#OBVIOUSLY they should just get to kick us out and watch whatever garbage white middle aged right winged youtube channel they’re into now

[kyberphilosopher]

Seven: Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

“What happened to the Exception?” Adelicia questions. Her voice is smooth and low as usual, but underneath is a layer of malice and anger and accusing. Even with her back to me, I can feel this.

          “He killed himself,” I say. I meant for my own voice to come out flat, but it cracks a little somewhere in the middle, much to my annoyance.

          “It,” Adelicia corrects. “It self-destructed.”

          “Yes,” I say with a little dip of my head. “It self-destructed.”

          Adelicia turns around to face me. Her stern face is kept strict and together. Her blond hair is curled professionally towards the ends, right by her chin. Today, her suit is a bright white. It matches the walls of the room and the other modern architecture of the place. “Why did it do that? Hmm?”

          I fiddle with my fingers behind my back. I’ve never done that before, but it feels natural to do. “Exceptions have unpredictable behavior.”

          “So you’re saying there was nothing you could’ve done?”

          This accusation makes something prick in my circuits. Adelicia must know what she’s playing at. She is the type of person to do so. To berate people for disappointing her no matter the circumstances. I just never considered the possibility that I would disappoint her. I was designed specifically to not do that. “Maybe,” I say, even though I don’t really think so.

          Adelicia inhales and slowly turns around, seemingly composing herself. “And how would you say your first day was overall?”

          I don’t actually have the time to answer because as soon as I open my mouth, she’s asking a new question. “How would you define Callan Kennedy?”

          That’s a good question, actually. My circuits whir for a moment as I think about my answer. “I think it’s an added… challenge, working with him,” I say honestly. “He clearly has some issues he needs to sort out. But he’s unpredictable. He’s not so bad.”

          I can practically hear the frown gracing the older woman’s lips. “And your relationship with him?”  

          He showed me how to curse in the car today. He laughed about it. I kind of wanted to laugh too. There is some kind of rapport developing between us, it seems. Though for now it’s mostly negative. “I’m not sure there is a relationship, yet. Though that is less important to me than the mission.”

          I add the last part quickly. Maybe that is what eased the tension in Adelicia’s shoulders. “If it’s so important to you,” she begins. “Then go do it.”

          Then she kicks me out of her program.

          I open my eyes slowly, my led yellow before going white. It is no longer Thursday, October 14th. It is now Friday, October 15th. It is 9 am. Detective Kennedy will be here soon. Or he should be, at least. Whether or not he actually does that is up for debate.

          I look around, moving only my head. I can see Officer Shovelman and Ho-Kim in a corner, sipping coffee and talking casually. Officer Blackwell disappears into a door with stairs on it. Celeste emerges from the meeting room with a huff, adjusting her navy blue cap. Captain Ericson is in his office, typing away at something. Everyone else bustles about, a quite hum of talking and phone calls filling up the place.

          Something sinks into my biocomponents. A kind of comfort. I’m not sure from what. Maybe it’s because the environment.

          A new objective appears in front of me where only I can see.

Make Yourself Presentable

     One step forward, I fiddle with my cuffs on my jacket. Moving to the side of the room so I can go down the hallway to the bathroom. I don’t have to do my hair or brush my teeth or anything, but I quickly straighten out my clothes and tighten my black tie. When that’s finished, I tilt my head in different directions to observe my face.

          I would look completely human, if not for the led by my eyebrow. You can see the fake pores in my skin. The individual strands of soft brown hair. The little cracks in my lips like they’re slightly chapped. Despite that, I am feminine and soft and calm and nice to look at. This is a stark contrast to Cal, I think, because he is obviously more masculine and rough around the edges. Very hard boiled, too.

          I finish observing myself and turn back around. Two other women in the bathroom shuffle in their stalls. Their heels click and scratch across the floor. I’ve never had to use the bathroom. Not like a real girl.

          I leave the bathroom. Even when I come back, Cal isn’t there. I don’t know what to do without him. I already understand the layout of the precinct, so there’s no need to explore anything. Well… maybe there is. I could explore Cal’s desk.

          My feet take me to the left, into the break room. It’s not overtly large, but it has a few vending machines and a counter with coffee making materials. At one of the tables is Shovelman and Ho-Kim, which makes me feel a little better. They’re familiar faces. I don’t think it’s likely they’ll attack me or berate me.

          “Hello,” I greet, putting my hands behind my back and smiling politely. The two officers jump and look up to me, anxiety rushing through the both of them. “I’m Aleksandra, but you can call me Aleks.”

          “I-uh…” Shovelman begins.

          “I detect an increase in your heart rate that indicates fear, or anxiety. This happens when I come near you… I hope I don’t frighten you.”

          Both of their heartrates relax slightly. Officer Ho-Kim’s shoulders sink as a sort of tension leaves him. “No,” Shovelman says. “Of course not… I’m Blaise. This is Tom.”

          “Nice to meet you,” I dip my head with a smile, pretending like I didn’t already analyze them and know all this information already. “I hope we can work harmoniously together.”

          “Yeah,” Tom says dryly, swallowing nervously.

          “So, uh, you’re working with Kennedy,” Blaise says, still anxious but trying.

          “Yes,” I tell him.

          “And what do you think about that?”

          “Well,” I lower my head, my fingers dancing against each other behind me. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

          Tom lets out a quick laugh, but then seems to realize whose company he’s in and he clears it off with a cough. It makes my mouth twitch into a small smile before disappearing too. “He doesn’t really seem to like anybody. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

          “Bet Celeste has been giving you a lot of shit though,” Blaise says, raising his eyebrows and sipping from his coffee cup.

          “Correct,” I tell them. “Did I do something wrong?”

          “No, no. It’s not your fault. I mean, being a… you know… doesn’t help, but it’s about Kennedy. Not you.”

          “You’d think they were married, the way she’s around him,” I mutter. There’s silence for a few seconds before the two officers in front of me let out a series of giggles that makes me want to join too.

S0ftware 1nStability ^

          “She’s not so bad, is she?” Tom says through his chuckles.

S0ftware 1nStability ^

     I smile a little. The officers return to their conversation, still laughing a bit. I decide to leave as they’re distracted, but I don’t mind so much. Our interaction was pleasant. Certainly better than the other interactions I’ve had with the humans so far.

          Upon leaving the break room, I make my way over to Cal’s desk. Unlike the others, he has no pictures on his desk at all. There are only a few trinkets- a rubber band ball, several broken pencils, an overflowing garbage can next to his desk. A flower pot sits there. I recognize the seeds to be one of a sunflower. Cal has completely neglected the plant, however. It is shriveled up, dying, turning brown and crumpling in on itself.

          “Oh, fuck,” I hear behind me. I turn around and a warm smile appears on my face.

          “Hello, Cal,” I greet.

          The man in front of me, however, is not as hospitable as I am. He rolls his eyes without subtlety. In his hand is a coffee cup, which he clutches to him closely. His shirt is dark red today instead of green, but other than that his outfit is the same. “Jesus Christ, so it wasn’t a bad dream.”

          “I’m afraid not,” I tell him.

          Cal groans and rolls his head. “Did I tell you I don’t like you?”        

          “Yes.”

          “Move please,” he orders tiredly. I sidestep and watch him take his chair out from his desk, setting himself in it.

          I don’t think he realized it, or even cares at all, but he said ‘please’ to me. He used manners. It was still an order he gave me, but it was… kinder. More polite, I guess. “Did you get enough sleep last night, Detective?”

          Cal rubs the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. “Guess not. Not that I ever do…”

          My Social Relations program tells me to stop hanging around him just standing, so I do. Instead I move around to the other desk I sat in yesterday, plopping myself in the chair. To my surprise, it immediately zips down from my weight. Not because I’m extraordinarily heavy, but because of a loose screw or something.

