Discover Top Posts Tagged with #reuben rolls

*Oh! Uh, hello! I'm Pippins number....

*Uh.... number....

*Oh, whatever, I guess you can call me Reuben.

*I'm nothing special, but if you need something done, just ask! I'll do it to the best of my ability!

#reuben rolls #roll for reuben #reuben rerolls #beyond reubens screen #the pink tie

(*Reuben is at home. It'd been a while since he'd been in his apartment. The place is a mess.)

(*All he can think about is the studio. All he can think about is Tenna scrambling to clean up. All he can think about is that singular conversation with Jevil.)

(*All he can think about is how truly and utterly fucked up the two of them are.)

(*He stares out the window in his living room and sighs, his fingertips brushing the edge of his pink tie.)

*I hope they'll be okay...

(*They won't be. But he doesn't know that.)

(*Reuben turns his attention back to cleaning his apartment, but his boss and the jester linger in the back of his mind like a festering wound.)

#reuben rolls #the big boss #the boss's jester #[sniles sneetly]#[hi jevil and tenna]#[you cannot escape]#[you are doomed and there is no hope]

*...oh.

*That's.

*Hm.

(*Reuben is now aware of what he missed out on while on break by overhearing coworkers talking about it! He retreats back to his own job, trying not to think about it too hard. He mutters under his breath as he walks.)

*This is why I don't take breaks...

(*Seems he needs a good distraction.)

#reuben rolls #[probably wont answer anymore asks tonight but if you send them ill queue them for tomorrow morning]#[just wanted to get this outta the way since reuben is officially back on the clock and all]

(*Reuben tugs at the sleeves on the t-shirt he's wearing. It's dark green, a direct contrast to the color he usually wears. He's also wearing jeans, something he basically never wears. He glances down at his feet, at the work shoes that he has to wear because his only pair of sneakers are ruined.)

*It's just for a day, Reuben. Just one day, and then you'll be back to your uniform and you'll never have to wear this again.

(*He mentally repeats that multiple times as he puts his keys and phone into his pocket. His hand ghosts over his arm again, fingertips catching on the scattered patches of fuzz.)

(*He'd never gone out in public with his arms exposed before. A few weeks ago, he wouldn't have worried about it. No one would notice or ask questions if they saw him like this, assuming they even saw him. No one would care. He was invisible to everyone, a nobody, forgettable.)

(*But he has friends now. People who think about him without him having to remind them that he exists. What if other people notice him now? What if he gets stopped by a stranger and asked about his arms? How would he explain something that he's had for as long as he could remember?)

(*He takes a deep breath, trying to quell these newfound fears. There's nothing to worry about. Nothing. He's fine. He's going shopping for new clothes and then he's coming home, and tomorrow he goes back to work. That's all.)

(*He takes another deep breath, tugs at his sleeves one more time, and finally leaves.)

#reuben rolls #cyber city trip arc

(*Reuben finds himself standing in front of his bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection. He has a simple white t-shirt and a new pair of grey sweatpants on. Unlike earlier when he left for Kitchen County, seeing his reflection doesn't bring him comfort.)

(*Instead, his thoughts are drifting to the corners of his mind, corners he'd always assumed were empty.)

(*Except they aren't. Distorted sights, blurry faces and muffled voices press against the edges of his consciousness, as if trapped behind some inexplicable barrier. As if he's not supposed to know they're there.)

*Did we invite you, fuzzball? No? Then scram!

(*He reels back from the counter, one hand bracing him against the wall. Fuzzball? For some reason, he felt as though that was directed at him, but... why? He wasn't...)

(*His gaze is drawn to his arm. He'd always had weird little patches of fuzz there, interspersed and broken up. He used to pick at them when he had a hard time sleeping. He'd eventually dropped the bad habit, deciding that it probably wasn't healthy.)

(*He rubs his arm, the fuzz smooth against his fingertips. He wants to protest. ███ ████ █████████ had chosen him for a reason, had saved him for a reason. So why didn't they like him?)

(*He frowns. What is happening? Why is this happening? Are these memories? What is he even remembering?)

*Are you deaf, darling? He said fuck off.

(*Reuben flinches, a wave of despair overtaking him. But why? What's going on? He doesn't recognize any of the voices that keep flashing though his mind, and yet...)

(*Before he can think on it any further, it's as if a solid wall slams down between his thoughts and those voices. In a blink, he's left with nothing but his own jumbled thoughts. The echoes left behind by the voices fade until there's nothing left but his conflicted emotions.)

(*He stares at his face in his reflection, frowning.)

*You're just tired. You'll be fine in the morning.

(*He almost believes his own words as he leaves the bathroom, turning off the light.)

