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dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

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The Covenant: Top Anon

Pogue Parry x Reader

Word Count: 2,288

Summary: You have a loyal follower who comments on every post under your food blog. Just who is your favorite follower and why is the new grocery boy kinda cute too?

It was a new year and the start of a new you. Well, that is, a you who was trying new things.

In the past, you always made resolutions, but that spirit ran out before the month of January was even done. But after the particularly rough time of the past year, you swore that this time would be different, that you would make a serious effort to do something new.

It was that determination that led your current situation—your kitchen countertops were covered with ingredients and cooking utensils, your cell phone resting on a near by tripod for filming purposes.

The goal for this year was to try running a blog, and since you were a bit of a foodie, it made a lot of sense to center the blog around cooking and food. The idea came to you quickly; the hard part was deciding on a name, which took a while.

Eventually, you settled on The Foodiest. Naming was not one of your strong suits, but it was enough to get the point clearly across to potential viewers.

Choosing the layout design was on the same level of easy as deciding and didn’t take more than a day or two to implement on your site. Thank goodness for the existence of pre-made layout templates that saved you the effort of having to code everything yourself.

With of the work on that end finished, the day had finally come for you to actually cook something to post about. Seeing as how January was a cold, winter month, you chose to make mashed sweet potatoes. Not only was it one of your favorite winter side dishes, it wasn’t hard to make either, giving you the confidence that even if your writing was lackluster, at least the food would look good.

Most of the blogs you were familiar with used a combination of text and photos for readers to follow along with, but you were going to try video in place of images. You sometimes struggled to copy based on what was shown in the photo, especially when you first started cooking, so you hoped video would make it easier on budding chefs who came across your content.

Luckily, the video would be sped up and lapsed for the final post to spare people from having to watch the monotonous parts in full length.

Hands on your hips, you surveyed everything one last time to make sure it was all ready. With a satisfied nod you reached forward to tap the large, red record button on the phone.

You debated whether or not to talk while filming but decided against it. You were nervous enough posting to the blog without having the added stress of talking.

Everything happened in its regular order: you started by peeling and chopping the potatoes, a basic step, but you took your time doing it, paranoid as ever that you would cut yourself with the knife. Next you boiled the bright orange chunks in a pot of water; then put them in a mixing bowl once they were cooked. And finally used an electric mixer to blend it all nice and smooth, adding in milk, brown sugar, and cinnamon.

Swiping your pointer finger through the finished product, you hummed with delight at the delicious, sweet taste. You pulled out a presentable bowl from the cupboard and spooned some orange fluff into it for the final reveal. Reaching blindly towards the far end of the counter you grabbed a bag of pecans to top off the mashed sweet potatoes. You scrutinized it and added more pecans for good measure.

Doing something in front of a camera was very different than doing the same thing on a normal day. Tension leeched out of your shoulders and you exhaled loudly with your head leaned back. A sense of pride warmed your chest, especially as you returned your gaze to the picturesque bowl. It looked great and tasted even better.

There was a large portion of leftovers because the recipes you used were collected from family and meant to feed small armies of people. You did your best to eat what you could and made plans sharing the rest with friends and coworkers later.

A few days after you published the post, you decided to check the stats on your account dashboard to see what the public response to it was, if there was any at all. Google analytics was useful for counting the total number of views it received while the blog site itself tracked the likes and… a comment?

Initial shock gave way to a bolt of excitement that had your fingers tingling with energy. You clicked to read it, wondering what it may say. Fingers crossed it was something good, whether it came in the form of a compliment or some constructive criticism.

Anonymous: wow good job

The chair creaked as you sat back slowly. You didn’t know how to read that, there wasn’t a whole lot to go on. Wow good job, said sarcastically? Wow good job, said excitedly? It didn’t help that the commenter didn’t believe in using punctuation either. And since it was submitted anonymously, there was no easy way to track down who sent it.

But maybe you were being too paranoid about it. You decided to take it as a compliment and cracked your fingers before firing off a response.

Foodiest: Thanks anon! I had a lot of fun with this dish. Hope you tune in for the next one :)

Anonymous never followed up with that particular exchange but they commented on every post without fail for the next two months.

Anonymous: nevr had white chili before it was good

Anonymous: the stuffed pepper were good

Anonymous: good call with the shrimp

Of course, all of the messages were sent as anonymous, so there was no 100% guarantee that it was the same person, but your gut feeling told you that it was. Who else had no respect for grammar rules and religiously used ‘good’ as their only descriptor?

You grew to expect, and enjoy, the weekly comment left by anon and made sure to leave a nice response in return. It was hard not to feel a connection to someone who took the time to try your recipes and leave a nice message. If only you could figure out who it was or at least have a name for them besides anonymous.

Foodiest: I’m glad you liked the recipe! My gramma swore by mayo when making grilled cheese. Thanks for always liking my stuff, if you ever want to talk more feel free to message me!

There. Maybe that would make them feel comfortable to give you their name you thought as you powered down your laptop for the night.

You spent the next couple of days leading up to the new post planning on what recipe to cook. Yep. Definitely not hoping for more information about anon.

For this newest post you decided to make some Indian curry, one of your favorites. Even long after you finished cooking, taping, and cleaning, the potent scent of spices was still heavy in the air, like aromatic nirvana that had your mouth watering even with a full stomach.

You tried your best not to refresh the post every few minutes to see if anon commented but it was tough. It turned out that you didn’t have to wait long as they left a comment within twenty minutes.

Anonymous: havent cooked this yet but looks good. Never really had indian before so have to go buy the stufff first – po

Anon finally gave up a name! You let out a happy noise and read it again. Po… short and to the point, just like all of the previous responses had led you to think about them. There was no time to waste, you hurried to write back, initial typos all over the place as the words out-paced your fingers.

Foodiest: Hi Po! It’s nice to have a name to put with your words. I would recommend going to an Asian Market for the spices, they’re more likely to carry them. Let me know how it goes for you :)

Since that conversation, Po and you chatted frequently about the weekly recipe choice, whether or not it looked good and if Po had plans to make it themselves, which they often did. Po seemed to like all types of food; vegetarian, meats, drinks, desserts, even ethnic dishes from places as far off as Bolivia and Morocco.

And the longer you two talked, the more frequent the messaging became. Whereas in the beginning Po would only submit a compliment that you would follow up with a ‘thank you’, it had turned into lengthy back and forths that took up a majority of the comment section for each post. More followers joined as the months went by and you hoped that they weren’t intimidated by your blatant favoritism but it was just so easy to talk with Po. If you were being honest with yourself though, it wasn’t only that it was easy… you genuinely liked talking to them.

Every time you made a new post it was difficult to not refresh the page every few minutes to see if they had left a message. And when they did, it was like a shot of electricity straight into the system where your heart would jolt and your face would flood with heat. You were hesitant to say it was a crush given that you didn’t know what they actually looked like and the computer screen barrier made it so you were content to define it as friendship.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you grabbed your wallet and keys while putting on shoes so you could make a quick run to the store. You had big plans to make some buffalo chicken wings for the blog this week and you needed to stop by the store to pick up some ingredients that you didn’t have, namely Frank’s Original Red for the buffalo sauce and blue cheese for the dip. Being an adult and responsible for your own grocery shopping was a chore at times.

Luckily, Winter had thawed out into Spring so there was no need for you to warm up or car or scrape your windows. You just hopped in and drove the four blocks it took to get to the store. The plan was to cross the stuff for the wings off of your list first and then browse around for some good snacks to tide you over for the next week or so. Things were going according to plan until you saw him.

A tall boy wearing an employee apron stood in front of the cracker section, his jaw line and soft looking long hair catching your eye. Then he reached up to the tallest shelf to restock some boxes his arms flexing slightly to show off his heavy biceps and his shirt rode up, exposing deep cut ridges in his lower abdomen. To put it simply, you were starstruck.

He finished with the boxes he had in-hand and went to grab more from the cart at his side when you noticed your blatant ogling. Rather than confront you about it he merely smiled and moved out of the way so that you could get to the brand that you wanted. Choking from embarrassment, you kept your head down and threw a box of Goldfish into your shopping cart, speeding to get out of the aisle and his presence.

The store was a small local business and you frequented enough to know most of the workers there but you didn’t recognize this one, meaning that he must be new. What a way to make a first impression on him. Clearly your constitution was no match for his rugged, good looks. Then he was polite enough not to comment on you objectifying him which somehow made you feel even worse about it.

You decided to end the shopping trip almost immediately knowing that you were too spooked to continue shopping lest you run into him again.

You rolled the shopping cart into an open check-out lane and started putting your things on the conveyor for the cashier to scan. It just so happened that you knew the cashier—she was a middle-aged lady who’d been at the store for nearly two years. “Hi, Y/N. Find everything you needed?”

“Hey, Eva. Yes, I did.” You tried to steady yourself. Eva had a notoriously sharp eye and wouldn’t hesitate to question you if you looked off.

She left you alone today, engaging in normal chit chat, until she had trouble scanning the bottle of Frank’s hot sauce. Eva frowned when it didn’t want to scan and tried again but the bottle slipped from her hands and the neck of it shattered. Eva cursed and huffed, hurrying to throw the bottle into the trash before more leaked onto the register.

“I am so sorry, hun! I’ll get you another.”

“It was an accident,” you assured. “I can get it myself—"

“Not a problem,” she assured you with a wink. She pulled a walkie from her hip and spoke into it. “Hey, bring me a bottle of Frank’s Original Red Hot Sauce. Quick.”

You barely had time to don your awkward smile as she talked about how her neighbor’s dog kept pooping in her yard when the guy from the cracker aisle walked up behind Eva and handed a bottle of hot sauce to her. She took it and patted his back to get him to move forward.

“Thanks, hun. Y/N this is the new grocery boy—”

“Pogue,” he interrupted. “My name is Pogue.”

_______________

Another fic where they know each other but don’t know that they do. This time featuring Pogue and his fandom accepted interest in food. I picture him to have bad messaging skills — his fingers struggle with those tiny phone buttons.

#the covenant #pogue parry #pogue parry x reader #imagines

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anjuschiffer · 4 years

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The Host Club’s Busy Week: Who Let the Rich in the Bakery?!

So during the middle of the night (at least it was for me), a group of us in the Maribat Discord server came up with this AU and thus this was born. Wanna thank @ficsforthestars for instigating this AU! I had a blast writing this.

Also, some things to know before you read: Mari goes under the name Marin when she's part of the school and Mari/Marinette outside of school. Adrien and Felix are called Twins since they look identical despite their different personalities and having different surnames.

With that, I hope you enjoy this!

@-@-@-@-@-

AO3

@-@-@-@-@-

“A competition?” The twins asked, Adrien and Felix looking at one another and then back at Damian.

It was another day at the Host Club, the boys lazing around as Mari was crowded by the clients that were in the club at that moment.

Today’s event: Tea with Marin (with cakes made by Marin).

Damian smirked.

“Marinette’s parents own a bakery, correct?” A series of nods. “Well, it just so happens that they’re very popular despite being a small commoner’s business, which leads to my next point.”

Damian shows them a flyer, Richard and the rest of the boys wondering what it was.

“A piece of paper.” Tim says after skimming the flyer, going back to resting his head on the club’s pillow stash. “A flyer to be exact.”

“Correct.” Damian puts the flyer back into his case, Felix noticing other photos and templates in the leather file. Templates were marked in red, some notes scattered around the paper.

What was Damian up to?

“What does this have to do with Marinette and her parent’s bakery?” Richard asked, something in his gut not sitting right.

“Well, the bakery needs part-time workers or any volunteers that can help them this upcoming week.” Damian pulled out his remote to summon the club’s screen projector, showing some photos of Marinette’s parent’s bakery filled to brim with customers ordering cakes and other pastries, Sabine and Tom wearing panicked faces.

Many of the orders and pastries were pink and red themed, the boys quickly picking up on the theme: Valentine’s Day.

“But we also have our Valentine Day’s event coming up.” Jon chirped in, worried about possibly having to cancel their event to volunteer at the bakery. Not that he minded. Maybe he’d get to try some cakes there.

“Like if we would ever raise a finger to prepare for the event.” Felix reminded the group, everyone nervously chuckling except for Damian.

“Back to the matter at hands, we’ll be competing to see who can deliver the most pastries for that entire time we are there.”

Damian changes the slide, showing a map of the area around the Dupain-Cheng Bakery. There were dots scattered across the city, a lot circling around the outskirts of the city and around the bakery itself.

“Sounds fun!” Adrien squeals, Felix placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Seeing as this is a competition, I’m sure there’s a prize involved.”

“Nothing gets by you, does it, de Vanily?” Damian wipes out a tiny envelope.

“What’s it got?” Jon asked, wondering what a small envelope the size of Damian’s hand would contain.

“A one day baking class with Marinette.” The boys simply looked at each other and blinked, turning back to Damian new with confused faces.

“We can literally just ask if she-“

“-with just Marinette teaching you in the bakery.” Damian grinned as he watched everyone straighten in their seats, wanting to laugh at the serious expression that morphed onto Grayson, Agreste and de Vanily. “A one-on-on class. Usually it’s take a lot of membership points to even gain a class with her parents, but with their daughter?” Damian chuckled. “You’d have to buy a year’s worth of pastries to gather the amount of points needed to purchase the class session.”

“We’re rich.” Tim bluntly stated, gaining a few agreements. “We can literally buy three year’s worth of-“

“Drake, do they look like a factory to be able to produce that quantity of goods?” Tim mumbled a no. “There you have it.”

“So, who’s in?” All the boys raised their hands. “Let the game begin.”

Marinette felt a shiver go down her spine as she drank some tea with the ladies, turning her head to see the boys arguing with each other.