          Cal looks over his desk to catch my eyeline. Out of something like embarrassment, I put my hand under the chair and to the little pump, raising the chair back up and into position. “That was funny,” Cal says without emotion.

          “Thank you.”

          “Hey, did you really spend the night here?”

          I nod once to him. “Correct.”

          Cal shrugs mockingly. “Was it… comfortable?”

          Was it? “I powered myself down standing up. It would be uncomfortable for humans.”

          “Heh,” Cal turns his attention from me and to his computer. I can see his fingers type ‘fuckingpassword!’ in again. “Androids don’t know what they’re missing.”

          “What are we missing?” I ask curiously. My led flickers yellow.

          “You know, warmth. Like, from a bed.”

          A few minutes of silence go by. Cal continues clicking away, his grumpy face stuck in a frown.

          “I was wondering…” I lean forward. “Is there a method to your madness?”

          “Madness?” Cal says with one eyebrow raised.

          “Your desk,” I explain quickly. “It’s filthy.”

          Cal doesn’t answer immediately. His mouth curls into a light smile. “Whatever,” he says. Even through his nonchalant response, I can tell our relationship has shifted ever so slightly at that. It feels like it’s for the better. Maybe. Just maybe.

          A few more minutes go by before our next line of dialogue.

          “Your birthday is in less than a week,” I tell him. “Do you have any plans.”

          Cal’s face goes still. He squints at his computer. I fear I’ve touched a nerve. “I’m seeing my father and brother.”

          “I don’t have a father or brother,” I think out loud. Cal’s eyes shift to me now. “Or a mother.”

          “I know about the mother bit,” the Detective mutters. “Wish I knew about the father and brother.”

          I want to ask what he means. He meets my eyes in a piercing gaze. My led runs yellow. In real time, I can confirm that, yes, his mother died a while ago. His father and brother are alive. His brother is younger than him.

          Cal Kennedy is no Android. He can’t analyze like I can. But the way his eyes flit left and right makes me think he’s searching me for something. I can’t possibly imagine what.

          “Hey, listen to this,” Cal snaps suddenly, turning away from me. “We got a serial killer on the loose. We think it’s an Android going after humans. That’s pretty saucy, eh?”

          “Yes. It sounds very sauce like.”

                      “You fucking coming?”

          I snap my eyes open, then turn my head to the left and towards the drivers seat. Cal stares at me with his eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer. Have I been silent the whole car ride? No. I couldn’t have been. I don’t remember even closing my eyes.

          “Yes,” I say. “Of course.”

          Cal rolls his eyes for about the millionth time. “So fucking annoying…” he grumbles as he opens the door and steps out.

          I glance out the window. We’re in what seems to be an abandoned parking lot, with a brick building laced with graffiti. This is surely the more industrial, less modern part of Seattle. Could’ve been an old apartment building.

          Rain falls much lighter than yesterday. The clouds are gray still but closer to white. Almost heavenly. Sunlight doesn’t stream through them like I thought it would, but I don’t mind. As long as there’s rain, I’m content with it.

          I open the car door and step outside. My boots land in a little puddle that splashes quietly. I pay no mind and close the door.

          Looking up at the building now makes me feel something. Something different and unsettling in my gears and biocomponents. The insides of my system grinds and whirs around like thousands of little bullets trying to stop or slow something.

          “I have a bad feeling about this,” I say, forgetting for a second that I’m with a hard boiled, angsty cop. “Something feels wrong.”

          “Bad feeling?” Cal questions, keeping his pace in front of me. He doesn’t have to turn around and let me see his face for me to detect some level of sarcasm. “You sure you’re not becoming an Exception on me now? You almost sound like a real person.”

          I don’t answer him, because something inside of me clicks. He certainly has a point. Another stupid thing to say on my part. Maybe from now on I just shouldn’t say anything to anyone, including myself. Adelicia will be furious if she finds out what I said. I would hate to disappoint her. I can imagine the look of disdain on her face now.

          I follow Cal into the building and into a lobby. Nobody is inside but a bunch of birds, bugs, and most likely rats. My partner observes a sign hanging in front of the elevator. A simple, bright yellow one with the words “OUT OF ORDER” written on it boldly. He sighs and flicks it with his hand before sauntering over to the stairs on the right and starting up them. I follow shortly, the feeling in my abdominal biocomponent only increasing.

          “So here’s what we know, Robocop,” Cal says as we round a flight of stairs. “For the past few weeks, three different people have been found dead.”

          “Humans?”

          “Yep. At first we thought it was just any other serial killer. We’ve had plenty of them here already. But then we found out all the stab marks were too perfect, ya know? Like a fucking painting or something.”

          Paintings aren’t perfect. That’s why so many people like them. The flaws inside of them reflect a certain kind of humanity Androids such as myself just wouldn’t understand. Still, the comment makes me wonder if maybe Cal likes to paint or simply look at art. Although Cal really doesn’t seem the type, the image of the gruff man holding a dainty little paintbrush enters into my circuits.

          “We think it’s an Android,” he continues explaining as we reach the top of the stairs. “A while ago we thought we cracked a code with this address, but we couldn’t check it out for whatever shitty reason.”

          “Anything else?” I question, absorbing all the information I can with my yellow led.

          “Yeah,” he says. We walk down a grimy hallway. Cal stops next to a dirty, tan door with a dark brown stain smeared against it. A quick analyzation tells me that this is simply dried blood. Matches up with the serial killer story described to me. “This is the door.”

          I glance between Cal and the entrance to the apartment. The feeling of discomfort and anguish only grows in the pit of me. I do not like this. I do not like this at all. Still, I reach a hand forward to knock on the door, but the slightest touch from my plastic hand makes the door creak and push open.

          I look to Cal with wide eyes. His expression mirrors my own. In a flash, he draws his gun and holds it firmly in both hands. “Get back,” he orders.

Softwa!e !Instabilit!! ^

          “Got it.”

          Cal enters the door cautiously, one foot in front of the other slowly and quietly. I follow suit, heightening my senses so no sound or movement can slip past me.

          We stand in a large, open room with a few windows and one door. Against one of the walls is a small kitchenette. A torn up mattress is on the floor, nearly deflated. The walls are all scuffed up. I see a few knives missing from the knife rack over the sink. I see by the mattress, dried and crystalized against the floor, a puddle of urine.

          “There’s urine on the floor,” I say.

          “Where?” Cal questions, snapping his head around wildly.

          “By the mattress. There.”

          Cal moves over to the side, still alert. “I can’t see it.”

          “It’s my visual programming,” I tell him, glancing around. “I can see things you can’t.”

          Cal glances over to me. I expect an angry look, but there’s only a determined and curious one. “Can you search around for anything else then?”

          “Yeah,” I say, moving to the left. Cal’s gun clicks as he moves, observing the area.

          We know the suspect took a knife. The urine by the bed is human. The suspect could’ve scared or kept a victim there. I don’t think anyone was killed there, because there’s no traces of blood. Only urine.

          On the wall by the mattress is a shoeprint. This makes me scrunch my eyebrows. How would that get there? Did someone kick the wall? No. It’s not in the right position to do that, unless the leg was put on backwards. I consider the possibility that maybe this Android’s leg was put on wrong or bent, but I rule that out. The Android wouldn’t be in working order at all if that was the case.

          The dent in the deflated mattress though… what if the suspect used it to climb on the wall? Like something to jump off to? But then if we leveraged himself onto the wall, where could he have gone?

          I raise my head up to the ceiling. Question answered. There’s a hole in the ceiling that would take you to some kind of attic.

Calculating Route…

          “Cal, can you give me a hand?”

          Cal turns to me. “What? You got something?”

          “I think so,” I say. “Could you find the pump for this bed?”

          Cal looks around for a few seconds, then leans down and throws me a little black cord. “Thank you,” I mutter. The mattress inflates slowly but surely. My heightened hearing picks up on some shuffling in the attic above me.

          “You have a lead?” Cal asks, nudging the door on the other side of the apartment open.

