#task managers

[jenn-the-butterfly]

Next Chapter

Sun’s rays fluttered excitedly, even after his brother’s silhouette had disappeared into the treeline. Turning with a wide smile, he paused upon seeing the troubled look on Jenn’s face as she stared after Moon. It was gone in a blink however, a half-smile replacing the concern as she looked up to him, a playful quirk of her brow denoting amusement at his own excitement. “Come on, bright eyes,” she casually pointed over her shoulder with her thumb, “we got enough cleared off you can use some of the stuff now.”

Step-in-step, Sun tailed behind the human as she moved between the uncovered structures, tying her skirt up around her hips to keep it out of the way. While working, Sun had occupied his mind with trying to determine the use of each piece of equipment that seemed familiar to him, even vaguely. Many of the things Jenn used for her own fitness resembled the ones he and Moon used a long, long time ago–-

Was it that long? Sun asked himself as Jenn twisted the top of a hip-level, flat dais the size of a dinner plate, knocking loose a few vines that avoided the clippers. It sure feels like it. The estate had none of the things they’d used to hone their balance and flexibility; this feeling of recognition was from before then, in the murky days that he could barely recall as he came into himself under the guidance of his builders.

Moon was there, that much he knew, but the rest came and went in waves. If he tried to think too hard, he only got tired–-so many new faces had entered and left his memory since then, it was impossible to fully sort out if they were from before at the facility he was made in or simply the earliest of the visitors to the estate. Many of his strongest memories from then were of Moon and them forming their bond, but the rest…?

Silvon. The name jumped out at him like a rabbit breaking cover from a predator, almost startling him.

The magenta-eyed human that introduced them to that woman-–to Vissara.

Faintly, Sun hoped the well-dressed but cold human was well and hadn’t gotten in too much trouble because of them. It was hard to forget that gaze, even from a time when memories were still a bit blurry with age. Despite being stone-faced and emotionally distant, Silvon had been polite to them and taught them how to behave in the estate, giving them schedules and tasks to keep them out of trouble when they got too curious. Sun had every reason to like Silvon.

It was odd to him that he didn’t.

In fact, he felt nothing in regard to the magenta-eyed human. Not hate or love, he didn’t like or dislike Silvon in any regard. They simply existed in the estate as Vissara’s assistant, while Sun coexisted indifferently to them.

Weird, he concluded, having expected to feel one way or another. He had opinions about everyone he met, however briefly. Shrugging lightly, Sun chose to unpack his less-than-complex feelings later–-perhaps he should ask Moon what he felt about Silvon? That might sway him one way or another.

“These’ll probably help with your balance issue.” Jenn’s voice cut through the golden bot’s thoughts, drawing him back to the present. She’d climbed onto the small dais while he was distracted and stretched one leg out, her other wobbling slightly as she tried to keep poised on the disk as it twitched back and forth in an attempt to knock her off. “Just be prepared to kiss the grass in the meantime. They’re–”

Body jerking sharply as her ankle gave out, Jenn buckled. Hands up, Sun stepped forward, prepared to catch her–-swinging her other leg down, Jenn righted herself enough not to fall. The balancing plate still jerked and twitched at the slightest movement, but she fared much better on two legs.

“I really don’t want to fall on you,” she warned, eventually finding her equilibrium by holding her arms out.

“Well,” he replied, taking a half step back, “catching you would be better than kissing the ground, right?”

“Says the guy made of metal.”

“I’m softer than I look!”

A flicker of her brow dipping suspiciously–-Jenn swung her leg again, making the plate spin in place. As she came back to the front, her expression was back to normal; she nodded beside herself to the neighboring plate. “Go try one.”

Looking where she indicated, Sun could make out a handful of similar daises of varying sizes and heights scattered about the immediate area. Picking one next to his guide, he pulled himself up with a single stride, wobbling just a bit as the pivot slid around underfoot; crouching reflexively, the lanky bot held fast to the edges until it stopped moving. Slowly, he stood, weight bearing down on one leg while his system rapidly adjusted in the background to compensate for every minor change in equilibrium.

“Tall ass,” Jenn muttered in regard to the ease at which Sun could simply do things because of his build being lengthy and mostly leg.

“Huh?”

Staring at him as he found his footing, Jenn repeated, “Tall,” while pointing, a playful pout indicating she was teasing.

“Oh.” Looking down from his new spot, Sun rubbed his neck. “I am, aren’t I?”

“Just a lot. Lucky.”

Chuckling faintly at what he assumed was a compliment of some kind, Sun watched Jenn adjust her center of gravity before taking a wide step onto another spinning plate; it also twitched slightly, pulling her off balance and threatening to toss her to the ground. Thinking quick, the gold bot’s hand whipped out, grabbing onto her forearm. As he did, his own sense of balance twisted out from under him, forcing the lanky dancer to step against the edge of a different dais to keep himself from tumbling with her. It was for nothing, though, as Jenn had only wobbled a bit and recovered herself, face pinched in a look of pure confusion.

“Can I help you?” she wondered cautiously, staring him down with a bright glint in her eyes.

