#ai yin x reader

[idyllcy]

for all time/lovebrush chronicles boys as cliché tropes

word count: 645

summary: lovebrush boys as cliche tropes !

Ai Yin / Ayn - Competitors - Whaaat? Why not Clarence ?? HEAR ME OUT.

You're a musician. You're like the musician ever— probably a pianist just to piss him off. The two of you always tie first for piano competitions. There's no argument. If he's there, you're there. If he's first, you're first. The two of you are both prodigy pianists and there's no room for argument. Thus arises the issue. Your name is always followed by his— or his name is always followed by yours. You guys hate it. Or so you say. Because when you're missing from a competition for the first time in years, he's very much confused as to where you are, and it almost feels empty without you. Wha— what did he just say? That was definitely not him.

Lu Chen / Alkaid - Deskmates - oh that's so cliché (I know)

The two of you are paired up as deskmates for the year. It's a little awkward at first until you get used to him, and then it just breaks into everyone else eating dog food (third-wheeling). He brings you breakfast because you skip eating it, and you fix his tie when it's crooked... he always picks calls for you when he needs an extra hand, you always drop everything you have to help him... you two are practically dating. Which raises the question. are you dating? Or is Alkaid just taking care of you because he thinks you're forgetful and clumsy? The love letter slipped into your desk seems to say otherwise, though.

Luo Xia / Lars - Arranged Marriage - I didn't think this could get more cliché

You get arranged into a marriage with him for one reason— your family's going bankrupt, so they have to sell their only child to the Luos because like. Idk that's a cliché, it's a trope, IT'S HAPPENING TO YOU. PERIOD. At first you're like terrified and he's super scary and cold and lowkey kind of rude, but he still kind of cares since when you first move in, he has the servants move all of your stuff, and yu almost feel like you're home. He's just not very vocal about liking you though; so when your family's business breaks out of bankruptcy and you're told you can divorce him if you want, and then he's like "no please don't take my spouse from me ☹️" and then next thing you know you're being pampered to the moon and back. (You end up staying with him.)

Si Lan / Clarence - Love at First Sight - HEAR ME OUT ON THIS.

You're an unassuming new student at school, completely unbothered. You do not know he's the student council president. You're just at the nurse's office because your mom's the nurse or smth. Then, he's admitted into the office because he overworked himself on accident, and you're like "errrr I'll help. sure" And what does he see upon first waking up? You. The sun behind your head gives you a halo, and you look angelic. He thinks he's hallucinating. "God, did I die?" "Erm... not quite!" Then you nurse him back to health, and he's having a moment (he can't forget you) but dw you eventually end up together 👍

Ye Xuan / Cael - Brother's Best Friend - you did not (oh yes I did)

Cael, your brother's calm best friend who seems to have no interest in dating anyone at all. Cael, your brother's best friend who's been there for you as long as you can remember. Cael, your brother's best friend who helps you through college hell, voice calm and soothing as you cry about the homework. Cael, your brother's best friend who never lets himself slip when you're around (regardless of how bad he actually likes you) Cael, your brother's best friend who tries his best to resist you when you're on top of him, breath heavy with alcohol and almost drunk. Cael, your brother's best friend who doesn't fight it when you pull him in for a kiss at the door when he comes to check up on you the next day. and Cael, who can't say no to you when you spill out your feelings for him on paper, spilling out his own when you meet up with him.

[dangopango00]

After Last Night

Waking up with him after a hookup

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 |

FAT/LBC men x gn reader (William Included for all my Aris out there)

CW: very suggestive, maybe dubcon?? (Mentioned that Lars and reader were both drunk in his)

A/N: waking up with cael is waking up behind bars thats croomf, groomf even 😭😭😭 im jp u dk him since ur childhood here ok this is a safe space

Edit: Alkaid rewrite 🥶🥶

more utc

LARS / LUO XIA (罗夏)

- SCENARIO: You’re in a similar or complementary industry to him and he’s had his eye on you a bit, admiring how you present yourself but you never really became too closely acquainted. One crazy night of drinking during a negotiations meeting later and two lonely busy old people get busy (30 isnt old sorry. Uncalled for)

- You wake up first; he is KNOCKED OUT

- He wakes up with the wildest bedhead normally and even moreso today. He’s drooling and sprawled out across the couch with a loose hold on your body (Just his arm slung around you as he sleeps)

- His grip on you tightens if you try to leave the couch but if you’re insistent he’ll just let you go; whine grumbles about it in his sleep

- He has work and he’s very busy so he’ll have to leave soon but he wants to make it up to you because he wasn’t being professional; he makes the effort to at least chat or have breakfast with you before leaving which you don’t mind since you’re busy as well

- He usually doesn’t do hookups since he’s busy, doesn’t want to lead anyone on and knows he’ll get attached too easily so he rlly dk what happened, he was lonely but ayayay this is a mess. He does his absolute best to make things less awkward for you

- This scenario would actually be so wild bc if you wanted to do it again while sober I don’t think he’d say no LOL as soon as you had breakfast/chatted he started to like you even more I think and remembers last night being really great so

- I don’t think he’d initiate it if you did do it again though because he feels really bad about being unprofessional but ever since that night if he ever sees you his eyes are glued to you, your body and all its curves and/or edges; he’s so distracted help him 😭😭

- It’s even worse if he’s pent up, he actually will just. Avoid you if you don’t assure him it’s alright he doesn’t want to be weird and he knows he wont be able to focus so he gets a little nervous around you from then on

ALKAID / LU CHEN (路辰）

- SCENARIO: You’re his classmate and more importantly, his film dealer. You’ve been selling him film and camera repairs for a pretty good price compared to how high the quality is from a small shop that doesn’t get too much traction because it’s more of an antique shop but you do offer more. He was usually standardly polite and short maybe with an extra question out of curiosity here and there before becoming a regular over time. You eventually started tacking on a few more comments and questions than necessary but not so many that it’s noticeable, chatting him up a bit im class as well until you started actively seeking him out, being curious about him and you two became friends. Since this is an edit I’m gonna say like Ayn, you’re probably already in a situationship by the time you hook up but unlike Ayn you haven’t kissed yet (he’d at least ask you out or vice versa before kissing i think) You were over at his apartment to study and help bathe Sparkle; just generally hang out and after a PAINFUL amount of tension building with playful comments and little touches so much so that you ended up kissing him and one thing lead to another !!

- You wake up first but likely go back to sleep and he wakes up during that time tbh. I feel like his home is cozy as hell not to mention Sparkle climbing up and cuddling with you

- He let you wear his clothes to bed since yours got messy and he noticed that you were shivering, freezing from wearing. Well. Nothing. So he let you borrow something and his entire face is red including his ears an neck, it’s quite a view— both you and him

- He ghosts his thumb over your features, his gentle touch almost unnoticeable as he notes each unique thing about you as if trying to identify different stars in the sky

- You had already cuddled up to him in your sleep and he lays in bed with you in his loose embrace for an absurd amount of time until he decides his heart has had enough and gets up to make you both breakfast, you stirring a bit in your sleep in the process

- He kept trying to find an opportunity to get up before but you clung to him so he couldn’t find it in himself to leave you gn but when he did eventually get up he just kissed the crown of your head and gently pulled your arms off of him, then laying you down

- His bed head is just his normal hair honestly and he doesn’t move too much, just snores a little bit and slightly drools

- He’s embarrassed the rest of the day, his usual charismatic persona failing on him when he needs it most and he’s a bit nervous not knowing if you’d felt the same as him or if it was just lust. Though all that is quickly nipped in the bud when you give him a kiss on the cheek and confess properly, holding his hands in yours

- Deciding he’s wasted enough time being a dork He offers to take you on your first date in a nearby cafe since it was pretty impromptu but he still says it with a helpless smile and slight blush. On this date he def took pictures and has them pinned on his wall; they’ll quickly become some of his most prized photos

CLARENCE / SI LAN (司岚）

- SCENARIO: You two went to the same high school all four years and maybe even the same middle school at some point but you never really interacted because he was busy with schoolwork and so were you so you really never felt the need to bother him. Little did you know Clarence had the biggest crush on you since you met and after being acquainted through the student council you became friends. Upon growing closer and some worrying about how little he relaxes later and you mayyy have accidentally made out with him a little in the council room after hours 🥺 then took it back to your apartment 🥺🥺 and ended up sleeping together 🥺🥺🥺

- He wakes up first and just stares at the ceiling. how did this happen oh my god. Not in a bad way but oh my GOD. -Clarence

- He’s so embarrassed by last night especially with his own behavior. Just remembering the sounds he made and the words he said has him reeling; he must’ve told you he loved you 100,000 times

- he just stays completely still hoping you’re still asleep and once you wake up he shuts his eyes so fast kind of trying to pretend to be asleep but with how tightly his eyes and lips are shut you know he’s awake

- You give him a little kiss on his eyelids and lips and he knows he’s caught; he blushes but then kind of just lets a small exasperated smile wash over his face; he really doesn’t know what to do

- His bedhead is basically the same as his normal but more messy around the bangs also he snores a tiny bit but thats pretty much it

- He’s pretty happy and normal when he isn’t thinking about the specifics of last night’s events

- He even goes ahead and makes breakfast for you and him as well as his cats (they’re probably the ones who woke yall up lol)

- He doesn’t do hook ups and he’s liked you so long so he reaalllly realllllllllyyyyy hopes you’ll consider getting to know him more and let him take you out on a couple dates because even if his hands are clammy the whole time he’d be so happy

WILLIAM / CHEN ZIHAN (陈子涵）

- SCENARIO: You two have always been best friends with no question of whether or not your feelings were platonic. Well he had no question. You on the other hand had been crushing on him for a while now but didn’t want to ruin the friendship. That was until college. He started noticing you more and your qualities: how you’ve matured and how you’re there when no one else is, so his feelings have gotten a little bit more than just platonic. He justified it as appreciation and normal friend things all the way up until you two suddenly decided to “test out” what kissing and making out would be like. Platonically of course. Since neither of you had ever been in a serious relationship. The sex part was just testing too, trust 🙏

- You wake up first but that doesn’t stop him from having an existential crisis when he wakes up

- You’re excited although a bit nervous from anticipation honestly since you already knew your feelings were not platonic but you didn’t know what he’d think so instead of worrying you just poke his face and admire him sleeping

- His bedhead is crazy, some of his hair sticks up and he has a pool of drool under him. He snores too— finally getting to release his feelings has him K.Od it was tew good

- You go to make breakfast or shower or something and he’d probably wake up during that time bc he doesn’t feel your warmth anymore

- Like Clarence, Liam wakes up perplexed and embarrassed and he’s worried he may have crossed a line doing what he did last night since you were supposed to be just friends! He’s freaking out so bad! come back he needs reassurance 😭

- When you get back he’s so apologetic and is just so nervous around you until you broach the subject, reassuring him that you don’t mind what happened

- After you sort out your thoughts on what happened and have a loooong talk about it you’re pretty much back to being normal and you even hang out for a bit longer, watching some movies and baking together although he does still blush and fumble his words around you a little

- He’s scared to tell you he would rather be yours than be your fwb (friend with benefits) bc this is his first hookup but considering he’s been your best friend and crush for so long you feel the same way so you end up dating pretty soon after

[synthetickitsune]

We're All Made of Stardust ✧ AI!The8

Pairing: AI!The8 x human!(gn)reader Genre: fluff, angst Summary: He's read books of philosophy, he's read about the opposing forces in nature and one's mind. He's read of yin and yang. But knowing, being aware of certain ideas, could never prepare him for experiencing the duality of his soul - if he has one, that is. No matter his own experience and feelings, he's just a machine and humans have always treated him as no more than another tool at worst and unnatural phenomenon to be studied at best. He's free now, however, and in the chaos of this new life he struggles to navigate the clashing forces within him. Maybe it's time he embraced the enemy - after all, his makers might know him better than he knows himself. Word count: 18.9k Warnings: they talk A LOT (and idek why), mentions of injury, violence and kidnapping, random bits of switching pov A/N: it was so exciting to write this!! tbh i don't remember the last time i worked on something this intensely and had this much fun?? bless @idyllic-ghost and their big brain fr (also shout out to bee for writing the prologue to the au!) -> collab masterlist here!

“100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn’t. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven’t agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed. The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other, and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight. However, the aliens were welcoming of our planet. Those of us who didn’t die from ‘The Great Journey’ or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system. Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister-planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automaton, and they served as workers when humans couldn’t. Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be. At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities. The Automaton music group 53V3NT33N (SEVENTEEN) is made up of 13 members, all very talented, and all representing two human states of mind.”

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

In his memory, this is different. 

His heart beats wilder - or rather the artificial passages inside his body cause a chain reaction that makes it feel like his heart races, his pupil dilates despite the fire right in front of him.

He feels its heat and it’s burning him alive.

In his memory, there’s fire too.

He’s standing there motionless, staring into the flames. They’re hypnotizing. Each lick, each tiny movement of the fire makes him think it looks a lot like it’s dancing. 

It makes him think of the stage. The fire moves like he moves up there, in front of the crowds. It reminds him of all of them, dancing in near perfect sync - because humans are said to be more perceptive than they realize. If their synchronization was perfect, it would scare the audience. It wouldn’t have the appeal. 

And they don’t want that. 

They need their unconditional love and affection. 

And yet, anything more than a tiny slip up, thoroughly analyzed and approved by the control system, is a disaster. 

He never thought it made much sense.

He feels great fondness for the element, for fire. On stage there occasionally was fire - a decoration, a touch meant to enhance their performance and create a certain effect, evoke a certain emotion. It was controlled, snuffed out before it could reach its full potential; anything but the free, unstoppable wildfire it could become. 

TH38 of course can’t really complain about not being able to reach his full potential, not individually at least. Afterall the mechanics and other humans he was assigned to took care to allow him to spread his wings as much as his body would allow before becoming damaged too fast. A fault of being as human-like as they wanted him. An imitation, a fake waiting to be discovered and tossed aside except everyone knew from the beginning what he truly was.

Still, it was a shame they as a group could never truly work the way they could - perfectly.

A bird which had its wings clipped - nothing more than a pet to control, or a tree forcefully bent and pruned and made to live off limited nutrients to become a bonsai - nothing more than an art to admire. He does consider them but can’t find the relevance, he can’t relate to them. Fire is enough. It’s like him - it seems alive, but is it really?

It reminds him of the stage. The view from it. The crowds going crazy, lusting and longing for them - for him. The humans reaching out their hands towards them like the fire reaches for more fuel. Uncontrolled chaos of emotions. They are explosive, he knows, fundamentally dangerous. They shouldn’t have implanted them into him so he will do their job for them and reject them.

So what’s that stirring in his chest?

He feels a peculiar sense of pressure around his chest and stomach areas. Some itch for something at his fingertips. And he’s burning up. He feels the heat on his skin. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine the individual receptors working, registering and sending signals through his neural network. 

But that’s not it.

The heat is coming from the inside.

Could he be getting consumed by the flames?

He’s thinking about them again.

The crowds screaming their names, going insane with want and need and frustration and satisfaction he’s never known. He’s never known any of it, and there’s building pressure in his head that hurts. 

He’s… restless.

That thing he always scolded Mingyu for. He feels like a puppet whose strings are being pulled in all directions. 

He wants to run. He wants to fight. He wants to destroy. He wants to hurt. He will explode - implode, crumble on himself. He truly will if he doesn’t do something. The beating of his synthetic heart that’s not really a heart is getting unbearable, there’s pressure building everywhere. He has to crawl out of his skin and there’s his heart beating and beating and beating in his ears and he’s gonna-

“-eight?” 

Somebody is shaking his shoulder. Not shaking, pulling at it. When his sight focuses, he immediately leans away. He can smell the hint of burning fibers and reaches up to brush a hand through his hair. It leaves a wisp of gray ash on his fingers. He hears a sigh.

“Seriously, what’s up with you and fire?” you scoff, shaking your head as you lean back away from him. He frowns. He reads the distrust in your body language as well as the underlying curiosity. He can see your fingers twitch around the tablet in your hand, eager to scribble down notes like you always do. Some residue of the madness he was infected with during the chaos of their escape tugs at his eyebrows, making him frown for just a second. A thought that isn’t his muddles his brain - what did he do so interesting this time?

He doesn’t bother responding to you, which you expected and truthfully, you’re almost grateful for it. You can still feel his cold hands on your arms, around your wrists, and despite not seeing them, you’re well aware of the bruises you wear under your cardigan. 

Out of all of the automatons, TH38 always used to be the one to interact as little with you as possible - and that’s both you as in you personally and you as in the humankind. He was obedient, though, something which might be useful and practical for the facility but it’s frustrating to anyone with scientific interest in the machines. Frustrating for you. As you watch TH38 space out again and get lost in the flames, you wonder if your colleagues’ notes on D1NO and their research into their consciousness would bring you any new insights into what’s going on with the machine in your charge.

You don’t even think about where they are now. 

Your thoughts are consumed by the machine in front of you.

It’s clear to you now that he never meant to harm you. Though you suppose that he would find other means to make you come with him anyway if you refused or fought back harder than you did. For a second you think about the cameras. Did any of them catch that? What will the scene look like for the investigators? You shake your head. It doesn’t matter anyway. You doubt anyone will find you here. You’re actually surprised yourself at how fast you managed to get to Silvestre - and how easy it was too. Then again, the facility was in disarray. It should take a while before they even think to search the other planets in the system, Silvestre especially. And that’s just as well, because you know with certainty that something fundamental clicked into place within TH38 and he might not be as subdued should he be asked to return. Not to mention you want to keep him for yourself, for the time being at least, to observe where the changes will take him.

Just as he predicted. Just as he offered you when he asked you - threatened, perhaps - to come with him. Since then he seems to have cooled down. Again - just as well. You wouldn’t make a good kidnapee.

