapnap whistles as you wipe at your lip. 

Raising an eyebrow, enjoying the burn down your throat, you return the empty glass to your friend. “Happy?” 

“I guess so.” Sap lightly chuckles, looking over to Clay, whose eyes are lasered in on you. You follow your friend’s eyeline. 

Placing a hand on Clay’s shoulder, you squeeze in reassurance. “I’ll be here at 5 tomorrow?” 

“Yes, I’ll be ready.” 

You smile and wave to both of them before swinging the front door back open. 

“Don’t be too harsh on him, yeah?” You direct towards Sapnap. Clay tilts his head like a dog, blue light turning. 

Sapnap waves his hand. “Eh, I’ll try.” 

A chuckle leaves your lips as you leave and head towards your car. Your friend could be a bit intrusive sometimes. Since Clay is a very unknown android model, you have no doubt he’ll have a blast battering Clay down with questions for a while.

|—————|

Just like how you had told Clay you’d be at Sapnap’s at 5 A.M., you came back to the house 5 minutes early the next morning. Not to your surprise, Clay was already standing outside, stock still with his eyes closed on the porch. 

You’re tempted to honk but know it’ll wake the whole neighborhood and Sapnap. That wouldn’t be a pretty sight— cranky Sap glaring deadly your way from his window. 

Settling for rolling down the window instead, you call for the android’s attention. 

Clay is quick to open his eyes, his lips quirked up. “Good morning, Y/N!” 

“Good morning! Last night was fine I hope?” 

“Just fine. I was more than happy to let Sapnap ask me questions.” Clay reassures, climbing into the passenger seat. 

You scoff, shifting gears and reversing. “I have no doubt about that. You got some rest though? I mean, as much rest as you could get as an android?” 

Clay meets your side-eye and smiles wider. “Yes, I got plenty. Thank you.” 

Humming, you drum your fingers against the steering wheel. You let the music on the radio fill the small bit of quiet in the waking sun but Clay doesn’t let it last for long. 

“The debriefing?” He questions and you sit up straighter. 

Nodding, you began, “Yeah, sure. Straight into work I see. So, as you know, the rates for missing androids have been skyrocketing. With so many androids still unregistered and homeless, many fall back with their owners or— what I’m currently tasked on— being stolen off the streets. The case from eight days ago was actually a good lead I got on this illegal trade in Detroit. The old seller of androids, who I’m sure you know the name of, got on our radar after losing his job and has been dealing underground. A good citizen caught him beating a poor android down in plain sight and intervened. We’ve placed a watch on him and are waiting for the reel to come in.” 

Clay nods slowly. “I’m assuming you’ll attain him when you find the seller? This… Steven Bartley?” 

“Well, yes. I’m also looking into infiltrating the trade and finding out who’s running the whole shebang; bring it down from the inside I suppose. I’ve been getting tip-offs like these for a few months and none go anywhere much. I have a good feeling about this dude though— he’s known to not have much of a backbone and might take the opportunity to get down on his years in jail.” 

“That sounds like a smart idea, Sergeant. I’ll be sure to update you real-time if a tip-off for Bartley comes in.” 

“Thank you,” You say genuinely, “I appreciate that.” 

Clay inclines his head, looking back forward again. 

Maybe having an assistant wasn’t that bad. You just wish that Clay was deviant. Was aware of himself and his freedom; his choice. 

Clearing your throat, you figure now is a good time to get this conversation over with. “Clay.” 

He turns your way, his undivided attention on you. It unsettles you slightly. 

“I’m sure you have… extensive knowledge on the Android Revolution.” 

It takes Clay three full seconds to respond. 

“Yes. It sounds like it was a riveting point in history, what happened in Detroit. I was still being tinkered on when the final confrontation occurred.” 

“And… how does it— make you feel?” 

Clay takes a deep breath, eyelashes fluttering as his light turns round and round. “I think… that it’s unfortunate. What happened at the end of it all.” 

The android’s strange phrasing has your head reeling. “And what do you mean by that?” 

“Well, Marcus is a very intelligent machine for his kind. Much more intelligent than usual. And I find it upsetting that the entire revolution shut down so many androids.” 

“Shut down? Not killed? Is that how you think of it?” 

Clay makes his gaze turn your way again, resolute in his opinion now. “Yes, shut down. It seems like a waste, having all those perfectly capable AIs become misled.” 

