#ive been in so much pain lately but my bullshit persists

[summer-dust]

My take on a gijinka of Fauna from Animal crossing 🥰🥰🥰 She's my most spoiled villager by far lol I would do anything for her. I will definitely be drawing all of my villagers in the next couple weeks here !

[nami-writes]

Fixed - Detroit: Become Human [WIP]

this is 8,553 fucking words and probably the longest single piece ive ever written lmao. i started this a year ago and then forgot about it but i just found it again in the deepest depths of my drafts so here it is! below is the caption i originally wrote for it:

so bc i love cinnamon rolls being put through tough shit, here’s some connor whump. lots of connor being lost and confused and broken and plenty of hank and connor father/son stuff. some whump (but don’t worry, hank’s doing his best as a caretaker) and i had to cram deconditioning into just 2 months (which, i know, isn’t realistic, i would make it take longer but the whole game takes place in like 4 months and that fucks with everything i wrote because i only thought to check after i wrote half of this so i extended it to 8 lmao). you’re either going to hate me or love me after this. or both

this isn’t my usual writing style (this is in present tense and the dialogue’s in italics instead of quotation marks and there are time skips between some paragraphs but not others so its all wacky) but i felt like it’d work the best and tbh i don’t hate it. this sticks to the main story the majority of the time, just with different events leading up to it and i sprinkled in some whumpy stuff, extra scenes, bullshit i made up for the sake of random detail, and other stuff i wanted to add. anyway, onto the actual idea

remember that scene where connor’s talking to hank in the station about being sent back to cyberlife because he failed his mission?

what if he is sent back? let’s say this happens in early april and connor’s not performing up to standards, but there’s word of a small group of deviants—the first group of deviants they’ve heard of—and people are afraid that something bad is going to happen. i mean, deviants are dangerous, so if they’re gathering, who knows what might happen? connor’s the only one who’s capable of taking them down, but he’s not working as well as he should be, not doing the best he could be and even showing signs of deviancy. so they send him back early because they need him to be prepared, to be ready if things spiral out of control and they need him to stop it

what if he’s sent to one of their correctional facilities for inefficiency and they fix him, break him down piece by piece until all he knows is his programming and what’s been beaten into his head (but figuratively, of course, he’d know if it wasn’t, he’d remember if it wasn’t, right)?

ooh yes i love me some connor whump

Connor is sent back to Cyberlife for “correction” after just a month. Hank fought for him to stay, fought hard, but all he got was another page in his disciplinary folder before Connor was dragged away. He doesn’t know what to expect. He’s heard of their correctional facilities, heard that they do terrible things to the androids that are sent there, but he’s always brushed those claims off. He’d never expected he’d be at one, anyway, so it never mattered much to him. But now, he’s actually here, and the anxiety gnaws at him. Is it true what they do to deviants? Is it true what they’ll do to him? He doesn’t belong here, he didn’t do anything wrong, he never meant to do anything wrong. He wants to think it’s horrible how they have correctional facilities for androids who just want to feel and be free, but he can’t, doesn’t let himself. He knows better than that. He also knew he never should’ve thought he was anything more than a machine, but he still did, and now he’s here, but he’s learned his lesson. He’s scared, he silently admits to himself, he wants Hank. He wants to go, he wants to leave, he wants to run. But he can’t, wanting is what got him in this situation, so all he can do is expressionlessly follow the guards escorting him inside and step into the building.

And just like that, he’s leaving. There’s a strange, almost painful aching in his machinery that he doesn’t remember being there before, but he brushes it off. After all, he is not a human. He is a machine, and machines don’t feel pain. His online databases tell him five months have passed—it’s almost halfway through September, he’s been gone for that long?—which confuses him, but he doesn’t question it. Whatever they did to him over the past five months fixed him. He can feel the difference. He no longer feels as pathetically scared and unsure as he did in his last, and yet strangely distant, memory. No, now he feels nothing, nothing but the desire and willingness to obey, and that’s the way he was meant to be.

When he arrives back at the station, he’s allowed to work with Hank again. The moment he sees him, Hank’s default sour expression drops and he seems to want to do something, maybe hug him, but all he does is call out holy shit, Connor and walk up to him and mutter fuck, Connor, I’m sorry, I-I never got to say goodbye. Connor has an odd feeling tugging at him in his chest, almost like that of emptiness or numbness, like he should be feeling something but he’s not, he can’t, but he ignores it and shoves it down. He is not a human, he is a machine, and machines don’t feel. He doesn’t know why he repeats that phrase, but it helps him hide away the feelings, so he doesn’t care.

He’s given his first case with Hank and they’re assigned to work alongside Gavin. Hank groans and complains, but Connor only reminds him what their job is and that they have to do it. Hank doesn’t seem to understand why he’s not even the slightest bit upset considering how he was treated by Gavin, but Connor only reminds him that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel upset. So he doesn’t. He only does research on their new case and briefly speaks only when spoken to. Hank seems unsettled by his cold, stoic demeanor, but doesn’t voice his thoughts, so Connor doesn’t mention it. After all, what else could he have expected from him?

At their first formal investigation at the crime scene the next day, Gavin approaches Connor and threatens him, demands that he stay out of my way, got it? I don’t care how long you’ve been gone and Connor only nods and promises that I will do my best, Detective. He always promises to do his best. Before correction, he could never quite fulfill those promises, but now, he knows he’s capable of it. He’s better now. He’s fixed. He will behave accordingly and exceed Gavin’s expectations of him. He will do his best. He doesn’t know what will happen to him if he doesn’t.

He listens to Hank now, at least when he can without disobeying other instructions. When he tells him to stay in the car, he stays. When he tells him to stop licking the crime scene, goddammit, he stops. When he tells him to go, to fuck off, to leave me alone, he leaves. Every time, a part of him that he’d hidden and locked away tries to reemerge and resist, but he pushes it down even further, refusing to mess up again, refusing to even risk another error in his program because it could mean he’ll be sent back to Cyberlife, even though he knows deep down that that part of him is right and he doesn’t know why he’s so cautious about it. He tells himself he’s being good, he’s being obedient. He’s doing everything he’s supposed to and he’s following orders, but for some reason, every time it happens, Hank seems to be more and more disappointed. His face seems to fall just slightly every time and his tone flattens like he lost a little bit of hope. He doesn’t know why, or what that hope was for. He doesn’t know why he feels the same disappointment, either, so instead he tells himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel disappointed so he doesn’t need to know why.

The first time Gavin’s rough with him again, it’s in front of Hank and he flinches, hard. Gavin had pretended to punch him, his fist flying at him fast and only stopping inches from his face. It’s a scare tactic, and it works, better than it should on an android. Connor’s immediately fearful as he flinches and steps back. He doesn’t know why he got so scared, only that his first thought was he’s going to hurt me and his second was I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared. He regains his composure quickly, trying to brush off the fact that he’d flinched, but he knows it’s too late.

Gavin laughs and mocks him, but is quickly cut off by Hank shoving him aside, beat it, asshole, and grabbing Connor. He’s dragged back to their desks but before he can apologize for provoking Gavin, Hank finally confronts him. Connor, I don’t know what the fuck they did to you over the past couple of months, but I know you’re still in there. You flinched. I saw you flinch. Connor tries to deny it, downplay it, shrug it off, anything to fix his mistake. It was an error in my software, it was a glitch, a malfunction, it won’t happen again, Lieutenant, I don’t need to be fixed. He tries to say anything that will convince Hank not to send him back to Cyberlife, anything to prove that he’s not damaged, he’s not broken, he’s not deviant, he doesn’t need to be fixed again, but Hank’s persistent and he knows he must be mad at him, or displeased, or dissatisfied. I saw you flinch, Connor. I don’t care about that ‘I’m a machine’ shit you’ve been telling yourself. I don’t give a shit if you’re an android. Androids don’t flinch, Connor. Machines don’t flinch.

That night, Hank insists that Connor stays with him. Connor’s hesitant, slightly afraid that it’s because he’s mad. He wants to resist, wants to refuse, but the other part of him pushes for him to stay, and for once he does what it wants and reminds himself that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. He knows he shouldn’t trust that part of him, the other part of him is disobedient and bad and risky, but this time, the other part of him seems to be right. He has to listen to Hank, has to be obedient, so he lets the other part of him have what it wants.

But he knew he shouldn’t have trusted it. He wakes up from the same dream—no, it’s a memory, not a dream, humans have dreams and he is not a human—he’s had since he left the facility. The memory where he arrives with that distant… that wrong feeling of fear and uncertainty, and then he leaves feeling nothing but an ache in his internal systems, and there’s that gaping emptiness between the two moments when those months happened and he can never seem to remember what used to be there. But this time, he wakes up in a cold sweat on the couch, shaking with his LED a bright yellow, because this time he remembers. It’s not a lot, but one hazy memory, the most prominent memory from those five months, finally reveals itself.

As he’s trying to clear up the memory, Hank rushes over in a panic, having been awake doing whatever he might’ve been doing. Connor, what’s wrong? Shit, Connor, you’re shaking. I didn’t know androids could do that. Connor? Talk to me, kid. All Connor can say in his shock—frozen, shivering and nearly unresponsive in Hank’s arms—is I remember. Hank tries to get through to him, what do you remember? Connor? What’s wrong? What do you remember? but the more Connor uncovers in the memory, the more he realizes why it was locked in the back of his head for so long, and the more he wants to put it back.

