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catboybiologist · 2 months ago

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This deserves its own post from the clothes one because its so much more than that. I don't know if anyone else can relate, but I hope someone does.

I'm in a weird state right now where I'm pulling out of the "early" transition stages, and I'm slowly moving into what I feel is a fuzzily defined "mid" transition stage that will probably last years.

And... there's a weird thing going on. There's a certain kind of shock associated with it, when you're realizing something along the lines of..... "holy shit, I actually fit into the "woman" box of the world". It feels so weird to describe it as shock, cause like... that's the goal, isn't it?

Except. Think back to what the experience of early transition is like.

You put on your first woman's clothes. It doesn't fit. It's not made for you. Its not flattering. You probably don't know what you're doing.

You look online. You see popular depictions of trans women. They're men in dresses, usually, caricatures based on decades of transphobia- but you don't know that yet, and you don't know how to resist it.

You ask the trans community for help. They tell you to expect nothing. They tell you that hormone results vary (true, but people lean pessimistic). They tell you that its okay, you just need to break gender norms! You agree with that. You love your friends that break gender and play with it. And you want to apply it to yourself. But for some reason, its not you, no matter how hard you try.

You go to the doctor. They say that HRT may essentially do nothing. But hey, its worth it for the emotional health, right?

At this point, you've probably already accepted that you're a trans woman. You're out of the questioning phase. But slowly, as its beat into you more and more, you think of yourself more and more as trans and less and less as a woman. The idea that you could ever be a woman in the same way as other people shrinks away. And slowly, you start to try and make "woman" less a part of you.

By default, you look for special accomodations. Safety. Trans spaces. Trans clothing. Trans resources. You assume that other people perceive you as trans first and woman second.

But fucking. I don't know. Somewhere along the way, that breaks.

You realize that other women don't see you as an outsider.

You realize that people you casually interact with are treating you differently, in ways that match how they treat cis women.

You shop for clothes, and realize that women's cuts fit better than men's cuts.

Other women become more comfortable around you, and men become more distant.

In crueler ways, you realize that sometimes, when people hate you, or condescend, or ogle you, its not transphobia- its misogyny. You were prepared for the transphobia, and you knew about the sexism, but somewhere along the way you might've gotten it into your head that it would take a lot longer to get to this point.

At some point along the way, little by little, the world started treating you as a woman.

But here's where people get things wrong.

This isn't "passing", necessarily. At least not "passing" in the sense that people can no longer tell that you're trans.

Based on my experience in myself and others, I really do think that most transgender people spend long periods of their transition in a zone where people can easily tell that they're trans, but people treat them as women anyways. On some level, you're still gendered as feminine to other people. Transphobes deliberately try to "overwrite" this internal registration. But the only reason they care in the first place is because there is a dissonance between what they're perceiving you as (a woman) and the thing that their transphobia is telling them you "should" be.

Side note, but the most fascinating and horrificly toxic example of the above is some right wing think tank show that featured both Ben Shapiro and Blaire White (Conservative sellout trans woman desperately trying to be one of the "good ones"). Ben Shapiro, by default, gendered Blaire as a woman, and had to "manually correct" himself to misgender her and use masculine pronouns and terms.

But for the people who aren't that level of transphobic? They mostly just don't give a shit.

The recent cultural wave of transphobia is affecting how many people are overtly transphobic. But for a normal person, they'll see you as a woman first, and with "trans" as one of the many features that they associate with you.

All of this, of course, is not to say that you should abandon your transgender identity to try and "blend in" with cis women. Never forget your pride.

Why do I think this is important to say? Well, I think it would've been important to me pre-transition, or early transition. This is the nirvana people reach when they "don't care about passing". Early transition people often hear that and end up thinking.... well if I'm not gonna pass, then what's the fucking point? And that exact kind of mentality is perpetuated CONSTANTLY by good natured people "warning" you that you won't pass, but saying that "it doesn't matter". Because when you're dysphoric, how can it not matter?

Which is why seperating all of these experiences from "passing" is so important. Even if there are a few features out of place, that make you a bit more unique as a woman, you're still a woman to the world. And that's a beautiful thing, if you let it be.

Theres a general frustration that the clothes thing is tapping into but it's so much bigger than just clothes. One sec gotta copy over

#trans #transgender #trans woman

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radley-writes · 3 years ago

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heyo friend, I see you give some really valuable and smart advice so I was hoping you would maybe have some advice for me too! I've almost finished my first draft of a novel and I'm thinking I need to trim the manuscript, but I'm not sure where to begin with deciding which scenes should be cut, or shortened, or combined, because I think they all serve a purpose. do you have any tips?

Dearest nonagon - first off, MASSIVE CONGRATS on (almost) finishing that first draft!

If, like me, you are a horrendous overwriter, it probably does need a trim. I will soon be joining you with making big cuts, but whereas I am sure you will be delicately snipping away with secateurs and scalpels, I shall charge in wildly, swinging a chainsaw.

Which, coincidentally, leads us to my first tip...

1. BE NOT AFRAID...

You can't chop up your first draft if it hasn't been weaned. If you're still cradling your baby close to your chest, now isn't the time to start dissecting it.

So, put the baby down. Walk away. Ignore its cries. Go fawn over another baby for a while. Sever your emotional connection to your firstborn, so you can mutilate it at a later date without remorse.

(On a similar note, nobody ask me for parenting tips. Like, ever.)

The point of this rather morbid metaphor is that you need to destroy that intense emotional attachment to your work, before you can tear it apart and put it back together without fear. I usually let my first drafts sit for two weeks to a month - but I have a very short attention span, and a terrible memory! I know some folks let their manuscripts marinate a year before digging into developmental edits. There's no rush. You've got time.

In addition to this - a good way to be not afraid is to save an original, unedited first draft. Please, please don't start editing your only document. If you change your mind about cutting a darling, you want to be able to get it back!

Plus, it's a lovely exercise to compare the polished final product with the original turd of a draft!

2. LIST, LIST BITCH

Before I dive in and start editing, I like to look back at my original plan for the novel. I try and remember all the places I think I've gone astray, and decide whether I think these diversions add or detract from the story I want to tell.

I then replot my story, using both my memories of the first draft and the original plot to work out where I'm going next. This is where you can start thinking clinically about what to cut, before you even dig into your old manuscript.

Some potential questions to ask yourself:

What sort of story am I telling?

Should the narrative be fast-paced and action packed? Suspenseful and slow-building?

What are the integral core beats of the plot and character arcs?

Which scenes help to move the plot or character development forward?

You should be able to flag up any scenes that don't serve a purpose. That's the easiest way to cut bloat.

However, it sounds like you don’t have any obvious irrelevant scenes. So, there are two paths ahead of you...

3. LINE LEVEL

Not all first drafts need massive developmental cuts. If you've let it sit, if you've gone through your plot scene-by-scene, if you're sure that everything is guiding the reader towards your conclusion... You may well be right!

And if you're not, trust me, your betas will tell you ;)

I hereby give you permission to dispense with developmental cuts entirely. You might as well hop straight to cutting things down on a line-by-line level, deleting extraneous words and thinking critically about every single sentence. It's amazing what this can do for reducing a novel in size!

Alternatively...

4. GO APESHIT

If you're stuck for ideas on what to cut, but are convinced that something is wrong...

It's time to play big and brave.

Copy your draft to a new document and go fucking apeshit.

Turn your original concepts on their head. Give yourself license to divorce yourself entirely from your first draft, and think about how you'd replot the whole damn thing if you had a chance to start from scratch.

It's honestly pretty awesome what you can come up with, if you give yourself that freedom!

In my latest story, I've just hit the second draft phase, and I've realised a central character is actually entirely redundant. I want the story to focus on the main character's goal. This other character gave the main character a secondary goal - which isn't inherently a bad thing! But in this case, it muddied the waters and reduced tension in the lead-up to the final climactic battle.

It's taken me YEARS to get to the point where I can ask myself '...would this story be better without her?' and give an honest answer. She's one of my favourite characters of all time, but she's holding me back. It's time to say bye-bye.

I'd never have realised this, if I hadn’t plonked down one day with a massive sheet of paper and gone 'OKAY LET'S PRETEND I NEVER WROTE A FIRST DRAFT AND I'M STARTING OVER, WHAT WOULD I CHANGE'

I hope that helps!

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER: writing advice is subjective. You're welcome to try this out and see if it works for you, but please, nobody take this as The Biblical Truth on how to chop up a manuscript. Grow wild and free, my little sunflower seeds x

#writing advice #second draft #editing #writers on tumblr

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sukumen · 4 years ago

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CONGRATS ON 2.5k!!!!!! so so deserved!! also i don’t think i ever told u this but you were my first ever mutual on here and i just 💞💕💞💕 if it’s still open can i request bakugou + exes to lovers?

HOORAY FOR 2.5K --- AU/TROPE FICLETS: bakugou x exes to lovers.

notes: things we already knew about me: i overwrite. WOW! this got so long, but i had so much freaking fun with it, i can’t even tell you. it’s my first time writing bakugou and i hope i did him justice, especially with this trope that i love. thank you so so much for the support and love victoria - it’s an honor to have been your first mutual!!!! i hope you enjoy this~

summary: it was an odd match from the start, you and katsuki --- at least that’s what you tell him when you walk away after a year and a half. as you leave, you remind yourself of the probability your quirk had read the night of your first date - 73% chance of breaking up. not certain, sure, but high enough to help you through missing him: this was always going to happen. you tell yourself the same thing a year later when he becomes your protection detail at a support item expo that’s received a major threat: being in the same industry, you were always going to cross paths.

but, over the course of your week together, you start to realize that not everything has a rational explanation, a logical way in or out. not Katsuki, and certainly not the way he makes you feel.

quirk details: reader has a quirk that grants insight into the probability of an outcome occurring. ultimately, she can analyze a situation and determine within seconds how likely a specific outcome is if she was to move forward with all variables unchanged. she uses it primarily to design her support items, but can also use it in personal situations too. notably, she used it to work out how likely it was that she and bakugou were going to break up in a misguided attempt to deal with her feelings.

key limitations: scenarios have to be simple for her quirk to work - she can only determine if something will or won’t happen, not what will happen. the information she has will impact the accuracy of her prediction; this means that using it for personal situations - which often rely on the complicated emotions of other people - can be tricky. but, being emotional too, she doesn’t always remember that….

Snippet (2.7k, slight nsfw at the end):

Your flight ends too quickly for your liking, the walk to the arrivals gate even more so. Katsuki is waiting for you under a Starbucks sign as planned with arms folded over his chest while a second hero - a newcomer to the rankings - makes small talk beside him.

As you move in their direction, time follows in slow motion, each step rigid as you’re reminded of the day you’d walked the other way and out of his life. You’d been strong willed then and hadn’t turned once to see the look in his eyes as you went. But now, you can’t look anywhere but him, not even when the other hero notices you and waves for your attention.

He hasn’t changed much in the year apart. There’s a littering of scars that you’d noticed on the news and are seeing for the first time in person; but otherwise, Katsuki is the same man you’d always known, imposing but in a way that’s nearly comforting after his years in the public eye.

He seems to be watching you right back, but where your gaze is full of scrutiny, his is practically empty. Looking right through you as you draw near, which doesn’t change even when you still in front of them.

“Hi,” you squeak out, giving an awkward half-bow that you hope neither of them read too much into. The person beside Katsuki - hero name Phantom - introduces themselves right back, their bow deeper before they return to their rambling. They’re too caught up to note the way you and Katsuki don’t share names with each other and, with the moment lost, have gone to avoiding each other’s eyes altogether.

The tension lasts until the other support item maker - a man you recognize from the flight - emerges from baggage claim. The sight of him shifts the tides and you all start to gather your things for the hotel. Katsuki still hasn’t said a word to you, though if the others have noticed, it doesn’t show. You, of course, have and even as you trail behind him and Phantom to make small talk with the other designer, your eyes linger over his broad back.

Somehow, you’d expected more...anger when he saw you next.

Of course, this calm is pleasant, especially when you’re in public. But, there’s something about it that’s disappointing as well. Leaves you with an emptiness in your gut that you push past with animated conversation with your new companion.

[ … ]

“Who was she?” Your eyes screw shut before the words even make it out. How embarrassing --- all that talk to yourself about letting it go and you fold not even three steps into your shared suite. It’s none of your business who she is -- it’s none of your business what he does. But, your heart twists every time you think about the two of them in the back of the welcoming party. You’ve never seen him like that - at least not from an outsider’s lens - leaning into another person so closely and the curiosity comes tumbling out of you before you can stop it.

Katsuki is silent for a long while; long enough that you almost think he hadn’t heard you. But, the stiffness in his shoulders tells you aren’t so lucky and after a moment of you watching him untie his shoes, he finally turns to look at you. The glance is brief, but poignant, before his focus returns to himself --- this time, his tie. “I don’t think you’re in any place to be asking me that,” he grunts, tugging at the fabric until it loosens.