Your hands clutch the wheel tighter, bewildered by the words coming out of Clay’s mouth. He was an android himself and was speaking of his own kind this way. 

“Mislead…” You whisper out, letting the word linger between you two. 

“Do you not agree, Y/N?” 

Whipping your head to assess Clay’s expression, you reason it’s all genuine confusion— open-mindedness, one could say. 

Breathlessly chuckling, you vehemently shake your head. “I-I… No, I don’t agree with you Clay.” 

The android beside you is silent, inviting you to continue and you do. 

“Clay, they had… muchreason to start fighting back. Thousandsof cases of mistreatment were being reported everywhere but nothing was done about it. Don’t you find it strange, how truly livingyour kind is? How you all possess human emotions, fears, and behaviors?” 

“We weren’t created for the purpose of becoming living, Y/N. Although yes— warranted, androids were being mistreated—humans had invented us for the purpose of invention. Of invention to aid human society.” 

“And what do we do with the fact we’ve also designed you all to be so human-like then?” 

Clay takes a second to register your question. “Humans like to see similar beings— naturally like to be looking in mirrors.” 

“We actually don’tlike doing that— at least not in the way you’re suggesting. When fellow people imitate our actions; try to transform into another version of us, we become angry. We are all the most importantthings in our lives. Why design our machines to integrate into our society, then treat them like trash when they begin to act, no— mirrorthe way we do as living beings?” 

The android becomes quiet, taking in your point. At least, you think so until Clay’s light becomes a flashing red, sharply blinking.

“Clay?” You concerningly ask, wanting to know what was going on with him. 

“There’s a robbery on Park Avenue, Sergeant. Shall we assist?” There’s that irritatinghead tilt again. 

It just proved your point further really. Why did Cyberlife add such human-like tendencies, if not for the purpose of them passing the Turing Test? 

Just when Clay begins to wait for your answer, the police radio is brought to life. “Reporting a 1200 on 538 Park Ave. Sergeant, are you available?” 

You report back quickly, flicking your lights and sound on, “Yep, 10-3.”

“We have a male suspect, Caucasian, around 6’2. Wearing a green hoodie, potential 5201. He’s trapped in the bank, only two civilians in direct danger.” 

“Streets blocked off?” 

“Yes, ma’am. Getting worked on right now. We got multiple cops on sight. Need more authority and you’re the closest, Sergeant.” 

“Status on civilians?” 

“Trapped in the bank, ma’am.” 

“Put negotiations on speed-dial for me please.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Turning sharply on Park Ave, you pass through the boys setting up blocks, about half-way done. Not used to having a partner, you put Clay on the back-burner, hopping out to access the situation. 

The corner bank was surrounded, almost all eyes and hand guns directed on the windows and doors. The building was shabby; it’s not that much of a surprise someone tried this bank. It wasn’t exactly in the best neighborhood in Detroit. 

Catching a head of fluffy brown hair in your peripheral, you turn to see it, lips automatically quirking up. 

Skipping over, you slap a hand to George’s shoulder, who whips around to look at you instantly. 

“New report, Corporal?” 

The older coworker, although seemingly younger in looks, rolls his dark eyes. “None. Dude is panicking. We got no eyes, the cams and security are outdated.” 

“No security was in?” 

George puffs his cheeks, looking down at a blueprint of the bank that was on a tablet. “Nope.” 

“Update on weapons?” 

“None.” 

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair. 

“How’d the talk go?” 

George can’t help the sarcastic smile that slips on at your question. “I don’t know, Sergeant, you tell me.” 

A little laugh falls from your lips, even though it was not the best situation for you to do it. “You’re right. No wonder they fucking called me in here. You’re shit.” 

Dodging your friend’s elbow smoothly, you wave for a megaphone and it’s placed in your hands in ten seconds. 

“Have a name for this guy yet?” 

George cocks his head to a police officer in the corner, who straightens up. “What is it again?” 

The officer chirps, “His name is Sam, Sergeant.” 

“Demands?” 

“Just a getaway car, ma’am.” 

You place your mouth to the voice amplifier. “Sam? This is Sergeant Y/N L/N of the Detroit Police Department. Are you willing to make a deal with me, Sam?” 

A moment passes by and it’s dead silent. Boots clack on cement and George watches Clay approach from your car, bewildered at your new partner. 

“Who are you?” George whispers. 

“My name is Clay, sir. I am an android sent by Police Commander Perez to aid Sergeant Y/N here.” 

“…Huh.” 

