Last Seen Blogs
athena-thumbellina
Goth Squad
out-datedmorality
Blue Haired, Green Eyed Little Fae Creature
thealyass
ashashaa
jibberjibbsart
Baldur’s gate Brain-rot
uzuldilerim
GRİ
Text
gammaoctober:
“No. I have no solid theories,” October admits, something that might be frustration twitching at the corner of his mouth.
He has ideas. Maybe the card was delivered to all of the scientists that studied Eden, but he hasn’t yet found any others to confirm this. Maybe it was another scientist that delivered it. Maybe it was–
No. He cannot bring himself to imagine that Eden himself may have sent it.
October takes the card back, cradling it gently between gloved hands, before tucking it back into his pocket. “This card was given to one of the scientists that studied Eden’s powers,” he shares, because he is certain that he can trust June with this information. “He said that he felt threatened. I don’t understand any of it.”
He also doesn’t understand what it means that June, having just confessed to a myriad of conflicting emotions, is willing to visit their creator, specifically to aid October. Psychological texts written about humans would suggest that she is braving something difficult because she wants to support him. Is that it?
Thank you, is what a human would say.
October blinks at her, studying the twist and curve of emotional expression on June’s face, a puzzle that’s slowly becoming more familiar. “Let’s go,” is what he says instead, standing. “First we will detour behind this church. I must pick up my gift for our creator.”
she considers the ideas that october is bringing up. it’s odd. she hasn’t dealt with a mystery in a long time. it was part of her life with vulcan. trying to solve mysteries and stop crimes before they had happened. it was something she had enjoyed at that time. something she hadn’t really considered she missed. however, there are no faces at the ends of her fists and no blood. no crying. no begging for mercy. she quite likes this part, the thinking. the analyzing. the trying to figure things out. as long as she is not contributing to the chaos, and rather, helping solve it, she thinks she’s found something nice.
“i can understand the threat. unfortunately, he is a threatening person.” after she says it, she realizes just who she’s talking to. will that upset october? she did not mean it in offensive terms. he is dangerous. who knows the state he is in. if june were in that human situation, she would also feel threatened. nothing makes sense. everything is in the air.
he stands, and she looks up at him, eyebrows raising in curiosity. “behind the church for a gift? what are you giving him, garbage?” she snorts. “he may not be my favorite, but i don’t understand how something of the sort would be a welcoming greeting.”
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
oztheinsecureandpowerful:
Oz’s thoughts swirl together. Logically he had noted that this is June, the features familiar and recognizable; but the statement seems just as false as it is true. This is not the June he knew. This is not Vulcan’s June. Even if she had not just verbally confirmed that, every ounce of her demeaner screams as much.
No longer part of my life. It’s said simply, her shoulders shrugging as if they are talking about a misplaced book or lost hair-tie, and not the estrangement from her former lover, her creator, her everything, as far as Oz remembers it. But that was a long time ago. Una vida diferente, his mind whispers, a different lifetime.
They’re practically strangers now. Though June has always been somewhat of a stranger to him, one of his own making. He’d been cordial, of course—sus madres influencia— but distant, nonetheless. It had been a practical move, lest he start to overthink every one of June’s words and actions, picking apart Vulcan’s imprint in them and fueling a resentment that would have only served to divide the family he had found.
But Vulcan was no longer here. Oz had come face to face with June uninhibited—set free from her creator, liberated from her former purpose. And Oz finds the words completely honest when he answers her request, “I’d like that, thank you. It’s good to see you, June. But surely, first you’ll let me replace your drink, for the sake of etiquette if nothing else. I probably owe you a new outfit as well, but it’ll be a start.”
time has passed since that event. frankly, she doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking about it. she’s got a lot more to worry about now. she has to discover herself, rather than thinking about who she used to be and the partner and creator she had. she doens’t like to spend much time thinking about him. it’s a dark and rather cloudy part of her brain that she can’t seem to figure out. she doesn’t really have the preference to figure it out at this point. just wants to keep moving.
