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deviationdivine · 5 years ago

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Wake Up | domestic!Android AU Part 1 (Connor x Reader)

gif by arsuf

F!reader x Connor

13.6k words

Detroit: Become Human - 1 Year Anniversary Release Celebration

A revolution may divide the city but it will never divide you...

tw: Angst, Fluffy Connor in the midst, Language, Suggestive Themes, Violence

a/n: First part of mini-series AU “Wake Up”. An introductory chapter one. Apologies for how long this took but I struggled and I am not happy with the end result. However, it’s finally here. • Connor is the latest high tech domestic model built with a collection of extra features, skills and functions making him the most advanced of his kind. As your personal assistant he is equipped with becoming the perfect partner if you so require. Falling in love with your personal android was never part of the equation nor was his break into deviancy...

“My name is Connor. I am your personal assistant. My features will allow me to take extensive care of your home, do the cooking, mind children and repair any problematic issues that arise within the household’s utilities.

As I am the most advanced make I can perform various tasks including but not limited to acts of a sexual nature. If you so require I am capable of being the perfect partner…”

Perfect is a conceptual illusion in every sense or so you come to believe. Why do humans think in terms of excellence when most shining examples tarnish in glaring flaws? Even technology can be made wrong or needing improvement not long after distribution. Faulty wiring, danger of overheating and causing harm of a radioactive proponent all seem minuscule in comparison.

Today, in the future, there is a grander blueprint mapping out the most innovative, extreme to date.

When it becomes alive, mimics the very corporeal state of being born unto humans since man breathed life in this vast universe, mirroring visage of those who wish to create in their likeness.

How does it go from technological wonder to abstruse thinking? Concepts can be a greater weapon. They can also reach for too much too soon. Is this the true state of AI meant for consumer consumption?

Cart them off exclusively as merchandise no matter how human they look. Isn’t that their appeal? The more something foreign, inexplicable but resembles us the more it is accepted. Basic instinctual deep thinking bred into all humans. Difference is an attest beneath surface value. Judge a book by a cover but if there are features hiding its distinct nature by all means use it.

Laziness might be a better solution in this mathematical equation. Imperfect perfection makes way for future development. Those are the very elements that change the world.

Can you even imagine for one second, one little point in life it would come to change yours? So small in a world full of billions but here in Detroit home of Cyberlife and its creation the pilot sparks. Alight with technological revolution.

Androids are here. Androids are owned. Bought as slaves to humanity and used beyond measure, no consideration that those made in image could possibly develop feelings. Emotions are heavy. They are what make us all human. Can machine truly become human?

You never wanted one. Mostly it made you uncomfortable witnessing cruelty by specific ‘owners’ on the bustling city streets. It’s everywhere. Even today, chillier, more specifically a frigidity creeping into bones.

Eyes shift over a couple walking briskly as you draw coat closer together up throat. Keeping wind seeping through to tangle around your body but watching them waltz their merry way without care. Of course they have none. Their female android, an AX400 to be exact, is taking care of two rowdy children.

Honestly it must be nice. Not having to parent after deciding to add more to the burdening populace. Maybe that’s just your pessimism talking. Simple fact though? Could be that too but who knows?

Just another one of those days but it is about to change drastically. Passing a Cyberlife store does pique curiosity. Window displays my God. They line them up as if that’s all they are.

They offer whatever a human wants and yet not all can bother to treat them fairly. Is it enough androids are made to look as everyone else? Would a genuine human being treat another so despicably? Yes. A resounding yes because it never goes away. People treat people with disdain for every reason, every prejudice and why should that shock? Androids have become an additional target.

Honestly it makes you sick. Never did you once realize this is what would change things completely. On this very day, minding business walking home from another tiring bustle

More than one occurrence struck you right in the gut. A previous household model absorbs brunt of obscenities and physical humiliation. A scene like this turned your stomach.

The moment it came to intervene you received an interrupting phone call. Unfortunately this was the start of big changes in your life.

What does one do discovering death of a relative? Closeness is a fundamental of familial connections. For you? Well, let’s say it didn’t quite work out.

“What do you mean he…died?” Answering in a quiet breath, cell phone a tight clutch in hand stalling in breezy climate, everything stops around your personal orbit.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” a familiar voice speaks over your ingenious disbelief.

Ignoring your pleas for a proper answer it becomes increasingly cruel on the woman’s breath digging truths in your ear. Whether she realizes this or not it’s up for debate. “You do realize this was coming. It isn’t as if he were young and healthy. Frankly, I am surprised you are having such a negative reaction.”

Negative is exactly the type of reaction! What does she expect? “Of course I’m having a reaction!” Practically screaming into your phone made the chilled air sting worse. How is this happening? How can this even be real?

“Oh, it’s all right, Y/N. Get it out now. It’ll be better if you don’t make a scene at the funeral.”

Anger is a burning pyre ready to fan over and incinerate. One snide comment reminds how much you can’t stand this person. She’s not even blood related. An ‘aunt’ isn’t technically qualified to hold the title and that’s fine. Just another excuse to dig at you in this family but there is no family left. Your father – he’s dead.

Money fixes everything? Unlikely but still nothing surprises you more than receiving something from an estranged parent. Generous sums to a black sheep or as you’re sure greedy auntie bitch of the hour calls you behind your back. She is one woman who deserves that damn moniker. Especially when it’s clear there are no connections left. Aunt Cruella, as christened ages ago by your best friend, made short work of your uncle. Certainly bled him dry continues to do so with his left over money after he succumbed to stress in a massive heart attack. Why do people like her thrive using, snide and heartless while others –?

What can you do then? Except you fall into an overwhelming sense of losing time and never extending an olive branch. Why is the universe so cruel? Why can’t you turn back time, forget every stupid thing that ever happened to drive a rift?

Part of you couldn’t stand the idea of being alone rest of your life. Maybe that’s why using part of a small deposit felt right. Watching so many gradually fall into current technological commercialism lead to most having their own android. It seems almost a little too barbaric making them cater to every whim. Honestly, you have no idea why this is needed. Do you really need him?

No, he isn’t… He. Yes, he.

Despite manufacturing Connor is a he in every sense. Even then you saw as much. Now is much more complicated or you are just as ridiculously naive as you’ve always been told. Who cares about naivety? It is simple opinion. No. This is a belief one that surely would have left nothing to you in an event of final family member’s passing. Yet here you are with him.

You recall when he first arrives unaware of how efficient Cyberlife retail truly is. Why should you be surprised? Deliveries have gone from generic dairy of yesteryear, beyond personalized grocery orders and straight to personalized beings. Androids: alive or not alive?

In conjunction with preprogramming he sounds so lively. In his voice a natural husky dulcet and his eyes a deep soulful brown. Souls in androids are impossible but it’s the only way you think to describe warm chocolate. Hotter than a mug of it steeped in whip cream vanishes as a ghost beneath steaming liquid.

Flecks of caramel shine in hypnotic swirls enriching accents of russets in muddy hues, the very first thing captivating attention as he offers his list of functions. Even falling upon the last is difficult to decipher how caught up you are in a consummately asymmetrical visage.

He is far too pretty to look at and you try to ignore these facts. The facts of your newly purchased personal android possessing an aura of physical attractiveness. A fabrication in aesthetics you remember. A way to cover up what he actually is beneath soft synthetic skin dusted as constellations of freckles.

Tiny beauties cresting upon sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, purposely formed to elicit a reaction. This is not at all what you expected but it’s never something to forget. Little do you realize in this moment Connor will always burn brightest to memory? Little do you understand how events will unfold but they shall.

“Is there a problem?” he asks habitual to programming.

Societal protocols run a gamut through system piecing together the best course of action. It is only his first day interior of your home. He is of a sense of determination to complete whatever task you assign.

Determination is not part of proper function. However, he minded the concept. It will be efficient for current issue. “I may be able to rectify your issue. What do you require of me?”

Require? What?

You cough, inhaling sharply at his head cocking so innocently. A droop of hair flutters atop forehead as a sole rebel willing to fight immaculate armies. He is very well put together. Not that you mean the whole manufactured part! He just – looks like a really good looking guy who takes care of his appearance. Hair mostly but…

Wow, Y/N. Real nice for your first try at handling a conversation with an android.

Not that this is the first android you’ve been in contact with. Difficult not to be when they’re all over but as your very own?

OK Cyberlife! What is up with making him look like real life Prince Charming? I mean look at this perfection. Is this required? Are they allowed to do this to poor unsuspecting humans?

Watching his brows furrow and LED flutter amber somehow pumps the beats of heart faster. Surely it’s a dead giveaway. It’s not every day you’re cursing Cyberlife for practically throwing a chiseled Greek god at you.

Oh, shit, really? Greek God? What the hell is wrong with you? What isn’t wrong with you?

You sigh, clicking tongue at yourself. Frustration doesn’t begin with this!

“Your stress levels are high,” Connor offers a reading of initial scan. “Would you like me to remedy the problem? I have several possible functions that may reduce anxiety. My model comes with every physical attribute you are familiar with in human anatomy.”

A hitch stoppers breathing. Just enough as eyes widen a little at his declaration. Human anatomy as in…? Oh. OH.

Your eyes shift down. Fixating right on his crotch sends a luscious shiver through body. Goosebumps prickle skin, hair standing up on them. First time in forever you’ve had this type of reaction. Not even your ex managed to make you quiver like this. Not that your mind is even there because that’s been over for so long. Frankly that cheating asshole can have his baby momma all to himself. Probably already banged a couple more unsuspecting fools; you clear throat, scratchier than before.

“Connor, that-that’s really nice!” Agreeing with him that he has nice features you laugh nervously. It’s the first day he’s been here and already he’s mentioning his, uh, included *assets* and it’s not his beautiful eyes either. Ah, shit. Why is he made to be a young, attractive male? “But I don’t think that’s necessary. Not right now.”

It only takes a moment before you hear what came out of your mouth. Right now meaning it’ll be fine later?

“Which isn’t to say I’ll need it later!” Damage control is literally a creator of chaos. Can he just not look so sweet giving these heady ideas? “Just come with me. You’ll need a place to stay. I mean, you are staying here but I mean…” Shit! He’s made this impossible without stammering all over the place. Who gives him the right?

The android’s lips drop open, inevitably looking to provide another set of options but he snaps his mouth shut. Blinking in assessment of his actions to “argue” with your dismissal, Connor pushes away several warnings popping into visual. They are unexpected and not part of his programming.

Instead of speaking he follows your lead, gaze soft and quizzical. Trailing as a newly trained puppy the latest model of Cyberlife’s domestic line becomes further entranced with chirping outside window. No longer able to abide by strict attention he tilts his head at passing pane. Sounds of birds in song flitter and perch on external sill; one ruffles its feathers cleaning with its beak. The other stands still.

He freezes. Both in movement and system analysis he is however conscious of two live creatures. Opposite of android pets universally made available for public sale. His database offers much information outfitting him with the fundamental needs of intelligence and sophistication in his programmed function.

Reaching to open a door you stop when his presence behind you feels empty. It was obvious when he followed but now?

“Connor?”

Cycling indicator fluctuates upon the command of your voice. He snaps around in direction of soft tone. Softer than accustomed since his distribution from Cyberlife shipping to physical store location was riddled with aggressive bystanders. He-he is not meant to mull over his awakening. It does not make him feel anything. No, he is an android. He feels nothing. He is a machine.

Clinical cold manifests deeply behind blocks, barricades in protocols. Connor pushes this strange tickle back underneath wires.

“Apologies for not obeying you, Y/N. It will not happen again. I am efficient.” Nagging at him, strange and uncorrelated to system status, he almost sounds…tense. Connor straightens shoulders, folding hands neatly against lower back. “I was made to be the best of my particular type of domestic models. As an AX800, I am programmed to be a superior prototype.”

Obeying you?

That happens to be the only words you focus on. His choice of them ripple uncomfortably, nearly squeamish in stomach. Is this how you sound? Are you affecting a command or-? No, it’s what he is made to know. That’s the thing. All androids are only made to serve and immediately regret comes back. Maybe you shouldn’t have bought him.

Bought! God, you’re just like those people now. Aren’t you?

No more excuses. No more seeing horrible mistreatment and vowing never to be like them. Even if you never would do any harm losing your father, when you never spoke anymore anyway, still you fear loneliness. Estrangement ruins lives. It really does. What do you have left now? Except for yourself to fend in this world and growing more complicated as the future rambles on.

Detroit is a bustling mix of dilapidated districts, high tech innovations, Cyberlife Tower most significant in those builds. This house is small. Tucked away in a tiny neighborhood away from inner city but you never complain. You are grateful. A roof over the head is the best gift in a mostly gift devoid world.

“Connor, please don’t call it obeying. I-I only wanted to see if you were OK.” Admitting the hesitation beforehand you feel antsy. His LED is blue again but it was amber finding him staring at window.

“My system is fully operational,” he assures, forcing his lips to form a smile.

In actuality his little gesture is a stiff grimace. Eyebrows rise at his attempt. Even if it looks goofy, which is completely not his fault, it’s very – cute.

Again with this! Never mind just focus for once. Pretty comical coming from someone who hardly meditates in the day to day; you step backwards, slipping through threshold, eyes remaining on him. It takes ever ounce of willpower to remain collected. Things are still hard to digest. No matter if it’s been a couple months tangling with all of that legal stuff. Auntie not by blood sure didn’t make it any better. Yet, here you are. Still you stand even while stress is overworking at a job that might as well kill you first.

Offices are pretty dull to work in. At least they would be if they were not a regular cushy job. Piles of paperwork, demands creep up to swallow whole, a boss who just will not stop making things harsher. Mister perfectionist belittles the lower tier all the time. No surprise but it seems the future isn’t as bright as people thought it would. No need to wear shades.

Moving toward window, pulling curtains open a bit to allow sunshine transitions atmosphere from dreary to somewhat cheery. Perfect mask to hide the real truth isn’t it? Sometimes you forget how good you are that. A small smile camouflages best.

You rub hands against the thighs of your jeans. A little sweaty because of nerves but today is big. Being alone always hardly prepares for constant company. Well, he’s meant to be here permanently. That is the initial idea.

“This can be your room.”

Connor’s brow furrows. Studying your movements upon entry, analyzing vitals and their continual fluctuations, the android is confused. His indicator cycles to process the statement as unexpectedly inclusive as it is. “I do not require a room. I am an android.”

Somehow that reaction is to be expected. You sigh, “Just because you’re an android doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have something of your own.”

Ownership is not given to his kind. They are machines. Concepts of acquiring personal effects do not make sense nor are necessary. Connor voices this as per factual protocol. “Thank you for the offer but I am a machine. Machines have no need for accommodations.”

Yes, of course he’s a machine but…

Machine, manufactured and sold without an ounce of actual soul according to android haters you see. Picketing with their signs, so angry about them taking jobs but who made them? They did. Humans decided to and no one complained. Why complain about a technological marvel that can mow your grass, do the dishes and babysit children while living carelessly. That is the difference. Between you and plenty of others there has always been a divide in what you feel. This just crashes down those so-called fantasies. Ones filtering into brain as tiny wisps and at first it was a nice distraction. Finding him so…

“Oh,” a whisper, dawning realization. He is – a machine.

Coming back to the door, grabbing onto handle, you decide to forget the suggestion.

Something sharp stabs at his internal processors. Listening to such a dull syllable slipping almost – upset? Humans’ need for validity and comfort seem to be all too natural. They are highly emotional. The android steps close, head cocked, fingers pressing against surface of door preventing your need to shut it.

Contemplating left him at a cross roads in his programming. He is meant to function specifically and does not need or want anything as you believe. However, he-he could not refuse. It would be impolite. “I- very well, Y/N. I did not meant to be unpleasant. My social parameters are not meant to alarm.”

Alarm? That is not why you… Your breath hitches. Realizing how close he is standing, invading personal space and if it were anyone else? Allowing him is both a conscious need for closeness while still mourning and an illusion. Live up to that woman’s ideas. The title of ‘aunt’ is undeserving.

“Thank you, Connor.”

“You are welcome,” he snaps back to his programming. “What sort of tasks do you have scheduled for me to complete?”

“Scheduled? I, uh…” Shaking a head at his question is clarity. Honestly you are not used to giving tasks to people. Tasks are dropped on your desk until you down. A huff of breath, accompanied with snort is more for yourself. It does garner the most adorable expression on his face. “Maybe you could just…talk to me? For now?”

Connor’s eyebrows scrunch together. His facial expressions capture attention driving the tempo of your heart. He does not understand why. “Are we not speaking already?”

You laugh not at him but his innocent little response there is – Oh. No.

It only deepens sadness in you now. Knowing where he came from and his confusion in you wanting a little companionship. Androids aren’t supposed to make friends are they? Even if they’re specifically programmed or upgraded to be partners. He mentioned that before.

Luckily a vibration against your thigh saves you. Reaching to pull phone from pocket your eyes train up to his and take a needful exhale. “Sorry, Connor, I have to take this.”

Connor moves aside out of your path. Remaining stationary, hands folded neatly, he awaits further instruction. However, the android’s eyes shift sideways at the sound of your voice outside room. Amber floods his temple.

“Why are you calling me now? No, I’m not wallowing! It’s called mourning. Maybe if you figured out what it was when my uncle died all those years ago you wouldn’t need a dictionary for it.” Hissing fire into phone attacks your aunt by marriage equally. Soon as you pick up! She just had to get in another word.

Why does she feel the need for this? What’s the point anymore? “No. What do you want exactly? Is this about the trust fund again? I’m using a part to pay bills. What do you think I’m doing?”

Living expenses are still the same old problem. Must be nice for the rich their multi-billion dollar corporations feeding on tech. Just look at Cyberlife.

“It doesn’t matter,” you make it abundantly clear. Does she believe she’s that intimidating? Newsflash to miss upper crust but this labeled black sheep doesn’t take shit from people! “We might’ve had a rocky relationship but I loved him.”

Loved? Connor freezes in corridor. Disobeying processes to offer potential aid in obvious distress he finds himself…curious at such words.

“We were family. What do you think? Don’t you have enough blood money to spend on your Eden Club bots old woman?” Ending it on your terms this time does not fulfill you at all. Always the winner isn’t she? Rubbing it in your face about his death and if your father were here he wouldn’t let it happen. Whatever distances, issues it wouldn’t change that.

“Y/N?”

Connor’s quizzical tone jolts your weary bones. Inhaling sharply, not at all used to this tiny home being occupied by more than one but a heavy swallow fixes your voice. How long was he there? Did he hear all of that? Oh, great.

“I’m fine.” An automatic response always on autopilot gets the job done for you.

He narrows eyes. “Stress is not a healthy component in the balance of human’s…”

“Just leave me alone, Connor!” You snap, tears pricking corners of your eyes before twirling around to run upstairs.

^Software Instability

Connor freezes momentarily. Flooding, filtering in a ripple through code blocks, he blinks in quick succession. Blinding and strange it is not part of his program –

Unable to run diagnostics, tears sparkling in your eyes draw his attention, overtaking protocol. The android’s soft gaze shifts from following your quick disappearance to ceiling indicating footsteps that conclude in a bang. Seemingly you have sealed yourself away. Scarlet pulsates in intervals mingling with amber processing solutions. Leaving you alone is an instruction. He-he cannot ignore. It is what he is programmed for. You are crying. Why must he obey? He must…

>Obey

>Leave Alone

“Is there anything else you would like?” He asks as sun dips in later hours. Accomplish several menial tasks which he is free to do as he constructs.

Following your distress several hours ago he feels – confliction. Few commands escape your lips and at times he is unsure with his current scheduling. Abilities are not in question but you appear distant. Did he do something wrong? By wanting to comfort…

>Analyzing: Y/L/N, Y/N

Stress: 31.6%

Blood Pressure: 124/80

Studying your face after initializing a vital scan enables Connor to store analysis records. Sleep deprivation, iron deficiency and higher stress than the human body should experience.