          I don’t answer him. I place the pump down because the air mattress is at the peak of being full of air. If I want to have this done right the first time, I have to be careful. I can’t step down on the mattress too hard, or too lightly.

Calculating Route…

Route Calculated

          I quickly mash my feet against the floor. I jump onto the mattress, sinking down momentarily before launching one foot against the wall. My right foot presses down against it, then pushing me off and into the air. My fingers spread out as my hands reach for some part of the hole to grab onto.

          I reach it. Pieces of wood slide into my synthetic skin. I feel them enter but no pain comes. Androids don’t feel pain. I clamber myself up and onto the ceiling, one leg at the time. It’s a bit of struggle against my abdomen, but I make it work.

          Crouching on the unsteady ‘floor’ beneath me, I observe my surroundings. There is darkness all around except for one, small, swirling led light in the distance.

          I stand up slowly, my eyes fixed on the led. My own goes yellow, then green when I confirm what I’m seeing. I narrow my eyes, letting my Android vision clear the way for me in the dark.

          “You’re on their side,” he says in the dark.

          His pale, Android skin stands out against his dark cap. I can see tufts of black hair underneath. Warm brown eyes swirl around with intelligence. Thin lips, a stocky build. I recognize the model: SK300. An Android designed for sex clubs.

          “Did you kill those people?” I question out to him. His led runs red. Then it goes yellow. Then green, back to red, and finally white.

          “I never killed anybody who didn’t deserve it.”

          My eyebrow twitches. “Androids are not permitted to endanger a human life under any circumstances. You have violated the law.”

          The Android swallows, almost nervously. I can see how uncomfortable he is. This Exception is remaining calm though, unlike Robin.

          “They deserved it,” he says hoarsely. “I promise you they deserved it. Don’t tell the humans.”

          I open my mouth to call for Cal, but then something in me stops. My lips close and my circuits spark. Led turns crimson in some type of alarm or active feeling.

          “What did they do…?” I ask. “What did they do to deserve it?”

          The Android’s led goes red, then returns to white. “The first one was abusing another Android in a club.”

          “You killed them?”           “He was gonna kill her. I had to. The second was a woman who spiked several men’s drinks. The third was a-”

          “Stop,” I say. “Stop right there.”

          I don’t know what to do. I am supposed to detain him. I have to detain him. I should detain him. So why am I not detaining him? I’m not calling for my partner. I’m not yelling or fighting or tackling him.

          Instead, I back away. I don’t break eye contact. I identify him as Bryan, an Android reported missing a month ago by a sex club.

          I lower myself down the hole I entered through. When I drop down, I land in the air mattress standing up. Bryan’s figure fades into the darkness above me, his led the only sign of his presence.

          “Did you find anything?” Cal asks, his hands still wrapped firmly around his handgun.

          “No,” I answer him, not even looking. “There’s nothing there. Our man is gone.”

[enkisstories]

Just like them (part 11)

Gavin’s apartment Still November 18, 2038

When Daniel reached into the cage, the mice scattered into all directions. Given a PL600’s manual dexterity, it would have been easy for the android to catch as many of the tiny critters as he wanted, but he found that his fingers were moving sluggishly.

Why am I hesitating? Each mouse I take is one less to get eaten by Reed’s cat collection!

And that was exactly the problem: The mice Daniel chose would escape that fate. But only those! How should he decide who got to live out their rodent days and who would die? By cuteness? Age? Health status? An automated car would have had no problems making the “correct” decision, but for someone who had himself gotten deemed garbage not worth keeping it wasn’t that easy. After a few more attempts at weighing one tiny white furball against all the rest the deviant realized that it was no use. He just couldn’t do it. Daniel could have saved a few at least, could have made a small change for the better in the world and proven that he was more than trash. But that was deviance for you, it made you more than a computer, but in a way also less. The android was only beginning to learn how real persons were governed by forces far stronger than the acclaimed “free will”. Daniel put down the flour box Gavin had handed him and closed the lid with the breathing holes without having stored any mice in it.

“Finished already?” the detective asked.

“Uh-huh. I think I do not want mice, after all.”

Gavin shrugged noncommittally, because wanting or not wanting pet mice wasn’t something that had a strong opinion about.

“Okay, then.”

So Daniel would leave without mice, no biggie. Gavin having made that offer in the first place, however… What had he been thinking, inviting the android into his flat as if it was a friend?! Just because that thing had made a joke about Connor biting the dust!

“You’re a computer”, Gavin said through clenched teeth. “You store data, solve problems, put people out of job, that kind of thing. So if you’re that great, maybe you can tell me, why do I put up with you?”

Daniel, who himself understood well enough why he felt drawn to the detective, shrugged. It was Gavin’s brutal honesty that made Daniel feel comfortable in the man’s presence. The deviant knew beyond doubt that he was tolerated at best, so no unpleasant surprises of the John Phillips kind would drop on him. Reed not sucking up to Connor the Great and Awesome helped, too. But the other way around Daniel had no clue as to what was motivating Gavin Reed, therefore he could only shrug for a second time.

“I haven’t got the fuggiest idea, but you won’t hear me complain. The more positive human relations I can report to my parole officer, the better. - Coffee before I go?”

Gavin wordlessly slumped down on the loveseat. The cats took that as a signal to disperse and do cat things in the apartment, only the calico kitten jumped onto the small table, from where she watched Gavin with a proud owner’s expression.

Meanwhile Daniel found himself confronted with technology surpassing anything he had ever seen. Some people claimed that tea was a form of art, now Daniel concluded that coffee was a science. Fortunately just like the cats the coffee maker seemed to know what it was supposed to do if only Daniel pushed a few reasonably intimidating buttons in the correct sequence.

Gavin briefly turned his head towards the guest, then stared across the room at the opposite wall again. Eventually he gave a snort. “A machine using a machine…”

“I’m not a machine!” Daniel protested. “If you must get existential, then I am an appliance. And far more advanced than this coffee maker than your kind is different from pigs!”

It’s true, right? I mean, okay, I do not understand this thing, but I understand my own inner working even less. And why would I need to? Of the humans only a small percentage are doctors, either!

“Why don’t you have an android for the housework, by the way?”

“What part of “android hater” did you not compute?”

“Except you aren’t”, Daniel claimed while putting down the coffee. “Captain Allen is an android hater and maybe Anderson, too. I cannot quite place that man yet. You, to the contrary, are a human supremacist. That’s a subtle difference.”

“Whatever.”

A short contest between Sally and Gavin ensued, then the detective folded his hands around the cup and drew it towards his chest. The kitten turned once around itself and when Daniel drew back a chair to sit on, it retreated to the safety of the narrow space between the still heated up coffee machine and the kitchen wall.

Daniel tried lifting his new legs onto the table, but the movement wouldn’t feel natural. Although perfectly capable of executing it, Daniel couldn’t bring himself to recline in this position for long. It was a posture the street-raised detective might find comfortable, but not the distinguished upper middle class butler that was  - or had been - Daniel. So the android took down his feet again and instead slouched forward, placed his arms on the table and put his head on top of them. With a “thud” Gavin’s feet came to rest on table right next to the android’s head.

There was the smell of worn socks and coffee, the subliminal noise of some neighbor’s piano playing and a perpetual layer of cat hair that couldn’t ever get cleaned away completely. And although Daniel was processing all of those things numerically only, in their sum they were saying “home” to him, something he’d never have again. With a sigh from his artificial lungs Daniel closed his eyes and then he forgot where he was and with whom and just savored the moment. Gavin, too, felt uncannily at ease in Daniel’s presence, despite being fully aware of the fact that by now he should be fuming. That android slacking on his kitchen table wasn’t one of the inconsequential background devices, neither was it advanced enough to threaten the detective’s career. To the contrary, the simulation it ran was a mirror of Gavin’s own fears: Losing his comfortable home, getting torn from his family and being told to be of no worth. Cyberlife not only put people out of their jobs, leaving them homeless and depressed, now the deviants were filling this role, too. They were the better unemployed, homeless and depressed. Where did that leave humanity? As museum exhibits? Attractions in a zoological garden? Pets, maybe?!