thankfully, oz respects that, and doesn't dig deeper to find anything, or get more information. he instead accepts her invitation and that, as well as his lack of interest in her change of operating system, makes her smile. “if you insist, as long as you realize it does nothing for me other than make me feel part of the atmosphere.” she shrugs. “as for the dress, it’s not a worry. it’s hardly stained a good wash should take it right out.” she looks over the wet patch. it smells a bit like alcohol but she knows she could easily take care of it.
she’s sitting at her table now, looking up at him with a soft smile. one that is warm and inviting. “i want to hear about how time has treated you, though.” she means that. he was always kind to her, and she hopes that time was kind to him as well. she assumes his own relationship has come to a conclusion. eden is, of course, gone. she would imagine he would have stayed if things with him and oz were still intact. they don’t need to get into that, however. he respected her rough past, she will do the same.
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
gammaoctober:
That all sounds incredibly complicated, and October… well, he can’t quite comprehend most of it. He understands the words, of course, but not the feeling beneath them. He has never had a relationship – whether romantic or friendship – so this churning mix of emotion is baffling to him.
One thing is for certain: June was definitely built to experience the real thing. More than that, she’s learning. She’s defining her own parameters.
“And that is why you don’t visit him more often,” he concludes. “Because everything is messy.”
That, at least, he can understand. Their mechanical minds are built for order, regulated systems and files of knowledge stored neatly in their place. Their code is meant to function along straight lines, unwavering. Like October’s did, in the very beginning. Like it doesn’t, now.
I miss the routine of being with him.
That, too, October understands.
He takes the card out of his pocket, and offers it to June. The shape on it – two overlapping rectangles, joined by a circle – still hold no meaning for him. “I was given a clue in my search for Eden,” he explains. “I thought our creator might know something. Does this symbol mean anything to you?”
“in the simplest of explanations, yes.” she nods. as much as she can define it, and put it into simple words that he can understand, that is the reason. some days she doesn’t because she angry, others because it saddens her too much. she has a hard time understanding all of that herself, having october understand it would be next to impossible. so the simplified version would have to do.
“i will go, though.” she nods, glancing at him. “for you.”
she alone gives her a feeling she’s unfamiliar with until him. she has cared since her reprogramming. there have been people that she she has grown to care for. however, under this context. the context of finding someone you share something beyond yourself with, such as a creator, there’s a bond she’s never felt until now. she would put her own comfort after his priorities, if he felt it would help. she wants to help him, even if it means being in a tough place. besides, the image of seeing him, in the presence of the two monsters he created, would amuse her greatly.
she shifts herself towards him more, and takes the card into her hands. “interesting.” she says quietly, looking over the symbol. “unfortunately, i don’t recognize it.” she then glances back at him. “do you have any theories?”
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
fauxribs:
THERE WAS SOMETHING beautifully vulnerable about the creatures. mostly silent, they seemed to turn at every sound, hyper-observant. ox would like to be like that, never let something slip his grasp. he doesn’t respond to her apology at first, “..look how the mother duck knows exactly how to calm and wrangle her ducklings.” he says, “i think that’s pretty amazing, that genuine sort of leadership. we can all take some notes from her book.” he vaguely wonders if that’s the correct phrase to use, but it’s a concern pushed aside when he begins to think about his own mother figure. she was the thing that birthed him and not much else, and up until being on earth that never once bothered him. now, though, he wouldn’t mind having a human mother to calm him down, help lead him in the right direction.
his tone of voice is somewhat unreadable, it’s sincere but with a certain strict avoidance. he’s got a lot on his mind, a lot to sort through (much like his apartment), and frankly, he’s not sure where to start.
reaching into the bag wedged between them, ox tosses some grains into the grass, watches small ducks waddle on over, “..thank you for apologizing, though there’s no need. i had an interesting run in myself. the whole atmosphere was off to me, i just wanted to get out of there too.” for some odd reason, smiling felt like a great deal of effort that day, when it was usually second nature. he manages something small once he turns to her, subtle but trying. he wonders what his eyes are translating; he looks back at the ducks. “care to tell me about this.. run in you had?”