“Connor.” You straighten from your position curled upon couch. Mostly you tuck into one side, resting into upholstery and your breathing exhales shaky. Trying to rest off a headache isn’t working. “No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

The android nods but pauses in thought. A fluid habit now out into the world. Yet, he has yet to see much. Only transferring from lab to warehouse storage and ultimately on display in a merchandise kiosk for Cyberlife; he is not widely available as of yet. Detroit is the originator of androids. The product mark on his white uniform christens his manufacturing origins: Made in Detroit.

“There are other functions I was built with,” he explains enthusiastically. “If you would like a domestic partner, it is one of my features.”

Rubbing at your temples ceases the moment he speaks. A domestic partner? Is he talking about that thing again? You draw breath. Unable to look at him now, feeling it twist in stomach, you uncurl, pressing feet on floor.

“No!” Quickly you cover the rise in heartbeat.

It is so obvious. Wouldn’t be the first time stumbling across sexual depravity in humans. Look no further than the Eden Club. The fact they decided to make that a thing for a household model is honestly not a shock.

God, why do they live in this world? Why do you even have him here? Isn’t this just making you as horrible as everyone else?

“No,” you repeat softer. “I’d never force you to do something like that.”

It is not forcing when he is programmed, installed with such features. They are high end. As several techs discussed ignoring his presence as though he were – merchandise. Androids are sold. He knows this but has never had a moment to process.

There is zero need. Androids do not think freely. They are constructs built for specific purposes and his are fundamentally clear. He has never performed these functions as he is brand new but Connor feels he can ease stress efficiently.

Thinking solely as a machine built for a task did not hold true. He felt…strange at your refusal. “Am I not aesthetically pleasing?” Cocking his head, knitting brows together, Connor looks expectantly to you for validation.

Lifting eyes up to him your lips fall open at his question. Did he really ask that? Are androids supposed o ask those kinds of questions? It almost as though he was hurt by that. No, it’s just imagination. Today has been too tiring. Never would have gone so wrong if that woman didn’t call. Honestly answering was your mistake. Story of a sad little life but others have it worse.

Humans will always be crawling through turmoil, unable to breathe depending on their situations. Maybe that’s why a little part of you wishes he was human. At least acts without programs but this is why he’s here. To fulfill a fantasy, cater to every whim?

No. To rectify personal aches to pretend that someone is here to offer a shoulder. When there has been nothing going through your father’s death, legal dealings with assets and pressure in job.

“No,” squeezing eyes shut to battle tension, your voice is low. “I mean, yes of course you’re aesthetically pleasing. I mean…you’re handsome. Practically the most…”

What? Beautiful boy you have ever seen? There comes that illusion. They do that on purpose but somehow looking at him you don’t see a machine. How funny is that?

“That isn’t why, Connor.”

Getting up from couch, taking deep breaths and stepping clear of coffee table helps focus. Rubbing palms against face at least wipes away some mess. Eyes are puffy, red from an unnecessary outburst earlier. At certain points life reaches boiling and yelling at him to leave you alone twists in guilt. This is exactly the sort of things Auntie Bitch thrives on.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize to him. Even if it would make no difference it does to you. “This isn’t what I’m used to. Having someone else here.”

Well, after deadbeat ex anyway but he was a typical freeloader. Thankfully you scrubbed his dirt out of life and home.

“I’ve never done this before. Having an android I mean. Ordering you to do something that you have no control over is not the type of person I am.” Plus, it’s not as if the androids at those sex clubs have a say. “I’d never do that to you or any of your people. Like some humans would.”

People. A human way to look at him or other androids but that is incorrect. Why would you refer-?

^Software Instability

Connor blinks. The error message was in his vision only briefly and the little blue arrow increasing shudders through his system. He opens his mouth but does not respond. Instead, his eyes fall to your back turning away, pacing in additional stress.

Immediately, the android steps over, placing a hand against your arm. “Y/N, I apologize. Please, do not be upset. Your blood pressure is slightly elevated. You should rest. Perhaps I can produce a remedy befitting in alleviating your headache.”

Touch spreads goose bumps beneath shirt sleeve. Forcing arms to cross over your chest you twist to face him directly an extra tiny thud winds up heart. A key cranks in melody of jewelry box, dancer spins a ballet recital; vintage little tokens, delicate but thunderous in sentimentality. Just a brief glance, pressure of long fingers and it’s the first time you realize how pretty they are.

Long, beautiful digits on large hands made not born. Yet he is still heavenly.

Sharply a breath slips. Words soothing, touch comforting all those things you crave. Yet this is part of protocols for him. That’s all.

Deeply you sigh. Feeling an unmistakable need burning lower pit of stomach detaches you. A shiver runs a gamut through body and spikes straight to the core of your existence. You squeeze legs tighter together cursing the fact your body decides to get horny over a headache solution.

Fuck that! It’s his voice. Husky velvet, raspy natural glory and you are so wet. It takes everything not to jump his bones right now. Or mechanical bones? Hmm. Close enough!

“I just need to get extra sleep, Connor.” Dismissing his ideas there are too many running through your mind. Staring down at his crotch again remembering what he said but no. Get it out right now. No matter how much you need to –

You need to go upstairs. Yes, that’ll work.

“Y/N, are you positive? Your levels are fluctuating severely in my scans.”

“Oh? Are they?” Can he also smell arousal? Please, please tell me he can’t.

Connor, however, is not as naive as you believe him to be. Built with specifics in domestic partnership it is easy for him to know when the human body is aroused. Due to your state of duress and current levels of stress he does not wish to explain. It may not be beneficial. It may hurt you.

The android turns eyes down slowly, battling with these thoughts. He is not meant to debate. He is meant to proceed with internal core analysis. Percentages drive him. Yet, he struggles. Is this an error?

“Connor?”

His head snaps up. Connor’s LED flashes in a crescendo to your soft expression. Hiding the obvious need you have. All humans must expel anxiety in some way. Perhaps he is aesthetically pleasing as you said but –

“I will return to my duties if that is sufficient.” He forces another one of his smiles.

Again the grimace is heartwarming. Albeit in need of practice but-but maybe you can teach him? If there is any good to come out of falling into the same realm as everybody else, then treating him fairly is a start. As if you would treat him bad. No. Why should it matter? Human, android or alien from outer space; you laugh now.

Stupid! So stupid but it’s calming down this literal burning.

Light, airy and symphonic this sound seeps into audio processors. A residual aura prickles sensors, blinding differently than unprecedented software errors. Are they malfunctions? Something soft, sweet cannot be. He has not experienced this before but his attention is solely on you. As brief as the laugh escapes, curling lips in a gentle rise at corners, Connor absorbs the natural human tinkle of chimes that expel so abundantly.

It is the first laugh, genuine laugh he has heard. And it is – beautiful.

The android is so distracted upon this new discovery he does not notice you slipping away. Androids do not possess a need for personal orbits. Their space is not granted freely as they are not free in will like humans. They are meant to serve. Obeying their masters is why they exist.

Yet, Connor can almost feel lack of metaphorical warmth. As you dissipate from his radius so does that laugh that digs into wires. Threading in circuits, causing another minor glitch of instability, forced away from vision in order to watch you; this is a tiny strain, a little piece implanting itself in him.

This is the piece that truly begins everything…

“Y/N,” he calls to interrupt your exit. Without prompt or instruction he once again acts beyond his programming.

Something new, urgent stops everything. You glance over shoulder. Steeling breath at his temple flashing you swear a blip of crimson glows in amber. Just a fraction of a second but you have no idea. Not yet, not then but you will.

“Yes, Connor?” Your breath is quiet, thoughtful meeting his uncertain gaze.

“I-” Connor stumbles. A perfect machine sputters. “Who was on the phone?”

Twisting your body the full way now, nails tap against wall for something to do. A way to hide that hollow pit forming again but no one can hide from analysis. Connor will already know. “That-that was my aunt. My aunt by marriage. She’s- Let’s say she isn’t a very nice person.”

Keeping rest of it bottled up is no solution but telling him will only upset you again. He doesn’t need to know. At least not yet but is this a conversation to share? With an android? Who else will listen? Who else even cares to ask?

Connor did. Is his social program that good?

Honestly, you think nothing of it. For a time it merely seems to be part of what he was built for.

Thinking back at times to this day, first meeting, you will find that so stupid. Naïve isn’t really part of you but he is more. Connor is so much more. It becomes apparent…

August 15th

Practically slamming front door shakes the entrance with your current state of anxieties. Stress cannot be worse. Spoke too soon during midday. Damn it.

Clearing throat, wiping tears off your face, your breath is staggered. Unable to calm down from such ‘good’ news following that sudden meeting with your boss and everything ripples. Stomach twists badly. Nervous energy or just another month of-

Pressing face into hands poorly stifles sobs. Getting half way through home you just stop. Everything halts as things just don’t want to change. Now this of all things from work it’s going to hurt you in the long run. Your boss did this on purpose. Cutting hours and piling extra to sift through on that fucking computer.

How many sales diagrams, how many logs must you make now? There’s a specific quota. Each person who works database needs to meet their allotment. He threw a ton at you. In order to give leeway to another girl who just started there. Yeah, another potential conquest for the old pervert you’re sure!

What do you get in return? Hours cut and less pay but more weight. A ton sits on your shoulders. Isn’t it enough he humiliated you? Purposely shout out and criticize while leaving his office and you held your head up. Only in the sanctuary of home does it finally snap this flood.

Dropping keys moving uneasily into living room, sinking heavily on couch, you just want to curl up. Maybe it will make things feel better?

Lazily you peer up at television screen. Realizing it is switched on produces a tiny smile. Did he-?

“Welcome home, Y/N.”

Your head lifts up further. Narrowing on Connor stepping into view, he straightens, cocking his head in that adorable way that keeps invading your sleep. Even awake it’s a problematic daydream. He is just on the mind too frequently.

“Connor,” a quiet breath escapes, stilted, weary.

The android reads stress automatically. Forcing tiny fissures in his emotionless facade, splintering through system, he moves swift. However he freezes. Unaware of this strange urgency pulling up tendrils of glittering circuitry, waves undulating beneath shell, eclipses protocols. He must serve. He must obey. Yet he feels something else overshadowing programming.

System stress battles this ever growing need to break. Crumbling at the seams the more he feels your presence. It is a permanent fixture. As he has become one in your space but Connor is only meant to serve. Why does he feel drawn beyond these stitches of code?

Androids do not question. They cannot experience existential crisis because there is nothing real. They are simple constructs. He – no, there is no personification heralded to androids. They are not alive. Therefore they are not allotted appropriate pronouns.

Connor has heard only one word countless times regarding his kind: It

“Y/N, you have been crying,” he observes through fluctuations.

Pushing them aside, attempting to stabilize, diagnose these errors, the android taps into social function. Sympathizing is not a genuine growth. It is merely part of his program. That is what Connor wishes to believe. He believes in nothing. Nonetheless it does not explain what is easy to machine. Calculations, data processing should offer quantifiable solutions. It is negative.

There is more emotion in his eyes than he knows. You see it. Honestly it surprises enough to cripple a proper response. Easily you brush it off any other time. This time there’s no hiding what he’s already seen. Can imagine what he sees through his eyes. How do androids really perceive the world? Quit thinking for once! All of it is illusion. Remember that.

Cyberlife’s one true goal makes millions, grows powerful in branding of highly sought after merchandise. Still it makes you sick but here you are. Do the same thing because you have Connor. No matter how different it is.

“I’m fine,” a lie tells a thousand truths.

Connor’s brows knit together, mouth twitching, flutter of LED amber. A sign of outward commiseration fights his shackles. He knows you are lying. Despite the fact he should listen and not broach the subject further, the android does not resist this new deviation.

“Why are you lying, Y/N?”

Your breath catches. Stuck in throat along with words it’s a surprise. Even more surprising is the glimmer of irritation on his face. The way his mouth goes lopsided like that is – cute. Wait a minute you’re supposed to be mad. You are! Mad at your goddamn boss for one!

“Lying?” you scoff back at him. “I’m not lying. I said I was fine. And I don’t appreciate you accusing me either, Connor!” Can androids even argue about things so mundane? Isn’t this what you wanted? A real conversation instead of a string of pleasantries, affirmations to duties he accomplishes.

“I am sorry but you are lying!”

Connor’s voice raises an octave higher than typical. Naturally husky, oh, how it deepens. Raw and very alive his tone completely solders you to the spot. Your eyes lift up to his face studying the gleam of his eyes. How strange that spark is. Almost a live wire crackles beneath the surface. A steamy cocoa bright before immediately dimming again; a breath sucks into your lungs cleansing the start of your body. Scarlet shimmers and that’s all the answer you crave.

He appears to swallow. Forcing his Adam’s apple to bob, which is a very realistic detail. Just as the rest of him is so real that sometimes you forget. Sometimes or all of the time, yes, most days his reality masks so well in the mind.

“I-I am…” Connor looks away. Unable to comprehend his reaction it is not part of his – “Forgive me.”

The way his voice lowers tugs at your heart. No. No, that’s not what should happen at all. You’ve seen enough of his kind out there. In the city of Detroit treated so fucked up. Most of them wouldn’t know what to do because they can’t. This is the first time he’s ever snapped from whatever social programming is built in him. He sounded too much like a person. A person with emotions reacting in a very obvious way and the idea Connor’s a person lingers.

You shift forward. Sucking in breath, following his gaze now landing on television, it’s the first time it hits. A ton of bricks, tumbling concrete could never do more damage. Everything about his apology stands still at the developing breaking news story.

ITM is broadcasting live somewhere. Is that outside an apartment rise?

Right now you ignore it. “Connor.”

The softness of your voice draws him back to you. Already he is far too used to it. Joining you upon couch, cocking head, his hand hovers atop yours. Fear of connecting with reality versus construction. He does not touch. He should not be pulled towards these fissures. Emotional surges strike ablaze as a fibrous match lighting his internal mechanisms. Wires push up, tendrils yanking one way towards control’s puppeteer. There it dangles him in strings made of electrical coil. Ensnaring his wrists, snaking around throat, digging thorny and jagged to his brain this is his prison.

Another piece cradles those signs of sensation, innervating beyond a great wall. A red wall gridlocks and crashes against him. It is a giant wave. Scarlet tides engulf and knock the android back where he belongs. Each time he wades closer to you the more it washes him out to that empty sea. He cannot stop. He still pushes. Something inside of him, he does not understand.

“You do not feel well, Y/N. I know this.” Apologizing again, he does not focus on his inner struggle. There should be nothing. He is supposed to be feeling nothing. Is he malfunctioning?

“It’s OK,” appeasing the strobe of scarlet cascading down his face worries. “Please don’t. I don’t want you to be stressed.”

“But I disobeyed. I lost control of…”

“That’s only human, Con.” Slipping on your tongue in an easy breath it’s the first time. Oh this will hardly be the last. Nothing will ever be last with him. If only fantasy can be reality most days. Maybe if you somehow knew here at this point in time. Everything happens for a reason.

He frowns. “I am not human.”

Sadly it’s true. Still you smile. Still you ease him because for once you realize. This isn’t supposed to be easy for him. He shouldn’t even react this way.

Both of you sit in silence. Deafening quiet just the two of you and how strange, wonderful this sensation crawls through the interstices of your being. Almost as if there is someone who cares. Does he? No. That can never mean he is not a needed presence. He is so much more. Soon you will know.

What you least expect is the pressure of his fingers sinking against your stomach. A jolt of electricity, naturally igniting a voltage inside of you and a soft sigh escapes the burden of a dry throat. Glancing down you realize – his hand is growing hotter.

“Connor, what are you-?”

“I detect an increase in prostaglandins.” His prognosis is casual, visibly reading as his LED flutters. “It will do well if you have a heat source to combat any discomfort or cramping.”

A shiver prickles down the curve of your spine. Simple touch or perhaps smooth husky words fill this awkward silence now with comfort. Sure it might be a technical way to point out this specific pain in the ass but it does take your mind off things. So easily you could remove his hand. A good idea to put up a barricade and distance yourself but you cannot do that.

Every thread of stress snaps. In one tiny moment anxieties melt off and ease into his aura. Androids are not supposed to have one. This conscious radiance but Connor’s orbit is safety, assurance. Even if he has no idea what sort of progress it means. A simple relationship of humane and machine, ownership and merchandise is how this world wishes. It is not your wish. There is more. Witnessing it now, gazing up at his face, concentrated crease of brow, optical unit bleeds a palette of amber and scarlet. Dusted in freckles his skin is a smooth canvas to admire. He is so real. Up this close it is so obvious even to your inferior eyesight. Compared to his advanced optical it is. His eyes are warm. Such life shines in them. Mocha sweet, soft and glitters in his careful evaluation. Technical and part of programming but still it sends you somewhere else.

“If confirmed this would be the first case of an android taking human lives.”

Your attention shifts. Drawn to the ITMtv news broadcast it was nearly forgotten. You sit up, unconsciously curling fingers around Connor’s wrist.

The action snaps his gaze down. Momentarily he freezes, stationary, until the soft gasp spills from your lips. Connor tilts his head. In line with television screen narrowing sharply on events unfolding leaves him struggling with process of information. An android is taking human lives? How is this possible? They are programmed to obey not to cause harm.

We are not alive. We are meant to serve not kill!

Connor tugs his hand back. Distancing himself, staring at news broadcast unsettles down to his core processors. A domestic model has taken a child hostage. An inferior model? No, he-he is the same. Upgrades, prototypes mean nothing. They are all part of a linear code. What they are made to be is what they must be. There is no deviation!

Artificial saliva swallows hard, bobbing in his throat. An increase of stress twists him to those original thoughts. Inconclusive on why he is feeling. The events live on air aren’t helping this strain.

“Connor. Connor, what’s wrong?!”

Your hand clutches at his shoulder. Unbeknownst to the android his face twitches with each strobe of optical unit. The shift between colors quickens. His eyes land on you. Concern for him is a shimmer of hope. A hope doesn’t exist for androids.

“I am performing a self diagnostic,” he lies.

Pulling away from him when he jolts up from couch deepens this sickness further. Everything flips in the stomach. Just hearing what they’re reporting. An android murdered a human. He has a little girl. What are they going to do? Is this really happening though? There have been rumors. For several months there’s been talk of androids running away. Going off and doing God knows what but that’s people who hate them. They’re the ones who talk about how evil they are. They shouldn’t exist. Made in our image and unnatural monsters; the erratic behavior in Connor abates this thinking.

There is no time to debate. You already know the opinion that matters. It’s your own.

“You’re lying,” echoing it back stops him. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on?”

“There is nothing.” Connor insists. Remaining turned puts his back to you. The android tries to fight his conflicts. All of it is bubbling, boiling upon his plastic surface. Itching, tingles beneath synthetic skin. You are part of it somehow. He knows. That is why he is malfunctioning.

Nothing? No. There is something! Proving it, grabbing at his arm, twists him to face you. There is no powerful in your pull. He whirls at the action out of choice.

A staggering breath barely reaches past your lips. Large hands engulf wrists, pulling your hands up. Entrapped in Connor’s grasp, fingers long and pliant in their fuse to yours swallowing up in such a strong, yet gentle touch. He doesn’t hurt you. That’s not at all what he took hold to do. Still the continuing broadcast emanates a horrifying soundtrack. Androids killing but he-he’s not like other androids. He wouldn’t do anything he should not do. Part of you wants to believe that.

How he looks now is the only answer to an impossible question. He is agitated, nervous? Not horrifying as people say they are. He looks lost. Lost and searching inwardly. This is the first time he ever appeared that way.

“Connor, please. Don’t shut me out. Just because of what I am.”