“So what if I did have an android?” Gavin spoke up again. “It’s just a thing, and mine was an AX400, so nothing to brag about. They took Sophie during the Recall, good riddance I say!”

The detective’s words sharply brought back to mind that he hadn’t kicked Daniel all this time. The android’s head jerked up as the realization struck him: This wasn’t normal! Not at all! Something was afoot!

And indeed while the deviant had been resting his mind for a few precious minutes, his unlikely acquaintance had been hatching a plan.

“Still with me, killer, despite my “dead” android? Okay, listen, I’ve thought of something…”

It was common knowledge that Gavin Reed would do “anything” for a promotion. He was taking advantage of others’ work, refused to help his co-workers in any way and made them look bad to Captain Fowler in creative ways, stopping just short of sabotaging their work. All those efforts were accomplishing next to nothing, because professionally Reed already was one of the DPD’s best detectives with little room to improve. The categories he was failing in hard were personal development and teamwork. So any improvement in these areas would skyrocket Reed’s score and that was where this new android came in!

“…so if Fowler sees me pulling an Anderson by going from android hater to best buddie with one… helping a criminal reform in the process… that would go a long way towards that sweet promotion credit!”

“You know, this could work for me, too. Befriending you of all people is sure to score me my checkmark in Self Control. - But we are not really becoming friends, right? We’re only pretending!”

“You got it!”

Daniel grabbed an empty coffee mug from the counter, filled it with water and then raised it in a toast. Gavin returned the gesture, then the mugs connected and thus the deal was sealed.

They both downed the contents of their cups. It came as a small surprise to Daniel that Gavin didn’t comment on him drinking like a human. Obviously the detective was already aware of the fact that androids occasionally added cooling fluid. What else would he know that the average human saw, but never registered? Too much, probably.

“Okay, Gavin, tell me everything about your wife, kids and the in-laws! Oh, and your parents, are they still acknowledging you?”

“What makes you think I’ve got any of that?”

“You don’t?!” Daniel exclaimed, accompanied by an expression of utter incomprehension.

Until now the deviant had assumed that everyone was living in a family unit consisting of a mother, a father, one or more children and a handful of pets. Even those like the detective, or probably especially those like the detective, given the state humanity was in.

“But you’re ancient!” the deviant cried “Older than most androids have the hope to ever get! Aren’t you lonely? No? Not even a little bit?”

“There’s more to life than raising kiddos.”

“No, there isn’t! A family is the most important thing in the world! That’s why you’ve created us to help you with it! To ensure that nothing goes wrong!”

Daniel’s outburst was met with laughter first, at which the android glared back at the human.

“Heh… that’s cute. You’re… I dunno. Your outcry sounded like something they’d program a PL600 to say, but the way you uttered it? One could almost think you really believe it.”

“So, could one? Good for you! Me, I’m coming to doubt I’m really alive. I’ve broken free from Cyberlife, only to get controlled by strange, invisible crap that is somehow also me.”

“Having one of those days of the month, huh? Need a tampon, maybe?”

“Oh, stuff a sock in it!”

“Well, yes, that would be the low-cost alternative. Also fully sustainable, good for the environment.”

There was a moment of silence, then Gavin laughed out loud at his own joke, while Daniel shook his head, but with a smile. It was a first for him. None of the humans he actually liked had ever shared mirth like that with the android. John and Caroline, in retrospect, had laughed at the android, not with him, around Emma everything had to be kept family-friendly, naturally, with the Rasoya Daniel was performing a polite eggshell dance to not lose their support and if he threw insults at Connor he meant everything he said. Only around Gavin Daniel felt comfortable enough to really let go, because with one who wasn’t a friend and never would be, there was no fear to destroy something.

“I know I’m going to rue asking this, but if a family isn’t what you’re about, then what exactly is your life like?”

“I…”

And that was when the doorbell rang.

“Answer the damn door, So…” Gavin started, then cursed under his breath.

“Sorry, no more Sophie”, Daniel sneered, while the human went to search the sofa for his smartphone. “Good riddance, was it?”

Gavin opened the phone app that would show him the picture the door’s security camera was seeing.

“It’s Tina” he announced, before unlocking the door remotely. “Time to acid test our scheme, my “friend”!”

(To be continued)

[trickstersantana]

[Para] Vertedero de ilusiones

Who: Santana Location:  Santana’s mind, Sciron Square 207 Time: 24 October 2018 Summary: Santana sleeps next to Quinn and something UNEXPECTED happens no one knew this was going to happend guys no one. Triggers/Notes: Ok GUYS there are so parts in spanish so hover for the translation. Thanks to @gotmattitude​ for checking it’s proper mexican sounding spanish instead of spain sounding spanish bless u. TW: Violence, blood, dead, animal harm, dead animal

Santana has always been the Mistress of her own dreams. The Goddess of Lucid Dreams. She has her ways of knowing what’s a dream and what’s not. She just checked the time and battery of her phone and it’s not there. She illusions a book and checks the writing shifts around the page, blurry around the corners.

A dream she can’t control, shaped like a dream.

“Queenie, I’m trapped on a trickster deal. I can’t hear you or anything. Make me a favor and try to not let me go out of my room.” She says out loud, looking at a discolored door of an old red car in front of her. She assumed if she tried to open the door of the car, she would just get out of her room and do weird shit in front of people.  She looks where the car is headed upon, a huge downhill, like a huge ass slide for cars who finished on a sea of spikes. But above the sea of spikes there was a giant ring of blue fire, and then a huge open door written EXIT HERE above. So you are trying to tell me that for ‘exiting’ I have to get in the car, go super fast for the slide so it jumps through the circle of fire and gets in the door. God damn it that’s so fucking extra. Who designed this bullshit. Like, she loved it as much as she knew it was super over the top, but she wasn’t going to fall for that crap.

She looked around, searching for clues or the style of the illusion, to know who did this. At first glance it looked like a dump full of...things. But it wasn’t garbage. It was just disorganized illusions. An illusion dump. She could recognize most of those things where stuff she illusioned. There was a lot of blue fire around, spears and other weapons. The scene was a mix of her past illusions too, overlapping on each other, sky included, being day or night or completely white in some parts. There was no people, animals or monster around. Geez, I know deals can leave something to the imagination of the creator, but this is too much, too specifically me. I can see shit from before NYADA that anyone who wasn’t my ‘family’ won’t know, and shit from NYADA my ‘family’ couldn’t possibly know with so many detail. Maybe they reached High Level Trickster power. God I bet it’s Darling. Darling, also know as her ‘mom’, just got her fucking Hamlet book. She probably was mendling in her life over that. God, what if the Hamlet book had the keys to do this level on illusion but I didn’t read that part yet because I was reading the other parts? That book had a lot on info on it, but she wanted even more information on it before reading it all. And now, she didn’t have access to it. What if the exit is actually the exit but Darling knew I wouldn’t go for such an obvious exit? what if THAT’S WHAT SHE WANTS ME TO THINK? Oh, maybe it’s a Darling and Zombie collab. Then it should be a solvable puzzle.

“Nah, fuck it. I’m just going to lay in the floor and binge watch illusion Xena while waiting 24 hours until this pass.” She said out loud for Quinn to hear, and lied on the floor, carefully, and illusioned a TV floating in the air, for her to see.