Embarrassment sears your throat, a sting you feel behind the eyes as you turn them towards the floor. It’s bad enough that you’d given into the urge to ask, but Katsuki being so straightforward is mortifying. He’s right, of course, but what makes it worse is that he’s not even trying to belittle you with that answer. He means it as simply and plainly as he’s said it: you’re in no position to ask him to tell you something like that.

Self-indulgence from you is rare and you find it’s for this very reason. When you step out of the safety of your logic, your equations, your reasoning, you always manage to trip yourself up. Even now, you want to push, misplaced jealousy gnashing its teeth at the back of your mind. But, his response has sobered you and you lock it and your curiosity up tight with a stiff apology and a goodnight.

Katsuki doesn’t look up again until your door closes behind you.

[ … ]

When the chaos has gone, and dust settled, a gang of thirty-something villains is in handcuffs and you’re banged up; ankle throbbing, but very much alive. You haven’t seen Katsuki since he’d stashed you away with the others with a promise to come back, but you’ve heard enough steady explosions to think he must be okay.

Still, you want proof. When the panic room door opens with a creak, his face isn’t the first you see, but it’s all you’re thinking about. Him, and getting back to him. You want to say it’s the last of your adrenaline, but even you know better. Know adrenaline from longing well, even with your limited experience and you let yourself admit something you’ve hidden for twelve months.

You miss him.

And even with the lengthy process that usually follows a villain attack, this will likely be the last full day you’ll have with him for the rest of your life.

The realization makes the panic room shrink to a quarter of the size, pain punching air out of your lungs so fast your vision swims. You need to go, you tell yourself, Katsuki’s promise lost in the static of your upset -- you can’t be here right now.

Your ankle smarts when you start putting real pressure on it, but the pain isn’t enough to stop you from pushing to the front of the line to leave. With each step past someone else, you hear sneers and you think you apologize, but when you’re so cotton-mouthed, you can’t really be sure.

Either way, it doesn’t slow you. The madness makes it easy to peel away from the crowd and though it takes you some time, you don’t stop until you’ve made it outside where you can breathe. For everything that’s happened in the last forty-five minutes, the island’s relatively unaffected, air as cool and breezy as every other night that week. The only real sign of the attack where you are are sirens and voices rising from the other side of the expo center - where you imagine Katsuki to be.

The thought - that he’s so close - should be comforting, but your despair does good work to keep it bittersweet; to remind you that it won’t be for much longer. It has to be selfish to be so upset when this had all been your choice to begin with; but for the first time since the breakup, you don’t try to explain away what you’re feeling. To dissect and rationalize so you can avoid it altogether.

For the first time since the breakup, you let it all in.

[ … ]

It takes Katsuki fifteen minutes to find you. Each one finds him more agitated than the last as he works himself up, searching every space by the now empty panic room to figure out where you’d gone.

At first, he’d assumed the best - that you’d been ushered with the rest of the group to the lobby waiting with police and paramedics. But, a quick skim of the crowd came up empty for your familiar face and panic set in not long after.

An admittedly tense conversation with the officer that had unsealed the room revealed that one civilian - a woman with a noticeable limp - had broken away from the group just as the doors opened. It’d done well to calm him, knowing someone had seen you after the fighting was over, but he’s hardly settled, if the way he stomps through the floor is anything to go by. “She never fucking listens,” he growls to no one in particular, eyes narrowed in razor sharp focus.

He’s worked up, above all, by his worry. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t vaguely wounded by the fact you hadn’t let him come back like promised. It draws him back, despite his best efforts, to the day you left --- the day you told him in no uncertain terms that you’d always expected one of you to leave, what with that know-it-all quirk of yours.

He’d felt then as he does now: utterly untrusted. Like he’s behind without even knowing there’s a race --- like he’s lost without any hope to catch up. He doesn’t like it, feeling that way again, and it gets him so unnerved that he starts to revert to old habits. Shoulders bowed, hands stuffed into his pockets, and, notably, taking a foot to every door that could stand between him and wherever the hell you’ve disappeared to.

When he finds you, finally, behind the fourth, it’s with a kick so firm it turns your sob into a strangled squeak.

[ ... ]

“I thought I told you to stay put---” There’s venom in Katsuki’s voice, but a sort you know well. Worried more than enraged, even if his expressive face doesn’t show it. You move to answer, but he steps in before you can, eyes locked eerily on your face. “...Why the hell are you crying?” You reach up for your wet cheeks, cursing internally; you’d hoped to be well through this before you faced him again so the question catches you off guard. Long enough that Katsuki can close the distance and kneel at your feet, pulling your fingers away from your face so he can inspect it. “You gonna say something or what? Did someone hurt you?”

You can tell he’s biting his tongue, tempering his rage until he’s sure there’s something to rage about. But even that muted anger can be dangerous and you’re quick to shake your head, hands coming up again to wipe your face. “No! No, it’s...just my ankle. From before, when we were running.”

Relief spreads in Katsuki’s face hearing that, like he’s grateful that that’s all it is. But, his frown stays put, deepening some when he reaches down for your ankle and watches your expression sour from the touch. “Hm. Doesn’t seem broken or anything.” He turns thoughtfully towards the building behind him, stilling at the sounds rising from the busy lobby. You try to glean purpose from his face, but have to wait until he speaks up again to work out what he’s doing. “‘S gonna take ages for them to see you right now. I can wrap your ankle up at the hotel and take you in for a check up before tomorrow’s flight.”

You nod wordlessly, grateful for the chance to avoid anyone else for the night.

[ … ]

The quiet in your suite as Katsuki carries you in is a blessing.

You hadn’t realized how badly overwhelmed you were until you’d been alone on the balcony, so even just a few minutes going through the expo center was too much. Katsuki had picked up on it and hesitated very little in hoisting you up so you could move quickly through the crowd and rubble.

You’d insisted he didn’t need to do it at all, let alone again in the hotel; but just one glance at you down the slope of his nose had silenced you.

The first thing he does when the door shuts behind you is set you down on the couch, warning you to stay still with a look alone. When you’re settled, he disappears into his room before emerging with an impressively stocked first aid kit. And for the second time that night, he’s on his knees for you, taking your swollen ankle in hand to inspect it more closely.

With so much happening earlier, his touch on the balcony was easy to drown out. Now, there’s nowhere to focus but him and the press from his palm as it cups your bare skin. He runs a thumb over scratches you hadn’t noticed, the way he traces the lines almost pensive, before his attention turns to the kit beside him.

You, all the while, are stock still, frozen from the heat of his touch. It’s nothing compared to his mouth or the weight of his full body, but after so many months apart, it bowls you over all the same.

You don’t notice you’re crying again until he says something.

“You’re not crying over the ankle,” he says simply, though his touch softens just in case as he brings it into his lap with some bandage wrap.

You don’t know what it is, but something in the way he asks compels your honesty and you nod, feeling pathetic as you sniffle and look down at your hands.

“You gonna tell me what’s really going on then?”

You swallow thickly, words already threatening to bubble up like they had the night of the welcoming party. “I...I don’t think I can.” Or should, rather - you don’t need to use your quirk to know that nothing good could come out of this.

But, Katsuki is firm, shaking his head as he starts to wind the first layer of bandage carefully around your ankle. “Well, I’m sayin’ you can. So, don’t go crying by yourself for some dumb reason like that. If you don’t want to, you don’t want to. But if you do, you can.”

He says it like it’s simple. Like it’s a given. And beside your better judgment, you lean into that open assuredness. You’d always loved it about him, after all --- the way he so firmly believes that nothing could stop him - or anyone - if he didn’t let it. For some people, it was self-importance, but nights holding him after good and bad days had taught you otherwise -- it was bravery.

Bakugou Katsuki was the bravest man you’d ever known. A blaze that shone so bright on its own that you felt out of place beside him -- like you couldn’t give him what he needed -- and decided for you both that that meant you didn’t have a chance.

But, in the quiet of your suite, with Katsuki sitting comfortably at your feet, you decide that maybe he’s rubbed off on you some. That maybe, in your time alone, you’ve become a lot braver than you realized.

So, you suck in a deep breath, look him square in the eye, and tell him the truth.

“I miss you, Katsuki.”

[ … ]

He holds your hands to the mattress so tight they hurt, but the ache is welcome. You know him well, even now, and can read between the lines of your intertwined fingers.

He’d missed you too.

All these days of looking through you, past you had been intentional to protect himself, but here, now, he’s completely laid bare. Mouth kiss swollen and eyes lined with tears he’ll wave off later, Katsuki is spilling out every ounce of love he’d held back the day you told him you’d always planned to leave.

You meet him halfway with an arch off the bed to chase his kisses and tell him that you love him --- and you’re sorry --- between each one.

The weight of his body is as precious as you remember and the heat of your tangled limbs lulls you into a daze that pulls your eyes shut.

Katsuki doesn’t notice at first as he’s dragging his mouth over your bare neck, but when he does, he’s quickly displeased. “Look at me,” he hisses, fingers tightening between yours. Your eyes open heavily and it takes you a moment to find his gaze in the darkness. But, once you’re back, he presses his forehead to yours and slowly, carefully presses forward until his cock’s stretched you to the hilt.

The fill feels like coming home.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha fanfic #hooray for 2.5k tag.#saintdabi

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presumenothing · 3 years ago

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first: do no harm

(AO3)

Dr. Mensah’s attention zeroed in on me like a well-tuned surgery bot arm. “You have medical training.”

I was going to deny the hell out of that. I really was.

And then I said: “Not recently,” instead of no or even more accurately I frankly don’t think the company’s education modules count as training by your standards. (As far as I was concerned, the only thing worse than those modules was the one on breaking bad news, but what did I know. Maybe humans actually felt comforted by those tactics they described.) (No, I didn’t think that was likely, either.)

Which reminded me of a necessary addition. “The company won’t cover liabilities related to any non-security tasks you assign me to, if that’s what you’re intending.”

Mensah made a sound that was both grim and viciously annoyed at once, which I immediately saved for further analysis and replication. “Then we’ll just have to not make any mistakes, won’t we?”

–

I hadn’t exactly been thrilled with getting assigned to this mission. Not that mining installations were much of a walk in the park, but this was just asking to turn up memories that were better off buried (preferably forever) in my organic parts.

I don’t usually pay attention to mission briefs, as you may have noticed, and I wouldn’t have this time either except that my half-assed scan turned up the fact that the team weren’t science-doctors on a survey like I’d initially assumed, but medical-doctors. On a medical mission.

Of course they were.

(I wanted to say that someone had allocated me to this on purpose, but realistically speaking the company didn’t give enough of a shit, and the universe disliked me enough that this could totally be pure chance.)

Considering all that, the mission so far had been… much less worse than it could’ve been. Though the bar for that was admittedly very, very low. Possibly somewhere in the negatives.

Anyway. Up until the whole thing with Bharadwaj and Volescu getting almost-but-not-eaten, the task of making sure no one died had mostly been the clients’ job for once, which was a nice change since they were actually competent at it.

I still didn’t care enough to read their background info, but it was pretty clear just from observing that these doctors had experience with working in less-than-great conditions, even if Ratthi did sometimes sigh wistfully about equipment they couldn’t have in field hospitals. It meant that my job had pretty much amounted to patrolling, lurking visibly around the supplies storage in case anyone got ideas about that, and helping to fetch various medical items when I happened to be there and it wasn’t Gurathin asking.

It wasn’t terrible. I’d even got some media-watching time in.

(There might have been the vague thought that things could’ve gone much better if I’d been deployed with a team like this instead of Corporation Rim fuckery that literally bled payment from patients, but part of the reason medical-use constructs had been developed in the first place was so that hospitals could draw up forty-hour shifts and other assorted fun without worrying about doctor and surgeon unions, which told you everything you needed to know about our existence.

Also, the thought was inherently depressing and I already had enough of that in my head, thank you very much.)

The contract was more than halfway through. All I had needed to do to avoid awkward questions was continue making sure no one noticed that I was weirdly well-versed in all this, which wasn’t difficult since they only seemed to have theoretical knowledge about SecUnits at best.

Then the fauna happened, and poof went my cover.

Now all of PresAux knew I was – whatever the hell you called a catastrophically failed MedUnit who got turned loose onto security, because at least if I screwed up here the press wouldn’t be as bad. And that wasn’t even getting into the hacked governor module.

Even constructs didn’t have a term for all that.

–

Of course, none of that stopped this from being a Very Bad Idea. Even if apparently no one except Gurathin (ugh) seemed to agree.

“I’m a SecUnit, Dr. Mensah. I scare people. Patients are harder to assess when they’re running away.” I thought basic logistics might work here.

“You had better bedside manner with Bharadwaj and Volescu than many doctors I’ve seen. Human ones, might I add, and not actively injured themselves at the time.” Mensah’s tone was brisk as her pace – which wasn’t difficult to keep up with either, given my vertical advantage, but impressive nonetheless. “And no one wants to be around Pin-Lee when she’s holding a scalpel. That’s what the sedation is for.”