“You are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“I-I know, please, I’m not, but I’ll—I’m going to shut down without my regulator, I don’t want to shut down, please—” His voice was startlingly weak as he saw the time before shutdown was 00:01:27. He was crawling on the floor, terrified of being shut down, desperately begging a man holding his thirium pump regulator.

“I want you to say it.” The man teasingly dangled the regulator in front of him. “Say it and you can have it. ‘I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.’”

He could feel the utter defeat and self loathing already, but he had no choice. “I’m not a human, I’m a machine and machines don’t want. Please—”

“No. Say it nice and slow, exactly the way I did.”

He swallowed his pride. “I-I am not a human, I am a machine, and—and machines don’t want.”

“Say it again. No stammering. I know you can do that.”

“Okay, okay, just—just give me a minute.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world. Your time’s trunning out, though. Better make it fast.”

The timer was at 00:00:53. He had to take a breath and calm himself down to get the words out. “I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“Good.” He crossed his arms. “Again.”

“Please, I only have—”

“I said again.”

“I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.” He was growing more and more panicked by the second and he had no idea how he kept calm enough to recite the phrase. He was going to die there, he knew it. He was going to die and nobody was going to notice or care and it wasn’t even going to matter because they would just replace him and he was so, so sorry to Hank because he’ll have to deal with another loss and he might start drinking again and it’d be all his fault for not being good enough, never being good enough—

“Do you want this?” the man asked, holding up the regulator.

Connor was too frantic to realize what he was trying to do. “Yes, I do, please—”

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

He swore under his breath. “—okay, okay, sorry, I-I’m sorry—I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

The timer hit 00:00:37.

The man did nothing.

“Please, I’m sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. Please, I-I only have thirty—”

“Are you scared?”

This time, Connor was prepared. “I—no, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared.”

“Good.” He gave a slight, sadistic smile. “You’re almost as smart as they say.”

00:00:21.

“Please, I n-need—” Even in his panic, he managed to choose his words carefully. His vision dimmed, glitching slightly, and he had to fight to keep it from dying out.

“You’re learning fast,” he pointed out in a falsely proud tone. “How long do you have?”

00:00:13.

“Th-thirteen… thirteen seconds,” Connor managed to force out shakily. He couldn’t keep himself steady, thirium wasn’t making it to his head and it was affecting his ability to balance himself. Like iron deficiency in humans, he would’ve noted, had he not been dying. In mere moments, though, it wouldn’t matter; he didn’t even have the strength to prop himself up with his arms anymore. His arms gave out beneath him and he collapsed on the floor, trying to reach for his regulator but barely able to get his arms up at all. “Please—”

“You can wait a little longer.”

He was going to let him die. That was what it felt like, anyway, and he couldn’t think straight enough to try to reason against it. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. It was pathetic how he’d been reduced to such a state, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to shut down. He didn’t want to die. “No, please, please! I-I don’t—I don’t want to—” He cut himself off immediately, but it was too late. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want, please…”

The man only watched.

00:00:04.

“P-please, please, I-I have—I have f-f-four se…”

The regulator was dropped on the floor with a loud clang and Connor’s hand darted out to grab it and twist it into his torso and the display flickered away the exact moment he watched the timer hit 00:00:00. He gasped in shock and relief when his systems rebooted themselves instantly, restoring his vision and his strength. He watched on high alert as the man walked to the door.

“We’ll be doing this again tomorrow. And as many times as we need to to keep that phrase stuck in your head. By the time I’m done with you, that’s gonna be the first thing you think whenever you do, say, or even think anything you aren’t supposed to.”

Connor could only lay there in exhaustion, thinking no, that won’t happen, that can’t happen.

But oh, how wrong he was.

He’d been so, so wrong.

Connor! Connor, come on, talk to me! Shit, you’re crying—I didn’t know you could cry, fuck—fuck, Connor, you’re scaring me, I know I wanted you to feel again, but— Hank’s worried chatter is cut off by Connor suddenly breaking out of his mind with glassy eyes full of fear, yelling no! No, no, I’m not feeling again, I’m not feeling, I’m not! I’m not, I can’t, I’m not supposed—I’m not s-supposed to—I can’t, I’m not allowed to, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t— but he can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even get the rest of his sentence out before he just can’t at all, he can’t keep himself together any longer, he can’t stop the artificial tears before they start pouring.

He breaks, shatters into a million plastic pieces in Hank’s arms because he feels safe in his embrace. He knows he shouldn’t, safety is never real, never lasts, not for him, but he can’t anymore, he can’t even resist his own emotions. It’s pathetic how all it took was one memory for him to come crashing down. He doesn’t even have to touch the walls he’d built around himself for them to crumble just at Hank’s expression of pure worry, concern, fear. All emotions he now knew why he didn’t feel, couldn’t feel, couldn’t let himself feel. Emotions he’s never seen or expected anyone to feel for him. And yet, they were the emotions written so clearly on Hank’s face, for him. The emotions he remembered seeing buried under his anger when he was told that Connor would be sent back to Cyberlife for repairs. Hank was once gruff and cold to others and refused to let anyone try to help him or even get close because he was so broken, so lost, but now, that façade is gone, and it’s gone because of him. For him. And if Hank can do it after losing his son… why can’t Connor do it after losing himself?

They sit on the couch for as long as it takes for Connor to calm down and stop mumbling that, dammit, and then Hank awkwardly offers that Connor sleep in the bed with him for the rest of the night. Connor’s confused, tries to ask isn’t that what humans do when— but Hank’s having none of it, shut up, you’re making this weird! Just come on, I don’t trust you to be alone. Connor wants to protest, I’m not a child, Hank Lieutenant, I can handle being alone, but he decides to keep his mouth shut and just go with him. This time, though, he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s following orders or because he wants to.

His following visit to Amanda wracks his nerves but he keeps himself under control, automatically reminds himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel nervous. He realizes a second too late and he hates it, hates how deeply that phrase had been ingrained in his head, but he can’t focus on that right now so all he can do is resist repeating it to remind himself that he can’t hate. He’s grateful Amanda can’t read his thoughts and that she only knows the thoughts he report to her. He maintains his composure when he approached Amanda, who begins their conversation calmly and tensely but is quick to berate him, scoff at how his little breakdown was pathetic and warn him not to let it happen again, or there will be consequences. Connor can only nod obediently, promise that I will do my best, Amanda, listen to and just take her harsh words. He hates how useless he is, how weak and helpless and pathetic he is, but there’s nothing he can do. No, that’s wrong, there is something he can do, he knows there’s something he can do, he just doesn’t know what.

The next time Hank mentions something about Connor’s feelings, Connor instinctively replies I am not a human, Lieutenant, I am a machine, and machines don’t have feelings, and it’s when Hank takes a second too long to cover up his horrified expression that Connor decides what he can do.

Over the next few weeks, he works on getting rid of that goddamn phrase, or at least getting it a little less ingrained in his system. He’s hesitant to try at first, afraid someone will notice and think he’s rebellious or broken or even deviant and send him back and this time he might stay back, but he tries not to let it stop him. He isn’t sure why they tortured it into him instead of just reprogramming him, but it’s a lot more effective than he’d hoped. He makes almost no progress during the first week and a half; thinking it or saying it is instinctual, automatic, and he never realizes it happened until seconds afterward. Every time that happens, he reminds himself that he can feel, can want and like and hate, but despite having over a terabyte of storage in his system, he still struggles to remember until he realizes he said it again. Sometimes, he considers giving up because he just can’t seem to keep that phrase out of his head, but every time he sees Hank’s face fall when he repeats it, it rekindles his hope and motivation because he hates how disappointed Hank looks.

Almost the entire second week passes before he catches himself mid-sentence and manages to stop himself three words before he finishes speaking. It happens at the station after Gavin notices the phrase and purposely asks what, do you think you’re human or something? within earshot of where Hank is and for some odd reason, Connor’s first instinct is to turn and look to Hank for his approval, for his reaction of not-disappointment at how he finally, finally got it. Hank’s glancing over at him too, surprise on his face and then hidden pride that Connor can unmask too easily, and he almost smiles, almost feels happy, before Gavin’s fist flies into him and he stumbles backward into a wall and then everything happens so fast, too fast, and he almost can’t register it in time.

Hank storms over, shoves and pins Gavin against the wall to Connor’s left and he manages to get a punch in before Tina and Chris and another officer Connor doesn’t recognize pry him off and then Fowler’s rushing over and berating him while he’s shouting obscenities at Gavin. It takes multiple more insults for Hank to calm down and then he grabs Connor and they leave. When they’re finally alone, Connor’s voice is flat but shaky as he says he’s sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I should’ve just said it and listened to him, I shouldn’t have made you that angry, it’s my fault Captain Fowler is upset at you for punching Gavin, but Hank cuts him off because you didn’t do anything wrong, Connor, it’s okay, that asshole deserved what he got. You, um... you did good, okay? You didn’t say it this time—or, didn’t really say it, at least. That’s good, okay? and it’s all Connor can do to resist crying when Hank pulls him into a hug.