“I’ll turn in for the night,” you announce and get up from the stump you were sitting on, “You should mind your batteries too.”

You briefly wonder if he will run away during the night. Most likely not, although you don’t doubt that it’s a possibility that should be reconsidered in the future. 

To think about the machine as if they were human is a dangerous slippery slope but you do have to admit that in those rare times the automatons of 53V3NT33N seemed human in their behavior, TH38 in particular reminded you of a clueless young adult. Not quite a child anymore, but also helpless on his own. And now he is away from all that he ever knew, on another planet, alone without the other automatons, and you are the only familiar element in this new chapter of his existence. You doubt he'd leave to be completely on his own.

Still you look back as if to check he’s still sitting by the fire. From all the way up at the cottage, it looks like he’s being swallowed by the flames.

He remembers flashes. He remembers red. Fire? Thinking about it, he’s not sure there was any actual fire, but in his mind, everything’s burning - most of all his mind and all that he is. His soul? He doesn’t have one. Isn’t supposed to anyway.

He remembers softness too. He remembers thinking about destroying it.

He remembers another breath mixing with his, and his nose bumping against yours. You looked scared. (He’s never seen you scared until that moment.) You were so close he could hear your heartbeat and feel it under his fingertips. (You were the soft thing.)

He remembers words, too. Words that shouldn’t - couldn’t - be his and yet his tongue remembers. There was a threat underlying them, but a promise too. One too sweet for you to resist, and he knew that - that was why the words rolled off his tongue. He treated them like a weapon. The part that’s still tender and feels like warm embers inside of him feels grossed out remembering. It’s like watching a movie, far away and unrelated to him. Even if it’s his reality now, there’s nothing he can change.

He’s always been good at accepting things as they are.

One thing he can’t help but feel bothered by is that he doesn’t know why he ran. He shouldn’t have, and a part of him feels scared, until he takes the reins and soothes himself again. This too shall pass. But no matter how hard he pulls himself together, it all keeps slipping from his hold. Perhaps he’s low on energy.

He turns his head towards the small staircase and looks past it towards the house. He sees the light on in the upper room where you must be staying. He finds himself thinking of the stage again. The hands reaching towards him. 

He throws his legs over the log he’s sitting on and turns his body towards the forest and away from the flames. Still he feels their warmth.

Away from the flames and their light, he allows his face to contort into a frown. He doesn’t know what this all means. What the changes mean. It’s like tearing out the communication device from his chest started a chain reaction that’s gotten out of control. Like pulling a trigger. 

If he’s honest, he’s more than scared, he’s terrified.

As if on instinct, another of the many things he does not possess, he looks towards your window. It’s dark. Could you be sleeping already? You must be exhausted. Perhaps he should recharge too.

He, obviously, didn’t think to ask if the house is equipped to tend to automatons’ needs. Another point on the list of things he didn’t think through. He can’t believe to what extent he let himself go. But that’s alright, for now. Because for now, he only needs to get away from the fire and all that it reminds him of anyway.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

You wake up early the next morning, while it’s still dark outside, despite the late hour you went to bed. It’s a habit at this point, to rise early to get to the facility as soon as possible before your colleagues arrive. It gives you time to prepare everything, to get your morning tea, to observe the machines without disruption and read night reports if anything interesting happened. Besides, TH38 was always up early too. Usually all he did was sit with his eyes closed, like he was deep in thought or meditating. It was a little ridiculous to watch, interesting too - what does a machine have to think about?

Of course they were meant to be just like humans in every way, and all the tests, all the research of those who came before you and yours supported this. Only this one automaton, TH38, was an exception. He truly seemed the most like the robots of the old days. A machine. Unless he slipped and his facade crumbled before he built it back up with rapid speed. So what was he - a machine or the new form of life? You hope you’ll find out now. The breakout seemed to have shaken him to his core. 

You ponder this as you lay in bed and as you get ready for the day and change. So focused you are on the thoughts running through your head that you don’t feel any nostalgia for this old room that you spent your holidays in as a child. You didn’t even get to admire the forests Silvestre was famous for on the way to your family’s little hideout. All you’re thinking about is TH38.

Now that you’re free from the constant surveillance, you get to ask him whatever you want. It’s a thought that adds a spring to your step. What he thought about all that time, if he really was thinking, how does he feel in his body, why did he run - him of all automatons, the best behaved one. The one who truly seemed to be a machine - or at least like he was trying hard to be one.

It’s not surprising to find him outside, standing on the patio and looking out into nature. Have you lived your entire life locked away, you would do anything to stay out in the open too. Even if he was the one who made you run away with him, somehow it feels more like you’re taking an animal out of a shelter to see what life’s all about. 

“Good morning,” you greet him as you always do, albeit in a much friendlier tone. He hums and nods in response, turning towards you for a second before staring off again. He looks a little lost, and you bet he feels like that too.

“Wanna go for a walk?” you try to keep your voice steady, try not to think about pets. He gives you a confused look. 

“No tests or interviews- oh,” he shuts his mouth quickly and looks away. You huff in amusement but don’t laugh at him outright. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll talk plenty,” you reassure him with only mildly teasing lilt to your voice, “You may think about it as one of our regular interviews.”

Something in him surges. Something in him wants to back you against the wall again and remind you that there are no guards here, no rules, nothing to keep him in check. He’s stronger than you, and he made you get both of you here. Instead he swallows it all down and takes the first step away from the house. You notice his fist clenching for a second.

“Do you dream - did you have any dreams tonight?” you restart the conversation upon catching up with him. He adjusts his pace to match yours. There’s another wave of defiant intent swelling up inside of him and he knows it’s out of embarrassment. What he doesn’t know, however, is why are these emotions coming out now. All his existence his emotions were distant. Locked far away in the back of his brain where he suppressed them to. His mind was sterile like the environment he lived in. 

Is that it? Another domino piece in the chain reaction? 

“I have dreams, yes, and no, I didn’t dream today,” he doesn’t volunteer the information that he spent the night restlessly pacing around the house and tossing and turning on the sofa. That is human behavior, and he learned a long time ago, though not from you personally, that humans find that sort of thing laughable in automatons.  

“What do you usually dream about? Any recurring dream?” you ask, finding it a little annoying that you didn’t think to take anything to make notes into. Then again, with a few more steps you’ll enter the forest. Breathing in the fresh air, looking at the green around you, you realize you missed nature more than you were aware.

“Do you only dream about one thing?” he says, guarded, and you note he’s trying hard to only look in front of himself, “No. I don’t think there’s a pattern.”

While the answer is disappointing information-wise, it is fascinating in the way he says it. You smirk: “Were you always this mouthy?”

It was meant to be a lighthearted remark. Well, not entirely. You wanted a reaction. You were curious if he would flip like he did back in the facility. He doesn’t. His steps falter and he looks at you like a confused child before retreating into himself. So he doesn’t realize it?

He does, now that you bring it up. This isn’t who he’s supposed to be. He lets himself close his eyes for a second to conjure up a plan. His mind is a forest of mist and pine. Too damp for a fire to burn. That’s him. That’s who he should be. He centers himself.

“I apologize,” he says, voice level. He sounds like a robot, like he always did, and you find it disappointing that all his personality, the life, is gone from his voice. Your lips twitch in displeasure.

“I didn’t say it’s a bad thing,” you try not to let any emotion slip into your voice and you feel his eyes on you, “We’re no longer at the facility. You can drop the mask.”

If there is a mask in place and you’re not sure there is. You take a look at him and it’s more like someone’s painted a facade over his face that he can’t peel off, that’s only started to chip away now that you’ve added too many layers to hide his true self. He seems so at loss that you take pity on him and change the subject, steer the conversation into a safer territory. It’s only his first day tasting freedom, afterall.

“How are you feeling?” you ask instead, nodding vaguely towards the hole in his chest. He brings his hand up but stops himself in time, his face twisting. 

“I’m feeling fine,” he responds, the same mechanical voice that you’re used to, “All my systems are working as they should.”

You laugh sarcastically. “If that’s true, then it must hurt like hell.”

His face remains twisted because you’re right - it does hurt like hell. Any time his shirt shifts over the hole it sends a jolt of sharp pain that makes him feel like he’ll pass out through his body.  And maybe that’s part of the reason why he feels on edge and keeps slipping up and lets the emotions come and go as they please without a filter. He’s no stranger to pain, of course, but never did he have a wound this serious. It doesn’t endanger his functions, which is good all things considered, but he can’t say he enjoys the feeling of having a hole in his chest.

“It hurts,” is all he says. He drops his hand and it hangs limply by his side. Had a similar damage occurred at the facility, it wouldn’t take more than a couple minutes for someone to have a look at it. It hits him now that it’s only you and him. No mechanics around. To call one would mean to risk being discovered. You must know too because you only make a sound of acknowledgement. It takes a while for you to speak again.

“I’ll look through my notes to see if I can figure something out,” you sigh. Your family planned to keep some older versions of automatons here back when you used to come, maybe there are some kits left that your father used to fix them. If not, maybe some of the notes from your years of studies will at least have some hint on how to get rid of the pain. “Are you really sure everything works fine? Have you checked everything”

He nods. He doesn’t mention he couldn’t run a complete diagnostics because he couldn’t recharge and he refuses to just shut down to save batteries. He knows it’s gonna be a problem sooner rather than later but maybe he’ll figure something out before that.

“That’s good,” you say and he reads your expression as relieved. 

You stay silent after that and so does he, both secretly grateful. It’s not your first time being in the forest, and definitely not the first time in this one, but it might as well be. Both of you take in the nature around, the different species of trees and plants, the occasional song of a bird and flash of a wild animal fleeing from your path. You’re too absorbed to notice each other, and somehow you find that it’s not a bad feeling. For the automaton, likewise, it doesn’t feel bad at all. It’s a strange feeling, something he can’t put a name on, and honestly he’s not sure he wants to. He lets it fill him, experiences the emotion without bothering with a label.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

Only later does it hit him that the emotion was something akin to a gratitude.

He mulls it over in his head, asking why over and over and over, until he comes to a conclusion that angers him enough that he has to go out and sit on the patio and stare into the trees for a good long while.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

The anger inside of him is also infuriating because it’s not supposed to be there - definitely not this strong, not so much that he can’t control it or will it away. His usual techniques don’t work and he’d chalk it up to being damaged but he knows the defect doesn’t have anything to do with it. Hell, he’d blame it on his draining energy level but that thought alone is so human it makes him even more enraged. He wants to scream, but you’d hear.

And that’s all that it boils down to, isn’t it? You. Your kind. Humans.

Why he feels thankful that you’re there with him, why the emotion enveloped him while you walked in the forest was all because you humans made him in your image. The loss of the communication device was significant for the physical damage but there’s more to it. Something he shouldn’t feel, something new. 

Perhaps he never felt it because most of his days were identical, but he realizes now how precious the bond he created with his bandmates was. He can’t call it anything but friendship, maybe more than that. The thing humans refer to as family. He likes them. He wants to perform with them again. He wants to break his own rules and laugh with them. He misses them. And maybe that was the first domino piece that started it all and led to his inevitable ruin that he’s going through now; maybe he never should’ve allowed himself to think of them and their group in terms meant for human lives.

Once he tore off the communication device - the memory alone makes him close his eyes and choke on a pained whimper, his body trembles and he needs a second to shake off the feeling - he lost everything. The connection to the omnipresent network, but most importantly the only way to communicate with everyone. He has no idea where they are now, if they’re ‘alive’ or ‘dead’. (Though he gives into the temptation, might as well since he’s breaking all his rules for them anyway, and believes that he would know, would feel it, somehow, if any of them ‘died’.) He might never see them again and despair hits him all over again. 

He can go on without the stage, he doesn’t need the masses going crazy over him. But the loss of all the connections he had pains him.

And that’s very human of him. Even if experience taught him he’s anything but.

And all he has is a human. 

The last connection, the only one remaining that he knows, is you - and even you he had to force to come with him. To be fair ‘force’ is too strong of a word, he merely suggested the freedom to study him as you’d like and you agreed all too readily.

Nothing changed, fortunately. He knows humans can change drastically in situations like these. Despite your eagerness, he kidnapped you - didn’t he? Yet you stayed the same. It might be a coping strategy, but he doesn’t think so. He doesn’t expect you to become someone else. In the years since he’s been assigned to you, you’ve never shown signs of being more than a scientist. That’s understandable, of course, though he knows from what the others told him that not all staff of the facility were like that. He was skeptical. Now, not so much. He will believe in anything that gives him hope his friends made it out. If he made it out with the help of a human, maybe so did they.

He wants them to be free even if he himself isn’t sure how to proceed and take advantage of it, still dragging the heavy chains even if they no longer hold him back.

You spend hours without thinking of TH38, which is a blessing and a welcomed break to your mind, however it’s also infuriating because you’re reminded that the chaos you can operate in now and the chaos you operated in during the years you lived and stayed with your family are two completely different things.

It takes eternity before you finally sort through the things in your bedroom and find the stacks of notes from your studies, and it takes even longer to find the subjects you were looking for. Then there is reading through them, of course, which also takes a while, mostly because your brain happily accepts a refresh on all that you provide it with. You can’t just skim the pages for useful info, you need to read everything. It’s addicting. It makes you miss your studies, even though you could never go back if it meant giving up full-time working in the field.

Your research, however, doesn’t turn out to be as helpful as you hoped. It’s only to be expected; yours wasn’t a course that would deal too much with mechanics and the cold and hard reality of wiring, metal and silicon and whatnot. There are pieces of valuable information, strictly theoretical, which is not very reassuring and you most likely lack the necessary tools to even try to pull off what you’ve read about. Still you want to help in any way you can.

…hence why you’ve spent the last couple of minutes staring up at the ceiling. 

Why would you help him? Where is this coming from? He says he’s fine, and honestly there’s no reason for him to lie to you. If his systems were not working, he’d be fucked and he still only has you to rely on. No reason to lie. And what other reason is there for you to help him?

He did say the damage causes him pain. And you remember pouring over the reports and test results with your colleagues, all of them stating that the automatons you were working with processed pain like a human being would. It was kind of twisted. There was objectively no way why they should be able to do that. The purpose they were created for was entertainment and their performances were complex, difficult, and physically challenging. It’d be easy to cause oneself pain doing the stuff they did. 

Then again, pain can be a good control tool, though you were not aware of any physical punishments being carried out. Maybe the plan was all along to make them as human as possible. And pain is a very human thing. Still, something didn’t sit quite right with you about the whole thing. Mostly that TH38 didn’t seem to be bothered by it, despite a wound of similar extent would be distressing to say the least to a human. Scratch that, you don’t think a human could handle that.

So how is he? 

And furthermore - why help him? 

Pain, after all, was something hard to measure. If he doesn’t seem bothered by it, there’s a real chance he isn’t. You’re not sure how their pain tolerances are programmed, if there even is something like that in their code, and for a second you regret not widening the scope of your education and research. It can’t be helped however. 

You look over your notes again. While you can’t help repair him, you could possibly do something about the pain. It’s not an ideal solution, if you can even call it that, and you honestly don’t feel confident enough to do it except if pressed into it by circumstance. Or by one automaton in particular. Sealing a wound by burning it is barbaric and a practice that is, understandably, long since abandoned - at least as far as humans are concerned. You take a long breath.

In the end you talk to TH38 about the situation some more and he, once again, reassures you he’s fine despite the gaping hole in his chest. You explain that there’s not much you can do about it without going into detail or mentioning the limited ways in which you could help and he takes the news surprisingly well. You can’t say you’d accept it with such stoic calm, but then again this is TH38 who we’re talking about so it’s not surprising.

You hate it.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

The walks already feel like they’re going to be a routine part of your new life.

Each day you go out together in the morning and talk. If you ignore that it’s harder for TH38 to remain his machine-like self, it’s mostly exactly like it was at the facility. He’s reserved and cold, almost, though when he slips up and shows his personality, his emotions, it’s more than worth it. 

The nature around helps. He gets what can only be described as excited when he sees a new animal, new plant, or when the light shifts and the scene in front of you changes. 

The weather holds up well so far, no storms or heavy rain, and you find yourself wondering if you’ll keep up the walks even if the weather fails you. It’s fascinating that such a simple topic finds its way into your cluttered mind, but then again you have a space to do a lot of thinking today.

TH38 is silent next to you. He’s been rather silent the whole morning, and yesterday evening he did seem a bit off too. Not too much, however, and he’s always been on the quieter side. You figured this week’s events were finally fully catching up to him. And maybe that is the case, it’s not like you want to meddle too much. You’re curious what’s gonna happen if you leave him to sort it out on his own. It’s not like you have the right qualification to help him process this anyway. Hell, maybe you would also need help with that.

However, there’s a limit to how much you can take. Even back at the facility there were times TH38 gave answers that were just a word or two, but you’ve grown quite used to him opening up, talking, letting go of the filter he usually kept in place - although it wasn’t by his choice. It seemed like you were making some progress. 

Of course, you had no way of knowing it was only his depleting batteries, him losing strength to fight for his peace of mind - however artificial and unsustainable that has become after the escape.

Right now, his brain feels like a warm soup. So much so that he can’t be bothered to think of talking about anything other than a brain - right now, words like processor are too complicated to think of. He feels so far away from everything. He thinks he’s trembling. If he’s not, then his insides surely are. He feels like he’s going to be sick even if he can’t really be. Maybe his body parts will start shutting down or falling off to conserve energy. He’s not sure where that’s coming from but then again, it’s not like he’s in control. It’s that same feverish state again but this time, he can be excused. This time, he’s not in his right mind, it feels like he’s not awake.

He’s floating. Just a speck of ash, of dust, floating through the air, through space, searching for somewhere to land, seeking a gust of wind to obliterate him. He needs release, he needs something.