Squeaking, Sun let her go and stood upright, hands tucked to his collar protectively. “S-sorry! I thought you were going to fall!”

Blue stared down teal as Jenn studied him intensely for a moment, still confused but not commenting further as she placed her focus back on the collection of hazardous steps around them. One by one she stepped, hopped or strode across them, sometimes spinning to keep her balance; unsure what that look had been for, Sun followed, vaguely imitating her stance where needed as he picked apart the ways the different steps turned or shook under his weight. Distracted as he was by trying not to fall, it wasn’t until he’d reached the edge of the ‘stepping stones’, as he decided to call them, that Jenn’s presence was notably lacking. Turning once about-face, there was no sign she’d taken a turn back to the center without him noticing.

A metallic smack drew his focus around and up–-Jenn had climbed onto the next structure that was still partially overgrown at its base, her hands firmly grasping one of a series of long metal pipes that stretched the gap between one side of the unit and the other. Swinging forward, she reached for the next bar, making a similar sound as the impact reverberated through the structure. Again, but a more tinny bang as her false arm hit the pipe. Again–-her body swayed side-to-side, picking up speed as she walked herself across the rails using her legs to generate momentum to make the next grab.

At the halfway point of her climb, Sun hoisted himself up from the stones using the metal pegs lining the support beams and peered down, his HUD giving him an estimation of about twelve feet from there to the ground which was still overgrown with trusslin. Plenty of space for him, to his surprise, but far less of a falling hazard to himself compared to Jenn-–it was with a sharp bit of realization that he truly understood why this area was left untrimmed and why something like trusslin had even been placed in the first place. This was no kids’ playground of colorful plastic and metal with padding or wood chips underneath; standing at just over seven feet himself, finding human-sized things that he could use was a bit of a dice roll at times, but this equipment wasn’t built to accommodate four-foot-something children or even six-and-some-odd-inch adults like a normal playground.

Grabbing hold of the first bar, Sun watched Jenn dismount with a graceful arc onto a platform secured at the end of the bars roughly nine feet off the ground, barely making a sound as her feet hit the wood; she turned to him, waiting with her arms crossed. There’s no way this is made for robots, that doesn't make sense, he told himself while swinging down-–gravity took hold with a suddenness he hadn’t prepared for, making him fearful of letting go as he swung forward, then back, grip straining against his mass as it was pulled down by invisible force.

Skilled as she was, Jenn couldn't be immune to gravity or falling, even if she seemed to ignore it with ease. Alerts and warnings flooded Sun’s vision, cautioning him against a fall and estimating damage if he landed incorrectly–-now knowing that he was sturdy enough to survive what should have been a lethal height, the estimates were taken with a grain of salt yet if he could possibly get hurt by dropping and landing incorrectly, the risk to Jenn was far greater. He was metal and springs and bolts--she was flesh and bone, the things that made organics infamous for being squishy and fragile; a bad fall from double her height could be disastrous. What had she said?

“I’ve avoided a few broken bones.”

The next section beyond this one was higher than the bars. This became acutely noticeable as Sun looked up from his hanging position to the structure attached to the platform Jenn waited for him on, fully overgrown across its lower reaches but easily double the height of–-no, wait, only by about half more, according to his HUD’s estimate–-nearly twenty feet off the ground. Knowing she was waiting, the golden bot began to swing, taking a bit of effort to find a rhythm to cross the bars as his lengthy body was a tad unwieldy when swinging if he wasn’t careful. The landing wasn’t quite as graceful as he’d liked, having to tuck his legs in to clear the edge of the platform, but nothing a few rounds of practice wouldn’t fix–-that would be for later though. Sun was too concerned by his observations to think about practicing.

“Jenn?” he asked as she turned from him, grabbing onto the pegs that would carry them up to the next area. Pausing, the human glanced at him expectantly. “How… how often do you use this equipment?” Sounding nonchalant was proving difficult, a tight grin only serving to make him appear more stressed than he wanted.

“All the time.”

He’d been afraid of that answer.

“Just didn’t get to it this time around after getting home.” Looking upward, she bounced and took hold of a peg, beginning to climb. “Don’t let the weeds fool you, it’ll be grown over again in a couple weeks, just you wait. I promise it’s all in good condition.”

Waiting his turn at the bottom of the ladder, a worrisome twist churned his insides. “Um, no, I-I believe that.”

“Then what’s bugging you?”

Would it be insulting to point out how insanely dangerous this whole thing is? Probably. It wasn’t his place to tell her she was risking her health when she wasn’t his to care for… yet confirmation that Jenn was regularly meandering around and climbing on rough-built exercise equipment alone using only plants as a safety guard set off his care programming whether he wanted it to or not. “I… you… do this alone? Every time?”

Reaching the top and hopping onto the edge, Jenn turned and looked down, waiting for him. “Yeah?”

Why are you so calm about that??

“It’s not like Twii and Laa need exercise and Ruk has no thumbs.”

That’s not what I’m worried about!

“And, well… you’ve seen I don’t exactly keep company that often.”

Slowly, Sun hoisted himself up each rung of the pin ladder, not needing nearly as many holds as Jenn did due once more to his height making up most of the distance for him. “I… Forgive me if I’m blunt but isn’t that dangerous?”