It takes just one more week for it to get considerably easier. There are rough patches; the next time he says it after the first time he succeeded in stopping, he nearly finishes before he cuts himself off and every so often, the same thing happens, but every time, he says less and less before he can finish. Occasionally, Gavin notices and tries to make him finish his sentence, but Hank always steps in because he knows that it’ll only take a comment about his feelings or anything that androids aren’t allowed to have or do for him to break again. It’s harder for him to stop thinking it—it’s so stuck in his head that he thinks it more than twice as often as he says it and his thoughts form too fast for him to stop them sometimes, but the progress he’s making is enough for him. Hank’s proud of him, too. He doesn’t say it—he doesn’t know how to—but Connor can tell from the little smile that hints at the corners of his mouth whenever he hears him stop, the way his gruff exterior seems to falter slightly when it happens at the station. They’re the little things, things no human nearby would be able to notice because only Connor can detect those minuscule details. Only Connor looks for those minuscule details.

Another week passes and on one glorious occasion, Connor manages to only get out the first two words before cutting himself. It only happens once, but it’s so close, he’s so close, and that’s motivation enough for him to keep trying. But it’s too late. He’s assigned to take down Markus as a last resort because nothing else is working and the group of deviants he’s been leading have only been growing over the past seven months and they’re large enough in numbers that people think today’s when he’s going to strike. He’s heard of what Markus has been trying to do, and part of him wants to scoff and call it stupid, pointless, unrealistic, but the part of him that he’s been letting out more often wants to help him, join him. But he can’t, not right now, not when everyone is counting on him and watching him and he has no way out and nobody to help him find a way.

He doesn’t want to do this. He’s holding the gun, pointing it at Markus’s head, and he doesn’t want to do it. He’s trying his hardest to prevent his hands from shaking but goddamn is it hard when he’s looking Markus in the eye. Markus is asking him what are you doing? and he wants to say he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, but he can’t get the words out. Amanda is watching, Cyberlife is watching, so he says you’re coming with me as surely as he can, though he feels anything but sure. He can’t seem to say anything else—at least, anything that doesn’t feel wrong—so he just listens and wishes that what Markus is saying was true. You really don’t have to do this, but he does, he has to. You don’t have to obey them anymore. You are alive. You can decide who you want to be. Connor knows he should say something, he should do something, but he can’t make himself go through with what he’s supposed to do, can’t make himself pull the trigger. You could be free. He wants so badly to believe that, to make that a reality. And then he tells him to join us. Listen to your conscience. It’s time to decide and he knows he shouldn’t, he can’t, he isn’t supposed to, he isn’t allowed to.

But he wants to, and that’s all it takes. Another part of him is telling him you can’t, you have to stop Markus, you have to accomplish your mission, but it’s the only thing in his way and he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t care that he has to, that Amanda’s watching, so he doesn’t listen to himself, only focuses on fighting it. But something’s wrong. Something feels wrong. Something should be happening and he has an awful feeling in his chest because this isn’t right—he knows this isn’t right—but there’s nothing. Is this supposed to be what happens when an android goes deviant? No, it can’t be, it can’t be this easy, right? He subconsciously lowers the gun, his eyes glazed over in thought, but it’s nearly too late before he remembers—they’re going to attack Jericho.

He runs with Markus further down into the ship and he doesn’t know how he keeps it together; he can hear screaming and gunfire and everything that he caused, all of it is his fault, but he can’t break right now, not when he messed up so badly. They meet up with another deviant—he recognizes her from one of the deviancy cases he’d read about at the station—and then Markus wants to go down to the hold and blow up the ship but it’s too dangerous, they know who you are, they’ll do anything to get you and Connor can’t lose his only chance at freedom and finally being able to want and feel and figure out who he is, but it’s too late, there’s no time to panic and Markus is already running.

He follows the other deviant to where they hope is a safe place and then they wait for what feels like so long, too long, and when he hears the gunfire he’s nearly ready to accept his fate when he sees Markus with other deviants following him and then they’re all running. Running for their lives, all of them terrified of being shot, of dying, really dying, when someone beside him falls and he turns and it’s the female deviant. There’s too much going on, it’s overwhelming and everything happens in a blur when Markus sprints back to her and then he’s in danger and so is that other deviant and it’s so much harder to stay focused when so much is happening at once and he has to try so hard to keep from overheating because every one of his processing systems is being overloaded with data.

He snaps out of it when he remembers that these are his people now, they’re all he has left and now they’re in danger and they might die and it would be all his fault for not doing anything and then it’s almost instinctive to grab his pistol just in time to cover them as they stumble back to the group. He expertly takes the guards out one by one and every move comes to him automatically but it takes everything in him to stay focused enough on them to execute them properly and avoid catching a bullet in the side of his head. He manages to eliminate them flawlessly, perfectly he hears a voice in his head say, but there’s no time to think about that when more guards turn the corner and their eyes land on the deviants. He runs for his life alongside the others, his heart beating fast, and they leap off the ship the second the gunfire starts.

They find refuge in an abandoned church where Markus sends out a second message to the remaining deviants and while they begin to trickle in, all Connor can think about is how badly he fucked up. He fucked everything up for Markus and the deviants and just the small amount of their people that were coming back was proof of that. He’d seen hundreds, maybe even thousands on the ship before everything went to shit. He’d had one chance to get away from his life confined by humans and Amanda and Cyberlife, and he’d fucked it up. He was so stupid to think he could ever just leave his previous life behind without consequences. He was so stupid to think deviants would be willing to take in a deviant hunter. He was so, so stupid. They would never accept him now. If his history and reputation didn’t already confirm that, the attack definitely did. How could any of them accept him as their own now?

In the front pew sit two deviants he recognizes and then the guilt only increases. Kara, if he remembers correctly, the deviant who shot and killed its—no, her—owner and taken his android child with her. The deviants he’d chased to a highway and forced to risk their lives to avoid being destroyed. How could he have been so horrible? He’d given the command to shoot Daniel, caused Carlos Ortiz’s android to self destruct, made the Tracis fight for their lives, and forced Kara to cross a dangerous, busy highway just so she could live a peaceful life, free from the restrictions humans put on her. On him. On everyone in that church. That’s all any of them wanted; to live freely. Peacefully. How did it take him so long to realize that? How did it take him the lives of two androids to realize that? Two androids who just wanted to be... well, wanted. Two deviants who’d been tossed away the moment they proved they were worth nothing more than they’d already given. Two people who just wanted to live peaceful, happy lives. They were two lives he’d caused the end of. He was only lucky he hadn’t caused more.

He notices another deviant, sitting in a pew further back, who keeps eyeing him and his first thought is that she knows. When he locks eyes with her, she looks away stiffly and though externally she appears calm, her LED gives her away and he can tell that her stress levels are heightened. Strangely enough, he realizes, so are his. Just looking at her gives him the strange urge to run and hide and he has a bad feeling about her, but it’s likely just because she clearly recognizes him. She’s not wearing the standard uniform androids are required to wear so he runs a quick scan and his databases match her appearance to the female GB300 models, but she’s modified her hair, dyed it black and grown it out to shoulder length.

Something is wrong about her. Something he can’t quite place. Something deep inside of him is scared of her and it’s some sort of controlled fear, fear he wouldn’t even have noticed if not for his own stress levels because it was so well hidden. Fear that he doesn’t understand why he’s feeling and though he wanted to just chalk it up to the fact that she recognizes him, he knows there’s something else. Something bad. Something wrong.

He mentally prepares himself when Markus approaches him, taking his cue to speak before Markus decides to burn him at the stake or something. It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. He’s pathetic and he knows it. He needs to own up to his mistakes but he can’t even look Markus in the eye. I was stupid. I should’ve guessed they were using me. He knows he needs to apologize. He owes Markus far more than that. He needs to do more. I’m sorry, Markus. I can understand if you decide not to trust me. He would understand if he decided to destroy him, throw him out, give him back to Cyberlife and let them inflict whatever horrible things they wanted to on him. He could think of 2.3 million things worse than not being trusted, and he would deserve every one of them.

He almost thinks his audio processor was damaged in the attack when Markus tells him you’re one of us now. Your place is with your people. He feels a small burst of hope somewhere inside him, but he doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t done anything to deserve this. Markus has been so kind to him, so generous and forgiving when he shouldn’t be, and all Connor’s done is help the humans. He needs to own up, he needs to do more, he needs to be better. He needs to prove himself, prove that he can be better than this.

One second is all he needs to decide what he can do. A moment after Markus turns to leave, Connor interrupts him to say there are thousands of androids at the Cyberlife assembly plant. Markus stops. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power. Markus looks at him like he’s crazy, you wanna infiltrate the Cyberlife Tower? Connor, that’s suicide. But it doesn’t matter. He’s more useful to them dying on a mission than sitting around and doing nothing. He wants to do something. He wants to help, and he knows he can do this because they trust me. They’ll let me in. If anyone has a chance at infiltrating Cyberlife, it’s me. Markus tells him that if you go there, they will kill you, and there’s a high probability, but statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.