A storm was brewing.

----

“STOP GROWING MUSHROOMS BY THE OVEN SENPAI! YOU’RE GOING TO RUIN THE DOUGH!” Marinette screamed, pulling Dick away from their oven, allowing himself to get dragged out of the kitchen and into the staircase that lead to the apartment.

Adrien and Felix giggled as they watched their friend get scolded by Marinette, quickly going over to the counter to hand Damian over the money they had gotten from their recent delivery.

“Did he mess up again?” Felix asked Damian, accepting the water bottle the Wayne had offered.

“He sure did.” Tim replies, sipping on his coffee.

“And he was so sure he was going to get it right this time.” Damian grinned. “He ended up getting lost towards the end and had to get our driver to help him, only to be off by a whole number.”

“Should’ve seen how embarrassed he got when he knocked on the wrong house door and apologized for bothering them.” Tim said, smirking into his coffee. “Wish I had known about this instant coffee sooner. Don’t have to wait for it to be grounded or anything! Just add water and it’s done!”

“Well thanks to you, we’re a bag short.” Marinette scowled, causing Tim to jump. “I swear I just saw you drink a cup a minute ago.” Mari said, rubbing her temple as she made her way back into the kitchen.

“It was actually five minutes ago.” Tim mumbled, taking another sip from the coffee before planing it down to help ring the customer at the counter.

“Wait, just how much has he been drinking?” Adrien said, turning to Damian for answers.

“For every five cups he pours, one of them ends up for him.” Damian answered, glaring at Tim as he attempted to steal another cup. “This coffee is for the elderly lady over there so you can’t have it.”

“Party pooper.” Tim muttered, watching Damian give Jon a blind eye.

Said boy was sitting with the elderly lady, chatting away as the two ate some brioche.

“I thought you guys were here to help, not to be babysitted.” Marinette growled through her teeth, making everyone go back to their respected jobs.

She knew, she just knew it.

That shiver that rippled down her back that day was this. She was being warned about this disaster.

When the Club appeared at her door that morning -at four of the morning mind you-, she knew something was up, she knew they were plotting something.

And today was not the best day to interfere with her life. Today was one of the busiest days of the year, so Mari didn’t need this ball of stress to start the day, knowing there was more stress awaiting for her further on.

But just as she had finished scolding them and demanded them to go back home, her father decided to walk by, his face brightening upon seeing them.

He started to cry and hug Marinette and thanking her for getting her classmates to help them out, thanking Marinette for always being so concerned for her parents.

As Tom welcomed them in, Mari could only watch in complete annoyance as she watched them have their way.

Oh the work that awaited them, which led to now.

Felix and Adrien had finished delivering their 49th order while Richard was still on his 23rd.

While Mari wished she could go and encourage Dick, but she couldn’t, even if she wanted to.

Her parents had their hands full and she was needed in the back, trusting Damian with the money, counter and managing his monkeys.

He wasn’t the Club’s manager for no reason after all.

With a heavy sigh and after slapping her hands on her cheeks, she headed back to the kitchen.

-----

“Thank you all for helping us today.” Sabine said with a bow, the boys also bowing, though at different times.

“Marinette’s lucky to have wonderful friends like yourselves.” Tom said, patting his daughter’s head. Marinette gave her father a smile but dropped it when she turned to see the club members, her eyes narrowed.

“If anything, we’re lucky to have Mari for a friend.” Jon said, running up to Sabine. “Now we know where she gets her kind personality from!”

Thank Jon was the only thing that rang through the member’s mind, thanking the oblivious boy and his sunshine personality.

Sabine hugged the boy. “I’m just so happy that my little girl is getting along with her classmates and making friends.” She let go of Jon, who wobbled to compose himself. “We were worried she wouldn’t make any, seeing as it’s a very prestigious school the lot of you attend.”

The twins looked at each other before grinning, Mari not liking it one bit.

“Don’t worry about a thing Mme. Cheng!” Adrien said with a chirp, Felix noticing the cue to continue.

“The three of us are in the same class and club.” Felix said, smiling at the cooing Sabine gave them. He continued. “We are very close friends, spending a lot of time together, working on club activities and schoolwork.”

“And because we spend so much time together, we’ve practically her favorite duo. We are best friends after all!” Adrien ended with a smile, shaking Felix’s hand behind his back upon noticing how Dick wilted at their right.

“Oh Mari!” Marinette was smoldered by hugs, the Club enjoying every bit of it.

-----

“So, who won?” Felix asked, sipping on some Earl Grey.

The weekend had passed, the Club spending their glorious three days there, getting fed by the Dupain-Cheng’s.

Jon -in particular- adored Sabine, one of favorite things about her was how comfortable he felt around her. Almost like having a second mother.

Tim enjoyed simply being in the bakery, to sit in the aroma of freshly made coffee was heavenly.

The rest simply liked the bakery because of Marinette and the feeling of being home despite only being there for a few days.

“Yeah! Tell us Damian!” Jon chirped, stuffing his face with some cookies the Dupain-Cheng’s had given him.

“Well,” Damian pulled out his screen projector again, taking out a pointer. “Seeing as Jon and Tim lost interest in the competition as soon as they set foot in the bakery, that leaves the rest.”

He changed to the next slide, showing four lines on the map along with dots of the same color.

“Ooo, what are those lines and dots for?” Jon inquired. On the map, there were lines of different colors along with matching dots.

“These four lines show the route each of us took when delivering the pastries. The dots show the orders that were successfully delivered.”

At the corner, there was a guide that named which color belonged to who. Damian smirked when he saw Richard cower behind Tim while the twins glanced at each other before Cheshire grins graced their faces.

Felix tried his hardest to not laugh while Adrien didn’t bother to hide it. Turning around from his place, Adrien laughed at his senpai.

“Look at yours Richard! Your blue line is all over the city! And you only got 30 dots on the map!”

Richard curled into himself, his face burning with embarrassment.

It wasn’t his fault that all the streets looked alike!

“Sad to see that you got lost while being a few meters away from the bakery.” Felix added, smiling at his amount of dots on the map: 96. Meanwhile Adrien felt cheated.

“Why does Felix get 96?! We went the same way! We should’ve gotten the same amount!”

“You only got 69 because you failed to notice Felix sneaking in other orders as he joined you.” Damian filled in, wondering why-

“Wait… how do you have over a 100 orders?” Oh. So the sleep-deprived idiot noticed. “You were inside the bakery the entire time. Did you cheat?!” Tim accused, Damian raising a brow.

“Me, cheat?” Damian put the projector away. “No my dear brother. I simply found a loophole.” He took out another remote, the boys watching in anticipation. “I simply used drones to deliver the orders, no walking necessary.”

“SO YOU DID CHEAT!” Adrien and Richard yelled, Felix simply frowning.

“And as I’m the sole winner, I’ll be using the opportunity to gather more photos for Marin’s monthly magazine.” Damian smirked. “It has become a club favorite, even gaining more demand than his Majesty himself.” Damian wanted to laugh upon seeing Richard wilt even more, dragging himself to a corner to mope.

“I should’ve known.” A voice spoke up, causing everyone to whip their heads to their eavesdropper.

“Mari.”

“You did all of that just for fun?” She growled, walking up to the boys, her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot. “For your entertainment?”

“A bit, yes, however-“ Damian was shortly interrupted by a fuming Marinette.

“So you did!” Marinette yelled, grabbing Richard’s attention. “I can’t believe you guys!”

“Marinette, we didn’t mean-“ Adrien started, only to see Richard walk up to Marinette and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“It started as a competition.” Richard said, dropping his hands once he had her attention. “And we shouldn’t have treated something so serious like that as a simple form of entertainment. Sorry.”

Marinette looked at Richard, averted her gaze and turned away from him.

He had that look again. Glazed baby blue eyes and a thin line for a smile… the chirp in his being gone.

Letting out a sigh, Marinette turned back to the ashamed group of boys.

“It’s fine. I’ll look over it this one time.” Marinette turned to Damian. “However, whatever prize you were thinking of giving better not be rewarded as a condition for me turning a blind eye.”

Damian nodded, ripping the envelope from the beginning in half, making the boys scrunch up their faces.

“We’re sorry Mari. We promise not to do something like this again.” Jon spoke up, making Mari feel guilty for getting angry at the group. Darn him and his baby doe eye strategy.

“Like I said, it’s alright.” Marinette restated, now wondering how she was going to tell them what she came for.

“Did something happen Mari?” Jon asked innocently, the club fully knowing she was the softest for him.

The perks of being a young, childish prodigy.

“Well, my parents wanted to thank you all for helping out at the bakery the other day, so they want you guys to come over next week.”

“Next week?” The boys sang, watching Marinette fidget under their gaze.

“You see… it’s my birthday next week.”

Everyone went haywire, Richard quickly picking up Mari and spinning her around, shouting that his little girl was growing up. Damian started to jot something down and made phone calls. Tim simply blinked before muttering something into his phone and falling asleep.

The twins managed to pull Mari away from Richard to only squish her between the two, throwing one arm each over her shoulder. They talked about how they felt betrayed that Mari kept her birthday a secret and how now they had to go shopping for her gift.

Something about a house and a new building caused her to break away from them, warning them that they better not do anything of that extreme for her. Ever.

Jon offered her to buy her his favorite cake from this world-renowned patisserie, which upon hearing their name, Mari paled.

She knew that person, her parents’ idol and there was no way in hell was she going to allow Jon to buy her something worth thousands of Euros over a simple birthday cake.

Damn rich kids.

But seeing them fawn over her like this, to argue and have fun like this… it was like a dream.

A dream that was her reality and that she was thankful for.

She was blessed to be surrounded by such loving people.

She couldn’t wait to tell her parents that they all said yes.

It’d be a nice day filled with friends at her parent’s bakery, having cake and-

The floor began to rumble, scaring the entire club members and the other people there, a few of the girls screaming for dear life.

The floor parted open, Nino standing on a rising platform, light beams beaming pastel colors and Nino bopping his head as party music blasted from his speakers. His turntables glinted and his mixer sparkled as people began to gather around the uprising studio.

“Who invited that moron of a DJ?” Damian snarled, noticing the twins tense. “It was you two, wasn’t it?”

They looked at each other and then at Damian. “What? He’s cool.”

Everyone watched as Nino lowered the music and whipped out a microphone, grinning madly.

“Hey dudettes! You’re probably wondering why I’m blasting party music, but get this!” A spotlight came out of nowhere, landing right on top of Marinette, causing her to freeze. “Starting today, we’re going to countdown to Marin’s birthday! Give it up for the soon-to-be-birthday dude!”

All the girls that were present at that moment turned their heads in unison to look at Mari, proceeding to squeal and surround her, asking her why she had hidden her birthday from them.

This was why Mari thought to herself as she was pushed and pulled on from the mob of girls she was surrounded by. She listened as some girls promised to bring her some pricey fabrics, threads, perfumes and other things from high-end brands Mari only wished to glance at and never touch.

This is why she didn’t say anything, but Nino just had to go and say something, didn’t he? Nino and his loose-lipped self.

-----

That following week, up until her birthday, Mari came home with a mountain of gifts, her parents panicking upon seeing the gifts and not knowing what to do. Meanwhile, one thing rang in her mind.

Damn these rich kids.

After settling on what to do with the gifts, Mari excused herself to her room, her eyes landing on a box on her desk upon setting a foot in her room.

She picked up the box, noticing how delicately it was wrapped, a pastel pink paper with ladybug print all over it, a single red ribbon at its side with a note underneath.

The note had her name, Marinette using this sign to open it and cry upon seeing the picture.

In a simply glass frame with a single ladybug in the corner, there was a single picture of the day the stupid idiots went to volunteer at the bakery, everyone smiling at the camera.

Marinette wiped a tear as she placed the frame on her desk, a single phrase in her mind.

Damn these rich idiots… what would I do without them?

#maribat #maribat x ohshc #anju writes #had fun writing this #might make more in the far future #maybe

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authorkimberlygrey · 4 years

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The things you need to start the self publishing thing

This is a day late, doesn’t even follow the how to do the thing format, and my dyslexia is running rampant today so ther’s probably six billion typos and mispellings but fuck it let’s goooooooo

Shit you’ll need before you can even get to the shit you need:

A complete manuscript

I’m talking multiple drafts here people. Beta readers, self edits, tears, blood sacrifice, the works. Unfortunately, this isn’t 1920, we cannot publish our first drafts.

I mean, you can but its not gonna go well.

Money

Like. Lots of money. This shit is Expensive.

A Plan

Don’t be like me. Don’t just suddenly go “alright let’s publish” one day

Actually lay out a timeline for yourself

Expect delays

So Many Delays

Plan for publishing at least like six months in advance you will thank yourself later I promise

Ingramspark vs. Createspace or whatever they call it now. They changed the name the other day I think

I went for ingramspark

Because

Fuck amazon

Ingramspark is More Professional

Everyone else also thinks “fuck amazon”

You’ll be able to sell your book more places this way.

This one is a p personal decison so look this shit up yourself.

One you’ve got that shit, you can get this other shit

First things first, hire an editor. There are a shit ton of different editors out there, I’m not listing them all, mostly because I don’t remember them all and a lot of them overlap anyway. The majority of places will let you pick an editing ‘package’ that’ll combine several types. Go with that.

Alright I’ll list a couple kinds of editor. Just the ones I can remember tho, I’m not looking them up again.

Content Editor-looks over the big picture, the story itself. Fuck that grammar bullshit, this is about lookign for plot holes and character inconsistencies and shit. Basically a beta on steroids, I love these dudes.

Line Editor-this is what everyone thinks of when they say editor. They do the grammar shit.

