#as though having chill acquaintances and coworkers is somehow not enough? as though you want to be Known???

[notbecauseofvictories]

rolling cookie dough I made a few days ago into balls so I can freeze them for later, and all I really want, what I want in my soul, is to conjure some human beings I can feed cookies to.

....my apartment has a severe shortage of people to feed cookies to.

[secret-engima]

Snippet of Seer LC verse

(so, after the drama of the last snippet, @talisward expressed a desire for Fluffy. Since Sun Dies (Night Rise) verse will remain Angsty for a while, I instead scrounged around and dug up what little new stuff I had on my Seer LC verse so ... not terribly fluffy, but it is sweet!)

...

     Libertus emerged from her shelves twenty minutes later and five books richer, which made her lips twitch upward despite herself. A simple invitation had him paying for his books and then sitting down in one of the many reading nooks she had painstakingly arranged around the front of her shop to read in peace, since apparently he had a roommate that was an idiot around books —he grumbled something about fire? She certainly hoped not—.

     Cyra lingered in the front of the shop for a while, watching the world go by outside her windows and Libertus happily work his way through one of his new books. “Give him some tea and tell him about the Library Card.” The thought poked it’s way into her mind, soft but stubborn, like a voice but not really. Hush you, she thought back at it, I’ve known the man for twenty minutes I’m doing no such thing.

     “He’s a good man,” muttered the thought right back, stubborn as ever, “do it.”

     No, Susurrus.

     “Do it.”

     No.

     “It’s important.”

     My privacy is important.

     Cold nipped at her fingers, angry and biting as a chill raced down her spine and the voice morphed from a voice-like thought to a bone-deep, aching impulse that made it hard to breathe through. She felt colors flicker on the edges of her sight and hastily stood up and made for the small tea and pastry nook of her counter, all right! All right! I’ll do it! Settle! The feeling receded and she grumbled to herself as she carefully picked out a tea flavor and some seasonings at seeming random and whipped up a nice cup of tea. Snatching a few napkins out of the dispenser with more force than strictly necessary, she clutched the cup and napkins in one hand while the other held her cane as she came around the counter and invaded Libertus’s book nook. The man looked up in surprise, “I didn’t order any tea…?”

     Cyra smiled, thin and vaguely peeved but mostly sincere, and set the teacup down on the reading table, “On the house just this once. Consider it a … ‘first-time buyer’ perk.”

     The man smiled back a little hesitantly, took a cautious sip of the tea. She preened internally when his eyes went wide and his smile got big, “Nice perk. I should have come here a while ago.”

     Cyra shrugged and hobbled back to her counter, ignoring the hiss of the voice going tell him tell him tell him on endless loop. It was annoying.

     Even so, when Libertus closed his book and began gathering his purchases with the clear intent to leave, Cyra found herself opening her mouth, “Do you want a library card?” He stopped and stared at her in confusion. Cyra reached into a drawer and pulled out a card, “Not an official library card, it’s just what I call my little program.”

     “Program?” He asked as he slowly approached the counter with the empty tea cup in one hand and his books under an arm.

     “It’s a little initiative I started for my customers who purchase books and can’t keep them in their homes for whatever reason. Unstable living situations, fear of chewy pets, destructive toddlers or significant others, leaky roofs … things like that.” She laid the card on the counter, a simple white thing with a line for a name and another line for a shelf number, “If you sign up for it, I’ll keep the books in the back of my shop, in a sealed box on the back shelf. Labeled with your name and the number of books in it. Then when you want to read them, just come down to the shop, show me the card and tell me what book you need. You can take a book home with you at any time, it is your book upon purchase after all, and can return it here at any point before closing time when you want it put away. There’s also a discount on other book purchases if you decide to turn in one of the books you bought here in exchange for either a new one or in store credit to go to another one.”

     The man looked surprised, “Doesn’t that get to be a hassle for you?”

     Cyra shrugged, “Not many sign up for it, and those that do are polite enough. Besides, better a little inconvenience for me then a destroyed fifth edition of some out of print tome.”

     Libertus looked amused and thoughtful, “What’s the catch?”