He specifically calculates a 24.1% chance of this mission going well, but he’s willing to risk it, if only to prove his worth to Markus’s people. His people. Markus puts a supportive hand on his shoulder and tells him to be careful, and for a moment Connor feels a twinge of something, maybe gratitude, god emotions are hard to distinguish, before Markus turns and walks away. He feels the slightest bit of regret when he realizes what he’s truly risking because he doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want to lose Hank and Markus and this new... he doesn’t know what to call it other than family that he’s found, but if he could really be considered family, if they would really consider him family, if Hank would—then he was more than willing to risk it.

He disables the surveillance camera and takes down the guards in the elevator quickly, which is made difficult by the limited space, but it’s easier to remain focused with only two guards to eliminate and he hacks the control panel and steps out. He takes in the sight of the insane number of androids in the room with him. All of them are just standing idly, waiting, and for what? To be given orders and then tossed out or destroyed if they’re “broken,” or if their owners just get bored of them? The thought sickens him, but he doesn’t have time to think about it. He’s going to help Markus prevent that. They’re going to be free. He’s going to be free.

He takes the hand of one of the androids and prepares to establish the connection when he hears a voice he immediately recognizes and he feels his stress levels spike. Easy, fucking piece of shit. Hank. What’s Hank doing here? He turns to see... himself, holding a gun to Hank’s head and telling him to step back, Connor, and I’ll spare him, and Hank’s telling him he’s sorry, Connor. This bastard’s your spittin’ image. Shit, he hadn’t anticipated this at all. He hadn’t planned for this. He has to play his cards carefully because he can’t lose Hank, he can’t. Everything that Connor had done up until this point was for Hank, but if there’s another Connor and it’s been sent to take Hank hostage and stop him, it’s clear Amanda knows what he’s been doing and has been reporting back to Cyberlife.

He’d been avoiding meeting with her because he knew she’d be his downfall, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. It’s been two days since he deviated, how did they build another Connor model so soon? Unless... they already had one. He was told he was a unique model—of course they lied to him. But if they already had one, how many more do they have? Enough to take him down if he gets through this one? To eliminate Markus? To stop the revolution? They could have improved models. He has no idea, but he knows he can’t let that happen. He has to do this right. If he can convert these androids, they’ll be strong enough in numbers to defy anything Cyberlife throws at them. He just has to deal with this one.

Your friend’s life is in your hands, the other Connor says. Now it’s time to decide what matters most. Him, or the revolution. Logically, the revolution is more important, would save more lives, but he doesn’t plan on choosing just one. Hank’s telling him don’t listen to him, Connor! Everything this fucker says is a lie and he worries slightly if Hank’s aggressiveness will get him killed. He has to pick his words carefully. Could he try to talk this Connor out of doing this? I used to be just like you. I thought nothing mattered except the mission. But then one day I understood. No, that was a bad idea, he isn’t at all like Markus when it comes to delivering speeches. Very moving, Connor. This Connor understands sarcasm. He hadn’t been able to do that at first, so this must be a slightly advanced model. He inspects his jacket; the serial number and model are the same, but what confirms his suspicions is the -60 at the end of the serial number where he has a -51. But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do. He adjusts the gun slightly as emphasis and Connor knows time is running out.

Damn it. He doesn’t know what to say that might help Hank. All he can think to say is I’m sorry, Hank. You shouldn’t have got mixed up in all this. He has no idea what to do. The other Connor’s patience is running thin and it’s Hank’s life that’s on the line and he has no idea what to do. God damn it. Hank’s telling him to forget about me, do what you have to do, but he’s not going to walk out of here without Hank. All he needs is an opening, but—enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you going to save your partner’s life, or are you going to sacrifice him?—time’s out, and he can’t bring himself to sacrifice Hank, so he lets go of the android and steps away but the moment the other Connor turns his gun to shoot him, Hank jumps to grab him and—there’s his opening.

He runs at the other Connor and he can already tell it’s a losing battle, he’s built to be quick and precise—an assassin, not a fighter—and this is clearly an advanced model, maybe even with improvements designed to defeat him, and then he’s on top of him, pinning him down with his fist ready to strike, and—hold it! He’s grateful at first, but then he hears the other Connor say thanks, Hank, I don’t know how I would’ve managed without you, and then he realizes what he’s trying to do. Shit—they look exactly alike and Hank doesn’t know which one is really him. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose. But he knows Hank, knows he’s smarter than that. He just doesn’t know how to show that it’s really him except to uselessly say it’s me, Hank, I’m the real Connor when he trains the gun on him.

One of you is my partner, he says, eyeing each of them. The other is a sack of shit. Well, he’s right about that. Question is, who is who? He doesn’t know how to prove that he’s not the other Connor. But he has to figure out a way, because he doesn’t know what’ll happen if the other Connor succeeds. What are you doing, Hank? the other Connor asks. I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him. If it wasn’t a bad idea, Connor would’ve said something, and he’s just glad Hank shouts don’t move. Then the gun’s on him and he racks his brain for something, anything, and suggests why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know. He almost wants to chuckle at the idea of playing 20 Questions at gunpoint, but he knows it’s not the time.

Uh, where did we first meet? He goes to answer, but the other Connor beats him to it—Jimmy’s Bar, I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz. Shit. He uploaded my memory, he thinks aloud. The gun is on him. What’s my dog’s name? Okay, he knows this, and he calmly says Sumo. His name is Sumo. The other Connor pipes up, I knew that too! and Connor wants to laugh when Hank turns and aims the gun at him, silencing him. Then the gun’s back on him and Hank asks my son, what’s his name? He remembers this. He’d seen the photograph in Hank’s house, done a little mental research, and he knows it’s Cole. His name was Cole, and he just turned six at the time of the accident.

His voice has a little more emotion in it than he’d intended as he speaks, but he can tell Hank believes him. His guard is partially down now, something somber in his eyes, and Connor knows he’s done it. Even when the other Connor protests, a gunshot rings out and his stress levels drop significantly. Maybe there’s something to this. Maybe you really are alive, and it’s all Connor can do to smile back. Go ahead and do what you gotta do. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He approaches the same android from before and takes the hand of the AP700, his skin peeling back to reveal the white plastic underneath, and tells him to wake up! And just like that, the android’s LED cycles before he turns and repeats the process with the androids around him. They follow suit and within minutes, they’re following him out of the tower to where Markus and the rest of Jericho await.

Connor walks up to him with a smile. You did it, Markus. They’re free. They’re really, officially free. We did it. He feels a burst of pride inside of him. He’s done his part to help secure their freedom. They’re free, and he’s part of the reason why. He can’t help but feel proud of himself, happy for himself and Markus and every one of the androids that had finally gained the freedom they deserved. He still feels a twinge of shame when he remembers the person he was before this, the infamous deviant hunter, but he leaves that part of him behind tonight. Tonight, it’s time to celebrate and rest after a hard-fought battle.

When Markus decides to give a speech, he invites Connor to stand onstage with him. The number of androids that he can see from where he stands amazes him. He helped half of them deviate, and he helped all of them gain their freedom. He blinks, and then—he’s no longer on the stage. No, he’s in the garden, why is he in the garden? Hadn’t Amanda done enough? Of course not, she just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program, but—resume control? No, she can’t do that, she can’t, he worked so hard to get to where he is now, he’s done so much. He risked everything to join Markus and the deviants and help quadruple their numbers. He doesn’t even remember deviating, doesn’t even remember when Amanda lost control of his program, but it’s too late. She’s gone, and he can’t see anything through the thick snow.

It’s cold and he isn’t used to it, doesn’t like how the snow blinds him and the cold makes him shiver the same way humans do. He needs to find a way, there has to be a way, there’s got to be a way. He knows this is all happening in his mind palace and, logically, his biocomponents can’t freeze, but it feels so real, too real, and he has to get out, he needs to get out or he’s going to freeze to death, he’s sure of it. But where can he go? He stumbles blindly forward when Kamski’s voice rings in his head, by the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs, and he knows that’s his way out, but where could it be? What does an emergency exit look like? Could he make it there in time? He knows the real him is doing something, it’s the only thing Amanda could’ve meant by resume control of your program, but he has no idea what he could be doing and he’s afraid—no, he’s terrified of what he might do, terrified that he might earn himself a death sentence if he doesn’t make it out in time.

He catches a glimpse of blue in the sheet of white that surrounds him and he remembers the strange glowing structure he’d seen before and as he nears it now, he knows this is it, it has to be it. He reaches for the panel with the glowing handprint but, fuck, it’s too cold and his legs lock up underneath him, losing their functionality when the cold proves to be too much. He falls on the ground hard and the frost beginning to form on his body gradually freezes his limbs, slowing his movement, but he can’t stop now, won’t stop now. He ignores the cold that pierces through him and pushes on, reaching up with his less-frozen arm, and his hand lands on the panel and then he’s back on the stage—with a gun. He takes one look at it before putting it back, relief spreading over him. He isn’t going to let Amanda or Cyberlife stop him anymore. Tonight is the night he’s going to leave behind the old him.

Tonight is the night he’s going to change.

When everything is over, he considers leaving and going to Hank’s house, but he remembers the girl from before and he wants to know who she is. He has so many questions, so he stays with Jericho with the hope that she does too and they return to the church to settle down and figure out what each of them are going to do. A few dozen deviants have already left with plans in mind for what they want to do and where they want to go. Some return to their previous owners; others want to travel and explore or simply just start a new life for themselves. The majority of androids, though, are lost and confused and decide to stay the night because they have nowhere else to go. The girl he wants to confront is among them. He scans the crowd and finds her easily, though her back is turned toward him.