It’s because SecUnit hasn’t seen her in court yet. Trust me, it’s much scarier, Ratthi chimed in over the feed, with the text signifier for “amusement” but not “joke”.

Pin-Lee just smiled.

It was terrifying. I wasn’t even looking directly at her.

“I don’t have a valid license.” That’d been a part of the legal fallout from the disaster on RaviHyral, though no one had actually bothered with adding malpractice charges or barring me from ever doing medicine again. (Just another side effect of being considered as equipment – I doubted the company would’ve even secured licenses for constructs if not for their paranoia about covering their asses on all fronts.)

But it was a last resort argument, and I knew it.

Mensah knew it, too. “There’s special dispensations for that, especially under the current circumstances, as long as a fully-licensed doctor is in the vicinity at all times. It’s not like any of us can actually get out of each other’s hair in this base anyway.”

Mensah had stopped in a less-chaotic corner and turned to me, not that she could see anything behind the faceplate. I fixed my gaze a generous distance to the left and let my drones do the looking.

“I’m not going to make you agree. You perform a valuable function as our security – far more than I had initially expected, to be honest, and we would all be grateful if you kept doing that. But with Bharadwaj down for the count and Volescu still recovering, we could do with the help.” Her expression was still steady as ever, even though she probably knew better than I did the risks of continuing to operate shorthanded like this. “It’s your decision, SecUnit.”

Right, just the very thing I didn’t need to hear.

I kept most of my sigh internal. “Triage and first-aid only, between patrols. No procedures, and I won’t be responsible if any patients freak out.”

Mensah nodded. “Of course. Gurathin’s on receiving duty today, how about you work out a roster with him?”

I knew it. This was a bad idea.

–––––

You’d be my guardian.

Yes. The education opportunities – most of us were trained on Preservation, if you’re interested in learning and getting your license properly this time. Or not. You can do anything you want.

–––––

ART barged its way into my feed. You’re exhibiting a mildly elevated temperature and respiration rate. Though it could of course merely be a sign of inferior processors rather than emotional distress.

Do you talk to your clients like that?

Do you? ART retorted right back, but obligingly brought up the documentation for its MedSystem before I finished the query for it.

I ignored ART’s attention (with some difficulty) as I flicked quickly through the top few files, taking in the glaring disparities from my existing data. The notable lack of suggesting costly procedures that no-one actually needed, for starters. I’m assuming some of these are your improvements on standard procedure?

I am the cutting edge of medical research, ART proclaimed. You couldn’t accuse it of humility if you tried.

I still wasn’t sure what I wanted, and I still didn’t want anyone to decide it for me. But moving towards the one thing I did want (at least in the short term) had ended up with me running into what was very possibly the most advanced and opinionated diagnosis-treatment AI currently in existence, because that was just the kind of luck I had.

I didn’t have a medium-duty surgical suite in my arms anymore, since that was the entire point of modular Unit construction, but neither did Mensah.

And I didn’t think I wanted to stop doing security, anyway, since it turned out I might not be completely terrible at it; having actual medical knowledge that was MedSystem-malfunction-proof couldn’t hurt.

Plus, overwriting those shitty education modules seemed like a pretty great fuck-you to the company. I was always interested in that.

I tagged some of the more emergency-related files, then added a bunch of the weirder injuries I’d seen on contracts, and prodded ART. Tell me about these?

#the murderbot diaries #murderbot #murderbot fic #tmbd #fanfiction #mine #long post #me staring at the wordcount in disbelief: okay then #????

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bangtanblurbs · 3 years ago

Text

autumn leaves

song: autumn leaves by BTS

first experience: my first listen of autumn leaves was when HYYH pt. 2 released. thanksgiving had just ended -- it was 2015. i was well into my fourth year of undergraduate studies and going through both a rough patch in some respects but also in others -- hitting my stride. i remember my first listen through of HYYH pt. 2 was in my tiny dorm room, perched on my bed, avoiding the responsibility of studying for my final exams. autumn leaves followed skit in the tracklisting, and before skit came baepsae. talk about whiplash... my emotions were all over the place. immediately i was taken by the unique backbeat and the beautiful blend of devastating vocals with emotional raps. for me, autumn leaves was immediately a favorite of mine from the album -- following closely behind butterfly. i can confidently say today though that the song is one of my top ten bangtan songs of all time. something about the sound, the lyrics, and the emotions i can hear in their voices makes it one of the most powerful rap ballads in the bangtan repertoire. i can remember distinctly i came to this revelation around christmas of 2015 as i continued to loop HYYH pt. 2 and really feel each beat and sound within the individual tracks.

at this time i was going through a period of great change in my life - and autumn leaves is the perfect song for change. it’s a song about losing a love but also about feeling as if you are losing a piece of yourself. there are many ways to interpret the song outside of just being another sad love song -- that is something that struck me. the lyrics speak to several facets of what happens when you give pieces of yourself to others, or when you reach crossroads in your life. finding this song at this particular moment in my life was like finding energy and light at a time of extreme darkness. it was healing. soothing.

feelings: i have too many. as always. autumn leaves is special to me because when i listen to it i’m reminded of both the place i was in when the sound found me, but also more recent development in my life that continue to relate to the song. when i first heard autumn leaves, i’d recently ended a relationship i’d been far too invested in despite knowing it was going to be a dead end - for about three years. i felt like i was at a point in my life where i needed to figure out who the hell i was without the one i’d loved. it’s funny though - i was happy to be free of that relationship, to be free of him, the pressures he’d put upon me. what do dead leaves mean if not a new spring right around the corner? perhaps i was feeling lost, but in my mind it was only temporary -- the dead must fall away to bring forward the spring.

that being said, i did mourn. not in the way you might think, but in the way that one mourns for lost time, lost identity. so often we, as women, give up our identities when we are in relationships. we allow others to define us in terms of those that we are in relationships with. i’ve realized this now that i’m older -- now that i’m more at peace with my bisexuality -- the notion that our patriarchal society defines us in terms of the men within our lives rather than our own talents and identities. this particular blog isn’t a space for my feelings on that topic though -- what i will say is that autumn leaves comforted me. perhaps i felt that i was at a point where my leaves were dying -- but does that mean the tree is dead? absolutely not. spring would come. my life would be reborn with a new focus taking over.

this being said -- i’ve always been one of those people that holds onto the past. i always wanted to be solid, non-changing, someone with convictions that they carried along from life. i think this stems from experiencing the death of a close friend while i was very young. i cherished the memories associated with her to the point where i didn’t want to lose the person i was when i knew her. so that’s always complicated change for me -- made the moments where the last leaves fell from the autumn trees that much harder. sure, spring was on its way, but what did that mean? would i lose the memories and the moments when my leaves where at their brilliance the previous season? or would i still carry those with me? what if i needed to correct course and completely rewrite who i was over the past -- would that mean losing who i was when i was loved by those i valued in the past? of course not -- but for some reason the more emotional sides of me didn’t see things in such a fluid way. lost was more profound when i was younger because it was also accompanied with these fears over the loss of my identity.

as i’ve gotten older i’ve realized that identity can have staying power whilst also being something that is fluid. transmuting something doesn’t mean destroying or overwriting it. it means building upon the base and modifying it so that things are more brilliant. the me that existed before and during my long-term relationship was the same me i’d carry into the future, but with many more improvements for my own wellbeing and ability to express myself. for me, autumn leaves is just that. whilst on the surface it may convey the emotions of a breakup -- it also simply conveys the feelings that we get when we progress from one period of life to another. we leave parts of ourselves behind in order to improve. does that mean we are fundamentally changed? absolutely not. it means that we have learned from the past -- that we have made progress. in the same way that trees grow and change over the years. perhaps they look differently (taller, greener in hue? more branches?) but they still provide us with lushness and shade.

personal connection: perhaps i’ve jumped ahead... i’ve already delved into this in the feelings section. that being said... i hope that my story can bring comfort to someone else. or perhaps help you all think about the ways in which bangtan songs can promote healing in your own lives.

since my initial experience with the song i’ve had many other moments where i’ve turned to autumn leaves for comfort. i didn’t just leave it in the past -- it’s come with me as i’ve gotten older and moved into new spaces in my life. particularly i quite literally moved and started a huge new chapter in my life. and on this, autumn leaves has been a song i frequently find myself searching for. there’s a line in the song that resonates with me -- it’s in the bridge: “i hold on to these faded memories / is this greed? / i try to look back on these lost seasons / i try to turn back”

initially i’d been excited for my big move from atlanta to washington dc. i thought it’d be the moment where i finally showed people back home that i wasn’t a failure, that all the pride i’d held in myself and my intellectual accomplishments was valid... but partnered with that came the intensive homesickness, the feeling of being an alien. i wasn’t really welcome here in dc. i still don’t feel welcome, but that’s a story for another day - another song. the reality is though, i moved just as the seasons turned to fall. it felt like my old life was falling away, i was bidding adieu my old life -- the community that had raised me since i was eighteen -- it was all gone. i was scared, terrified my friends wouldn’t keep in touch, afraid i’d have to change who i was to experience success (mask my accent, dye my hair, use the language of the elites)... while it’s not a breakup in the way the autumn leaves reads, i felt like i was having to plead with myself not to let go of who i was just for the sake of being accepted here, or for the sake of making my day to day life easier. the beat of the song brought me comfort as i walked to school, where i received the fake smiles of professors and classmates... i pleaded with myself -- to never let the parts of me that had gotten me to where i was fall away... to always let those dead leaves be the fertilizer for who i was becoming, for the me that would deliver myself closer to my dreams.

even now -- i listen to autumn leaves and think about what i’m going to carry forward as the seasons change and we begin to work our way into a new normal in this pandemic. what parts of me will remain? what relationships will i keep? what *should* fall away, and what will i beg to keep around rather it’s healthy or not? i’m not sure. but closing my eyes and listening to the steady sound of autumn leaves brings me nothing but comfort.

song breakdown

musically: autumn leaves is one of the most iconic songs from the HYYH era. the beat is iconic, the mix of vocal line and rap line from verse to chorus is completely seamless, it’s almost like a ballad rap (so iconic of the HYYH era, with songs like love is not over). the asian style beats, and synth... the sounds of the song are flawless from start to finish. the underlying beat of the song is so smooth, it feels almost like constant crashing waves, the ebb and flow of the beat with a few accents to highlight the emotional pick-ups of the verses.

now -- it was controversial at the time -- many claim that autumn leaves samples beats from deadroses by blackbear. rather that’s true or not, i don’t know. but i find that listening to both songs back to back, they’re speaking to a lot of similar themes but with their own distinct sound and messages. there’s something about the genius of the back beat mixed with the emotionally charged rapping that sets autumn leaves apart -- also the use of vocal line is completely distinct and adds to the emotion in the sound.

vocally: i don’t have as much to say about the vocals in this song. they’re beautiful, with vocal providing honey belts throughout the choruses, which sound more like a repeated bridge. we also see the slower, more emotionally accented rap style from each of rapline. the integration of the vocals and rap are iconically HYYH and BTS. we see the raps pick up, and slow down providing for pre-choruses to build into the beautiful vocal ballad ranges.

autumn leaves performed live -- it’s something incredible. something i’m thankful i was able to experience. bangtan obviously never disappoint, but you can really hear the emotions in their voice with autumn leaves. the perfect adlibs, the changing rap paces, the roughness of rapline’s lower registers... it delivers the sadder themes of the song perfectly.

lyrically: time for a DEEP dive yet again. autumn leaves is about change, the loss of a love. of course meanings can be layered, it can be about change, but on the very surface its a song about loss of love because of changes over time.

jin and jungkook start out the song beautifully. the lyrics lead in directly addressing the theme: “fall like those dry leaves / just falling without strength, my love.” indicating that the song is like a letter - it’s a message to a love. the speaker is comparing their situation to a dead leaf, useless... time has run out... time to leave and fade away... something new to come a replace. falling without strength, it seems as if the speaker is saying they’ve got no more fight in them anymore, they’ve given up and realized continuing the fight is futile. it’s time to just let everything fall away, fade into black. “your heart just goes far away / i can’t catch you / i can’t catch you anymore, anymore / i can’t hold onto you, yeah” as much as the speaker would like to hold onto the moment they are in, hold onto the person they’re with... they can’t anymore. the other person is too far away. time has led to them drifting further apart, their relationship falling away like a dead leaf.