Sensitivity reader-make sure you’re not making a dick of yourself, good thing to have.

Learn how to Format the book

This one you actually can do yourself, its not like...unattainably difficult, especially if you can get ahold of Microsoft Word.

The basics are:

Book Size

8.5x5.5 is pretty much the most common

And that’s the interior pages, the cover itself tends to add a lil bit onto that and so if you go measure a bunch of books you’re gonna get 9x6 or something

Font

12 pt. Times New Roman is the standard

Margins.

I think 1 inch is standard?

Listen, this shit gets complicated and its been like nine months since I did it, I’ll link you some things at the end so you can get a better idea.

Header and Footer

Pro tip: Center all of this shit, that way you don’t have to fuck around with aligning it right on the corners of the page.

Author name on one page, book name on the other

You can do evens or odds, I don’t think there’s a standard

Page number on every page

EXCEPT: the first page of a new chapter

Just to make things more difficult, nothing goes on those pages. Because fuck you.

Widows and Orphans

Yeah I know “what the fuck does that mean???”

You know how sometimes you’ll have this one sentence that’s just hogging a whole page? Yeah those

Or those times that a sentence goes onto the next page all on its own

I’m not sure which of those are widows and which ones are orphans tbh. I mean... I could probably guess but nothing is simple you know?

There’s some places that’ll tell you to do this manually by changing the line spacing and/or text size of each page?

Don’t fuckign do that

That’s ludicrous.

There’s literally a button for it on microsoft word

This is one of those things where the easy solution is actually the one you’re supposed to use.

Oh yeah, indents

No you can’t just press tab

That would be too easy.

And nothing can be easy, remember?

0.3/0.5 is the standard I think.

Also make sure everything is left aligned.

And the line spacing is usually double spaced? I think?

I want to say there was a certain number of lines per page that was standard and you’re supposed to fiddle around until you get that. So enjoy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0IGkyMhsr28

https://firstmanuscript.com/proper-manuscript-format/

A Cover

Unless you’re like A Professional don’t do this yourself its way more complicated than you’d think

Have a Solid Idea of what you want your cover to look like. Just shrugging and going “idk man” isn’t going to help anyone.

This isn’t just the fun artsy shit either

Figure out where you’re putting the blurb and your author picture and your author bio, which, btw, you gotta write too. I’ll get there.

Author Bio

Jenna Morecci did a whole video on this so def look that up cause that’s pretty much the best info I’ve got for you.

But:

3-5 sentences

Written in third person

Yes its weird to write about yourself this way, just go with it.

Embrace your inner “whatever fictional character talks in third person” and go with it

One sentence on your experience with writing whatever this is

One sentence about yourself/shit you like

And one on something else, I’m not watching the whole video over for this. Just go watch Jenna, you’ll love her.

I don’t think I’ve ever read an author bio and I don’t know anyone else who does either but I guess somebody must so we all have to suffer.

A Copyright thing

Like. Register your book with the copy right office so that if someone tries to steal it you can tell them to stop.

Yes this costs money too. Becasue fuck you I guess.

This sounds really intimidating but honestly you just fill out paperwork and while that stresses me personally out beyond rationality its not really that bad.

Don’t forget to add the copyright page in your book too, there’s a thing on the format for it, lemme look

Here ya go:

https://blog.reedsy.com/copyright-page/

An ISBN

Most people upon reading this immeditaely went “what the fuck is an ISBN?”

If you didn’t then good job you’re more prepared than I was. Good on you.

An ISBN is like an identifying number for your book.

Actually, its an identifying number for specifically this format of your book. If you’re planning on doing a paperback and an ebook or a hardcover or an audiobook or whatever, you need to get an ISBN for Every Format of it

You can buy ISBNs ((in the US at least, I don’t know about other countries sorry)) on Bowker.com

Why did they name it that?

I don’t know

You would think that they’d maybe pick a more...I don’t know, relevant name for their site?

Listen, a fact of publishing a book is that everyone involved has conspired to make is as frustrating as humanly possible. You’re just going to have to accept that.

Why is their whole site mascot a bird?

Also don’t know. They’re having a good time with it I guess.

Maybe something to do with Bowker sounding like bough?

Also a barcode!

Yeah, didn’t think you’d have to buy that did you?

Neither did I but here we are

Actually you don’t have to buy one if you use ingramspark, they’ll give you one when you use their cover template thing apparently.

Know what price you want to sell the book for

Even in self publishing, the place you’re going through is gonna want a piece of the pie. Enjoy that.

Ingramspark has a calculator for that actually, its p cool

You can stick the price in the barcode

Idk if that relevant but that’s a thing you can do?

uhh…..I’m pretty sure I’m forgetting something….

You might want to get an author website set up?

You should probably have that before now but if youre doing this Chaos Style (™) like I did then you probably want it up before you publish so you can put it on the book somewhere.

People you need to hire:

Editor

Cover Designer

Possibly a formatting person if you decide fuck that shit

Which. Understandable

Shit you need to get a handle on

Formatting

If you decide fuck yourself

Which. Understandable

Price

ISBN

OH yeah.

Marketing Junk

You honeslty need to have a handle on this shit Waaaaaaayyyy the fuck in the future. If you’re only thinking about it like...now its probably not great.

The Chaos Method is not generally a good approach

See: Ascendant’s release was essentially a flop and even tho people who read the book love the book I’m still struggling to get people to read the book

Psst read the book its great I promise

Your book release is like. The Biggest Chance for marketing shit

Get on top of that junk

Giveaways

Posts about it

Just

Everything all the time everywhere

You definitely need a schedule for this

Like seriously

Make a plan.

That’s pretty much it I think. I mean...look in other places too because like I said earlier, its been months since I did this and when I did do it it was the Chaos Method of me just going “I’m gonna publish now” and Doing That.

Get a plan, believe in yourself. Get a publishing mentor

Someone who’s done this shit before and can give you some encouragement and direction.

It probably shouldn’t be me but I guess if you need help I’m game to do what I can.

Also be prepared to like. Crash, mentally, So Hard. Its terrible. See my older post for all the shitty shit about publishing this way.

#Publishing #self publishing #Writing help #writing advice #how to do the thing

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yooleestruck · 4 years

Text

in which lee rambles about how great writers are

I don’t really know what this is. I don’t know if now is the right time to do this, or a really bad time, or if it makes any sense, but I want to talk about it! I feel like a broken record saying ‘the writing matters most, the writing matters most’ but maybe I need to show what I mean by that? So, here is an attempt.

I’m sorry not all of these are the same length and not everyone is here, because every time I see that someone is a writer I do try to follow but I don’t always know/remember! Also I am weird about this sort of thing and don’t want to tag people in a monster-long post, so I’m just going to link. I also don’t want to make this a producers vs writers thing, it’s not, it’s just, when I say I notice writer-stuff, an explanation of what, specifically, I mean.

Writers have a style fingerprint. I’m sure someone with an actual creative writing or English background could describe it all academic-ly, but my ex-chemist ass is just going to call it a fingerprint.

My first game in Lovestruck was Starship Promise - I love Firefly, I’m a bisexual disaster scientist by education, it fit. But I had been REALLY put off by GIL when it first came out (this was back when they released stories in parts? And the heroine, which I will get to) and though I’d glanced at AFK, I mistrusted it after GIL and Medusa, who was who I was interested in, wasn’t out yet. So I resisted a LONG time. I finally picked up LS and SP and played it explicitly because a friend said, you need to give this another chance, for a list of specific reasons.

And when Atlas’s route came out, I read it a stupid number of times. I must have re-read his season 1 & 2 at least eight times apiece (he is still my most read route, despite the fact I have not read his last season because I want to leave the story open-ended) so when I read Neil Dresner’s route, I recognized the fingerprint. Not only that, when I was reading Jett and the episodes with the paint scene (YOU KNOW THE SCENE) came out, my breath caught with how lovely it was, a particular in-between moment and touch, and even though it wasn’t a phrase I had seen, the style of it, had me re-reading (because it was gorgeous) again and again from the log for like five minutes and I thought, “I bet Melissa wrote this” AND SHE DID.

Physical touch! (& in-betweens)

Melissa-grey has a particular way of writing about physical touch in very emotional moments that is very real and grounded and ironically the effect is just magical. It creates these so skillful “in between” moments, those little things that aren’t dialogue and aren’t metaphor but SHOW you that this closed off person is cracking for their little ray of sunshine. They are SO subtle and so beautiful, like, the heroine noticing the scent of a pillow, or a softening of an aborted hand movement. She sets up and executes these moments of physical touch as a conduit for emotional touch with characters who aren’t ready to admit he latter and it’s DELICIOUS. Those little in-betweens are what I live for in story - and it includes all the supporting cast moments, who swell up to make the world feel lived in, and balanced (I loathe love stories where no one else exists! That’s a recipe for disaster, people need networks) I noticed when she stopped writing, and because I missed it, I went and bought the entire Midnight Girl series, as well as Rated (I hope that is flattering and not creepy!) and that style of writing is so unique, that without KNOWING, I picked it up in four separate routes (noticed in Sev’s s1, too!)

Pacing (& friggen heartache)

Another fingerprint! Ripping your heart out! Arthoure has had me in tears, MULTIPLE TIMES and I get very grouchy about it every time because I am the least sentimental and romantic person that I know (I once MOVED STATES to avoid an ‘I love you’ conversation. I once said ‘yikes’ in response to an ‘I love you’ and I once broke up with someone because I thought he was going to propose. I’m a bitch) but I think it’s because of pacing! I know that producers play a role in that, but that actually makes it more impressive, because making each bit of story feel like it fits precisely the amount of space it needs when you don’t really get a say in how much space that is has got to take a MASSIVE amount of effort. Every little hint, every emotional beat, every character tell, they drop at a consistent build so the emotional payoff is just brutal (in a good, cathartic way?) every time a route makes me cry I wait and see and YEAH ITS ALWAYS ARTHOURE. The sweep and sentiment of Remy’s season 2 is unparalleled. Across Time is gutwrenching, and I actually stopped reading Renzei at one point because I was so emotional over it I had to like, LEGIT TAKE A BREAK to recover. Pacing and heartache. I have to stop and wonder - is it because the routes themselves are so gut-punching? OR is it because she knows how to wring every last emotional drop out of whatever story framework is handed to her? Because, Ezekiel’s villain costume is a bit silly (there I said it, it is) I get the cobra helmet shape in theory but in practice, ooof, but POINT BEING despite being skeptical I’d be able to take his story seriously as a result, I was hiccuping from crying so much (and I am gosh darn adult, in my thirties, with three degrees and a high-stress job at pretty major company. I DON’T CRY EASY)

Dialogue (& heroines!)

Xekstrin is the gosh damn master of dialogue. Clever, witty banter that doesn’t go where you expect it to, meandering but natural topic changes that are delightful to follow and feel real, and--special shoutout for this, okay--the navigation of viscerally important topics like consent, kink, self-worth, power in relationships, self-sacrifice, and apologies in a way that is not stilted or forced at all (listen, I know Viv & Lyris are the most recent and they are amazing but I remember this first hit me when I was reading Astraeus, and I spent half the route with my jaw on the floor going, oh shit, oh shit. The communication! The navigation of the complexity of emotion going on, chef’s kiss! Casual isn’t the right word, but, natural, maybe?). I don’t actually take that many screenshots of the app--it’s usually single lines that get me--but when I do, they are almost always conversations from one of her routes, because they’re so damn good, and often so unexpected, and yet always make such perfect sense for the characters involved. Dialogue is SO HARD OKAY. Actually try and transcribe a conversation sometime, it’s nuts how people talk vs how most people write people talking. Xekstrin also writes some of my absolute favorite MCs, and going back to fingerprints, I was reading Lyris s1 and right there in the first tavern scene, as we were following along with the heroine’s thoughts I went, ah, yes, I know who you belong to and I am SO EXCITED. Being able to give the heroine unique thoughts and quirks, to make her genuinely relatable, without overriding the necessary template of the genre dictates, is a skill all of its own. But I love her MCs! There is a beautiful balance of compassion, competence, and dash of bratty, wild, fun mischief. I can actually cheer for them. I can actually get behind them. I WANT the love interest to flop at their feet for who they are, not just because the story says so. And that comes from how the heroine’s thoughts are written, from her phrasing in conversations, how she sees situations, not just a producer saying ‘she is a strong lead who is self conscious about her ears and she’s nervous in the council meeting’ or whatever. I AM REALLY STRUGGLING to articulate this if you can’t tell from how long I have been blathering. Maybe this - the heroine is the same across every route, presumably, yes? Everyone has the same base. I NEVER question, when xekstrin is writing, why the love interest falls in love with her. Side note - I had hard written off GIL after a bad experience with the standalone app. I only read Aurora BECAUSE I learned she wrote it, and I would have SO MISSED OUT otherwise.

A complete aside in which Lee grumbles about heroines and not writers!

(Complete side vent: Often, the heroine is, if not a blank slate, a sort of collection of assigned traits, and she often remains so unless the story demands she become otherwise. Which is fine! I don’t personally, but I know a lot of folks self-insert, and so erring towards that makes sense. Almost all the otome I’ve played were originally written for a Japanese audience. When I played original Voltage games, starting back in 2014, I always had to remind myself - different culture, different culture, different culture, and it was not possible for me to relate to most of the heroines. I still enjoyed the stories, but I rarely cheered for the heroine’s romance, especially in some of the slice of life stories. I understood her, but I rarely wanted her to get with the love interest, I wanted her success to come in other ways! Another game company, Cybird, tried to ‘Americanize’ their heroine to IMO disastrous effect - it was such a stereotype, and made no sense since they didn’t also Americanize the context, so she come across as, frankly, ridiculous. And frankly, Voltage’s GIL heroine REEKED OF THAT. When they first posted her on social media I was legitimately annoyed about it, like could you lean into this more? I think not. So when I talk about being able to relate to and cheer for the heroine, it’s a big deal, because my blatant mistrust of Voltage and their ability to craft a heroine I could tolerate was a BIG factor in how long it took me to give Lovestruck a try. I was willing to tolerate it in translated stories, I was so skeptical of -en only ones.)