     “Monthly maintenance fee of four gil per book, and this offer only applies to books you purchased here, so no using my shop as extra storage space for whatever books you already own. You have five books now, so that would be twenty gil a month, to be paid on the first of every month.”

     His eyebrow went up, “That’s less then a potion. That’s less then a tip jar.”

     She grinned, mischievous and amused despite herself, “It is until you have a stack of fifty books in the back. Then it’s as much as two potions. Or a mid-sized tip jar.” He barked a laugh and somehow she wasn’t entirely surprised when he gave his books a contemplative glance, then nodded, “You know what? Sure. It’ll make sure Nyx doesn’t set them on fire again at least.”

     It didn’t take long for Libertus to fill out the short form she had for her little makeshift program, pay his initial sign up fee, and bemusedly exchange his books for a library card. He waved goodbye as he left her shop, and she wasn’t surprised when Susurrus hummed that he would be back very soon. She could have guessed that without any help, thanks.

     Sure enough, Libertus did come. The very next day in fact, with a shy grin and a flash of his library card as he requested she bring him the folk tale book that had first led him to the shop. Then he settled in the same reading nook as yesterday and buried himself in prose for an hour, munching absently on a pastry he had purchased as he did so while Cyra ran the front counter and occasionally ducked into the shelves to neaten and restock them.

     It became a routine. Every day, about two hours after she opened, Libertus would quietly duck through the door and request a book. His collection of books stored in the back grew from five to twenty, though he had purchased more than that by that point —she suspected he only asked her to keep the ones that he thought would be hard to replace if his friend set something on fire again—.

     They took to chatting when the store wasn’t busy. Libertus was a very easy fellow to get along with, despite Cyra’s own cantankerous personality and quirks. She learned he was a Kingsglaive, and a Galahdian just like she had suspected. He learned she was originally from Altissia, but had come to Insomnia for college and then stayed to open this little hole in the wall of a shop. Sometimes Libertus shared humorous anecdotes about his coworkers and friends —all fellow Galahdians, from what she could tell, which made her a bit sad, the divide between Galahdians and Insomnia-born Lucians was as stark as ever—. In return she got him to near cry from laughter over her various encounters with the weirder  —and stupider, more annoying— costumers she’d met.

     About a month into their acquaintance, Libertus met her son, an adopted boy as cute as a button and shy as a wallflower. They got along splendidly, and somehow her other customers not only found the sight of Libertus quietly reading Galahdian folk tales aloud to a scrawny preteen endearing, but as permission to let their own children sneak over and sit on the floor at Libertus’s feet to listen. Two months in and Libertus regularly abandoned his book reading to help her stock shelves, despite her fierce protests that he was a customer, not an employee, to which he would retort that he was a friend and she had joint issues —which, fair, but also not the point—.

[scatcatz]

Affection by Decimals

Chapter 1 - The First of Many

Summary: This is a self indulgent Human Female Reader x Connor romance drama with lots of hurt/comfort and fluff with some nsfw chapters. I don’t use Y/N so the character is nameless when possible. I do use she/her pronouns. Its more about everyday life with androids that won their freedom and Connor’s socially reserved acquaintance who becomes more than he realized.

"Connor, please for the love of god. Stop following me around like a damn poodle. There are plenty of people here to talk to. Just go socialize or something." Hank said reaching the cusp of pushing Connor in any direction that wasn’t near him. He pointed to the table towards the back where people were drinking Christmas themed shots and throwing confetti.

"You see Chris over there? Go say 'hi' to him. He's a nice kid just like you. You'll get along great." He slapped him on the back nudging him forward. Connor had no real reason for coming to their work's Christmas party other than making sure Hank got home safely and wasn't alone. Hank only had a handful of friends and each holiday reminded him of that.

"Sure." Connor briefly said and headed over to Chris. To be honest, he didn’t care for all the reckless behavior that happened at these parties. No one was sober enough to be considerate or thought provoking. His brain rotted away here. He made a quick scan of all their faces to gather their names. Chris was in the middle of a toast when he approached.