She stared a moment, head tilting slightly before answering, “I guess so? That’s why I planted the trusslin.”

“No, I…” At the top, Jenn hobbled to the side to give him clearance to get over the lip of the structure; vertigo washed over him as he caught a glimpse of the ground, voice draining away to a faint whine. Alerts blared caution in his head about the hazards of being so high up, unsecured.

“You good, bright eyes?”

Stiff as a board, Sun turned to see Jenn crouched on the balls of her feet on the beam that was barely wide enough to do so, totally at ease. “W-w-we–this is–it’s very high!” It took focus but he found a way to sit on the small stretch of wood in the least risky way possible for himself.

“Yep.”

“How-–how are you so calm?? Don’t you know if you fall you could…” He hesitated a moment, changing his word choice. “... get hurt??”

“I know.” Standing suddenly made Sun yelp but Jenn’s movements had taken on a smooth gait that felt completely different to moments before on the spinning stones. It was as if being higher up made her more confident somehow. Even the gentle breeze that flowed over the trees didn’t sway her as she walked over the beam to a wider section; scooting carefully, Sun followed, glad to be on more stable ground even if it was higher than he’d like it to be. “I can’t really afford to not have it though. Keeping myself sharp and fit is necessary in my line of work.”

Unprepared for her to continue, Sun hiccuped, “Huh?” as he sat up, avoiding sight of the ground until he’d adjusted for aerial performance. That finicky program was very particular about the conditions needed to auto-run so he opted to manually process it before the vertigo came back. “Your… line of work?”

“Yeah, I have a job.” A light, dry laugh stopped short as she realized he genuinely didn’t know that. It hadn’t come up yet. “Did you think I just lived out here and did whatever every day?”

“Ah… maybe?”

Rubbing her cheek, she nodded, relenting. “Actually, that’s fair, I guess. Yes, I have a job, and it's very hard on the body at times so I need to stay in shape.”

“I…” Sun scratched his jaw. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you doing anything, I just assumed…”

She laughed again, dry and low. “It’s not an everyday job. I actually just got back from it about a day before you two popped in so no, you haven't seen me working.”

“Oh!” His brow furrowed. What job needs this kind of physical demand? Part of him wanted to ask, but a greater part was afraid to know if it made her so nonplussed about her own safety.

“Let me guess.”

His eyes flashed to hers, which were almost shining in the light of the sky, bringing out the brilliant tones of cyan in her irises–-it was the first moment Sun genuinely realized how vibrant her eye color was. It was very beautiful, but eerie as well at how unnatural it felt at that moment.

“You’re concerned because if I fell and got seriously injured, no one would be around to help me.”

That absolutely was what he felt, but focusing was not on his mind at the moment. Not on her words, in any case.

High up as they were, they didn’t clear the canopy but it opened their field of view enough that the sky stretched nearly from horizon to horizon in all directions, glinting and shining with the yellow aurora he’d seen so many times through the windows of the estate house. Brilliant, shining blue eyes had riveted his attention for some seconds before Sun was able to drift free, caught in how the yellow light cast a shadow on Jenn’s face that only emphasized the unearthly glow her eyes had–-well, that he thought they had at least, given how richly colored they were. Her hair, dyed a deep blue at the ends but grown in at the root into its natural ash blonde, took on an array of colors from gold to brown under the aurora’s glow, even tinting green in a way that didn’t seem natural at first. From these faux colored locks, his gaze followed the light into the sky itself behind her head, drawn into the mass of clouds that scattered the aurora’s light to every corner that engulfed Azil’s sky in semi-permanent cover.

The aurora wasn’t new. From his room, Sun had seen it almost every day: a bright array of light through the single window he had, accompanied by the smallest sliver of Uls in the corner. It was the same aurora now, yet out here he felt for the first time he was really seeing it–-how the edges turned green or sometimes pink as the light twisted around itself, dancing a bizarre, rhythmless dance only it knew the steps to. Within city walls and narrow streets, it was hard to imagine just how big it was, but out here…

Snap snap.

Jolting back to reality, Sun blinked, focusing on the fingers in front of his face. “Sorry??” he blurted reflectively, embarrassed he’d zoned out so hard out of nowhere.

Blue eyes stared back at him with concern; there was no glow in them.

Of course not, that’d be silly.

“Do you want to watch the aurora or keep going?” Though she sounded annoyed, her gaze was gentle–-he thought so, anyway.

“We can… we can keep going, I’m sorry. I’ve…” Words were becoming more and more difficult lately as Sun realized he lacked the right ones to explain himself properly anymore.

Sitting back, Jenn looked up at the sky, a faint smile on her lips that put him at ease. “It’s different when you can see the whole sky, isn’t it?”