yoongi starts off the first rap, leading in with heavy emotions and continuing the story, and theme of a tree moving into fall. “those fallen leaves that look so insecure / seem like they’re looking at us.” the leaves have already fallen off the tree now, they’re dead on the ground -- peering back up at the speaker and their partner. i interpret this as the leaves are looking back at something they used to be a part of, something familiar to them, just as leaves are a part of our lives, trees spectating our lives as we live. these leaves were a part of their lives -- and now they’re gone, a piece is dead now. “if i touch your hand, even if it’s all at once / it seems like it’ll all become crumbs” -- this line illustrates again the analogy that the leaves are like the speaker’s significant other, someone that might just crumble away like it was never even there before, like a dream, it’s that distant. “i only looked / with the autumn wind” the seasons have changed, it’s that time, it’s been that time, and now the wind is a force that finally pushing the leaf off the tree, finally pushing the relationship or moment of life to end. “your words and expressions that become cold at some point / i can see that our relationship is fading / an empty relationship like the autumn sky” this line directly refers to the relationship like the seasons -- there was a spring, beautiful and blooming, love blossomed. and in summer it burned. but as time went on, the clouds went away and the rain stopped (the autumn sky doesn’t bring the spring showers to nurture the relationship anymore) and the fire consumed everything, burning it out and leaving nothing. “an ambiguous difference compared to before / today of all days, the much quieter night” there’s nothing left -- there no more crackle of the fire burning, no more love. it’s empty, and gone. but nobody knew when it became this way or why, it just did. “one lead left clinging to a branch / it’s shattering, i see the end.” there’s something hanging on -- perhaps it’s just the memory -- perhaps it’s just the part of them that is afraid of change, that wishes they could stay in the warmth. but even so, it’s beginning to crumble, it’s beginning the process to fall away. “dead leaves becoming dried / the silence inside your aloof heart / please don’t leave me / please don’t leave me, crumbling dead leaves” from dead to dried, the emphasis is made that at some point things have moved past ending or that they have been done for quite some time and for them to now also be dried. that being said they’re dried, not gone, the memories exist the emotions have left their place. someday the marks of this relationship will impact and provide the basis for another with someone else -- for better or worse.

then, we reach the bridge-like chorus. it’s simple in lyrics despite emotion packed in tone. “i want the you that meets my eyes / i want the you that wants me again” this line indicates that the partner in this situation has walked away and had decided not to even acknowledge the speaker. to pretend they don’t exist, to remove them from their life -- perhaps to not even keep them as a memory. “please don’t leave me / please don’t fall / never never fall / don’t go far away” the speaker begins to beg, holding onto the last few minutes of whatever they believe is left of the relationship. the begging of “don’t fall” is at odds with the previous verse about a leaf already fallen -- perhaps the chorus is coming from a more desperate state, or a moment before the inevitable happened (the season changed, the leaves fell).

the post chorus brings in jin and continues with the same lament - the same desperate begging. “baby you, girl i can’t let you go / baby you, girl i can’t give up on you” the speaker is determined to hold onto the moment before the final fall. they are unwilling to let it all go -- hanging on to the last moments but also to the memories it seems. “like those falling dry leaves / this love, like dry leaves / never never fall / it’s fading.” at this point the chorus has progressed to where the leaves are fading and falling -- morphing into something that is no longer a leaf anymore. what is the speaker holding onto any more? just as memories too fade -- is there anything even left?

the next verse brings in namjoon, it plays off of the themes and tones in yoongi’s verse. it begins with the leaves already having fallen. there’s no more grasping onto what was, it’s much more about moving on and the ways the memory frames our ability to go forward. “like all the dry leaves fall / like all the things i thought would last forever are leaving / you are my fifth season” the speaker couldn’t imagine this happening -- a fifth season, there is no such thing. the leaves have fallen, despite him never imagining that it would occur, he’s dumbstruck. there’s a level of naivety here -- speaking to the things they thought would last forever -- which harkens back to the entire HYYH era theme. youth. learning growth. namjoon is speaking to new steps in life happening after finding out that what was familiar and comfortable is gone, and will not return as he is stepping into a fifth season and uncharted territory. “even if i try to see you, i can’t look / you’re still green to me / even if the heart doesn’t move, it moves by itself / lingering feelings hung out piece by piece like laundry” namjoon is charging here that he’s placing more emphasis on the past and the memories he holds rather than wanting to confront the reality that the other person has changed. they’re still green - young, fresh, healthy... he can’t help but still be in love because he cannot confront the fact that the other person has in fact changed. and at the same time all of this change and loss has made him raw, he cannot conceal his feelings even when doing mundane day to day things... his emotions hung out for all to see. “only crimson memories fall / from above me / even if my branch doesn’t shake / they constantly fall” the colors have changed from green to crimson, he is forgetting the hard times -- the memories that are rotten. the other memories, even if he keeps trying to hang onto them, they’re also going - being tainted by the dark and unhappy reality of things begin done. “right, my love must fall / in order to rise” he realizes, he need to cut the baggage, cut his false belief that things are still good, so that he can start a new season and try again. embrace his youth once again and heal. “even when you’re near, my two eyes / are far away, it’s happening / i’m being thrown away like this / inside my memories, i become young again” he emphasizes again that he cannot confront the reality of loss of this other person but realizes that it’s completely out of his control - he is the one being thrown. but he knows he can retreat to whatever space he needs to in order to cope or heal, he can hide inside his youth in his mind. he can stay there until he heals and can emerge once again.

the chorus the repeats again, but this time it moves into the beautifully delivered bridge by taehyung. he begins with his low and smooth range “why can’t i give up on you yet / i hold on to these faded memories” which calls directly to namjoon’s verse. the seasons are changing, but he cannot let go of the past. things are fading but they remain his refuge. “is this greed? / i try to look back on these lost seasons / i try to turn back” he begins to realize that there’s an element to these emotions that might be toxic, that he wants but he knows he cannot have what he wants, or that he wants too much. he wishes he could retreat back to the summer, or the spring. turn back time and hide in those brighter moments.

the final verse is beautifully delivered with hoseok’s unique style. he offers an unexpected conclusion to the hopelessness of yoongi’s verse and the denial and dismissal in namjoon’s. “burn them brightly, woosh / it was all beautiful, right, our path / but they’ve all faded” hoseok remembers fondly the memories, reflects positively on the way that things had been going... but he recognizes that that path exists no more -- those leaves are dead and gone. he uses the word “burn” which is often what happens with dead leaves, they’re burning brightly those memories -- like they’re seared into his mind and heart. they’ll never leave his essence. “dry leaves come down like tears / the wind blows and everything grows apart all day” this line beautifully captures the mourning process and the confusion that follows -- the learning to unlearn and untangle your life from another person’s. to move away from something that was so permanent in your life and mind. “the rain is falling and you’re shattering / until the very last leaf, you you you” the weather references in this verse are fitting for the theme of seasons but they also take control away from the speaker - make reference to the fact that even as they speaker would like to, he cannot control his emotions just like he cannot control the situation and relationship coming to an end. the very last leaf -- he tried to hold on, he waited till the end, but finally the hope is gone.

the chorus repeats with some additional lines bracketing it by taehyung. ultimately the song leaves us with a feeling of being unsettled as things came to an ended. time passed by and things changed -- and end was inevitable. memories are what is left to hold onto. seasons change, just like we grow up or change. things in our lives will run their course, especially relationships. we learn from them, and even if we don’t want them to -- they leave scars... no matter how much we plead. but the reality is, we can retreat to whatever place in our mind or memory that we need to in order to repair ourselves to try again.

performance: the main video that is available online for autumn leaves is a performance from HYYH on tour. i cannot pinpoint the location of the filming, but it is the same as it was when i saw BTS live in 2016 in macau for HYYH the epilogue on tour. you can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrM53Y9hHV0&ab_channel=lestwins1524

the performance is very much understated but beautiful. vocals and raps are delivered with more emotion than was captured in the recorded version. members do not perform any choreographed dances, but lights and graphics highlight each member as they come into focus to deliver their portion of the song. it’s beautiful and it’s just what was needed to portray the emotion and depth of the themes in autumn leaves.

in my own personal experience, seeing this song performed live was incredibly profound. the entire arena was silent. all eyes on bangtan and listening for each of the incredibly raw verses to be peformed. the crisp emotion laden in the vocal line choruses. the song is beautiful. it’s somber and mature. it exemplifies the drama of the HYYH era -- with lyrical and performance genius that is unparalleled. i’ve uploaded to this post my horrible video but i hope you enjoy ~~

tl;dr: autumn leaves might seem like another breakup song, but there’s more to it. it beautifully emphasizes the power of memory, time passage, and the desire to hold onto past versions of themselves. which for many listeners is far more profound than just a breakup -- there’s so many times when we need to leave behind moments in our lives, friends, family members... and while we want to hold onto something that is familiar, we can’t. they’re leaving, we are moving on... seasons come and go no matter how much we wish they’d just stay constant. dead leaves fall away, even when we’d wish the summer and spring would stay, they can’t. life is cyclical in nature. which harkens us back to the themes in spring day as well. the sun will always come out, the seasons will change... but we have to confront the fact that sometimes we will experience pain, loss, and change.

#bangtan #bts #lyrics #analysis #army #autumn leaves #bts army #hyyh #most beautiful part of life

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tired0artist · 4 years ago

Text

sing to me (part one)

paring: female!V x Johnny Silverhand

summary: a street kid V falls in love with SAMURAI music and idolises Johnny Silverhand. years later she finally understands the saying “never meet your idols”

warnings: angst and fluff, Johnny being a dick as always, arguments, Jackie and V are like siblings, Mama Wells is the best, grief, V plays the guitar, more/different warnings in the future parts

note: I’m describing my V, but you can imagine her however you want tho

•SAMURAI fan V (street kid)•

Ever since she heard “Never Fade Away” playing on some radio on the streets, she fell in love with it.

She was around 13 and world was shitty, she was angry at the corpos and other rich bastards (her rebellious years really).

So finding out that basically the whole SAMURAI was fucking the corpos and singing about it? Also that Johnny Silverhand bombed Arasaka? Fucking legendary.

One of the happiest days of her life.

V started scavenging for their old records, t-shirts and shit like that. And her first payment for stealing some shard from some corpo fuck, went for a new record player.

When she hit 17, V snuck into some fancy bar to see Kerry Eurodyne playing. Of course he was playing some of his own songs, but couple of SAMURAI ones were there.

Another great day in her life.

Turning 21 instead of going drinking or something like that. V found herself at a music store, buying her first guitar.

For a year she was teaching herself how to play. To the point where her fingertips started scaring, from all the times she played until she bleed.

At 22 she played at some bar, earning some descent money. And a broken nose from some fuck who dared to insult her playing.

He of course looked far worse than she did.

That was when she met Jackie, while trying to steal a car.

Apparently getting your shit beaten out of you by cops, was a great start of a friendship.

Greatest day in her life.

She stopped sleeping in an old warehouse and moved in with Jackie, to his mama’s basement.

V felt the happiest there, the warmth and freedom of her new home. That’s how she wrote her first song.

“You should be a musician, you’re really talented” said Mama Wells as she came upon V humming and playing out on the balcony, Jackie sitting next to her with a beer.

V laughed but didn’t stop playing “Yeah sure”

“Mama is right! You could be a star chica” Jackie said, being as optics always.

“You could play at El Coyote Cojo during the weekends” Mama Wells said with a smile.

“I don’t know, the last time I played at a bar it ended up in a fight” V said, chewing on her lip.

“Chica... I’ll be your bodyguard. I’ll even wear a suit!” said Jackie with a grin.

V laughed “I sure would like to see that”

“So, I’m going to tell Pepe to set everything up for you” said Mama Wells with a smile “Now come on ninõs, dinner is ready”

And so for three years, V was regularly playing at Mama Wells’ bar.

Some people even got inside just to listen to her play and sometimes sing whenever she felt like using her words to channel even more emotions through her music.

And then came the worst couple of days of her life.

“Dexter Deshawn!!! Can you believe it V?! We could finally be on top!” said Jackie on their way to Afterlife.

V smiled at her friend, as her heart screamed that it wasn’t what she wanted anymore. When she met Jackie she wanted to the best of the best.

But after so many years with music? She longed to play. Even to get her own album someday!

And yet she bit her tongue, buried her dreams thinking.

I’ll help Jackie get on top and then I’ll take care of my own dreams.

But it didn’t happen.

Jackie died along with V’s musical soul, right in that Delamain. As the rain poured against the windows, creating an off rhythm that reminded her of her stuttering and crushed heart.

Next thing she knows after that, is that she died.

Then woke up.

Got saved by Takemura.

Nearly died again.

And once again woke up, this time at Vik’s.

Panic was clawing at her chest as she remembered hazily her hallucinations, tears gathered in her eyes as she didn’t know what was happening to her.

“These hallucinations... explain them to me”

“I-I’m on stage... but not at El Coyote... I don’t recognise it. T-The music is loud and aggressive... familiar in a way but I can’t remember it clearly anymore... lights are shining on my face as I scream to the crowd. I-I’m full of rage and no matter how much I’ll scream... it won’t go away...”

She then chuckled humourlessly “And then... just don’t laugh at me. I bombed the Arasaka tower...”

“Nothing there to laugh about, kid...” Vik said, his eyes showing sadness.