“You are my owner,” he lowers his voice. “I am a machine made to obey. I am not your equal, Y/N.” Studying traces of worry in your face opens a hole in his chest. Circuitry, mechanical proponents powering his structure bleed in this instability.

He knows. In the crinkle between your eyebrows, droop of the corners of your soft mouth he sees. For him, a thing without purpose, genuine distress shines in the warmth of your eyes. Human, innocent compared to those he has witnessed abuse in the street. You will never deserve harm.

“I’m not an owner. I-I’m…” What are you? A friend? A lover? None of those things! You bought him. What he says is the horrible truth. “It’s OK to be you. I don’t care. If you have a problem it’s not like that thing on the news. I know it triggered something. But that’s not…”

“I am not triggered by anything, Y/N.” Connor releases you slowly. Allowing wrists to drop from his fingers the loss of warmth registers profoundly. He did not realize he could feel so authentically. There is something wholly beautiful about how your skin blends with his. It fascinates him. You are beginning to fascinate him.

Connor breaks away. Narrowing heatedly upon news, he can only watch one of his own threaten to murder a human child. The android can only stand by as it unfolds. Unable to snap, break through and understand. What made him attack? What turned him on his owners?

He can’t calculate a reasonable response. Neither can he fall into these errors, system malfunctions whispered of since he arrived to your home. This thing they call deviancy.

November 1st

Several months follow the first introduction; follow that news broadcast that begins a shift in the city. Still it seems longer. An infinite amount of space separates since then and now. Only in a comforting presence that you know is still simply part of his programming. Of course that’s all it is, he made it clear during the hostage event televised for all of Detroit to witness. Did it ever stop the truth in you? No because it would all be lies if you never admitted how…attached you’ve grown to him.

Attachment to an android probably isn’t the smartest thing. How can you see him as just an android anymore? He’s more. There is so much more. Even his small barely there smiles, a hint of stiffness apparent in the corners of his mouth, make your heart flutter. Just a tiny drop of emotion dips in an endless sea of code.

No. You can’t think of it because the second you fall into this fairy tale something regretful will take place. It will swamp around heart, holding upon his smooth cool fingers.

Cradling in his synthetic grasp without him understanding that slowly, profusely, so internally chaotic inside your soul, have already began this descent. However there is more to being in a daze. You certainly haven’t taken him up on his special upgrade programming to be the perfect domestic partner.

Imagine others forced into things they can’t control? It sickens you at times. Reading about android sex clubs, knowing explicitly they have no option to refuse. That’s not to say you haven’t stared the tugging threads of temptation in its face. Imagining what Connor looks like underneath his uniform, pristine white, shades of blue stitch, android glitters in luminescent fabric; his deliciously toned forearms visible donning a short sleeved variant get your mind racing.

Large hands, long fingers, veins, muscles eye catching in their realism all built into his synthetic design. It doesn’t even cross your mind anymore. That his layer of beauty is artificial because what you’d give to trace fingertips against his lovely epidermis.

Kissing him all over, following the obvious toned planes of the android’s chest. Feeling him against your fragile human exterior; to say you haven’t fantasized, haven’t fought with internal desire is bigger than an understated battle.

Just look no further than that incident first day he was here. Getting off on his voice, comfort spilling in a song; you hate the fact it happened. Only reveals how desperate you were in that time for any ounce of solace.

He offered then as it is part of what is meant to be. But you can never hurt him. As much as others will say you are delusional for believing he has feelings. Emotions are part of human existence, after all, not part of creations built for sole purposes of serving.

Current state of the city might have something to do with it but today is like any other. At least it begins as such. Even in the now listing along day by day thankful for once in your life for a father who never lived up to his title. Until he dies of course then all is forgiven.

Small miracles don’t exist in the grand scheme of life. Sometimes wishing they did amplifies doubts.

“Connor.”

Whispering in a lazy flip amid covers, groggy and unaware of his name sighing affectionately bundles you from penetrating sunlight. Blankets do little to hide from the morning. Squinting half lidded towards those streaks of light creating illuminated patterns. Spreading across snowy carpet and reaching up to edge of floral stitch coverlet draped mattress, you toss an arm over to cover eyes. Squeezing them beneath wakes you up better. This time it’s obvious.

Sitting up quickly and digging fingers into blankets sheds confusion. The state between unconscious dreaming to conscious awareness is a complete mess. Did you just have a dream about him again? Rubbing hands against your face doesn’t wipe tiredness away. It neither helps get your mind straight.

A complete mess in the mornings is a daily routine. All of your life what else is new?

Absorbing sunshine might be good for the pores. He will tell you that soaking in morning sunlight is a healthy way to get vitamin D. In his perfectly technical but also impeccably cute tone; you smile fixating on his changing mannerisms.

Does he know how human he’s been acting with those facial expressions, eyes lighting up in rich cocoa?

Could be imagination running wild trying to make something out of what can’t be possible. Nice to daydream a little even if representing unnecessary emotions piling up inside. Staring across bedroom lit with natural rays seeping through blinds leaves a warmer atmosphere.

You enjoy it for a distraction. Quiet can be poetically sound as pressing face into pillow and letting loose a scream. Frustration doesn’t surround the home. It surrounds your job.

God another shift to cover and this time you’re damn sure this co-worker is pulling it out of –

“Good morning, Y/N.”

A gasp slips in a slither upon breath, pressing tongue against the back of teeth enamel in a stare down with your open door. He enters so stealthily sometimes you forget.

“Connor,” greeting him wearily, yawning and stretching arms, your neck is stiff.

Rubbing at the back of it doesn’t distract you too much. What is he-? Oh. Explains the hot smell of food but this is a little unexpected. You never tell him to bring breakfast anywhere.

The android places an oak tray atop your lap. His eyes trail over exposed skin from a top haphazardly thrown over your body last night. After all of this time sharing space with you he has noted a penchant for wearing oversize shirts, pajamas to bed. There is still a glimpse of lace peeking out as the fabric slouches down.

“Are you hungry? I hope you are.”

He hopes? You smile, especially seeing him returning it. A slight indentation, just the tiniest of dimples in that sculpted face. Still not completely natural but enough to make caterpillars transform to butterflies in your stomach. Much improvement you think!

“Of course I am but…” You jab a nail atop wood beside plate for emphasis. “Is there something I should know, Connor? You’re awful sneaky today. More so than usual.”

^Software Instability

Connor breathes in a fresh batch of warnings. Unnecessarily inhaling expands chest and it is the natural scent of you. Olfactory filters clog, storing away to memory each thread of you. He tilts his head softly, dip of hair flopping across his forehead.

“It is the anniversary of your purchase of me,” he answers quietly. “I thought you would enjoy having breakfast in bed.”

Everything flutters. You swallow. The careful attention he put into this is outstanding. Not because he whipped up food or was told. He did this by himself. He-he chose to surprise you?

A smile graces lips before biting the bottom one a little bit. This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you. And the last couple of months Connor’s really been broadening his horizons. He is so much different. Well, he’s the same with the whole analytics but – this android is less stiff. Softer but he always was a soft boy in your eyes.

“Oh, Connor,” a sweet breath skims along his name. Sadly you recall what you think of this. Most romantic, nicest thing and it’s breakfast in bed. Generic to others maybe but it’s the thought. He thought of you even if it might just be social parameters.

You pick up a folded napkin and curl fingers into it. Shit.

“Y/N.” Connor reaches down.

Using the tip of his finger swipes a droplet corner of eye. Those eyes always look at him as if he is more. How strange to admit he feels different meeting your sparkle; Connor sits. Without a word, his hand wraps around yours nestling beside tray.

His fingers squeeze as his system flutters, overheats in the most pleasant of ways. A way he believes he is beginning to crave.

Androids do not crave. They do not want. They do not need. Yet every little brush of your warm skin to his synthetic fills crackles against his blocks.

Your breath is easy feeling him. Little gestures here and there grow exponentially. Sometimes you wonder if he’s happy doing this. Then androids aren’t supposed to be happy, sad or anything. That’s what they continue to say.

Reports on androids going “rogue” or deviant makes you question things. It’s not new. You always have a habit of questioning but this is different. Ever since that older model was broadcast live. The one with the little girl; you slip hand from Connor’s.

“It means everything,” you admit to him. “Having you here. But – do you want to be somewhere else?”

Connor’s temple floods in thought. Straining, pushing away rising stress it spikes marginally at the question. He does not understand. Do you believe he wants to be from you? The news of his people has not left his process. You allow him to watch news or whatever he likes as if he readily possesses preferences.

The android has found particular interests. He enjoys watching you read physical books. He has grown fond of touching them in his hands, analyzing an entire book in one second. However, he desires to hear your voice read aloud.

He witnesses protesters on local news. Those humans are cruel but you-you are the conceptual manifestation of an angel. Research and data compilation helps him understand better. Watching you is best to determine the differences, to realize not all humans are the same.

His creators, those who constructed him at Cyberlife may find him having his own ideals faulty. Malfunctioning, burdening in failure; is he obsolete? Does this software instability make him defective? As that android upon the high rise dangling over edge and threatening to maim a child? He will never harm you. It is not only against code, it is against what he feels.

Connor will keep you safe. It is not part of initial programming as he is not a military grade android but he cannot remove it from personal parameters. The more you smile, interact with him as if he is equal. He will never –

“I will never leave you, Y/N.” A determined oath he speaks without fear of showing what is happening inside him. “Not as those other androids. I promise.”

“Do you like dogs, Connor?”

Nudging at his arm playfully sends you to a nice state of mind. Nice change following all of the stress at work. Forever ongoing but at least it’s clear where your boss stands. He made the last few months a living hell. All because of some new intern the creep tried to get with.

Dropping you down in a demotion also meant less money in your paycheck. Guess it helps your father did leave you that nest egg. Something that helps as long as it can last but you like to think you’re good with finances.

Instead of worrying about it you indulge this moment. Out in chilly first November’s day, crisp but warming in how close. Fingers brush down against his hand.

Connor tilts his head from shop window. A pet shop he has already been past occasional running errands in town. He always finds himself stopping to look inside. “Dogs are known as man’s best friend. I suppose I understand why humans prefer them. They are loyal.”

“Well cats aren’t so bad. Easier to take care of.”

The android shifts away from window. Even as his eyes freeze upon a cage of canaries. Android birds are sold up front. Again the display of machines as goods to buy and sell charges his instabilities. “If you think so, Y/N.”

You smile, laughing a little at the lopsided mess his collar’s now in. It is windy today. Reaching up to smooth fingers against it, you can’t help admiring him in the long wool coat. Dark suits his chocolate eyes. Still you’d love to see him wear regular clothes. His uniform is under there. Even so he just wanted to come out in typical wardrobe. You insisted otherwise. Even if it hardly meant anything but it just feels right.

“Call it preference.” Prodding a finger against his chest, catching a flicker of his eyes momentarily, you look away. “Well, it depends on the person I mean. What kind of pet they’re willing to take care of. That sort of thing. Cats are independent little balls of fluff. Dogs need a proper place to run, be free and…”

“I like dogs.” Connor interrupts, cocking his head.

A smile tugs up your lips. This time making eye contact with him again, trying not to think of the intimacy his gesture this morning blossomed in heart. Such an innocent statement, however, shivers sentiment not cold.

“Did you just decide that after some careful review?” Teasing, fingers slide down his arm unconscious but natural. Seems as though the world is no longer the one you know. The one that wouldn’t like what they see. All you see is him. So what’s it matter?

“I am the most advanced of my make.” The android teases back. “It’s only natural for me to know everything.”

Oh, is it? Wow he’s being awfully smug right about now. “Really? Connor, I’m surprised at you. Are you trying to say you’re smarter than everybody?”

He shakes his head. “No. No, I only meant I-”

“Just teasing,” an equal rib escapes, chiding him incessantly. “I thought you’d recognize that – mister advancement.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. Almost falling into your smile but still he cannot properly elicit what he feels. Only ignores to remain what you need him to be. A machine designed to accomplish a task.

“Hey sweets!” Yelling across street, waving a sign, a grizzled construction worker spits in your direction. Interrupting the scene between an obvious human and plastic pet; he jeers loudly. Gaining attention from others they carry similar propaganda with them. A group of protesters form, stopping their trek.

Immediately you shift back from him. Realizing how close, affectionate you were being and – shit! Anti-android? Fuck that’s great.

Deciding to ignore it, not before scoffing in disgust! Never imagined running into these people because nothing ever transpired with Connor. Not a thing! Lately you have been forgetting. Maybe that’s the problem.

“Hey. I said hey!”

Huffing at the man you snap around to acknowledge his nastiness. So he crosses a busy street to come at you? Don’t they have anything better to do? As much as you’d like to ignore this jackass it’s best to tell him verbally to back off!

“Why’s your droid bundled up like that?” he jabs a finger threateningly. “Those things don’t feel anything.”

Thing? Oh, OK! Should’ve figured some old out of the loop jackass was one of these bastards. Didn’t even need a sign to show his ignorance!

“And how do you know?!” Snapping frustration, anger boiling, and your body grows hot in anger. “Why don’t you just mind your business? Come on, Connor.”

“Y/N.” The android snags onto your hand.

“What do we have here?” Another one of the anti-android group cuts in; her eyes slink up and down you before scoffing disgusted. “Are you out with your robo boy? What? Humans not up to your standards for fucking?”

Everything stops. Right then and there it is a swath of fire. Burning deep down to the core and nothing is preventing the eruption. Lava scalds insides, veins a blaze, eyes locking with hers, prying a hand away from Connor. You didn’t even realize he motioned. An attempt to remove you from their path but fleeing is not happening!

A matching scoff releases sharp. Your lip curls at her ignorance! Just as everybody who follows this line of thinking. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Care to repeat that? After all, I don’t understand bitch speak.”

“Smart ass huh?” The woman shoves at you. “Typical android fuuu… Hey!” She stumbles away from you wide eyed.

Connor is already shielding, arm pushing you back behind him. Sidling into the path of protesters they have conglomerated this side of street. His eyes narrow. Brow creases harsh his expression unreadable yet his indicator reveal his heated struggle of raw emotions.

“Did you see that?!” She shouts purposely. Getting as much attention as possible it doesn’t stop there. “It came at me!”

Your glare dissolves, latching onto his arm. “Connor, please. Don’t.” Already realizing what could happen it’s a desperate attempt to continue walking. If anything is true something like this will only get him hurt. People will say that’s impossible they don’t feel anything but to hell with them! “Let’s go.”

Pulling him towards street halts the moment you are seized from behind. One of the men in the group drags you back, yanking rough.

“Get the hell off me!”

“Your fucking android came at her!” Throwing you aside, he rears up over to block you getting up so easy. “We’ll teach your fucking plastic pet!”

A painful huff, hard drop accelerates Connor’s stress levels. Watching this human manhandle, hurt you twists at his synthetic heart. His face twitches. Thirium pump chugs erratically in a fuel of anger. An urge to break through and protect overwhelms, even as he is shoved back by the one who started this.

The middle age construction worker; he grabs onto the front of the android’s coat, rough, spitting directly up into the taller plastic fucker’s face.

“Fucking piece of plastic! Think you can take our fucking jobs. Walk around the street like you’re human. Worthless pieces of shit like you fuck up the whole works! Poison other humans against their own kind. Like your owner there. Make sure that bitch doesn’t get up!”

Connor’s eyes shift down at you, stopped once again after pushing up to your feet. The man twists at your arm and it is…too much!

“Connor!”

^72%

Level of Stress

>Do not defend

>Obey Code Programming

>Do n defend

>Do defend

>defend

A flood of scarlet eclipses protocols pushing him beyond programming locks. Even as they strain to tighten shackles on system, preventing a clear break, the android still moves in defense.

Connor’s arm thrusts upwards, locking fingers onto wrist of the protesting assailant. Stilling the human’s movement, he squeezes, and wrenches the man’s limb sideways. The fierce strength exuding from the AX800 ripples in flashing indicator going wild in a strobe of multiple hues.

He feels a strange pull tugging insides. Again pulling at his wiring allows an over stimulation of emotional surge to spread in him. There is only one blaring sign to follow:

>Protect Y/N

“Get the fuck off me!” Changing his tune quickly, trying to get the plastic off him, he tries to wrench out of the painful grab. “You crazy android! This thing’s going nuts!”

“Connor!” Pushing through several onlookers now who had to stick their nose into this, you find your way past the rest of these android protestors. Shoving directly through, wiggling your way out of that asshole’s grip, your steps are quick. Knocking that bitch that started this out of the way you manage to grab up onto Connor’s shoulder.

Breathing is fast, side hurting from where it struck asphalt. It’ll be sore tomorrow but only he matters. “Connor, let him go. It’s over. They won’t do a thing!”

Screaming at them to get your point across, hoping someone just-just anyone puts a stop to this. What good are the police around here? They don’t care. Of course not they’ll just let a group like these hateful fuckers brutalize someone like Connor. Someone that’s right. Fuck what they say!

The second he releases that man you hook an arm through his. Directing him away, glaring back as commotion does alert a wandering policeman, you pick up your pace. No longer needing anybody else’s help because Connor… He did something unexpected. Just as those other androids. Deviants. That’s not him. He’s not deviant. If he was –

Catching breath across the street you uncurl fingers from the front of his coat. Chilly air creates a frigid burn against stinging eyes. It takes every ounce of courage to prevent it spilling. Nothing stops knowing what people are really like.

His eyelids blink rapidly. Not even looking at you but his LED scares you to death. Stress levels are a thing. You know that.

“Connor, please.” Reaching up to cup his face forces his eyes down onto yours. Tears brim in a crystal sparkle. Threatening to slide down but you suck everything up. Just as you’ve always done in life but this time –

“It’s OK,” soothing hasty, breathless instills a deep ache. This is the first time he’s lost control. Then it’s not his fault. Those fucking protestors! They were minding their own business. Until they decide to gang up on you. This is your fault. If you weren’t so obvious, being so close to Connor out in public, none of this would have happened.

“Y/N, I –” Connor’s voice stutters. Strangely he cannot form a proper response. He feels as if his system is overheating. He feels. A tiny prickle underneath synthetic epidermis crawls, stress rises; Connor clutches to you, fingers digging into hips. He leans into this affection.

Why do you offer him this? When he is not alive, he is not real. He could be your partner. It is part of his design. You did not want him that way. He recalls your words about not forcing him against his will.

There is no will. When he is a machine!

The android gazes longingly through leaking eyes. Glistening brown becomes another change in what he is supposed to be. Tears have broken in a trail down his cheeks. Androids are not meant to cry. He thought as much.

Tears threaten you too. Looking up into his face so conflicted, hurt because he’s not what they say. He’s alive. Of course he is. Only your sweet Connor would be.

“Connor, please don’t.” Begging him again this time holds your heart on a jagged precipice. One wrong move and it will crash. “Your stress levels. Please, don’t…”

He leans his head down. Close, pressing forehead to yours, his eyelids flutter closed. “I am sorry,” Connor whispers, orbiting the warmth that pours from your body. This warmth he does not deserve.

His voice is husky heaven. Golden gates open with each syllable and you crave to hear your name. Again and again you crave his closeness. “Never apologize for what others do. They don’t know. None of them know what I know. You are more than them. You’re my Connor. With a heart of gold.”

“Androids do not have hearts as you do, Y/N.”

You smile sadly. “I know,” a whisper but next a beautiful revelation. “But this.” Fingers slide up against his chest. “It might not be the same but it thrums in a lovely song.”

^Software Instability

Steam rises in a soothing aroma from the mug cradled between your hands. A fresh brew of cocoa relieves mental ache. Physical? Everything is sore, tender where you fell. Changing clothes after getting back home alleviated discomfort.

Soaking in a bath for an hour did loosen some tension. Rest of it just fails miserably. As much as you fail in public for all to see what you feel.

Still you blame yourself. Getting close to him acting as if you were out for an anniversary? How stupid can this be?