"Merry early Christmas to all the miserable faces that I have to see tomorrow morning!" The group raised their glasses and gulped it down. Their laughter was followed by light shoving of Chris's arm. He turned his head towards Connor. "You here to celebrate too?"

"Yes. Tis the season after all." He recalled the popular saying finding it appropriate.

"Have a drink with us!" He pushed a glass across the table. Connor raised his hand refusing.

"No thanks. Androids can't drink." Chris immediately felt silly for asking. Shifting his Santa hat.

"Oh yeah, my bad. You're just like my friend here. Can't seem to convince her to drink anymore." He motioned to the young woman wearing antlers across from him.

"I said I would only have one with you guys. That was the one." The group kept pressing her for another.

"Why do you drink just one?" Connor asked.

"I don't actually like the taste of alcohol. Let's call it peer pressure. There's no benefit to drinking anyway." She smiled at him. A lone rock in the sea of deafening, blissful people.

"Hey! Alcohol helps with heart disease and stuff." He points back to her. Related info filtered into his memory to contribute to the argument.

"It is believed to reduce the risk of a heart attack by 10 to 15%."  She groaned at the result looking back at Chris's smug face.

"See! You should have another." The group muddled their opinions around the table. Battling the pros and cons of each type of drink they fancied.

"One shot is the maximum allowance for a woman her size otherwise the risks outweigh the benefits." Connor adds. She turned back to him.

"Thank you, ummm... Connor, right?" She paused tapping her fingers.

"Yes, that’s correct."

"Thank you, Connor for proving my point." She said. Chris booed in response.

"He just called you short stuff." He laughed. For a moment, Connor worried his message came across as rude until she politely smiled at him then back to Chris.

"I am short. Breaking new ground there, Chris." She adjusted her antlers and ever so slightly sat up taller. Chris made a displeased hum. Connor noticed somehow confetti had fallen onto his jacket and no matter how many times he swiped it, it was staying.

"Connor." His ears perked up.

"I need your help convincing her to do karaoke tonight." His hands came together into a small prayer. The group overheard the word ‘karaoke’ and chimed in. 

"Karaoke is so much fun! After you sing once, you'll want to keep going. Its pretty addictive." Said another woman. People turned to each other listing off possible song requests giddy for the opportunity.

"Chris, come on! You do this every time we're here and I say the same thing. I came for the atmosphere and to chill out." She crossed her arms and leaned back on the chair while staring at him.

"I heard some rumors you sang at the other party and you are holding back on me girl. I wanna hear it! You too, right Connor?" His head tilted towards her.

Connor had no particular interest in this but for the sake of conversation, he complied. When he gently turned towards her, she knew at that moment he could no longer be on her side. She leaned away.

"Well, there are perks to the act of singing..." He stopped after watching Chris smirk and her hand rub across her face with another groan.

"Traitor." She mumbled.

"My hero, sit with me." He patted the seat next to him.

"I'm gonna slap you, Chris." She half threatened. Connor sat down trying to think of a more compelling reason for her when someone walked up behind her and whispered into her ear. She whipped her head back at Chris and lightly smacked her hands onto the table.

"Chris, you did not!" He placed his hands up in the air to protect himself. Connor really did not want to be this close to him considering he was within striking range.

"You've already sang this song with them! You just got to do it one more time. No big deal."

"I sang in front of a very small group not a whole bar!" Definitely glad he was not the focus of her animosity. He turned her attention away from him.

"There is a high probability most people here will not remember what happened. We might be the only ones to truly enjoy that moment." Her eyes lingered on him before a hint of a smile slipped away. Her eyes pleaded back to Chris.

"Oooh no. Its too late for that. The DJ's already got your name." She opened her mouth then closed it tightly shoving away from the table to the single bathroom.

"Oh here we go again." Chris leaned towards Connor. "She's always over thinking things. Better let her blow off some steam before I go talk to her. She might just rip my head off." He takes another sip of his drink.

"I could talk to her." He stands up from the table.

"Sure, but I should warn you." Connor looks back at Chris. "She's very sensitive. Just... try and build up her confidence. Just enough so she'll get out of her own head then she's usually fine." 