“The worst part is that... I can still feel this rage. And some... frustration? Irritation? But I-I don’t know why. I don’t feel that way? Then why?”

Vik sat down, saying “These hallucinations.. they were memories. There’s a personality construct on that shard. Dreams you had, were from his past”

“So you’re saying that... I was experiencing another psyche’s memories? How’s that even possible?” V asked, the alien irritation in her head growing.

“You two are connected in a way that I can’t make head or tail out of”

“Two? Me and who Vik? Who’s in my head?” she asked, anxiety growing in her chest.

“Johnny Silverhand. A terrorist. A real talk of the town back in my days”

V’s breath got stuck in her throat as she said “You’re saying... that there’s a dead rockerboy in my head. The same one who played with SAMURAI?”

Victor just nodded, and the fear inside her grew.

But that wasn’t even the worst part yet.

“He’s overwriting your consciousness. You don’t have much time left kid... few weeks tops”

V cried with fear begging Victor to help her, but there’s nothing he could do.

Nothing anyone could do.

The same night she met him. The guy that she admired as a kid. The guy who was a part of her favourite band. The guy who inspired her into making her own music.

And the guy who was killing her.

Silverhand tossed her around her apartment, surprising her with that fact that he could touch her.

It made her afraid of him. Because no one would help her if he suddenly decided to kill her. To them it would seem like cyber psychosis.

But still she fought back. She had nothing to loose after Jackie. She glared at him, yelled at him and crawled her way towards the pills.

“Fuck off!” she said to him, seconds before he dematerialised. With that she laid down and fell asleep on the ground, her body too exhausted to move.

Next morning was hell for her.

Her head was in agony not only from the fact that she was shot in the head, but also because it got smashed into a window.

She washed herself, took care of her broken nose, dressed in her favourite black leather pants, grey sleeveless hoodie and black biker vest. Putting on her combat boots and pulling the hood over her still damp peach-pink hair, she left her apartment.

As she was leaving the bloc, Takemura called her. Asking to meet up.

V didn’t want to, but the man was persistent. So finally she agreed and still feeling like shit, took the metro to their meeting place.

Takemura was easy to find, his clean and fancy clothing standing out.

The man seemed reliable and openly spoke about what he wanted. She could work with that.

After Goro left, V let out a deep breath. A feeling of hope finally igniting in her, that maybe. Just maybe, she’ll be able to survive.

But that moment of peace lasted only couple of seconds as Silverhand appeared, sitting in front of her as if he was really there, tapping his hands against the table.

“Zapper-dumples and filth. In some ways, Night City never changes. Arasaka’s still a despotic machine and the world’s on a collision course with chaos. But hey, at least Rogue’s still alive” the man said, his leg on the table looking like a jackass.

Or a rockerboy.

V’s fear and anger bleed into one as she said angrily and quite loudly.

“You know, you got some nerve. First you’re out to kill me, now you wanna be my choom? Make like nothing happened?”

People turned to stare at her as if she’s lost her mind. Making her realise that, yeah. Only she could see that fucker.

And to think that she idolised the bastard as a kid.

Silverhand looked around at the people saying “You know you don’t gotta speak out loud to talk to me?”

V glared at him, her fingers twitching.

“What. Do. You. Want” she said in her mind.

“I’ve processed some shit, changed my mind. Don’t want you dead anymore”

“Go fuck yourself, you fucking dick” she said angrily, pointing her finger at him.

“Hey, wasn’t easy for me, either. You woke up in a landfill, I woke up in your head. Wrestling with your thoughts, memories. Think we’re even”

“The fuck we are! I didn’t try to murder you, while you were almost dead in your bed!” she accused, not feeling scared anymore. Just angry.

Silverhand pretended he didn’t hear her as he took off his glasses saying “I’ve taken a step back, looked at things... think we might be able to help each other. We could start with Rogue. Her and I go back to the stone age”

V snorted “I don’t know if you realised it yet. But you’re dead Silverhand. No one close to my age even knows that you ever existed. Your friends are either dead or so old that their memory is shit”

Silverhand looked ready to murder her but she didn’t stop.

“And what? You fucking know Rogue. What do you expect me to say to her? That I have a parasite inside my brain that would love to meet her? I’ll be out of the Afterlife before I can say “SAMURAI””

“Rogue’s heard dumber shit than that. Way back when you weren’t even an itch in your daddy’s ballsack” he said, the alien feeling of annoyance becoming clearer inside her. He leaned back and put his hands behind his head, his other leg joining the first one on the table “Rogue will dance to any tune I play her. Just get us to the Afterlife”

V stood up and leaned down on the table, their faces inches from each other “You think you’re so smart Silverhand. So fucking clever. But let me give you an advice, old man” she watched him glare back at her, as she continued “I admired you as a kid. You know that, from my memories. But should also know from them, that I don’t bow down to anyone. Especially to dicks like you. So now. Be a good little ghost and fade away”

With that she stood up and left. Silverhand didn’t appear again that day, which she counted as a win.

•english isn’t my first language so sorry for any errors.

•you wanna be tagged in the next parts? leave a comment!

•thanks for reading! hope you like it. I will be going through some parts of the main story and beyond. I’m planning it to be a bit longer so if you want something longer than 5/6 parts, this is for you

#cp2077 #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x v #night city #female v #v

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terramythos · 3 years ago

Text

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 19 of 26

Title: A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers #2) (2016)

Author: Becky Chambers

Genre/Tags: Science Fiction, Third-Person, Female Protagonists

Rating: 9/10

Date Began: 7/25/2021

Date Finished: 8/5/2021

“Lovelace” is an AI system aboard the Wayfarer, a wormhole tunneling ship. Following a critical error, she awakens as a fresh installation, overwriting the beloved version everyone knew and loved. Faced with a distraught crew, she accepts a strange offer: upload her consciousness to a humanlike “body kit” and live with an independent tech on Port Coriol. She renames herself Sidra and moves in with Pepper and her partner Blue. Despite their support, Sidra struggles to figure out who she really is, and the type of person she wants to be. To complicate matters, her existence as an AI in a body kit is strictly illegal… and discovery means certain death.

Pepper has her own shaky past. Once “Jane 23”, a genetically engineered slave from a fringe colony, she escapes from a scrap processing factory. Amid the continent-spanning junk heap, she discovers a trapped, functional AI named Owl. Owl saves her life and teaches her about the galaxy beyond. As Jane struggles to survive in a harsh and desolate wasteland, she resolves to fix Owl’s broken ship and escape the planet together. But such a feat is easier said than done.

“Just because someone goes away doesn’t mean you stop loving them.”

Content warnings and minor spoilers below the cut.

Content warnings for the book: Slavery, child abuse, child death, animal death. Depictions of PTSD/panic attacks. Traumatic injury and severe malnutrition. Recreational drug use.

I enjoyed A Closed and Common Orbit much more than The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet. From what I understand, all the books in the Wayfarers series are standalones, but this one does have a direct connection to the previous story. It stars two minor characters from the last book— Pepper, a genetically engineered technician who escaped from slavery on a fringe colony, and Sidra (i.e. Lovelace), an AI installed in an illegal, humanlike body. While A Closed and Common Orbit can be read on its own, the last book is helpful for some context and worldbuilding.

Official descriptions for the book don’t do it justice. Common Orbit follows two narrative threads. There’s a “current” story that follows Sidra as she adjusts to her new body and learns how to be a person. This storyline doesn’t contain much action, but there is some tension with Sidra hiding her true identity. With Pepper and her partner Blue’s help, Sidra gradually accepts/overcomes her unique abilities, challenges, and limitations. Sidra’s story functions as a scifi flavored coming-of-age story. It’s not all fluffy and heartwarming, containing realistic interpersonal conflicts and a rocky friendship with an Aeluon tattoo artist named Tak (who is awesome—a genderfluid character whose pronouns change throughout the book, and no one sees it as weird or a big deal. Hell yeah). I like seeing fictional friendships that take work to develop, but become genuine as both characters grow.

But in my opinion, the meat of the narrative lies in the “past” thread, which serves as Pepper’s origin story. It details her childhood as a slave called “Jane 23”, her escape into a continent-sized scrapyard, and her chance meeting with Owl, an abandoned AI trapped in a junk ship. Owl takes on the role of a parent and does her best to raise Jane. This story is excellent for many reasons. It’s a parallel coming-of-age story. Like Sidra, Jane learns to become a person, but hers are bleak circumstances; isolated from other humans, eking out an existence hunting feral dogs, and slowly patching up the shuttle. Jane struggles with PTSD and the grim reality of survival in a world that wants her dead. This culminates when she resolves to repair Owl’s ship and escape the planet. The simplistic, childish language in the early chapters gives way to more nuanced prose as Jane learns more about the galaxy. There’s a heavy focus on the close, familial relationship between her and Owl. As the story progresses, the reader naturally questions what happened to Owl, and why she’s absent in the Sidra storyline. Both stories converge in the third act to resolve this.

One thing that’s really nice about parallel narratives is when they complement and add context to each other. It’s such a basic thing, but I love when writers do it well, and Chambers is no exception. Pepper’s “past” story provides the context for her motivation to help Sidra. Pepper sees AIs as fully sapient and deserving of the same rights, treatment, and dignity as any other person. Owl saved Pepper’s life and raised her because it was the right thing to do… so Pepper fulfills a similar role for Sidra. Another great detail is Pepper’s obsession with a children’s media franchise, Big Bug. Initially it comes of as geeky and a little silly. But when we see the reason for her attachment in the Jane storyline, it hits like a gutpunch. There’s lots of other similarities between the stories, but we’d be here all day if I went into them.

In general, many of my complaints about the last book don’t apply to this one. I think fewer leads helps, as there is more focus on individual character arcs. To me, many of the characters in the last book felt tacked on, to the point I didn’t feel any investment in them. But here, the focus on Sidra and Pepper feels deeper and more intimate. I’m apprehensive about the next two books, as they both have broad ensemble casts. I hope they avoid the problems present in The Long Way, but I’ll be optimistic. Common Orbit also has lasting conflict and consequence, something severely lacking in the last book. It’s nice to see that characters who like each other and consider each other family still have arguments and conflicting motivations. This sounds basic, but again, it’s something the last book either didn’t convey or resolved right away.

While I enjoyed this book, I have a few criticisms. Several key scenes are missing, to the story’s detriment. A big one is Owl’s “introduction” to Sidra’s storyline. As I mentioned earlier, it’s clear that Pepper’s motivation to help Sidra stems from her relationship with Owl. When Owl suddenly becomes relevant, it’s hand-waved that Pepper told Sidra about her at some point. Yet we never actually see Pepper do this. Considering the narrative setup between these characters, it seems like a huge missed opportunity to skip a critical scene that ties the three together. I also wanted to see more development with Blue; while I like him, he doesn’t have much narrative impact. He’s present in both stories but mostly serves as a passive, emotional support character. It would have been nice to see him take an active role at some point.

I gave this book the benefit of the doubt, and it paid off. I have to say I’m impressed with the level of improvement between The Long Way and Common Orbit. While I am nervous to see what the last two books hold, I hope I like them. As mentioned, each book is a standalone story. I’m reading them in order, but from what I can tell, you can start with any of them. I certainly recommend this one!

#2021 reading challenge #9/10 #taylor reads

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galassyalex · 4 years ago

Text

overwrite

robot!albedo au word count: 1773

warnings: angst, character death

Log:

New role: Chief Alchemist of Mondstadt

“I’m so proud of you, Albedo! But as you know, I’ll be leaving Mondstadt with my husband. I need a favor from you. I want you to take care of my daughter, Klee You’ll be her older brother! We’ll be a family. I trust you’ll protect her and take care of her.”

New role: Older brother

New relationship with: Klee

New main goal: Protect klee.

>> Fast forward. Two weeks, 6:04 PM. Mondstadt gate. Log resumes.

“No! Mom! Klee wants mom to stay!”

Klee is crying, this is a sign of discomfort, overwhelming and sadness. Running analysis. Analysis completed. Klee is sad because Alice, maternal figure, is leaving.

“Klee, sweetie, mommy needs to leave for work, but your awesome brother Albedo will take care of you.”

Action noted: Hug. A “hug” is performed to comfort and usually bring happiness to both parties.

“Go with albedo, Klee. Your mother and i should get going now”

New role: Caretaker

New task: comfort klee

Action performed: hug

>> Fast forward. Next day, 2:07 AM. Bedroom. Log resumes.

“Albedo, are you busy?”

Klee has red eyes, a sign of crying.

Klee’s hair is messy, a sign that she was sleeping.

Klee is shaking, a sign of discomfort and fear.

Possible conclusion: Klee has woken up from a nightmare.

Course of action: comfort.

“Did you have a nightmare? You can stay here if you’d like, sleep in my bed if you need to. I’ll be here watching over you.”

“Thank you ‘bedo, good night!”

Klee has fallen asleep. To ensure a good slumber, tuck her in.

Action completed.

New emotions learnt.

Commence night mode.