A smile of his own crossed his face, relieved she understood what he was feeling despite being unable to say it the way he wanted. “It very much is.” Standing, Jenn offered her hand, pulling the golden robot to his feet despite his hesitation at the act. After what she’d said about fitness, it shouldn’t have shocked him that she was stronger than she looked but nevertheless he was still a bit impressed that she didn’t struggle as much as he’d expected given he was nearly double her weight. Without meaning to, he said as much aloud before clamping a hand to his mouth.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem upset about his wayward comment. “Just wait, you haven’t seen anything yet!” Motioning behind her to the open area of the structure, Jenn half-skipped to the edge, seeming delighted. “I’m much better at swinging than I am at strength tests!”

Now that his aerial programming was in effect, the vertigo was negated, allowing Sun to peer down to the tangled underbrush below without feeling dizzy or unbalanced. They were very high, that much he knew, but unlike the bars this area didn’t have a coherent connecting point between parts. Arches tall as trees with metal pipes running across them stood at attention in random spots, towering over the other equipment like sentinels. Some of them had ropes or additional bars at the half or three-quarters mark but they were nowhere near each other to grab onto easily; at the far end of the clearing was a taller pillar bolted into a tree with an arm that hung over an empty spot but nothing attached to it. It felt unfinished to him, like something was supposed to be there.

Familiarity came first as he understood what the bars were for.

Behind it was fear.

“This is my favorite part to use.” Jenn’s voice echoed in his head as if she were far away, her body moving in slow motion to him as she kicked off the platform, arms extended.

Nothing came out of his mouth when he tried to call out, his own body too slow to stop her until she was already over the edge.

Sun’s knees hit the platform as he tumbled forward, missing her by a hair with everything screaming DANGER at him; Jenn’s hands hit a bar that had been out of sight from their vantage point, just far enough forward that she didn’t slam into it with her head or chest. With the ease of many years of practice, the human swung, the pipe turning in its socket to send her forward and up; she let go, sailing into the air like a leaf on the wind. He gawked, half awestruck and half terrified he was about to witness a tragedy–-Sun’s HUD frantically pinged with estimations as he tracked Jenn’s gymnastics through the open air.

Toes pointed, the human managed a fluid flip as she came down to the next bar, grabbing on and carrying herself around it without a care in the world. Once–-twice–-she spun on the bar before launching again, flinging herself upward to a higher bracket; a rope dangled from the center, only about ten feet in length. Nowhere near the ground.

To his horror, Jenn didn’t make it to the bar–-thank Azil the rope was there! With a creak, she grabbed hold of the end of the safety rope, swinging wildly while climbing her way up to the top with barely a moment of hesitation. Once she was at the peak of the rung, she waved, perched once again on the balls of her feet.

Releasing a held breath, Sun shouted, “ARE YOU ALRIGHT????” as he had nothing else he could manage without growing hysteric.

After a moment, she called back, “I’m fine! C’mon!”

Nope.

Nope, no, absolutely not!

Making a large X with his arms, Sun declined. “I’m okay right now! I… I’m going back to the wobbly things!” He turned to scoot his way back down the ladder.

“Okay! I’ll join you!”

Freezing, Sun’s brain fired off an, “Oh no,” as it assumed what her way down entailed. To his great relief, instead of jumping into the grass, he whipped around in time to see Jenn slide down the pillar making up one leg of the structure, moving as if hand holds were placed along it that he couldn’t make out from that distance. “Oh, thank Azil…” he huffed, slumping down for a moment with pure relief. After composing himself, the golden worrywart was able to make his way down, meeting the squishy human at the edge of the hazard plates; unable to help himself, he took hold of her elbows, speaking quickly while giving her a multi-pass look over. “What were you doing?? That was insane! What would you have done if you’d missed a bar?? I know those leaves are soft but a fall like that–”

Stunned for a moment by the sudden contact, Jenn’s hands moved out of reflex to protect herself, turning over to break his grip and shove his own away–-she stopped at holding one palm to his face, fingers pointing in a way that warned him about his eyes and nose being vulnerable targets. Had he been human that is. Her other hand was tucked against her side, cuffed and waiting in a striking position; it settled quickly, a fraction of a minute, as she snapped out of her automatic self-defense and took a step back.

Occasionally sparring with Moon was paying off it seemed, as he recognized motions as being defensive in nature, though Sun wasn’t very happy to know he’d triggered a fight response by being overbearing. Hands snapping away, he also took a half step back to disengage, eyes wide. “I’m sorry!” The apology tumbled out with the same frantic tone as his worries. “I didn’t mean to touch you! I–I was worried, I–”

Expression changing from blank shock to confusion, Jenn snapped, “Why?” cutting off his fumbling apology.

“Why…?”

“I do this all the time,” she reiterated, forcing her body to relax fully. “I train to do this. Did you not hear me?”

“No, I…” Taking a steadying breath, Sun brought his voice under some amount of control. “I did, I just didn’t know what that… entailed. Seeing you just… walk off the edge of a platform that high… that’s not something I see people do. I got scared.”

“No, I understand that.”

He was more confused now.

“Why do you care?”

“Huh?”

Eyes flicking up and down him with a wary glint, she shuffled her footing, seeming almost uncomfortable at the idea. “You don’t know me, we are not friends. If I got hurt, you could just take my house and live your life.”

Sun was appalled.

“Why do you care if I fall and get hurt?”

Voice fractured with concern, Sun clipped out, “You’re a human?? ”

“And?”