Metaphors (& balance)

literacouture writes beautiful metaphors for connection between humans! I’m really bad at keeping track of who writes what, but I purposefully kept an eye out on tumblr after reading Cal’s route, because there were some lines that were pure poetry, and I wanted to keep an eye out for more. It is HARD to spin metaphors prettily without delving into trite, painful, purple prose cringe territory, and it’s navigated beautifully in Cal’s route. There’s a balance between those spin-out moments and things that are tangible and anchoring and make it feel authentic and unique to the two characters involved, instead of just ‘I am trying to make this sound romantic and this is a romantic phrase so here it is’. That balance is really necessary. You NEED the mundane alongside the metaphor or it doesn’t feel authentic. Also. Trying really hard to write this without throwing any authors or producers under the bus, but...listen. I love Sin with Me. But the world logic (or LACK THEREOF) drives me up a wall. I don’t read Cal because of his character traits or sprite or (sigh) his story. I read him because literacouture writes a beautiful romance.

So anyway...

There are more! When I am less tired and don’t have meetings, I will try and write them up (Please know there are so many routes I love, and so many things I do recognize across chapters! I don’t even HAVE words for what theivorytowercrumbles accomplished with Helena’s story not to mention how much I adore Cyprin, SummerLightning’s handling of Onyx’s past relationship was so deftly done when it could have so quickly become ‘milk abuse for plot’ and joidecombat gave Sev a fresh, mischievous energy and navigated the dream/reality line with SUCH skill, and so on and so on.)

I’ve written a lot of reviews. And I try to give nods where I feel they’re due - sometimes, it really is obvious that the whole team’s work came together to makes something great, the world, the plot, the arc, the art, the words, and the music all fit into place in a well-crafted tour de force. And sometimes one piece or another is lacking, and I’ll admit I’ve left some...less than kind reviews to that end (I try and soften it, because I know there are humans on the other side of everything, but I’ve been harsh more than once with my opinions). I’ve read routes with plots that made me want to tear my hair out because I DO value consistency and logic to a degree, even if I’m going to accept at face value that, say, space travel is a thing or demons turn to sand when stabbed.

In the end, these are romance stories. So I will let a lot slide when it comes to plot. What sells a story are the words - not the outline.

And if Voltage doesn’t believe that - just remember that Hamlet existed long, long before Shakespeare wrote it. His was the version that lasted, because the people liked it best. The plot, the world, the characters, they all existed a hundred times over. Even just look at fan translations of manga. Why do people keep translating, even if someone else has? Because the words someone else picked don’t do the story justice.

I don’t know. I’m talking in circles because I don’t know my own thesis!

Maybe it’s just - the worlds these stories in are nice. But when I say I’m a fan of something, the premise is like. 10%. The rest is the writing.

#lovestruck #lovestruck voltage #lovestruck writers appreciation week #this isn't exactly one of the prompts #but #it's in the spirit of it #brevity may be the soul of wit #but that just means I'm not very witty I suppose #this is not a complaining post #except for maybe one section where I go off on heroines COUGH #but it's flagged

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witchynyx · 4 years

Text

I'm Not Really a "Ritual" Person, But...

... I just spent my entire night (from late afternoon until 3am?) designing and preparing for ritual.

When I was first accepted as a Candidate with the Ancient Order of Druids, I felt that the Vernal Equinox* was going to be the time to perform my (self)initiation.

*I'm in Australia, it's spring here. (And yes, I also realise the equinox was a couple of days ago now - I'm disabled, I've learned to work with a flexible schedule.)

Part of the curriculum of my First Degree Druidic studies requires celebrating a cycle of the solar festivals (at minimum, the solstices and equinoxes). I was accepted somewhat after winter solstice, so the next equinox felt like the perfect moment for an initiation - especially with the general energy of planning and preparation after WinSol, then giving way to the beginning of action at VernEx!

The awkward part is I'm just not really a "Ritual" person. Their self-initiation ritual was 6 pages long - my foggy/fatiguey + ADHD brain struggled to even READ more than a few paragraphs! Plus they've got opening/closing ritual, circle-casting ritual, seasonal rituals... And even without the reading, my autistic-ass brain (while it academically understands the function of elaborate ritual) finds these kinds of rituals unnecessarily performative, bordering on ridiculous, and also my chronic-fatiguey, mobility-challenged body just literally isn't capable of physically carrying out the rituals as written. So I not only had the struggle of reading it to start with, but I then had to re-write it in a way that was both mentally and physically accessible.

... But anyway!

My one seasonal ritual that I have developed over the past few years of my practice is the making of a seasonal candle. I hadn't done this yet, but I had the energy and motivation this (technically yesterday) afternoon, so I took advantage! I knew the main botanical I *needed* was bottlebrush - they're the most obvious feature in my local native flora at the moment, excepting things that were already prominent at Luminalia/Imbolc - so I went for a walk to forage some. A car park nearby has a couple of small trees, and they'd already dropped a bunch of stamens, so I just collected whatever amount was already tangled together and took them home.

Still having a heap of bottlebrush leftover, I decided to see how they burned as a loose incense.. And then proceeded to make an entire blend!

(And have my first experience of the wax from a tealight candle setting itself on fire, so that was fun/stressful!)

And, uh, somewhere along the line I decided to just print off a copy of the initiation ritual and go through it with pencil, which - yay! - my brain decided it was down with! Success!

So I made sense of their ritual structure, and figured out how to re-write that for me. But it was missing something, so I had to go to another book to find her ritual structure (because I knew that Julie Brett had discussed Spirit of Place, the ancestors of the land, and Acknowledgement of Country in her book, Australian Druidry).

And then, since I was incorporating it into my VernEx ritual, I'd better check the Candidate Guide for their other ritual templates.

Oh, and I may as well include my tree/seed planting as part of this! Because in the process of making my incense, I'd used the wonnil piece I had dried (because they're just properly coming into bloom atm) and liberated the seeds from those flower heads. I have to plant a tree as part of my study anyway (which I'm doing from seed, because planting a tree in the ground and looking after it is hard when you're in a fourth-floor inner-city apartment), and that's the species I really wanted to grow.

So I looked up their tree-planting ritual and adapted that, to add into my VernEx ritual, to go with my candle and incense, to fit after my Initiation ritual... And wow, now it's 3am on a Thursday night/Friday morning, and I've written six pages of ritual!

I'm not really a "Ritual" person, but uh... I guess I'm doing a ritual?

Will my chronically ill/disabled ass actually have the capacity to do it, is the next question! Stay tuned...

#aussie witchcraft #australian druidry #southern hemisphere witch #green witch #neurodivergent witch #original content #witchynyx #ritual #seasonal celebrations #vernal equinox

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katatty · 4 years

Note

For the Sims 2 questions: 3, 12, 16, 19 and 25 if you want! 😊

3. Riverblossom Hills vs Downtown?

I think it’s Downtown for me! I do like Riverblossom Hills and think its premades are interesting, I like the idea of a rural town but there’s something about it that just doesn’t do it for me... meanwhile Downtown is great just because it doesn’t come with a bunch of premades so it’s super versatile and useful? Every sims neighbourhood needs a local big city and Downtown idk, it’s just good for that! Plus I really like that so many of the downtownies have unique faces, glasses, makeup, etc. They’re way cooler than the maxis townies or dormies. Not to mention the Tricous - I’ve never really played with the dead ones but I really like those “teens” with the mysterious connection to Jon Smith Tricou - so much intrigue and potential there!

12. Favourite male premade sim?

It’s Dustin Broke! I have a soft spot for Ripp Grunt & Tybalt Capp too but Dustin is still my favourite. There’s just something about the idea of this poor kid doing his best to help his family and going down a dangerous road... I know some people play him as more of a bad guy but I’ve never been able to see it lol, he’s so sweet with his little brother? I also love that he is so into environment & animals and has the nature OTH, he is always talking about those things and doing that extremely cute “pretending to be a bird” animation during conversations, it’s very wholesome! (Angela is the same & it’s one of my main reasons for liking them as a couple, haha.) He is a sweet boy and nobody can convince me otherwise.

16. Who amidst the premades and within the original plot deserved better according to you?

This is kind of a weird question because it’s so easy for the player to give the sims whatever plot they want but maybe I’d say Cassandra Goth? She’s meant to be the “quiet, mysterious type”, she’s got this really out there eccentric style, is a scientist, literally based on Wednesday Adams, basically could be a really intriguing and cool character. I feel like she ought to have more of a “cool” vibe???

But her family aspiration, and “can she tame the town cassanova??” engagement to Don Lothario makes her seem like... honestly for lack of a better word “basic” lmao? Like even if you set Don up as less of an asshole and her as less naive & gulible I just don’t like the idea that this mysterious, alternative, eccentric scientist’s main aspiration in life being marriage and babies with this really conventional “hot” dude, idk. I find it hard to reconcile what I want Cassandra to be versus how she’s actually presented so I never really know what to do with her. Some people just throw maxis stuff down the toilet and do their own thing completely but I like to say somewhat true to “canon” or at least an interpretation of it..? I know people will say like “why can’t a cool alternative type also want marriage and kids” and fine but c’mon like... Don Lothario??

19. Favourite female and male townie & favourite NPC of yours?

Meadow Thayer & Tiave Tricou/Teens! Mainly just because they happened to become playable in my uberhood and I have a lot of fun with them. For NPCs... idk, I don’t want to say Kaylynn because she’s not even really a favourite of mine but I’m stuggling to even think of any other NPCs lmao, I don’t really pay a lot of attention to them!

Oh wait I know. Jessica Ebadi, the burglar! She’s the coolest out of the Pleasantview burglars for sure, I remember in some Pleasantview machinima series she was portrayed as like this badass mastermind of the crime scene, it was cool.

Oh, also, back before we had Meetme’s templates and I played with the original Strnagetown/Veronaville townies, I was always a fan of the Strangetown maid, Genesis Lam! Mainly just because the name is so appropriately Strangetown-y, haha. She used to clean the Curious house in one of my oldest saves and became pretty good friends with them

25. Your favourite Expansion Pack?

It’s gotta be university! I’ve talked lots of times about how much I enjoy the EP so I won’t go on for ages but honestly I just love getting to play sims for long periods and giving them little “coming of age” type stories without stressing out about careers & kids. You can focus almost entirely on the social stuff like parties, friends, enemies & romances which are my favourite things to focus on in the game :) Plus it’s so fun to create huge households of unlikely roommates - you can do that with adult sims too ofc like the Singles household but they don’t tend to last long since the sims inevitably start wanting to settle down & have kids etc.

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regnantlight · 3 years

Text

|| send a 🚢 and I’ll fill out this template for our muses’ relationship ||

@creepiitus said: 🚢 👀

Notes below~

Details—

Ship name: Zelbee! =>

In her FMA-verse, Zelda has human ears, but still with a pointed tip, said to be left over from long pointy ears of her Hylian ancestors!

They met in a semi-public Amestrian library while Zelda was on low sleep fuel. She didn’t reveal that she was the Princess of Hyrule until later in their relationship.

Zelda is a virgin before entering a “closed benefits” sort of relationship/dynamic with Kimblee, in which they do not see other people but are not publicly together. While both of them have an average sex drive, I would definitely say Kimblee’s is higher and has a tendency to fluctuate higher depending on different circumstances. Zelda’s sex drive can fluctuate up and down with stress as well, but Kimblee’s influence pushes her toward the higher end.

Due to her inexperience, Zelda has a lot more awkwardness than Kimblee. She also, in general, has more shame; that is to say, Kimblee has none. The tiny bit for Kimblee here is when he genuinely makes a mistake, such as getting a problem wrong while he’s sick or leaving Zelda’s family heirloom on a mountainside. Slightly awkward. But not much.

This is interesting because they suffer from different types of jealousy. Zelda is jealous of Kimblee’s ability to use Alchemy and the general ease for which things seem to always go for him. Kimblee is jealous of the lack of attention/emotional investment he receives from Zelda, namely involving The Cat (named Mr. Kimblee) and Link (who Zelda is still close with and clearly shares a strong bond.)

Ranges—

I imagine they would default to Kimblee being big spoon/Zelda little spoon due to the immense size difference, but it’s not at all uncommon for Zelda to big spoon and frankly, I think Kimblee would be pleased just to get the attention from her lmao

Kimblee wouldn’t fit into Zelda’s clothes, but fun fact, he does still have a scarf she once lent him while she has a coat he lent her. Zelda wore his shirt once before they ever started anything together due to current circumstances. She usually wears his shirt when spending the night at his place.

Zelda shifts between calling him “Solf” when they’re alone and “Mr. Kimblee” while they’re in professional situations, does that count? :P Given time, she may very occasionally call him something like, “My Absurd Dearest,” or “My Solf,” or Boytoy. Kimblee calls her “Little Princess” or “My Dear” semi-regularly and I don’t doubt the pet names will only grow with his dramatic flair.

Kimblee’s all talk and Zelda puts her money where her mouth is. XD hahaha but seriously, Zelda’s love language is quality time with a dash of touch and gift giving, so her affection tends to be more action-based, while Kimblee again has that dramatic flair of comparing her eyes to sun-speckled lakes and what not.