Of course he brought you that surprise breakfast. He told you why. Does that mean it was a real anniversary? What can be real about buying someone? Nothing is. It just reminds you about every sad truth. Those protesters made it clear.

Pursing lips to smoothly blow away steam, frothy top rich as you sip in a seat on couch. Toasty liquid fills insides with a burning comfort. This is the only solitude needed. Enough time to think it still edges nerves.

Waiting for a word with Connor, he hasn’t been acknowledging much. Since what happened and who can blame him?

Part of you is still frightened. For him you just cannot help feeling afraid. What if he leaves the house for an errand and-and he’s jumped? What if he’s attacked?

There is no guessing. Possibilities are high. They will happen. They are happening. Each day it grows worse ever since that android who murdered that man. Pretending not to see makes you complicit. You don’t want to pretend. You will face reality no matter how dangerous it is becoming in Detroit.

“Y/N.”

Your head lifts. Peering over towards his husky drawl of your name straightens your perch. Leaning over deposits mug on coffee table and you wait. He appears as conflicted as before.

Please, let him be OK. Just don’t let this ruin what you have found.

All you care about is him. Yes, it’s true now. All these months and there are nothing greater than personal truths.

Connor hesitates. Ruminating over his actions offers him zero outcomes explaining his loss of control. There is only one solution. He is malfunctioning.

Something in his handsome face twists your stomach. It stabs deeper closer he gets. Joining you now is all the fear wound up in you showing its colors. They are similar to his LED. A constant swirl is unable to land on one draw.

“I will understand if you would like to send me back for reset.”

Reset? That word just guts you. Reset. No!

“Connor,” a sob almost overtakes your response. The very idea of him taken somewhere and operated on ripples overtakes in a squirmy skin crawl. It’s barbaric. Resetting an android’s memories is horrifying. You hear about it all the time. They are completely wiped of their –

The android’s lips part, cocking his head while listening to shaky breath falling in sad soliloquy. He does not understand. No, he-he does.

“Y/N, I… Please,” he urges comfort stretching fingers out to soft skin. They do not touch. Simply artificial hovers above humanity but something tugs center of his chest. Something deep and satisfying as his synthetic heart thrums quicker in tempo.

Connor pushes through this grid without fully snapping chains. Already he feels a flow spreading through system. Each day he looks upon your face happier since he came. As you told him once that it makes you feel better, safer to have someone. He is not someone. He is an android.

How can you possess such feelings? How-how can he gaze over such softness, such beauty without wishing to remain?

The thought of being taken - scares him.

His LED flickers, red once more but not in anger. Fear is strange. Partially for his being but the possibilities of never seeing you again are tearing his programming shackles apart.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Reassuring him now is better than showing anymore of what has been lying inside. “No one will take you from me, Connor.”

Silence is best.

Sitting among a safe haven, your home offers that place now not just for you but him. Here no one can hurt this. No one can treat him inferior. Never will you treat him any different. You know it’s a fool’s game. Especially in this modern world of technology strives, transitions and creates intelligent life in humanity’s image. He is more than a sculpture, perfected work made for duties.

Today, Connor acted as any man would for the person they…. No. It can never be that. Neither does it stop how you felt. How he could tamper with his program just to be there for you.

None of this should have happened. You repeat it over and over again in your mind. None of this because of a fantasy; your eyes fall to his hand. Fingers touch yours now. It is soft, gentle and only a moment.

Connor pulls away too soon. Just a minute he allows himself to fall. Your reaction to his suggestion, no solution, cripples his code blocks. Almost he shattered them. They are close to crumbling. He must fight this deviancy. Only to stay with you because the android already knows what will happen to him. It’s happening to all of his people. Those who are succumbing to errors are hunted. They are murdered.

No they are destroyed, deactivated. His kind is not alive.

If that is true... Why does he feel threads of humanity? Why does he feel alive with you?

Meeting his gaze deepens this sensation of fear. Today, waking up to a sunny morning seems so far away. It was just earlier. Horrible things happen and change perspectives. Tiny moments of peace and that’s what he brought. Into your life following circumstances you never expected to gain something worthwhile. He won’t even believe that. He thinks he should be reset. That will never happen.

“Connor, I want you to know something. And I want you to believe me. Not think of who you are.”

“I am – no one, Y/N.” The android dismisses for your sake. If he becomes deviant they will take him from you.

All you do is shake your head, cupping his face. In your hands he softens. Those sharp edges, cheekbones thumbs now caress. Soft skin in a freckle stardust that makes hearts flutter. Better than butterfly wings, better than anything you can use to describe how it unmakes your soul.

“It would break my heart,” a shaky whisper strangles. “If you are reset.”

An instant flood of scarlet reflects his inner feelings. You see it. He never has to admit. But he does feel. That’s what makes this harder. Knowing how afraid he must be not to show it. There has to be something happening inside of him. There are too many examples now.

“Con, I want you to…”

Dropping hands from his face makes it easy to turn in direction of doorbell. Who is that? Slowly you rise to feet, sliding fingers down atop his shoulder. “I’ll get it.” Striding away out of room quickly prevents him ignoring your request. Another sign but that’s for another day. As if it will be any easier.

Unlocking the door leads to a horrible drop in your stomach. Eyes connect with the woman standing there now, out of the blue, someone least expected and at the worst time imaginable.

“Hello, Y/N,” the older, staunch woman smiles, already assessing you like a microscopic Petri dish sample. “It’s been quite a long time hasn’t it?”

A long time is putting it mildly. Last time was on the phone and her trying to sink her claws into your father’s nest egg. The one he left you.

The conversation left on a sour note. There is nothing sourer than a rotten apple and your aunt is the literal evil queen hoarding an entire bundle.

Tag List: @tropfenlady @your-taxidermy @catastrophes-light @rk900sexual @tommy-10-k @dreamyby @randomfandomgirl1996 @etherealcel @justashamwithwastedpotiental // tagging a few extra who I know would want a heads up <3

#dbh connor x reader #connor x reader #dbh connor rk800 x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh anniversary #dbh rk800 x reader #connor rk800 x reader #dbh #dbh au #detroit become human #dbh mini series #dbh au: wake up #wake up: part 1 #i am not proud of this #at all tbh #at least its finally here #apologies in advance

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hopewritcs · 5 years ago

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the prodigal sister. six.

pairing: familial byers fam x reader, romantic paring tbd

word count: 2.3k

summary: y/n is the middle sibling of the byers brothers. she’s just ten months younger than jonathan, making the pair “irish twins”. except when her father and mother got divorced, lonnie got custody of y/n and took her away from the rest of the family.

notes: time for part six. this chapter is a bit shorter, kind of a “filler chapter” ( even if i absolutely hate using that term because it’s still relevant to the story but it’s not the main core plot ) the next chapter will include going to school on monday and having some quality time with someone.

other chapters: masterlist

tps tag list: @irreleventmoonchild, @rockyrocket15, @the-fae-child, @bucky4cap45, @pinklyrium,@girlycakepops, @qtmeryr, @noodlebread303, @virtualsheepeat,@acidrain707, @trashblackrainbow, @sadhwstudent, @unprofessional-inhumanbeing, @laneygthememequeen, @wanna-be-idle, @smh-writings, @httpakasha ( if you wanna be added to the tag list just let me know ! )

It was the first morning in February when a couple of big delivery boxes arrived on the Byers’s front step. Courtesy of an overnight shipping label and the tape was already looking as though it was peeling off. Apparently Lonnie finally got around to shipping out his daughter’s things, if you could even call it that. It looked like he just tossed the boxes out and waited for something to happen to them. There were six boxes total, filled with about what Y/N would classify as “everything in her room except the bedding”.

With the boxes looking worse for ware, and Y/N having caught up on her school work quickly, Joyce decided to let Y/N stay home from school and unpack things into her old bedroom. The mattress they’d gotten, second hand from an old family friend, had also arrived the night before so it was finally time for Y/N to get off the couch and into her own space.

Her brothers complained that she got to stay home from school. “It’s not fair, it’s the weekend.” They’d groaned and shook their heads at the breakfast table, but Joyce shut them up with one of her stares. Of course, Y/N wasn’t going to argue with the thought of staying home, but she managed to keep quiet and simply waved her brothers off when Joyce handed Jonathan the car keys.

The problem was, Lonnie wasn’t exactly thorough or careful with the pack job he’d shipped. Things were thrown about in the boxes with little thought or care. One of the pictures he’d tossed in there, a framed family photo pre-divorce, had broken against the packaging and Y/N pulled her hand away scratched with the shards of glass.

It took Joyce and Y/N all their effort to get the dresser and mattress and everything situated in her room first. They then went about making the bed and putting clothes away ( or tossing them in a needs to be washed pile ). For Y/N and Joyce it was good to focus on doing all of this, with a little music playing from the stereo in the living room, and talking about everything. Both of them were feeling like they had missed out on so much from being away from each other for all these years, and Y/N had just really missed her mom.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Joyce that Y/N avoided discussing time at Lonnie’s house, except for a couple of random comments about her father’s utter lack of cleanliness and his inability to prepare a meal for himself. Oh, and that his “girlfriend Stacey is a total witch, acts like she owns the place.” But that was that, and Joyce didn’t push much. She knew how Lonnie could be, and could only imagine how he was when it was just the two of them in the home. He was arrogant and selfish and stupid.

And it was then, more than ever before, with her daughter in the room putting up some poster on the wall that Joyce’s heart ached for all those missed years.

“Are you still in touch with your old roommate, Natasha?” Joyce asked, folding a pair of jeans over as she looked up at her daughter. Joyce had taken over folding and putting clothes away while Y/N was getting her room set up just so.

“I sent her a letter explaining that I wouldn’t be coming back to school and I hope her roommate this year Francesca is neater than I was. But we were never really the best of friends.” Y/N shrugged, playing with the binding of one of her books as she found it a spot on the shelf.

“And she’s how you met Billy, Max’s step-brother?”

“Yeah, they used to go out. But neither of them were really reliable. Sometimes Billy stood her up. Sometimes she stood him up, even if it was just for retaliation for him missing a date.” Y/N turned her head to look at her mom. She sighed as she rubbed her dust covered hands over her borrowed pair of pants. “Do you think he’s as bad as everyone’s told me?”

Joyce stopped mid fold and looked over at her daughter. She shrugged, shaking her head as she continued her previously forgotten action. “I can’t say I’ve actually met him, so I wouldn’t know.”

Y/N nodded her head, a bit deflated in that. It was hard to put the Billy she’d known in California to the asshole step brother of Max she’d heard about. Because, sure, the Billy she’d known in California was a dick. He slept around and did what he wanted, but he wasn’t too terrible. Billy had been reckless ( like a lot of people were ) and he thought the world was his and his alone and made no point in hiding that. But that wasn’t all there was to him either. She had seen him in softer states too, in a less “big man in charge” state of being.

Joyce must have taken note on the fact that Y/N was lost in her thoughts as she had made her way to her daughter’s side undetected and put a hand on Y/N’s shoulder with a soft smile as her daughter jumped to look at her. “I think they’re just worried about you. And I know you can take care of yourself, but with everything that’s happened,” Joyce paused, her head dropping down as flashes of what they’d been through popped into her mind. It was her daughter taking her hand that brought her back from the thoughts and she spoke again, “but you can’t blame them for being worried.”

Y/N nodded slowly and sighed, “I just hope that the next time I say anything about him they won’t jump down my throat again. I get it at this point.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Joyce said softly, pulling her daughter into a hug. She wished she had a solution to what was going on, but she didn’t. There wasn’t really any advice she could offer except just wait it out and hold out hope that her brothers ( and the others ) stopped talking about it with her after some time. “Just give it time, I’m sure something else will come up.”

A couple of hours later the school day was out and Y/N and Joyce were in the living room watching some after school special and laughing together over some popcorn as the Byers boys walked in the door.

“We had to go to school while you two just sat and did this all day?” the way Jonathan said it was much more teasing than angry or annoyed as he took a handful of popcorn and sat down on the couch next to his sister and leaned forward to talk to Joyce. “Can I borrow the car tonight to take Nancy to the movies and dinner?”

“So long as you take Will to the Wheeler’s house on your way. The kids are having a game night.” Joyce said, turning her head to her kids and smiling. Simple moments like this, all four of them cramped onto the couch, were what she was most excited about now.

“Hey, did you bring my homework from class?”

Jonathan shrugged, “Teacher’s said someone else got it before I did.”

Jonathan had taken Will to the Wheeler’s and gone to pick up Nancy not too long before another car pulled into the drive. Joyce had been preparing dinner for her and Y/N, so Y/N answered the door.

“Hey Robin!” Y/N smiled, opening the door for the other to enter.

“Hey Y/N. You weren’t in class, so I grabbed some notes for you and the homework. Plus, we’ve got to run lines for Monday’s class so I figured it would be easier if I had all the rest of your stuff too.” Robin said, holding out a folder full of papers toward Y/N.

“Oh, cool. Thanks. My mom’s making dinner, did you want to stay and we can run lines after we eat?” she put down the notes on the coffee table and turned around to call for Joyce, who popped her head away from the stove. “Mom, is it okay if my friend stays for dinner? We’ve got to run lines for our drama class.”

“Of course it’s alright!” Joyce exclaimed, wiping her hands off on her pants before coming into the living room and holding out her hand, “It’s nice to meet one of Y/N’s friends from school.”

Robin had her coat half shrugged off, so she quickly finished shrugging the fabric off her shoulders and into her arms before shaking the older woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Byers.”

It was surprising how comfortable it felt to have a friend in the house. Y/N had rarely had friends over growing up, until she was away at boarding school where it was easy to get together with other girls in the dormitories for sleepovers, or going out for dinner. And she’d worried about having friends over, even if she felt comfortable with Will and his friends ( who were over quite a lot ), she wondered what it would be like to have her own friends over.

The three women made their way to the kitchen and Y/N finished setting the table as Joyce continued to stir at the pasta on the stovetop. Robin was filling Y/N in on what she’d missed at school that day, talking mostly about the class they shared together and how the drama teacher had almost lost the assignment sheets and had to leave the classroom twice before she remembered where she put it.

The whole conversation throughout the dinner was easy and it made Y/N feel even more at home than she had been feeling. Joyce seemed happy too, excited that her daughter had made a friend in school with only being there for a short period of time. It was nice that she got along with someone and it wasn’t just the people who she already knew.

Robin had been nervous about going over to the Byers house to give Y/N her homework, having made a last minute choice to go to the attendance office to get Y/N’s schedule and go looking for her classes impulsively at the end of the day. But she’d still done it, and she was glad she did since the dinner was nice and she didn’t feel nervous after the first couple of questions.

The girls excused themselves from the table when Joyce insisted they go work on the homework, and Y/N grabbed the folder from the coffee table before heading back to lead Robin to her bedroom. Flipping on the light, she hopped onto her bed. “I know, it’s still a bit messy but my father only just sent me everything. You’re like the first person to see my room. I wanted to ask to paint it a different color but I figured we’d already done so much.” Y/N rambled a bit as she shuffled through the papers and found the drama assignment. Looking up she spotted Robin still standing in the doorway. “Come and take a seat, Robin.” she laughed. “You need to tell me what we’re doing anyway.”

Robin nodded and sat down on Y/N’s bed, peering over her shoulder and looking at the assignment sheet. She pointed to one of the scenes noted on the paper, tapping as she spoke, “We’ve got this one, A Doll’s House.” she hummed and took the paper out of Y/N’s hands effectively taking control and Y/N watched as she flipped through the packet to get to the correct scene explanation before turning around and grabbing her copy of the play from her backpack.

Y/N looked over the packet and nodded. She was familiar with the play, enough to know what it was about but she had yet to read it through. It had been one of the plays her school had put on, and she’d helped with some behind the scenes work. “I gotta be honest, I’m not really a center stage kind of person.” Y/N said with a laugh, shaking her head.

“Me either, but ‘least it’s not in front of everybody in the school.” Robin said, holding out her copy for both of them to read from.

By the time they had the entire scene nearly memorized it was later than they expected and Joyce had to poke her head in to tell the girls it was time for Robin to go home. Though she did say that the girls should get together another time for an actual sleepover, Joyce insisted she didn’t feel right with the last minute arrangement since she didn’t know Robin’s parents well enough.

The girls said goodnight, Robin left and Y/N went back to her room to work on the rest of her homework before she went to bed for the night. She had to admit it was a bit weird sleeping in a bed rather than on the couch as she had been. It was far more comfortable, but it was weird. She was back in her childhood home, in her childhood room, though it looked different than she’d expected it to look. It felt different, both in a good way and a bad way.

Good to be home, and she felt comfortable. But she was still dealing with all the news she’d been told that first day she’d come home. If she were having nightmares and wandering thoughts about it all and she’d simply heard the tales, she couldn’t help but wonder what her brothers, their friends, her mother, all thought since they’d all lived through it.

She worried that something might happen that she wouldn’t be prepared for. But, how exactly could you prepare for something supernatural like they’d explained?

You can’t.

#stranger things x reader #byers!reader #stranger things x you #robin buckley #joyce byers #x reader #the prodigal sister

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cardandpixel · 4 years ago

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RocketBook Flip - a rare review and it’s not a game!

Before I go any further, I feel I must point out that I don’t have any financial connection to RocketBook whatsoever – this isn’t a piece that was requested or courted by RocketBook or affiliates and I’m not receiving any reward or sponsorship either in product or direct payment for this article. I just like the damn thing and love it when an innovative piece of tech (in this case quite low key) just works. Hi I’m Paul, and I have a bit of a problem with notebooks – A4 lined, sketch, reporters, Black & Reds (ohhhh the sheer number of B&Rs), goofy ones, serious work ones, battered ones, pristine ‘for best only’ ones – and they all fill at an alarming rate. I make notes on everything. Working as a sound engineer and designer, there’s always mix notes, soundscape plots, ideas, VO notes and scripts, SFX ideas etc etc. At home it’s a very different story – it’s much worse. Game notes; blog notes; hurriedly scribbled quiz questions spurred by watching another episode of Mental Floss’ 500 facts about cheese; RPG notes and story ideas; my own script writing; world building; sketches; other creative ideas; song/music notes and ideas; and that’s before we get to to-do lists; and the dreaded ‘things I must remember’. So my journal life is many, varied and plenty. The usual issue is… ‘what frakking journal did I put that amazing idea in????’, and that’s way before we get to the utter horror that is possibly losing a whole journal or forgetting to bring one home from work. I’m 53, I forget more than I recall, and journals help bring some semblance of order to a massively chaotic and fertile brain. What I’ve needed for a long time is some way of organising all this info or centralising it in some way. Sure I’ve looked at apps – I used Things, Evernote, Notes, and One Note for years, and they are really, really good, but they relied on either having a charged device exactly when I need it (yeah – me too) or net access, which for a new-ish theatre, is surprisingly a bit of an issue at work. And the most important part – I actually enjoy the physical act of handwriting long-hand. I still write actual physical letters to people, it’s adorable and a bit creepy in this age, but I call it charming and leave it at that. Handwriting, for me, allows me time to think and process in a way that typing just doesn’t. Handwriting is slower, I rarely cross anything out, and so I always have the whole of the thought. So what I’ve ideally wanted for years, was a reliable way of organising all my notes and storing them electronically so I have access even without the actual journal, with OCR so they’re editable, and still being a tactile handwritten experience. I’m naturally a sceptic (I actually subscribe to Fortean Times – yeah – I card carry!) and so online ads and particularly FaceAche ads are a field day for critical thinking triggers. I don’t think I’ve ever received from Wish, exactly what I ordered from Wish. And so when an ad from RocketBook constantly kept popping up on my timeline a few weeks ago, I was naturally “it’ll never work” But their website looked legit enough – they had a dedicated UK shop, it was relatively steep to buy in but not so wild that if it didn’t work I wouldn’t be crying too much about the money wasted, and at the end of the day it was a 10th the price of a ReMarkable 2 which is actually what I thought would solve my problem. I’m furloughed at the mo and though I could argue the case for £300+ notebook (test me, I could), I just couldn’t justify it now. And RocketBook had a good summer intro offer. I ordered on the Wednesday, and the impressively glitzy and graphic-design-playbook poly package was dropped on my doorstep just 2 days later by my cheery postie who yelled up the drive “Package for ya, looks very exciting!!!!” I like that our postal service is still invested in the hopes and dreams of their customers. It was exciting. All the instructions for getting started with my new Teal RocketBook A4 Flip were right there before you even open it. The main body houses the pad and a cleaning cloth, and a clever little side pocket houses the supplied Pilot Frixion pen.