“And?? What and?? Beyond the fact my base programming is literally made to ensure the happiness and wellbeing of the humans around me?? Because isn’t that what people do?? Keep each other safe??” More and more, Sun’s voice was getting away from him, rising and straining with the desire to fracture under his barely contained stress. That isn’t how he wanted to crack–-he didn’t want to crack at all!

This seemed to shake loose the stiff posture Jenn had been holding herself in as she realized the tall robot was genuinely beginning to break down into a panic attack. What do I do-–shekt! Stepping forward, Jenn tried to reach toward Sun but he flinched back, causing her to freeze. “Hey!” she barked loudly, managing to shake him from the spiral with the sudden sound. “I-–I’m fine, right?” Placing a hand over her chest, Jenn tried again to reach out. “I’m alright. And… you’re right, I should… be more careful. I just can’t be. I have a high-risk job, so I don’t get to wait for help. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, but I’ve survived like this for years. I’m fine.”

HUD flashing a collection of warnings, Sun focused on the hand nearing him–-five fingers--the color of the grass--green-–gazing up slightly, he saw the blue of Jenn’s irises once again. Bright blue.

Soft.

A warm hand touched his chest, gentle and slow, the pressure giving him a place to focus on that wasn’t within his own chaotic mind. Peering down between himself and her worried expression, Sun saw the light flashing under his shirt and that Jenn’s gaze was drawn to it; intended as an aesthetic feature, the feature built into his chest had more than once gotten him in trouble for being distracting. In some effort to imitate a human heartbeat, Sun’s makers installed a frosted panel on his left pectoral shaped like a stylized heart and made to glow in time to his system pulse whenever he felt strong emotions. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t consistent, often flaring up when it wasn’t supposed to–-when he was uncomfortable, in most cases.

And afraid.

It was that inconsistency that forced them to deactivate the command when they first caught a break in their escape effort. “A high risk of blowing our cover,” as Moon put it–-and Sun obeyed–-but it hadn’t activated before now, even after Jenn rebooted them. So why now? There was no way to know at the moment why it chose now to make itself known, but it did serve to keep him focused on something long enough for his exhaust cycle to correct itself, forcing a sense of calm to blanket his system.

The light had been unexpected, drawing Jenn’s focus despite her best effort to stay on task to calm the panicking robot; she’d seen the panel and known what it was for during diagnostics, however it hadn’t been used until now. Whichever series of circumstances needed to activate it weren’t something she’d looked into, but now it was clear it at least responded to distress. Intense distress. Both of them seemed drawn to the waning and growing pulse of white light, measuring it as it slowed and faded to a reasonable level before fully going dark.

Grateful he’d been spared from a full meltdown by happenstance, Sun exhaled slowly and steadily, laying his hand over Jenn’s carefully to not trigger another defensive reaction. That was all the farther he got, however, before she beat him to the apology. “I’m sorry.” Just as gently, her other hand covered his as if trying to reassure him she was truly alright.

“You don’t need to–”

A sharp glint as her eyes snapped to his stopped him cold. “I will not apologize for what I did because I will do it again, but I am going to apologize for not warning you better.” She took a moment to relax her expression a bit when it grew stern. “I’ve gotten used to the kinds of people who do this sort of stuff as well, they don’t bat an eye at playground equipment like this.”

Calling these giant thingamajigs ‘playground equipment’ was not something he agreed on, but he kept that to himself.

“I also apologize for not considering you might be afraid of heights–”

This time, Sun was able to cut her off, nearly laughing at the odd conclusion. “I’m not afraid of heights! I was afraid of you falling!”

Pulling her hand away, Jenn folded her arms. “I still don’t know why you’d bother but… well, it’s good you don’t have issues being up high. Whenever you get on your way, you’ll want to be prepared for climbing things.”

The reminder of departing threatened to bring the stress back to the surface if he didn’t distract himself quickly. “Actually!” Pointing to the empty overhang, Sun scrambled for anything to keep from thinking of the future ahead of them. “I was going to ask what that was for! I can’t tell what it is.”

Following his finger, Jenn ‘hm’ed before answering. “It was supposed to be a long climbing rope but I never got around to finishing the actual rope part.”

“So you can hang something from it safely?”

“Yep. Everything here might look questionable but it was built by a friend of mine with engineering experience so it’s up to par.”

It took all his effort to keep his question to himself about her admitting to having friends somewhere. “Is… there any chance maybe we could tie something up there…?” Curious, Jenn tilted her head again; he likened this expression to a confused animal. Sun tapped the tips of his forefingers together. “I really like silk dancing, it’s… relaxing. I figured it might also help me with my …” Gesturing to himself loosely, the golden bot struggled to find the right way to ask this favor, already prepared to be denied. “... this balance issue. But if not–”

Jenn shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Sun fumbled a bit at the end, unprepared for her approval. There was no sensible way to respond he could come up with other than, “Ah… thank you!”

“I’ve got some leftover fabric at the house, can you sew? I’m sure if you fasten the ends together it’ll hold up pretty well.”