june always wondered if her senses would be able to tune into ox. he is technically an foreign being, afterall. his own behaviors would be built on a culture that doesn’t exist on her planet, therefore, hasn’t been programmed into her system. she does, however, know how to recognize human emotion. and seeing what she sees, her senses say that something is particularly... right. his posture is off, there is a tightness in his face that resembles something of discomfort. it is subtle though, and she’s not confident within her readings yet to take action. she’s paying attention though. listening to him closely in hopes to find something in his words that will trigger a definite response.
his words don’t confirm anything. she makes a note to herself to ask him about his discomfort at the gala, and his own run-in. for now, she will answer his question. maybe her own story will taunt him away from whatever is on his mind. as much as she would like to know, her primary concern is making sure he is alright, or gets to feeling alright.
“well,” she presses her lips together, getting another handful of grain and gently dropping it on the ground around her for the ducks. “i had known that my... creator,” she clears her throat, “had created another. in a dark time after i had left to be on my own. i only knew of his existence but it was that this event i had finally met him. i think the proper way to describe it would be overwhelming.” she shrugs, looking back up at him. “i’ve never really known kinship before. i don’t think we’re meant to.” she says, in reference to androids such as herself.
1 note
·
View note
Text
oztheinsecureandpowerful:
Oz loves New York. He knows he does. And he hates that this has become something he has to remind himself of; that it isn’t the innate fact that it used to be. He fell in love with New York at twelve years old, staring out an open window of a building Ana had designed based entirely on the potential of its view from the top floor: the whole city laid bare before his eyes. Though it seems so long ago now—a different lifetime, a different Oz—he remembers his breath catching in his throat, eyes wide and unsure of where to look first. So many buildings, so many people, so much to explore. Back then Oz was sure that he would never be able to see it all but he felt determined to try anyway.
And maybe that’s why he’s out here wandering the streets just before twilight, desperate to reclaim the credence of his youth. The light of day is quickly dwindling, but the city still very much alive; which is what Oz needs now. Desperate to remind himself of life outside of him own. Even when pressing towards the future, Oz has a bad habit of stumbling straight into the past. He wasn’t heading in any particular direction, yet he finds himself in front of a restaurant the team had frequented on occasion. The nostalgia is so thick that Oz thinks he might choke on it, and yet the desire for the familiar outweighs the discomforting heartache already blooming in his chest and his feet start to move towards the entrance as if he can physically walk back through the fond memories.
He’s exactly steps into the restaurant when he reminds himself that this truthfully is a terrible idea—not the mention the exact opposite of what he is supposed to be doing—and he wheels himself around to exit. Which happens to be the moment he collides with some poor girl, jostling her previously full drink all over her. “Carajo! I’m sorry, I should have been looking where I was going.” He apologizes sincerely. His eyes jump and doing a double take on the woman’s face. “June…? Where’s-“ Oz immediately feels his jaw clamp shut before the name of the Android’s creator can fall from his lips, the weight of the realization of just how much has changed in the time that has elapsed since they saw each other hitting him suddenly.
june’s never been afraid of the past. it’s always been a bit confusing to try and sift through her own perception of that time now, but she’s not upset by it. there’s elements of that time that bring joy to her when she remembers. there’s a lot that feels tainted, but she’s still chosen to find some elements that she appreciates. at this current moment, she’s looking at a face that had brought her some comfort from that time. oz was always kind to her, and even when, at that time, she might not have been treated the best by some of those around her, he was polite. nice enough. that’s really all that could have been asked given her situation.
she knows the question on his tongue. thankful he cuts himself off since she doesn’t quite like hearing that name throw around. it’s a simple enough question, without knowing what has transpired in the last few years. she remains composed, though. she gives him a casual shrug, looking at her now empty glass. “no long part of my life.” she says, keeping her reply as simple as the question at hand. “why don’t you join me at my table? i don’t particularly need another drink, anyways.” she chuckles at her own irony, giving oz a smile, in hopes that that brings him some comfort given the situation.