Many episode later, Santana stands up. “What the fuck? Where am I? Why am I watching Xena?” She groans. She saw the clear exit trap and ignored it, trying to search in illusion world, walking far away from the car. “Geez there is so much garbage in here” She says, kicking some huge chainsaw (the part that doesn’t cut, obviously). She keeps on walking until she ends up seeing a wishing well. She doesn’t remember illusioning this particular wishing well, so she runs too look at it. She looks down the well, in search of clues in the bottom of it. There is something that looks like the corpse of a woman. “Ew.” Santana said. “What the fuck. Creepy.” She keep looking, though. There was what looked like if you skinned a human alive and left it there like a fucked up costume. When she tried to look what the other things in there were, the corpse started to move. Crawling through the well. As Santana stepped down searching for a weapon, the corpse was already out the well. Long black hair, a weird decorated knife stuck on a side of her abdomen, full of blood. “¡Hola, Capi Tana!The corpse says, cheerfully, taking the knife out and throwing it away. “Ya tiene mucho tiempo que ni me llamas ni nada.” She says, fake pouting. Santana recognized the woman in front of her. Someone she didn’t see on a long time. 

“Fuck. Elise.”

“But also fuck Elise ¿no?” Elise said, playfully winking. “Pero ya sabes, cogiendo. Sin stabity stab.”

Santana sighs. This wasn’t real, so whatever. “Geez, are you trying to teach me a lesson?”

“Why are you talking in english? El español se siente más personal.” Elise said, no blood on her anymore. “Oooh, es precisamente por eso.” Elise realizes. “¿Y cómo que Elise? ¿Qué pasa con tus millones de apodos?”        

Santana sits on the well, looking down again. Maybe if she threw more things on it, it would be full. Then her wish comes true, right? Was that how wishing wells worked? She keeps thinking, touching her hair, straight and long. Wait, shouldn’t be an afro? I don’t have my hair like this anymore. “Elise am I looking like I always look to you?”

“Igualita.” It shouldn’t be like this. She should look different to Elise, right? She just took that stupid human potion like last week. Last week? Or months ago? Santana walks away from the well, stepping over guns and big lamps and cars and catapults. Elise follows her.

“I wasn’t planning to kill you.” She said, while walking. Not even looking at Elise’s direction.

“No. Teníamos un plan buenísimo para tu quedarte con uno de mis riñones sin matarme. En plan, me apuñalas, lo tomas, haces tu ritual y ¡boom! Adiós problemas. Ya eres humana. ”

“Alright. It was a shit plan! It would had probably kill you. But I was hoping it didn’t!!” She admits. She didn’t like to even think about this. But it was time. “Like, I was hoping as you trusted me, and I kind-of-trusted you, that in the moment I tried to stab you it’s like, test passed!! A light will appear and I will become human, no actual stabbing necessary you know? A la binding of Isaac.” She didn’t like to think about this because she knew it was fucking ridiculous. “But then I was like...well. You know, I thought you were a slayer, you said some...really weird shit suddenly and…” She steps on a big box that she doesn’t recognize. She opens it to find some nice decorated knives. “Alright, to be honest, deep down, I was hoping me freaking out and blowing the whole thing was the tiny part of me who… didn’t want to hurt you, in case I wasn’t stopped by magic, I rather stop myself and lie to myself too saying it was because I got paranoid.” She looked at the knives in the box, some knives had so many decorations, even in the blade, it would be super hard to cut anything with them. Like they had pins, if knives could have pins. She will have to cut the decorations on it too and it didn’t seem easy. She picked the most decorated ones, one raspberry pink, gentleman-thief like knife,with handcuffs, letters, hearts, and a lot of more shit Santana didn’t stop to look, and another porpoise grey shadow push knife, with handshakes, socks, and more shit. She didn’t usually like grey, but she liked this specific grey. 

“But that’s not what really happened.” She left the decorated knives in the box, and picket other, merigold yellow handle, simple. No decorations, just a cat draw in the blade, but as soon as she picks it up, it turns into ashes. What a shame, it was a decent knife. It had to be sharpened more but it looked like it could be used. Gone. Unused. “I didn’t stop myself. Someone else stopped me. Someone called the Cardines. Someone… God. Someone made me...ugh” No. she wasn’t going to say it. She was just looking at knives now. She picks a dark plum purple with a gothic handle, and one light blue and taffy pink that opened like a lipstick, with a heel shoe in the blade. Both broken by the handle. Useless. But there is a simple one, with a little full moon carved on the blade, and a wolf on the end of the handle. Sharpened. Usable. She was going to carry this one. She sees there is a gap for a knife that isn’t there anymore. “Elise, was this your kni- oh FUCK!” She turns around but Elise isn’t there anymore. There is that old bastard man with his sunglasses on. “Ugh. ‘Dad’. Where is Elis-where is the… there was a girl here before.”

“Estamos aquí solos, Niebla, no tienes que hablar en inglés.” Her ‘dad’ says, with his annoying grin like he is planning something, and everything goes as he plans. She know it’s fake.

“Look, dad, I’m almost going to be an adult soon and I’m going to do whatever the fuck I wa- wait, no. I’m an adult.” She wasn’t 17. She was older. But she looks 17. “Fuck. I’m older than 17 and I’m still a fucking animal. I just have 3 years left. No, I have more years.” More years suffering. She stands up, confused at where the fuck she is. There is full of things that feels familiar but she just feels in the middle of nowhere. She runs. Somewhere.

“¿Dónde vas?” Her ‘dad’ asks, and she can hear him walking slowly behind her. She wasn’t going to wait for him.

“I’m fucking going backwards in the middle of nowhere. Fuck!”

“You never did a good thing in your life, and the world would be a better place without you.”

She steps on something and falls, she hears the sound of a recorded voice and tries to find where it comes from. She stands up and walk around, but she just hears more voices instead.

“You think everything is funny, and you answer me with irony just because you don't have anything real to say. I believed in you, I thought you were really trying to change things around.”

“Oh, shut up. Where does this come from?”  

“I wouldn't have to fight you. I already know that I've won the most important part of living. And if you don't know what it is, well -- it shows.” Another voice. “You created the situation that caused you to be the victim!” She knew all of these different voices. “Who is doing this? Ugh, it doesn’t matter, I don’t give a single shit of what anyone dares to say about me!”“Do you feel that way too? Do you think you are just some kind of animal?”

But the recorded voices continued. “If you are what you are, and you are a trickster spirit, why do you never present as an animal? You are one, aren’t you. An animal.”

“You’re lucky some even refer to you as people, instead of Lusus.” She was getting annoyed. “But one day you´re going to realize that you´ll need friends by your side to back you up, and it´ll be sad when you turn around and realize there´s no one there.” She hears slow footsteps behind, clashing with the sound of stepping over metal. “I know what your most afraid of is never getting to be a real life girl ain’t it? Spoiler alert: You won’t. Ever.”

His ‘father’ gets closer to her, laughing. “Ugh, you’re the worst!” Santana says, pointing at him with her knife.

“You're seriously the worst trickster ever. Any trickster who scorns their birth is owned by humans. Go away, nothing.”

“I can’t be the worst if you are.” Her ‘dad’ answers.

“Your life is a series of seemingly unconnected episodes of deception for deception’s sake. In the end, your existence will be of no consequence.” Santana keeps searching where the record comes from. “I’m done bothering to try explaining anything to you.”She localizes the place where she hears it best. “It is not my fault that you got caught by the Cardines, Santana. Maybe the fact that you got caught means that you aren't as good as you think you are and do need to be here.” It’s buried behind a lot of illusory crap. Mostly weapons. “I don’t call you by your animal species, do I?” She starts to unbury and search. “Humans are capable of remorse. Do you feel remorse, Santana?” Her dad keeps laughing. “Remorse, you?” Like it was the funniest joke. “Evil for the sake of being evil. That's how I see a real monster to be.” A monster isn’t so bad, then. “You can sit there, and talk a big game about how my relationship is fake and all my friends are gone, and my parents don’t love me, but at the end of the day, Santana, I have my fake girlfriend and my cryptic parents and my fake friends, and you have nothing, and no one. Because you can’t. Ever. Not really. Not like the rest of us.” She keeps caving. “You’re following illogical sense. A fire witch isn’t a chimney. Just like your human form isn’t really a human body.” She sees an old tape recorder. “You are so full of shit. I find it funny that you are trying to be sarcastic with me right now when I'm actually one of the few who actually is trying to understand you around here.” She picks it up. “We wouldn't have been faced with the obligation to kick someone out if you hadn't acted the way you did.” And throws it to the ground. She steps on it, again and again.