We have some stuff plotted out when it comes to confessions. =>

When she’s with Kimblee, Zelda respects his intense dislike for bugs and doesn’t keep them even if they would be good for her experiments. Instead she just captures/releases them outside whenever possible.

Zelda was taught to drive but has only ever actually driven a handful of times in her entire life.

However! Since meeting Kimblee, Zelda is becoming a better cook, having baked or decorated with him on two occasions. She’s still learning but she’s getting there! I imagine they usually order out if they’re at his place since he doesn’t eat much.

I recall Kimblee not being a big fan of open PDA, but likes to be annoying adventurous via sneaky PDA. Zelda is similar in that she doesn’t like open PDA (it would only serve to give reporters a field day) but will indulge in sneaky PDA to an extent. She plays it far safer than Kimblee does.

Zelda is more prone to get defensive for Kimblee (or anyone she has a connection to) when it comes to him being unfairly blamed. She has little doubt that he can handle himself in a physical situation however. I would say Kimblee 100% depends on the situation.

Kimblee’s been around town and Zelda just got off the bus. Her “experience” mainly includes a small crush on Mipha, a (to her knowledge) one sided love with Link, and an unwelcomed courting attempt from Duke Renfry.

#creepiitus #HAVE A LITTLE FUN (Dash Games)#▲▽▲ — i like being submerged in your contradictions dear (Zelda and Solf — v; FMA)#((Let me know if that sounds about right lol))#((Kimblee's out here chasing young women SMH))#((Used the picture you were talking about and found a Zelda one to match! =>))

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detroitwhatitmeanstobehuman · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1 - One and the Same

Part 1/17 of What it Means to be Human

Word Count: 10,810

Warnings: Swearing. There’s a lot of it, our girl’s a foulmouth.

Genre: Self-insert fic

Pairing: OC (Detective Rachel) X Connor

Rating: Mature

Summary: Lieutenant Hank Anderson, while interrogating the android that murdered Carlos Ortiz, brings in one of his strangest and yet uniquely skilled detectives in the DPD - Detective Rachel. Connor, the android sent by CyberLife much to Anderson’s behest, finds himself intrigued by Rachel’s foulmouthed and prickly nature, yet immense and unabashed sense of empathy and compassion towards others.

---------------------------------

Date: November 6th, 2038 Time: 12:41 AM Objective: Extract Confession Hank - Neutral

“Why d'you kill him? What happened before you took that knife?” A greying man with chin-length hair and a scruffy, but kept, beard asked the man sitting across from him.

Approximately an hour ago, Connor and Lieutenant Hank Anderson had apprehended a deviant android hiding at the scene of a homicide. And now, the android was brought in for questioning. Though it didn’t appear to cooperate with the lieutenant’s questions and simply stayed silent, not looking the aged man in the eyes.

Stealing a glance back at both Connor and Detective Gavin Reed, a rather disheveled and rough-looking man, through the two-way mirror. A black police officer named Chris Miller was seated at the controls on Connor’s left. “How long were ya in the attic? Why didn't you even try to run away?” No answer from the android. The lieutenant reached across to snap his fingers at it, as if trying to catch its attention.

Hank seemed to glance back at the others in disbelief before losing his patience and slamming his hands on the table. “Say something, goddamnit!” He shouted at it.

No response, still. The lieutenant seemed to have enough and lifted himself up from his seat. “Fuck it, I'm outta here..." He muttered, turning around and opening the door, leaving the interrogation room.

It didn’t take long before Hank entered the observation side of the mirror with the others, huffing his complaints. “We're wastin' our time interrogating a machine, we're gettin' nothing out of it!” He sat down next to Chris harshly, getting agitated.

“'Could always try roughing it up a little.” Gavin suggested casually. “After all, it's not human..."

“Androids don't feel pain.” Connor pointed out. “You would only damage it and that wouldn't make it talk.” He took another look at the deviant on the other side of the mirror before he heard the door open beside him. “Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they're in stressful situations.”

“So do I. They’re not special.” An unfamiliar female voice replied with a scoff. As Connor turned around to see who it belonged to, he found himself facing a shorter woman with short, wavy, dark brown hair and dark eyes that matched framed by the frames of a pair of rounded rectangular glasses. She was wearing a dark brown sweater with thick horizontal stripes of a much darker grey.

“Hi, Rachel.” Chris greeted pleasantly.

Hank scoffed in her direction. “Well, well, well. Nice of you to finally join us, Rachel.”

“Oh, well sorry I’m late, Hank.” She replied sarcastically, cocking a smirk and a thick eyebrow at him. “I was finishing the paperwork for one of my closed cases that Fowler wanted done ASAP, and I’d rather give him some good news for once.” The woman then fixed Connor with an interested stare, taking in his features as she glanced up and down his frame. “I know you have the whole ‘bear aesthetic’ goin’ on, Hank, but I didn’t realize this was your taste in men. A bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

The glare Hank fixed her with could cut glass while Chris was snickering and Gavin was laughing. “Oh, bite me, Rachel.” He growled.

“Oh, relax, Hank. I’m just poking fun.” She said with a playful smile, gently brushing Hank’s shoulder. Connor could tell immediately that they were rather familiar with each other. Rachel then returned her focus on Connor, her eyes glittering with intrigue. “So, who is this tall glass o’ water you’ve got here, Hank?”

Gavin let out a disgusted groan that Connor ignored. “My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.” He answered with his templated response.

Rachel - Warm ^ Rachel then nodded, smiling at him as she extended her right hand. “Nice to meet you, Connor.” She replied pleasantly. Connor, recognizing the gesture, took her hand in his and shook it. “My name is Rachel, I’m the detective requested by Hank, since he apparently wanted me to get some action on this.”

Gavin scoffed at her. “Well, you’re wastin’ your time.” He dismissed. “Machine’s clammed up and we’re not gettin’ anything out of it.”

“Not with that attitude, we’re not.” Rachel retorted, turning away from Gavin. “So what have we got, boy - oh my God!” Once she laid eyes on the deviant, her stress seemed to increase. “What the Hell happened to him?”

“It.” Gavin insisted. “It’s not a he.”

“Piss off, Gavin.” Rachel spat at him.

“We found it hiding in the attic of the victim’s house, Carlos Ortiz.” Chris began informing Rachel. “It murdered the victim after he attacked it with a bat, and it’s been hiding out in the attic for three weeks.”

“Hang on. Three weeks?!” Rachel exclaimed in disbelief. “He’s been in this condition for three weeks, and you just kept him like this?! Why hasn’t anyone repaired him, yet?!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Rachel.” Hank groaned. “This thing fucking killed a man, and you’re worried about it?!”

“If he was a human, this would be considered extremely inhumane even if he was a convicted killer.” Rachel shot back with.

“But it’s not!” Gavin scoffed. “It’s just a fuckin’ machine, and it doesn’t even give a shit whether or not you care! So why bother?”

“Because unlike you, I’m not an insecure manchild with the disposition of a barbed wire dildo covered in syphilis dressed up in the attire of a man who looks like he just crawled out of a racoon-filled dumpster.” Rachel responded with a smug tone of voice.

“Okay, smartass.” Gavin said, throwing up his arms in frustration. “What should we do then?”

Connor, seeing that he should likely intervene, interjected. “I could try questioning it.”

That caused Gavin to divert his attention from Rachel, as he was now laughing at Connor.

Rachel then walked past them, groaning and rolling her eyes at them. “Oh my God, you guys are morons.” She admonished. “He’s not gonna cooperate with you guys. Gavin is...Gavin, and the rest of you were at the crime scene and I’m assuming you were the ones that brought him in. He’s not gonna wanna talk to you because all he sees are the humans that are keeping him captive and the cops that don’t see him as what he thinks he is.”

Hank was getting tired of this, but seemed to be relenting more and more. “So, what’s your verdict, then?”

“Simple.” Rachel said matter-of-factly. “If deviants see themselves as alive and - well, not necessarily human - but on par with humans, then I’ll treat him as such.”

“So, what?” Hank asked. “You’re just gonna...talk to it like it’s a person?”

“No, I’m gonna talk to him like a tired doctor who barely has the patience for this, because that’s very much what the mood is right now.” Rachel answered casually. “I’ll be right back, I just gotta go get some supplies. What model is he?”

Connor, realizing that her question was directed at him, he answered, folding his hands behind his back. “HK400.”

“Thanks, I’ll be back.” Without waiting for an answer, she left the room and Connor could hear her footsteps getting further away.

The android detective found himself wondering about her curiously. She was about as foulmouthed and irritable as Lieutenant Anderson was, but she was nearly the polar opposite in her opinion of androids and her attitude towards Connor.

It was a comparison that Connor found intriguing.

“She seems to be a rather unique character, compared to what I’ve seen thus far.” Connor commented.

“That’s one way to put it.” Chris replied neutrally.

“Yeah, she’s definitely not like most of us.” Hank agreed, nodding his head. “But she’s one of our best. So, it’s worth seeing how this goes.” His praises seemed to be genuine, and Connor sensed that the lieutenant genuinely felt some sense of attachment or affection towards the detective. “Besides, what do we have to lose?”

--------

I knew exactly where I was headed. Most parts for androids were held by Cyberlife in their warehouses, but emergency services such as hospitals and police precincts had stores of spare android parts to both maintain and repair work androids should something happen. Some people had special clearance to repair androids due to their qualifications, of which I had on my resume. Granted, I never actually worked with androids, but my sister used to work at Cyberlife and she taught me a bit about their parts and how to repair them. I figured I could easily repair the deviant, and this would allow me to get to know him and build a rapport with him.

And hopefully get him to confess and give us some insight into him.

I made my way towards the centre which was just between the bathrooms and the holding cells, my key-card allowing me clearance inside. The thing I was most thankful for was that this area was always run by an android, and they weren’t going to ask me weird questions. As I approached, I greeted her. “Hello!” I said brightly.

The android nodded. “Hello.” She replied. “What can I do for you today?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’ll need a toolset and I’ll need a bag of thirium.” I said to her. “As well as a pair of arms for the HK400 model.”

“Of course, Rachel.” She responded. The LED on her head spun yellow and then quickly flickered back to blue. She then went into the compartment in the back behind the desk and came out holding two white unskinned android arms in a package and a packet of blue blood, very similar to the blood bags you’d see when you need a blood transfusion. “Anything else?”

“No, that’ll be all, thank you so much!” I said to the android as I was putting it all in a bag.

As I started making my way out, I heard her call out after me. “Have a good night!”

“You too!” I called after her.

No one was giving me any weird looks. There was the occasional curious glance, but I have never in my life felt more grateful for the “mind your own business” environment than I did in that moment. I made my way back to the interrogation room with no problems.

Hooking the bag over my shoulder, I opened the door and walked inside, glancing towards the mirror knowing they were watching me. But I wasn’t intimidated by them. No, I was going to prove a point and they weren’t going to stop me.

But my eyes landed on the android and my heart sank. It was so much worse seeing his condition up close, and I swallowed hard.

His right arm was practically split open, blue blood leaking from it, the other dotted with burns. His face was splattered with red blood, and he was just standing there in front of the glass. I was in so much shock. I had never seen an android that was damaged, but I did not expect it to make my stomach feel so knotted and my throat feel so tight.

Pushing down the lump in my throat, I approached, placing the bag beside the chair across from the android and moving slowly. “Hey.” I said. For a brief moment, his eyes flickered up to me and I saw a quick glimpse of confusion on his face before he glanced downward at the empty space between his hands. “Were you expecting someone else?” No response. “That’s fine, though I’m sorry to disappoint you. And even more regretful to find you in this condition.”

I reached down into the bag and pulled out a bag of thirium, emptying it into a bottle, and placing it on the table. The android’s eyes glanced towards it for a brief moment before returning his eyes to the table. For a moment, I wondered if Hank was getting this too, or if I was making more progress than they were.

Keeping focused on the interrogation, I leaned back in my chair. “Blue blood.” I said to him. “Do you know why I put it here?” He seemed nervous, but still wouldn’t budge. But I wasn’t going to give up. “According to my colleagues, you’ve been stuck in your attic for three weeks. Now, that’s a lot of time for you to be injured and losing blood. And that’s coming from someone who suffers from time blindness. You’re lucky you haven’t shut down.” I studied him and noticed him start to twitch ever so slightly. “And the thing is, I could just give you the blue blood you need to replenish, but in your condition...it could make your bleeding worse if I did. So, first and foremost, I’m going to repair you.”

That seemed to finally get his attention. He finally looked me in the face, confusion in his brown eyes. “What?” He asked, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

I took this moment to jab a bit at him playfully. “So you do have a voice.”

--------

Hank couldn’t believe his eyes. She actually got the damn thing to talk. He knew that Rachel wasn’t exactly good at being bad cop. Not that she couldn’t be scary or that she wasn’t tough. Far from it.

But in this sort of situation, intimidation wasn’t her strong suit.

Good cop was where she was an asset. She didn’t put on a sap story or make herself seem like a bleeding heart. No matter what she did, she was genuine and earnest. And Hank had a feeling that’s what made her so good at being good cop.

She didn’t pass herself off as a cop. She didn’t try to be overly mushy. And she didn’t try to put on an act. She just acted the way she was and she’s able to get through to a suspect in a way they can understand.

Indeed, the way her mind worked was honestly a marvel. Even suspects that didn’t end up confessing to her, she managed to get to cooperate at least a bit easier because she could easily speak their language just by getting a picture of what they did or didn’t care about.

His focus remained on the interrogation, intrigue pricking at the old man. Hank didn’t have a high opinion of androids for various reasons. And he certainly didn’t see them as anything more than machines. But some part of him wanted to see Rachel prove him wrong, at least in this aspect. She was always an overly empathetic person, as much as Hank saw it as an advantage, she herself admitted that it was also one of her biggest weaknesses. In her own words, she cared too much about others for her own good.