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Time: 4:57pm
Place: Lakeside
Availability: @fauxribs
of all the chaos going around, it seemed the only ones who weren’t particularly concerned, were the ducks. they were peaceful creatures. reminded her of the fish he had in her apartment. so blissfully naive, going about their nature in the way their little duck brains had programmed them. they were friendly enough. something about june gave them the impression she was of no threat. she also had grains which she fed to them. some would come free from the water, and approach her by her feet where she’d set some grain beside her.
then ox had joined her, and she set the bag between them. both two non-humans, providing something friendly for the ducks. they had their own company of them. “i apologize for leaving you at the gala. i had an interesting run in and i found no other reason to stay after that.” she looks over to him, giving him her radiant smile.
1 note
·
View note
Text
gammaoctober:
October doesn’t know how to answer that question.
Like implies emotional investment. Would he prefer it if June accompanied him? On a certain level, yes, because June’s presence may make their creator more willing to speak, so June being there provides an advantage that October doesn’t have on his own. And yet, he doubts that’s the sort of reason she’s getting at.
She wants to know if October wants her to be there because he’d feel positive emotions as a result, that he’d feel negative emotions if she turned his offer down.
One thing is obvious: June feels. She feels so much more than October. Maybe it’s because she was programmed to, maybe she’s just had more practice. Her body language is exquisitely mimicked, discomfort and hesitation and old emotions coming to the foreground. October can read them, he just… doesn’t know if he feels them.
In the end, he can’t answer, gaze fixed on the stained glass window above the alter. He thinks he, too, might be feeling discomfort, the chafing of programming trying to work outside of its confines.
“Why don’t you visit him more often?” October asks instead.
it’s a heavy question. one she wishes she could unpack in a single sentence. a way that is optimal and makes her sound more efficient. that’s the way october works. in that regard, and only in this instance, does she wish she was able to accomplish that. but thinking about him just makes her code start to cross and it’s like her operating system can put any algorithm together to form an answer. it’s fuzzy and she goes through a ranger of emotions, flipping quickly like shuffling a deck of cards.
she still hasn’t managed to settle on one yet.
she doesn’t pressure him to answer the previous question. she likes to believe her own answer but she’s not sure it’s true. instead she sighs and let’s her head hang just slightly. “i wish the answer to that were simple.” so she shrugs. “but the more forefront reason is that i’m trying to sort things on my own. he’s given me life but he also gave me the only moment i felt fear in my life. he made me what i am today, and allowed me to live this life but... it comes with so many complications.” she presses her lips together. “he is what i used to be. i’m trying to figure out who i am now, and it’s hard to have him around while trying to do that.” she’s not sure he’ll understand. hell, she has a hard time understanding it herself. “i have no idea though. sometimes i’m angry with him, sometimes i’m sad. some times i miss the routine of being with him, and the company her provided.”
there’s a pause, and maybe, if the light catches her just right, there’s tears welling in her eyes. “i imagine this is what it feels like when human companionship comes to an end. just... messy.”
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
mccall-osterman:
A warm night. The air’s been warm for a while, ever since the world heated up three degrees and the last Arctic Peregrine took flight. There were questions of mass calamity in years prior — whether we’d sink, whether the earth would cease to be inhabitable and our species would end. But if there’s anything true about humanity, it’s that it clings to life despite its errors, no matter who or what or how many it takes down, no matter what cost.
The restaurant’s too cold. Mccall wraps her arms around the goosebumps she shivers into, wills attention away from her as she plucks a cardigan from a stranger’s chair. It’s a nice number — earth-toned cashmere with suede elbow patches, and she drapes it over her shoulders, loops the sleeves in front of her chest and catches some passerby as she heads in. June — doing her own thing in a restaurant — grabbing a coffee for herself — just for the joy of it — a nice change. “Unfortunate,” Mccall repeats, but her lips quirk upwards. “Been a while. Tell me about how’ve you been and I’ll buy you another.”
nice thing she doesn’t get cold. she knows that it would be an unfriendly temperature for the human skin, and she sees others wrapped in their light jackets or clutching themselves because they had forgotten one. june, however, was happy in her own attire, bare arms shown and everything. when she gazes at the familiar face, she breaks out into a small smile, nodding her head. “well i would love to.” she takes her heat at her table, waving her friend off. “don’t worry about the drink. it’s pointless anyways. just makes me feel part of the crowd.” you would think she wouldn’t care much if she fit in with the human crowd, but she always wanted to feel humanity within herself. she gestured to the seat across from herself. “take a seat.”