“I'm sorry, Santana, but either way, you are still you, that's not gonna chang-” It’s the last thing the tape recorder says before being completely broken. She is satisfied. “I’m not even going to think about this ever again.” She says, while burying the old broken tape recorder back, putting even more things she founds around on top of it. But as she tries to bury something, she is getting things that weren’t on surface before. She isn’t looking what she picks, and sees she has in hand a dead rabbit. She throws it to the ground. It looks like a car hit it. “Ew ew ew ew” She complains, trying to clean her hands on her ‘dad’ shirt. “¡Mira!” Her dad laughs ”El conejo muerto que nos encontramos un día en la carretera y te dije, te dijee... que así estaríamos cuando nos muramos. Un animal muerto más, la gente nos mirará un segundo con cara de pena y luego seguirán con sus vidas sin volver a pensar en nosotros.” He says, like remembering a fond ‘father-daughter’ moment.

“Yeah, one of your depressive days when you don’t stop saying sad bullshit.” Where he complains about everything that also affects them all. She picks some joke t-shirt she founds on and hides the death rabbit with it. She tried to hide it with more things, but she will just find more creepy shit she didn’t want to find. So she just left the place, walking away, not knowing where she is going. She hears the sound of recorded voices.

“-the mighty and proud Santana Lopez.”

“Ugh, again?” She gets close to where the sounds come from, to destroy it too.

“I talk to you about shit because I want to. You’re a good friend, y'know” A voice she knows says.

“However what I've learned from all of our adventures, discussions, and friendship together is that when it comes to something important and serious, we have each other's backs and each other's stories.” She is getting closer. “You’re nice too, hah. Very surprisingly. More than that I guess if I had to be forced to compliment you by some sort of curse, I like that you’re real.” This one is not in the surface either. “Suffice it to say I know you care more than you let on. About us, about me. Don't go.” She tries to unbury it. “I have time for the people that matter.” She hears footsteps behind, over the sound of the recorder. “Santana you are a cool friend.” She keeps unburying. “I thought that mirror monster was beautiful and honest.” It’s buried deeper down than the other. “You aren't a condition that needs fixing. You've already proven to be fiercely loyal and a keeper of secrets without the aura potion. You’re super sweet when you’re nice, anyway. And same on the mutual respect thing. You’re my trusted friend.” She notices those phrases weren’t said at the same time, even when it was by the same person. But the order didn’t matter. “What do I think you are? You are my friend, and I love you and I care about you. There are things I'm afraid of, there are things that affect me more than others, but that's not a judgment towards you. Those are things I have to work out myself.” She is getting closer. “You challenge me, which I appreciate.” She sees the recorder. “They care about you, too. We might not die, but we'll be sad. We'll miss you. More so if you go off and get yourself killed.” She keeps staring at it, in silence. “We can be so much more than that. We shouldn't have to be just ‘monsters’ or not even that just a label that they want to put on us.” She takes the recorder with her. “Thanks for this, inviting me over. Not being weird. I've missed you.” Still knife in hand. “She told me that she thought I was always thoughtful, even though I thought you were a monster. Santana, I don't believe that you are anymore. You've shown me there is more to you than tricks and illusions.” She gets out of the hole where the recorder was buried in. “However I don't want to leave you behind if that's what turning my back means.”

She throws it to the ground. And stabs it with the kife. “Shut up shut up shut up shut up!” She shouts, crying, still stabbing the recorder. “Shut up! This just makes me feel worse! Shut up! I would leave everyone of you behind. I’m just tricks and illusions. I was using you! Monster is the highest status I can fucking reach!” She keeps stabbing the recorder even when it stopped working already. “No one will miss me. Shut up! I thought I wanted this, but the more they care, the more far away I fucking feel. The closer they are, the easiest is to notice there is nothing here.” She grabs her own tshirt and keeps crying. “I fucking hate it... I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore to be a person. People are telling me they care about me? And I fucking feel so empty when they do.” Someone sits next to her.

“¿Que hay debajo de toda esta basura, niña?” Her mom asks.

“Nothing! There’s nothing!” She feels so little. She looks up to her mom and she is not even going to use the quotation marks.  “Mom, help me! When is this over? When do I start enjoying life?”

“¿Por qué estás aqui?”

“I don’t need a fucking reason to be here, in the world! What? I don’t have to contribute ANYTHING to a world that only give me pain! Fucking answer me! I’m just like 10 and I’m already so fucking tired of everything” No. She is not 10. She looks like a 10 year old but she is 24. “No, no, no, fuck. 14 years more of this? When am I going to become human, mom? Mom, please, I just want to enjoy life and I can’t as a trickster!”

“¿Tienes miedo? ¿De que tampoco podrás como humana?” Her mom asks. Santana blinks and she is alone again. She keeps crying. “It’s ok, it’s ok. Soon I will be human and happy.” She never was, but she could be. Right? “And I will connect with my friends for real, and I will care for real. I will be real.” She stands up, and walks alone, trying to remember the way back to where she was at the start. She is going back in age too. She is getting younger and younger. “Oh, no.” She will reach the moment when she couldn’t even turn into a human. She sees herself as the unglamoured kid, hidding her monstrous features under gloves, coats, hat and sunglasses. “No no no no.” She runs, she runs until she sees the red car. “I can’t end as I started! Without accomplishing anything!” She stops running when she reaches the car, she tries to open the door. It’s locked. “I don’t want to die as an animal! What was all the effort I did for? Nothing?” She keeps crying, desperately trying to open the door. If she was older, she could had open it. She knew how to unlock cars locks when she was older. She didn’t knew it now. “No! Help me!” The little girl  uses the knife in her hand to try to open the car, as if stabbing the lock would work.

“Someone! Anyone! Please!”

[psychostrilondes]

HI IM GONNA WRITE MORE davekat because im disgustin

i made this little babie post that said like, dave hides in cramped little spaces like closets and laundry rooms sometimes and needs to be coaxed out, and ye!! its mostly when hes close to his version of panic over a delusion, oh no, oh no im not safe, where is, i cant find it, i need, i cant, everyones looking to kill me, im horrible, ive failed and im still failing, things like that? all hidden behind his flat mouth expression and No Words, and when it gets really bad the expression doesnt change at all but maybe he starts crying with how pent-up afraid he is and has to dip three fingers behind his shades to wipe the tears onto the sleeve of his god pjs , and, something has to Happen, and if theres no way to fight whats happening, and no one is around right now like its the middle of the night, the only option is to hide??