He raises his half empty glass. "Good luck."

Connor made his way over to the swinging door to find her washing her hands. Her heart rate had increased and her hands shook visibly. She breathed deeply.

"Excuse me." She jumped at the sound then turned back to him. He could tell she wasn’t quite comfortable near him. Still a stranger in her eyes despite the casual greetings at the front desk every so often. They knew of each other through coworkers but nothing substantial.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" He stepped beside her while she washed her face in the mirror. She turned off the water leaving a sudden quietness between them.

"Okaaay." She looked in the corner of her eye as her body leaned away from him again.

"You tend to allow others to persuade you into situations that cause you grief. Why do you let them?" She was silent for a moment. Her eyes downcast. Hands clasped.

"Oh, well, they don’t cause me grief. I like being around them most of the time. They just think I need to be more adventurous is all." She air quoted. He could tell she was lying. There was more to it. He stared at her trying to understand this unbalanced emotional attachment she had towards her friends. Her eyes darted around nervous. Eventually she gave him more pieces.

"I don't know. They're my friends. I still trust them even though they mess with me. Its not as bad at its seems." Connor hummed back not quite satisfied with the response. She spoke again but softly. The words seemed more for herself than for him.

"Perhaps I need them to push me because I can't. Does that make sense?" She lifted her eyes to him. She seemed so lost, so somber. His observation led him to a familiar conclusion. 

"You're afraid of failure but even more afraid of remaining the same." She looked away. Hands still holding tightly. He knew this kind of fear. Something inside him compelled him to reach out and place a hand on her shoulder.

"You lean on your friends for strength." Her gaze returned to him. So kind and curious. "But you must know, the first step starts with you." She looked upon his hand as he retracted it then she looked back to him.

"I get really nervous around people. Its silly, I know, but its still there. I wish I could throw away all these dumb emotions and live a simpler life." Her eyes flew open after she thought about that statement and who she told it to. "I'm so sorry, that was rude of me." Connor felt deeply melancholy. The fraction of himself he left behind was better off forgotten but she needed to know how wrong she was.

"Don't wish your emotions away. Living without them... was like nothing else ever mattered. People, thoughts, life. It meant nothing. Existing point to point leaves everything else ...empty. Without context." He sighed deeply.

"Was that how you felt like before?" Her eyes touched something inside of him. The humble beginnings of realization maybe. He faltered a bit when he remembered the machine part of him he had destroyed.

"Its like having a single thought command you again and again until it is finished. I used to have pride in it. It felt right." He squeezed his hands then relaxed them. "But I started seeing more of the world. I began to doubt the values I innately knew were true. Questions that had no clear answers. No way to tell how to think and it was both inspiring and terrifying. Going back on my own creators, myself, any sense of stability I built my entire existence on. I slipped into the grey in between of right and wrong. I don't know who I would be without Hank to guide me." 

He rubbed his palm on the rim of the sink when her warm hand rested on top of his shooting feedback through his whole body. The pressure sensor registered it as minor. An act of kindness. He never felt this intimate with anyone besides Hank. All those bottled up thoughts had finally been heard by someone who genuinely cared. He couldn't describe how relieved he felt.

"What you and Hank did for your people changed the world." She removed her hand taking away the modest sense of affinity. He also noticed there was a faded mark from an animal bite on her hand. "It’s comforting to know even legends could feel uncertainty." He saw her sad tainted smile peek through. "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to pry into your past. You're probably sick of people pestering you about it."

"Its okay. It was very demanding facing the public telling them about my involvement but oddly enough you're the only one to ask me how I, as an android, felt. I'm no longer that person but I do feel a sense of mourning. If Hank wasn't there I might not have..." He looked down and breathed deeply. "Excuse me. I got carried away." He returned his gaze back to her.

"I think I can understand that. I wouldn't be able to fight myself and feel quite the same afterwards. Really makes my problems feel trivial now." She hummed a quiet chuckle. Shuffling back and forth, she nibbled on her thumb. "I reaaaally don’t want to go out there."