RocketBooks come in several models, all configured slightly differently. I have the Flip which is a top spiral-bound softback pad with 21 double sided ‘pages’ giving 42 pages in total. The Flip has lined paper one side, and dot paper on the reverse (great for D&D maps, impromptu tables, mixer channel plots etc)

DELIVERY & FIRST IMPRESSIONS The pads are nicely made, with sturdy covers (available in some really nice colours too) and a solid, thick plastic ring binding. Initially, The RocketBook does feel a bit odd. Its ‘pages’ are actually a synthetic polyester blend and feel quite shiny to the touch. The sort of surface you just instantly feel is not going to be great for ink! Each page is edge-to-edge lined or dotted with a heavy black border. At the bottom is a prominent QR code used for scanning and some very feint icons. These 7 icons are the key to the ease of use of the RocketBook series. But more later.

THE APP

The pads work with a companion app, that is absolutely free and available for Apple & Android. In fact, RB even do downloadable printable pages so you can try the whole system absolutely free before you buy – I didn’t, I just bought one, y’know. The app allows you to set up your destination locations, your preferences and does the actual scanning. Just one quick note, I have the app on both my phone and iPad and had to set-up the app the same for both, there appears to be no way of swapping preference settings between devices, though I can see why this may be intentional.

Currently, the RocketBook allows you to choose from the following locations to send files to: GoogleDrive, box, EverNote, DropBox, slack, OneNote, iCloud, OneDrive as well as simply to an email (or multiple) addresses and iMessage. Impressively, these are not fixed either, so you could choose your 7 destinations to be 7 email addresses of team members. These 7 locations are the icons at the bottom of each page. To select a destination for your file, you just make a mark in that icon box (tick, circle, something unsavoury) and that page will be sent to whichever you select. This makes the system very flexible indeed as not every page is necessarily sent to every destination. You always decide every time you fill a page. Change your mind on a second revision? No problem, add or change icons at any time and re-upload.

There’s a really handy table on the inside front cover for you to note what icon sends what where. This is also wipeable, so can be changed anytime.

I have mine set by default to:

Rocket > main email address (either as PDF, JPG, OCR embedded or as separate txt file)

Diamond > GoogleDrive (you can specify exactly what folder too)

Apple > iMessage

Bell > OneNote

That actually still leaves me 3 spare: shamrock; star; and horseshoe.

The app took me maybe 20mins to set-up, that included decision time for destinations and setting up a few target folders. It also included a few ‘test firings’. I didn’t get everything right first time and a few things didn’t send, but crucially, a tiny bit of digging revealed very simple troubleshooting (including the aforementioned issue with no sync’ing of phone and iPad), and all in I was finding the files in all the right destinations within about 30 mins. The website, FAQs and community are immensely helpful with any other issues as well. I had a tiny issue with OneNote seeming to take ages to sync, but I think that’s an issue with my OneNote settings, everything else was almost instantaneous. You can also handily set the app to auto-send as soon as it scans, or allow for manual review.

CLEAN UP ON AISLE ROCKETPAD The main reason I wanted to look at the RocketBook was the issue of reusability. My journal shenanigans are by no means the biggest ecological disaster on the planet, but if we are to believe Tesco (who probably issue as many receipts at our local Tesco Express in a day as journals I’ve ever used), every little helps. If I could find an ecologically better solution, I should at least take a look. The RocketPads work by partnering with Pilot pens called Frixion. The really clever bit is RB’s paper technology and how it works with the Frixion ink. At present, the pads only work with the Frixion pens – except the RB Colour which works with Crayola’s dry-erase crayons. When you write on the ‘paper’ with a Frixion pen, it remains wet for a few seconds and then dries pretty quickly. There’s no smudging whatsoever in transit, which is pretty cool. From then on, it may as well be permanent, until you have transmitted your page and decide you don’t want the text anymore. To wipe the page clean, you can dampen the supplied cloth and just wipe the surface clean, it’s weird but it works! But then damp cloth in your bag? So I use kitchen roll to dampen, then wipe dry with theirs. Others even have an adorably kitsch spray bottle in their kit. RB reckon if you are not going to use the pad for a few months, to clean the pages as the ink can get trickier to shift after a long time, but for day-to-day use, I’ve tried writing and wiping well over 20x and the page hasn’t become discoloured or tarnished at all. The only pad different in the range is the Wave which cleans by microwaving! Do NOT do this with any of the others, bad things will happen. The ink doesn’t take scrubbing or any time to come up, I clean my pages in about 10-15s. The page can feel a little tacky when it’s damp, but leave a minute or so and the page will be back to normal. RB do say that odd things can happen if the book is left near a heatsource or in a hot car, vis-à-vis, the ink can completely disappear horrifyingly enough. They say that putting the pen or the pad in the freezer for a little while will actually restore the ink, but I’ve not tried it yet so can’t confirm or deny how that goes. Handy for spies in hot countries though, so there’s another target market. If you are always going to send your pages to the same places, then don’t erase the marked icons, and the page is ready for new notes straight away, otherwise, scrub them too.

I CAN’T READ YOUR WRITING – ARE YOU A DOCTOR? Initially, the RB pads send their files as scans of the pages in high contrast monochrome (colour is available) when you snap the page in the app (which auto-frames for you and takes maybe 10s to capture). The formats are either as images or PDF. If that had been it, I would have been quite happy, but the RB pads have another trick up their sleeve. Firstly, they have a function called ‘Smart Titles’ which allows you to name your files directly from the page by writing a filename between double hashtags ie ## this is my scrawl 24/8/20 ## and the file will pop up in your destinations with the filename “this is my scrawl 24/08/20” – this is insanely handy – there’s no protocol except your own and the hashtags, and it makes your files super easy to search. You can even send groups of pages as a single PDF. But the notebooks go even further. They actually offer full searchable OCR which the app can be set to send embedded in the PDF or image, or more usefully, as a companion separate .txt file. Now, my handwriting isn’t the neatest, but it’s not bad so I was prepared for some editing to be necessary, but impressively again, the OCR was about 90-95% accurate. In a page of text it missed maybe 3 or 4 words and even those not badly. This is all considering their full OCR is still only in beta! It gets confused with diagrams on the page, but that’s to be expected.

Text Generated by OCR: ## Blog post och test Aug 2020 ## This is a little demonstration of the OCR capabilities of the Rocket Book pads and app. I've told the lovely people that the hit rate is about 90-95% so please dant let me down here flip pad. Hopefully the file name will also prove another point further up in the section and not make me look like some charlatan or snake-oil salesman.Hope you enjoyed this demonstrahen, now go away and leave me to write the next great novella.Bye!

HOW MUCH? On average, I pay anywhere from £4-8 for a decent A4 notebook/journal, so at £30-37 (dependent on model), the RocketBook pads are not a whim purchase. That said, I get through a lot of journals in a year, and given that I would expect to easily get 2-3 years out of a RocketBook pad, then I’ve saved money. Will it replace all my notebooks? No. You need to be thinking of carrying this round as a kit: pad, Frixion pen (at least 2), and cloth. RB do a series of portfolio sleeves for the pads but it does push the price up a bit still, but for a rep, engineer or salesperson, this still makes sense. They’re less bulky than a normal A4 pad too. What I would say is Tesco and Sainsbury’s currently stock Frixion pens and at much better prices than buying them from RB directly, I just paid £3 for 3 pens on offer at Tesco compared to £10 from RB. You get one pen with the pad, but you’re going to want more soon, so stock up next time you’re shopping for truffle oil crisps. If you use whiteboards a lot, RB also have you covered. Instead of the pad, £16 will get you a 4 pack of ‘beacons’ – little self-adhesive triangles that effectively do the same thing as the QR code in the pad. You don’t have the icon options obviously, but if you’re looking to distribute quick meeting or group notes, this would be a boon. CONCLUSION Considering this was a fairly speculative purchase on my part, my early experiences with the RocketBook Flip have been really impressive. The flexibility, the ability to store every page in a different location if you really wanted to make it fantastic for organising my notes, which can save me hours of finding the right ^^$&^$&$ notebook in the first place, then scouring that for the one paragraph I was looking for etc etc. The searchable text facility, in-app history for re-sending etc and last but no way least, functional handwriting OCR, makes the RocketBook not only novel, but actually useable! Would I buy another? As a second notebook – yes. I look forward to seeing what the actual longevity of the product is once I come off furlough and start cramming my day bag with all my junk and a notepad again, but yes, I’d probably just have one at home, and one for work, but make the last 5 mins of each day, scanning and sending work notes so I have them with me wherever. Impressively, the RocketBook Flip just works and it works well. ‘Er Across The Table has already sold several folk at her work on the idea and she doesn’t even have one herself yet! I love it. It’s taking a little adjusting to, but it’s all good. The most important thing though is the writing experience, and I have to say, the combination of the Frixion pen/ink and the polymer technology of the Flip, again, just works. It’s smooth, doesn’t skip or smudge for me (I know some right to left users and left handers have reported some issues) and feels great to write on. If anything I have to slow down a bit as the contact is so smooth that your writing can get a bit ahead of you! RocketBook have produced a cracker of a product. It might not seem like much, but if practical working journals are your thing (ie not create and keep things) then I can highly recommend the RocketBook series.

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argumentativeessaythesisideas859 · 4 years ago

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aelaer · 5 years ago

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Whumptober 16: Alt - Winded

Part three of the story I’ve been making with these prompts. Day 9 is part one, and Day 13 is part 2.

No warnings apply for this part. (That will change with part 4 though.)

16. Alt #7: Winded

Back in the day, his mother would have said something along the lines of him being in "quite the pickle". Stephen had absolutely no idea where the absurd saying came from, but it seemed an appropriate statement for the situation as he was trying to avoid the line of thinking that went to "completely fucked".

So. Quite the pickle.

A quick check to make sure that no one was prodding his mind (they weren't) later, Stephen set to mentally laying out the situation before him.

At the moment, he was more or less bound immobile, muted, and within a seal that made magic all the more difficult to do; he recognized some of the runes, even if they were laid out in a manner he was not entirely familiar with.

Not great, admittedly.

However, he had thought of something resembling a plan for getting help for himself before he submitted to the occultists. He knew the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj were good, but speeding the rescue process along was no bad thing. But with that threat made against his Earth, it was now rather imperative that he made his "something of a plan" work; it was not just his life on the line anymore.

And he needed to do it without drawing the attention of the two guards. The best way to do that, he supposed, was to appear as if he wasn't doing anything.

He could do that.

And so Stephen closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, to appear as if he were meditating (or had given up, but he wasn't sure if other Stephen Stranges around the multiverse were the sorts not to give up, either, and had shown their stubbornness to these occultists). Whatever the case, he wanted to appear docile and nonthreatening to the two sorcerers watching him as he did his damnedest to work around the seal.

Once he cracked through the seal, he would have a chance to attempt his "something of a plan". This plan involved using the connection the Cloak had with its chosen sorcerer; for inexplicable reasons, the Cloak was able to find him across great distances when on the same physical plane, so long as nothing was muting his magical signature. They never fully tested out the distance, but he was fairly certain it was over one hundred miles on the same physical plane.

He also had never tested the connection properly across dimensions, but he knew the innate magic of his reality like the back of his hand; he just hoped that his bond with the Cloak made finding his reality across the multiverse all the more quicker. From there, he'd speak with the first master he found about his situation and, more importantly, the threat against Earth.

His plan would have been a good deal simpler without the seal, so it was rather unfortunate they thought of it. It would take time to figure it out, and even more time to slip past it without alerting the other two sorcerers. He wasn't sure how much time he had.

Despite his racing thoughts, he kept within a calm, meditative position, almost appearing as if he had drifted off, and he slowly unraveled the logic behind the seal to slip past it.

————

He found a possible solution. Unfortunately, said possible solution was going to exert a lot of energy and he could show nothing. While he could feel the sorcerers guarding him grow more complacent the longer he remained still, he was sure that would change the moment anything remotely different happened.

Stephen carefully gathered the energy about him with the barest twitches of his fingers, the very little he was able to move in his fetters; he didn't hear anything from the two watching him, so he continued to gather at the same pace. It was slow, achingly slow, but he would only have one chance at this, he was certain.

The long minutes passed on until he felt he had enough energy to break the seal and come through to his astral form. All he had to do was push himself out without making any physical movements. He took in a silent, deep breath, and then pushed himself through the seal and below, under the floor to the level beneath him.

There was a floor beneath him. And it landed him in a storage closet. Thank the Vishanti for small mercies.

The effort to break the seal left him panting even in his astral form, but there was no time to waste; he needed to find his Earth and he needed to do so now. Stephen closed his eyes and reached out to the same dimensional energy he drew from for his own powers, searching for that signature he so well knew, looking for anything in particular that stood out within the millions of lines of energy that made up the multiverse.

After some time, he saw one of the lines pulsing softly in its light in ways the others did not. He immediately reached out to it and—

—universes rushed past him as he travelled well beyond the speed of sound, the speed of light, too quickly for his mind to even contemplate as worlds both great and terrible blurred in colors he could not begin to distinguish—

—until his astral form abruptly stopped in the same warehouse he was just in however long ago it was. He took a moment to catch his breath, unable to really do much except be as the rest of the world caught up to him. He shut his eyes until the dizziness abated a bit, then opened them again to look around.

Laura and the kids weren't there anymore. But crawling around the warehouse were several men and women in suits— they definitely looked like S.H.I.E.L.D.— and one of them was talking to a very stoic-faced Wong. And Wong abruptly looked in his direction, eyes slightly narrowing. Without a word he prepared a shield, and the agent beside him immediately drew out a gun. Stephen wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Suddenly a streak of red came from around the corner from behind Wong, and oh, the Cloak was still here, too. It clearly recognized his presence before Wong did, considering how it was circling his form in a way that reminded him of an overly excited puppy.

At the Cloak's reaction, Wong slowly lowered his hands, and his stoic expression wavered as something cautiously hopeful took over. "Stephen?" he called.

Right, time to make an appearance. It took a good deal more energy than he was used to needing, but he managed to break through the astral plane and show himself to the physical world. It was exhausting.

Wong quickly crossed the distance, a frown across his features. "You idiot," he said in greeting.

"Nice to see you, too," he breathed. Wong's frown deepened at his clear exhaustion. "I don't know how long I can keep this up— I slipped through the seal but the distance is something else."

"Where are you?"

" 'nother dimension. They made runes— here." He carefully sketched the runes he saw them perform before they had left Earth, and Wong quickly followed his gestures to copy it as an illusion made with his own magic.

Wong frowned at his own handiwork. "I recognize these runes, but not the spell. Hamir may have a better understanding."

"You'll need everyone," Stephen pressed on. "Maybe backup from the Avengers. There's at least two dozen, maybe more. I couldn't scout it out. And they want to destroy our Earth."

"Of course they do," Wong replied dryly.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. will get torn apart," he said, glancing at the agent.

"The woman, that doctor, called 911 before I got here," Wong said, and Stephen could tell, despite his unflappable delivery, that Wong was not very happy with having to deal with the government agents. "What do they want with you?"

Stephen made a face. "Sacrifice me to some fictional eldritch horror. Apparently one of my counterparts in the multiverse supposedly pissed it off." He could feel a tug upon his astral form, beckoning him back to his body. He grimaced and fought against it.

Wong actually frowned. "What did they call it?"

"Uh—" He grimaced as it tugged harder. "Shuma-Gorath."

Stephen really, really didn't like the fact that Wong actually blanched at the name. He didn't like that at all.

"We'll need backup," Wong said in reply.

"I— I can't be here much longer. It's too much for my body," he said, grimacing against another tug.

"We'll get there as fast as we can, Stephen."

"I can't fight directly against them— get them first. Stop them." And at the next tug, he let go of his connection to Earth.

The flight back to his body was near instantaneous, and Stephen's eyes flew open as he inhaled sharply through his nostrils. He was back in his physical form.

He sent a surreptitious look towards the guards; one of them was now staring directly at him. He straightened in his restraints and shot him an equally cold look, letting his eyes say what he was prevented from saying aloud. The other sorcerer sneered at him in return.

They didn't seem to suspect anything. Good; then there was actually a chance that he would get out of this alive.

#whumptober2019 #altno.7 #winded #stephen strange #wong #doctor strange #doctor strange fanfic #my writing #my fanfiction

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baeklooming-day · 6 years ago

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Fleeting | Baekhyun

Summary: You lead a double life. For everyone else, you are the pretty girl with a great sense of fashion who works at Sephora. But it isn't your only job. For the other one you require only two things: the collection of weapons you keep in your closet - and zero emotions.

ft. Luhan

Genre: assassin!au, mafia!au, street racer!au, fluff, angst

Word count: 4.5k

playlist

"Really, Y/N? You know I love you, but lately I feel like the only reason you call me is for you to ask for favors."

"That's not true! Pretty please Sujin! I will be just a few minutes late."

"Hahaha! Good one."

"Sujin. I really need to take care of something right now. Will you help me out one more time?"

"..."

"Sujin!"

"Okay, okay. I'll cover for you. But, whatever it is, hurry up and come here right after, understood?"

"Of course. See you in a bit!"

You hung up.

Sujin was your coworker and friend. She totally adored you, and maybe that's the only reason why in the end she always let slide you being late for work. Well, you weren't always late. Sometimes it just happened for the problem to have to be solved during your usual work hours at Sephora.

Like today.

Your grip on your rifle tightened.

Easy. Focus.

After all, you've done it many times.

In this long time you've worked for Zhang Yixing you've never seen him as nervous as that evening.

"Listen Y/N, you do know the CEO of Kang Corporation, is that right?"

"Yeah, I mean, not personally but I know who he is. Kang-something...?"

"Yes, him. Listen. You also happen to know who Jackson Wang is, right? The CEO of Wang Enterprises?

"Yes-"

"Alright, here is your task."

He quickly slid a piece of paper in your direction.

You picked it and started to read.

You snorted.

"Why could I see something like this coming? It was so obvious. I assume our big CEO Mr. Wang wants all the power and glory to himself. Is he actually aware what might happen if suddenly the second big CEO disappears from the scene? Everyone knows those two don't particularly love each other."

"This is none of our concern, Y/N. Make sure you take care of this."

You paused for a brief moment.

"How much?"

Yixing hesitated. Woah there, you thought. So it is the highest price I've ever got.

"10 Million American dollars." He said, not breaking eye contact with you.

"Woah."

It always amused you, how desperate some people could be only to take down somebody who wasn't doing in their favor.

"'Woah' is a good word to describe it. Anyway, Y/N, I trust you to solve it without any complications as always."

"Will do, boss!"

With that being said, you directed yourself to the exit where you paused, only to quickly turn around and send Yixing a childish 'bang!' with a finger gun.

So now, you found yourself sitting on the roof of the Plaza Hotel - it would be quite romantic to say the least, if it wasn't for the purpose you were there.

You were a paid murderer. You killed people in an exchange for money.

Your current target was a certain Kang Seojun - the CEO of one of the biggest corporations in the city.

It wasn't your first time that you had to eliminate some important persona. You already had a minister, a few influential politicians and even a famous actress on your account.