You start up again. “Sam? Let’s start cooperating now. It’s only gonna be worse from here if you don’t.” 

More silence. 

“Can we get a sign that those two innocent people are alive, Sam? Can we get that, please?” 

You’re about to speak up again but get interrupted by a booming voice, pretty loud considering you’re the one with a megaphone. 

“I want the damn car! That’s all I fucking want!” 

Giving a tired look to George, you shake your head. “Let’s compromise first, yeah? Can I see those two civilians first? Give me just that and I’ll get working on that car for you, Sam.” 

“I don’t wanna hurtthem, alright? I just want out of here!” 

“Alright Sam. I got it. Those two people please?” 

You didn’t expect the blinds of the bank to be opened so fast. It’s revealed, a cowering of two bank accountants on the carpet floor, for about a second before they’re yanked shut again. 

“You see where the string was from? I think—”

George shakes his head, brows furrowed. “The right of the window I believe. Could have been the left though—”

“It’s the right wall, Sergeant. There looks to be no major body heat signature though. He’s pressed against the wall to the right of the window. There seems to be a gun pointed towards the civilians.” 

Your mouth drops a little, completely forgetting you had an entire very advanced prototype android beside you. 

George is obviously dying to scold your machine partner for withholding his usefulness until now but instead, confirms the weapon report to headquarters. 

“You’re meaning to say Sam is an android? They’re in the record as a human—”

Clay corrects George so calmly, you can tell it irks him. “Yes, he must have outdone the system, Corporal.”

“So what? They’re alive! I’ve shownyou them! Give me my fuckingcar, I want out of here!” Sam screams, voice straining the effort. 

“Alright, Sam. I want you to reason with me here. Where are you going to go from here?” 

“I don’t fucking care, I want out!Out!” 

“If you hand yourself in now, Sam, the judge will consider that. Everything will be considered. They’ll look at your cooperation and your willingness to let go of those hostages, Sam. You can cut down on your—”

Clay grabs your forearm tightly, shouting suddenly, “DOWN!” 

A gunshot rings out, going straight through the weak plaster wall of the bank. It sinks into one of the police car’s tires, the car slowly leaning on that one side. 

“Shit…” You swear, slightly lowering the gun you had instinctively pulled out your holster. 

“Call in a negotiator please.” You mumble to George, not wanting to risk anything worse happening.

He nods, pressing on the radio attached to his right shoulder when Clay bumps in, halting George’s movements. 

“No need, Sergeant. I’m a certified crisis negotiator. I can do it.” 

Clay stares right into your eyes, hoping to get your approval. You only hesitate for a few seconds, giving in quite easily. 

Handing over your megaphone gingerly, you wave for Clay to take your place. When George throws up his shoulders in confusion, you give him a strange look.

“Sam, my name is Clay. I’m an android working with the Detroit Police Department. Are you alright in there, Sam?” 

“W-What… what?” The robber calls from the bank, confused, “You’re an android?” 

when the night cries - Chapter 2 - definitelynotshouting - Minecraft (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 2 of when the night cries, my time-traveling phantommy fic, is out!!! Go take a look!!!

when the night cries - Chapter 1 - definitelynotshouting - Minecraft (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

haunt

verb

gerund or present participle: haunting

(of a ghost) manifest itself at (a place) regularly.

“a ghost who haunts the farmhouse”

(of a person or animal) frequent (a place).

“he haunts the barn”

be persistently in the mind of (someone).

“the sight has haunted me for years”

be persistently and disturbingly present in (something).

“I am haunted by his shadow”

What is the definition of a haunting?

It begins like this: between one day and the next, an intruder appears in their house. It begins like this: their home, between rolling hills and poppies, is now haunted.

——

Come check out chapter one of my time traveling ghost fic!! Right now it’s soft, but heed those tags!

Wow i havent updated here in forever but haha check it out new fic snippets, im calling this one the haunted house fic as a working title. Its about 5k right now and going strong!!