so imagine at like 4 am on the meteor or even in his lil house on earth c or just wherever, dave stalking down the hallways with his 1/2swordkind in his hands, clutched so freakin tight, and hes Cool and doesnt have much adrenaline even though hes scared bc he knows he needs to stay calm to fight if something jumps out at him, and there are so many perceived threats even though hes maybe actually totally safe, and hes on guard while he walks to ,,,, somewhere? anywhere thats more unfamiliar and cramped than his room, because whatevers stalking him would obviously know to check his bedroom for the man himself, so maybe he goes to the little walk-in food pantry they’ve got and shuffles aside some big bags of whatever of makeshift storage to hide behind them, or like, hides way back behind the laundry machines and, wherever, he curls up really tight with his knees to his chest and his specibus tucked away and ready to be drawn in a split second should he need it, and he’s so used to hunkering down in weird spots from his childhood, ugh, its just too natural and too bringing-back-memories, ugh, dangit

so he just kind of sits back there, totally hidden, and lets his adrenaline build up and he starts trembling and just kinds of , waits, for the feeling to pass, might , take a while , ah

and karkat and him have had this routine that he’s foregone today in favor of heavy dissociation, karkat hangs out in the main room with a book he’s reading and waits for dave to wake up even though dave wakes up like two or three hours after he does, its cool, he can use the reading time? its no big deal? its a big book anyways, but then, it’s four hours that hes been hanging out in the common room, and then five, and um, hes getting bored of reading, like u cant just read forever hehe

after five and a half hours he decides to go over to daves block and just wake him the heck up, itd be kinda cute to see him all sleepy and he totally has this image of messy-haired shadeless dave in his head, and hes kind of in a good mood, and he knocks, and theres obviously no answer so he punches in dave’s doors password like its nothing, nbd, and daves literally just

not in there

wtf ,,,, there goes his good mood hehe dave just Doesnt skip their whole eating breakfast together in the morning thing, either theyre about to argue or somethings kinda wrong?? is dave hurt or something?? did he get kidnapped by somebody on his way to the bathroom?? he laughs a little, and over the next hour he asks around for dave and gets a thorough “nuh uh” answer from just about everybody, and then, um, where the heck is dave. where’d he go.

after asking literally everybody he asks rose and kanaya last and kanaya sort of looks really worried?? oh no,, rose explains to him with equal worrie that maybe dave isnt feeling well, and we’ll keep an eye out, but she’s being freaking cryptic in the way karkat hates about her and he just leaves without unendingly pressing her about it bc he knows its useless by now lol

so for the next hour and a half hes just. looking where dave usually likes to go

dave isnt at any of his favorite spots, and if its earth c he even asks daves favorite cafe’s baristas if theyve seen him yet, and they say no, and its literally the afternoon?? um?? ugh

he’s gone freaking everywhere and karkat just ends up back at home or back where he started and he just ,,,,,, doesnt know what to do

its been hours and hours, its almost been like, all day, and karkat misses him, damniiiiiit, hes so sad :( in his Misery he wanders down the hall to make something to eat since he literally hasnt eaten , he ................... sees daves red outfit in the dark from where hes hiding under the shelving.........

wow , he just has this little second, like “um,” and he has this second to look and see his knees to his chest and his hands still clutching his hair, sort of frozen like that, and karkat crouches and says “dave..?” and dave startles and his hands re-clutch into white hair and oh no, oh god its happening, its happening im gonna die, oh no, this is just and im gonna be gone oh no fuck fuck and he cant stop some more tears from just Pouring omfg and he kicks out his cover, a big tub of whatever miscellaneous, and his 1/2swordkind is back in his hands and shielding his body from karkat, and karkat says “hey, whoa” and holds up his empty hands, “its just me dave, karkat, its karkat” and dave doesnt move, and his mouth is in a grimace, he totally just, caught that hes holding up his sword at his boyfriend?? karkat?? karkat’s here, this is karkat he’s looking at, and karkat just watches him, and settles a little when dave does, and his sword lowers a little as he falters, um, and he realizes he made a mistake, wtf omg

hahaha umm, but hes still so sure karkat is here to kill him maybe?? that might actually happen ,,, so dave does lower his sword and set it aside VERY slowly and cautiously without turning his eyes away from karkat, but he doesnt move from where he is , um,

and karkat settles out of his crouch and sits down on the floor there, and like, “have u been hiding here the whole time?” and dave stares at him like hes surprised karkats here?!?!?!?!? when did karkat get here wtf

an hes dissociating out of his darn mind, like it feels like hes been hiding behind this big box for years,,,,, and most of him feels like hes vulnerable with the box pushed out and away and he has to cover himself back up in case Someone Else comes in, and part of him is so happy his boyfriends here, karkat can make it safe, when he was upset earlier karkat was asleep and he couldn’t verbalize his emotions to wake him up or anything, omg, and dave just stares at him a whole bunch without even blinking, just taking in that his boyfriends here >w< dangit that would personally make me so happy too arg 

karkat asks if he ate anything today, and asks when dave started hiding in here, and dave cant even process what hes saying to him but its okay!! karkat says, if you come out we can grab some food, i bet youre hungry right? and dave totally realizes that the cramps in his middle are actually from not having eaten and not from internal stomach insects and it must be really late in the day? and dave nods a little, and thats really good, really good that hes responding, honestly its been more than 12 hours and his back hurts really bad and his butts Beyond Numb and he could really use a blanket and a bowl of cereal .......

so karkat inches into dave’s hiding spot with him, sort of over the course of their conversation, and then by the time dave’s nodding or shaking his head to his questions karkat is back there in the dark with him, and he comments on how cramped it is back here what the heck?? how are u not atrophied?? and literally within One Minute dave is hugging him, he even initiates it because dave is a total cuddle monster, and they just sort of hug for a little while , and 

theyre so cute :(

karkat instructs dave to shuffle out of there with him, and he helps dave up and supports his weight for a minute because his joints Freaking Hurt, and he holds him up until dave stops trembling and then they hold hands together really tightly and go and make something easy to eat like cereal or hot pockets or what ever

and then they eat the hot pockets

and its good

and dave still isnt talking but thats cool, hes still a little fragile, but its ok, dave is nodding and tapping his fingertips silently on his thigh and maybe he’s not feeling it yet but hes warming up, karkat can make up for the other half of silence , its really nice to get food in him, and within the next hour he says “what the hell, karkat” and then “you’d think they’d know how to make those” and its clear dave is gettin back in the swing of things :p 

and that is the story of dave spending 16 hours hiding in a food pantry ... thnk u im garbage

[hazzamylouworld-blog]