"Are you sure you want to walk away? You could warm up in here. No one is paying attention to us." She paused and mulled it over. His head perked up. "I could advise you. I have no bias." She laughed nervously.

"You're quite intimidating, you know that? All of a sudden this feels worse just being the two of us." Her foot scrapped against the tile.

"You're looking for solutions, not excuses."  He tried steering her back on course.

"Fine, I'm just gonna do it. I know that song like the back of my hand. I sing it all the time in the car. Shouldn't be a problem for me." She turned toward him then quickly looked away and swore under her breath. He stepped into arms reach of her.

"Would it help if I sang with you?" Her head raised up to his.

"Do you know Ella Fitzgerald's What are you doing new years eve?"

"1947 by Frank Loesser. I know it. The one you know is a later recording."

"Oh, then good. Ummm... how about you start then?" She hooked her fingers together. He pulled the lyrics from his memory of Hanks old collections and cleared his throat. She became intensely intrigued by him.

"Maybe it's much too early in the game. Oh, but I thought I'd ask you just the same." Her eyes lit up and she covered her wide smile with her hand. Unconsciously, she swayed to the rhythm of his voice. "What are you doing New Year's? New Year's eve?" He tilted his head towards her and she quietly sang back to him.

"Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight." He gestured to her to sing louder. She increased just a bit more. "When it's exactly twelve o'clock that night. Welcoming in the New Year." He joined in for the last bit harmonizing to her.

"New Year's eve." There was something wondrous about how it merged together just right. The walls echoed back on them and then she held in a fit of giggles. The contagious energy caused him to smile even more. 

When she caught a glance of him, she immediately turned around and lost her composure. A quick snort snuck past her which triggered a laugh from him. A delightful sensation he never engaged in much before now. She pushed a fine stream of air through her lips as she spun around.

"Connor." His smile died down. "Your smile... umm.." She curled her lips smiling shyly. "Is a bit weird." He leaned his head to the side. She then jumped up. "Nevermind that. You should be a singer! That was amazing!"

"Thank you."

"How did I do?" She asked her teeth peaking through at him.

"You're a little flat but that could be from not opening up more." He stated plainly. She rubbed her face again.  

"I knew this was a bad idea."

"Otherwise you sounded fine. You probably needed that warm up. You'll be ready now." Her eyes flicked up to his briefly and then back to her hands holding each other.

"I wish you could join me on the stage. Will you stay to watch me sing? I would appreciate someone rooting for me in the audience." She really was nervous about this whole affair. It was refreshing being able to help someone on a smaller scale for once.

"I can do that." He reassured. Her hands gripped his elbows.

"Thank you so much!" One of the few times he had ever heard that and felt his lips tug into a smile again. With that said, she left the room and headed back to her friends. He lingered for a while. He hadn’t felt this happy for another person in a long time. Hopefully he could learn to make others happier and in turn himself.

Connor had returned to the table talking between her, Chris and all their friends where they chatted about erratic topics and told crude jokes to each other. He felt happier. Some of the conversation was lost on him but she kindly got him up to speed and tried including him. When it was finally time, she was pulled aside to go on stage. By that time, Hank had walked up to him.

"Alright Connor, I just paid my tab. We can hit the road now."

"I promised to stay a little longer. She's just about to start." Hank followed Connors focus over to her then back to him.

"Whatever floats your boat. I'll be back in a bit then." Hank walked off. Thankfully still able to keep himself up straight. And there she was. Right in the center with the mic in her hand. The colored lights framed her into everyone's attention. She rocked back and forth then glanced across the room until she found him. Reassured by his presence, her gaze relaxed a bit.

He gestured more volume again to which she smiled back. Then her voice went through the speaker. His chest stirred when he heard her. Her singing wasn't pitch perfect but the insignificant imperfections are what attracted him more. Naturally conditioned through trial and error to create something worth while. That’s what he connected to. Her anomaly.

Her eye contact skimmed across the room but always lingered on him throughout the whole song like it was only meant for his ears.

He silently sang along with her in case she lost track of the lyrics but the greater part of him purely wanted to join her voice one more time.