It was never so easy to get a request approved of at the estate, especially the first time it was asked. A flicker of elation coursed through his circuits, a soft pulse of light following suit. “I can, yes!”

“C’mon, then.” Waving him after her, Jenn turned and began the trek back to the house.

As they cleared the wobbling stones and reached the tree line, Sun caught the motion of Jenn untying her skirt, then rubbing her lower back closest to her tailbone. Fearing she actually was hurt from her ‘exercise’, he reflexively inquired, “Are you alright?” hoping it was nothing too worrisome.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just wishing I had a tail.”

“... excuse me?”

Truly, she was a baffling human.

~

“Ee!”

The little pink thing sat on the rail, crouched and ready to spring at him at a moment’s notice. Moon stared it down, faintly amused but mostly inconvenienced by the sudden appearance of Twii. After satisfying the ‘pet me’ quota for both the avian, Aquila, and the canine, Rukbat–-who’d charged up the steps the moment he saw the bird getting attention from the blue robot-–Moon left the roosting platform with the intention to go inside. This meant coming back to the junction of doors that had vexed him previously; on the left, the unlocked kitchen, on the right, the mystery door that the canine had managed to slip into when he’d walked away last.

For a moment, he’d debated trying his hand at getting in again, but to his own surprise it was dismissed faster than it had come up. Was there truly a reason to go prying into the human’s personal business beyond his own unjustified paranoia? Paranoia that was being proven to be ridiculous again and again.

No.

There was no real reason. Perhaps he’d try this ‘benefit of the doubt’ thing the human-–Jenn-–mentioned. Starting by using their names, at least.

It was not a canine–-he was Rukbat.

It was not a bird–-she was Aquila.

The human was Jenn.

The blots of color–

No sooner had he thought of them, Moon felt something smack into his head with a chirp, dragging him from his thoughts. Moving quickly, he took hold of the bundle on his head and brought it into view, not expecting to see the pink pocket computer kicking against his grip and squeaking at him defiantly. “What the halt–”

A tug on his shirt collar made him spin, losing his grasp on the small robot so she could get away. Turning back, Moon saw the pink blur land on the handrail, tail held up to enforce the authority of the chirp she gave him. Scowling, he folded his arms. “Do we have a problem?”

“Ee!”

Whatever that meant, he couldn’t comprehend. Most of him didn’t care to figure it out either. Huffing, the dark robot spoke, more so to fill the silence than to willfully engage in one-sided conversation. “I commend your effort at protecting your owner’s privacy but I don’t think it’ll work as well as you think it does.”

Twii hopped forward once, the end of her tail pulsing. “Ee–eeee! E!”

“Look, I’m not actually trying to break in this time, so–”

Overhead, a different squeak interrupted him, pulling his attention up. Head poking out over the edge of the roof, Laa peeped sternly, “Aa.”

Well, that explains what yanked on me. Looking between the pair for any sign of what they were trying to accomplish, Moon imitated the purple blur with rhetorical flatness, “Ah?”

Laa’s gaze narrowed at him. “A.”

What’s that look for? Did I say something offensive?

“Eeeee…!”

Turning again, Moon’s brows shot up–-Twii clung onto the rail for dear life, little arms wrapped as far around the rail as she could get them, unable to find purchase for her feet on the smooth metal. Quickly but gently, the blue dancer leaned over and cupped his hand, scooping the small bot up before she could fall. Sluggishly, Twii curled into his palm, the end of her tail pulsing weakly; as he observed her with growing worry, her facial screen blinked to a red bar. “Your battery!” he blurted, realizing sharply she hadn’t attacked him, she’d fallen when her magnetic lifting function shut off!

“A.” Laa floated down from the roof, her expression only reading as ‘finally’.

“Where’s your charging dock?” Moon inquired, holding the pink companion protectively against his chest.

Laa pointed toward the kitchen door with a quiet, “A,” before zipping toward it. Following quickly, Moon tailed the small unit through the kitchen, down the hall and into the lounge; Laa banked left at the entryway, stopping over a small end table with a circular charging dock in the middle tucked into the corner of the narrow room. How he never noticed it before now was beyond him, but at least it wasn’t locked behind the impassable doors that continued to taunt him. Ever so carefully, Moon placed the pink twin on the dock, nudging her tail into place so all of her was in contact with the transfer pad; the dock lit up with blue-white light, the red bar flashing on Twii’s face switching to a white indicator the second after.

A breath escaped him as relief filled his system; had he really been stressing over a recharge? Shaking his head at his own odd behavior, Moon’s eyes found and followed Laa as she approached her sister, sitting patiently without climbing onto the dock directly. She felt his gaze and looked up at him, unreadable as always.

“A.”

“You’re welcome.” With nothing else to do, Moon began to rifle through one of the many piles of notes that filled the corners of Jenn’s house, trying to find something worth reading. “I don’t suppose you know what was in that big binder she was looking for, do you?”

He didn’t expect an answer he could understand, only hearing another, “Aa,” that meant nothing to him.

The stapled pamphlet in his hands had a timestamp in the corner from roughly three months ago; the rest of it was a series of figures and formulas regarding an aurora anomaly that he barely understood at a glance. Putting it back, Moon paced around in a small circle. What were we even doing three months ago…? he wondered, attention continually returning to the recharging Stardust when his thoughts slowed.