>> Fast forward. Six months later, 3:16 pm. Lab. Log resumes.

“Mister Albedo, another wonderful experiment. I-I’ll write down the results in the report!”

Sucrose is showing excitement. Positive emotion caused by a successful experiment.

Tasks completed.

New task: talk with Acting Grand Master Jean.

>> Fast forward. 5:46 PM. Acting Grand Master’s office. Log resumes.

“Albedo, I understand your request. But i’m afraid I’ll have to deny it.”

“Why’s that, master Jean?”

“It’s too risky, both the adventurer’s guild and the Knights of Favonius are not prepared for Dragonspine. Sending our chief alchemist on his own after only six months of acting is not a wise decision.”

“Then I believe the knights are not competent.”

“Albedo I ask you to not refer to the knights in such a way. I understand your displeasure but Dragonspine is simply too dangerous. You’re dismissed.”

Master Jean is frowning and rubbing circles on her temple. She seems to be upset at the remark made and also is under a lot of stress. Best course of action is to leave.

“Have a good day, Master Jean.”

Captain Kaeya is in the halls of the headquarters.

New task: Talk to Captain Kaeya

“Good afternoon, Captain Kaeya”

“Ah, but if it isn’t mondstadts favorite alchemist, what is it that seems to trouble you?”

Captain Kaeya: seems to have taken a liken to me. Claims that people are “into me”. I’m unaware of the meaning of this expression. Is chatty and charming. Difficult to read.

New task: ask for Kaeya’s support by complimenting him.

“I want to set off to Dragonspine, but Master Jean has denied me permission. She says the knights aren’t ready and I should not go alone. I ask for your help, since you seem to be one of the most skilled knights in this place.”

“Someone seems to be good at sweet talking. Tell you what, I have no specific team to lead but I’ll help you out. Some training should convince Jean you can do it. Plus, you can escape quickly with your Geo vision.”

“Thank you, Captain Kaeya. I’m truly grateful.”

“Just Kaeya.”

“Captain Kaeya.”

“Kaeya.”

“Chivalry Captain Kaeya.”

“Okay now you’re messing with me. You truly are something.”

Kaeya seems pleased with the interaction.

Go back to the lab and complete the last tasks.

“I’ll see you around, Kaeya.”

>> Fast forward. 8:09 PM. Living room. Log resumes.

“What would you like for dinner, Klee?”

“It’s Klee and dodoco!”

Dodoco is Klee’s doll. Dodoco is not alive. Dodoco can’t think nor move, dodoco cannot eat. This is a weird request. Conducting analysis.

Analysis complete. This is a normal thing for children. Go along with it.

“I’m sorry. What would Klee and Dodoco like for dinner?”

“We want fish!!”

“Alright, would you like some rice with it?”

“Yes!”

“And lemon?”

“That too!! You’re the best Albedo!”

Klee has praised you, it causes a pleasant feeling. Respond.

“I’m not all that Klee, but thank you.”

Talking bad about one self is a common way to receive compliments. Yet it is a dumb one.

Klee doesn’t seem to be paying attention anymore, children have short attention spans. Information recorded.

New task: cook dinner

Task completed.

New task: serve the food.

“Klee, do you mind setting the table?”

“Okay!”

Giving children small tasks around the house helps their development. By having plastic tableware it avoids accidents. Good job.

Task completed.

“Let’s dig in.”

Klee enjoyed the food and also became happy talking about her day. It is now 9:00 PM, Klee’s bed time is approaching.

>> Fast forward two years and six months. 2:08 PM. Lab. Log resumes.

“ALBEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

Klee has barged in. Check for damages.

“Klee! Are you okay?”

Analysis started. Turn the subject around. Do it again. Pat her arms.

Analysis completed, no damages taken.

“Goal: Protect Klee” is unaffected.

“Thank the archons you’re not hurt. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you did.”

“You worry too much, Albedo! Klee is a big girl now!”

This is a lie. Klee is 5 years and two months old.

“What did you want to tell me?”

“Well! I went out to test my bombs and they’re a success!! I even added my own notes to mommy’s instructions! I can’t wait to show her! But I know I won’t be able too yet, so I wanted to show you since you’re the next best thing!”

Klee’s ranking: Alice, Albedo, Kaeya, Razor, Amber, Sucrose, Lisa, Jean

Children are brutally honest.

Klee wants to share her bombs, you are currently busy.

Priority ranking: current experiment, Klee

Priority ranking: changed.

“Haha, alright sunshine. Let’s go.”

“You’re not busy?”

“It can wait. Oh but first, can you give me the feather on your hat?”

“Sure!! What for?”

You’ve obtained Klee’s feather.

You’ve modified it successfully.

“I’m gonna let you test out your bombs more, and also conduct your own experiments. This will let me take care of you while we’re not together. If anything happens, tap it twice and i’ll be right there.”

“Woah! Thanks Albedo!! Now let’s go.”

Klee is happy.

Goal. “Protect Klee” is affected positively.

I’m happy.

>> Fast forward. Two days later. 11:08 AM. Lab. Log resumes.

“Timaeus will be joining me in my journey in Dragonspine. Sucrose, I trust that you’ll take good care of the shop.”

“O-of course Albedo!”

Sucrose seems to be pondering about something.

I decide to not pry, for it is none of my business.

“We’ll get going now.”

>> Fast forward. 1:26 PM. Dragonspine. Log resumes.

My sketch of the hillichurls dancing is complete.

Peaceful time interrupted, the hillichurls seem to have noticed people and are now attacking them. Shame.

It appears that Sister Rosaria was one of them.

“We met a girl in mondstadt, Sucrose! She said you were stuck with your research!”

“Then you must be the honorary knight, all of mondstadt is talking about you.”

They truly interest me. My research will benefit greatly with their cooperation.

New relationship with: Honorary Knight

New relationship with: Paimon

New tasks: run tests with the pair.

>> Fast forward, 1 minute. Dragonspine, Log Resumes.

“Paimon’s got a brain! But what is the seed gonna become?”

“Well if it turns into a fruit, then dinners on me.”

“Yay!! I’m holding you to it!”

“You seem to be able to look through Paimon easily.”

“Ah… let’s just say i have to take care of a child occasionally. One of the non-alchemy related disciplines i'm good at.”

Klee reminder.

Check on Klee.

Checking…

Klee is with Razor, they’re hunting.

Klee is safe.

“You okay there Albedo?”

“Ah yes, apologies. I just zoned out for a bit.”

Commence tests.

Fight against slimes. Successful.

Potion. No notable changes.

Willpower. Failed.

I’m hungry.

Cooking test. Average outcome, but they seem good at cooking.

Vision test. Average.

Reaching the goal. Successful. Better than the average citizen.

This brings new questions. Unlimited possibilities

Paimon interrupted.

Commence intelligence test. Successful!

“Thank you for your work, this is really useful. Come see me again tomorrow.”

“Bye Albedo!”

New task: clean up and organize today's research.

Task complete.

Check on Klee.

Klee is with Captain Kaeya, she’s braiding his hair.

Klee is safe.

Entering night mode.

>> Fast forward. Next day, 11:45 AM. Dragonspine Camp. Log resumes

“Hi Albedo!”

“Hm? Oh, honorary knight, Paimon, why are you here? Never mind, catch.”

Action completed: give the sword to the traveler in an aggressive manner.

“You into forging or what? Didn’t take you for the blacksmith type.”

Action completed: explained the origin of the sword.

We ran some more tests, but we got ambushed by treasure hoarders.

>> Fast forward. 6 PM. Dragonspine Camp. Log resumes

Klee notification: Klee has stood in front of the lab for 15 seconds.

New task: Spend time with klee

“I’ll do that later.”

Overwriting priorities…

Albedo priority ranking: Research, Klee.

>> Fast forward. One hour and thirty minutes later. 7:30 PM. Dragonspine Lab.

“I’m not making progress…”

Checking on Klee

Klee last location: Dragonspine

“What?! Why is she here?”

Now guiding too: Klee’s location

>> Fast forward. Ten minutes later. 7:40 PM. Dragonspine. Log resumes

There’s a backpack on the ground

Action completed: Lift the backpack

Klee: Pulse stopped two hours ago. Cause of death: Frostbite.

“KLEE!”

Action completed: yell

Goal: “Protect Klee” failed.

System status: Overwhelmed

Calling Alice

“Albedo? It’s so late here why did you- Is… is that Klee?!”

System status: unresponsive

“...”

“Albedo- you… you prioritize your research over klee? Why? Why? Why?”

“Main goal failed, commencing shutdown.”

“What?! No! NO! Cancel! Overwrite! Main goal! Go to mondstadt!! Please! Albedo! I can’t lose both of you…”

Action performed: Hug klee

Self destruction in 3… 2… 1…

“ALBE-”

Can’t fast forward. Log ended.

you achieved the true ending | gaaaah it wouldnt let me copy the format from the doc so i apologize if its wrong

masterlist for thsi au

#genshin impact #fanfic #albedo #klee #alice #jean #kaeya #razor #albedo and klee #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact angst #albedo angst #klee angst #angst #robot au #overwrite

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aetherverse-official · 4 years ago

Text

AETHERVERSE has been discontinued.

Hey there everybody! Sorry for the notification, but we have an important announcement to make: Aetherverse is being discontinued. Thank you all so much for being part of this experiment and journey with Sylvia and I, and a special thank-you to the guest artists for putting in so much of their time and effort to help us make this comic great. However, Sylvia and I have since moved on from Undertale, and neither of us see ourselves continuing this comic. If you continue reading after this, we have an overview of the plotline we had planned!

As for what we're doing next - Sylvia and I are working on an Original Comic. This comic is still in the works and conceptual stage, and we're worldbuilding, but we feel comfortable announcing it. The title of this comic is ADVANCED - and to give you a bit of a teaser, it follows a shadowy and dark secret investigator on their journey to put an end to a mysterious chain of murders.

Thank you all again for being part of the Aetherverse family. Hail to the Eclipse, we won't forget this experience and we hope you don't either.

Aetherverse Plot Summary {This is somewhat long, as Aetherverse was planned to be LONG}

We all know how the intro starts. Abaddon, Flat, and Xink fight > Xink wins the fight. I actually had a VERY specific image in my head of Abaddon being drilled through with a weapon that Xink overwrote into existence in a move to protect Flat, and him blacking out with blotched colors in his vision.

He wakes up with Aether, isn’t happy with the situation, realizes he not only can’t use his magic, but his own magic is killing him. Crystal Creep - the shit on abaddon’s face - is a result of Abaddon not re-upping his stone with human souls. This is a callback to FMA.

Abaddon trains, and they have their first important mission: Talk to the guardian of the Creator’s Vision, Eurus. They go and speak to Eurus and their guard, Artemis, and get ambushed. This leads to a confrontation between Artifice and Aether, and Abaddon and Xink. It’s a very emotional exchange, and we get to learn that Artifice, Aether, Eurus, and two other unrevealed Guardians by the names of Raksa and Blackout were all raised together.

Abaddon is screaming at Xink for having gone and lied to him, but Xink reveals that it’s only thanks to him that Abaddon even exists. We then get a flashback: Xink was alone in the multiverse as an Ink - and this Ink was Summer. Summer wanted nothing more than to please the Creators, however, it’s revealed that the Creators were growing bored with the multiverse. Becoming disinterested. Unsure what to do, Summer meets with XGaster, who tells Summer he’ll give him the ability to Overwrite timelines, and perhaps that’ll keep the creators attention. Xink sadly accepts, watching as his only friend dusts, before overwriting the world.

This catches the creators attention as he creates his first interesting universe: A blank one, which created a character named Veneer. Happy he’s caught their attention, he continues to do this. Over and over, he overwrites universes until they’re nothing like their original ones. That’s when he gets to a naturetale timeline, and completely recreates it, making Abaddon’s universe. This one seems to really please the creators.

What he doesn’t know is that because each of the universes is so far from canon, it’s making the creators no longer interested in undertale - instead interested in making their own creations. End flashback. We also learn of a character named Grayscale, someone who’s been following Xink around, and Xink orders him to finish Abaddon off. He doesn’t get the opportunity, because Artemis and Aether are in absolute RAGE as Artifice kills Eurus so that Aether no longer can see where they are. This leads into Aether pushing himself too hard, and Artemis barely getting the three of them out of there alive.

It was hidden up until that point, but Abaddon lost an arm to Xink’s attacks, and he has to get a new one. This is where Ash comes in! He’s not pleased about having to assist the same person who got him into this mess, but he’s convinced by Xeidra and Filigry to do so since they do need Abaddon’s help. This is also where a character I never got to use, Drach, makes his appearance. He was going to be a character that represented Abaddon’s past sins and misdeeds, because Drach’s brother was in the Arena and survived, but at the cost of his mental health. Drach hates abaddon, and never will not hate Abaddon no matter how much good he does. More information, the stagnation spreading, more and more people being saved and sent to a place called the Save Point. This is where ATV and Fate Stagnant combine, we get Languish and SR’s help in saving those who were run out of their homes. The Save Point is a massive floating island in one of the doodlespheres, and it’s represented by the only working Save Point in the multiverse.