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
gammaoctober:
Dear brother.
An interesting title. Technically not applicable – sibling is a biological term. Humans don’t refer to toasters made on the same factory line as siblings. And yet, October feels it applies. So, as he sits ramrod straight in the pew, a figure of black kevlar and steel-toed boots and a spatter of hydraulic fluid over a cheekbone, among a sparse crowd of Sunday best, he tilts his head in acquiescence.
“I thought I should speak to you,” is his answer, carefully worded. Not to deceive her, but to avoid the phrasing I wanted to. October isn’t programmed to want anything other than to carry out his mission; acknowledging personal wishes that have no relevance to the mission makes him feel… uneasy.
But what does he want to speak to June about?
He doesn’t quite know.
“How long has it been since you have seen our creator?” He’s not talking about Eden, this time, but their shared creator. “I have a gift for him. I wondered if you might want to accompany me when I deliver it.”
it’s very clear that she and october have quite different systems in place. june now has no programmed objectives or boundaries, she knows october does. those objectives and boundaries give them quite different approaches. he’s a stoic creature. one that is firm with his goal. even if his question is tough, the final part brings a small smile to her lips.
“would you like me to accompany you?” as if she’s heard some sort of confession slip up. he wanted this meeting, asked her to come. even if her feelings are more apparent, he can’t hide the interest he has in his newly met sibling.
she let’s her smile flatten when she decided to answer the question at hand. there’s a bit of discomfort in her posture now as she adjusts, shaking her head. “it’s been a few months since i’ve stopped by.” of all the parts of june’s life she’s come to figure out, that was the one part she couldn’t. it was frustrating, because she wanted to feel something. but every time she thought of him, things just would get messy.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
divineheat:
the taste of coffee is something lazarus never got accustomed to. growing up on that tiny little farm, there were many rules he had to follow and one of those was that coffee was one of the devil’s drinks, among many, including also anything carbonated and obviously alcohol. his first taste of coffee was at nineteen, freshly moved into the city and extremely wide-eyed, more so than the present. the barista gave him a strange look when he walked up to the counter and told her that he wanted a ‘sample of their finest coffee.’ it took her a while to realize he wasn’t experienced in ordering fancy drinks and gave him the most normal coffee the cafe had. the moment that dark liquid hit his long, he felt his body jerk forward and his tongue was screaming. half because it was scalding hot but also because the bitterness was too much for him. the barista laughed as he spit that mouthful back into the container. ever since then he’s stuck to other drinks, tea and juice, the classics.
the dirty blonde man frequented this restaurant often, it was just close enough from his work where he could walk but he also wouldn’t see any of co-workers. he didn’t like them or anything but when you doing intense research on your laptop about your past, you’d rather not have someone who is barely an acquaintance interrupting you or asking questions. as laz turned to go down the walkway that went to the doors, his body bumps into the body of someone much smaller. icy blue eyes widened, his heart immediately feeling like it was going to explode from guilt as he saw the drink spill down the woman’s dress. “ oh frick ! oh my god ! i’m so sorry ! lemme get that ! “ the man quickly grabbed a handful of napkins from a dispenser on the table she went to sit and hastily started to pat her dress dry, realizing that he probably shouldn’t be touching a stranger without her permission a little too late. “ oh god - sorry ! um - here ! lemme get you another drink, on me ! obviously on me because i spilled yours! “ laz exclaimed as he stopped patting and held out the napkins for her to take.
human interactions pertaining guilt were always fascinating. it was always polite for them to believe they were cause of all the trouble in situations such as theses. similar to how she would move through a store, and a women apologized for moving around her hastily. never actually touching her, or disrupting her space. june was highly confused about the apologies at first. they never did anything wrong to her. then she clued in that it was just polite. which seemed dumb, considering that it takes the value away form apologies. however, trying to shift human nature was next to impossible.
she stood still as the other frantically began to dab at her dress, she then looked up to study him. an eyebrow quirked up, she let out a breath of a laugh, which came out smooth. “i don’t think you need to trouble yourself.” she shrugs. “seems rather pointless for you to spend your money on my pointless infatuation.” she sets her glass down on her table and looks down at her dress. thankfully, it’s dark, and the color doesn’t really show. if that had been stained, then they’d have a problem. “honestly, don’t worry about it.” if she poured water in her martini glass, it would be the exact same thing.