Three months felt more like three years.

There was no other way to really explain the sensation as he combed through the memory files that weren’t lost or locked away; even though he knew what the passage of time felt like and could measure it using Adir Standard Intervals, there was a lingering disconnect between fact and feeling that he struggled to reconcile. More and more Moon felt a wall building between himself and the outside world. At first it was barely noticeable, done with such insidious slowness that only by looking back could he feel a marked difference in not only his own behavior, but how he related to things around him. To people.

To his own brother.

Three months ago, the two of them still found quiet solace in the garden, enjoying the scant hours they were allowed outside without supervision. Observe the flowers, but never pick them. Enjoy the cygnus birds, but never disturb them. Walk the designated path, never cut across the grass–-they only made that mistake once.

Afterward, Sun was so terrified to deviate from the sidewalk, he’d stopped walking through the yard altogether. Only because of their Lock was Moon able to prevent him from gaining a phobia of grass entirely with how distraught he was once they were reunited–-not that it was new by that point. Moon himself was well aware that their owner was not a kind woman no matter how she tried to portray herself to the public. Purely by the power of his own denial, Sun bought into her kind words–-though that may have been out of self-preservation, thinking back on it. The grass incident was the tipping point, Moon felt, for his brother developing fear of that woman in place of affection or devotion. The excuses had stopped, their disagreements about fairness turned into mutual understanding, but the outdoors had lost its appeal.

It’s not like they ever left the garden anyway.

Now, though, Moon understood better what they were missing out on–-what had been denied them this entire time by that woman’s obsessive desire to smother them. Even that behavior was beginning to make sense to him in hindsight, much as he detested the idea of understanding that vile woman; she was trying to keep them naive, dependent and, this being merely speculation on his part, Moon had a worry that Vissara had been trying to condition them–-or at least Sun–-into being afraid to go outside altogether.

If Sun refused to go outdoors out of fear of stepping on the grass, then Moon wouldn’t go either.

Thankfully, their bond was stronger than Vissara’s manipulation.

However, it was not strong enough to prevent his own mental state from degrading. Disliking his owner was something Moon had within him from nearly the beginning, despite that being considered odd. Something in her mannerisms and behaviors simply didn’t sit right, but the dislike didn’t truly set in until he noticed how restrictive she was. How fixated she was on Sun and on keeping his attention on herself. How she didn't care that those actions were actively harming them both--how much of his own distress he chose to hide from her to avoid making it worse on them.

It turned out he had every reason to despise her.

But now, they were free. Mostly.

Free to travel, to learn, to do whatever they wished–-assuming his dear brother didn’t get attached to the first human showing them common decency. Not that Moon could blame him really, it was literally programmed into their core identity to seek out human company and attempt to fulfill their wishes. To care for them. Please them. Earn their approval.

Yet it still baffled him that his brother didn’t just ignore that urge like he did. He’d long given up that argument as simply being Sun’s nature.

At least it was up until three months ago–

The nagging sensation surged forward from the depths of his mind, bowling over any thoughts currently meandering through his processes to blanket everything with a haze that demanded attention while smothering any attempt to pull free. Three.

Three.

Three months ago, he and Sun would sit in the garden.

He and Sun.

Three weeks ago, he and Sun were preparing–

Error.

–preparing?

Three weeks.

Three–

Moon’s head throbbed painfully as memories attempted to open but couldn’t.

Preparing…

He and Sun.

He… and Sun.

Sun.

Sun.

ERROR.

/MEMORY FILE INACCESSIBLE/

>Reboot?

No!

Light flooded over Moon’s circuits, his pulse points flashing–-everything hurt.

Sun?

What about Sun?

>Reboot?

“NO!”

The sound of his own voice ripped him out of his mental frenzy, bringing Moon back to the moment; everything spun and wobbled, felt wrong.

A dull roar filled the room, as if--

“... Why am I underwater…?”

Roiling around the dark dancer was a bubble, the light of his pulse casting a glimmer through the surface that made him think of stardust in the Sky-Beyond-the-Sky. But it shouldn’t be there! Taking a few breaths to force his system to regulate, Moon tried to recall the water, dismissing it from the room. It was a struggle for a moment. Hopefully nothing was damaged.

“That… isn’t normal,” he told himself, rubbing a hand over his face once everything settled.

“A.”

Turning, Moon caught the unimpressed eye of Laa watching him from the table. A tired chuckle escaped him. “You saw that, didn’t you?”

“Aa-a,” the small computer replied.

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

Laa slow blinked at him.

“Let’s not tell your mom I nearly ruined her upholstery, alright?”

“Aa.”

[atalana]

the curse of adhd:

i will remember with absolute clarity, when the thought strikes me that i have a text to send someone, that this is the fourth time in three days i've attempted to send this specific text

i will forget, in the time it takes me to pick up my phone, that i picked it up intending to send a text

[mrnargle]

whenever my program freezes

[iknowicanbutwhy]

Legit almost happened at work yesterday, why mouth form word not when want to but do when want not

[essektheylyss]

when you're hypercompetent and too busy to show up to the war council so you get voluntold into a stealth mission on the moon 😔

[om0000]

happy pride month guys

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

rough day...