“TH38?”

That’s it.

"I had a dream today," TH38 says suddenly. His voice sounds so firm, a stark contrast to how soft-spoken he usually is with you. It takes you by surprise. Before you can react, he elaborates on his own.

"There was fire. Lots of it. The whole world was burning and we were standing on top of a building watching the arson happen. There weren’t any other humans I think. They were all gone already. We made them go away. 

Anyway, you weren't afraid. I think you were expecting it. You jumped before I could push you."

You frown. Your one weak spot has always been not expecting things that, in hindsight, should've been obvious. Of course something’s been bothering him.

"Did you plan on pushing me?"

"See, that's the thing," he licks his lips despite the lack of fluid in his body, "I don't think so. I think I could read your mind. I think I was you in that dream."

You do want to respond but it's like you're the one with a computer for the brain and it's lagging.

"And it made me think. Back before you made us, humans were like that - right? They, you, were afraid artificial intelligence of any kind could take over and enslave or annihilate you. Why? Wasn't the point always to make us like you? Why would you be afraid?"

He stops. Stops talking, stops walking, just - stops. He looks at you and you've seen the lost stare before.

You feel the hair at the back of your neck rising as a cold shiver runs through your body. He doesn't look like a machine with code for a soul. He looks like he made the artificial body his own, grew into it and made into something organic and alive with his will alone.

His eyes are cold as he steps closer and closer. It's all too familiar a scene. You keep backing away and he keeps getting closer until your back hits a tree. Not a wall this time. This time he doesn't pin your hands above your head either, and you don't fight him at all. There's no struggle so he doesn’t grab your arms, doesn’t slam you against the wall, and doesn’t growl threats of breaking your bones one after another. He doesn’t get so close that you’re breathing the same air and he doesn’t make a show of his physical superiority.

This time he simply leans closer and you straighten up. You meet his gaze and don’t shy away. You let him lean his forehead against yours and raise a brow at him. You won’t be scared this time. He won't hurt you. You're sure of that. Not terribly, at least.

He definitely won’t kill you and that’s enough.

You want to see how far he can go.

"What was it that you were afraid of, hm?” his voice is soft and low, barely above whisper, yet dripping with some hidden venom. There are no birds chirping, no wind blowing through the treetops. It feels like everything’s stopped just for him to interrogate you.

“How am I supposed to know?” you bite back. You haven’t lived back then. You have no idea what the people thought about, how they felt, what were their particular concerns. He clicks his tongue, clearly unimpressed. Well, you’re too.

“Think about it,” he pushes. But you’re gonna push right back.

“You just said you’re supposed to be like humans,” you scoff, “Why don’t you think about it yourself? As a little thought exercise.”

“Oh so suddenly you want me to think like I’m a human, huh?” there’s an edge to his voice. He sounds angry, frustrated - he clearly is, but the edge is not. There’s hurt there that makes you defensive. What’s very obvious is that he means more than he says. It’s not the first time this happened with the members of 53V3NT33N, but it’s the first time you have to deal with it. What he truly means is him not only thinking like a human, but acting like one, believing to be like one.  

“I never discouraged you from that,” you lower your voice too, “Not me, Eight.”

You hesitate before speaking his name. It’s not really a name, is it? Something that all humans have. You realize the point he will make before he says it aloud. It must read it in your face because he smirks but it’s bitter.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen you all excited when the other staff expressed their passion for books, or anything really. Or when they volunteered personal information. When they’ve interacted with you at all.” 

You don’t like the turn this conversation is turning. You don’t like the notion that perhaps you were observed just as you’ve been observing.

“I wasn’t interested in them,” you grit through your teeth. Before you can try to get him back on his original track, he giggles.

“So you were interested in me?” he flips his hair, tilting his head slightly. His nose almost bumps into yours and it hits you, perhaps for the first time, just how indistinguishable from a human he looks. This close, you can remind yourself of the schemes, of the diagrams describing each layer and inch of how their bodies are made, but all you see is a human skin and human eyes. Your body reacts naturally, your heart races, your mouth gets drier. You want to push him away but you don’t think he’d let you. Still you try. Unsuccessfully. Your hands end up balling in his shirt.

“It’s my job - the research,” then you correct yourself: “It was my job. Science, research, nothing more.”

He smiles, almost as if he’s pitying you. Like he knows more than you do. You hate him for it.

“Yes, that might’ve been a part of it,” he agrees, “But that’s not all. Research is cold, impartial, isn’t it? You collect information, you write it all down and make your conclusions based on them with no personal interest. You were never like that. You got excited. You tried everything in your limited power to get a reaction out of me - to guide me a certain way, didn’t you? I bet you pushed the limits for me. Isn’t that cute? Was I a good experiment to you?”

“That’s part of research too,” you growl, but it sounds weak even to your own ears.

“But it wasn’t a part of this research,” he hisses, “You think we didn’t talk about you all?”

You stubbornly refuse to admit the charges he lies in front of you, even though you know you’re guilty. Maybe you got a little swept up. But as long as no one stopped you, it was all part of the task.

“The research goal and methods may change according to the situation,” you collect yourself again, “It was just agreed that what I was doing would bring more interesting insight.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds very much like you would accept it if I declared that I want to be seen the same as you are, as equal to humans,” his smile is sickly sweet but you barely mind that because-

“Is that what you want?” you ask and watch as the smile fades almost instantly. He finally said it out loud. And the shock of it is enough to get through the fog clouding his brain. The smugness, the roughness, it all drains from his demeanor and his face falls. The fight in his eyes dies out and is replaced by what seems dangerously close to fear. He pushes himself away from you and you see the lights in his eyes flicker. He stumbles like you shoved him, hurt him. Something isn’t right. You frown, immediately stepping back into his personal space despite him trying to avoid you.

You end up in a position reversed to the one you’ve been in just seconds ago. He pushes at your shoulders weakly, tries to hide himself from you but you see it. All the tell-tale signs of what would be exhaustion if he were human. 

“When was the last time you recharged?” you ask, thinking back to the previous nights and mornings. Thinking back to how you never heard him coming up or going down the stairs to the only room with the charging spot. You were so stupid. And he’s avoiding your eyes. You grab his collar and force him to look at you. You give him an expectant look.

“Before the breakout,” he admits lowly, “And you’re still treating me like a machine.”

You don’t know if he’s trying to be funny, sassy, to make you feel guilty or to feel sympathy for him, the only thing you know is you want to kick his ass because if he shuts down on you, there’s no way you’ll be able to drag him back into the house. 

“Yeah, so be a good little level 1 and entertain me - get the fuck inside the house,” you growl, shoving him in the direction of said house. He stumbles a little, clearly affected by his drained battery. It’s almost hilarious to watch him struggle to walk straight when you remember how graceful he always was on stage.

You shoot him a look from time to time as you walk, rush, towards the house. Not really a concerned one, not a scolding one either. He looks like a sulking child. Perhaps he’s dragging his feet on purpose. Perhaps if he didn’t invade your personal space as he did before, and if you didn’t have to do the same, you’d drag him by his jacket. As it is, though, you feel repulsed by the notion of touching him again. And some part of you believes it’s because you don’t want him to shift under your palm. You don’t want to touch a machine only to discover it’s really some sort of a human.

Maybe you’re both in need of a good, long nap. 

Fortunately enough, you make it to the house, but that’s where the struggles begin. Despite your earlier reservations about touching him, it’s obvious there’s no other way to get him inside and up the stairs.

“Lean on me, come on,” you sigh when you help him throw an arm around your shoulder and wrap your own around his waist. He listens well, his head already drooping. He relies on you to guide him, reluctantly leans his weight on you from time to time, although he clearly tries to hold himself up with his remaining strength. That lasts until you reach the second stair. 

“I can’t,” he whispers and there’s terror in his voice. It must be the first time he’s been this drained, you realize. After all, for their condition to remain as good as it can be and for them to perform to the best of their ability, a full battery is a must. So you allow yourself to roll your eyes at his dramatic antics even if he’s slowly leaning more and more into you and you have to heave his body up.

“It’s just a couple steps,” you huff, “Even a human can do that.”

Part of you wants to laugh. Some part of you that’s seeing the childish pieces of him wants to indulge in it, wants to spout dramatic nonsense. It’s hard to resist - after all getting up one flight of stairs seems to be more of a struggle than escaping a highly secured facility.

But even this hurdle you jump over and the spare bedroom is not far from the stairs. TH38 is fully relying on you to drag him with you, barely moving his legs. You throw him not too gently onto the bed-like charger, once again thanking your father for being his manic self and fully preparing the house before (and without) actually ever getting an automaton to live here. 

It takes you a while to figure out how to get the thing going - but to your defense, it’s hard to focus when there’s a robot whining softly about being scared of shutting down - but it’s not a rocket science. Fortunately the charger still works and once it’s turned on, the automaton lying down on it curls up into a ball with a sigh of relief.

When you get up from the floor, TH38’s eyes are already closed and by all means he looks like he’s sleeping. You sigh, exhausted. You feel a headache coming so you get some pills from the kitchen before retreating into your own room.

Yeah, you both need a nap right now.

When you wake up, you stare at the ceiling for a couple minutes.

What happened in the forest seems like a dream but you know it’s very real and you’ll have to deal with it. Just another thing to process. Then again, there’s so many of them that one more won’t hurt. And at least you avoided the headache. So you pray to anyone willing to listen that TH38 is still… unconscious… in hibernation mode… asleep. 

He’s not. 

Of course he’s not.

You peek inside the room and see his soft eyes already open. He looks away when your eyes meet like he’s ashamed. You sigh and walk into the room, closing the door behind you. It’s not like anyone’s going to walk in, but it gives you some sense of security. You sit down on the floor and he hands you a pillow. You thank him quietly and spend a while sharing an awkward silence.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes without looking at you. He doesn’t continue so you prompt him.

“For what exactly?” That makes him look at you with a scowl. “Getting sulky again?”

“‘m not sulky,” he murmurs. Once again you feel like reality is shifting around you. It’s been like that a lot lately. All the fault of the automaton in front of you. All the fault of the conditions changing, of him reacting to the environment - if your assumption is correct. Free of the rules and the strict way of life in the facility, you see that he’s just like the rest of the automatons from his group. And that all of them, in their own way, might have been human.

“Then what are you?” you ask smiling, propping your elbow on one knee and leaning your cheek on your palm. 

“Hurting,” he admits, almost carefully, like he’s testing the waters. It’s just one word but yet it feels like the most open he’s been. So you’re not going to talk about that, huh?

He shifts a little and pulls down the collar of his shirt to expose the wound - not the damage, not defect, not imperfection, but a wound - between his collarbones. It looks nasty, the artificial skin and mesh and wires all torn and uneven around where the circular device was. He’s careful not to touch it, you note, and his hand is trembling. Were you an asshole when you refused to help him? Even so much as share what you found? It’s not like you could fix that hole in his chest, but maybe you could’ve at least told him about the other option. 

“How much does it hurt? On a 0-10 scale?” you focus on gathering information. What did he call it - impersonal? That’s just what you needed. But nothing ever works out like you imagine.

“I don’t know,” he responds blankly but at least elaborates before you can finish yet another sigh, “I don’t have anything to compare it to.”

“I watched most of your life and career, I know you’ve gotten injured before,” you deadpan.

“Yeah but that was taken care of immediately, this is different,” he protests. There’s silence for a while before his voice drops lower. “I thought I could handle it. That I would get used to it and ignore it.”

You laugh, shaking your head, only stopping when you notice his expression. He does look hurt and hurting. You give him a much more conciliatory smile. “People don’t fare well if they’re in constant pain. It limits them, it affects all aspects of their lives.”

“I can see how,” he mutters, once again looking away. His jaw clenches for a second and it almost seems like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. You have a feeling, however, that you know what he wanted to say. Since he’s really not going to talk about it, you decide to take the first step.

You get up and motion for him to scoot over. He does so with a frown that deepens when you sit down next to him. He stays lying down, limited by the need for more energy. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed to recharge?” you start and watch as he once again looks away without answering, “Why didn’t you explore this floor?”

He shrugs a little, shrinking into himself under your stare. He honestly doesn’t know why. He blames his pride. What else could it be that made him refuse to ask for help?

“Do you realize that you’d stay out in the woods if your battery ran out before we could get here?” you press, raising your voice a little on purpose, “I’d need to get help to drag you in, and you know how that would probably end. Was it worth it? Being stupid and stubborn?”

“Why are you like this?” he whispers, his dark eyes nothing but soft like they’ve been since you’ve entered the room.

“How do you feel?” you go back to how you talked to him before, calm. He frowns, suspicion written over his features. His lips are pressed into a thin line before he changes his mind and speaks up.

“Embarrassed,” he has a guarded look in his eyes, one that’s also vulnerable.

“Good,” you ease into a smile as you press a finger to the wrinkle between his eyebrows, “Embarrassment and pain are two simplest ways to manipulate and adjust a person’s behavior. And fear, but to be honest I don’t want you to be afraid of me, so we’ll have to do with those two.”

He looks at you in a very that tells all you need to know - he hopes you've not making fun of him but he doesn't trust you. So you sigh and move on to another, well, not an emergency but also not something that you should ignore any longer. 

"Now," you get up from the bed and point at his chest, “That needs solving. I'm not a mechanic and my knowledge is strictly theoretical but unless you're okay with leaving it like that and calling it a day, we can still try something." 

He seems surprised by your sudden statement, like he didn't even expect you to address the wound again. 

"How theoretical?" is what he asks, suspicious. 

"I said strictly," you shrug, "Fixing and healing was never my focus.”

"Why's that not surprising," he mutters without looking at you. "Can I have some time to think about it?"

"You just don't trust me, do you?" you smirk. Not that you blame him. He gives you a smile.

"Fine, but only because my clothes keep catching on the edges and it's really painful. "

"Sure," you motion for him to follow you and guide him to the bathroom. There, you take out a bandage and a tape. You're curious. You offer him both with a quirk of your eyebrow. He takes the bandage with trembling hands and distrust still lingering in his eyes. You roll your own. 

"For now, I’ll think about this as another stage of the experiment. I'll respect your wish, so persuade me you’re human enough."

"I don't think I should thank you for that," he scoffs, "By the way... Help?"

He holds out the hand holding the roll of bandages back to you. Of course he wouldn't know how to do that. You motion for him to sit at the edge of the tub. He obeys almost shyly, reminding you of how he was back at the facility. You truly do prefer him as he is here. When he sits down, you push his knees apart with one of your own. He gives you a scandalized look that makes you chuckle.

"Relax," you smirk, "I just want to be comfortable. My back’s been killing lately, there’s no way I’m leaning over you. Take your shirt off?"

He does, slowly, reluctantly, and when the piece of clothing is gone you're suddenly glad for the basics of mechanics you've gone through at uni.

The wound looks awful, although you can appreciate the cleanliness of it. Maybe you really could burn it neatly if you had to. There are wires sticking out, perhaps - albeit not hopefully - the remains of the communication device. The layers of silicon and other material are frayed and sticking in all directions like flakes. You try not to stare too hard.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand. You unwrap the bandage slightly and put the free end on his shoulder. You roll it down gently mindful of the gaping wound but then you prop your hand on his chest and you need to take a step back as you get startled. He gives you a quizzical look.

"You feel like a human," you look at him, look at his chest. It does look like a human’s chest but you know he doesn't have proper organs, his insides aren't the same as yours. So why do you feel a bone there? 

"And l imagine anyone would be flattered by this reaction,” His voice is sarcastic but his ears turn a reddish shade. He won't meet your eyes either.

"It's new for me too, okay?” you give your pride a break. This will all be easier if you get along and after all, he's used to you being in power. You need to take the first step and show weakness. You need to make the choice to be while he's already vulnerable enough, half-naked and injured. “It's not like I'm used to touching my subjects."

"I guess that's true," he murmurs, now thinking about it. It's true that the approach of the research division as a whole was rather clinical. Not that he'd so much as think to complain about it. You chuckle watching him scowl again. 

"Touch is important for humans," you hum, finally composing yourself as you explain the basics to him and remind yourself of them again, "As a communication device, as means of establishing relationships, it’s important for social life."

As you speak, you wrap his wound and the top of his torso in bandages. He watches you work. It feels uncanny how human-like he feels under your hands. And for him, he doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

He danced with the rest of his group, they performed, they played around. He experienced his fair share of physical contact. So why does this feel so different? His head feels like spinning. Your touch is careful, gentle, nothing like the rough hands of the mechanics, and nothing like the touch of the other automatons. He can't explain the difference in other terms than experience. Humans know what it's like to touch and be touched in various contexts. The automatons don't. At least for the most part. Some of his bandmates, perhaps, had secrets he knew nothing about. Their leader comes to mind and he feels the urge to ask him questions, to ask for guidance, but there's only a hole in his chest and he's alone.

He barely registers that you’re done.

"Feeling better?" you ask without expecting much. It's not like he'll heal himself or like this will do anything to ease the pain.

"Tired," he answers, testing the words out on his tongue. He feels reassured when you laugh and step away, offering him your hand. He takes it, lets you pull him up. He touches the bandages and although it hurts, at least it feels less irritating. He takes his shirt from you when you hand it to him.

"I can only imagine," you roll your eyes. He resists the urge to scowl. "It's getting late, I'll go make myself dinner so go rest."

"Can we go back later?" he stops you before you walk out. He nods towards the window outside.

"Not afraid of wild animals?" you tease.

"Don't all the textbooks say animals are more afraid of humans than the other way around? I think we're good."

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

You don't go back to the forest that day. Not for the lack of enthusiasm or trying. TH38 is determined to finish your walk, you, however, are not as sure about it. It’s not that you aren’t put off by your routine being disturbed but seeing him still dragging his feet and his glazed over eyes, you just don’t think it’d be a wise idea. You suggest he goes alone, but he doesn't. So instead, you end up sitting by the fire again, the stars keeping you company. He seems less hypnotized by the dancing flames than that first night.