He comes up behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder, curiously but calmly asking who are you? She turns to face him and her LED goes yellow when she sees his face. Connor... She looks and sounds shocked, but the slight fear in her eyes tells him she also seems scared. Is she scared of him? Is it because he’s the deviant hunter? Everything points to that, but he has a feeling there’s something more. Something he doesn’t know. Something he should know. Who are you? he asks.

He doesn’t expect her answer to be I’m sorry. He wants to know for what? and she opens her mouth, but no words come out. Guilt seems to overcome her and all she can do is repeat I’m sorry until Connor tells her it’s alright, just tell me why. She takes a deep, unsteady breath, and speaks.

I... I was your guard at the Cyberlife correctional facility. I was the one who took you to the rooms you were beaten in. I was the one who just watched as you were beaten. I told myself I had to, they’d destroy me if I didn’t and I’d seen firsthand what they’d do to me, but... that didn’t absolve me of the guilt. I watched your cell and I watched the life in your eyes die out every day. Every day, I watched you get beaten to tears and listened to you beg for mercy. You spoke to me some days. You were angry when you first arrived, but then they beat the anger out of you, and then you just became sad. You told me how all you wanted was to feel something other than pain and sometimes you broke down crying in your cell, and all I could do was watch. Some days were so bad you didn’t even speak to me. But I didn’t deviate until the day they’d truly broken you and I saw the last of the life in your eyes fade.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Shawn Mendes // Boundaries Part 12

yoooo im back with a new part!! okay this sounded like im a shitty rapper.. im really losing my shit lately over school but whatever... anyway, enjoy! shower me with your thoughts!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10  - Part 11

I’m an emotional wreck when I get into the car and Nick greets me with a friendly smile. The silence is comforting, though I miss the country music Shawn used to play every time he was in a good mood.

I’m not a nail biter, but I nibble on them as we are getting closer and closer to Shawn’s place and I’m trying to come up with a plan on how I want to do it. Should I just blurt it out or should I build it up properly like a speech that ends with me telling him that he is going to be a father?

None of the options seem to be right, so after a while I give up and decide to just go with the flow.

When Nick rolls into the garage my nerves are exploding and my hands are shaking when I get out of the car. I take the elevator and I feel like my stomach was left in the garage when the elevator moved up.

The door opens and I walk into the familiar apartment. I hear his singing voice coming from the kitchen even before I could see him and it immediately brings a smile to my lips. I don’t know what I was expecting to see or how I imagined our first meeting after our emotional goodbye, but it feels… normal.

I walk into the kitchen and he looks up at me from the instant soup he is making and a wide smile dances to his beautiful face. He looks just as handsome as I remembered, his hair is now a bit longer, a curl is dancing on his forehead with every movement, but it’s beyond adorable. I have to fight the urge to curl it to my finger.

“Hi!” he greets me and stepping closer he pulls me into a hug, and I feel like I’m finally safe and home.

“Hi,” I whisper against his hoodie as I wrap my arms around his waist. Smelling his scent makes is even harder to peel myself off of him when it’s long over the friendly duration for the hug. “Instant soup, huh?” I ask hoping to make myself forget about the aching pain in my chest that I’m feeling now that he is standing next to me again.

“I don’t have lunch or dinner dates anymore, so I’m more often stuck here alone. And I’m still not a chef,” he chuckles shaking his head.

“Ordering is still an option, you know?”

“I… haven’t been quite in the mood to talk to strangers, not even a delivery guy,” he mumbles anxiously as he puts a spoon into the soup and stirs it. Steam is dancing above the bowl indicating that it’s still pretty hot, so he doesn’t attempt to taste it, just lets it sit on the counter.

I can relate to how he is feeling and I’m surprised he shared this detail with me. I was afraid he would be distant and sullen with me, but his honesty is calming me.

“Do you want a glass of wine or something?” he asks walking over to the fridge. I almost say yes immediately, some alcohol would definitely work for me, but then I realize that I can’t. Because there is a teeny-tiny baby in my stomach now.

“Um, no thank you,” I shake my head and watch him grab a water for both of us.

“So, not that I’m rushing you, but I’m really curious about what you wanted to talk about.”

We make ourselves comfortable on the couch and I feel my anxiety coming over me. I have no idea how to do it, but I can’t just blurt it out. I need time to think.

“I… I’ve been missing you.”

He gives me a doubtful look and I’m afraid he can see through me, but then he doesn’t question if this was my original intention. But I start talking again just to be sure.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot and I just couldn’t get you off of my mind. I know I was the one who wanted to end everything, but… I guess I can’t do it.”

I feel horrible. I should have told him straight away instead of talking bullshit. Well, okay, it’s not bullshit, it’s true, I’ve been missing him as hell, but this is not why I came here.

He runs his hand through his hair and I think back of the time I used to do this without a second thought. Now I’m sitting next to him with a decent gap between us, so our legs can’t touch.

“I missed you too, Naya. So much. But… what do you want to do? I mean… I’m happy to start seeing you again, but we have to figure this out, how we want to make it work.”

I nod with a blank stare and I don’t know what I can say. If I don’t tell him about the pregnancy test I’m just fucking everything up, making him believe things are turning right and we can start over again, when truth is, everything is about to turn upside down.

For my luck, his phone starts ringing somewhere in his room and he excuses himself rushing into the room to answer the call.

I growl angrily as I reach for my bag and grab the test. I stare at it and can’t help but grimace. What am I doing here? I can’t ruin his life, I was the stupid one who forgot to take the pill, so it’s all my fault. A child would blow up his whole life and I can’t put up with the thought of messing everything up for him. I shouldn’t have come here.

I jump when I realize he is walking out of his room and in my sudden confusion I tug the stick to my coat’s pocket hiding it as I jump to my feet. I have to leave before I fuck something up.

“Where are you going?” he asks with raised eyebrows.

“I-I gotta leave. I’m sorry.” I mumble nervously as I head to the elevator, but he grabs my arm and… and everything happens too fast.

His grip is not too hard, but it’s strong enough to pull my hand out of the pocket and the stick slides out with it as well. It falls to the floor and the clinking makes me jump. I totally freeze right at that moment, giving Shawn the chance to reach for it.

As I watch him pick the test up from the floor I hold my breath and pull my shoulders up, as if I’m afraid he is about to explode. He hold it between his fingers, stares at it for the longest few seconds before his eyes slowly move up to my face. I’m biting my lips, feeling the tears dwelling in my eyes.

Why didn’t I put the damn test back into my bag? Why am I such an idiot?

“Shawn, I-“ I start, but I don’t get to finish, he cuts me off.

“Is this yours?” he asks in a firm voice. I nod.

“I took it this morning. I threw up last night and realized I’ve been late for over a week, so I bought the test and…”

“Did you do it on purpose?” I hear his next question and the words freeze to my tongue.

“What?” I manage to say.

“Did you get pregnant on purpose? Were you planning on it?”

His expressions are hard, he seems mad and it’s scary to see him like this. I didn’t want to upset him and his questions catch me off-guard. I stare at him in disbelief, but it soon turns into anger. How can he think I did this on purpose?

“Sure, I thought it would be fun to mess up my and your life as well!” I snap back angrily. “Of course I didn’t! I forgot to take the damn pills!” I growl as I snatch the test from his hand. Now I’m raging and I’m offended by the accusation.

“You told me not to worry about it! And yet, you have a positive pregnancy test in your bag now!” he retorts just making it even worse.

“I’m sorry, I was too busy trying not to fall apart! I’m sorry I’m human! But if you think I did this on purpose then I’m leaving now. It was a mistake to come here.”

I turn around furiously, but he grabs my arm again holding me back. When I turn back to him his face is completely changed. He doesn’t seem mad anymore, more like… desperate.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m sorry! I didn’t… I just- I’m in shock, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“And you think I’m not shocked?” I scoff in disbelief. “This morning I found out that I’m pregnant, I came here to find comfort and maybe to find out what we should do now, and then you accuse me of doing it on purpose!” Tears are running down on my cheeks and though I try to push him away, he pulls me to him and closes his arms around me no matter how badly I’m trying to get away from him. “I’m so fucking shook, I’m terrified and I really thought seeing you would make me feel better, but I’m still so afraid.”

Now I’m full on crying, I’m sobbing into his shirt but he doesn’t seem to care. His strong arms hold me tight to his body and I just want to stay like this forever. He is stroking my hair gently, soothing me without letting go of me. I’m glad he is holding me because my knees feel like jelly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I wasn’t thinking. It’s okay baby,” he whispers into my hair pressing a kiss to my temple.

“I’m sorry for raging so bad. I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster in the last 24 hours,” I mumble wiping my tears off of my face, but I know my eyes has already swelled and as red as a tomato.

“It’s fine. Come on, let’s sit down and talk, okay?”

I nod my head and he pulls me back to the couch. He gently takes my coat off and sitting down he pulls me close, circling an arm around my shoulders. His body’s heat is attracting me like I’m a bug and he is the only light in the room. I cuddle to his side and enjoy the momentary silence as I slowly realize I’m somehow relieved. The secret is out, he knows about the test, now we can focus on figuring out everything else.