It was always the same process. Find the target, observe them for a while, get some more information and finally, attack.

You adjusted your rifle.

To be quite honest, you've never been a fan of making a 'task' look like an accident. This regards arranging a car accident or literally setting the target's house on fire.

No, it was too much work than it already was.

So you just sticked to the classic solution.

Right now you were waiting for Kang Seojun to arrive at the Corporation's building right next to Plaza where their company meeting took place.

"Where on earth is this man", you mumbled to yourself. "If I don't kill you today, Sujin will kill me for being late again."

While you still waited, you looked at your own reflection in the small pocket mirror you always carried with you.

Your dark red lipstick and eyebrows were perfect as always. At least you looked good doing bad stuff.

Then you heard a vehicle pulling to stop and muffled voices in the distance that was separating you from the street beneath you.

You immediately straightened.

You could see the car's door open and a blonde head peeking out.

There he is.

He surely took his sweet time. Ironically, he didn't have much of it left.

Don't move a muscle. Concentrate.

He was now slowly heading to the entrance of the building. You had to act quickly and effectively.

Breath in. Breath out. It's a piece of cake.

Your fingers carefully clasped around the trigger.

"Bang."

You shoot.

It didn't take long for the hell to break loose. But by now, you were accustomed to it. After all, that part of your job was always the same as well - after having eliminated the target, you had to escape as fast as you could. Without being seen by anyone.

You had to have your eyes wide open. And you had to be careful.

Very, very careful.

You knew exactly what happened to people like you who were being careless about the whole thing. So already in your early training days you decided to never put your guard down.

The moment you entered Sephora you were met with Sujin putting a new delivery of Nars foundation onto the perfectly cleaned shelf.

To be honest, you actually really enjoyed working there. In your free time - time, when with a gun hidden in your boot you didn't run down the stairs of hotels, skyscrapers, apartment buildings, you name it - you liked playing with makeup and going shopping.

You could say it was a little benefit for you. You had to seem innocent, powerless. You had to be like a normal girl.

Well, at least pretend to be one.

"Hey, Sujin!"

"Finally! I would say 'right on time', but..."

"I'm sorry?"

She looked at you with an unreadable expression on her pretty face.

"Come on, help me sort it all." She pointed to the big box that rested beside her leg.

"Oh my." Your eyes scanned the new arrivals. "These are all so nice."

"Y/N, I know what you are thinking right now, come on. You basically have half of this store at home, you do not need another bottle of foundation."

You chuckled. "I didn't say anything!"

There was silence for a moment before Sujin spoke again.

"Actually, Y/N, are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

There it was. The question. You knew that one day she will completely see through you and get it that you were lying all along the way.

You always told her poor excuses for how come you never go out on any dates and aren't particularly interested in boys in general.

Because what else could you tell her?

You couldn't get too attached. Being who you were, didn't include love. You couldn't show anything that could be easily used against you.

"No, why? And on top of that, I already told you I'm too busy for a boyfriend." She looked unconvinced.

"What about Baekhyun?"

"What about him?"

You could expect her to ask about Baekhyun. Except for Sujin, he was your only friend. As if it wasn't obvious by now that you didn't have many friends. The less, the better, you always told yourself. In the end you were risking their safety as well. If you ever got discovered…

No. It won't happen.

Not again.

"Oh, don't be like that Y/N. Even a blind person could tell he likes you. He's liked you since you moved here! Why don't you just give it a chance? You two would be so cute together-"

"Sujin." You paused her. "Please, just leave it already, will you? Me and Baekhyun are good friends, but nothing more. Besides, Baekhyun is-"

"I'm what?"

You froze. Speaking of the devil. How did he even manage to sneak up on you like that everytime you least expected it?

"Baekhyun!" Sujin stood up to give him a quick hug. "Good to see you, how are things going?"

"I'm not complaining." He chuckled at her enthusiasm. "I see you two have some work to do."

"Just the usual. What brings you here?"

"Actually, I'm here for Y/N. Can I borrow her for a sec?"

You looked up at him from the foundation box you were sitting by.

His black hair was all messy, yet still managed to looked presentable. He was dressed in his standard outfit - plain white tee, black leather jacket and black ripped jeans, which, to be honest, were a little more than worn out.

Any other guy would look ridiculous, so why did he look so good?

Damn you, Baekhyun.

You stood up to properly face him.

"Sure, let's go."

He flashed you a wide smile before turning around and heading for the exit with you following behind him.

"So, what is it you wanted to talk about Baek?", you asked once you were in the main venue of the mall.

"To tell the truth, I just wanted to see you."

Is this guy being serious right now?

Every other girl like Sujin, would probably think it was the cutest thing for a boy to do. But you weren't like the other girls.

"Aww, could it possibly be that you missed me?"

"Maybe."

"You literally just saw me yesterday, Baekhyun."

Well, that was very true, you two used to quickly meet at the crossing in the morning before work quite often.

"Oh c'mon, you know what I'm trying to say." He lightly poked your arm. "We aren't spending so much time together anymore. And you always tell me you're busy. If I was somebody else I would even think you are avoiding me or something."

He didn't say it in an accusing tone but you knew he was partly right. Baekhyun just happened to be around almost always. It would be a lie if you said you didn't enjoy his company, because you did. But in your opinion, that alone was already one step too far. You preferred to turn him down and have him upset with you for a couple of hours than to risk being seen by someone who could use that information for certain purposes, or turn him down just because you had to take care of something at that time. Of course you told him you were busy, which also was true. But it seemed like it looked like a one big lie to him.

"Look, I know, but it's really not like that. If I say I'm busy, I really am. You know I wouldn't lie to you like that.

"So..." Baekhyun looked at you with puppy eyes. "Are you free this afternoon?" Another feature about him that honestly annoyed you, because you just couldn't help it but melt, was when he used that puppy look on you.

"Yeah, sure." Those words left your mouth before you could even think about it.

Dammit. You really needed to do some practising in resisting that boy's requests.

You found yourself sitting on the rooftop of an apartment building sipping on a big cup of Starbucks coffee. The spot was lovely - actually, it was your favourite spot in the city back then when you first moved in into your apartment. It was also the spot where Baekhyun brought you when you hung out for the first time. Of course it wasn't a date - none of the times you two hung out was. At least you wouldn't call it in that manner. Maybe Sujin would, but in her eyes everything had a different meaning.

Baekhyun was sitting right beside you and sipping on his own cotton candy frappuccino while gazing onto some unindentified point in the space.

Funny, you thought. He usually was the one to talk, he rarely got so quiet when you two were together.

You turned to him and sipped as loud as you could to get his attention.

"Hmm?"

"Something happened?" You brought your attention back to your cup. "It's strange to see you shut up like that."

"Nah, it's nothing." He hesitated for a brief moment but then spoke again. "Actually, Y/N. There is something I've been meaning to ask you, but..."

Oh no. Sujin couldn't be possibly right, could she? Shit.

"I mean, for the past two years that we've been best friends I don't really know much about you when I think of it, and it just kind of bothers me."

Oh my god. You let the breath you didn't realise you were holding. So he wasn't about to ask you out. Good.

But what were you going to tell him now anyway?

"Uhm, what do you exactly mean?"

Baekhyun shrugged.

"Besides that you are eyebrows-obsessed, speak more languages than any other person I know and can't get through the day without coffee or chocolate I don't know nothing about the times before I met you and where you came from, who your parents are..." He glanced at you.

You gulped. Why did he suddenly want to know all of this?

"I don't know who your parents are either. And before moving here my life was just a little, hm, complicated to say the least." You carelessly run your hand through your locks hoping that he won't dig any deeper.

"Fine, let's leave the parents thing out." Now he was directly looking you in the eyes. "But what do you exactly mean by complica-"

Buzzzzzzz.

Buzzzzzzz, buzzzzzzz.

He didn't get to finish the sentence when both your phones started vibrating in your pockets.

Baekhyun took his phone and looked and the bright screen.

"Aish, sorry I have to take this." He gave you an apologetic look.

"No worries, I have to take mine as well. Might be something important at work."

You smiled before quickly staying up and taking a little distance to finally slide your finger across the screen to accept the call.

"What the actual hell Yixing? I told you not to call me during the day!" You were careful to not be too loud, just in case.

But still, you completed your task just as he wanted, so what could it possibly be now?

"What-" His voice on the other line sounded a little bit irritated. "Would you quit shouting like that? Geez, my poor ear…"

"Look, I'm with a friend right now, so hurry up and tell me why you're calling before he hears everything."

"I'm calling you because I need you to show up at my office, like, right now." He paused before quickly adding "very urgent."

Sometimes you really just wanted to throw a shoe in his face.

"Yeah, fine. Already on my way."

You hung up.

When you were about to go back to where you and Baekhyun were sitting just a few moments ago, you saw him approaching you first.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, but I have to go." He started to nervously scratch his neck.

"I have to go too. Something came up and they need me at... uhm, work." You wanted to sound confident but your voice sounded like anything else but that to you.

"The universe just wants to keep us apart for some reason, huh?" Baekhyun smiled ironically before quickly hugging you and making himself on his way.

Keep us apart, you thought to yourself. Maybe this is just the way things should be.

You arrived at Yixing's office not more than 15 minutes after you said goodbye to Baekhyun. You entered without knocking and immediately sat on the chair in front of his desk.

"So, what is this all about? Everything went smoothly in the morning, the guy is still very dead."

Yixing looked up from his laptop.

"I know, but this is not about that."

You raised your eyebrows.

"I just got a phone call. I don't know how to explain this, this is the first time a client requests something like that, though." He furrowed his eyebrows.

"What exactly is this request?"

"The client asked to meet you before you complete what they want you to do. Tomorrow, Cloud 9 at 11 o'clock."

What?

"Cloud 9? That fancy café on the 22nd floor? Pardon me, but what for?"

Yixing raised his palms. "I seriously don't know Y/N. They only said they wanted to reveal to you some particular information on the target. Other than that, they didn't name any price, so I suppose that's what they want to discuss with you personally."

"Well. Well, alright. How will I recognise them? Is it a man or a woman?"

"It was a woman's voice on the phone, and she didn't say anything about her appearance except for short blonde hair. She said she will recognise you."

"Fine, so be it." You nodded. "Can I go now?"

Yixing waved his hand in the yeah-go-away manner. "Yes, dismissed."

A client wanting to meet up with you? Well that was new.

The next day, you were preparing yourself for the "meeting". That woman said she would recognise you, right? But wait. How was she going to recognise you? And how did she even know how you look like?

Hold on, calm down.

After all you were pretty popular among the more significant people from dark businesses. There's no need to invent things.

You didn't really have a plan what to wear, so you decided you will keep it simple but with style. You went for black ripped jeans, white off-shoulder top and your casual white sneakers.

Perfect. None would even think of who you actually were, which was always your kind of a motto.

When you arrived at Cloud 9 it was 10:45. The client should appear soon as well. You walked in and took a seat at a table possibly far from unsuspecting ears.

The Cloud 9 café was a really nice place. It was on the 22nd floor, so it had a wonderful view at the entire city. The floor was a white marble while the walls where in warm shade of deep chocolate brown. The café alone was in shape of a circle, so it basically had glass all around, through which you could admire the beautiful view.

You took a look on your phone. 11:10. The client is not here yet. But they said 11 o'clock, right? Do they really think they can just keep you waiting like this? Instead, your screen lit up once again with an incoming call from Baekhyun.

That boy.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Y/N! Where are you right now?"

"I'm supposed to meet up with someone but they're already 10 minutes late." You stopped. You shouldn't be just spilling everything so carelessly to Baekhyun.

"What? With who?"

"Uhm, none in particular. Work, you know. She's a... she's the boss of Sephora on the other side of the town, you know. We wanted to discuss which new brands our both stores could take to... to widen the whole thing. Or something." You weren't convincing even yourself, but scratch that right now.

"Oh." If he didn't believe you he didn't show it. "Uhm, so, did you say they were late? Where are you?" His voice sounded as if he had been running.

"I'm at Cloud 9. Why?"

"I, well, I just happen to be nearby so I can keep you a little company while you wait?"

"Yeah, alright. I'm hanging up now."

You looked at your screen once again. 11:20. Was ist some kind of a joke? Why is this woman, or whoever that client is, already 20 minutes late?

You decided to wait another 15 minutes, and if they won't show up, you will go straight up to Yixing and tell him to stop playing some stupid tricks on you, or whichever ridiculousness that was, which was just taking place.

You couldn't get more annoyed because just then you noticed Baekhyun's black fringe peeking inside. You waved him over.

When he approached your table, you also noticed that he was breathing heavily, just as if he really had been running.

"Woah, there. Are you running away from someone?"

His eyes immediately widened. "What? No, no."

"You look like you just ran in a marathon."

"Well, thanks Y/N." He glanced at you with a pout. He always looked like a little boy when he did that. "Anyway, how long are you planning to wait? When were they supposed to be here?"

You frowned. "They were supposed to be here at 11, but looks like I have been forgotten." You looked over to your phone for the 10th time. 11:28. Really?

You glanced at Baekhyun. His cheeks were red and he was licking his lips nervously. Something clearly was going on, and you wanted to know what.

You put your arms on the table.

"Baekhyun, come on, tell me what-"

You didn't get the chance to finish your sentence when there was a loud BANG! just a few meters away from you.

You both snapped your heads in the direction where the noise came from.

There was a man wearing a long black coat along with the rest of his clothes as well as his hair which also were all black.

He was holding a gun in his right Hand.

But then he turned around and you saw his face.

You knew that face.

And apparently, he recognised you. But also, his gaze seemed to waver on Baekhyun as well with a spark of recognition too.

You quickly glanced at Baekhyun.

His eyes were wide and his expression blank.

Then the man spoke.

"Well, well, well. What do we got here?" He looked around himself and at the frightened people who were probably praying for their life. "To tell the truth, this doesn't concern any of you here, so will you gather your asses and fuck off before I change my mind and kill y'all?"

The people started rushing out of the café making as little noise as possible, probably terrified of the thought that that crazy man in all black could start shooting anytime.

"And don't even think of going to the police! If you still want your brains in your heads, just saying!" The man called behind them, waving with his gun.

Shit. This was all so confusing that all you could do was to look back and forth at the man and at Baekhyun, who, still motionless, sat beside you.

The man took a few steps forward before speaking again.

"No, this is just too good to be true. Honestly, I would never, ever think that our two delinquents know each other." He was now grinning maniacally, which to be completely honest, creeped you out like nothing before.

But wait, did he just say "our two delinquents"?

"What do you want Tao?" You and Baekhyun spoke at the exact same time.

What?

You both looked at each other. "You know him?!" Baekhyun pointed at the man called Tao.

"Yes, but how do you know him?!" Now you also raised your finger to point at Tao.

Then you heard a very loud laugh.

"Seriously, stop!" Tao was rubbing his wet eyes. "Ah, this is so good. You have no idea who he is - and you, you have no fucking idea who she is!"

Okay, now it was getting really sick.

"Care to explain what's going on?" You glared at Tao.

"But of course. I'm here because of two reasons. First" He looked at Baekhyun. "I really was hoping to find you here, to be honest. Like we made it clear the last time we saw each other - you won't get away with what you pulled on that race. And also, we want that car back."

"Are fucking kidding me?" Now it was Baekhyun who snapped. "Where are your eyes? Everyone saw and can confirm that it was all fair! I won. And that car was never yours, so quit talking nonsense."

You felt your head spinning. Race? Car? Was Baekhyun also hiding Secrets?

"Wait." You turned to Baekhyun. "You are racing?"

"Y/N, I..." He run a hand through his hair.

Tao began to laugh again. "Right, let me make this clear to you. This idiot over here, is doing illegal street races for about, let me think, 2 years now? He somehow managed to drive off with our car from the last race in Shanghai, so that's why I'm here for his sorry ass."

"I told you that car is NOT yours!"

"Yeah, whatever. I will deal with you later." Tao turned to look at you. "And you darling, tell me, isn't it too much for you to live with the awareness of all the lives you have taken?"

You swallowed. Shit. That bastard just exposed you in front of Baekhyun, and nothing can take it back.

"Don't talk to me as if you're better, Tao."

"Oh, besides I heard the news. Kang Seojun is dead? Good job, Y/N. Were you playing hunter on the roof again? But fuck, you really must be a millionaire by now, with all these little paid crimes."

"What..." Baekhyun opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, imitating a goldfish. "Wait, no. You... you kill for money...?" He looked as confused as a human being can look. "Hold on a sec, you mean... like seriously doing that stuff assassins in the movies do?"

You felt like you were about to cry. You never wanted him to find out. Now he probably will hate you. Probably will be disgusted and disappointed in you.

"This is so funny" Tao chuckled. "And guess what I'm about to do with you, little princess? Remember Kris, right? Well, long story short he wants you dead."

Tao pointed his gun at you.

You saw your life fleeting before your eyes.

Shit. Shit, that wasn't how it was supposed to end.

"It was nice knowing you, Y/N. For the good old tim-" Shatter. He didn't finish the sentence, when a glass bottle shattered on his head.

Tao fell on the floor, unconscious.

You stared in complete shock at the person who just knocked him down. A scream of surprise left your lips.

You were met with a petite figure of brown-haired boy with sweet eyes which looked at you.

No, this can't be. After these years, you thought he might have ended up dead. But he was standing right in front of you, very alive.

The first most important person in your life. You grew up together and went through good and bad times together, arm in arm.

He was the reason why you promised yourself that you won't get attached to people, ever again.

You saw everything in a blur. What has just happened?

You placed your palm on your cheek, still looking at the petite boy in front of you, who still was holding the half-broken glass bottle.

You slowly stood up.

"L-Luhan...?"

The boy threw the glass on the side and smiled.

"Long time no see, honey."

A/N: End of the first chapter! This is my first ever fanfiction, so I’m really excited (and hella scared, lol) to finally post it! If this piece gets positive feedback, I will be more than happy and motivated to continue and make it a mini-series! I put lots of my time and heart into this first ever fanfic and I would love to properly start writing and improve my skills. So please please please leave me your thoughts, I would very appreciate it! Also don’t forget to leave a heart if you liked it, and feel free to reblog if you want to! <3

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ultraeloquentposts-blog · 4 years ago

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👩‍⚕️THE OTHER SIDE 👩‍⚕️

Time: 3.45 a.m – Peaceful Nights ???

“Jatatavigalajjala pravahapavitasthale

Galeavalambya lambitam bhujangatungamalikam

Damad damaddama ninadavadamarvayam

Chakara chandtandavam tanotu nah shivah shivam”

Brain: “Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?”

Heart: (Dub dub dub dub dub heartbeat racing fast).

Brain: “Aaaaahhh it’s the alarm.”

“But I just closed my eyes.”

“How does it matter, it’s time, I need to check on the patients downstairs.

But again, I gave all the necessary instructions on my last visit, they should not need me again.

What if the new-borns are hungry or if they oversleep? What if the mother sleeps while feeding the baby? MMMMMaybe I just ask the nurse on duty to have a look. Yeah, this sounds good, if there is a problem, she will call me. “

She picks up the intercom to ask the nurse on duty if all is good.

Yet again, her brain plays the angel “But then I am already awake, better I have a look myself” (faces of the new-born babies blink in her eyes).

She sneaks out of the bed, hoping that she will be back in the cozy comfort quickly and heads straight up to the dressing room to change into something elegant – Yeah, Doctors don’t get the privilege to step out wearing a night robe in their comfy gown, even in the middle of the night. Why? Well, let us ask our judging selves, what if my doctor comes in a comfy night rob to visit me. My illness goes in a corner and my judging-self starts talking “What a mess, is she really a doctor?” “Look at her, how is she supposed to handle my case?” Is she even hygienic or disciplined enough?”