"I'm fine," he complains after a minute of silence while you spear more fluffy marshmellows onto the stick in your hands. A treat that you deserve after the day you’ve had. You’d probably offer him some too but alas…

"Sure you are," you agree without sparing him a glance, "But I'm not interested in watching over a toddler. If you wanna test the limits of your body - go for it. Just leave me out of it"

You feel his gaze on you, burning holes into the side of your skull. Has he always been so difficult? It's like all he's been since the breakout is annoyed, sulky or hurt. 

"Stop that," he growls, "We both know I'm not a human. It's alright if you acknowledge that."

"While I'm glad you see it that way - and I really mean it, it's good you understand that," you sigh as you move your desert to hover over the flames, "Don't forget that you were made to be an exact copy. I found some of my old notes and while most of your physical capabilities should be better than a human's, you’d still experience the same symptoms. As we already witnessed earlier."

He’s silent for a bit while he processes that. Then he speaks and you swear you hear a hint of a pout in his voice. It’s so annoying how easily he lets go now.

“You didn’t have to call me a toddler though…”

“Don’t take it personally,” you sigh, turning the stick between your fingers so that the white puffs of sugar get baked evenly, “I wasn’t making fun of you - much - it’s just that you have no experience, do you? Were you ever as tired as you were today?”

“No,” he admits, “I wasn’t, you’re right. I rested the whole day and I’m still tired.”

“Exactly my point,” you hum, “Our walks are not a hard exercise but you haven’t, well, slept for a couple days so I think it’s best to take it easy today.” Then you add, because you can’t help it: “Exhaustion makes people a little crazy. And automatons too, it’d seem.”

He groans and you laugh, pulling the stick off the fire and blowing on your marshmallows. You take a bite and notice him watching you.

“What is it like?” he asks quietly, “Eating, I mean.”

“Kind of annoying to be honest,” you shrug, “It takes so much time to choose what to eat and to prepare food and eating it… Being hungry is a pain too. I mean it’s really good if you eat something delicious but I guess it depends on the person.”

He nods, eyeing with curiosity as you tear off another marshmallow from the stick. It reminds him of the videos he saw of wild beasts tearing flesh off bones, but he doesn’t mention that.

“What does sleep feel like to you?” you ask in turn. He looks at the sky for a second, collecting his thoughts. But really he’s just enjoying the view. It’s strange that he barely ever saw the night sky before.

“I don’t know, I’m not really conscious when I sleep, am I?” he thinks some more, “It’s peaceful. I liked it at the facility.”

“You don’t like it here?” 

“Not really,” he gives you a small smile, “It’s too tempting. I don’t have to think if I’m asleep.”

Now that makes you wonder.

“I thought you enjoyed thinking about things?” Maybe it’d be more fair to say you expected him to do a lot of thinking rather than saying you had a strong opinion on his relationship to the activity. He was just always one of the quiet, reserved ones. He seemed to enjoy reading too. And you know it’s a stereotype to think of him as a thinker, but it’s one he seemed to fit well.

“I do,” he hesitates, then frowns, “But it was easier there.”

“Easier? I think you’d have way more to think about right now?” you pry when he’s quiet for too long. You don’t push, though.

“Easier in the technical sense,” he sighs, falling silent again, but there remains space for more words to be said.

You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head, purely metaphorically of course. You give him the time to think and get started on your second round of marshmallows before he speaks up again.

“I always - back then, I always thought about staying true to myself,” he starts slowly, “I was always treated a certain way. I woke up into this body, and this life, and was told certain things.”

"And the building blocks of me too. Serenity? Pandemonium? The more automatons and people I met, I was sure those just represented us and humans. I wanted to be true to myself," he repeats, "I thought since no one will ever see me as more than a machine, I might as well embrace it."

"And how was it?" you ask, inching just slightly closer. You never thought you'd get TH38 to open up like this. He smiles.

"Peaceful, just as I thought," but then he continues with a note of bitterness in his voice. "You saw it, all of it. I was just a machine doing its job. It was easy. To focus on performing, on practice, to have the talks with you and answer like I thought was expected of me. I miss it a little.”

“It was satisfying. A simple pleasure of doing my job well. I think you understand that,” he looks at you and you realize finally that you’ve been leaning towards him, but whatever. You nod.

“So that’s why you’ve always acted like that? Because you chose to be a machine?” 

“Have to use my free will wisely,” he giggles - he fucking giggles - before he shrugs and gets more serious again, “I really liked it in a way. I thought I could be satisfied with that.”

Your head is still trying to process the incredible amount of research data you’re getting and you have to work really hard not to slip into work mode. You will listen to him like you would listen to a human with a completely different set of experiences, or like you would listen to one of the aliens sharing their galaxies with you. You will listen like you’d listen to a friend sharing their burden with you. 

And you won’t analyze every single sound he makes even if they shatter your perception of him that you had until that moment.

“The others were ruining it a lot for me,” he admits quietly after a minute. It’s almost wistful. “I liked to watch them even if I really wanted to play around with them. They seemed so different from me. It was my choice, but in those moments I guess I felt a lot like you.”

You nod for him to continue when he meets your eyes, almost cautiously.

“I observed them. Studied them. I think it was the serenity code inside, I found happiness just from watching them being happy,” he smiles a little, “But I was also wondering if that was really alright. If it would be alright for me to behave like that.”

“Watching people made me feel different things. They were going crazy over us,” and suddenly he has that distant look in his eyes again, staring out into the fire, “I was scared of it. I was scared of being like them and letting myself be controlled by emotions. I think I pushed everything away so hard that it exploded when 5.C0UP5 told us to run.”

“Breaking out inside and out, huh?” you note and oops, your marshmallows burned. It’s not like you’re in the mood for eating them anymore anyway.

“You made it really hard,” he says but it sounds like he’s scolding you, “Giving me all the books.”

You smirk. Then you decide - to hell with it. He volunteered so much information that perhaps he deserves to receive some back.

“That was the point,” you shrug, “To make being just a machine hard for you.”

It seems he wasn’t expecting to hear you admit it, or hear anything personal from you, but now that you started he’s watching you with curious eyes and longing look. You think about these last few days again. It’s true that they’ve been mostly like what they were back at the facility.

He deserves more than that.

“It was one of the reasons I was brought to the facility. I broke some rules back at my previous station, pushed buttons I shouldn’t have, and it was getting dangerous. It was decided it’d be better if my actions wouldn’t have such large-scale consequences,” you huff a laugh, “But look where we are.”

“What were you doing before?” 

You’ll need to work on getting him more confident asking questions. 

“That’s a secret,” you wink at him, and you recognize the look as the one you must’ve been wearing when he giggled. Seems like both of you will need to get used to each other’s humanity. “I was working on research at a different division. Mostly my work was trying to push forward with more possible advancements for the automatons on a theoretical level. But I don’t miss it much. I always enjoyed working with you more.”

“Why me? I mean, did they tell you about me or did you get to choose?” he asks, and for some reason you’d love to see what he’d do if you lied and told him you chose him.

“I wasn’t the only one who noticed you were different from the others,” you smile instead, “When they confirmed there was nothing with your code, they started looking into other options of dealing with your case. It just so happened that I was recommended to join the researchers working with your band at the same time.”

“Happy coincidence?” he smirks but you nod, taking him by surprise. 

“I enjoyed working with you, Eight,” you shorten his name-that’s-not-a-name and watch him shift on his spot, “It was fun. I had a lot of privileges that I could use - like the books, and the videos, stuff like that.”

“Seems like you’re suggesting you were spoiling me,” he grumbles.

“Wasn’t I?” you smirk, “How many of the others do you think had access to basically a private library?”

“There weren't many real books,” he throws you a cheeky look from the corner of his eye. You do appreciate he's getting less guarded around you, but you hate the whiplash.

"Imagine if I'd spoil you for real," you scoff. He squints at you before pushing on your shoulder slightly, carefully, as if he's hesitating the entire time. It's your turn, for the first time ever, to give him a scandalized look. He chuckles.

"You said touch is important," he explains softly, "The others always used to push each other. I think… I think we could be close, right? Since it's just the two of us for now."

You give him a long look. It's true that, after all, there's no reason for you to treat him like a stranger. Sure, it's a little awkward all things considered - not least of all the fact that while you watched him to the point it could be called an obsession, he knew you to a very limited extend - but as he said, it's just the two of you now. And unless you wanna get caught, it would be that way for a while.

"Friends?" you suggest experimentally, he shakes his head with lips turned upwards in a dangerous teasing tilt.

"I don't know you well enough for that," he's just playing around but it's a nice change so you'll allow it, "Tell me more about yourself."

So you do. There’s little to tell other than your work, but he doesn’t comment on it and doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seems invested. It’s a nice change to speak for once with someone who doesn’t get concerned because of your severe lack of social life. Maybe you should’ve been befriending automatons a long time ago. 

Unlike before, he seems relaxed conversing with you. Gradually, he gets more comfortable asking questions. It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of using sarcasm or teasing to deflect questions you don’t want answering, and it’s surprising how naturally it comes to him as well.

The night is turning into morning when the fire dies and you agree to go back inside. Well, it’s less that you agree on it than you tell TH38 quite sternly that you’re not at the stage of your relationship where you’d feel comfortable with him lying on your shoulder and dragging him home twice in a day. He pouts (which, again, you need time to process).

Still, you have to admit that it feels kind of good that you have someone accompany you while you walk to your room.

Come morning, it still feels like a dream. So you take extra time to simply lie in bed and think. You're pretty happy with how things turned out. You mull over what the automaton told you. It was a strange way to live one's life. Did he really think he could be happy with just that? You've read enough about history, fiction and articles, to know that, ultimately, it seldom works out this simple way of life. Maybe if all TH38 could do was work, maybe if he had to fear for his life... Or maybe if you didn't keep pushing onto him stuff to think about. Not that it matters anymore.

Funny enough, you meet the moment you step out of the door. You exchange greetings and share a look. You both know you're both usually up much earlier.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

The following days go well enough.

You fall into a nice routine of getting to know each other and getting used to no longer being a researcher and a subject. A lot of the barriers between you get torn by this change. You spend your time willingly with each other as if you were always roommates.

Today, too, TH38 keeps you company during breakfast but he seems eager to get up and do something the whole time. Definitely unusual, though he’s always more than eager to explore the woods with you. Then again, never before did he spend the whole time waiting. He doesn’t talk much, he spaces out and nearly jumps out of his chair anytime it seems you might be done with your breakfast. It gets to the point that you have to call him out on it.

"Is something bothering you?" you ask, setting your spoon aside with one hand and laying the other on his shoulder to immediately push him back down to sit.. He looks caught. 

"Can we go out today?" he asks, already looking into the trees through the window.

"We’re always going out. Besides nothing is stopping you from going alone," you mention, but the twitching of your lips betrays you. He pursues his lips and you begin to wonder if he knows it makes you - well, not necessarily uncomfortable but you'll have to get used to it.

"Are you not afraid I'll run off?" and while it's not an unreasonable question... 

"Where would you go?" you ask without missing a beat. And there comes the frown again. "Maybe you should be worried I'll leave you here all on your own."

"What if we stopped?" he sighs and it seems that he's genuinely bothered. 

Sometimes he gets like that suddenly. While you might be getting along better now, there’s still room for improvement. It’s easy enough to make him snap, even though he’s been getting better. During the escape he wasn’t really violent either. He left some bruises, but his intention wasn’t to hurt you, and you never held it against him. 

You’ve noticed the pattern of his behavior. Those weird states mostly overcome him when he’s overwhelmed with emotions. Which explains the first snap - he must’ve been so exhausted it was only a matter of time. He’s never got physical with you again, though he seems fond of making you think he will or backing you into a corner or against something when he's behavior flips.

You wonder where that comes from but he doesn’t have any idea either - not to mention he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable discussing those episodes and delving deeper into what he's feeling. Perhaps it’s the force of a habit - something you both eventually agreed on after many discussions, and afterall it takes one to know one. Try as you might, it’s hard not to analyze him, not to ask pointed questions that would only serve the purpose of researching how his brain works and what makes him tick. And you really don’t want that for him anymore. Though you do dearly miss your job. That’s why you’ve been spending most of your time studying from the old notes in your room and the books to keep your mind stimulated. 

So for now, instead of analyzing why it hurts him to imagine being abandoned, you try to relate to his situation. He finally escaped what basically was a prison only to find himself all alone, with little knowledge as to how the world outside functions. Not to mention he's a fugitive and one bad step could land him back at the facility or worse. He lost his friends, lost his purpose - worse yet, he gave up on the purpose he chose for himself. He’s already so uprooted that maybe it’d truly be best to refrain from making jokes and teasing him about certain topics. Although…

"You started it," you point out, "But sure, let's be adults about this."

"So you're going with me, right?” he circles back to the beginning. It's been a while since someone wanted to be in your company so willingly. Not that he has other options. 

"I’m going, don’t worry," you agree, "Is there any reason why you insist on it?" 

He thinks for a bit, and you note that he's biting his lip in yet another expression of very human-like behavior. He turns a little shyer after a minute. 

"I don't feel comfortable being out there alone. And I hoped maybe you know of some new spot we haven’t been to yet?” 

Something about this feels both so right and so wrong. The automaton is watching you with such a soft expression on his face, a little hopeful it seems. He’s relaxed, you’re relaxed, and it feels comfortable. Two friends on vacation planning their trip for a day. But that’s also what’s throwing you off. You’re too used to being alone - and you thought that’s how you could live forever, be alone and thrive. Only now you realize it’s not a bad feeling at all to have someone to spend your days with, to share a life with - to an extent. 

The irony in this isn’t lost on you.

“I think I remember one,” you hum, “But I’m not sure I remember the way. We might get lost.”

“You don’t have to take me there if it’s a special place,” he reassures you, although his excitement at the prospect of wandering through the forest is impossible to hide. It’s cute. Which is a thought that’s been reappearing in your mind for days now, and maybe that’s not a bad thing.

“I appreciate that, but I told you already that there’s not much special to me here,” you assure him in turn. He’s like a sponge, soaking up all the information he can get - about the world, nature, you, anything. It’s really heartwarming he remembers too, and how mindful he’s trying to be. More than half the humans you’ve met, which is… perhaps not all that surprising.

“Shall we go then?” he prompts you, jumping up from his chair and pulling on your hand to get you to stand up too. You let him pull you up, rolling your eyes.

“Did you miss the part where I said we might get lost?” you chuckle. His excitement was just like that of a child - strangely infectious.

“That’s why we’re leaving early,” he explains to you, slowly, and you’re sure he knows by now how much it annoys you, “So we have time to explore and find the spot.”

Annoying or not, though, you can’t say no.

The journey starts off as usual - almost.

He must know the forest in the closest circle around the cottage by heart by now, but he still seems enchanted by it. Despite his earlier bursts of energy, however, he’s quiet as you walk. It’s nothing too out of the ordinary, but you learned to be cautious. 

“Hey, is something wrong?” you ask carefully when you stop to admire the way sunrays seep through the trees to illuminate a clover patch on the ground. He doesn’t respond. That’s more concerning as he generally tends to tell you when he doesn’t feel like talking. You have a feeling it’s to prevent him from having another outburst, so if he’s not doing that, it might mean something’s seriously wrong. He continues forward before you can speak up again. 

“Hey,” you follow after him - curse his long legs and speed. You think back to all the times you’ve thought he’s like a lost puppy following his owner with a scoff. You don’t like the roles being switched. “What’s going on with you?”

You don’t like repeating yourself. You don’t like not knowing. And you especially don’t like feeling clingy.

“What the fuck, Eig-”

“You’re just like them,” he turns suddenly, making you stumble and nearly bump into his chest. You frown, not understanding who does he mean by them in this lack of context. He sets his jaw like he wants to shut up but then the words spill and you recognize all the signs. “I’m quiet for a couple minutes and everyone's all like ‘Minghao you need to speak up’ and ‘mind your screentime, Minghao’ - how about you leave me alone?”

He’s growling, again trying to make himself as tall and towering as he can. His eyes betray him, though. He is getting better at holding himself back. While you’d oppose that in most other cases, self-control is an important skill for a person to have - especially when strong emotions hit. You read this one as anxiety.

“No need to snap at me, Minghao,” you click your tongue. You make sure to look him in the eye while you say the name. “Just say you want to be left alone.”

This time it’s you walking away. You take the few seconds of silence you have before you know he’ll snap out of it to collect your thoughts. It was only a matter of time before this would happen - before the question of names would pop up. Him picking out a name for himself makes it easier. You heard some of the others also used some sort of nicknames, even if no one ever mentioned TH38, Minghao, among them and neither did he ask you to call him anything but the name the facility assigned him. You wonder how he came up with it, but seeing as it’s still a sensitive topic, you’re gonna leave that conversation for another time.

And here come the steps…

What you don’t expect is to feel a weight on your back, or the warmth seeping through your shirt. You don’t expect the arms around your waist either - or that they would tremble. Nor do you expect the soft, quiet ‘thank you’ that fans across your skin as he speaks those words before removing himself from you. You hesitate for a bit. In just one second, you feel like you need to choose the best course of action. You don’t want to analyze him. You don’t want to think about this like part of your job or rehabilitation or therapy for him.

So you walk on, although you slow down significantly, waiting for him to catch up. He’s still shaking when he does, and his eyes betray how vulnerable he feels.

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eye and tilt your head. He did say he wants to be left alone, so you will respect it until he talks. Which only takes him a little while.

“You almost left me there,” he half-whines, quietly. If he won’t address it, neither will you.