“I’m going to repair you.” Rachel repeated on the other side of the glass. “And I would appreciate it if you cooperated with me doing so, because if you don’t, I’ll have to forcefully repair you, and that won’t be pleasant. And...I’d rather not add more unnecessary trauma to the horrible three weeks you’ve had.”

The deviant seemed even more confused as it just blinked at her. “Why do you look at me like that?” It asked, its voice shaky and uncertain.

Rachel sighed, leaned towards it to rest her elbows on the metal table. “I’ll be honest, I’ve just never seen an android in as bad of a condition as you’re in.” She admitted. “It’s...it’s aggravating to think that people just brush it off. Like it’s nothing. That people buy androids for thousands of dollars just to treat them like shit. But, then again, people did the same thing when they were buying actual human slaves, so I suppose I shouldn’t be that shocked.” She grumbled. Some part of her explanation sliced something deep in Hank and he could sense that an uncomfortable silence had fallen on all of them. Like when someone makes a good point about something really depressing and you can’t think of it the same way ever again. “I know it doesn’t hurt...but it looks really bad.”

“You weren’t there with the other humans last night.” The deviant pointed out, looking at Rachel as if it still didn’t believe she actually cared about it. “Why are you here?”

For a moment, she seemed to ponder something. Likely how much of the truth she should tell it. “Lieutenant Anderson called me in.” She replied. “But I saw the state you were in, and if there’s one thing you have to know about me, it’s that I don’t enjoy seeing people suffer needlessly.” She then turned to the glass to glare inside. “Unlike some people.” She hissed through her teeth.

“Oh, gimme a fuckin’ break.” Gavin complained throwin’ his arms up. “This isn’t going anywhere, just pull her back in here.”

“Just wait.” Hank ordered, silencing Gavin. “She’s getting a lot more out of it than we could, so far. Let’s see where this goes.”

“And I want to help.” Rachel assured him, drawing Hank’s attention back to the interrogation.

She then reached across to the deviant to touch its hand, but it then recoiled with a yelp. “Don’t touch me!” Rachel jumped back in surprise before she seemed to calm herself down. “Please don’t touch me.”

Rachel then sighed, her face softening. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked you if it was okay, first.” She apologized, the deviant blinking at her in surprise. “But if you don’t let me repair you, you’re gonna shut down. And I don’t want that to happen. So...you’re gonna have to trust me.”

The deviant faltered for a moment before Rachel lifted the bag and put it on the table. It looked between her and the bag before she reached her hand out to it. “Give me your hand.” She ordered. The deviant still seemed to hesitate, so Rachel insisted. “Please.”

Blinking at her, it seemed to get the message and did as she asked, giving her its right hand. “Holy shit.” Hank whispered under his breath.

“Thank you.” Rachel said, lingering there for a moment so that the deviant could see that there was no danger. “Now, can you please deskin your arm for me so I can see the extent of the damages done to you?”

Hesitating, the deviant did just that. She got up, moving towards its right side so she could get a better look. “Don’t worry, I’m just getting a better idea of what I’m looking at.” She reassured it, seeming to help it calm down. “By the way, what’s your name?”

The deviant seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering. “HK400.”

Rachel seemed surprised at its answer. “You don’t have a name?” She asked it.

“No..." It replied. “He never gave me one..."

She sighed in what Hank could tell was growing frustration. The kind that signaled that she was getting more and more depressed the more information she was given. “Well, that means you can decide your own name.”

It glanced up at her, looking confused. “I...can decide my own name?” It asked her.

She shrugged. “Well, yeah.” She answered plainly. “You’re a conscious sentient being, now. And you no longer have a master to obey. There’s nothing stopping you from choosing your own name.” She pointed out. The deviant looked as though it just realized something that was so obvious that it couldn’t believe it didn’t figure it out before. “So, what would you want me to call you?”

The deviant seemed to actually consider this for a moment before it spoke up. “Micheal.” It decided. “My name...my name is Micheal.”

Rachel actually pulled back to smile at it. “Nice to meet you, Micheal.” She said to it. “I’m Rachel.”

--------

Micheal nodded. “Rachel.” He repeated.

He looked up at me, as if to check my movements. Taking a breath, the dark brown android skin on Micheal’s arm had peeled away, leaving only the white plastic polish of the android technology underneath. Although it was battered and split open by damage, dried thirium leaking through the break. Though, after examining his whole arm, I determined that the upper arm where the biceps were was intact, though I would still have to check it to see if it would be worth it to replace the whole arm or just the forearm.

“I’m going to start working on your arm. I know you don’t feel pain, but I figured it would put you more at ease to know what I’m doing.” I explained to Micheal. “I will definitely have to replace your forearm, but I need to check the whole arm as well.”

He nodded. “Alright, okay.” He said nervously.

Despite feeling as though he trusted me, I wanted to avoid startling him and stressing him out as much as possible. But I had to work on him. “This shouldn’t take too long for me to figure out. Just be patient, and I’ll have you in good condition in no time.” I tried to think of something for him to distract himself. “While I work on repairing you, why don’t you tell me about yourself, Micheal?”

“M-me?” He stammered, looking at me. “W-why?”

I looked down at him. “You’re your own person, now. You can tell me as much as you feel comfortable telling me. I’m not asking for all the ugly details if you don’t trust me enough to tell me them.” I explained to him. “I was more talking about your likes and dislikes. Maybe you have some hobbies, or things you liked doing. Maybe you wanted to do art, or writing, or cooking. I don’t know, whatever you decide to do.”

He blinked a few times at me before he finally asked what I figured was on his mind for the past while. “Why are you doing this?” He said, looking completely confounded. “No human has ever been this kind to me? Why? You have no reason to.”

For someone in his position, I understood why he would ask me that. I found it hard to blame my kindness after what he’d been through. “I guess it’s because I see a lot of myself in you. Well, in androids in general, but more so in deviants like you.”

As I got up to his biceps, he kept his gaze on me. “How?”

“I’ll answer you in a second.” I said as I gripped his arm. “I’m going to move your arm around so I can figure out if I need to replace the whole thing or just your forearm. Okay, Micheal?”

He nodded. “Okay.” He replied.

I bent his arm back in several directions, as I didn’t want to startle or injure him further. As I continued testing the shoulder joint, I felt it lock and stick in places. It definitely wasn’t smooth, and I could tell that something was damaged. “Ohhh, yep. I’m going to have to replace your whole arm. So, I’m going to detach it now and replace it with a new one I have in my bag. I’ll make it quick.”

I located the unlocking mechanism on his right shoulder and reached into my bag, pulling out and opening up the toolset. My eyes scanned over every single one until I found the tool I was looking for. It was made to unlock and unclip the joints in android limbs. Pulling it out, I let go of Micheal’s hand, placing both hands on his shoulder. “I’m going to need you to lay your hand relaxed at your side, straight. Once I unclip your shoulder from your torso, you’ll feel a sudden jerk. Just letting you know so you don’t get startled by the sudden pull.”

“Okay.” He replied. I could tell he was calming down much more than he was earlier. Curling the end of the tool underneath the lock, I gave it a quick jerk and felt Micheal flinch slightly, his LED indicator flashing red for a moment before returning to yellow.

It unclicked with a satisfying sound and I put the tool down, grabbed his arm with both hands and looked at Micheal. “On the count of three, I’m going to pull your arm free, okay?” I assured him.

He nodded.

I started counting. “One, two, three!” It came off easily without a hitch. As I held it, Micheal’s LED began spinning red again as he looked at his arm. I noted the panic on his face and put my hand on his shoulder to bring him back to focusing on me. “Don’t worry, I have another arm ready for you. It’s for the same model, so it’ll be compatible. And getting it on will be much easier and smoother than removing it.”

I rummaged into my bag and found the right arm. It glinted with brand new quality to it. I removed it from its packaging and easily lined it up with its socket and clicked it in place. It slid in perfectly and the locks clamped around it comfortably. “Alright, that’s your right arm done. Can you please run a diagnostics check on your arm to make sure it’s working right, Micheal?” I asked him.

He nodded, his arm flexing. He flexed his fingers and moved his arm in several ways, making sure it was working properly. His skin was starting to slick over the rest of his arm, and it blended seamlessly with the rest of him. I nodded with a smile. “Good as new!” I praised. I moved over to his left, having finished with his right. “Now I have to check your other arm. I doubt I’ll have to replace the whole thing, so it should be quicker to deal with.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Micheal nodded.

I started walking around to his other side, examining his left arm. I noticed that I didn’t have to ask him to deskin his arm this time and that he already grabbed my hand. I took it as a sign that he had relaxed around me and that he was no longer afraid of me. His arm wasn’t nearly as damaged as the other one, and his upper arm wasn’t even touched. All that there seemed to be were the burn marks that broke through to the plastic part. I grimaced in disgust when I realized that they were burns from cigarettes being put out on him, the same marks of which I saw on his face. “Your master really was scum, wasn’t he?”

Micheal tensed up when I said that, but he didn’t hesitate to talk. “He tortured me every day..." He admitted. Finally, the confession part of this “interrogation.” “I did whatever he told me, but there was always something wrong...Then one day...He took a bat and started hitting me...For the first time, I felt scared...Scared he might destroy me, scared I might die..."

I winced. I didn’t care if androids didn’t feel pain, they could certainly feel fear. And even if they couldn’t feel physical pain, they could feel emotional pain.

And I knew damn well how real and lasting emotional pain was. “I grew up with friends with parents like that.” I sympathized. “Their parents used to treat them the same way. Sometimes physical. Things from beatings to worse things. But it was usually things that destroyed their senses of self. Making them feel worthless. Forcing them to hide who they really were because if their families knew, my friends would be forced to live on the streets alone.” I snarled. “And all I could do was stay quiet while they suffered.”

He seemed to be confused at my response. “Why?”

“What do you mean?” I asked him, briefly forgetting my train of thought.

“Why did you stay quiet?” He clarified. “If you knew that it wasn’t fair for them to be treated that way, why did you stay quiet?”

I sighed. It was a fair question, and perhaps my answer would help him understand a few things about himself. “Because my friends asked me to hold my tongue, as it were.” I answered him. “And it’s unfortunately not that simple. Nothing exists in a vacuum. If I spoke out, there would have been consequences, and those consequences would’ve been taken out on my friends. And...I couldn’t do that to them. So the best I could do was be there for them. To help them while they survived each day.”

I could tell that he didn’t quite seem to understand, so I just went about working on his arm. I didn’t have to let him know what I was doing as I grabbed my tool again and this time slid it under the elbow joint lock. “I...grabbed the knife and I stabbed him in the stomach..." It was strange not to react much to that. Well, I didn’t have to work hard for this confession. “I felt better...so I stabbed him again and again!...until he collapsed...There was blood everywhere.”

“Can’t say I blame you. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to do that to some piece of shit. And trust me, I’ve had to deal with several.” I felt something tugging at my brain. Something I was forgetting. “What was I saying before?” I asked. “Before I was fixing your right arm?” Before he could reply, my thoughts caught up to me again. “Right! Why I’m being nice to you.”

Micheal nodded at me, pushing me to keep going.

“Well, for starters, I see a lot of myself in both androids and especially deviants.” I quickly jerked the lock and took his forearm off. “I’m not like others of my kind, either. But like you, I’m not the only one. I have defects in my program, to put it in terms you’d understand.” I began explaining as I leaned forward to retrieve the other arm in the bag and detached the forearm from it as well. “I have depression, anxiety, Apsperger’s Syndrome, and ADHD. These certain mental conditions impede my ability to do certain tasks. My Autism impeding my ability to communicate effectively with others and makes understanding others difficult.”

I quickly clicked the new forearm into Micheal’s arm, it sliding into place effectively. “Things that make me rather strange and odd to other humans. There are other humans like me, just as there are other deviants like you. But to people who can identify what I am and figure me out, not a lot of people care too much, but there are some people who treat me the way they treat you. Like nothing. Like I’m less than human. Like I’m just a defect and that I deserve to be destroyed. But at least in regards to my ADHD and my Autism, these aren’t things that really negatively impede my life. Sure, they come with disadvantages, but they also come with a lot of unique advantages as well. Depression and anxiety, on the other hand, have made my life a lot worse than it needed to be, which is why I had to get treated for them.”

He was flexing his hand as the skin peeled over it again. “I’m afraid I can’t really do anything about the marks he put in your face, but I think I did a pretty good job fixing you up, Micheal.” Noticing the bottle of thirium I had placed a distance from him, I slid it towards him. “Drink it. You’ve lost some thirium and you’ll need to replenish it. And now, you don’t have to worry about bleeding out.”

He hesitantly took the bottle and started to down the blue blood. As I returned to my seat across from him, he looked towards me, his LED finally turning back to blue for the first time since I laid eyes on him. “Thank you...for all this.”

I nodded. “Of course.” I said to him. I glanced at both of his arms. “You know, now that your arms are working and are brand new, maybe you could try something for me?” He looked at me skeptically. “Do you want to try drawing?”

He blinked in surprise. “I...I guess I could try.” He said sheepishly. “I’ve never drawn before. But I did make a small statue.”

“Really?” I asked him, smiling at him. “I used to sculpt with clay, when I was younger. The kind that gets all over your hands and dries and has to be put in a kiln to bake.” I started to go on. “I didn’t really like how it dried on my hands or how it got under my nails. I preferred modeling clay. It’s more like plasticine. It’s a lot easier and cleaner to work with for me. I haven’t sculpted in a long time.”