#reuben rolls #the pink tie #[hm. wonder what this could mean.]#[:)]

(*The front door of the apartment slams open, and Reuben stumbles through. His clothes, mostly dry but still sticky, are disheveled and stained. His hoodie and undershirt are most likely trash, his shoes are too, his pants are maybe salvagable because of how dark they are, and his tie-)

(*He barely has enough mind to shut the door behind him before he's pulling at the hoodie, his claws unintentionally ripping holes into it in the process. Then, with a sudden reverence, starkly contrasting the frantic movements less than a moment before, he gently unties his tie so he can get a good look at it.)

(*He feels as if his whole world is slipping away beneath his feet.)

(*It's hardly pink anymore. A few lucky spots are untouched where they'd been tucked under several layers and hidden on the back of his neck, but the rest tie is... ruined.)

(*His pink tie.)

(*Ruined.)

(*He can feel black, inky darkness crowding the edges of his vison more than he really sees it. He doesn't realize he's gasping for breath until his legs give out beneath him. He just stares at his pink tie, now a dark purple-y red color.)

(*He doesn't feel the tears stinging his eyes and streaming down his cheeks. He doesn't notice the full body tremors that overtake him or the splitting headache that protests as he staggers back to his feet and scrambles to turn on some cold water in the sink in the kitchen.)

(*He doesn't register the utterly pathetic whimpers that escape his lips as he whispers "please" over and over again, dunking his ruined tie in the water and squeezing it tight between his fingers.)

(*This can't be happening. Why did he ever think it was a good idea to leave work like that? Why did he ever think it would be a good idea to go alone to someplace he's never been? To wander around without asking for directions?)

(*He's suddenly aware of the fact that he's on the floor. He doesn't remember getting there. The water is still running, his arms are soaked and cold and dripping onto the floor. His cheek is pressed against the cabinet door under the sink, his breath coming in gasps.)

(*He doesn't realize that he's not holding his tie anymore. He doesn't notice the water beginning to overflow out of the sink, red and sticky and cold.)

(*Red and sticky and cold, soaking into his clothes.)

(*A terrifying peal of laughter rings out in his mind.)

(*He jolts upright, terror and pain wiping away the panic for a moment. But he's at home, not there. And the water is still running.)

*Shit-

(*He clamps a hand over his mouth at the word he uttered without thinking, then scrambles to turn off the water. He stares down into the murky water, seeing his tie wedged into the drain. With a panicked, startlingly fast movement, he grabs it and backs away from the sink.)

(*It's better. It's only faintly stained now, not starkly different. It's progress. It's better.)

(*The panic squeezing Reuben's heart subsides a little.)

(*Maybe he should try again.)

*Later...

(*Later. Yeah. His head is pounding, his breathing is still too fast, his hands are shaking, and if he doesn't sit down right now, he might collapse.)

(*He can't right now.)

(*With heavy, unsteady steps, he stumbles towards his couch. His hand tightens around his still-soaked tie, dripping red-tinted water down his arm and onto the floor.)

(*He barely has enough sense left to kick off his shoes before he collapses, ruined clothes and all, onto his couch.)

(*The last thought he has before the blackness in his vision consumes him is that he's going to need to replace the couch later.)

#reuben rolls #tw panic attack #tw panic #tw panicking #tw trauma #tw ptsd #[rip my boy]#[hes gonna be allergic to taking vacations now /j]#[*writes some of the best writing ive done in a while and ruins it with mod tags* /silly]

(*Reuben gets a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach despite the happy, cheerful place he's in. He can't help but feel as though something horrible and irreparable has happened. He puts on a brighter, slightly strained smile and chooses to enjoy his time in Kitchen County.)

(*Whatever happened can wait. He can clean up whatever mess waits for him when he gets back.)

(*But he still feels sick to his stomach if he thinks too hard.)

#reuben rolls #the pink tie #[fly high ask-tenna]#[reuben is now without a job technically lmao]#[oh well. we all knew it was coming eventually if im being honest]#tw nausea

(*Reuben's hand hovers over his poncho where it hangs in his closet. He's preparing to head out, too antsy to spend anymore time in his apartment.)

(*He rubs the edge of his pink tie, thinking.)

*You're not on the clock, Reuben. You don't have to wear your uniform.

(*After another moment of deliberation, he shifts his hand to a hoodie that was partially hidden in the back of the closet.)

(*Looking a little different wouldn't hurt when he wasn't working today.)

(*He puts the old red hoodie on and straightens his pink tie, and then he turns to look at himself in the reflection of his bathroom mirror. After a moment of looking, he takes his gloves off and looks again. And for the first time in a while, he likes the Darkner that looks back.)

(*Reuben smiles, grabs his keys, and leaves, humming a happy little tune under his breath as he does so, an unusual pep to his step.)

#reuben rolls #[hehe i love my silly die]#[he gets to be happy during his break ive decided]#[everyone else is suffering and reuben is just happy]#[that sounds about right /silly]