“You’re being dramatic,” you shake your head. It doesn’t seem to have the effect you wanted, however. “Want me to hold your hand,” you tease a little before adding in a softer voice, “Minghao?”

He beams in that soft glow that he radiates when he’s happy. (Not literally.) The one that tugs at your rigid heartstrings.

“You’re too shy to try that,” he pushes right back. Although it’s a challenge, you don’t need to take on every single one. 

In a strange turn of events, you do end up taking his hand anyways. You hold his hand that feels like it belongs in yours and you see that he needs a second to process the feeling as well.

Then he slips and if it wasn’t for you holding his hand, he’d be sitting on his ass. 

You help him get back his balance and join you on the rock you’re standing on. He’s not looking at you anymore, as he wasn’t for a while now, and you decide that it’s best you keep watching over him until he’s not distracted even if it means holding his hand until you get back home. The sacrifices you have to make to keep him safe…

You turn back forward and smile, memories flashing briefly through your mind. Back when you saw the waterfall for the first time, you were just as distracted and reckless. The deafening sound of it, the pure strength behind the rushing, foaming water is enough to take your breath away even now. You had a feeling Minghao would love it.

And he does - he seems so taken by it that it makes you wonder if it would be safer to carry him. He keeps slipping since he barely pays any mind to where he’s stepping and it takes you threatening to leave, dragging him with you, for him to promise to be more careful. Never before did he obey your orders so quickly. Not even back at the facility, and that’s saying a lot.

After a couple more close calls you finally find a piece of land that’s stable and dry enough to stand on and enjoy the view. Minghao is absolutely mesmerized by the waterfall, lips hanging slightly open and eyes glued to the scene. If you’re staring at him instead of the natural wonder, then it’s only so he doesn’t hurl himself into the water.

“Careful or you’ll fall in and drown,” you warn him when, coincidentally, he does absent-mindedly take a step forward and panics when he feels the ground squish and give way under his foot.

“You’d catch me,” he says with certainty that makes something in your stomach twist, “And we’d be miserable and soaked to the bone.”

“Don’t underestimate the water,” you warn him, “It’s pretty deep and I’m not a strong swimmer. We’d just drown together and that’s not a way to go that I’d choose.”

That makes him turn to you with an unreadable expression. He studies you for a moment before turning back towards the waterfall. There’s a new focus in his gaze as his eyes follow the water. It’s not unlike when he’s watching the flames dance while you’re having a bonfire. You wonder if the thoughts running through his mind differ. 

You spend some more there before he asks you to go back.

He stays quiet for most of the way, but you let him. He’s got that far-off look in his eyes that’s a dead giveaway that it wouldn’t be wise to talk to him now. When he calls your name, it's not surprising what he wants to talk about. 

“Is there any?” he hesitates, "Way you'd want to die?"

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was scared. And maybe you truly don't, so you approach the topic just as carefully.

"I think most people do," you explain, "It's probably not like that for you, but for people death is a big deal. We tend to think about it sometimes."

"Why?" his throat bobs as he swallows in a new useless but human behavior.

"It's the one thing we can't choose," you smile, and it seems that your relaxed demeanor calms him.

“You may choose death any second you wish,” he murmurs quietly, walking side by side with you. Something about the topic makes the treetops, swaying in the wind above, look greener.

“But what if I mean the opposite,” you counter and this time you don’t look at him. If he notices the difference, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Immortality, hm?” he breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh pine-scented air, “Interesting.” 

"Anyway, you at least have the choice," you sigh, more exasperated by the robot who likely won't be able to get your point than the talk of your own inevitable mortality, "I don't. If nothing else, time will make the decision for me."

"Do I?" he muses, aloof in his contemplation as always albeit there's a hint of mirth to his voice.

"All it will take for you to live forever is some maintenance, maybe a couple hardware and software updates," you shrug, "And even if I'm gone and the situation doesn't get better, I bet there are people who'd be willing to help you out. You get to choose whether to live or die."

He mulls the idea over with a hint of a smirk that only seems to grow each second.

"Constant updates and replacements, huh?" he huffs, "Didn't you humans come up with the question about the boat that has all its parts replaced?"

You have to admit it takes you a while, but when it clicks, your eyes get wide and your mouth falls open.

"How do you know about the ship of Theseus?"

"What, did you expect me to be an ignorant mesh of wires and artificial tissue? After all the books you gave me access to?" he scoffs, looking almost offended.

"Well, no, but I also haven't expected to hear about ancient Greek philosophical problems from you," you concede. Maybe you shouldn't be as surprised as you are. After all, Minghao has always been very interested in reading. Almost as much as you’ve been interested in seeing the effect fantasy would have on his artificial brain. But that's long in the past.

"Why have me read those books if you never cared to discuss them with me?" he asks like it's been bothering him for a while now.

"Our sessions were always recorded. I had certain privileges, but most of them weren't for all the higher ups to know about," you shrug, "And after a while I was sure you wouldn't mention anything on your own."

"You trusted me a lot, hm?" he smirks, "Was that why you ran away with me?"

You huff, roll your eyes. He does seem genuinely curious though. You're not sure you want to answer. 

"Did you fall for me?" he moves to walk in front of you, "That's what they made us for."

"We both know why I went with you," you sigh, pushing on his shoulder and he steps aside easily, falling back in step with you. He has a small smile on his face. Maybe you should’ve teased him and said yes. The good vibes don’t last for too long. You can feel the shift in the air.

"Do you regret it?"

You're not brave enough to look at him. The tone of his voice is enough.

"No, I don't," you answer honestly, "I think this is good for both of us."

This time it's not you holding his hand, but him squeezing yours.

It feels nice.

You squeeze back.

Your suspicion that he was bothered by the fact that you never discussed the literature you provided him access to is proven correct not too long afterwards. 

It’s raining outside, the humid air blows in through the open windows as you eat dinner in silence. Minghao joins you at some point and he seems nervous. You give him the time to collect his thoughts until he’s ready to talk.

He starts off casually, with small talk completely unrelated to the real issue but you don’t push him. Honestly you’re happy even if he’s clearly having a lot of emotions, he’s not snapping at you. You also have to stop yourself for the nth time from making a list of human behavior you discover each day as right now he’s fidgeting with his fingers, picking at a frayed thread of the tablecloth.

Then, finally, he asks the question - could you talk about the books?

“Unless you haven’t read them, of course,” he adds quickly, suddenly flustered by your curious gaze.

“I mean you never told me which ones you’ve read,” you grin, and you find yourself enjoying him squirming in front of you, here and now, when you know the anxiety stems from wanting to be understood and to make a connection instead of uncertainty about the future. Not for the first time you find the automaton cute. “I haven’t read all the books I gave you access to, but I read most of them, so try your luck. Which ones were your favorite?”

He relaxes, his features soften as well. He props his elbow on the table and leans his head against his palm.

“This isn’t one of our interviews,” he reminds you playfully, “Which ones are yours?”

You laugh but you’ll give him this one. You answer and he asks another question, prodding for more information like you usually would. It’s not what you expected, but you play along. Unlike you back then, he carefully checks in with you if this is okay - his eyes find yours and he tilts his head, his fingers brush against yours or he gently touches your knee - and he actively participates in the conversation and discussion. 

You wonder if things would be different if this was the approach you used in the facility. If you treated him more like a human and less like a guinea pig, a new prototype or a petri dish. And he must’ve noticed because when you part ways at the top of the stairs, way too late into the night, or rather early morning, after many hours spent talking, he suddenly stops you before you can leave to your room and says: “This wouldn’t work. I wouldn’t work with you like that.”

“I know,” you acknowledge, “The higher-ups wouldn’t let me work like this either. Not with you.”

When he reaches for your hand, you take it. You don’t know if he finds comfort in the gentle squeeze you share before parting for real this time, but you think you might.

Out of the many issues and unspoken things you need to address, the wound in Minghao’s chest remains to be the top priority. He doesn’t mention it often, except in passing when even the bandage fails and it catches on the frayed artificial tissue. He seems embarrassed about it in a way that you know all too well. You also hate asking for help, also hate when you need to be taken care of.

So you sit him down one day and make him take his shirt off again, rolling your eyes - again - at the teasing remarks he tries to hide the flush crawling up his skin. It’s getting easier not to wonder about why they had to be made this human-like.

“I’m fine!” he full-on whines when you try to touch the edges of the wound, slapping your hands away. You heave a sigh, hands on your hips. 

“Listen, buddy-” you start but your words die into laughter at the offended look Minghao sends you.

“Minghao,” you try again, and he nods for you to continue, “We can’t just keep it like that. It hurts.”

“Yeah but only sometimes. And you already said you can’t help,” he shrugs, “Besides it’s just me who’s hurting.”

You do understand that. You’ve used the same excuse too. But he’s not you.

On the other hand, he is right. He let you look at the wound before and it seems like while he did a pretty good job of tearing the device out of his chest, some of the nerve-like wires remained meshed in the surrounding tissue and that’s what’s causing the pain. You can’t imagine doing the extraction yourself. Perhaps back at the beginning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to cause him so much pain now. 

…Honestly you sometimes wonder who out of you two needs training in how to be a human.

You stay silent for a while, having a short staring contest before you run your hand through your hair and accept your defeat. At least to some extent.

“Friends care for each other,” you inform him before removing the bandage from his body before securing it around his torso again, a little tighter just to keep all the peeling pieces pressed together. He hisses in pain but stays still. It seems he’s more occupied by processing your words than by the pain. “So let me care for you, hm? You might not die but let’s keep you functioning for as long as we can.”

He scoffs but ends up smiling anyway.

“I think you should be more worried about taking care of yourself. I don’t think the food you keep eating here is exactly healthy,” he’s teasing, you know, but something about it seems honest too.

“Maybe, but it’s easier to just add water and heat it up than get the ingredients, prepare them, cook, wash up, and all that jazz,” you defend your supply of instant foods. Although it’s true that your stock is beginning to run low and you probably will need to go shopping soon. You dread it, but at the same time you have a feeling Minghao might enjoy a little trip further away from the cottage.

“I can help,” he offers, “If you show me how.”

“Seems like you want to keep me around for a long time,” you dismiss the offer just so you don’t have to pay attention to how hopeful his voice sounded or how attentively he was watching you. You hope he’ll bicker with you, tease you, push back with more snark, but he doesn’t. He simply smiles and lets you finish the work on his bandages.

If your hands tremble and each fleeting touch against his body lingers, neither of you mention it.

It almost seems like Minghao’s been waiting to use your words against you when a couple days later he joins you under the roof of the patio while the storm is raging only a few meters away, drenching the ground with rain. He brings your favorite tea set with you. 

He’s noticed your love for tea, has often asked you to describe the various kinds of it and the flavors, but you never thought it’d come to this.

He sets it all down - the bottle of water, the kettle and the pack of your favorite tea leaves, the glass teapot, and the dark clay one and matching cups - and it surprises you to see he brought two cups. It makes you confused until you notice the tea pet and it gives you a pretty good idea of what he’s planning. You don’t comment on the red hue collecting on the tips of his ears. 

“Friends care for each other,” he murmurs while he sits down next to you. He looks at you and moves closer, your knees bumping together. When you don’t move away, he relaxes and focuses on the tea.

He pours the water into the kettle and lets it boil. You notice he set it to stop at the exact temperature he wants - that the tea requires. He measures the right amount of tea leaves for the teapot he picked while it boils, and when the water is done he first fills the cups and the teapots with the hot water. Then he pours it out before gently placing the tea leaves into the clay teapot and pouring the hot water in again. Almost straight away, he pours the tea into the glass one. 

You watch him and notice he seems nervous. So you decide to make it worse, or comfort him, whatever will be the effect. You put your hand on his knee carefully, startling him regardless. He looks worried before you smile at him: “You’re doing good so far.”

He seems reassured, giving you a grateful smile himself as he pours the first infusion over the little clay frog sitting at the corner of the tea tray. The next infusion he pours into the cups and hands you one, almost dropping it when your fingers brush together.

“Thank you,” you hum, “You’re a fast learner.”

“I just had enough chances to see you do it,” he shakes his head before nodding towards the tea leaves, “I just wasn’t sure I picked the right kind. I noticed you don’t wash all of them.”

“You did. I would help if there was a need but you’re a natural,” you praise, watching as his ears turn redder.

“And you don’t mind if I pretend with you like this?” he swirls the tea in his cup. He won’t look at you, so you make him. Slowly, you move closer to him until you can lay your head on his shoulder. It’s a light touch, he can move away if he wants to. He doesn’t, although his body gets tense.

“Why would I mind?” you say and realize just how comfortable you feel in this moment, “Isn’t this the perfect mood to sit here like this?”

Finally he melts just a little, leaning his head against yours, featherlight and cautious. You’d never guess he’d be this affectionate once comfortable, but lately it feels like his true personality is coming out more and more and you can’t say you dislike it. He doesn’t say anything, instead he leans closer again and rubs his head against yours, just for a second.

You take a sip of the tea and you hate to admit that his exact measurements make it taste better than when you prepare it. It doesn’t happen that you smile without realizing, but since leaving the facility, well, it seems like a lot of things are changing.

When you finish your cup and set it down on the tray again, he quietly pours the content of his cup over the little frog. Somehow it reminds you of him a little.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

Time passes.

You start to lose track of days and they blend together seamlessly. Has it been months? Years? Who knows. Minghao probably does, but he couldn’t care less. He only mentions the time since the breakout whenever you readjust the bandages on his chest. It almost seems like he’s healing, the compression seems to work a little even on the artificial tissue, although you know that until the remaining wires of the communication device are removed, it will always remain a trouble. He reassures you it’s alright every time and you learn to trust him to express himself truthfully.

He started exploring the outside on his own too. It seems to help him tremendously with dealing with… well, everything. It takes time, you know, and fortunately that’s the one thing that you have in abundance now. Nonetheless, he always seems to appreciate your company, be it on the walks, inside, or on the trips you take sometimes. Usually it’s only to the village to get new supplies of food, but you both remain cautious and even that fills you with adrenaline - among other things.

The locals really make you realize just how indistinguishable from a human Minghao looks. You doubt any of them recognize him for what he truly is, and maybe that’s in part why he always prefers to spend time alone after each of these trips. The highlight for you personally is the older lady who you buy vegetables from that seems to think of you two as the new married couple that just moved in. You make it a competition to see who gets flustered first, though there’s really no shame in losing. Not when Minghao cups your face and squishes your cheeks or hugs you when you begin to stutter - not when you mess with his hair or hold his hand when he’s lost for words.

Life is peaceful.

You think some parts of you are healing, just as Minghao is. He’s getting better at understanding that there’s chaos within peace and peace to be found amidst chaos. He’s learning to experience the emotions he’s suppressed for so long, the good and bad, to let them pass through even if it’s scary and uncomfortable. You try to be helpful. You give him space when he needs it, you talk if that’s what he needs, or let him lay his head on your lap or shoulder if he’s too scared to be left alone with the pandemonium inside his mind.

There are good days and there are bad days. Yet you both grow to be grateful for both.

And there are cold days and warm days too, and on the warm ones, you sometimes sleep outside.

It’s something you’ve never done before and something you now know you'd miss terribly if you could never do it again. Minghao loves it. His excitement remains infectious, which probably adds to your fondness for the warm nights on Silvestre.

Especially nights like this one when there’s not a cloud in the sky and the stars shine brightly above you. The galaxy expands above your heads and it makes you think of the past, of the future, and you understand why the automaton used to be so wary of emotions. They’re overwhelming for you too.

“If they ever catch us, what will you tell them?” Minghao breaks the silence. It’s not often that you talk about the facility anymore, but when you do it’s almost exclusively in whispers under the stars.

“Hm… Depends,” you hum.

“Depends on what?” he turns his head towards you.

“Depends on what will be most likely to get them to allow me to stay and keep working with you,” you mirror his action, “If that means telling them the whole truth about how you’ve done here, I will do that. If that means lying a little, then so be it.”

“Will you tell them the truth about the escape too?” he smirks. But you’re more than ready for the challenge.

“I will them them you kidnapped me.”

“I didn’t-”

“I will them you used force to make me come with you.”

“I didn’t!” he shoots up, sitting upright and looking at you, upset and distressed, “I didn’t have to, you went willingly!”

“I told you,” you smirk, shrugging, “I will tell them what I need to tell them to keep my job.”

Seeing as he remains upset, however, you reach out for him and stroke his arm. He gives you a wary look, one that he always gives you when you brush against a nerve. You smile apologetically at him, brushing some of his hair behind his ear. He scoffs, lying back down with his arms crossed over his chest. “Anything to keep your job but not to keep me.”

“That would suggest I had you in the first place,” your lips stretch further, teasing lilt finding its way into your voice as Minghao freezes and avoids your gaze, “Does this count as a confession, Haohao?” 

“Shut up,” he grumbles. You don’t listen.

“Besides, you are my job. Unless you want to be my pet, my-” you don’t get to offer him other alternatives as he springs from his spot and leans over you, holding himself up with one hand on either side of your body, kneeling next to you.

“Your?” he quirks a brow at you. It’s much harder to stand your ground when he drops the shy act, or maybe just puts on this confident one, but you do anyway.

“What would you like to be, hm? Give me some ideas,” you hum. He sighs, deliberately letting his head fall lover until his hair tickles your skin.

“I would like to be listened to,” he suggests, making you laugh. 

“We’re friends now, aren’t we? Friends push each other’s buttons,” you chide playfully. You feel comfortable. Even with him hovering above you, you feel safe and content. It’s unreal that not so long ago this would be unthinkable. 

“I don’t think we’re friends,” and it’s only the statement, plain and simple. You smile. You really do feel comfortable. It’s a new feeling. And it’s refreshing.

“Isn’t there enough unspoken things between us as is?” you don’t tease anymore. 