[vio-marks]

tasque manager self-shipping only works if it's like this

[newyork-institute]

A hockey!au where its Coach John Price, goalie Simon Riley, Johnny MacTavish as a defensemen and Kyle Garrick as a forward. Kate Laswell would be there PR manager and Nikolai is in charge of making they get to each destination on time and (looking at you Garrick) one piece.

Coach Price had a couple of Stanley Cups under his belt from his day as a defensemen. He was known throughout the league as being the dad to his team.

(Kate was the mom).

Simon Riley had a skull painted on his helmet and from some of the PR videos Kate has posted on the teams TikTok page, he was given the nickname Ghost because of how he always seemed to come out of nowhere.

Johnny MacTavish is known as a beast on the ice, but all his hits were so clean, the refs never called a penalty. His opponents started calling him Soap on the ice as a deterrent, but Johnny was Johnny and took it as a compliment.

Kyle Garrick is recorded to be the fastest player in the entire league. He’s a smooth player and well liked in the league, so no wonder Coach Price made him Captain.

Kate Laswell loved her job and the boys she worked with. Price and her go way back to when they were teenagers, so it makes Kate’s job so much easier when the Coach cooperates with her. She also definitely babies the boys and will admit that with a smile on her face.

Nikolai was one of the most famous Russian goalies back in the day, having competed against Price in the past. They both lost a Stanley Cup to each other but after retiring from the game, they found they had a lot in common.

(Price is the first openly gay Coach in the league, and the boys couldn’t be any prouder.)

Don’t mind me I thirst for these cod men and for hockey players leave me alone 💀

[aloneinthedark-eagle]

Bread fight in the ocean 💦 🚢💦

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Alucard/Adrian with a s/o who's a polymath (she's a writer, an inventor, a spokeswoman, a scientist, etc.)?

"I don't know how you stand being with them." Alucard turned to look at Trevor. Confused by his unwarranted incredulous thought. "How can you stand being with someone so...perfect?"

The dhampir shrugged. "They aren't perfect."

"Damn near." Trevor countered. "I mean, I get it. Sypha is way smarter than me. But to have them be better at everything than you? That just sounds rough."

"There are bowls of fruit that are smarter than you Belmont." Alucard retorted. "And, they aren't better at everything."

"Name one thing."

"Dinner is ready!"

As if on cue, [Y/N] came into the room with a big smile and a big pot. Trevor saw Alucard straighten his shoulders. Steeling himself, in a way, and he couldn't understand why. Then, when the pot of what he assumed was .....soup?...was sat down in front of him, he could understand why. "Good gods...."

"Thank you darling. Could you get us some napkins please?"

"Sure!" [Y/N] beamed at Alucard before flittering off to get some. After dishing out the 'soup' of course.

"What the hell's even is this? Is that a fish head?!"

"They said something about making a roast earlier." Trevor's head whipped around as they watched the half-vampire poke at some manner of vegetable with a stoic look. Particularly stoic given that it looked like it could bite back. "I guess it went awry."

"I can't eat this. I don't think I could survive it."

"Hmmm.... it's a possibility. I've had a few close calls. Your human constitution may not make it."

"How did this even happen?? I mean...they can nearly do alchemy and handle your science magic. They make medicine! How can they fuck up a soup??"

"Ours is not to question why."

Trevor rubbed his face. Partly out of frustration. Partly to hide the look of it and smell. "You're not really going to eat this are you? I mean...you guys are messing with me, right."

"I can assure you they are not."

"And you're really going to eat this? Like, seriously?" Alucard picked up his spoon and seemed intent to do just that. "Why??"

"Because they try."

Trevor was surprised by the comment. Then he felt like a real heel. Someone had gone through all the work of making him food and he was complaining about it. How quickly he forgot about those days of hunger outside their company. They tried. He should at least try what they made in return.

Picking up his spoon as well, Trevor looked at the bowl and said a little prayer to all the saints he could remember. "It helps if you don't look directly at it." Alucard commented. Before they both tucked in and hoped (prayed) for the best.

[yourhealingjournal]

sometimes you really do have to let go what you want to do at least for the moment, not because you don’t deserve it or you are not allowed to have it, but because you have too much on your plate & your peace is more worth keeping than the overwhelm of achieving everything now.

[delicatepointofview]

gonna have to deal with people missing the point of louis singing 1d songs in festivals... don't get me started on the other covers

[donutdrawsthings]

I've been hit by a severe case of the Dan VS hyperfixation and I'm afraid it's fatal

[vexwerewolf]

When a Microsoft task refuses to shut down correctly, using the Task Manager really feels like throwing the One Ring into Mount Doom. "With his power was it made, and so by its power shall he be unmade."

[superbellsubways]

t. task manager. uhm. office. higher up… uhm.. 😁😁😁😁

whats funny is that I actually have considered a task manager with this exact icon design before this ask LOL shes just a basic computer/robot woman to me i think