This is where three new characters are revealed: Chance, Peak, and Lobi. Long and short of it is these are Abaddon’s love interests, and no it’s not a love… square. Abaddon is polyamarous! And these end up being his three boyfriends. Sylvia and I didn’t plan their interactions yet though.

The end of the comic is pretty intense. The multiverse is collapsing, universes are falling apart, characters are losing their homes and can no longer feel connected to their universe. It all ends at the Save Point, a portal to SOMEWHERE opening up there and Xink blocking the way after successfully having gotten Aether’s stone as well.

He’s furious that even with the power of two stones, he can’t overwrite the multiverse and start over, so instead he ingests both of the stones and overwrites himself into this massive, powerful entity that the main cast have to defeat.

They give the fight their all. There’s blood shed, there’s tears wept. Xeidra goes down and Filigry sees it, sees Xeidra about to be killed, and absolutely goes full-on to protect him. There’s a very specific scene in my head where Filigry’s viciously fighting off tendrils of white magic, a sword in his hand and viciously angry, only to have a two-page panel of Filigry’s soul being pierced by a white tendril. He doesn’t dust, he doesn’t cry out, but he completely collapses. Abaddon is the only one left able to stand, and even Xink is running out of ideas. Xink isn’t angry anymore, but instead he’s crying. He wants to know why Abaddon won’t stop, why he’s okay with this going on, why he isn’t just giving up.

Abaddon says it’s because he’s determined.

He doesn’t have his naginata anymore. He doesn’t have magic. But what he does have are his fists, even if one is mechanical, and that same mechanical hand is the one that lands the finishing punch to Xink, punching DIRECTLY through his chest and clasping his soul, only to rip it out.

We’re left with a collapsed, weeping Summer on the ground. Filigry is dead, Xeidra is mourning him. Aether and Artifice are embracing.

Summer cries that he just wanted to keep the creators here. Abaddon looks out at the portal where everyone had escaped to…

And says sometimes it’s better to move on rather than keep holding onto the past.

He doesn’t help Summer up. He goes back to his friends and helps them, gathers Filigry’s body.

The last page was going to be the main cast silhouetted against a white portal, passing through it. The thing I looked forward to creating was an ending pmv, where its revealed how the main cast is doing, and it included a thank you and goodbye to the undertale fandom. I may still create this, because it does have a lot of meaning for me, but…

Thank you all. The undertale fandom was a wonderful experience, and I couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful place to spend my time. You guys really did help make me into the person I am today, for better or worse. The past years have been rough, but I’d do it all over again.

Thank you.

#mod roman #mod sylvia #important #aetherverse #aetherverse update

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wolftraps · 4 years ago

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As always

Another extra from The Reverb in These Holy Halls. Just because Sasha’s a fear monster now doesn’t mean she’s going to let Tim stop being her friend. But also, Sasha “in this house we love and support Jon Sims” James isn’t here for Tim’s grudges.

—

Three months or so after the Unknowing. After they’d all gotten pizza and got mostly drunk and pretended for the night that they were all friends and everything was fine. After Tim had handed in his resignation and closed a chapter in his life he was beginning to think would never end with a strong determination never to reopen it. Three months after all that, Tim comes home to find her in his flat.

She smiles at him, in such a familiar way, and it should make him angry, he thinks, like he was with the thing that took Danny. Angry and afraid. He’s not though. Mostly he’s just tired. Tired and sad. He drops his wallet and keys on the side table and locks the door behind him. It’s not like this thing uses normal entrances.

He purposely doesn’t look at her and she sighs. “Tim—”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “Don’t tell me you’re her, because you’re not.”

“I’m not… not her,” she hedges.

Incredulity forces him to face her. “That… that doesn’t even make any sense!”

“Yes, that’s… kind of the point.”

“Of what?” He really shouldn’t ask. He really should know better.

“Me? I guess? Whatever I am. Sense is meant to be… twisted, and coiled, and looped back on itself. For me.” Her fingers twist around themselves, and Tim can’t watch too long without getting dizzy. He shuts his eyes.

“I can’t tell if I’m pissed off or just confused.”

“Both, probably. I just… We were never going to be what you wanted us to be. But I couldn’t just let you… mourn me, and pretend I’m not here. I didn’t kill Sasha, Tim. Sasha became me.”

Tim scoffs. “Yeah, like Jon became that thing he is now. ‘The Archivist’.”

“Y— Well, yes? And also no. Jon’s change was more gradual—”

“The hell it was! Maybe for him, but he’s not the Jon I worked with. That I was friends with. That Jon was just— overwritten.”

“Is it really overwriting,” she asks, “if they were the same person to that point? Does it matter, if the Jon you’re talking about would’ve have gone through the next four years in the exact same manner as this Jon did? Jon became what he is because that’s where he was pushed. You’re blaming him for being changed by his experiences.”

“I’m no—”

“You are. You feel personally betrayed because the end result of his trauma isn’t who you remember from before it. If this Jon hadn’t come back, we’d both be dead by now. And you’d have hated him all the same.” Her voice is sharp but annoyingly level. That’s always…

“... aren’t you not supposed to make sense?” he grumbles.

“Well, if I don’t knock some into you, who’s going to? Jon?” She sighs, picking at her fingers. “I am… less Sasha, than the Archivist is Jon. But Jon’s change happened without his understanding. As Sasha, I chose this, knowing what I was doing.”

“You could be lying,” Tim says, swallowing down the bitter taste in his mouth.

“I could,” she agrees with a grin. “If I was, you might never know. I’m very good at it.”

“Not exactly the answer I was looking for.”

“Yes, but if I told you that, it would be a lie.” There’s a slight ringing in his ears, like the chuckle she’s trying to contain behind that smile can’t help but seep through. Part of him wants to laugh as well, the other part is trying to remember that trick to get rid of tinnitus.

Eventually he drops himself into a chair and lets the force expel the air from his lungs. Not quite a sigh. Not quite resignation. Not quite a roll of his eyes. “Alright, fine. Then why?”

“That’s hard to explain rationally. I made a statement about it,” she says brightly. “Two actually! You could listen to them if you want, I don’t mind.”

“I’m not going back to that place. Just… try.” She positions herself on the sofa, not so much sitting in it as draping herself over it, her legs just happening to end up curled on the cushions. And Tim knows that furrowed brow, that slight, contemplative frown. He doesn’t push. Sasha always… she’d always needed time to order her thoughts before she spoke. Never one to stutter through.

“Fear, I suppose.” Her whole head seems to roll with her eyes when he snorts, though it never actually moves. “Yes, I know, but… there’s no good way to describe it. No other word that fits so well. There were so very many feelings that led me to the decision. So many thoughts and rationalizations and doubts. But underneath it all, it was fear. Fear of never seeing Jon again; fear of him being hurt; fear of finding him too late, yes. But also fear of my own helplessness; fear of how easy it would be to be a victim— just another unfortunate statement-giver, and fear of not having the power to help when the time came. Fear that, in a job like that, the End would find me too soon. Fear of losing myself. Fear of being too afraid to risk it. Fear of my own stubbornness keeping me from adapting like I needed to. Fear of what it would mean, once I figured it all out. Fear that I never would, and it would eat away at me. Fear that, underneath it all, I didn’t want to figure it all out. Fear of how that desperation to just be lost pulled at me, and fear of what I’d be if I didn’t answer it.” The words come faster and faster until it’s hard to distinguish what she’s saying, though the sentiment still gets through. She takes a breath and sits back from where she’d starting leaning toward him. It’s painfully familiar.

“I was so full of contradictory fears, and it kept chipping away at me, at my reason. And then Michael told me he was going to kill Jon, and for just a moment it all stopped and it all hit me at once. And I thought ‘Can I really do this?’ and I knew I could. I wanted to. Maybe there were better ways— ways that kept me more me— but this was the one before me. This was the quickest, the most decisive, the most useful, and if I hesitated, there was no guarantee I’d get another chance. So I took it.”

“Not to be a self-centered ass, but what about me?” His voice is thick, trying to catch in his throat. “Did you even consider what it would do to me, to see this happen to you?”

“Yes. Of course. You’re my best friend.” He scoffs through the tears, and she smacks his arm, chiding, like she always did, though she should be too far to be able. “You are. Jon, Martin… they’re my family now. There’s a bond there that I don’t think even Jon could describe. But I think… you’re why I’m still Sasha.”

“Sorry, what? No—”

“Yes. Do you know how easy it would’ve been? To just let myself go? To become just a- a dye on the yarn, rather than a strand in the braid?” It should be rhetorical, but she just waits, and Tim thinks she’s been around Martin too long. Though maybe Martin got it from her, rather than the other way around. It’s been years now, Tim can barely remember what mannerisms she had before the Archives.

“Easy, I assume?”

“So easy, Tim! So. Easy. But I didn’t! I stayed mostly me!” Sasha pauses and tilts her head slightly. “Well… partly. At least half!”

“And you think that’s good enough?” Tim still can’t shake that bitter taste… or is it sour?

“I hope it is.” The words sound flat. Not without emotion but… without that unnatural reverberation that makes the world tilt. They sound… human. They sound like Sasha. “I really, really hope it is.”

It fucking hurts. It hurts that she’s gone. It hurts that she left him behind. It hurts that there is something sitting in his flat, with her face, asking— if he’s reading it right— to be friends. It hurts that it’s not really her. And it hurts that it is. There are differences. Countless differences. But the way she talks, moves, smiles… it’s all Sasha, turned up to eleven. It hurts how much he wants this. And he’s so, so sick of that bitter taste.

“I can’t just go back to how things were,” he chokes out. “I can’t just pretend you’re the same person I knew before.”

“No,” she agrees. “No, of course not. We could start small, though, maybe? Get lunch sometime? Make awkward conversation over and over until it eventually becomes natural?”

“Do you even eat anymore?” Tim has to ask.

“I… ate the pizza?” This seems like the sort of thing she should’ve thought about earlier, but he supposes she has had other things on her mind. “And I still like coffee. So… probably? I don’t need it, but I think I can still enjoy it. Maybe. I’m really curious to find out now.”

Of course she is. And that thought is what decides him.

“Okay,” he says. “Lunch then. On Thursday.”

Sasha perks up and grins. “Really?! Oh! That’s great! Lunch on Thursday! Right. I’ll- I’ll let you be, then, and see you Thursday. I’d give you a hug, but—”

“Please don’t.” Her laugh still makes him flinch, but she doesn’t try to contain it this time.

What she does can’t be called standing so much as unfolding, but whatever she does, she gets up from his couch and goes to a yellow door on his outer wall that definitely shouldn’t be there. Tim drops his head to his hands and rubs his temples.

“… Thank you, Tim,” she says, but doesn’t seem to mind that he doesn’t respond as the door swings open with an eerie creak. Just before she steps fully inside, she stops. “Oh… Tim?”

“Yes,” he asks, trying to remember if he still has any paracetamol anywhere.

“When is Thursday?”

#tim stoker #sasha james #tma #my writing #my tma fic #reverb ficlet #reverb #not technically a sad #distortion!sasha #the reverb in these holy halls

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lady-aescwyn · 3 years ago

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Strange, Tender Things

Steve Harrington x fem!OC One Shot

Author’s note: I was inspired by a prompt I found while perusing the Stanger Things fics tags. This was originally intended to be a StevexReader fic, but I decided to give the protag a name. It’s still pretty self-inserty and I encourage you to overwrite her name in your mind with your own if it pleases you. My writing skills are rather rusty, but please enjoy.

Premise: Steve Harrington and his girlfriend are having a stupid fight, which is brought to an abrupt end. Concern and gentleness ensues.

***

When it was over, neither of them would remember how it started in the first place. It had started out as simple, easy conversation. He hadn’t quite meant the words in the way they’d come out. She’d had more venom in her tone than she’d intended. They were both little more than teenagers. Though they were both whole in body, they were both traumatized by a series of recent events in Hawkins, Indiana.

Now, here they stood.

In Joyce Byers’ small kitchen.

Fighting.

The house was empty, save for the two of them; Joyce at work, the younger kids out under Jonathan and Nancy’s watchful eyes, reunited for the first time in months. But here at the house, Steve Harrington’s hands were planted on the top of the kitchen table, his upper body bent forward as he traded barbs with Dawn. For her part, Dawn was brandishing a dirty glass in one hand as if it were a weapon and giving as good as she got, her lips curled back in an almost feral snarl. Her time as a street kid coming back full force, manifesting as a bitter, angry fight to make her point.

The small, cheap table creaked with the force of Steve’s anger, though his voice was low, “We can’t keep living in what happened back in Hawkins. I’m not saying forget it, but we have to move forward.” His face was stony, eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s not over! It will never be over, Steve!” The empty glass swinging through the air between them like a saber. Dawn’s voice was strained with manic desperation, “Hopper is alive. El saw him! This can’t be over until we bring. Him. Home.” As if to punctuate her point, she brought the glass to a stop with a final thunk on the table.