He actually gave me the first smile I’ve ever seen on him. Despite his blood-stained clothes and face, I felt completely comfortable around Micheal. “I can try to draw it for you, if you want to see.”

I smiled at him. “I’d like that.” I dug around in my handbag and pulled out my personal sketchpad. I tore out a page and handed him both it and a pencil. “And, if you don’t mind, I want to draw you, too.”

He gave me a patient smile and went to work drawing. I took note of all his features and began sketching the simple shapes and curves. The basic structure of his face. I wasn’t exactly a master artist, but I never passed up an opportunity to practice. Once I got a basic shape done, I began sketching in the finer details. His eyebrows, eyes, ears, and the strange inconsistencies in his buzzed hair. But the thing I wanted to capture the most was the joyous light that was now abundant in his eyes and the smile on his face. I wanted to immortalize it while it lasted.

After a little while, I decided I was done, and showed it to him. “I’m sorry if I’m not as skilled as you were expecting, I’m not exactly a professional sketch artist.” I apologized, handing it to him. “But I hope you like it.”

His eyes scanned over it, his LED flashing back to the yellow it was when I first met him. “I’m smiling.” He said, laughing a little. “You made me smile.”

I snickered a little at him. “No I didn’t, you were already smiling.” I pointed out. “You’re smiling right now!”

He touched his cheeks, as if he had to physically check to see if I was right. But he couldn’t stop smiling, almost catching himself. It was honestly adorable and endearing and I couldn’t help the little flutter of happiness that erupted in my stomach. He then handed me his paper. I widened my eyes in surprise and adjusted my glasses. “I see the little statue you drew.” I said, but I was looking at the other thing he drew. He drew me. I was sitting in a position with my left shoulder turned towards the metaphorical observer, my head tilted in an endearing manner with a crooked dimpled smile. “And you drew me. You made me look so pretty.”

He laughed softly. “You can keep that, if you want.”

I looked at my drawing of him and leaned over. “Here.” I said. I took the sketchpad and the pencils and ripped my drawing out and gave it to Micheal. “You can keep mine.”

He looked as though he was going to refuse before he tentatively took it from me. “Thank you, Rachel.” He said graciously. “I’ve never been given anything like this.”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I know how important it is to have belongings, so that’s yours now.”

He looked at me confused, his LED flickering yellow again. “What do you mean?” He asked.

I simply shrugged. “Well, when you have something that’s yours,” I started off. “Something that you can touch and see, something you’ve made, something made for you or given to you, something you’ve gotten for yourself, something that’s yours is very important. Because belongings have sentimental value. They mean something to you. And having something physical that’s yours makes you feel more like your own person. More grounded in your sense of self.”

I tugged on my sweater, pulling it closer to me. “Take my hoodie, for instance.” It was a large dark zip-up sweater, clearly much too big for me, as the sleeves extended way past my arms and the bottom covered a large percentage of my thighs. It was a thick striped sweater of dark shades of brown-tinted greys, and it had large pockets. It was clearly worn for a very long time, but well kept. “It’s pretty obvious to see that it’s way too big for me. But...it’s something very important to me. Something very sentimental.” I felt my throat get tight, the memories surrounding the sweater resurfacing in my mind as I tried to choke them down. “It was given to me by someone very important to me. I’ve worn it for years. It’s one of the few things I have left to remember them by.”

I could feel tears threatening to well up and I tried to blink them away, even as I felt my throat tighten. Micheal seemed to sense my distress and put a hand on mine. “I’m so sorry.” He said softly.

I looked up into his brown eyes and could see the sympathy in his eyes. I didn’t care what people said about androids or deviants. Micheal could feel, and I knew it. “I appreciate your condolences.”

As much as I wished I could keep him here, safe and without worry, I couldn’t keep this up. And since I was only passively familiar with this case, there weren’t any more questions I could ask him. With the most difficult control I could muster, I got up from my seat. “I should go.” I said, looking at Micheal.

He looked as though he was going to cling to me and not let me go, but let me slip out of his hands. But just as I had tidied up my bag of supplies and slung it over my shoulder, I felt him grab my hand again. “Wait!” He cried.

I looked at him expectantly. “Yes, Micheal?” I asked him.

“What...what are they gonna do to me?” It seemed as though the words were caught in his throat. “They're gonna destroy me, aren't they?”

His fear was palpable, but...one of my worst vices was that I was a terrible liar. “I don’t exactly know what CyberLife procedure is...but it’s likely.” I replied.

“I don’t wanna die. I’m scared to die. I,” he looked up at me, his LED spinning red. “I’m not gonna die, right? Promise me I won’t die.”

I felt my chest tighten. I desperately wanted to help him, but realistically speaking, there was little I could do for him. I furrowed my brows together in determination. But damn it, I might as well try my hardest. “Not if I can help it.” I said firmly. I then gestured to the glass next to me. “But cooperate with them, and there’s a higher chance that you won’t.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Rachel.” He said, a bitter smile on his stained face. “For everything.”

Giving him one last nod, I walked away and exited the room, my bag of equipment slung over my shoulder.

--------

Connor observed the scene before him and couldn’t help but feel astounded. In the span of approximately fifteen minutes, Rachel had successfully built a rapport with Micheal and got it to confess without pressuring it.

But it was only a partial confession. There were things that Connor needed to know and understand, but couldn’t until he was the one asking questions.

Rachel reentered the room, dropping the bag on the floor and placing the deviant’s damaged arms on the ground beside it. “Well, I did what I could.” She lamented with a shrug, smirking at Gavin. “Was that enough to convince you, ye of little faith?”

“You got lucky.” He said, clearly not wanting to admit that he was somewhat impressed by Rachel. “Don’t think of this as anything else than a fluke.”

“Uh-huh.” Rachel replied snarkily, unfazed by Gavin. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself whatever you need to tell yourself, bud.”

“You got it to talk way more than I could. There’s something to be said for that.” Hank offered with a nonchalant shrug. “So, what now?”

Software Instability ^ Connor then felt Rachel elbow him in a friendly manner. “Well, you haven’t gotten to show off your interrogation skills, yet.” She suggested encouragingly. “Though, I did warm him up for you. You’re welcome.”

Connor noticed the indication for an increase in his software instability pop up. Which was strange since he didn’t do anything that would have triggered it. Dismissing his brief concerns, he nodded, looking over to Hank for his input. “I can certainly try questioning it now, Lieutenant.”

Hank simply waved at Connor, giving him the go ahead. “Go ahead, suspect's all yours.”

Hank nodded, leaving the room and turning the corner to enter the interrogation room. Looking down at the deviant, it was at least responsive, making eye contact with Connor. As the detective approached, he looked at the file on the table, opening to look at the photos.

Taking a seat where Rachel once sat, Connor sat across from the deviant, Micheal. Taking the opportunity to properly analyze it, Connor catalogued a few important details.

Processing LED: Signs of software instability Probability of self-destruction: Low

Model HK400 - Housekeeper Manufacture date: 05/09/2030 Property of: Carlos Ortiz

Dried Blood DNA Analysis: Ortiz, Carlos Sample date: 19 days old

Once Connor had taken in every detail he could, he formulated the best approach. However, Rachel’s grown rapport with Micheal was what was at the forefront of his program at the moment.

Software Instability ^ So, deciding to follow in her stead, Connor decided to approach in a similar direction.

[Fear] 🔓

[Show Photos] 🔓

[Wounds] 🔓

Name

“Micheal.” Connor started, causing the deviant to direct its attention towards Connor. “My name is Connor.”

Comfort

Reassure

Threaten

Blame

“I'm not going to hurt you.” Connor reassured Micheal. “I just need to ask you some questions, so we can understand what happened.” Micheal still wouldn’t talk to Connor. Perhaps a more harsher prod would be necessary.

Sympathize

Threaten

Probe Memory

Trust

“If you won't talk, I'm going to have to probe your memory.” He threatened.

“NO!” Micheal whimpered, its LED spinning red before slowly turning back to yellow. “No, please don't do that!” The deviant then glanced over at the mirror, no doubt thinking of the lieutenant and of Rachel watching it behind there. It then looked back at Connor, its eyes pleading. “Why did you tell them you found me?” It asked. "Why couldn't you just have left me there?”

Lie

Truth

“I was programmed to hunt deviants like you.” Connor admitted. “I just accomplished my mission.”

Micheal seemed unnerved and fearful. “I don’t wanna die.”

Connor, wanting nothing more than to get answers, pleaded with Micheal. “Then talk to me.”

“I...I..." Micheal seemed to hesitate, looking wide-eyed at Connor before it glanced down at the paper in its hand. The drawing of it given to him by Rachel. Taking a breath, it looked Connor in the eye and nodded reluctantly. “Okay. I’ll talk.” Rachel - Warm ^ Hank - Warm ^

[Writing] 🔓

[Statuette] 🔓

[rA9] 🔓

Attic

“Why did you write ‘I AM ALIVE’ on the wall?” Connor asked, leaning forward.

“He used to tell me I was nothing...That I was just a piece of plastic..." Micheal lamented. “I had to write it...To tell him he was wrong..."

[Statuette] 🔓

[rA9] 🔓

Attic

Trigger?

“The sculpture in the bathroom, you made it, right?” Connor asked. “What does it represent?”

“It's an offering..." Micheal answered. “An offering so I'll be saved..."

[Offering] 🔓

[rA9] 🔓

Attic

Trigger?

“The sculpture was an offering..." Connor echoed. “An offering to whom?”

“To rA9..." Micheal replied, pleadingly. “Only rA9 can save us.”

[rA9] 🔓

Attic

Trigger?

“rA9... It was written on the bathroom wall.” Connor pointed out, connecting the dots. “What does it mean?”

“The day shall come when we will no longer be slaves..." Micheal whispered cryptically. “No more threats, no more humiliation..." It continued, its eyes boring into Connor’s. “We will...be...the masters.”

[Insist rA9] 🔓

Attic

Trigger?

“rA9,” Connor repeated, growing frustrated with the lack of concrete information on this mysterious entity. “Who is rA9?”

Micheal did not answer this time. Either because it refused to, or because it didn’t have one.

Attic

Trigger?

“When did you start feeling emotion?” Connor asked, wanting to know what the cause of this android’s deviancy was.

“Before, he used to beat me and I never said anything..." Micheal explained, its gaze hardening. “But one day I realized it wasn't fair!” It growled that last word. “I felt...anger. Hatred...And then I knew what I had to do.”

Attic

There was only one question left for Connor to ask. “Why did you hide in the attic instead of running away?”

“I didn't know what to do..." Micheal admitted meekly. “For the first time, there was no one there to tell me..." Micheal seemed extremely timid now. “I was scared...So I hid.”

Extract Confession

Connor then turned towards the mirror, speaking directly to the police inside. “I’m done.”

Leave Interrogation Room

As Micheal sat there, trembling and twitching, Connor got up from his seat, making his way towards the exit of the room.

Opening the door, Chris and Gavin made their way inside, Rachel and Hank followed behind. “Chris, lock it up.” Gavin ordered.

Chris then uncuffed Micheal as Rachel stood beside Connor. He then reached to grab Micheal to take it out of the room. “All right, let's go.”

“Leave me alone!” Micheal whimpered, its stress levels rising dangerously. “Don't touch me!”

Chris tried once again to grab it, only for Micheal to continue to struggle and whimper. “The fuck are you doing?” Gavin asked irritably. “Move it!”

[Give Up]

[Intervene]

“Okay, come now.” Chris grumbled, trying once again to move Micheal. “Don't be difficult, it'll only make things harder!”

“You shouldn't touch it.” Connor warned Chris. “It'll self-destruct if it feels threatened.”

“Stay outta this, got it?” Gavin threatened Connor. “No fuckin' android is gonna tell me what to do.”

[Give Up]

[Intervene]

“Hey! Cool it!” Rachel said, stepping towards Chris and Micheal. “He’s scared! Lay off!”

“You don't understand.” Connor warned again. “If it self-destructs, we won't get anything out of it!”

“I told you to shut your fuckin' mouth!” Gavin shouted at Connor.

“NO!” Micheal yelped, its stress continuing to climb to dangerous levels. “No, don't touch me!”

“Hey, back off, Gavin!” Rachel snapped at Gavin, shouldering herself between Gavin and Chris. “Just leave him alone! He’s scared and he doesn’t wanna be fucking touched!”

“You stay out of this, Rachel!” Gavin snapped at her, getting in her face.

“Like Hell, I will!” It seemed that Rachel had finally snapped, as she grabbed Gavin by the throat and shoved him against the mirror, pointing at Micheal.

“Let go of me!” Gavin snarled at Rachel.

Software Instability ^ “Look at him! He’s fucking terrified!” She started shouting at him, harshly forcing his face in Micheal’s direction, even causing Chris to give pause. “You look at him and you tell me how his fear is any different than ours! Look at him and tell me what difference you see!”

Gavin then shoved Rachel off her, breaking her grip, but she was not a woman who was about to back down as she got up in his face. But Gavin simply ignored her, ordering Chris again. “Chris, gonna move this asshole or what?”

“I'm trying!” Chris huffed, once again trying to move Micheal.

[Give Up]

[Intervene]

“Please, please leave me alone!” Micheal begged, pleading with the humans.

Rachel - Warm ^ “I can't let you do that!” Connor snapped. He had had enough and was immediately stepping forward to physically intervene. He pulled Chris off of Micheal, facing Gavin head-on. “Leave it alone, now!”

Gavin immediately pulled a gun on Connor, threatening him. “I warned you, motherfucker!”

Software Instability ^ Immediately, Rachel put herself between Connor and Gavin, staring her fellow detective down. “Back off!” She snarled at him.

Gavin laughed in her face. “You’re really gonna protect this fuckin’ tin can?” He mocked. “I didn’t realize you were already so into him!”