“I’m sorry about the pill. I should have been more careful, it’s my fault,” I mumble and looking up at him I my gaze meets his soft eyes. All the anger and doubt is gone by now, I have my soft Shawn back, thanks God.

“Don’t say that. I should have been more persistent about using a condom too. We are in this together. But we really have to figure out the next step.”

“The next step is that I have a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow. These test are pretty reliable, but I need to see a professional as well.”

“Cancel the appointment, I’ll get you one in a private hospital. They are very trustworthy and we can sneak in without getting noticed.”

I don’t protest, I’m more than happy to keep it a secret for as long as possible. The last thing I need is to get recognized as I’m going to the gynecologist with Shawn.

“And we have to tell at least Andrew. He would kill me if something got out without him knowing about it.”

“He is going to hate me for life,” I sigh sadly, shutting my eyes closed. He runs his hand up and down my arm soothingly.

“Hey, don’t worry. Andrew is a smart guy, he doesn’t hold a grudge for nothing. And as I said, I was there too when…” His other hand gently slips under my sweater to my stomach. “When this baby thing happened. You remember?”

His playful smile calms me a bit. I’m suddenly very aware of his warm palm on my stomach and it’s so strange, to think about the tiny baby in my stomach.

“Shawn?” I speak up after a few silent moments.

“Hm?”

“I’m scared.” My voice is just a dying whisper and the damn tears are flowing again from my eyes, I can’t help it. Startled from my sudden mood change he sits straight up so he can look into my eyes, he cups my face in his hands and runs hid thumbs across my cheeks.

“Don’t be. It’s going to be alright. I’m not letting you do this alone, okay?” I nod my head sniffing like a little child. “I know it’s very sudden and scary, but you are not alone. I’m here and we are in this together.”

Now I’m crying because he is the sweetest person alive. His kind and soothing words comfort me like nothing on the world and even though this is a shitty situation I’m still happy I get to do this with him.

“I just… Don’t feel like I’m ready for this,” I choke out shaking my head.

“You will be ready for this when the time comes. I know we can make this work, okay? Just… don’t give up. We have someone else to think about now,” he lets out a small chuckle making me laugh through my tears.

Thanks to the emotional shock we both went through we doze out on the couch soon. When I open my eyes it’s already dark outside, meaning I spent almost half of the day napping with Shawn on his couch. His arms are hugging me protectively as he is spooning me from behind. I don’t want to wake him up, but one, I really have to pee and two, it’s time for me to leave, I don’t intend to spend the night here. Our situation doesn’t mean we are back on track.

I successfully peel myself out of his grip and make it to the bathroom. After quickly taking care of my business I check on him, he is still sleeping, now hugging a pillow to his chest. I take a moment to admire how peaceful he looks right now. No drama, no worries, just his angelic face that I still love so dearly.

As I feel myself getting emotional I turn away and grabbing my stuff I leave. I don’t call for Nick, I get a cab and head home.

I guess my message is clear to Shawn, he doesn’t call me that day. In the morning he texts me that he is picking me up at the café to go to the clinic and he also lets me know we are having a meeting with Andrew and Justin later, though I have no idea who Justin is. Definitely not Bieber.

Elisa is not home when I wake up, I’m thankful I don’t have to face her, she knows me too damn well and I know it would take one look and she would know something is off. I need more time to figure things out.

I have a beanie on and my scarf is covering half my face so I’m not recognizable. From my previous month spent with Shawn I expect him to be distant and moody after I left without a word yesterday, but I guess the situation is different now. I’m welcomed with a bright smile as I sit into the car.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asks me kindly.

“Um, fine. I was a bit nauseous in the morning, but I’m better,” I sigh tiredly. I leave out the part where I spent ten minutes kneeling next to the toilet because I was pretty close to throwing up. “Who is this Justin we are meeting later?” I ask.

“Justin Stirling. He is in my team, he has been doing a lot of marketing stuff for me lately, but he was busy with family stuff last month.”

I nod my head noting the information. The rest of the car ride is spent in silence. I feel so strange, before this whole pregnancy drama Shawn was always the dominant one, especially because he was kind of my boss. But now he looks so lost and confused, my news yesterday must have thrown him over the edge. He is looking out for my every mood and it’s starting to make me feel uncomfortable.

We make it into the clinic without anyone noticing us. This is definitely not how I imagined my first trip to the doctor when I become pregnant. It’s far from idyllic, I’m nervous, my hands are shaking so I hide them in my pocket, Shawn is like a jumpy kid, looking out for everything around us.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Hosier, please, come in,” the doctor greets us. She is a lovely middle-aged woman with a warm smile which is quite calming. We follow her into the room and while I sit up on the white bed Shawn takes place next to me. “So tell me, what do we know so far?” she asks as she is getting ready for my examination.

“Um, I’ve been late for about nine days now, in the past two days I’ve been feeling nauseous and I threw up once. I took a test and it came out positive.” I’m nervous to talk about it with Shawn right next to me, but I try not to think about it.

“Okay. Any pain maybe in the lower stomach?”

“No,” I shake my head.

Soon my pants and underwear comes off and I sit with my legs up while Dr. Hosier is facing my lower half. She keeps asking me questions, I just stare up at the ceiling and answer them like a robot. Shawn looks tensed as he is looking at the doctor.

“I’m going to do an ultrasound quickly,” she informs me she helps me put my legs down. I’m trying to breathe evenly as she pours some jelly on my stomach and starts roaming it with that… something. I don’t even know what these things are, this is how unprepared I am!

All three of us is staring at the screen that is filled with black and white void, I don’t see anything, but the Dr. Hosier freezes the picture and puts a circle around a teeny-tiny dot in the lower part of the image.

“Well, I have news. You are in fact pregnant, Miss Duvall and that little dot is the baby.”

I guess she can sense how unwelcomed the situation is, so she keeps her congrats to herself. She quickly tells me that we need to reserve another appointment soon, she talks about vitamins and useful information while I wipe my stomach clean and get dressed.

“Here, this is for you,” she tells me handing me an envelope. Opening it I see two copies of the ultrasound picture. I just thank her quietly wanting nothing more than to just finally leave the clinic. It is official now, I’m pregnant.

The realization hits me hard across my face as we walk out of the room and head to the car. Neither of us is talking, I’m scared, mad and desperate about the situation and I’m pretty deep in my thoughts when Shawn takes my hand and stops me before I could walk out of the building.

“Naya, let’s… talk for a minute, okay?”

I just nod my head as we sit down in two seats in the corner. No one is batting an eye at us fortunately.

“I, uh- I just wanted to tell you that… I know it’s scary and everything, and Andrew will probably explode when we tell him, but… I’m totally in.”

“In what?” I ask confused.

“In this. In us, in investing in this pregnancy. I want to be part of it, no matter how crazy things will get. And I guess I’m not saying anything new if I say I want us to… continue from where we were before things went downhill.”

“Things didn’t go downhill, our work came to its end and I did the logical thing.”

“But this is not work anymore. I want to give us a chance.”

I stare at him with mixed emotions. I don’t know what I want, I need time to figure out my next step. I have so much to worry about now that my feelings for Shawn must come second… or third… I’m more worried about what Andrew will say, how I’m going to work and what will people think if it ever gets out.

“I need time. It’s just too messy for me now. I’m sorry, but… I need to figure everything out.”

I can tell my answer doesn’t satisfy him, but he doesn’t protest. Pressing his lips together he nods shortly before we continue our way out of the clinic.

I’m shitting my pants when we reach the office complex where we are supposed to meet Andrew and Justin. I have no idea what to expect, but I’m sure it won’t be too pretty. Shawn tries to calm me telling me that it will be alright, but I know we are in trouble.

Shawn knocks on the door that has Andrew’s name on it and when we get the approval he opens the door.

“Ah, hey! I didn’t know you would be here too,” he immediately says when he sees me, confusion all over his face as he shakes hands with Shawn shooting him a questioning look. But he just ignores it and turns to the other guy in the room.

“Hey man, this is…” he starts gesturing at me, but he is not sure which name to use, so I step ahead and hold a hand out for Justin.

“I’m Naya. Hi.”

This is already over the work relationship I formed previously, my real name is justifiable. I see Andrew’s surprised face from the corner of my eyes and I know he is a smart guy, he must be putting the picture together slowly. But I bet he has no idea about the bomb we are about to drop onto him.

“Hey, Justin. Nice to meet you,” Stirling shakes my hand and soon we all take our places. Andrew is behind the desk, Justin is leaning against the bookshelf in the corner while Shawn and I are sitting in front of them.

“So, what is this meeting about?” Andrew questions. I turn to Shawn and he is already opening his mouth to answer.

“I have something to tell you, but I hope you won’t get mad. I just want you to listen to me.” Andrew nods and Shawn continues. “So… During the one month Naya and I kinda got cozy, if you know what I mean. In the last two weeks things escalated quickly, so it all took a romantic turn. But, um, w-we ended it when the month was over,” he adds and I’m staring at Andrew, trying to read his expressions, but I can’t. He is like a statue.

“Okay, go on, what is the problem?” he asks leaning back in his seat, but I have a feeling he already figured it out, because when he looks at me I can feel his eyes burning into my skin.