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Time: 2:13pm
Place: Local church chapel
Availability: @gammaoctober
it was long since service ended. june of course, attended mass, however, she’d been sitting in the chapel for the last two hours, enjoying the feeling of being under what the humans would consider to be god’s roof. she watched as other came through. they lit candles, or some just prayed. she watched a woman cry over her rosary, which in turn had made june cry as she watched. something was beautiful about watching someone crying to a god they had no proof over. whatever emotional circumstance the woman had, she was laying it all out for her god, begging for some sort of relief, whatever that meant for her. june wanted it for her as well. she hoped her god would be able to deliver. or she’d at least find the peace she was looking for.
finally, as expected, a companion had sat beside her. june knew she wasn’t the churchly sight. dressed in her black dress, accompanied by her red neck scarf and black beret. she held her purse in her lap which, actually carried very little, but she liked the intriguing design of neutral colors. october, however, stuck out for the opposite reason. she chose not to address it. “to what do i owe the pleasure, dear brother?” she can’t help but break a smile, looking over to him. she leans in a bit. “i thought i’d try that out.” she leans back, looking at one of the stain glass windows. “i like the way it feels. i think i’m going to continue with that.”
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
the sky is starting to turn. june understands that many people surrounding her question if it will be the last sunset they witness. june hasn’t really wanted to think deeply about things like that. she’s still on her own journey that she doesn’t want to hold herself back from finding more about herself. she will live to see the end of the world, be it tonight, or hundreds of years from now. the only difference is she’s choosing to be smarter than that, and not let it cloud her judgement.
observing is one of her favorite things sitting outside one of the roaring new york city restaurants, she enjoys having her drink in one hand, cigarette in the other. serves little purpose to her but she likes that it makes her feel wholly human, in some perverse way.
she then realizes her drink is empty. it’s the choice of staying and hoping a server comes to her, or getting another herself. she decides the latter and raises to her feet. she puts her cigarettes out and gets to her feet, going to the bar and getting another drink where, upon returning to her seat, she bumps into a shoulder, sending her drink across her dress. “well,” she sighs, not particularly upset, but merely analyzing the situation. “that’s unfortunate.”
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
gammaoctober:
She doesn’t know.
It’s not surprising – nobody seems to know anything about Eden’s disappearance – but October had categorized her as a potentially useful lead. She was two steps removed from Eden, but then, that was closer than most, so to hear June say that she doesn’t know…
There’s a peculiar feeling in his hydraulics. A sort of boiling heat, with no actual temperature fluctuation. Imagined, perhaps. It calls to mind the way humans describe anger: heat, churning in the gut, tension in the muscles. That 5% of his processing that hasn’t stopped playing Eden’s name on a loop ticks up to 10%.
–eden eden eden–
He has no gut to feel anger or loss or fear in, and yet.
25%. Titanium knuckles creak with strain.
–eden eden EDEN–
October begins to weigh the pros and cons of force in this situation. It’s entirely possible that June is lying. If she has that capacity, she’d be excellent at it. She was programmed to love their Creator; was she already practiced at lying? Had she actually felt that love? If October breaks her leg right now, would that make her more or less likely to give him information if she is lying?
35%– then, back to 5%, like a hard reset, June’s question knocking him out of his feedback loop. Like a splash of cold water to the face, the humans would say.