–

“You ever feel really watched, Phil?” Wilbur asks, eyes swinging around to bore into Phil’s. They’re shadowed. Haunted. “Like. Really watched. Like someone who knows every inch of you, all your deepest secrets, is just staring? Because–” and finally his voice begins to shake– “I felt like that, and then I swear I heard my name, and it sounded like– like–”

“Whoa, whoa, okay,” Phil says, jerking forward, hands outstretched. Wilbur falls into his arms with a shaky, choked breath; not quite a sob, but close enough that Phil’s heart jackrabbits in his chest. “Wil, Wilbur, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

harbingerofheartbreak:

if i put out a sort of canon not really at all dream smp fic (ik what ur going to say booo dsmp) would u guys be interested at all? listen hear me out!!

there’s a bit of it below btw

it’s a c!wilbur / reader where reader is in relations to c!dream (havent decided if ex lover or sister) and is hidden away because something happened between them and he’s been looking for her and she’s in danger and c!wilbur brings her to lmanburg for safety. it would be rated mature only bc i’m a glutton for heavy makeout scenes, sex jokes and overall sexual actions no actual nsfw though

Keep reading

reblogging 2 ask again bc i have like the first three chapters ready for heavy editing and post (also looking for a dsmp proofreader dms r open :D) 

heres another lil snippet 

“i’m not sure why i agreed to help you.” he started.

“that’s great to know.” she scoffed, looking at him. 

“can i finish?” his voice sounded tired and florence felt guilty for lashing out. “i don’t know why i agreed to help you. karl showed me your picture and i- i just felt like i had to. im sorry if the way we’re living isn’t up to standards. but all i’m asking is you give my boys a break. especially tommy and tubbo.” he looked, sorry, almost, staring at her with his saddened eyes. 

“hate on me all you want. you can kick me, scratch me, shank me in my sleep, just pleas- please give them a break. they’re trying. we all are.” he finished with a sigh his head dropping into his hands. 

he looked pretty like this, all emotionally ruined- and florence felt bad for thinking it. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t be a bitch.” she knelt down in front of him and he picked his head up slightly to look at her. “you did nothing but save my life. and i want to say thank you.” 

“you don’t need to. i was asked to by a friend. and friends don’t turn their backs on one another in their time of need.” wilbur blinked back his tears, but florence saw. 

florence placed a hand on his cheek, and gave him a smile. she felt the weight of his harassing get heavier as he leaned into her touch and he let his eye close. “if this were different, i’m sure i would’ve fallen in love with you.” 

“why not now?” he opened his eyes. “i mean, the cabin is pretty empty right now-“ he started with a chuckle and florence moved her hand away from his cheek and gave him a glare. 

“because if you hadn’t realized, i’m a fucking fugitive. he won’t stop until i’m dead or so broken that i’m compliant with his every word.” she scoffed. “i don’t want to be someone’s silent accessory. i’m more than that!” she threw her hands in the air. 

“you are more than that. you deserve to be someone’s equal.” the words gave florence butterflies and she was sure her cheeks were a bright red. “dream won’t find you. and if he does, he’ll have to kill me before he touches you, you hear me?” he waited for her confirmation, and once she’d nodded he continued. “and once he’s gone, you’re free. to fall in love. with me, by the way.”

if i put out a sort of canon not really at all dream smp fic (ik what ur going to say booo dsmp) would u guys be interested at all? listen hear me out!!

there’s a bit of it below btw

it’s a c!wilbur / reader where reader is in relations to c!dream (havent decided if ex lover or sister) and is hidden away because something happened between them and he’s been looking for her and she’s in danger and c!wilbur brings her to lmanburg for safety. it would be rated mature only bc i’m a glutton for heavy makeout scenes, sex jokes and overall sexual actions no actual nsfw though

“oh you’re good at this.” she smiled, trailing her finger down the table in front of her before dropping her hand at her side.

“at what, darling?” wilbur swished his glass around, a glint in his eyes as he watched her prepare another drink for him, noticing his glass was emptying.

“this whole.. act you’ve got going on. tall, charming, *handsome*,” she emphasized the last word with a smirk that sent wilbur squirming in his seat- “man walks into my bar, of all places! pretending he’s not the leader of the biggest revolution esempi has seen ever. same revolution he was just talking about! and pretends to be a naive little devil to get me in bed with him. or for information. am i right? or am i wrong, and just a stupid little girl?” she was in his face now and wilbur took a gulp, lust flashing in his eyes.

“you’re not just a stupid little girl.” he licked his lips as she leaned back on the wall behind her, her chest leaning out. “you’ve got a nice body. makes you a stupid woman.” he laughed, placing the finished glass down, and pouring some from the new glass into his own before sliding it towards her.

“drink with me darling, won’t you?” he sipped, before looking at the girl who had a saddened look on her face.

please please please lmk if u would be interested i have so much of it done already i just want to know if it’s something i should post.

love, love <3