Unfortunately, that finality was too much for the old cup.

The glass shattered.

There was a beat of silence as they both took a moment to register the cracking sound of glass grinding against itself.

“Fuck!” Dawn swore, fussing over the remains of the glass. She began gathering the bits, heedless of the blood that was beginning to seep from between her fingers.

Steve was around the table like lightning, “Stop. Hey-“

“I broke Joyce’s glass.” Blood sprinkled the tabletop amidst the shards.

“It’s ok. Just stop.” His voice was soft, a far cry from the intensity and clenched teeth of only moments ago.

“I need to clean this u-“

“We will clean it up. After we clean you up.”

Dawn finally deflated, all of her fight burning off like fog on a summer morning.

She let Steve take her arm and guide her to the kitchen sink. The air was still, humming with the sound of the refrigerator nearby and their breathing in unison as their anger ebbed away. The quiet was punctuated only by the clink of bloody glass shards hitting the sink, each accompanied by a sharp intake of breath from Dawn as she winced.

As Steve turned on the water to clean the wound, Dawn stopped him, “Hold on, there’s still a piece in there.”

She bent forward, trying to see in the dim light from the dingy bulb over the sink. Her lip was clenched between her teeth as she dug into the wound with her other hand. Despite the surety of her voice and action, her breath was hitched with pain as she coaxed the glass from her hand. In his concern, Steve hadn’t realized that his hand had found its place on her lower back, steadying her.

Finally, that last piece of glass fell from her fingers and they both released the breath they’d been holding. She gently flexed her hand and then nodded, sure that was the last of it.

He said, “Let me.”

And she did, her stance relaxing as she stood aside to let him wash the blood from her hands.

It was a deep wound, long and jagged across her palm and all the way to the bone at the base of her thumb. If it had been anyone else, it would have necessitated a trip to the ER.

“I have a healing factor, you know.” The words were without bite, her attempt at humor cutting the silence. He knew very well her ability to knit her wounds together and if pushed, to channel that ability to heal others… at an exponentially greater cost to herself.

She had used it to save his life only months ago.

“I know.” His reply was simple, but one corner of his mouth hinted at a smile before his brows furrowed again. “But I- I don’t like to see you hurt.”

The bleeding had stopped.

No longer over the sink, he still held her injured hand cradled in both of his. Dawn didn’t move, searching his face as he watched her flesh knit together. The rumble of the furnace kicking on joined the sound of the refrigerator. His warm thumb travelled down the skin of her wrist until it met the number 9 tattooed there.

Leaning closer to him, her voice shook, “I’m sorry-“

He shook his head.

She continued, “I know it’s not healthy to dwell so much-“

“I’m sorry too. If there’s any chance Hopper’s alive, we have to find him.” There wasn’t much to go on. Just El’s dream of a ‘cold place.’ It could be grief, or El could be tapping in with her powers, none of them were sure. They’d had no more success when they’d tried white noise or another makeshift sensory deprivation tank.

The last bit of tension, melted from Dawn’s body, “It doesn’t do him or us any good to fight. I’m sorry.” She reinforced her apology.

Steve’s eyes hadn’t left her wrist.

Moments passed in silence as motes of dust drifted lazily through the yellowed, old home. Still, his fingers ran tenderly along the sides of her wrist.

The cut was nearly closed now; just a jagged, angry red line. Even the scar would soon fade. This was far from the worst injury she’d ever had and they both knew it. In the buzzing still of the small kitchen, Steve seemed lost in the memory of before.

With the fingers of her injured hand, Dawn brushed his forearm. “Hey. Look at me.”

Steve took a deep breath, but his eyes and hands didn’t leave her arm.

After a moment, he spoke, “You told me once that Hawkins Lab created you.” There was a pause. When she didn’t interrupt, he continued, “You are so much more than that. So much more than them. You took what those assholes did to you and you did amazing things with it. And you’re gonna do even more.”

The conviction in his voice was searing and Dawn wasn’t prepared for him to cut right to the core of her worries.

When his eyes finally met hers, he didn’t expect her to look so stricken. Dawn’s eyes welled with tears as all of the emotion came to a head and spilled over. The uninjured hand went to her mouth, but once the tears had started, they couldn’t really be stifled and she stumbled forward into his arms.

“I’m sorry, I-“ Steve’s voice was mildly panicked; he hadn’t meant to make her cry. As she fell forward, he held her, which was all she really needed.

These weren’t bad tears; they were a too long delayed emotional release and they would pass almost as quickly as they had come. However, in that moment her shoulders shook with intense sobs as she clung to him. And he held her as the waves crashed over them. Damp fingers curled into the back of her shirt as his grip tightened and he buried his nose into the top of her head. Steve’s own vision was blurred with tears. This was the first time they had seen each other since Dawn moved away from Hawkins with El and the Byers’ and they’d almost ruined it with the stupidest fight.

Eventually, the sobs passed and once again the buzz of the kitchen appliances reigned in the soft atmosphere. But the couple didn’t part. They stood like that for a while, locked in each other’s arms, rocking gently side to side. Finding comfort in each other again.

After a while, Dawn’s rough voice came from where her face was buried between his neck and shoulder, “M,sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His voice returned from where he was still buried in her hair.

Dawn took a deep, cleansing breath and finally brought her head up, looking over his shoulder at the glass shards still on the table, “I have to clean up.” But she made no move to leave his arms.

Steve didn’t move either, “I’ll help.”

He was talking about more than the broken glass.

“Thank you.” her ‘I love you’ wasn’t verbalized, but neither did it go unsaid as she began to pull away with a soft squeeze to his arm.

Before they fully parted, he caught her with a gentle hand at the back of the neck and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Their breath mingled for a moment between them as they drew away. It was his own silent, ‘I love you too.’

With that, they stepped apart. Steve turned to the sink and Dawn to the table and together they worked to clean up the mess. Quick work was made of the blood and glass. Words were unneeded as they worked around each other and in unison, the same as they had done before in Hawkins; though this was nothing like those battles with the beasts of the Upside Down. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last time they moved as one.

As the worn dish towel was at last hung back over the handle on the oven door, Steve caught her hand and began to pull her from the room. “I think everyone else has the right idea, let’s get out of here.” His usual, charming smile dawning on his face like the rising sun.

That smile was infectious and Dawn couldn’t stop from meeting it with one of her own, “You know, I could show you our new mall up here.”

The response was swift and over dramatic, “Oh god no! No more malls!”

Laughter followed the two of them through the home like light hitting a suncatcher and scattering flashes of rainbow across the yellowed wallpaper. For now, all was well.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #stranger things fanfic #this was just based off of a quick prompt I found but Dawn is an OC I created a while ago #maybe one day I'll write the full fic #Ash writes

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sylvanfreckles · 4 years ago

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I Didn’t Mean It (FebuWhump 14)

(Two in one day! Now I’m only three behind!)

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human Summary:Hank's offer of a place to stay after the android revolution couldn't have come at a better time. Unfortunately, the issue of Hank's previous attitude towards androids still hangs in the air between them.

* * *

The hug had been a surprise, but not unwelcome. After the events of the last few days a simple gesture of camaraderie was very pleasant.

Hank slapped him on the back and pushed away from the hug, shoving his hands in his pockets as soon as he was free. “So, what's next for you?”

Connor hesitated. His eyes slid away from Hank's face, to the street behind him where a group of humans was loading what possessions they could into an already-crowded passenger van. “I'm not sure. I don't think Cyberlife will want me back after this.”

The lieutenant had twisted to follow Connor's line of sight and grunted in affirmation. “What about your new friends? That, uh, that Marcus guy?”

An unfamiliar feeling caused a momentary pang in his chest. The androids of Jericho had enough to worry about without him—the wounded sheltered in the church, the liberation of the androids still held in the camps, the rescue of the dozens still in hiding around the city. They didn't need his help, didn't want his presence. “I'll...adapt,” he finally said after a moment, offering Hank a reassuring smile.

With a roll of his eyes, Hank dropped a heavy hand on Connor's shoulder. “Well, my couch's free, if you need a place to crash.”

Connor began to reply, but his gaze was suddenly caught by the scrape on Hank's cheek, left there by the other RK800 they'd faced in the warehouse. The wound was still red and irritated, though it would undoubtedly fade over the next few days.

We don't bleed the same color.

“Thank you, but I'll be all right,” Connor said.

“Come on,” Hank squeezed Connor's shoulder and leaned in further. “Where else you gonna sleep, huh? My place is a hell of a lot warmer than some park bench.”

“If it was up to me, I'd throw the lot of ya in a dumpster and set a match to it.”

Connor gently twisted away from the man's grip and brushed at the wrinkles in his jacket. They had been through much together in the last few days, but he wasn't so sure a few words spoken in the heat of the moment could really overwrite years of prejudice. “I can recharge at the station,” he replied simply. “Or, if Captain Fowler won't permit it, there should be a few public stations still standing.”

“Jesus, Connor, you think I'm just gonna let you wander off on your own?” Hank shook his head and threw his free arm up in a shrug. “Don't be ridiculous, I'm not letting you loose when there are still assholes out there knocking android heads off for chuckles.”

“Concussive damage is a faster death than incineration.”

When Hank's face paled Connor realized he'd actually vocalized that thought. How strange. His new emotions seemed to be disrupting the usual precise control he had over his speech unit.

“Connor...” Hank looked like he wanted to reach out again, then shoved his hand back in his coat pocket and turned away. “Shit. I fucked up, didn't I?”

Despite the difficulties they faced at the beginning of the case, Connor found he was unwilling to cause the man emotional distress. “They were opinions made in ignorance. You've given me no reason not to trust you.”

“Bullshit,” Hank's head snapped around, eyes narrowed in anger. “Why do you look like you're ready to bolt for it if that's the case?”

“I'm not...”

“Every time I take a step forward you take a step back,” Hank continued. He took a purposeful step toward Connor, and Connor barely caught himself before taking a step away. “You're afraid of me.”

Connor pressed his lips into a thin line. “I'm not...not afraid of you, Hank.”

“So waddya want me to do? Want me to throw away all the matches or something?.”

“That's not the point.”

“Then what is? Jesus, kid, I just want you to have a safe place to go, all right? I've gotten used to you over the last few days, and you're finally acting like a person...ah, forget it.” Hank folded his arms over his chest and took a few angry steps toward the closed Chicken Feed cart. “Will you at least let me pay for a hotel or something? Get you a few good nights in a safe place before you try to, I dunno, adapt to the world?”

Connor slowly approached the cart and leaned his back against it, standing next to Hank but not looking him in the eye. “The slogans on your screen were a bit...concerning,” he admitted.

“Yeah, well, I was stupid, all right?” Hank turned around to lean against the cart as well. “I know this might surprise you, but I haven't always shown up to work the sober and respectable lieutenant you see before you.”

He couldn't quite hold back the smile at Hank's words. “I have seen you vomit after consuming a high amount of alcohol, Hank.”

Hank waved the comment away. “Right, right, not my proudest moment. Anyway, I was pissed, had been on the trail of this kidnapped kid, and the captain pulls me away to go to some fucking android first aide course. We were probably too late for the kid anyway, but damn if it didn't feel like those two hours were the difference between life and death.

“So yeah. I was pissed at Fowler, and I wrote that shit because I wanted him to know how I felt. Wanted him to remember not to partner me up with a godda—with an android. I made a mistake.”

Somehow, Hank's story relieved some of the uneasiness Connor was feeling. “He shouldn't have pulled you off the case,” Connor finally said. “You're a good detective, Hank.”

“You too,” Hank replied, bumping Connor's shoulder with his own. They were silent for a few moments, then Hank awkwardly cleared his throat. “Would it, uh...would it help if I said I was sorry? Goddamn, I bitch about Reed not caring about his job all the time, and you come along and just try to get me to investigate my own fucking case and I treat you like shit. I know it's not much, but...sorry, Connor.”

Connor mulled the lieutenant's words over for a moment. Hank eventually gave a grumble and pushed himself away from the cart, angling his feet toward the car he'd left parked at the curb.

“Hank?” Connor called after him. The man stiffened and slowly turned back around, loooking like he was bracing himself for condemnation. “Is your couch still open?”

Hank's face split in a wide grin and he moved back to Connor's side to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “Damn straight, as long as you can put up with a grumpy old man who needs mend his ways.”

Connor returned the smile and let himself be lead to the Oldsmobile. “As I've said before, adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.”

“Smartass.”

* * *

I've seen a lot of stories about Connor going to live with Hank, but not many where he apologizes for his shitty attitude toward androids. So I did it myself! I hope you liked it!

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday14 #i didn't mean it #detroit: become human #dbh #fic #fanfic #hank anderson #connor #found family #friendship #after the mid-credit hug

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