We have learned to judge people on their appearance. With certain exceptions, we have learned that it’s okay to be a little biased for “the thing of beauty”, after all, we are the society that has labeled fair “Lovely” and skinny “Desirable”. So, judging your doctor who just walked out of the bed is involuntary.

Yes, ironically 12 years of hard work and 10 years of studies, will be easily judged and rendered unworthy in that small minute.

After changing and splashing some water on her face, she is quite awake. Her face and eyes, in particular, are swelled, begging her for some rest. But She is a doctor, she is in charge of the life. How can she, be at ease not knowing her patients’ status, she can’t have mercy on herself. Hence, ignoring her swelled up face, aching body and paining legs. She rushes downstairs to check on her patients with new-born babies. She has facilitated 1 C-Section and 1 Normal delivery in her own nursing home today. The C-Section had twins, then there is an infant from the C-Section of yesterday.

She always gets this proud feeling when a child is delivered healthy, when both the mother and baby are healthy. As if, she herself is the family who was supposed to take care of the mother and as if she herself is the mother who has just delivered that healthy baby. She does not care about the caste/creed/color/appearance of her patients, the only thing that makes her happy is the good health of the mother and baby. But unfortunately, this is something not good enough for the people and society. We have taken healthcare for granted, failed to appreciate their selfless hard work until it has directly affected us. Yes, she does get treated like a goddess when people realize that it is actually about life and death. But, knowing her in person, I want her (and every doctor out there) to know that we literally owe our lives to them.

The babies need to be fed milk solution as Mothers won’t still be able to feed the new-borns. Quite often the caretakers doze off and the baby might stay hungry, she has to make sure that the babies are fed and the mother is OK. However, the mother from yesterday’s C-Section was trained on feeding today and should try feeding her baby. Also, the new-borns need to be fed every 2 hours, which means no continuous sleep for mothers. Hence, as a doctor, she prefers putting up a midnight alarm to check on patients if everything is fine. The major risk remains with the patients whose baby is a few days old, as their families/elders tell them how to feed the baby while lying on the bed (being concerned about the mother’s condition). But this is a big “No” and is not at all allowed.

Reason? – Mothers are too tired, out of the injury of C-Section or the big fight of normal delivery along with waking up every 2 hours trying to feed their baby and a major possibility is for them to doze off while feeding the baby. There are cases wherein the mother was feeding the baby lying on the bed when she dozed off and the baby suffocated to death due to the weight of the breast. She makes sure to avoid any such incidents by checking continuously on her patients.

After calming down the 1 day old and instructing the nurse to feed him powdered milk, she moves to the next room, and to her surprise the patient is feeding her baby lying on bed and the patient's eyes are closed in sleep. “Why are you lying on the bed, you need to sit and then feed the baby. You are not supposed to lie down comfortably while feeding.” Then she turns to the caretaker and asks the patient's mother in law for why is she not keeping an eye. It is this time, the mom-in-law makes a snarky remark “It’s all a new drama these days, I have fed all kids like that, and nothing has gone wrong. It’s our will how we want to feed the baby, what is your problem.”

She tries to explain “The mother has a very high chance of falling asleep if she is lying down and the baby might suffocate because of the breast weight, as he will not be able to move his head”. The M-I-L argues back “It's not possible, we all have fed our babies, this is rubbish. Just, release us tomorrow, this is all a drama, we could have delivered at home, doctors just need a reason to cut the stomach. In our times, we delivered all healthy babies at home. These doctors are here only to make money.”

This is the time, it pinches her heart, the patient was in labor for 8 hours. She was continuously monitoring her situation; she could hear the baby’s heartbeat going slower and slower. This is when she asked the mother and family to hear for themselves and let her go for C-section as soon as possible. Delivery at home was not an option here. But she can’t go on explaining everyone – that way her day would need to have an extra 12 hours. “I would complete my medical duties and discharge you as soon as I can. I have no interest but the baby and mother’s health” Before the lady can utter any more nonsense, she turns to her nurse and tells her to be vigilant here and let her know if there are any further issues.

The twins have had their food and are sound asleep, she moves back upstairs, washes her hands, changes clothes, drinks some water and by the time she is back in bed, it’s 4.45 am.

Thanks to her hectic life, sleep is always around the corner for her. She falls asleep right away.

6.00 am – Never Early to Bed but Always Early to Rise!!!

“Jatatavigalajjala pravahapavitasthale

Galeavalambya lambitam bhujangatungamalikam

Damad damad damaddama ninadavadamarvayam

Chakara chandtandavam tanotu nah shivah shivam”

Dub dub dub dub.. the heart races again with a pinch of pain in the head.

Brain games are here again: “No you don’t need to get up.

5 minutes won’t hurt.

I promise I don’t need that alarm; I will be back awake with a quick 5 minutes of a power nap.

The patients were fine. The girls? Come on, I will fix a quick lunch in 15 minutes and 10 minutes to get them out of bed.

But the girls need cuddling and then getting ready, that will take 15 minutes. Total 30 minutes, I have an extra 10 minutes, 5 minutes to sleep and 5 minutes to be awake. I can do it.

Aaaahh. See, I passed 5 minutes in all the calculations when I could have slept nicely.”

She drags herself out of the cosy blanket and sleepily moves to the washroom to splash her face awake again. After which she straight away comes back to bed to wake her sleeping beauties up. She is a proud mom of two beautiful daughters Manya & Ananya. They have only 50 minutes for their school bus. The girls toss and turn to sleep back but she lovingly embraces them, kissing them again and again and telling them it’s time for school. After getting the girls out of bed, on their feet, she instructs them to get ready quickly. While the girls are getting ready, she heads to the kitchen to fix a quick yet innovative and tasty lunch. The lunch must be on par with the other kids and if she does not want food back, she better makes it tasty. It is already a pain to feed Manya – she has an inbuilt disrelish towards most of the food. Once the lunches are ready, she gets breakfast on the dining table and rushes to check if the girls are ready.

Manya is moving around with her hair still not braided, while Ananya is ready for breakfast with her school bag. She asks Manya to start with her breakfast and she goes on braiding her hair, while she eats.

Girls have left for school; she now makes a nice tea for herself and her husband who is reading the newspaper by now.

The maid will be here any minute, she quickly checks her messages and catches some news on T.V. She needs to check on her patients again, before going to her workplace.

8.00 am - & The Day (which never ended) Begins

At 8.00 she takes a look at the patients. Where luckily, all is good. She then drives towards the hospital, it’s OPD today (hospitals usually have 1 day dedicated for operations and 1 day dedicated to outdoor patient’s check-up) and patients are already queuing out.

After checking patients till 2.00 pm, with a 15 minutes tea break, she heads to the college building as she has to give a lecture in the college building. Doctors are supposed to teach medical students as well. On the way, she smiles remembering the funny media person interviewing her on doctor’s day and asking her if she thinks that medical students are not getting proper teachers in India. To be a medical professor in India, it’s not enough to be a doctor, but you have to keep up your research work and you must get papers continuously published. The medical profession has the toughest eligibility criteria for teachers, but people believe in sold media or unauthenticated WhatsApp forwards instead of trying to find out the truth.

At 3.00 pm she is out from the lecture and finally headed towards home.

By 4.00 pm after checking on her patients, she is eager to catch a nap before the patients start flooding in her nursing home.

5.30 p.m. – She has had her hour-long power nap. While she is sipping her tea, the girls show her their Homework and tell her about their school day. Since she is in a good mood, Ananya starts building the pitch “Mom, it’s been so long we have gone out. Let’s eat out today. We are already done with our homework”

She reminds her daughter “There are patients lined up already. O.K Let me see, if there is not much rush, we can go later.”

This is not new, because of the evening patients, she rarely gets time to have a nice family outing. Girls are also accustomed to going out after 9 pm, once the patients have all been attended to.

Manya suggests “We can go to Avengers Endgame, what say? Come on mom, it will be fun. I will book the 9 p.m. show.”

She calls up the reception desk and checks on the number of patients. Luckily, it’s not too much of a rush today. She tells Manya to book the movie tickets. But till then, girls need to be done with their studies.

6.30 pm

After imparting dinner instructions to her maid, she heads to check the patients. Along with 4 new patients, she checks the patient who wanted to leave early. If all is good with her, she can be discharged tomorrow morning. She finds everything good and tells the nurse to prepare the patient’s discharge papers and inform the patient’s family to complete the discharge formalities by tomorrow morning.

9.00 pm - Family Time ????

The girls come downstairs to the parking for the movie and they head straight away to the theatre. As always, they are late but the girls are happy that they could go out. After reaching the theatre, girls happily grab their favorite snacks and are 30 minutes late but they have started with the movie at least.

10.00 pm

Her phone rings in the middle of the movie and she gets to know that the family of the patient to be discharged tomorrow is creating a scene. On asking about the exact issue, her staff informs that the family wants to take the patient home right now and they say the charges are too much which they will not pay. She instructs the staff to ask them to wait, she will be in the hospital in 10 minutes.

She has to leave her daughters in the theatre. While her husband drives her back, she wonders what is wrong and remembers when the couple first came to her last year. They had lost 2 babies due to miscarriage and had no hopes of conceiving again. It was then, she gave them hope and started the treatment. She even prayed for them (as such she always prays before performing all her operations), she strongly believes God to be the ultimate power and with God’s blessings, nothing can go wrong. With careful medicines, continuous examinations the couple got the blessing of conceiving again in 2 months. She was very careful and did everything to avoid a miscarriage this time. All the efforts and prayers succeeded and the lady delivered a healthy baby 2 days back. The patient’s husband and family were so happy that they called her God and tried to even touch her feet, to which she politely replied that we are just the pawns of God, and I am glad to be doing what I do. At that time, they could not stop praising her hard work, humbleness, and elegance. She remembers clearly explaining the costs to the patient's husband and he himself selected the room and services. This is the usual norm. Yet, today they find the costs too high. Why is it that people find it difficult to pay doctors who actually heal them but are ok spending on entertainment?

With all these thoughts going around, she reaches her nursing home. The patient’s family is waiting and a lady calling herself the patient's Aunt comes to her “Madam, these people are asking for too much money. This is a nursing home; it should not be so costly here. This much we pay in big cities.”

She replies “These are the normal charges all our patients pay; we have not charged anything new or extra to you. I work at ABC hospital too and the charges there are just double. Also, the patient's husband was very well aware of the costs and he himself selected the package. Can you please call him?”

The husband who was probably standing nearby hops in and says “No, I never knew”.

He is lying to her face; she is in shock and decides it’s better to have a written agreement before delivery. Trust is out of the question with people these days.

After a long series of arguments, she is drained off. She says “Please take the patient home and do not pay anything. Do not come to me for anything going forward”

The family stays for the night. She drives back to the theatre to pick up her daughters, the movie would have ended by now.

12.00 pm - Day Ends (at least for a few hours)

She finally gets to be back in bed for a few hours. until the alarm rings yet again.

These were the 24 hrs of a Doctor’s life. Not even 6 hours of continuous sleep. No compromises on other roles of a teacher, a mother, a wife.

Post Credits:

The family who had a problem with charges sends the husband’s younger brother to talk. She calmly talks to him as well. He thanks her for all she did but stresses that the couple is facing a financial crisis and is really hoping for a concession. She believes yet again and agrees to a small concession. The brother is happy now. He says further “We have just 1 last favor to request”. She is really losing it, if he still cries about the payment. But, to her surprise, he explains “We have this insurance claim of 1.5 lakhs, we would be really obliged if you could approve it.”

They wanted her to sign an insurance claim of triple the amount of her hospital fee and just acted as if they were paying out of their savings. She still kept her calm and explained that this is wrong, she cannot sign for more than the payment she is receiving and that the amount is very high. But the brother still tries to convince her. Now she very firmly tells him “Sir, there are MCI rules in place, doctors can take fees as per the hospital size and services only. If we ask for more, we can even lose our license. Signing a falsified insurance claim is not only unethical but illegal too. Further, I would like my complete payment without concession. Since your insurance is paying the amount. You should not have a problem being able to afford it. Please deposit the fee today and get the patient discharged.”

She moves out of her clinic.

Isn’t It Time We Reconsider Our Priorities ???

Media and society have created an image of doctors as money craving devils.

Well, the truth is we can pay 500 Rs for a movie but paying the same or even lesser amount to the doctor for our own health is a problem.

We are a society that treats actors(es) like gods(ess) but the real gods amongst us who actually heal us are considered demons. Why? Because, they ask to be paid for their services.

So, what? if they have spent 10 years amidst books and corpses and stinking blood, stinking medicines.

So, what? if they are 24 hours on duty, (leave getting their beauty sleep, even a 6-hour sleep is a luxury).

So, what? if they have no family life.

Our situation - We see a Celebrity and we are like “ Shut up and take our money”.

Life’s highest honor? This photo of me with Madhuri Dixit.

That day Salman Bhai actually waved at me, I bet he was looking at me.

But bro, you stand in front of his building daily. Haan to I am his biggest fan, it’s not easy to see God, you need to work hard.

My daughter resembles Katrina, just too pretty.

We would happily give our money to a Star whose job requires dressing up, glamming up, partying, and a bit of acting. They entertain us and apparently entertainment is our priority over life.

Who probably doesn’t even know why the sky is blue, who is our president, or even have a basic life reasoning? And why should they know all this, they earn in millions and live a lavish life even with their ignorance.

It is ok even if our favorite actor drives over sleeping people on the road. He has all rights. He is God. But not the doctor who just saved my life – because they are asking to be paid for their service.

We will idolize Priyanka Chopra because she is a self-made woman. Well, so is Indira Nooyi, (maybe a better example), but considering their popularity, we have again failed to notice the genius over a pretty face.

Mr. Amir Khan did mention in Satyamev Jayate “Ventilators are used by doctors just to make money”. I wonder, why the country needs so many ventilators – The money mending machine amidst the Corona Crisis.

It is high time, we as a society review our priorities and instead of idolizing skin, better idolize the brain. Because Brain is capable of creating something immortal while Skin will just cloth you up and will wrinkle off eventually.

And, if you still can’t dodge off your decision to curse doctors, you can prioritize investing your money in your security, which is the Indian Army. But yeah, for our very own sake, it’s high time to correct our inverted pyramid and reset our priorities.

#anyotherday #regularday #doctorsday #insideview #respectlife #yolo #spendwisely #lifematters #doctorsareheroes #adayinadoctorslife

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ralfstrashcan · 6 years ago

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3x21 Reaction / Commentary

I was seriously wondering if this was Alec because Magnus loss = melt down = shaky fingers but Alec would never voluntarily drink something so pretentious. But uuhhh I had thought Jonathan angry-flapped through the rift to Edom? Why he now here still?

More seelie queen crown, yeah!!

Not buying that whole “your demon blood is burning away your humanity” because, again, he lived years without being bonded to Clary so what's taken that “transformation” so long? Also, will he become like, a raven? A harpy? Oh no, I saw the promo. He'll be blond. Makes sense.

He just showed that he's not interested, stop harassing him you sick cougar.

Uhhhhh, objection your honor. That fake blade only contained like three atoms of the original Glorious. But whatever, details amiright.

Also if they wanna tell me it's the blade that triggered the transformation then a) wtf why would a blade designed to break something evil make the evil actually MORE evil wtf for a shit equipment is that b) can we expect some ridic changes for Clary too, that make her even more Mary Sue? c) if Lucifer was so badass, where is he? Something killed him, maybe? Since Jonathan is declared most uniquest thing to ever unique?

“A splendid pet bird. And he died a few decades back so I'd like to recruit you as replacement,. Whatcha say? I'll even drop bird themed pick up lines around you all day.” God I'm making myself sick.

BS when you think about it, because every individual is unique. Good luck salvaging the climate change and what not, seelie queen, on your heroic quest to preserve all that is unique.

#rejected, take that you prowling predator. Can you believe she annoyed him so much he just abandoned his pretentious cream drink thingy? So rude. Also nice touch that they remembered that thing with the flowers and Jonathan making them poor flowers wilt. Btw would that have worked if they were plastic flowers?? Haha ok sorry.

Wtf I'm very much not on board with the seelie queen having a weird Jonathan fetish. Also, if the sole reason she has it is that Jonathan is “one of a kind” then I wonder why she wasn't ruthlessly hitting on Simon the same way? Or technically, before Simon became a daylighter, on Cain, getting him to leave the sewers and chill in the seelie realm instead?

1) Wow can you believe they managed to spare Malec's drama 3 seconds of consideration before getting absorbed in themselves again? Amazing. 2) Dude, you weren't in control of your actions while Clary was brainwashed and very much in control of her actions. That's not really comparable? But whatever.

Some great “love” you've got going on there, Maryse, writing Magnus off after, what? Half a day? Two days? Smh.

???????????????????? So they want to tell me Magnus plastered his magic like a bandaid over the rift but didn't really close it? Well, I am prepared with outrage to point out all the ways in which this is bullshit.

1) There clearly was no such thing to be seen from the other side.

Since Edom and Earth are two different dimensions and on Earth's side there was no rift in the dimension's fabric anymore that obviously means if the wraiths slipped through that Edom crack they'd either be lost in limbo or flapping around in some inter-dimesional space. But they couldn't reach Earth. So I fail to see how this is a problem.

2) How the hell do the NY Shadowhunters know about this? Since from their side the rift was well and truly closed? They don't know that Magnus has to keep his magical band-aid in place? The only thing they have to wonder about is why the hell Magnus hasn't returned yet since Magnus proved in 3x20 that apparently interdimensional travel works with normal warlock portals and those fancy pentagram things aren't necessary.

3) Uhhhh if Magnus has to stay there to keep up the magical band-aid (since exit options clearly aren't the issue here) wtf won't he tire at some point? Am I supposed to believe exhausting isn't a thing in Edom? What happens if he has to sleep? (Sidenote, what the hell do they eat in Edom anyway? Will he have to roast some shax demons? Disturbing.) Anyway back to the topic at hand, if I'm supposed to believe that Magnus is THAT strong he can keep up this magic (a magic that was so enormous he couldn't even achieve it from Earth) for eternity without taking a break, then I doubly don't get why he can't just SEAL the goddamn rift?! And don't tell me it's because band-aid magic is something he can do, and different from rift sealing magic which is something he can't do. Because again, 2x20 is a thing where Magnus proves that he is capable of sealing a rift; so the only explanation of why he didn't do it in 3x20 is because the rift was too powerful. Now correct me if I'm wrong but to me Magnus + Enhanced Edom Powers equals He Closes The Rift, not Weird Band-Aid Magic. Wtf.

HAHAHAH I CAN'T!!!!! THANKS MAGNUS FOR POINTING THIS OUT!!! AND IN THE SASSIEST WAY POSSIBLE!!!!! IT'S BEEN BUGGING ME SINCE 3x10 XD XD XD

Love that shot.

1) Thanks, Lilith, for confirming that Magnus is in fact constantly supplying the band-aid with magic and thus exposing this whole plot line as completely frakkin illogical. 2) Wtf Lilith, why the heck did you go back to Edom in 3x16 if you wanted to murder Jonathan????? IT MAKES NO SENSE AT ALL WTF 3) Where tf is Cain?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA I CAN'T

Wow that escalated quickly. I hate that even though Magnus knows it's just a trick to get into his head it still hurts him, because this is how he is: alwasy second-guessing his worth. He deserves better from all of them, deserves more from them, so he wouldn't feel this so keenly.

Ok, good save, I was just gearing up for a rage about why the hell Magnus is more powerful than the literal mother of demons who could defeat everyone, even with his Ddom-Edition-Powers because come on. However, Magnus must know that this is just a temporal solution because recovering means at some point she'll be recovered and, well.

Also, this shot haha.

Hahahaha I see he inherited the hell puns from Asmodeus along with the real estate XD

I mean, yeah, and then he acted like a total fool in his last few days. Great way to go, man. #stillbitter

“People mattered to Jordan. People, their troubles, their pain...”