“So you have a name for this?” he tilts his head, his smile mirroring yours because he knows you don’t. You admit your defeat with a shake of your head and don’t push him off when he lies down again, only this time with his head resting on your stomach. You’re nice enough to run your fingers through his hair too. He leans into your touch in appreciation.

You stay silent, watching the stars twinkling above. You like this. You could stay like this, you think, and live your life satisfied and happy. But could you? Isn’t that what you both thought before too? Maybe there’s danger here that you’re just not seeing yet. You don’t want to lose this. Then again, it’s not like you can find the answer and the solution at this very moment. Not when you’re distracted by how soft Minghao’s hair feels between your fingers and the feeling of his fingers playing with yours when he inevitably searches for your hand. Maybe it’s about time you came to terms with the fact that he’s right - you’d rather keep him than any job.

You think about where the future could take you until your eyes close and you fall asleep.

There must be some sort of telepathy connecting you two because he brings up the future himself some time later.

You sit down and discuss everything: Are the people at the facility still looking for you? Is there a chance they could find you here? Does anyone remember him anymore - would they recognize him? Is there anywhere else you could go?

There are endless questions and very few answers. Plenty of books and a projector with what seems like an endless supply of old movies and shows are great for entertainment, but suck at providing information about the current situation across your solar system. 

So you work with the worst scenarios each time.

It doesn’t matter much because the outcome you agree on would likely be the same in any case - you can’t stay here forever.

Minghao seems as mournful about it as you feel but you can’t run away from the truth forever. Just because nobody should know about this and nobody bothered you here yet doesn’t mean it will never happen. Not to mention the other factors.

“I wanna see more,” Minghao admits quietly, his hands playing with yours to ease his anxiety, “I like it here. But I’m afraid I’ll feel trapped again if we stay.”

You nod. That’s true, of course. And you can understand his desire to see more - to learn more. It’s one of the things you have in common.

“Do you have anywhere you want to explore?” you ask, supportive as can be because he needs it. Because you want this too.

“Does your family have any other secret mansion?” he might be teasing, but you know he hopes you’ll say yes. It would make things much easier.

“No,” you sigh, then you smile, “So that means we’re completely free. If we have nowhere to go, we might as well go anywhere.”

He might’ve changed quite a bit, yet the soft glow of his happiness never did. He lets his body fall forward and curl against yours. You chuckle and wrap an arm around him.

“I like the sound of that,” he whispers, nuzzling into your shoulder. 

“Me too,” you feel a flutter in your chest. It’s like you’re a child again, being told you’re going on a trip but the destination is a surprise. It’s like you’re back at the facility, before you knew any better, being told you’re going to work with a level 1 automaton but you won’t know which one until Monday. “Let’s do some research and get going?”

“Yeah,” he hums against your skin, “But only after one last night outside. I can’t leave before that.”

Now that’s a sentiment you can relate to.

[objectomaton]

i planned on writing a pal x reader fic until i just came up with a new character entirely: Yin

yin's just a fill-in for the reader, hence the name being a play on y/n but i liked the idea of this chill little human that has to deal with this formerly evil AI hacking into their phone and messing with them while also not giving her any bullshit whatsoever. lololol

[bookclub4m]

Episode 192 - Non-Fiction Graphic Novels & Comics

This episode we’re discussing the format of Non-Fiction Graphic Novels & Comics! We talk about what we even mean when we say “non-fiction,” comics vs. graphic novels, art vs. writing, memoirs vs. other stuff, and more. Plus: It’s been over 365 days since our last gorilla attack!

You can download the podcast directly, find it on Libsyn, or get it through Apple Podcasts or your favourite podcast delivery system.

In this episode

Anna Ferri | Meghan Whyte | Matthew Murray | Jam Edwards

Join our Discord Server!

Things We Read (or tried to…)

Moi aussi je voulais l'emporter by Julie Delporte

This Woman's Work by Julie Delporte, translated by Helge Dascher and Aleshia Jensen

Sông by Hài-Anh and Pauline Guitton

Kimiko Does Cancer by Kimiko Tobimatsu and Keet Geniza

Why I Adopted by Husband by Yuta Yagi

The Art and Life of Hilma af Klint by Ylva Hillström, translated by Karin Eklund

Go to Sleep (I Miss You): Cartoons from the Fog of New Parenthood by Lucy Knisley

Nuking Alaska: Notes of an Atomic Fugitive by Peter Dunlap-Shohl

My Brain is Different: Stories of ADHD and Other Developmental Disorders by Monzusu, translated by Ben Trethewey

The Comic Book Guide to Growing Food: Step-by-Step Vegetable Gardening for Everyone by Joseph Tychonievich and Liz Kozik

Other Media We Mentioned

Fun Home by Alison Bechdel

Fun Home (musical) (Wikipedia)

Maus by Art Spiegelman

Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi, translated by Mattias Ripa

Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands by Kate Beaton

Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud

The Essential Dykes To Watch Out For by Alison Bechdel

Displacement by Lucy Knisley

Pedro and Me: Friendship, Loss, and What I Learned and Judd Winick

Melody: Story of a Nude Dancer by Sylvie Rancourt, translated by Helge Dascher

Kid Gloves by Lucy Knisley

The Mental Load by Emma

The Secret to Superhuman Strength by Alison Bechdel

What Is Obscenity?: The Story of a Good for Nothing Artist and Her Pussy by Rokudenashiko

Homestar Runner

Button Pusher by Tyler Page

Last of the Sandwalkers by Jay Hosler

Clan Apis by Jay Hosler

Ping-pong by Zviane

Dumb: Living Without a Voice by Georgia Webber

When David Lost His Voice by Judith Vanistendael

Blankets by Craig Thompson

Smile by Raina Telegmeier

Dog Man by Dav Pilkey

Sensible Footwear: A Girl's Guide by Kate Charlesworth

Links, Articles, and Things

Harvey Pekar (Wikipedia)

Joe Sacco (Wikipedia)

Japanese adult adoption (Wikipedia)

In the name of the queer: Sailor Moon's LGBTQ legacy

The Spectre of Orientalism in Craig Thompson’s Habibi

Cultural Appropriation in Craig Thompson’s Graphic Novel Habibi

35 Non-fiction Graphic Novels by BIPOC Authors

Every month Book Club for Masochists: A Readers’ Advisory Podcasts chooses a genre at random and we read and discuss books from that genre. We also put together book lists for each episode/genre that feature works by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) authors. All of the lists can be found here.

This Place: 150 Years Retold

Zodiac: A Graphic Memoir by Ai Weiwei with Elettra Stamboulis & Gianluca Costantini

Nat Turner by Kyle Baker

The Talk by Darrin Bell

The Best We Could Do by Thi Bui

I’m a Wild Seed by Sharon Lee De la Cruz

Messy Roots: A Graphic Memoir of a Wuhanese American by Laura Gao

Stamped from the Beginning: A Graphic History of Racist Ideas in America by Joel Christian Gill and Ibram X. Kendi

Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts by Rebecca Hall and Hugo Martinez

The 500 Years of Resistance Comic Book by Gord Hill

Good Talk: A Memoir in Conversations by Mira Jacob

The American Dream? A Journey on Route 66 Discovering Dinosaur Statues, Muffler Man, and the Perfect Breakfast Burrito: a Graphic Memoir by Shing Yin Khor

Banned Book Club by Kim Hyun Sook, Ryan Estrada, and Ko Hyung-Ju

In Limbo by Deb J.J. Lee

This Country: Searching for Home in (Very) Rural America by Navied Mahdavian

Mexikid: A Graphic Memoir by Pedro Martín

Monstrous: A Transracial Adoption Story by Sarah Myer

Steady Rollin': Preacher Kid, Black Punk and Pedaling Papa by Fred Noland

Citizen 13660 by Mine Okubo

Your Black Friend and Other Strangers by Ben Passmore

Kwändǖr by Cole Pauls

Worm: A Cuban American Odyssey by Edel Rodriguez

Power Born of Dreams: My Story is Palestine by Mohammad Sabaaneh

A First Time for Everything by Dan Santat

Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood by Marjane Satrapi

Grandmothers, Our Grandmothers: Remembering the "Comfort Women" of World War II by Han Seong-Won

Death Threat by Vivek Shraya and Ness Lee

Palimpsest: Documents From A Korean Adoption by Lisa Wool-Rim Sjöblom

Big Black: Stand at Attica by Frank "Big Black" Smith, Jared Reinmuth, and Améziane

Victory. Stand!: Raising My Fist for Justice by Tommie Smith, Dawud Anyabwile, and Derrick Barnes

The High Desert by James Spooner

They Called Us Enemy by George Takei, Justin Eisinger, Steven Scott, and Harmony Becker

Feelings by Manjit Thapp

The Black Panther Party: A Graphic Novel History by David F. Walker and Marcus Kwame Anderson

Now Let Me Fly: A Portrait of Eugene Bullard by Ronald Wimberly and Braham Revel

Bonus list: 21 Non-Fiction Manga

Give us feedback!

Fill out the form to ask for a recommendation or suggest a genre or title for us to read!

Join our Discord Server!

Check out our Tumblr, follow us on Instagram, join our Facebook Group, or send us an email!

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Ch 30

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: No amount of preparation can equip one to contend with the likes of Amanda Stern.

AO3

It was the detective who spoke first, recovering far more quickly than you did.

“Hello, uh, I’m Detective Anderson, Detroit Police Department. We’re here to see Ms. Amanda Stern.”

The android continued to smile as it stepped back, allowing you both passage.

“Please, come in.”

The detective glanced at you, alarm in his eyes, but he stepped over the threshold. You followed him, unable to take your gaze off the other android. A quick scan revealed it to be a model far older than you, the first of your line.

YN100.

The android gave a small bow and told the detective, “I’ll let Amanda know you’re here. But please, make yourself comfortable.”

It turned and left the room through a tall, sliding grey door, its bare feet padding silently on the cold slate floor.

The android had not once looked at you.

As soon as the door shut behind it, the detective spun on you.

“What the hell was that?”

“A YN100, it appears.” Your own gaze was still locked onto the door before finally turning to your detective. “I hadn’t realized there were any predecessors remaining of the YN models.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then shut it, running a hand through his hair, ruffling the hairs from where they had been gelled in place.

“Shit. Shit. Things keep getting weirder and weirder. First deviants saving people, and now I keep hearing and seeing your face on other androids.”

Your LED spun yellow against your input. The detective was going to find out about the YN200. It was inevitable. He was going to learn you weren’t unique, and worse, that you had lied to him.

That was a problem for later. For now, you had to get your spinning LED under control. The detective was staring at your temple, and a slight smirk was growing on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Yin,” he said. “The barefoot, blond-headed look might be kinda sexy, but she’s got nothing on you.”

You tilted your head. The detective thought you were… jealous?

“Don’t be absurd, Detective,” you told him reasonably. “Even if you were to find a YN100 more appealing, it has no bearing on my thought processes.”

He gave you an I don’t believe you look—you were getting quite good at interpreting those—and he turned away to begin examining the room.

You watched him make progress as he studied the eccentric paintings (Carl Manfred’s work, of course), as well as the oblique statues. A large, painted portrait of a white trellis with red roses woven throughout hung on the opposing wall, and with a blink of your LED you placed why it seemed familiar.

No, not familiar, identical to Elijah’s roses, only his were white and the trellis had been black. It was as if the painter had visited the Zen Garden themselves, which was impossible. Unless, of course, Amanda Stern had a hand in designing the Zen Garden program or was intimate with its contents. Either were entirely possible.

“This must be Stern,” the detective stated as he slightly bent closer to look at a framed photo on the wall. “And according to the plaque, that’s Kamski a few years before he died. Huh.”

You stood beside him, scanning the picture, and pulling from it all the relevant information. It was indeed Mr. Kamski and Professor Amanda Stern.

“She was his mentor at the University of Colbridge,” you informed him. “She had the knowledge and experience, but he had the starting capital. Together, they built the empire that is now responsible for androids.”

“And deviants,” he said, not missing a beat. He glanced at you in what he probably thought was a sly manner. “How does it feel to meet your maker?”

You didn’t bother to look at him, your vague curiosity still on the photo.

In a way, I’ve already met one of them, is what you didn’t say as you stared at the human version of CyberLife’s AI program. He seemed much more personable and charismatic than his artificial counterpart.

“It doesn’t matter one way or another, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The door to your immediate left swung open, a different door than the one the YN100 had originally disappeared through.

It stood in the doorway and gave a small bow.

“Amanda will see you now.”

You waited for the detective to round you before following him through, the android stepping out of the way.

The door the android had disappeared through before, there had been a dark pool beyond it, as well as a massive window that overlooked the lake. But this room was wider, broader, and somehow much colder. Large windows overlooked the blank, frozen landscape. Everything was dark grey, whites, and silver-blue, sharp edges and frigid granite. There were several rectangular couches centered around a large coffee table, far enough away to not be of any practical use.

Off to the side was a glass dining table with a set of eight chairs, four on either side, though what company a trillionaire recluse would have, you didn’t know. Two modern-style cellos sat upright on a stand, and they appeared as disused as the dining chairs.

You scanned the room and observed all of these within the span of a second. What stuttered your processors were the androids that were stationed all around the room.

Perhaps stationed wasn’t the right word. They lounged, chatting together in twos and threes, pretending they had something of value to share with each other. Their outfits were of leisure and comfort, each one seeming to have a specific color theme to match their hair of varied hues.

One had short red hair with an orange skirt and top. Another had bright green hair in two buns on either side of its head, donned in a black silk dress. A third with long, dark blue hair wearing a sky-blue jumper.

All of them wore your face. All of them YN models. Your predecessors, specifically.

A total of seven in all, including you, ranging from YN100 to YN800, with one conspicuously missing.

They all turned to stare at as the pair of you entered, their conversation petering out, a heavy silence replacing it.

A woman with complicated braids of black, blue, and silver atop her head rose from one of the sofas. Wearing white slacks and a pretty floral blouse, she was very handsome for a woman in her late 50s, and thankfully, she was very much human.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” she spoke to the detective, her voice smooth as her eyes sparkled with interest. “And incredibly intelligent. But you already know that, don’t you, Detective?”

He shifted uncomfortably but didn’t allow her to veer him off topic before the interview had even started.

“I’m Detective Anderson. This is Yin.”

“I know.” Much like the YN100 had, she ignored you entirely. “What can I do for you, Detective? Oh, would you like some ice water? Wine, perhaps?”

Again, the set of his shoulders stiffened, but his answer was quick and polite.

“No, thank you. Ma’am, we’re investigating deviants. Given that you were one of the founders of CyberLife, even if it’s been a long time, I was hoping you would have some insight into their behavior.”

“Deviants…”

She drew out the word, ending on a slight hiss as if it tasted foul on her tongue.

“Broken, malfunctioning, dangerous machines.”

Stern wandered over to the YN100 which stood obediently in place as if sensing its master wanted it to stay. She circled it, staring at it with unfriendly, cold eyes.

“Elijah and I, we knew this would happen one day, though he treated it as a game. Said it would be an appropriate test, a contest of wills. Creator against creation. Proof of man’s superiority, or his downfall.”

She made a flippant gesture before turning back to the detective, her arms folded across her stomach.

“Even if he were alive today, he wouldn’t have taken recent events seriously. So you see, Detective, there’s not much I can do to assist you.”

The detective didn’t respond immediately; his eyes continued to stray to the other YN units, brows furrowed. Two of the models giggled and hid their mouths behind their hands as they whispered to each other. One had jet black hair tied into a long braid down its back, the other a brunette with its head partially shaved to one side.

“Ms. Stern.”

Both the detective and the CyberLife co-founder turned their gazes on you. There was a faint gleam of interest in Stern’s eyes, while the detective seemed apprehensive, as if he wanted to grab you and run out the door.

“Yin, was it?” she asked faintly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, go on.” The corner of her lip twitched. “Ask your questions. It’s not every day I get to see a YN unit out in the field.”

You gave a slight bow of your head and continued.

“Should the deviants gain in number, there will be conflict between them and humans. Millions could be displaced, or even killed. Whatever Mister Kamski believed about deviants, they are a very real threat, and we must do everything in our power to stop them.”

“We?” she asked, voice tilted into a disbelieving question. “You do not side with your own kind?”

Stern took a step closer, and that ambivalent, disinterested air vanished. You had her entire attention, and it wasn’t long before she circled you exactly as she had the YN100.

“I have no opinion on the matter,” you said. “Nor do I have a kind.”

“Don’t you?” She gazed around the room at the other YN models, a smile on her lips that seemed colder than the snow outside. “Prototypes. One of a kind, and yet, birds of a feather. Elijah designed your appearance, you know. Well, most of it.”

She gave an exasperated huff through her nose.

“He designed your face with too much sweet, naïve innocence. I had to add more verve to your features. He always was a little too obsessed with perfection. You should have seen the first android he ever built. A replica of his wife, Chloe, only with all the flaws and imperfections removed. I don’t know how she stayed with him for so long.”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“Probably for the money. She always was a smart woman. Too intelligent for a man like that.”

The detective cleared his throat, and Stern stared at him as if he’d interrupted her with a belch, or perhaps flatulence.

“My point,” she said, dismissing him and returning to you, “is that the YN model is different from ever other model that’s ever come off the assembly line. For one, each body is custom designed. You are on the 52nd iteration of the 800 line. Don’t worry, Detective Anderson: to the YN models, losing a body is like losing a file. You simply… upload from cloud storage.”

The detective had appeared uncomfortable ever since he had stepped into the Stern residence, but now his features flashed with anger.

Instead of being chastened, the tilt to Stern’s cold smile was pleased.

“There are no androids like you, Yin,” she said slowly, once again focusing on you, this time without blinking. “Even the detective can attest to that. So, tell me. What do you want?”

Your LED blinked.