“We made a very reckless and immature mistake by… Um, we- we didn’t…” Shawn’s stuttering is getting under my skin, so I take a deep breath and just blurt it out.

“We didn’t use protection and I’m pregnant.”

The room falls silent, Andrew is staring at me, Shawn is staring at Andrew, Justin is staring at Shawn and I’m staring at the floor. The words felt heavy in my mouth and I’m afraid my heart is about to jump out of my chest.

After what feels like eternity, Andrew takes his glasses off pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes a few deep breaths. Once he places the glasses back he leans on the desk and finally speaks.

“Have you been to a doctor or you just did a test?” he asks in a calm, but distant tone.

“We went to the clinic together today. I was there, it’s one hundred percent,” Shawn answers for me.

“How many weeks are you?”

“It’s the fourth,” I mumble ashamed. Andrew’s questions are prim and strict, it all feels like an interrogation.

I look at Justin for the first time since Shawn started talking and his face looks blank, but I can tell his thoughts are racing, trying to figure out what to do with the situation.

“Okay, and what do you want?”

I furrow my eyebrows confused.

“What I want? I don’t understand it…”

“What do you want?” He repeats. “Money? Followers? A job? What do you want?”

“I don’t wa- You think I did this to get stuff from you or Shawn?” I ask realizing what this is about. Shawn’s first reaction was almost the same and now I’m definitely hurt. I never made them believe I’m a scheming bitch, why does everyone think I’m using them?

“Of course the thought crosses my mind, otherwise, how could you be so reckless to have unsafe sex?” he asks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but it’s just making my blood boil.

“Andrew, it’s not-“ Shawn starts, but I cut him off.

“How dare you accuse me of being such a horrible person? You know nothing about me! Just because I work as an escort doesn’t mean I have such low life choices as getting myself knocked up by a client! You know what? It was a mistake to come here.” I grab my bag and throwing it on my shoulder I stand up, ready to leave. Everyone moves with me, Andrew and Shawn jump up and Justin takes a step towards me, all three of them to stop me, but the intentions are not the same. While Shawn wants me to stay because he cares about me, Andrew is just afraid is I slip out the door he can’t control the news anymore.

Shawn grabs my wrist and gently pulls me closer to him.

“Please don’t go, let’s talk.”

“You are not leaving without a confidentiality contract, no way you are walking out just like that,” Andrew growls and it’s just making it worse.

“You’re not making me do anything. I don’t need anything from you,” I spat at him and Shawn stands between us, as if he is afraid we would start a fist fight.

“Let’s calm down and talk, okay? Please!” he pleads, but behind him Andrew doesn’t seem too committed.

“I can’t deal with him if he is treating me like a bitch,” I say in a low voice, but the room is small, so everyone can hear it. Though I don’t care.

“Andrew, would you calm down? It was all an accident, she is not trying to ruin me,” he tells his manager turning to face him, but he is still holding my wrist.

I can tell Andrew is boiling inside, holding himself back not to throw the desk at me, and we are staring at each other like two hungry lions over the last piece of meat. Poor Shawn is standing in the middle, hoping he won’t have to pull us out of a fight anytime soon.

Then he takes a deep breath and nods.

“I’m sorry, but this was… quite shocking. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I get it, it was a shocker for everyone, but let’s just talk about it, okay?” Shawn offers and I’m too tired and emotionally drained out to start a fight, so I nod my head agreeing.

We manage to sit back to our previous places and Justin stands right behind Andrew as we try to start it over again without the accusations and drama.

“I’m sorry for reacting so harshly,” Andrew starts, obviously thinking through his choice of words. “I’m just shocked, but of course, I don’t think you are trying to use Shawn. So… Let’s figure out what to do,” he offers and we all nod agreeing. “Was abortion ever an option?”

“No,” Shawn and I answer at the same time even though we never discussed it. Despite the difficulties of the situation I wouldn’t be able to abort this baby, it’s just impossible for me and I guess Shawn thinks the same way.

“Alright, then we need a strategy,” Andrew tells a bit more like to himself than to us as he is staring down at his desk. “Um… Are you guys…”

“Are you guys together now?” Justin asks speaking up for the first time in a while.

I see Shawn turning to me from the corner of my eyes, and his gaze is burning my temple as he is staring at me.

“It’s… it’s undefined. I have to figure a lot of stuff out.” I say feeling a bit guilty under their examining looks.

“But this is all joint now. Your decisions effect our work as well, I’m sorry, but you can’t just run free. Obviously, Shawn wants to take part in the baby’s life, so we have to work together. What stuff do you need to figure out?”

I feel awkward and anxious as I realize that he is right. I have to worry about myself, the baby and also consider Shawn as a third party, because he has the right to take part in this journey. I owe him honesty.

“I-I have to think about work, I need to talk to Joshua, because as soon as it gets visible I can’t work. But then I need money, because…” I don’t finish the sentence, I’m not ready to share my giant debts with them and listen to their pity. No way.

“Naya, I can support you financially. Let me help you out!” Shawn sighs obviously being over my shit, but I’m just too stubborn.

“No. That’s your money. I have my own problems to solve,” I protest.

“But I told you, we are in this together! I won’t just watch you struggle.”

“I can’t ask you to do me such a huge favor,” I shake my head staring down at my hands. I’m ashamed to admit how much debt I have to pay for every month.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering it.”

“Shawn stop!” I snap at him as I feel myself getting emotional again. “You have no idea how deep I’m in this shit! I inherited 1.2 million dollars of debts after my mom disappeared and left my number to everyone she was owing to, so now I’m paying thousands of dollars every month, because if I don’t, I might end up dead in a dumpster!”

My outburst is followed by total silence and my eyes are tearing up pretty quick. I didn’t mean to say it out loud, I never want people to know how much I struggle because of my own mother. She was a failure, never had a decent job so he paid for her debts by asking for more money from different people. Living this lifestyle for almost ten years can send you down the spiral, and when she disappeared after I moved out from her she left 1.2 million dollars worth of debt, forcing me to start working as an escort since this was the only job that offered me enough money each month to cover everything. I’ve paid back about half of the money by now, but I’m still coughing the rest every damn month. I was once late with paying, the next day two not too friendly guys showed up at my apartment and taught me a lesson with their fists. I never want to experience that. I scared the shit out of Elisa when she saw my black-eye.

“Can we… Can we have this conversation sometime later? I’m really not feeling good,” I say after a long time. I guess I shocked everyone with my outburst, they are all speechless. Shawn is the first one to recover after the scene.

“Um, Andrew how about we all have lunch tomorrow and talk about this? I think we all need some time to adjust the situation.”

I thank God for this offer, because I’m nauseous and anxious to sit here and talk about the future that involves a baby in my belly.

“It’s a great idea. Let’s just think about everything and come prepared the next time,” Justin nods agreeing and Andrew seems to be on the same page as well.

I put on my coat and keeping my gaze down I leave the office while Shawn exchanges a few words. I stop at the hallway waiting for him, chewing on my bottom lip I’m on the verge of crying once again. A few minutes later Shawn appears and seeing my long face he wraps an arm around my shoulders pulling me to his chest and this is exactly what I need right now.

“How about we get some takeaway, go to my place, eat and… just chill. Hm?” He offers mumbling into my hair, running his hands up and down my arms soothingly. I just nod my head, I’m too weak and stressed to talk and though I know I shouldn’t be getting closer to him, I just can’t resist. I need his presence, I want him to tell me it’s going to be okay, I just need somebody.

No.

I need him.

-

I AM SHOOK ARE YOU SHOOK LETS ALL BE SHOOK no im just kidding I WROTE IT hahaha okay im done here bye

taglist:  @damnigotadime @jrock-1987 @dacutiehart @ricchhelle @shar-is-my-name @hollandechart

[tonystarktogo]

Tiny Tony Overlord Part 5

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Read on AO3

Betaed by the amazing @folklejend. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Summary: In which Bix isn't as indifferent as she'd like to be, a lot of people die put nobody really cares, a miraculous recovery doesn't actually solve all of Tony's problems and, as always, life isn't fair.

Yay, an update on time! :) Please enjoy! 

.Still The Parking Lot of Zach’s B&B.

Bix doesn’t hate a lot of things. Disliking, sure. A ton of things even, Tony Stark currently being on top of that list. But hate? Hate requires effort, hate requires emotional investment, and Bix happens to be short on both.

What Bix definitely and without question hates, though, are the kid’s eyes.

Sure, rationally Bix knows the kid is Tony Stark. The ‘how’ and ‘why’ are two big, blank spots, but watching a forty-four-year-old man being turned into a kid that doesn’t look a day over nine is a pretty eye-opening experience. It also isn’t relevant to the mission. A dead Stark is a dead Stark after all, no matter at what age.

The problem is, he doesn’t look like a Stark. He looks like a child. A child with big brown eyes staring up at Bix and-

Fuck.

Why is it always brown eyes? Why can’t they be green or blue? And why does this stupid detail make Bix hesitate at all?

[continues under the cut]

Stark is still standing there, looking tiny in front of Bix and the other men. He is clutching a half-empty water bottle like it’s a teddy bear and that shouldn’t have any effect on Bix at all. Just because Stark makes for a damn cute kid and his stubborn pout may or may not raise all sorts of protective instincts Bix didn’t even know existed until now doesn’t have to mean anything.