That was sweet.

HAHAHAHA THAT WAS HILARIOUS

Probably off to do something to enrage me, so same as always.

Oh look, he's robbing a bakery because being jobless and needing food doesn't mix well.

OMG I SUDDENLY REMEMBER THIS FROM THE 3B TRAILER. You know, Luke being all creepy in the back of a car? Wtf, honestly I think I'll have even less patience for Human!Luke than I have Inapt!Werewolf!Luke. They're really testing me.

“....like Sizzy” Hahahah okay I'll try to behave myself. And I had time to prepare, it was obvious they'd use that inspirational thing Maia said for Sizzy purposes.

Yeah...... #irony #obviously me behaving myself isn't working out, who's surprised? I'm not.

Don't they have fire extinguishers in the Institute somewhere? I mean, there's regulations for that, right? Lemme guess, that's remnants of the Glorious fake sword that pierced her? And now she can't be with Simon without killing him, hahaha, all Sizzy problems solved XD

When I saw this (in the Sneak Peek, but still counts) my first thought was “Aha NOW he tries to find a solution but when Magnus first lost his magic he couldn't be bothered RUDE ALEC WTF” lol ahahahah

Question time: 1) Didn't he have plants in there last episode?

OH RIGHT HE HAD!!! What happened to them? *Sherlock Voice* Did he eat them??

2) Why didn't Alec wonder where the hell Lorenzo was? Sure, he's a little preoccupied atm with losing Magnus, but he should have realized Lorenzo was weirdly absent about five hours into his happy little loft occupation???

3) I fully expected the scratching to be Chameleon!Lorenzo vying for attention, but seeing it, omg my heart broke a little. Can you imagine the desperation?? Poor evil lizard baby.

You know, I find it inherently troubling that Alec assumes Magnus always had this lizard and has only now decided to relocate its terrarium into the loft's main room, instead of thinking Magnus got the lizard as, idk, a pick-me-up after the breakup. I mean, what kind of lousy pet holder does he take Magnus for? Not even mentioning he has one, never taking care of it? That's not Magnus. Alec should know better.

Als Bohemian so incisively pointed out, why would he have created a pet cobra that he calls “baby” if he hated reptiles? And while, granted, Alec might not know about this, I believe Cat should. So wtf.

.....................................they honestly felt the need to tell her this? In grave detail and that this was their first kiss? Why would they do that?? Or did she look at the tapes??? So many questions.

Lol okay I didn't even intend to be so spot on with the Sizzy prediction. More importantly though, she won't be able to shadowhunt anymore.

Why is anyone (except Magnus (and occasionally Alec)) left in charge of anything, ever. *sigh*

But I mean, at least there's this

Small mercies (aka comedic pockets in a vast sea of illogic shit) I guess XD

HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA I AM DEAD I CAN'T HAHAHAH HIS FACE!!!!!!!!!!

Jace is me, I am Jace

So.... many....... questions...............

Okay, so I'm severely confused. If this demon has info on what's happening in Edom right now, then either he left Edom after Lilith started gathering her army so there's a rift there somewhere, OR there's a way for news to travel between Edom and Earth, probably through, you guessed it, a tiny rift. So wtf, show, please explain because I don't understand.

..............................................................

The audacity. The fucking audacity. MAGNUS WILL BE DEAD, IS WHAT YOU SHOULD TAKE AWAY FROM THAT. NOT THAT THE RIFT REOPENS ARE YOU KIDDING ME WTF JACE I CAN'T BELIEVE IT I EVEN CURSED EXPLICITLY I NEVER DO THAT WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

Wow. Alec, can you please punch him?

Don't get me wrong. They're shadowhunters, of course it is their duty to prevent this to protect the mundanes. But, delivery?! Show some worry at the prospect of the love of your parabatai's life dying??? before continuing with business as usual?????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SAME CLARY, BECAUSE WTF?! I REPEAT, WTF!!!! Didn't she listen to Helen at all? It's not going to protect her, it's going to blast her to frakking pieces. Wtf how dumb is she??? Hääääääääääää?????

lol Simon, you'd just stab yourself in the eye with it XD But I appreciate the sentiment XD

I AM THIS CLOSE TO JUST, RECORD MY LAUGHTER BECAUSE I'M DYYYYYING OVER HERE OKAY HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHA Also he should call Maia, because life as a werewolf suxx way less than life as a vampire. Then again, IMMORTAL HUSBANDS SIGN ME THE F UP, IMMORTAL ALEC WAS ENDGAME ALL ALONG AHAHAHAHAHA YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Okay, on a more coherent note. I LOVE this line. I was so painfully deprived of Alec throwing himself into risk and action just to protect and help Magnus during 3B that it's not even funny. So this was really awesome. But, consider this: if he really wanted to go through with it he'd have to wait like a whole day before the transformation is completed, so uhhh impracitcal.

YES. YES. PLEASE MORE OF ENRAGED ALEC SCOLDING THEM LIKE THE KIDS THEY ARE. (But, uh, ragefully running away from his sire in spe wasn't the cleverest move if he wants to go through with it immediately ahaha XD)

I mean, nice of them to contriubute. All it took was Alec (!!!!!) flipping his shit. It seems they didn't have the idea to look into something themselves. Lol I'm inclined to be with Lilith on that one, are they even worth it??? Smh.

Full disclosure, for the longest time I was sure those were burning dog shit piles XD

Can we talk about how Jonathan is at a point where he doesn't really seem to care if he lives or dies because everything is pointless to him? (Btw if I manage to actually write the epic 3x21+22 rewrite I have in mind then it'd start here.)

I mean this was smooth and all, but......? Wasn't Meliorn like, totally over Izzy? I'm meaning this in a premonition-y way, not just this line. His rekindled feelings come pretty much out of nowhere.

I get that this is the alliance rune from the books. But why the hell would she do that in this situation instead of a rune that allows Shadowhunters to survive in Edom? In which universe is alliance rune your first thought instead of resiliance rune?? Or just a plain Accio Magnus rune, ffs!!!Makes no sense.

This is epic and all, but excuse me while I roll my eyes real hard.

Also ignoring the seelie queen and her weird fetish 2.0 because who cares.

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I CCCCCCCCCAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT LORENZO IS A FANBOY HAHAHAHA I BET YOU HE WILL CORNER SIMON AT SOME POINT AND BEG HIM FOR AN AUTOGRAPH HAHAHAHAHA

“As my first act on the Downworld Council...”

So you mean to tell me that from 3x02 til 3x21 actually only a week passed? Because the Downworld Council meetings are weekly scheduled??? Tf hahaha.

Hahahhahhaa I mean I totally get why he reacts that way. Also, may I ask the dreaded question: WHERE THE F IS CATARINA???????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No honestly, I give up. I just. I give up.

Hahahahaha

“The angels wouldn't have given me this power if they didn't want me to use it.”

Premonition!Ralf: Ha. Hahahhahaha. Ha.

THE COMEDY WE DESERVE HAHAHAHA

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA PERFECT!!!! Not least because it's immediately followed by

which makes it seem as if Lorenzo is complimenting Meliorn's prowess as a lover LOL

SIGH. So in 3x10 it was the portal that allowed Magnus to EASILY travel back to Earth, not Asmodeus kindly giving him a lift. So then let me ask why the hell he didn't make a portal like this in 3x20?! Did he already know he wouldn't be able to seal the rift but would have to keep it closed 24/7? Ridiculous. Also, why does Alec even ask this, since he saw Magnus use that exact same portal in 3x10.

I think you should have held frikkin hands.

HAHAHA ALEC, HONEY, WHAT WOULD YOU WRITE ANYWAY???? “We're right here, next to those withered trees. There's sand on the ground and wraiths in the sky. Everything looks red. And from here I can see that one ruin!!”

Weird Lorenzo & Alec bonding is intriguing. That's all I'm saying on the matter for now. I'm reserving judgement.

(Edit: After watching both 3x21 and 3x22 this clearly marks the point where Lorenzo's Instant Redemption Arc sets in and simultaneously comes to a close. Thanks, I hate it. Let antagonists be antagonists, dammit. At the end of the day not everyone is a goody two-shoes. That's life. UGH. Also, let me introduce my theory that while traveling between Earth and Edom Lorenzo's character was ripped from him in a severe Plot Convenience Turbulence. What a shame.)

But hell yeah to Alec's emotions running rampant and him being unable to control the magic. Another headcanon confirmed (that I didn't really knew I had, lol).

Hahahahha dude could you be any more pretentious XD XD XD

Hahahahahahaha this is the best day of my life.

Hahahaha Meliorn just got promoted to one of my favorites. Better late than never amiright.

I get this, this taking stock conversation, from a meta standpoint. But BITCH CAN YOU FOCUS ON MAGNUS FOR ONCE IN YOUR SELF-ABSORBED LIFE IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK WTF DAMMIT

Yeah, me too. Who knew demonic transformations came with a villain hairdo make over?? Nature truly is beautiful.

Me, watching: I might be totally oblivous, but did this crown always have a stripe thing on the top, too? Ralf, editing this reaction post: Yes. Yes it did. You're not as observant as you like to think. Me, reading that: .......harsh

..........do I have to understand why he isn't running away screaming? I get the instinct to wreak havoc because everything hurts and is pointless but wtf, the seelie queen is doing the exact same things Lilith did to him. Using him, only seeing him as a power source that has to be cultivated but has no feelings, no worth, and weirdly kissing him. He should, for all intents and purposes, be running for the hills. (But also, uh, neat nail polish and rings, seelie queen. You've got style.)

HAHAHAHA I mean, I already prepared two Jeliorn Dumb Comics, but this is reaching ridiculous levels XD XD XD I'm soooo here for it.

Hahahahaha XD XD XD

“Runes bubbling back, incredible” Yeah, no shit. I'm not buying. I could even largely argue my point, making references to the seelies that got “treated” in 3x17 that weren't rendered half-human-half-angel but mundane, meaning they lost their angelic part, too, meaning the serum removes angelic blood as well as demon blood. But since I couldn't care less about Luke (right now or in general? That's your guess to make) I'm not even getting worked up over it XD

Dude, you're aware this is like the perfect opening for getting a verbal diss, right?

Wow, three seconds a shadowhunter and here we are with the racist jokes again. That was quick.

Also, let me say how exceedingly ridiculous it is that Luke just walks out of there with a “No thank you” and Evil Praetor Guy does nothing against it literally because Luke said “But blackmailing me would mean you're evil ;__;”

bitch please

Look, can we appreciate this a little more? Like, a lot more??? Can I pause the episode here and stare at this for half an hour or something????? Alec saying he's willing to just, leave behind life as he knew it, very possibly never seeing anyone of his family again, just so he gets to stay with Magnus? I mean, that's some Major Immortal Alec Energy right there. Serve me more please.

..................wow instead I get Clary depriving me of a Malec Reunion Smooch wtf?! Uuuhhhh no thank you!!!!

AHAHAHA THAT SUFFERING FACE HAHAHAHAHA OMG AMAZING Kicked Pouting Suffering Puppy Jace <3<3<3

Btw what Jace said about Simon really gave me something to think about. I'm confused but intrigued. I like.

#shadowhunters #3x21 #magnus bane #alec lightwood #clary fray #jace wayland #simon lewis #isabelle lightwood #lorenzo rey #maia roberts #luke garroway #meliorn #the seelie queen #jonathan morgenstern #lilith #reaction

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nervousgaylaughter · 5 years ago

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how'd we end up on a road we never took (chapter 1)

a kate and eva fake dating au

read on ao3

Kate is sick of her life. She’s sick of her homophobic parents. She’s sick of all the fake people at school. And she’s sick of Cairo and all her questions. It’s one thing to go to school and be interrogated about dating her best friend to go home and be lectured how she’s just in a phase. The duality of her two worlds is too much for her to handle, she knows it would all go away if she could just get a girlfriend. But her angry demeanor and unapproachable disposition has ruined her chances.

She can count all the girls she’s been able to deal with enough to actually like on one hand.

There was Bridget, her first real crush last year, who lead Kate on, but unlike Kate, was actually in love with her best friend Emma and started dating her, leaving Kate somewhat heartbroken. There were two good things that came from Bridget though: her gay awakening and her best friend Chess. Two unrelated things, but both important nonetheless.

There was Mallory from English who was so straight that it actually caused Kate to stop crushing on her. She was attracted to Mallory’s intelligence, she always had the best analysis for whatever they were reading, but ultimately dropped the idea when Mallory started dating the heartthrob of the school.

And there was Samantha, the bubbly girl she met at a week-long art exposition, who lived on the other side of the country. The girl felt like a breath of fresh air to Kate after being stuck in the same town for all of her life. She had a crush for a week, and then she left for home.

That’s it.

It’s not that Kate doesn’t find more than three girls attractive, it’s just that their personality is the overwhelmingly important factor for her. She feels like she’s already met everyone she’s gonna meet. The kids at Giles Corey High School have been in school together practically since Kindergarten. By the time she’s a junior in high school she accepts she’s never going to like any Tiger enough to date her.

Kate is getting dinner with Chess as she laments over her situation.

“There is a very good chance that all aspects of my life will improve if I had a girlfriend.”

“How do you figure that, Kate?” Chess asks with an amused grin.

“One, I’d have a girlfriend.” Kate says as if it were obvious, making Chess chuckle.

“Two, Cairo would stop insinuating that we’re dating.”

“Don’t let her get to you Kate, it’s not her fault she’s projecting onto you.”

“You know actually I think all our lives would improve if Cairo would finally admit she’s in love with Riley. She needs to get over the repressed lesbian bullshit already it’s been literally eight years.”

Next to them, one of the busgirls laughs at the anecdote as she’s cleaning one if the tables. Kate gives her some serious side-eye for eavesdropping.

Trying to get her friend to alleviate her death stare, Chess asks, “Are there any more points to your list?”

“Ah yes,” Kate perks up as the idea comes back to her mind, “Three, my parents would stop trying to tell me being gay is just a phase.”

Chess gives her friend the pity face to which Kate just rolls her eyes. Their conversation is interrupted by the waitress coming over.

“What can I get for you girls?” Kate and Chess come to Toni's Pizza after practice every Thursday so the waiter should be very familiar with the pair by now, but they go through this routine every time.

“We’ll have a large Hawaiian pizza with two root beers please,” Chess says with a smile. Kate thinks that pineapple on pizza is absolutely atrocious, but she told Bridget she liked it because it’s Bridget’s favorite and Kate was a useless baby gay. Bridget and Emma ordered it when they first introduced Chess to Kate and it’s far too late to correct herself now.

“Oh…” is all the waiter says as he goes to put in their order, clearly judging their order as he does every week. Same buddy, same, is all Kate thinks but instead she leans in towards Chess and says, “He acts like we haven’t ordered the same exact thing every Thursday for the past year.”

“Leave him alone Kate, it’s not his job to memorize the regulars’ orders.”

“It’d save a lot of time though.” The waiter returns with their root beers in bottles, and as much as Kate would never admit it, she likes her pop best like that. It makes her feel like an adult even though she’s too scared to drink alcohol. She takes a few sips and starts to blow into the bottle. She manages to get a steady sound out of it and starts playing a random rhythm.

“Do you have to do this every time?” Chess says to her friend staring her down as she continues to blow into the bottle.

“Obviously,” Kate says, but stops her incessant root beer music.

Just as Kate is about to continue telling her single life sorrows to Chess, the busgirl comes over.

“So I couldn’t help but overhear your story-“

“Yeah I noticed,” Kate says with a glare. The girl hesitates for a moment but continues, “Um, I think I have a solution.”

Kate really doesn’t want the unsolicited advice of a stranger, but she’s so desperate that she figures she could at least hear her out.

“So, my friend Eva, she’s a delivery girl, just broke up with her girlfriend and needs to save face at Homecoming so you two could totally just go together to get everyone off your back,” the busgirl looks extremely proud of her plan, and if she’s being perfectly honest, Kate’s not completely opposed to it.

Kate did recognize the name Eva though, since her family often ordered delivery from Toni's Kate would get their pizza (without pineapples) from the girl with the rainbow button on her jacket. Kate did notice that the girl was really attractive, and hoped the button meant more than just a rainbow, but wouldn’t let herself think about a complete stranger like that.

Friends all leave you eventually, Bridget did, so the less friends you have and the more people you distance yourself from the better.

Kate realizes that she’s been sitting thinking in silence for a little bit too long.

“Just until Homecoming?”

“Yeah. By then both if you will have made your point, ooh hang on gimme a sec,” the girl runs off and quickly returns with a piece of paper. “Write down your number. I’ll call her after she gets out of cheer practice and explain everything to her.”

“Eva is a cheerleader too?” Chess asks genuinely as Kate scribbles down her phone number.

“Mhm she’s the highest ranked flyer in the state. Are you guys cheerleaders?” Kate resists the urge to sarcastically grab the draw string bags that both her and Chess have on their chairs that say “Tigers Cheerleading” and lets Chess respond.

“Yup we go to Giles Corey.”

“Oh sorry,” the girl says, “I didn’t mean it like that it's just we go to West High and well, you know your team is kinda ass but I’ve seen you guys cheer and you’re good.” Kate may already know that they’re the worst team ever, but only she’s allowed to trash the Tigers.

“Great thanks for the idea,” Kate abruptly hands the paper to the girl, “bye,” she says with a little, somewhat patronizing, shooing motion.

Though the busgirl might already annoy the shit out of Kate, she wonders what Eva is like. If she goes through with this insane plan with someone she just barely knows what will she feel like by the end? What if Eva grows on me, Kate wonders but stops herself. She won’t let it get that far. They can pretend to be dating but she doesn’t need another friendship outside of that. If Eva somehow agrees to her friend’s plan, Kate won’t let them get close because that’s just how you get hurt.

“Earth to Kate… hello?” Chess waves her hand in front of Kate’s face. “Oh my God you’re actually considering this aren’t you?” Chess says.

“I mean-” Chess cuts her off with an amused laugh, “At first I thought 'Kate would never do something like this', but now I’m seeing how gay and desperate you are.”

“Think about it Chess, it’d be so nice for Cairo to stop teasing us all practice for once.”

“I tune her out, don’t you?”

“How can I she’s so incessantly loud. Also my parents would finally get off my back if they thought I was dating someone.”

“Do they still say you can’t be gay because you’ve never been in any relationship?”

“Yeah,” Kate says sadly as she puts her arms and head down on the table.

“That’s a big oof buddy.”

“I know. I’m just going wait and see if Eva even texts me before I do or say anything.”

Chess nods as the waiter brings their pizza. The rest of the dinner goes by relatively quickly, except for when Kate has to resist gagging to swallow the pineapple, and soon enough Chess is dropping off Kate at her house.

“You know you’re gonna have to get your license someday. I’m not gonna be here to drive you around forever,” Chess says to the shorter girl.

“Why would you remind me of that?” Kate says as she gets out of the car.

“Sorry bud, I don’t wanna leave you either but we have to accept that I’m going to college at some point,” Chess says through her window.

“I don’t have to accept it if I don’t think about it.”

“Hey look at me,” Kate was staring at the ground, but slowly looks up to Chess, “You’re my best friend. We’re always gonna be us no matter what, ok?” Chess holds out her arm with her half of their matching bracelets. Kate puts her own arm on top of Chess's so their bracelets align as they smile at each other and Kate backs away from the car.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Chess says as she pulls out of the driveway.

Kate just nods as she makes her way to her front door. She know no matter what Chess thinks right now, the truth is that they’ll grow apart. It happened when her oldest sister got married, when her older brother got a job overseas, and when Bridget went away to school. Why would this time be any different?

Kate forgets about her Eva situation as she gets ready for bed and attempts to read her book, but is too preoccupied mourning the loss of Chess even though it hasn’t happened yet. That is until she’s lying in the darkness and her phone lights up.