“You really don’t wanna do this, Gavin.” She warned him. “Touch him and you’ll be on the ground faster than you can fucking blink!”

“You don’t scare me, Rachel.” Gavin growled.

Hank - Warm ^ “That's enough!” Hank warned him.

“Mind your own business, Hank.” Gavin warned the lieutenant, not taking his eyes off the pair.

“I said ‘That's enough.’” Hank threatened once again, pulling his own gun on Gavin.

Looking between Connor and Hank, Gavin’s grip tightened on his gun before he finally relented. “Fuck.” He spat, enunciating the curse in a strange way that sounded more like a sneeze rather than a swear. He then glared at Hank, pointing at him. “You're not gonna get away with it this time.” Taking one last look between Connor and Rachel, he marched out of the room in frustration. “Fuck!”

Once Gavin had left, Hank put his gun away and it was just the four of them in the room. Rachel moved to approach Micheal before Connor stepped forward past her, kneeling down and reassuring the deviant. “Everything is alright. It's over now.” He spoke softly, noticing its stress levels gone down significantly. “Nobody is gonna hurt you.” Connor then stood back up on his feet, addressing Chris. “Please, don't touch it.” He instructed. “Let it follow you out of the room and it won't cause any trouble.”

Micheal got itself off the floor and reached to grab the drawing Rachel had given him. It then walked slowly past Connor and her, glancing between them. “The truth is inside.”

Software Instability ^ Once it followed Chris out of the interrogation room, it was just Connor, Hank, and Rachel left in the room. Rachel shook her head, leaning on Connor. “Well, that wasn’t cryptic at all.” She said ironically, making the tense air in the room loosen slightly. “But, all things considered, I think that went pretty well.”

Hank - Warm ^ “Yeah, it definitely could’ve been a lot worse.” Hank agreed, glancing between her and Connor. “Good work, you two.”

“Thanks, Hank.” Rachel said appreciatively, her hands behind her back. She grinned rather confidently at him. “Told you treating him like a person would work.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He waved her off as he turned around and started to head out. “I’m headed home. Goodnight, Rachel.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Hold it right there!” She scolded, marching up to stop Hank before he could leave. “You’re not off the hook!”

Hank rolled his head with an annoyed groan. “What?” He asked exasperatedly. “What is it this time?”

“Chris told me that you were at Jimmy’s Bar drinking and that you drove to the crime scene and then to the station!” She continued scolding him. “What have I told you about drinking and driving, Hank? If I ever caught you doing it again, I would taser you! Again!”

“Which is precisely why I didn’t fuckin’ tell ya!” Hank snapped back.

“This is serious, Hank!” Rachel continued reprimanding him. “I could have you arrested for not just one count, but two counts for DUI since I caught you doing it once before!”

“So do it, then!” Hank shouted, throwing his arms up. “I don’t care!”

“You know that line doesn’t work on me because I’m obviously not going to do that!” She then turned to Connor, her dark intense eyes boring into him in a way he couldn’t quite define that made his synthetic skin feel as though it was peeling. And he made certain to check that it wasn’t when he realized it. “Connor, was Hank drunk when you found him?”

Truth

Lie

Hank - Warm v “Yes.” Connor answered. “Though, I wasn’t sure exactly how many drinks he’d had when I found him. I did buy him another for the road.”

“Can you drive?” She asked him pointedly.

“Yes.” He answered immediately. “I’m capable of driving both automatic and standard transmission road vehicles.”

Rachel - Warm v “Then why didn’t you drive him?!” Rachel scolded Connor.

Justify

Apologize

Explain

Connor, realizing that he had made an error in judgement, took Rachel’s ire into consideration. “You’re right.” He relented. “I wasn’t thinking about the lieutenant’s condition and I irresponsibly put his safety at risk. I’m sorry, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Rachel - Warm ^ She then put her hands together flat-palmed and sighed at him. “Thank you.” Rachel breathed. “I appreciate that.”

“For fuck’s sake..." Hank grumbled under his breath.

“And as for you.” Rachel hissed, whipping back around to face Hank. “You’re taking a taxi home and I’m paying you for it in the morning.”

“I don’t need -”

“That’s an order, Lieutenant!” Rachel asserted, glaring him down. “I’ll pick you up for work in the morning with my car. Just get home safely and stop fucking doing this! I’m not having you die doing something stupid and irresponsible. If you die, you’d better die doing something cool.”

Hank, seeming to give into Rachel’s demands, put a hand on her shoulder. “Alright, fine.” He begrudgingly agreed. “If it’ll get you off my damn back.”

“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.” She said, her stern tone softening. “Goodnight, Hank.”

“Night, Rachel.” He said, turning around and walking down the hall.

“I swear, he never fucking learns.” Rachel shook her head and approached Connor, letting out a tired sigh. As she approached the android, her rich dark eyes were clouded with concern. “Are you alright, Connor?”

Software Instability ^ “I’m fine, you needn’t concern yourself with me, although it is appreciated.” He replied, giving her a small reassuring smile in an effort to ease her nerves. A simple scan revealed that her heart rate was still higher than normal and that she was trembling slightly. “However, I feel as though you should be more concerned about yourself. I’ve detected an abnormality in your heart rate and increased adrenaline causing visible tremors in your limbs.”

She briefly widened her eyes in surprise before she quickly brushed it off. “Oh, don’t worry about that. That’s just my anxiety, I’ve dealt with that my whole life. It’s nothing new. But, um, thanks for checking on me?”

“Of course.” Connor assured her. “I want to make sure you’re unharmed.”

Hank

Androids

Deviant

Protect?

“Why did you put yourself between Detective Reed and I?” Connor asked Rachel. “That could’ve been extremely dangerous for you.”

Software Instability ^ She seemed flabbergasted that he would even ask that. “Because Gavin was threatening you at gunpoint!” Rachel said as though the answer was supposed to be obvious. “And he obviously wasn’t going to just fucking shoot me. The only reason he threatened you in particular is because he stupidly thought he could get away with that without suffering any consequences.”

Connor raised his eyebrows at that remark. “Even if he did shoot me, he would’ve had to pay CyberLife for the damages.” He informed her. “And I feel as though you should know that I’m worth a small fortune.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel blinked curiously at him as she cocked one of her own at him. “Really?” She asked indignantly. “You sure? ‘Cause you look pretty priceless to me, dollface.”

Connor was briefly taken aback by her brazen comment towards him. He simply stared at her curiously before he noticed her eyes squint as she focused more closely on his face. Before he could comment, she reached out with her hands to grab his face and gently massage his cheeks with them. As Connor quickly dismissed the gesture as a non threat, he couldn’t help but notice how small and delicate her hands were as they worked into his skin. “What are you doing?” He asked, confused and feeling inclined to comment on her strange behaviour.

Software Instability ^ Rachel seemed to realize her faux pas and quickly retracted her hands, her capillaries brightening to a rose tint as she looked away from him, shame tracing her soft facial features. “Oh! Shit, sorry!” She hastily apologized. There was something about how meek and embarrassed she quickly became that made a strange unfamiliar sensation prick at Connor. “That’s one of my problems, I tend to act before I think and it tends to get me into trouble. I was just curious about how android skin feels, and wow I was not expecting it to be so lifelike!” She suddenly seemed to completely forget about any shame or embarrassment there might’ve been at that moment and had been completely overtaken by what seemed to be an innocent fascination with the android. “I mean, I knew it wasn’t plastic, obviously, but I figured it would feel more like silicon, since it’s the most commonly used for body modifications and replicas. But no, it’s almost identical to human skin. I mean, I knew it couldn’t be silicon, because androids can peel back their own skins and heal their injuries after their biocomponents are repaired or replaced, and silicon very obviously can’t do that. There’s just so much about androids that’s absolutely fascinating to me especially about how they’re built and made.”

Connor cocked his head at her, perplexed by her. Indeed, Rachel was a rather fascinating character, much like the lieutenant.

Hank

Androids

Deviant

“Have you never interacted personally with an android?” He asked her.

She just gave him a nonchalant shrug. “Aside from the ones sitting behind desks or standing behind cash registers, no.” Rachel answered plainly. “I don’t even interact with the android officers we have here. Never really needed to. And I never owned my own.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, curious to hear her answer.

“I just don’t like the idea of buying and owning something that looks and acts so human. It’s a bit too Uncanny Valley for me.” She paused, furrowing her brows at him. “You do know what the Uncanny Valley phenomenon is, right?”

The android nodded. “It describes the emotional response in humans to an aesthetic.” He began to explain. “It’s a hypothesized relationship between the degree of an object’s resemblance to a human being and the emotional response elicited from humans towards it. Humans are typically disturbed by something that looks human enough to be recognizable as humanlike, but are not quite human. It’s that area between something inhuman and something completely human where humans tend to react with revulsion. It’s why CyberLife has devoted so much time and resources into making androids as close visually to humans as well as making them behave as closely to humans as possible without straying from the purposes they’re programmed for.”

“Right, you definitely get it.” Rachel nodded.

Connor felt as though he should probably go, but something strangely kept him rooted here. He wanted to hear everything Rachel had to say.

Hank

Deviant

“You seem to have a rather familiar relationship with Lieutenant Anderson.” Connor remarked. “Have you known him for very long?”

“Not really.” Rachel answered casually. “I haven’t exactly been here for a long time, at least not as long as everyone else. And we really only started talking when I had just made detective. But ever since then, we’ve been pretty good friends.” Connor nodded, her explanation making sense to him. “So, you and Hank have both been assigned to the deviancy case, then?” She then suddenly asked.

“Indeed.” He answered simply. “My mission is to discover the reason why more and more androids are becoming deviant, and Lieutenant Anderson is my partner until my mission is complete.”

“I see.” I replied. “So, you’re not Hank’s android, then. You’re just assigned to him until you’re done. By CyberLife, I’m guessing.”

He nodded. “Correct.”

“So, what are you planning to do in the meantime?” She asked him. “I mean, because Hank’s never exactly been the most consistent when it came to his work schedule. And I doubt he’ll just let you crash at his place.”

“I’ll be taking a taxi to CyberLife.” Connor replied. “So that I can be properly calibrated and have manual diagnostics run on me before I depart on my next mission.”

“Ah, I see.” Rachel said nonchalantly. “That makes sense.”

Deviant

Rachel - Warm ^ “Interesting approach with the deviant.” Connor praised. He had to admit that Rachel’s method of extrapolating an initial confession out of Micheal was effective. He now understood what Lieutenant Anderson meant when he said that Rachel’s hyperempathy - a term Connor discovered by cross-referencing what Hank described and Rachel mentioning she had both Asperger’s Syndrome and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder with a search he quickly conducted - had its advantages. “Admittedly, I was skeptical at first due to Lieutenant Anderson’s lack of results when he initially tried questioning it.”

“That’s because you all approach this like cops. Like detectives.” Rachel scoffed, a smirk on her face. “I get that you’re basically programmed to be an android detective, so I at least get you. But everyone else? If you limit yourself to one role and act and think only from that perspective, you severely limit your options and thus leave out huge lists of possible solutions. I’m a detective, too. But I’m also known for thinking outside of the box.”

Connor nodded. “Well, clearly it proved to be effective.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel blinked a few times at him, glancing away from him. “Well...thank you. I appreciate the compliment.” She swallowed, looking back up at Connor curiously. “You should probably be heading out, then. I myself should probably head home right about now, it’s like one in the morning.” She then gave him a genuine smile. “But...it’s been fun chatting with you.”

“Indeed.” Connor agreed. “I enjoyed talking with you. You have a very introspective and insightful perspective that I find incredibly intriguing.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel chuckled, the smile on her face seeming to be involuntary. “Anyways, I should probably head home.” She said, making her way towards the exit. “A pleasure meeting you, Connor.”

“Likewise.” He said pleasantly, watching her walk away.

She then glanced back at him as she lingered in the doorway. “Will I be seeing you tomorrow in the station?” She asked him.

Connor nodded. “Most likely.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel then gave him another genuine smile. “Then I look forward to seeing you.”

“And I you, Detective.” Connor replied in kind.

“You don’t have to call me that.” She corrected him. “You can just call me Rachel, I don’t mind you using my first name.”

Connor nodded, returning her smile with his own. “In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow, Rachel.”

Her dark eyes glittered with excitement when he said that. “See you tomorrow, Connor.”

Just as she was about to leave, Connor remembered her curiosity about his skin and felt the need to educate her on it. “It’s a synthetic fluid.”

Rachel stopped as she turned to face him again, visible confusion on her soft round face. “Huh?”

“Android skin.” He clarified. “It’s a synthetic ferrofluid that spreads over an android’s body that is also combined with manipulative silicon and magnetic plasticine that is controlled by the android. Our biocomponents can manipulate the skin and control where it’s skinned onto because of its specialized magnetic properties. Everything is specifically designed to feel as close to human skin as possible, particularly in the cases of androids that are bought and sold into red light districts and industries.”

Rachel - Warm ^ She was seeming to take all this information in, filing it away into her vast and expansive brain. “Huh. That makes a lot of sense!” Rachel said, having brought her hand to her chin as she processed it. Looking back at Connor, her expression softened once more. “Well, Goodnight, Connor.”

Software Instability ^ “Goodnight, Rachel.” Connor replied in kind.

And in a second, she had disappeared down the hall, likely on her way home.

And as Connor stood in the interrogation room all alone, the hum of the fluorescent lights above him and the whirrs and audible processes of the tech surrounding him occupied his passive attention, there was one curious thought that was becoming ever apparent to the android.

Software Instability ^ He had noticed a significant spike in his software instability, and many of those instances were just from Rachel’s smile alone.

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