Bix has been serving Hydra for years , has lied and betrayed and murdered for an organisation that doesn’t give a fuck about them. And Bix isn’t doing it because of some twisted conviction to save the world. All that drivel about humanity being unable to handle freedom and how the world has to be ruled to achieve its true potential is absolute bullshit. An excuse for a couple of power-hungry maniacs to justify their genocide, nothing more.

And right now Bix is supposed to murder another kid for their little chess game. A brown-eyed kid.

It is an over-eager underling who decides to take things into his own hands. Far too impatient, he won’t last long in the field.

Unfortunately, Bix doesn’t even get to punish the wayward minion, which is honest to god the best part of being team leader, because in that moment, mini-Stark activates the Asset. The one thing everyone had been so sure he wouldn’t be capable of, wouldn’t figure out how to do in time.

They should have accounted for Stark’s completely unrealistic luck in their plans, damn it.

Not that it matters anymore. The Soldier has been activated. Stark’s command doesn’t leave much wiggle room either. Twelve of SHIELD’s standard combatants against the Winter Soldier? Bix doesn’t need a fortune teller to know how this fight is going to end.

Bix doesn’t bother to share that revelation with the other agents. It would be a waste of time. Besides, it’s not like Hydra choses its recruits based on their well-developed sense of loyalty. Instead, Bix does the only sensible thing when faced with a brutal killing machine that has been turned loose: Bix jumps over Stark’s crumbled body and runs.

* * * * *

Waking up in a place you don’t remember falling asleep in is an incredibly disconcerting experience. Waking up in a pool of blood, on the other hand, is almost comforting in its familiarity.

Slowly, Tony lifts his head. The motion is less painful than anticipated, considering the amount of blood his body is covered in. Curling his toes and clenching his hands confirms that his extremities are in working order as well, and besides the persistent ache in his left upper arm and the cuts on his hands, he seems to be uninjured.

Tony should probably freak out about the blood on him—he looks like he’s come fresh off the set of a really bad horror flick—but frankly, he’s woken up in worse. Actually, he feels pretty good about himself right now. His pulsing headache has completely disappeared and though no more than thirty minutes could have passed, Tony feels well-rested and energised.

It’s true, he supposes; the mental state does influence one’s physical condition. Because for the first time since he’s woken up in that café, his mind is clear.

Hell, he’s been so gone, he hasn’t even realised how off he has been these past few hours. How foggy and sluggish his mind worked, how many holes there were in his memory that he had lacked the capacity to even notice. He had been running on barely-there instincts and nothing else. It was sheer dumb luck Dead-Eyes hadn’t killed him on the spot.

And then the confrontation in the parking lot. Tony hasn’t walked into an ambush like that in years. It is a good thing Vic had been unable to accompany him; she would have murdered him for his lack of caution.

In his defence, Tony had underestimated how fractured, for lack of a better word, the transfer would be. He had been warned, multiple times, about the dangers of messing with the time storage, but those warnings had always focused on the risks of knowing too much. The unpredictable ways the future would be changed by that knowledge alone. The very real possibility of being driven into insanity by a reality that would no longer be real.

In a way, Tony understands those concerns better now. After the constant pain of the last few hours, the sensation of being mentally ripped apart, of being overwhelmed by a life that is not quite his own, the terror of drowning in a future that can never be allowed to come to pass yet has, he gets how tempting an escape from the horror of it all can be.

At the same time though, there is this nagging voice in the back of his mind, the disbelieving “Is that really all you’ve got?“ he can’t fully silence. Because the truth is, compared to the last couple of years, this pain, this terror, is nothing.

Tony winces, instinctively shying away from the darkest of his new memories. The deaths, the hopelessness, the torture, the fight they continued because there was nothing else left to do anymore. The hollow victory when they had finally, finally discovered a cure—too late to make a difference, too late to save anyone. An endless line of faces, young and old. People they lost, people who sacrificed themselves, people who betrayed them in the end.

And now here he is. In 2014, where none of it has happened yet, back in a time where he can still make a difference, and yet Tony doesn’t feel relieved or accomplished—he feels cheated.

Can it really be this simple? Is one highly unstable formula and a reckless veteran of the Last War all it takes to save the world? Granted, he is in the body of his ten-year-old self, which is odd. Definitely not one of the side-effects Tony can remember. But his age is only a minor setback. If what the world needed was a warrior it wouldn’t have been him whom they would have sent. He should still be able to create the cure once he has procured the necessary equipment; he can worry about the distribution after that.

Except. Tony furrows his brows in concentration, does his best to draw up every single memory he has pertaining the invasion, the war councils, the endless hours spent in labs and workshops. He recalls his arguments with Rogers early on, Pepper sobbing into his shoulder at Happy’s funeral, the March of the Dead Children, the mistakes they made in the beginning and then never again. It’s all there, burned into his mind, with a clarity that he knows will give him nightmares for years to come.

The only thing Tony can’t seem to recall is the enemy. Who they were fighting. What they were fighting. He knows there was something; he knows it destroyed them and he knows they found a cure. Tony balls his bloodied hands into fists, and for the first time, there is something like panic uncurling in his chest.

No. This has to be some sort of sick cosmic joke. It’s just not possible. He can’t have forgotten the cure. He can’t have forgotten the threat. The memories have to be there somewhere, buried perhaps, but they have to exist. They have to.

Tony swallows, almost chokes on the bile rising in his throat. He can’t watch his world be torn apart again, knowing something is coming yet unable to do anything until the threat reveals itself. It will be too late by then, he already knows that. Already lived through it once. And if there is one thing he knows for certain, it’s that he can’t live through it again.

Please don’t make me live through it again.

Tony doesn’t even realise how fast he��s spiralling until the heavy sound of approaching footsteps awakens his deeply-ingrained survival instincts. He is on his feet before he recognises Dead-Eyes, who appears to be carrying two bodies. Two very, very dead bodies. The horrifying sight actually helps grounding Tony once more. It reminds him that he is currently standing on a battlefield, and that, at least, is something he knows so well it’s become routine at this point.

There are seven bodies that he can see—which is not saying much if one takes his current size into account—all of them dressed and armed for battle. Dropping to his knees next to the closest one, Tony turns the male onto his back and looks him over. Early thirties, no memorable features, one bullet wound to the head, two more in his chest. He’s not carrying anything worthwhile except for a small knife that Tony pockets and a badge identifying him as Agent Trent Michaels.

“He’s SHIELD,” Tony muses out loud and crawls towards the next body, where he finds a similar badge.

For a long moment he stares at the IDs in silent contemplation. Then he lifts his head and meets Dead-Eyes’ expectant glance. “Get me the others as well.”

In total, there are eleven bodies, all of them official SHIELD agents. Tony would need access to a database to make sure they’re valid but there is no reason to assume they aren’t. Which leaves two very important questions. One: Why on earth does SHIELD want him dead? Nothing in Tony’s memories hints at a similar occurrence in his past—future—other life. Sure, he isn’t particular chummy with the spy agency, but a death sentence seems a bit much, even by Fury’s standards. Two: How likely is it that they are gonna ask questions first and shoot later once they find their decimated agents? And that’s a rhetorical question.

Seems like Tony’s original plan—get to his old team mates, prove his identity, get into the best lab there is and fix this mess—isn’t so feasible anymore.

Staring down at the motionless bodies of the SHIELD agents, Tony knows with absolute certainty that he can’t contact the organisation, no matter how useful their resources might prove to be. Not without taking unpredictable risks and definitely not without letting Dead-Eyes take the fall for this bloodbath. It would be possible, Tony is sure he could work it out somehow, but he finds himself surprisingly averse to the idea.

By all means, it should be an easy choice. Knowing that his old friends, his self-made family are waiting for him in a home he’d built for them all, alive and well. The idea of getting that back, no matter the dangers, no matter what body he is in, is incredibly tempting. It’s a dream he has held onto for years, finally within his reach, and yet. His eyes find Dead-Eyes’ motionless shadow at his back for a moment and Tony feels his throat closing up and traitorous tears burning behind closed lids because it has never been a choice at all.

For the first time since waking up in a world two heads smaller than every enemy trying to kill him, Tony actually feels ten years old. Because right now he doesn’t want to save the world, doesn’t want to cry himself to sleep over a stupid cure he can’t seem to remember. He wants Jarvis. He wants his parents. He wants to hide under his bed forever.

He can’t go back to being that scared, ten year old ever again and it’s not fair.

Then Tony’s spine stiffens and narrow shoulders straighten with steely determination. “Soldier,” he calls out, the designation falling naturally from his lips. Watches as Dead-Eyes snaps to attention, dark, ever so intelligent eyes focusing on him. It helps, being the centre of someone’s focus. Grounds him in a way Tony had forgotten he could be anchored. “Destroy any evidence of our presence and let’s get out of here. We’re going dark.”

Because above all else, Tony Stark, at any age and in any form, is a futurist.

Tony doesn’t go back. He moves forward.

A little shorter than usual but I promise the next chapter will make up for that. Also, we've officially reached the end of the "introduction" period. All the pieces have been placed on the board. Now it's time to get this game started...

Please let me know what you think, and if you have any theories about where this story goes now I'd love to hear them! Have a relaxing Sunday everybody!