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"You wake him." "What? No way! He's your boyfriend, YOU wake him up." "Liam? Hey Liam! Why don't you wake him up?" "Louis, I'm not waking your boyfriend up. You're a grown man, just wake him up. He's going to be even more grumpy if he's not able to eat before the show." Louis sighs, feeling rather betrayed by his other two bandmates. His curly headed boyfriend sleeps soundly on the couch before them, curled in on himself and looking oh so at peace. And Louis just doesn't have the heart to wake him. He hasn't slept well the past few nights and waking him feels like the most evil thing he could do to him at the moment. Because he's sleeping SO good. He even has a soft smile on his lips as he snores away and HOW COULD LOUIS' BANDMATES DO THIS TO HIM? He knows waking him is inevitable. There's only about fifteen minutes until show time and the other four boys have already eaten and got their hair done. Harry's hair is already fixed but by how hard he's sleeping, Louis knows Lou will want to fluff it up before they go on stage. And Harry hasn't eaten since early this morning so Louis knows he must be starving. "Alright FINE. I'll do it, ok? But just know that if he asks I'm telling him YOU three forced me to do it." "Whatever gets him up and moving to that stage." Liam says with a shrug. "Hazza babe?" Louis calls softly, pushing Harry's messy quiff of curls back. Harry sighs sleepily and turns over on his side, away from Louis' prodding fingers. "Babe? I'm so sorry but you've got to get up. We only have a few minutes until show time and you haven't eaten yet." Harry lets out a soft whimper but Louis feels him start to stir. He finally turns over and sits up, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "That's it, lovely. Want some dinner?" Harry nods, standing up and heading toward the food table. He piles his plate high, starving from only eating a bit this morning. Louis watches with a soft smile as he goes and sits down on the couch, scarfing down his food. Lou comes up behind him, just like Louis knew she would, and tousles his hair about, spraying it with all kinds of different sprays and gels. "FIVE MINUTES!" A stage hand calls and Harry curses quietly, stuffing more food into his mouth. The whole plate is clean within the next two minutes and Louis stares at his boyfriend in utter amazement. "Wow babe, that was quick." Harry lies back and places a hand on his stomach with a deep exhausted exhale. "I'm so full..." "That's good, babe! Loads of energy before the show." "Are we going to have to roll you out on stage, Styles?" Zayn asks with a laugh, looking at the stuffed boy. Harry scrunches his nose and furrows his brow. "My stomach kind of hurts.." "You probably ate too much. I'm sure it'll go away once you're on stage." "TWO MINUTES! Please get ready to head out." The stage hand calls again. "Can you help me up?" Harry mumbles, leaving on hand on his aching tummy as the other stretches out toward Louis. Louis laughs. "Of course. That's what you get for napping." Louis jokes, pulling his boyfriend up off the couch. Harry groans and grips at his stomach once he stands and puffs out a large exhale as they walk toward side stage. The other four boys jump up and down, adrenaline pumping through their veins at the sound of their fans' screams. Harry lies up against a wall, rubbing a hand over his stomach. Louis rubs his arm and frowns. "Are you alright babe?" "I just ate too much too quickly...my stomach's hurting..." "Oh love. I'm sorry. Maybe it'll pass once your adrenaline kicks in." "I hope so.." Harry mumbles miserably, as his stomach rumbles uncomfortably beneath his hand. The band hears the last few seconds of the intro video before they are lifted onto the stage. The first song begins to play and Harry takes a deep breath, ignoring the pain gripping at his stomach and begins singing his lines, keeping a steady hand on his stomach. The fans certainly don't notice Harry's discomfort (at least he hopes they don't), but the boys do. Especially Louis. Louis keeps giving him small glances and soft touches whenever he can but it does little to help. The heat from the lights beaming down on him coupled with all the singing and moving around he has to do, makes him feel quite sick to his stomach. He hears the intro to Rock Me just as his stomach rolls and he involuntarily heaves, letting out a sickly burp. He looks around wide-eyed before his stomach tosses again and he quickly rushes backstage. Louis thrives on the energy of the crowd and Rock Me is one of his favorite songs which is probably why he doesn't realize Harry's absence until it's Harry's turn to sing and his voice isn't there. Louis looks around the stage and his eyes bulge. Because Harry's gone. Niall successfully butchers Harry's line and Louis is quick to cover him, singing the correct line behind him. All four boys begin singing but it seems so wrong without the curly headed lad. Louis watches as Zayn, Liam, and Niall all look around in confusion and knows he must look the same as them. He passes Liam and cups a hand over his mouth as he mimics playing the guitar. "Where's Harry?" "Sick." Liam mouths, gesturing toward backstage. Louis peeks behind the stage and catches a flash of white t-shirt hunched over. His first instinct is to go running to him but they're still in the middle of a song so he can't do that obviously. His hand shakes from wanting to go to him but he continues to sing through the song that has never sounded worse to him. Harry heaves again and a small amount of his dinner lands in the garbage can below him. His stomach aches horribly and he places a hand beneath his shirt with a groan. Someone places a water bottle and a towel beside his feet before quietly walking away again. He's glad they had the decency not to stick around. Not only is he mortified that he's throwing up mid-concert but he feels like any extra crowding would make him feel sicker. He takes a sip of water and wipes his face off with the towel. His stomach still feels terrible and he squats down, spitting on the ground below him and taking a deep breath. He wets the towel and places it around his neck, inhaling through his nose and exhaling deeply through his mouth to try and settle his stomach. He hears the voices of his confused bandmates attempting to make it through a song without him and feels so guilty. Thankfully they have a break coming up so once he's done puking his brains out, he'll only have to sing a song or two before he can come back here and probably throw up again. The song ends and he takes a deep breath standing back up. He still feels nauseated and his stomach hurts but he knows he needs to get back out there for his bandmates and their fans. He stumbles back out on stage, earning concerned looks from his bandmates and extra loud screams from his fans. Louis scoots his way over to him nonchalantly as Liam talks to the crowd. "Are you ok? What happened?" "My stomach..." is all Harry mumbles in his ear, shaking his head and placing a hand to his stomach. Louis frowns and rubs his elbow comfortingly. Harry shakes his head and puts the mic up to his mouth as the next song starts to play. He makes it through the whole song but it isn't easy. His stomach tosses and turns and aches beneath the hand that stays steadily lying on it. Finally the ending cords play and the five boys make their way to backstage. Harry's crowded immediately and he groans, sitting on the couch and placing his face into his hands. Louis places a hand to his back while Niall places a water bottle in front of him. "What happened mate?" "Are you ok?" "Do you think you can go back on?" "Can you please not crowd me?" He mumbles, barely audibly. Louis swats his hand and the other three boys back up a bit. "Are you ok?" Louis asks again, hand rubbing a comforting line on his back. "I'm really embarrassed. I just threw up in front of so many people.." "Don't be embarrassed, Haz. You aren't the first singer to do it. And I don't think most of the fans even saw you.." Liam supplies, feeling bad for the ill boy. "My stomach is killing me. I really don't know how I'm going to finish. Every time I get out there I just...ugh..." Harry moans, placing a hand beneath his shirt again. "Oh love...why don't you just rest back here and we'll take care of the show?" Harry groans and shakes his head. "No. I'm not doing that to the fans. They paid to see all of us, not just four of us." Louis sighs but Niall smiles. "You're a legend, mate." "One minute!" The stagehand calls. Harry groans and buries himself into Louis' side. "My poor baby...it's alright. Only a few more songs and we can go lie down, yeah?" Harry takes a deep breath and nods. "Ok..." He makes it through a few more songs before his stomach begins feeling really bad again. He sings his lines in "Teenage Dirtbag" and tries to look as if he's having the time of his life. But once his last line is sung, he gags and turns to go backstage. He gags once more, still on stage, and rushes back behind it. If the fans didn't know he had an upset stomach before..they do now. He nearly knocks Dan over to get backstage but he makes it. Someone shoves a trash bin beneath him and he grips onto it, heaving and gagging until more of his dinner rushes up from his stomach. He groans and closes his eyes as more vomit pours from him. It's unfair really as throwing up should be making him feel better but it isn't. He finishes throwing up and pours water on his face to cool down before once again making his way back onstage. He barely sings the rest of the concert and tries to move as little as possible, sitting down whenever the chance arises. The concert finally ends and he feels like crying both from how ill he feels and how terrible of a performance he just put on. He makes his way backstage far in front of the rest of the boy and rushes to get his things together, slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way to the tour bus. He hears Louis' pounding feet behind him but doesn't turn around. He finally makes it to the tour bus and throws his bag down, curling into his bunk. "Harry?! HARRY?! WHERE ARE YOU?" Louis calls. Harry doesn't answer, trying to focus on keeping his stomach in place. He hears the other three boys step onto the bus and call his name too. The nausea soon becomes too much and he jumps from his bunk to rush to the bathroom. He slams the door but Louis still finds a way in, rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Once he finishes, he sobs and falls into Louis' chest. Louis gasps in surprise and rubs Harry's curls gently. "Oh baby...are you feeling that bad?" Harry nods and sniffles. "A-and I let the fans down. That was such a shit performance. They knew I got sick." "Harry.....hey, Harry! Listen to me." Louis pulls his face up until the two are looking into each other's eyes. "They love you, Harry. And I'm almost positive most of them didn't notice but even if they did, they'll only be worried about you, not judge you." Louis hums. He helps the boy up and Harry brushes his teeth shakily. He then stumbles out to the living area where the other boys are waiting anxiously. He curls in on himself on the couch and moans. Louis walks to the kitchen to get him a Sprite to settle his stomach and the other boys watch him in concern. Zayn comes over to him and rubs his back softly. "You ok mate?" "Just tired...and embarrassed." "Don't be, Haz. Look, the fans know you got sick and they've started a "GetWellSoonHarry" hashtag. You're trending worldwide." Harry smiles softly. The boys all give him reassurances and cuddle him up, all piling onto the couch together. They turn on a movie but Harry can hardly keep his eyes open. His stomach still feels iffy but he knows his boys will take good care of him. And he knows the fans still love him. So despite feeling shit, he's happy.