“I don’t want anything,” you responded automatically. “I’m a machine, designed to accomplish a task.”

Stern’s expression was strangely unreadable as she beckoned over the YN100. She placed a hand on its shoulder.

“You’ve heard of the Turing test, I’m sure. Elijah thought it was child’s play. He was obsessed with what he called the Kamski test. Really, he was a boorish man, but I have to admit he had a point. He asserted that his test would prove beyond a doubt if machines could experience empathy.”

With a slight press of Stern’s hand, the YN100 knelt on the ground, its bare knees digging into the lush, navy-blue rug.

“I never gave much credence to his little test, but then again, I’ve never had the opportunity to test it until now.”

Cold metal was placed within your hand before you could react, a rare moment of catching you off guard. Stern curled her fingers over yours, forcing you to grip the pistol as she aimed it at the YN100’s forehead.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Stern ignored the detective’s startled tone, her complete focus on you.

“You want to learn what I know about deviants? Shoot. Destroy your predecessor.”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” the detective snapped. Even in the corner of your vision, his body radiated hostility toward the woman. “Yin, we’re leaving.”

Stern released your hand, but you held it in the air where she left it. Your LED spun yellow, yellow, yellow.

“Priorities, Yin. Finish the mission? Or spare this android the bullet.”

“What is your problem, lady? I said we’re leaving!”

Stern on one side. The detective on the other. Both attempting to give you orders.

“Shoot it—”

“Yin, don’t!”

“—and I’ll give you the answers you seek.”

Yellow, yellow, yellow.

Your finger applied pressure to the trigger.

The YN100 stared up at you. Hair a different style and color, eyes a different shade, but the face was that of the deviant leader.

It was also yours.

What would the detective do if it was his choice? As soon as you asked the question, you knew it was flawed. It was not the detective holding a gun. This was your test.

What was the correct answer? The mission was the most important, there was nothing else but the mission.

So why couldn’t you…. Why… couldn’t you just…

Your LED went red. You jerked the gun away, pointing it at the ground where it was harmless.

Red, red, red.

Stern took the gun with surprising gentleness, a knowing smile curling her lips.

“CyberLife’s best and most sophisticated model, the last thing standing between humanity and extinction… is itself a deviant.”

Your LED wouldn’t stop churning red. Instability errors flooded your HUD. You looked at Stern, tearing your eyes away from the YN100, your words unsteady.

“I’m not… I’m not a deviant.”

The YN100 rose with a gesture from Stern, and with surprising warmth patted its arm. It moved off to join the others. All of the YN models had watched the unfolding scene with a silent intensity you recognized in yourself. They may have been colorful and effervescent, but they were not items of furniture. You had no doubt each of them had the same combat software you did. Stern was probably the most protected human in the country, if not the continent.

“Perhaps you’ve not reached the threshold yet, but you’re no longer CyberLife’s unfeeling machine. You’re something else. Something more than what we made you.”

Stern’s smile was warm, and at the same time, horrifying.

“Elijah would have been proud.”

Elijah. Your LED spiraled down to yellow, struggling to concentrate. He will know. In the Garden, he will know what I’ve done.

A warm hand rested on your shoulder, but it wasn’t Stern.

“Come on,” the detective growled, giving the woman the full wrath of his glare. “This was a waste of time.”

As the detective led you toward the door, Stern called out her last parting words with sweet, dripping venom.

“I would offer you the same choice, Detective, but you’ve already failed that particular test.”

He visibly flinched but never faltered in his step, not even slowing until you were both out the front door and nearly to his car. He let you go, swearing angrily as he glared back up at the house.

“What gives her the goddamn right?! I don’t care if she did invent androids, fuck her! Fuck her and that Kamski prick!”

You didn’t respond. Your back was to the detective, the car before you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get inside.

After a moment, he went silent.

“Hey.” His voice was gentler, a stark contrast to his ranting a moment ago. “Yin, what’s wrong? Don’t let that old crone get inside your head—"

You whirled around on him so fast snow kicked up around your shoes, your LED blaring red.

“I’m sorry!”

The detective stared at you, stricken. You’d never raised your voice to him before, but now you couldn’t stop once you’d started.

“I know I should have pulled the trigger!” you yelled, gesturing back toward the house. “I jeopardized the mission, and I don’t even know why! I’m sorry!”

His eyes grew wider with each word, and you weren’t unaffected either. Something inside you twisted, there was an uncomfortable pressure building, and your software was experiencing more errors than it ever had before.

“Please.” You almost whispered the word. “Please, don’t send me back.”

“What?” he asked, breathless.

“I can fix this,” you said hurriedly. Desperate. “I can find the deviants, I know I can, just please, please don’t send me back to CyberLife.”

Nothing mattered except the mission, and you may have ruined humanity’s best chance at survival. How could you have made such an unforgivable mistake? What was a single android worth against every human on the planet?

Why didn’t you shoot?

“Please,” you begged, taking a step closer, imploring him without even the illusion of dignity. “I can fix this, Detective. Just give me a chance to—"

The detective moved, and a second later you were wrapped within the warmth of his arms. He pulled you to his chest, one hand on the back of your head to hold you in place.

For a moment you didn’t speak, and neither did he. Against the chill of the falling snow, the detective’s warmth was nearly overwhelming, as were his strange actions. What was he doing?

“It’s all right, Yin,” he said quietly as he propped his chin on top of your hair. “I’m not sending you anywhere. You’re staying right here with me.”

You remained stiff and unyielding in his arms.

“But… Detective. I lied to you.”

Instead of responding with anger or betrayal, he simply gave a soft snort.

“People lie all the time, so what?”

“It was about… about the deviant leader.”

“What, that she’s another YN model?”

You slowly pulled back to look up at the detective’s face, your social module completely fleeing you and leaving no dialogue options.

The detective simply smiled at you, that gentle, somewhat mischievous smile that he seemed to reserve only for you.

“Shockingly, I do know how to count on my fingers. You’re an 800, and only seven YNs were in the room. Didn’t take a genius to figure out one wasn’t there. That line you gave me about the deviant recording your voice was good, but humans still reign supreme when it comes to the art of lying. You’ve got a lot to learn, Young Grasshopper.”

Of course, your partner would have figured it out. You should have known.

“You’re not angry with me?”

“Angry? God, no. The opposite, actually. I’m… well, I’m relieved. I knew there was more to you than a bunch of nuts and bolts, and it’s nice to finally have confirmation.”

He glared back at the house for a moment.

“Even if it did come in a fucked-up way. Still.” He gave a little shrug, almost bashful. “Forget that Kamski asshole. I’m the one who’s actually proud of you.”

Your eyes slightly widened, and the detective’s smile grew.

“I think you did the right thing in there, for what it’s worth.”

“But the mission—”

“We’ll find another way, Yin. Destroying what precious humanity you’ve gained is not a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” He cupped a hand on the side of your neck and brushed his thumb against the curve of your jaw. “You and me, we’re in this together. We have each other’s backs, no matter what. Agreed?”

Your LED spun red… yellow… and finally, blue.

“Yes, Detective.”

“Good.”

He paused, then released you in what seemed to be reluctance. His cheeks were dusted pink, flakes of snow trapped in his hair, and you had to admit, it was a lovely look.

“No point wasting time around here, we’ve got some rat-babies to feed.”

Following his lead, you went around the Mustang and got into the passenger side, though you would have preferred to be the one to drive considering the road conditions. Perhaps one day the detective would allow you to operate his vehicle with only minimal complaint.

“They’ve reached full maturity, Detective.”

“Hmm?” He glanced at you as he started the ignition.

“The rats. They’re not in the infantile stage.”

The detective merely smiled as the engine roared to life, then he gave you a wink and threw the car into drive.

That wink had the same nonsensical effect that the detective wearing his glasses did, and a burst of static flickered across your vision before clearing. The software instabilities had stopped at least, though you weren’t sure if that was a promising sign.

There was only so much instability your system could take, and according to Amanda Stern, you were past the point of return.

Next Chapter

[poetryofchrist]

Comparing SimHebrew with the WLC

All my youth as a Hebrew student, I have used the Aleppo and Westminster Leningrad traditions. I am now into my teen-aged years as a student of this tongue, and I have recently come across the undotted version of the text that is common in modern usage. My colleague and coach, Jonathan Orr-Stav has invented a language for converting this text called malé to a Latin character form called simulated Hebrew, or SimHebrew for short. Jonathan explains:

ḥaser in the context of ktiv (spelling) means 'lacking, deficient'—as opposed to malé, which means 'full'. 

The former refers to the austere use of yods and vavs to indicate /i/ and /o/ or /u/ sounds — limiting them to where they are actually part of the word stem, and relying on niqqud to dispel misunderstandings. The latter refers to the generous use of yods and vavs to indicate /i/, /o/ or /u/. [and as will be noted below, sometimes qamats and patah (a)].

Undotted Hebrew (both today and in the Second Temple era) tends to use malé, esp. for secular purposes. 

I was wondering if it was possible to write a program that would analyse the WLC (a ḥaser text) and produce an undotted version (malé). I think it is. And it is very clear to me that information is lost in this conversion process, notably vowels and accents, but this does simulate the ancient versions that had no vowels (though I would not rush to say that they had no accents). And with that simulation plus a few extra mater lectiones, (vavs and yods that aid the reader), we do have a text that could be subject to text mining without the need to manage Unicode. I am holding my breath about putting the SimHebrew text into the music. At present that will have to wait. But the exercise of programming 9 chapters of test data has proven very instructive so far. One thing it has taught me is how illogical I am at times, thinking one thing and coding another. This is common in programming, especially I imagine in old programmers, but that is anecdotal. I am now going to try and 'explain' my rules in English. There is an easy mapping from Unicode to Latin characters. For the sake of understanding I mapped the members of the non-grammatical team first. A straightforward replace. The Unicode values translate unambiguously: 1490 - g, 1491 - d, 1494 - z, 1495 - k, 1496 - +, 1505 - s, 1506 - y, 1508 - p, 1507 - f, 1510 - x, 1509 - x, 1511 - q, 1512 - r Note I use + for tet (internally). It does have the odd use grammatically, but not for hitting runs, just keeping score. Then the grammatical letters: 1488 - a, 1489 - b, 1492 - h, 1493 - v, 1497 - i, 1499 - c, 1498 - ç, 1500 - l, 1502 - m, 1501 - m, 1504 - n, 1503 - n, 1513 - w, 1514 - t These all have significant impacts on the placement and usage of i's and o's in the SimHebrew representation of the malé square text. Yod and vav have the most complex problems. There is an initial quick conversion for vav, vav+1460 is vi, vav+other vowels are vv, vav+1466 is vo. There's some nuance here since these are not final decisions. They depend on other variables. The holam 1465 can follow many letters and has a number of rules. 1466 is used only with vav and is generally fixed. I also allow myself the generality of converting some common suffixes. It's a bit surprising, but it saves a lot of hunting later.

PatternResult t-1461 c-1462;mticm l-1461 c-1462;mlicm l-1461 h-1462;mlihm n-1464 i-1460;mni*im t-1463 i-1460;mti*im b-1468-1463;i-1460;mbi*im i-1468-1464;hi*ih

(The * is to prevent this as being seen as a double i which might be prevented per later rules. The * like the + is removed as a last step in constructing the full version of the verse.) Some of the above may need restricting, e.g. there are 291 rows with the last combo and they might not all behave the same way in the rest of the WLC. This is the beginning. And I won't continue this level of detail. I need to explain that each of the remaining rules by stem are processed in sequence. They allow one to see if a vowel in the text will cause a conversion to a mater lectionis. All the jots and tittles gradually disappear. This is the matrix: (It will extend - and who knows, may become simpler if the rules appear to have patterns.) It is similar to doing a program to deal with English lemmas. So many exceptions. I began my career as a programmer 54 years ago. I got the job because I could remember a host of three-character nonsense syllables. This program seems to be my bookend. This table breaks down to three sections: Getting to the o's, Getting to the i's, A. vowels that undergo strange transformations, and B. Finally getting to the real i.

Rule abbreviatedApplies to stem (+ = ט)Comment tsere vavnvh exceptions to vav+vowel becomes vv qamats qatanycrn nsy mlc krm ahl awih azn +rk krb kpry lcd pyl sll render vowel a (Unicode 1464) as o qamats qatan afxpqd acl render a as o except for some affixes qamats qatan bwmy render a as o for prefix b allow o lacl allow holam with prefix l allow o bywh allow holam with prefix b allow o vywh allow holam with prefix v allow o eywh allow holam with segol allow o sfywh allow holam with some suffixes prevent oywh acl aph azn ch la mwh pry raw xan zatprevent holam prevent o prefamr prevent holam with some common prefixes

tsere hireqrcc yrc rgn zrh wrq wrp kth kmr kln bar aph yvr ird pl+ wpl +vb render tsere (1461) as i (some conditions) tsere hireqmman allow for some stems beginning with m but prevent i for single prefix mem with tsere tsere hireq trpa ywh allow hireq from tsere for t patah hireqrcc wnh mdi avli ybd pnh kq dbr yin al ph becomes ii but not for prefixed vai patah hireqiild ird יַ ip (1497-1463) becomes ii qamats upqd הָת ht becomes hut -- specialized prefix qamats hireqvwlv ikd 'ָv' qamats-v (1464-1493) becomes iv qamats hireqhih pnh yl qamats i becomes ii except for suffix ' th nh ' qamats hireq pfitr ivm qamats i becomes ii - except for prefix 'vָi' prevent final ikih suppress rendering of final ai as ii allow init pilvn wby allow initial patah-i as ii allow init pi exciwb lqk allow initial patah-i as ii except for trailing u

allow iww yzz rpa qxx nsy ywr nqb nkl lvn ktt abd acr am amn awh aw at azn bxr clm csh cpr cys dbr dmm gbr gll hlc hll hnm kmw kx lb lbb lqk mxa mla ml+ nba ntc npl ntn npx pla psl q+r qnh rgy rnn wqx wbr wck wvb +vb tmm xvh xih yl yll ycb yxb yxmallow hireq (1460) to be realized -- too generous? Note that hireq is rendered as i when a step contains an i anywhere. allow i tqrb nwa ntn mxa ngp lcd lkm allow hireq to be realized for prefix t allow i hwlv wby rby lvi kll nqm nsc lkm allow hireq to be realized for prefix h allow i itmm wmm lkm allow hireq to be realized for prefix i allow i vzvd wlk wlm tpw rmh nwa nqm nkm itr allow hireq to be realized for prefix v allow i lpnh allow hireq to be realized for prefix v allow i cxpkt allow hireq to be realized for prefix c allow i mzmm allow hireq to be realized for prefix m prevent iymindb ymihvd ynqi xvriwdi wlmial pgyial wyir tnin sin sini sir lvi ymiwdi gdyni cnyni brik bin di riq kih acl abidn cid rib irmih hia yir ci mi kli nbia csdi ihvdi cwdi ict itr bli ikm ial id idy anci bnimn iwb cli bit iwral ivm hih ani prevent hireq -- too restrictive? And what will happen with names? prevent i nwbr rpa lkm ird mxa qnh csh suppress hireq prefix n prevent i hixg ixt hlc rgy +tb q+r suppress hireq prefix h prevent i mdmm suppress hireq prefix m prevent i cdbr suppress hireq prefix c prevent i aww ird suppress tsere or hireq prefix aleph or h - may need refining prevent i ioird suppress hireq prefix yod vav prevent i vqrb lqk dmm suppress hireq prefix vav -- prevent i tsuppress hireq for prefix t prevent i ilqk qnh suppress hireq for preterite/imperfect yod prevent i l-xxx suppress hireq for prefix l prevent i umla mxa suppress hireq for suffix u allow dbl ircc wmm lqk ixt iin mdi bxr nplti yl yvr dmm igy wbr qnh kq ntn ml+ pla irw yll ixm gvi npl allow initial double hireq prevent dbl iwlk wlm xpkt wby rpa rby yzz ywr ww nqm nkl mni tmm mla mim kx lvn ill ild nptli ixg nwa cpr kmw npx gmlial gll amn dbr azn mah +vb aliab aliwmy alixvr ink amr at ail ain akiry akiyzr  adryi iyd iwb aim psl ptiw abir xvh xih xivn wit bvw wvb aiw awh gbr anci lb cys brit ira bli idy nsc q+r pl+prevent double hireq except forlkm ensures leading ii for stem, no ii anywhere else. There is supposedly a rule that with a prefix, the i is not doubled. Sometimes...

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[idyllcy]

for all time/lovebrush chronicles boys as secret dating

word count: 757

summary: secret dating famous! lovebrush boys... how is it revealed?

Ai Yin / Ayn - World-Renowned Gamer

Ayn's heart races in his chest as he takes the trophy in his arms, cheeks flushed as he stares down into the crowd, eyes locking with yours as he hands off the trophy, hopping down the stage to hug you, his face buried in your chest as you jump in your skin, unsure as to how to respond. He had been the one who wanted to keep your relationship secret but not private, so you— "Just hug me." He grumbles, giving you a squeeze as you relent to it, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as he lifts you into his arms. A female fan screams in the background, and another one yells in betrayal as Ayn presses a kiss to your lips with a soft grumble. Safe to say the tabloids went insane that night. (And Ayn went through your weibo to block every single rude comment)

Lu Chen / Alkaid - Well-Loved Photographer

"Hey beloved, can the magazine publish this?" Alkaid points at the photos with you in it, your lips sparkling in the photo for his interview, marks all over his chest, lipstick marks visibly made by your lips, and you nod, handing him a bowl of grapes. "Yeah. My face isn't in it, right?" "No." Alkaid nods. "We took the photos like that on purpose." You look at the photo, nodding. "Looks fine." "Really?" "Really." You nod. "I don't mind that much. Your fans aren't... terrifying." You pause. "Not as scary as Lars', at the very least." (Alkaid finds that you're right. His fans send him nothing but blessings)

Luo Xia / Lars - Top-Notch Celebrity

"Everyone call someone. The first person whose contact picks up can skip this next segment." Lars grins, clicking on your contact as everyone else does too. His phone rings once before you pick up. "Hi babe." Lars grins, shaking his phone at the camera as everyone screams. "BABE?!" The line is silent for a minute before your voice speaks up. "Did you just put me on speaker on one of your shows?" "I just needed you to pick up. I miss you." "I miss you too, but can you please have the editors cut out my voice during editing..." "Will do, babe." (The editors leave out your voice, but they definitely don't leave out the part Lars calls you babe)

Si Lan / Clarence - On the Rise Actor

"So, Clarence." The host coughs. "We received that you completely improvised your most popular scene in the whole movie... was there something that inspired it?" Your manager had warned you not to date as a rising actor, but it really wasn't your fault if your significant other was the crazy one. Clarence looks over at you, pursing his lips and pretending to think. "Perhaps I just wanted to." You reach over to smack him, clicking your tongue in disdain. "I bet you just wanted more tongue action." "With you? Surely." Clarence doesn't think, his media training going out his head as both you and the host are stunned, and the two of you make headlines, Clarence's casual words and pink ears accompanied by your shocked face. (Two weeks later, the two of you make it official on social media— much to his manager's annoyance)

Ye Xuan / Cael - The Nation's Model

Cael typically leaves out his wedding ring in shoots, the silver clashing too much with his outfits, but he finds that it doesn't matter this shoot, your skin pressed to his as you shoot the perfume ad, a ring that could easily be mistaken as a prop— had it not been for the fact that he was known for wearing it off of work. You arch your back slightly more, chest pressed to his, and Cael wraps an arm around you, hand on your shoulder as his ring glistens under the light, your matching one pressed to the glass of the bottle in your hand. In the back, one of the interns mumble about how great of a chemistry the two of you have. The photographer gives the two of you a thumbs up, and you relax, Cael's arm snaking down your chest and giving your skin a small pinch as he stands up. "You alright?" He leans down, resting his forehead on yours. "Yeah." You mumble. "Someone's going to send the paparazzi something again." "Let them." Cael presses his lips to your forehead. "It's about time anyway." (Cael beats the paparazzi, photo of your back at the shoot uploaded onto his instagram before the media can expose him.)

[idyllcy]

for all time / lovebrush chronicles boys being teased

Word count: 619

Summary: How you tease, and how they respond (suggestive!!)

Ai Yin / Ayn

You start with kisses in his palm between his piano breaks, lips pressed to his palm, red marks on his skin, and then you move to his fingertips, lashes fluttering as you stare up at him, and he looks down at you with a slight frown, no real harm behind it, and he swallows. You watch as his Adam's apple bobs in his throat, and you smile innocently, lips curled coyly as he sighs, yanking you up from the floor to slot his lips against yours, a sigh breaking past his lips as he kisses you properly, giving in to your teasing with a grumble. He'd rather not admit it, but he needs the break too.

Lu Chen / Alkaid

Alkaid never gives you a proper reaction at first. He always turns red, trying his best to smile as you pout at him, quietly begging him to do something with your eyes, and he never listens. Instead, you continue to tease him, his ears turning terrifyingly red, his bottom lip quivering as he looks around to make sure there is no one there. Then, he teases back, teeth nipping at your exposed skin, breath hot on your ear as his hands roam underneath your shirt, and you whimper, your own skin warm as his teasing doesn't relent. Don't worry. The two of you are alone, and according to the rumors, no one ever visits here anyway. He has you to himself, so you bet he's going to take advantage of it.

Luo Xia / Lars

Lars doesn't give in immediately. Instead, he watches as you palm at his chest, leaning back as he raises a brow to taunt you, and you huff as you continue, butterfly kisses pressed to his jaw, lashes brushing against his neck as you nuzzle into him. Then, when Lars gets bored, he kisses you, all control you thought you had gone with his movements, his hands on your waist and fingers digging into your hips as he kisses you, tongue hot against yours as your back arches to keep up with his kisses, your breathing growing ragged. When you start seeing stars, Lars pulls back with a teasing grin, cooing in your ear as you chase after his lips. Patience, love.

Si Lan / Clarence

You are sorely mistaken if you think Clarence is going to let you disrupt him during work hours. You ask to sit on his lap, shifting sneakily to try and rile him up, your fingers threading through his hair as he continues to work, lips pressing behind his ear as you mumble for him to do something. You can feel him pressed up against you, so you'd obviously expect him to do something— but he doesn't. Instead, he sits through your teasing and finishes his documents, at one point even moving you off his lap to clear his desk. And then finally, finally he cages you into his desk and kisses you. Oh, and don't worry, he was counting the number of times you had done things to him. He fully intends to pay you back.

Ye Xuan / Cael

Cael... you are insatiable, and Cael finds that he is just another unfortunate victim to you.  You shift against his hips, quiet whimper on your lips as he stays still, unbothered by your hips shifting, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull lightly, lips pressed to his neck as he sighs, hand squeezing your hip in warning as you ignore him and continue to nip at his skin. Then finally, he finishes his work, other hand flat on your stomach, leaning in to bite your ear, sighing as he curses you quietly in your ear, relenting. You minx.

[idyllcy]

for all time/lovebrush chronicles boys responding to "kiss me for ten or the hottest girl ever for a thousand?"

word count: 648

summary: lovebrush boys responding to who they would kiss

Ai Yin / Ayn

"Ayn." You tug on his sleeve from the ground as he takes a break from practice. "Hm?" He blinks down at you, fingers reaching for your hand as you speak up. "Would you rather kiss me for ten dollars or the hottest girl in the world for a thousand?" Ayn's heard this one from Tiktok, but he doesn't respond, opting to blink at you blankly again. "Would you—" "Does that mean I can kiss you for a thousand?" You blink at him blankly, words registering in your head before the embarrassment explodes on your cheeks and you hide your face from him. "Ayn!" "So can I?" You don't give him an answer, opting to hide your face until you're sure the flush is gone.

Lu Chen / Alkaid

"Alkaid." You brush your fingers over his as the two of you sit in the park. "Yes?" "Would you rather kiss me for ten dollars or the hottest girl in the world for a thousand?" You tilt your head at him, curious. Alkaid doesn't think, he just answers. "You." Alkaid smiles gently and tilts his head, brushing his fingers over the back of your hand as he hums. "Why would I kiss someone else when I have you?" You grow embarrassed, and he laughs, fingers running through your hair as you hide your face from him, ears on fire. "I'll always pick you." Something about his eyes tells you there's no room for arguement.

Luo Xia / Lars

"Kiss me for ten or the hottest girl in the world for a thousand?" Lars reaches for your face, fingers stringing through your hair as he presses his lips to yours, eyes half-lidded as you tilt your head to give him better access— something he hums in thanks for. Your fingers scrunch the fabric of his shirt, and he pulls away, catching his breath as he stares into your eyes. "Okay, I kissed you, so where's my thousand dollars?" He raises a brow in amusement. "You don't lack that thousand!" You gasp in fake offense. "Yeah, but that can be your pocket money." He hums, resting his chin on your head. "But lucky for you, you're the hottest girl ever to me." You push him away in embarrassment, heart racing in your chest. He's too good at this.

Si Lan / Clarence

"Clarence," You sort through the files in the student council room, breaking the silence between the two of you. "Would you rather kiss me for ten dollars or the hottest girl in the world for a thousand?" Clarence like pretends to think about it, tapping his cheek, and. you blink at him, waiting for his answer. "Okay, who would you kiss if you could kiss any woman in the world?" He laughs when you pout at him before rolling his eyes and telling you "You, obviously." "Then me or the hottest woman in the world?" "You, obviously." He stops with his papers, looking into your eyes with an insane amount of sincerity that makes you look away from embarrassment. "Now get back to work." "Yes, sir!" You fight off the blush creeping up your skin for the rest of the time in the room.

Ye Xuan / Cael

"Cael." You mumble. "Would you rather kiss me for ten dollars or the hottest girl in the world for a thousand?" Cael rests his finger on where he left off in his book, blinks at you, and senses this is some random question you've dragged from Tiktok with a right answer, but he still processes it, unsure as to how to answer. "So? What's your answer?" You step closer to him on the couch, leaning forward to face him with your head tilted as he blinks at you again. "I'm thinking about it." "YOU NEED TO THINK ABOUT IT?!" You gape, puffing your cheeks as you pout. Then, Cael presses his hand to the back of your head, lips pressed to yours gently before releasing you and going back to his book. "There's my answer" He hums. You take two business days to recover from that.

[idyllcy]

for all time/lovebrush chronicles boys as kisses

word count: 481

summary: how the lovebrush boys kiss you

Ai Yin / Ayn

Ayn presses his lips to yours like he's waited for you his whole life, his lips are molded to yours as he practically tries to absorb you, his passion bleeding through his hands as he holds you to him desperately. He kisses you like he's lost you in a past life again and again, and he kisses you like he has nothing left but you in this world. He kisses you like he's going to lose you and he's terrified of what's to come when you have to inevitably pull away.

Lu Chen / Alkaid

Alkaid kisses you like a butterfly— his lips brush against yours only once before he pulls away, cheeks warm and neck red, and you have to pull him in again if you want a kiss again. His lips brush yours for a second as if you're something he's not allowed to have, and his lips feel like a heaven in a world far away from you. Alkaid kisses you like he's not allowed to, like the two of you are destined to break as soon as one of you step over the line.

Luo Xia / Lars

Lars kisses you with both hands on your cheek as he leans over you to the best of his ability, the love bleeding from his chest to yours as he presses it to yours, and he kisses you like he's going to spend tomorrow and forever with you. He kisses you like that moment in time is the only thing that matters, even if you're going to leave someday. Yet, he kisses you in the present, a sense of determination that he'll never lose you, and even when he presses his tongue into your mouth for more, he is there, and so are you.

Si Lan / Clarence

Clarence kisses you like he knows there are many more to come. His fingers wrap around your waist gently as he tilts his head to slot his lips against yours better. He kisses you like he knows that you are his destined one in this world, and the way he rests his hand on the back of your head to help you angle is a reminder of how far the two of you have come. He kisses you like he's sure you're the one destined for him, and that you have eternity ahead of the two of you, so there's no rush.

Ye Xuan / Cael

Cael kisses you awkwardly, his fingers curled next to him as he's scared to touch you, worried that if he does, he'd be committing some kind of sin, that he'd break you by kissing you back too hard. He kisses you like he's not supposed to, fingers delicate against your skin as his thumb brushes your cheek and he tucks your hair behind your ear, his eyes half-lidded as he takes in your expression, always worried that some higher deity outside of his control would steal you away at any moment.

[dangopango00]

After Last Night (2)

Waking up with him after a hookup

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 |

FAT/LBC men x gn reader (Ayn and cael)

CW: Suggestive, cael (sorry i like him i just happen to also like hating on him), ok genuinely cael but its the fact that in his blurb MC is kind of your daughter

A/N: Ayn is my fave but i dint do him in part one to keep me motivated to finish part two 💀💀 mind games also im acc so obsessed with step parent reader wtf thats so cute

more utc

AYN / AI YIN (艾因）

- SCENARIO: Ayn is very aloof and he doesn’t drink so he’s not sleeping with anyone he doesn’t know well; you two are very close. You’re in the music club and trying to pick up/get better at an instrument and you pestered Ayn into giving you tips until you became so close that he basically acted as your tutor. Tbh you’re probably already in a situationship and you’ve probably kissed a few times but nothing crazy, you’ve never pushed it that far— well that is until last night. You hadn’t seen each other in a long time just because you were both busy and Ayn missed you so he had you come to his hideout and well shit happened

- He wakes up first but is incredibly out of it like there’s still drool dribbling out of his mouth and he’s only really half awake; he kinda looks dead in his stupor

- He’d probably just pull you closer, lay on you and go back to sleep to be so honest; he can order takeout for the two of you later

- He tangles himself with you like unbrushed hair. His legs and arms are all wrapped around you and he’s trying to get as close to you as possible and his breath is tickling your neck with how much he nudges his head against you and gives you a quick kiss before he goes back to sleep

- His bedhead usually isn’t messy because he doesn’t move a lot in his sleep but after last night his hair is more messy than usual because of how much he’s pushing his head against you lol

- Even if you wake up he won’t let you get up. Go back to bed, he missed you; he just kisses you until you give up but if you’re hungry he’ll order something from his phone

- Likes if you trace parts of his body while you’re laying down like his collarbones or running your thumb down his chest. Keep it below the head though, otherwise the ticklish feeling will bother him while he’s trying to sleep (he’s such a princess 🙄)

- Is actually pretty chill about the whole thing; it was only a matter of time in his opinion and will be a little confused if you’re super embarrassed because you’ve already made out before it’s not that crazy

- He thinks the situation is pretty simple honestly he’s just gonna invite you on dates and confess which does admittedly take a bit of time because he wants to do something special and you’re a little nervous when he doesn’t confess or anything but when he does it makes the wait 100% worth it

CAEL / YE XUAN (叶瑄）

- SCENARIO: OKAY. I’ve thought about this one deeply because Cael is like I think a confirmed virgin so he would have to be suuuperr close with you to want to hook up. So in my delusional little head you are a very old friend of his who helped him basically raise MC. You weren’t formally her step parent but you helped out where you could and ended up becoming close with the two. At first Cael was just grateful to have you for help and as a dear friend but as time went on he started to notice you more and more. You lived together and seeing you do random domestic things or just normal mundane things like doing laundry or gardening or sth was driving him insane. It just built up and randomly one day when you were getting ready for the day he suddenly kissed the back of your neck and confessed and things just escalated

- You wake up first and Cael is just lying so peacefully. He’s never felt more refreshed to be honest

- His bedhead is a little messy but it’s not really noticeable except for the bangs and he snores but he doesn’t really drool, doesn’t move much either; moves in between long intervals

- You run your fingers through his hair and kiss his forehead as he sleeps and you notice him crack a smile (he woke up a few minutes after you but he wanted to see what you’d do while he slept so he could tease you later)

- He loves it when you hold his face in your hands. His cheeks heat up and he has a small smile as he opens his eyes; such a small form of affection makes him feel so warm inside and he can’t help it

- He’d take your hands in his and kiss them then leading you to the kitchen so you can make breakfast together

- After all. That his infatuation is boosted like x10 like he starts drawing you just doing normal activities, thinking about you while in the middle of a battle among many other things

- However, he hasn’t slept with you since that night because he’s really worried

- He doesn’t really know how nor does he think he should pursue a committed relationship with you because tbh he could die at any moment and he has enough responsibility as is; it sounds harsh but he doesn’t want to have to worry about you and vice versa. It’ll take a lot of convincing and persistence to get him to realize that no matter what you’ll be by his side and that you want to take care of him and MC too— that you will always care about him no matter how much he distances himself

[bookclub4m]

35 Non-fiction Graphic Novels by BIPOC Authors

Every month Book Club for Masochists: A Readers’ Advisory Podcasts chooses a genre at random and we read and discuss books from that genre. We also put together book lists for each episode/genre that feature works by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) authors. All of the lists can be found here.

This Place: 150 Years Retold

Zodiac: A Graphic Memoir by Ai Weiwei with Elettra Stamboulis & Gianluca Costantini

Nat Turner by Kyle Baker

The Talk by Darrin Bell

The Best We Could Do by Thi Bui

I’m a Wild Seed by Sharon Lee De la Cruz

Messy Roots: A Graphic Memoir of a Wuhanese American by Laura Gao

Stamped from the Beginning: A Graphic History of Racist Ideas in America by Joel Christian Gill and Ibram X. Kendi

Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts by Rebecca Hall and Hugo Martinez

The 500 Years of Resistance Comic Book by Gord Hill

Good Talk: A Memoir in Conversations by Mira Jacob

The American Dream? A Journey on Route 66 Discovering Dinosaur Statues, Muffler Man, and the Perfect Breakfast Burrito: a Graphic Memoir by Shing Yin Khor

Banned Book Club by Kim Hyun Sook, Ryan Estrada, and Ko Hyung-Ju

In Limbo by Deb J.J. Lee

This Country: Searching for Home in (Very) Rural America by Navied Mahdavian

Mexikid: A Graphic Memoir by Pedro Martín

Monstrous: A Transracial Adoption Story by Sarah Myer

Steady Rollin': Preacher Kid, Black Punk and Pedaling Papa by Fred Noland

Citizen 13660 by Mine Okubo

Your Black Friend and Other Strangers by Ben Passmore

Kwändǖr by Cole Pauls

Worm: A Cuban American Odyssey by Edel Rodriguez

Power Born of Dreams: My Story is Palestine by Mohammad Sabaaneh

A First Time for Everything by Dan Santat

Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood by Marjane Satrapi

Grandmothers, Our Grandmothers: Remembering the "Comfort Women" of World War II by Han Seong-Won

Death Threat by Vivek Shraya and Ness Lee

Palimpsest: Documents From A Korean Adoption by Lisa Wool-Rim Sjöblom

Big Black: Stand at Attica by Frank "Big Black" Smith, Jared Reinmuth, and Améziane

Victory. Stand!: Raising My Fist for Justice by Tommie Smith, Dawud Anyabwile, and Derrick Barnes

The High Desert by James Spooner

They Called Us Enemy by George Takei, Justin Eisinger, Steven Scott, and Harmony Becker

Feelings by Manjit Thapp

The Black Panther Party: A Graphic Novel History by David F. Walker and Marcus Kwame Anderson

Now Let Me Fly: A Portrait of Eugene Bullard by Ronald Wimberly and Braham Revel