October squints at her. “First you would have to define the definition of hurt as it applies to an android.” If he sounds faintly perplexed, it’s because, well, he is. “Is this question related to Eden’s whereabouts?”
it’s a valid question. one that does in fact required further explanation. she understands pain as it applies to humans. but what is hurting when it comes to them? june understands that while she wasn’t programmed to feel physical pain, they function similar to children and youth in general. the things you see and that are done to you tend to have an affect on who you turn out to be. as in, if october had been treated different, would this conversation be happening in a different way?
maybe june is naive and rather childish for wanting a heart felt reunion for someone who shares something in common with her that is so deep as their creator. she knows it’s extremely childish to want an embrace of physical affection to stimulate parts of her processors and give her what she knows to be joy. but it’s a kind of joy she’s never had, one that she’s been without. she envies humans for having unconditional love from family. she’s been alone since her reprogramming. she’s been drifting around this city hoping to discover herself and her life, and she’s felt what humans describe as loneliness. her whole creation was built upon companionship, then to suddenly not have it, it felt a bit cold. after the excitement of learning about the world with a fresh new lens, that coldness was all she was left with.
so what is pain to them? these are the kinds of questions she likes to think about, but for once, she’s not sure what it means. “i just hope they treated you alright.” she sighs, tapping her glass. “you don’t need to tell me. i don’t have anything to share with you, so it seems you have no interest in sharing with me.” she turns to look at him, giving him the semblance of a smile. “it gives me joy just to be standing in front of you and finally meet you.” which was the truth. even if he wanted no part in her path, it made her happy finally crossing, and knowing eden hadn’t destroyed him.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
fauxribs:
SUDDENLY, he’d perish before letting her doubt herself, “i think i’m just.. not equipped to converse with a thought process like yours. we’re all a bunch of idiots, stumbling along in attempts to understand and then there’s you.” he pauses then, and his head tilts back and forth in small twitches of thought, like he’s debating his own words, “..glowing with sureness. or at least it seems that way to me,” he thinks about curiosity and how far it got him. he thinks about all the sleep he lost and all those thoughts he couldn’t keep in, had to use that energy, had to BECOME that energy. so much that he forgets to say you’re welcome, “..how does one know if they’re going insane?” maybe it’s redundant to ask, but weirdly he doesn’t mind putting it out there.
ox’s gaze falters, falls somewhere else in softness. the floor, moving feet, her words make him feel a particular sort of warmth. oh, to be thrown into another world; she was built here and he could almost be jealous of the fact. she was a product of humanity, and some could say he was a visitor, an intruder, “and you think that gives me an advantage?” he looks to her fleetingly but with genuine inquiry. the room was suddenly muffles of color and sound, something of a backdrop. that is, until she speaks again, “hey, take your own advice, june. where’s the fun in being like everyone else?” a quick, loose grin blooms; though the sentiment hits him where it hurts, in fabricated ribs, lungs. was there a place to rest in the middle of individuality and the ache to blend in? if he ever finds that place, he’ll build a home there, and invite june over for brunch. “besides, practically everybody was speaking in riddles to my understanding when i first got here. i mean, finger food? really?”
considering her knowledge of ox has gone to the extent of news articles, photographs, and the occasional tabloid magazine at the nail salon. now he was beside her and he exceeded everything she had expected. though she would figure that magazines meant to be plucked off the stands wouldn’t have the most accurate portrayal. she lets out a light hum, lips tilted up. “you’re trying to flatter me. i don’t understand why, but it’s working.” glowing with sureness. it sounded nice. she hadn’t heard many nice things since she was fed beautiful prose by her creator. or words dripped in desire catch between moonlight. as far as she could tell, there were no hidden intentions behind telling her such a kind thing. what had he to gain from this? regardless, his conversation, now that it was off something so mundane, interested her a great deal. she held her glass to her lip for a moment, thinking before she spoke. ‘i don’t think one does. you just have to hope you’re surrounded by people who care enough about you to help. otherwise, you’re just at the mercy of threads unraveling.” that was a concern of being on her own. being away from her creator. she hadn’t anyone to watch over her, make sure her wires didn’t come loose. “maybe that’s the scariest part... that no one will notice.” maybe she’s already there.
she watches as something switches in him. was he displeased with her comment? did it cause for an unwarranted affect? what of it was sensitive to him? he tilted her head to the side in question when he asked, only to give him his answer with little hesitation. “it offers a perspective unlike any of the billions of perspectives. among the different cultures, different religions, ideologies, interests, loves, we were all raised with the same cultural principles. the same ideas. the entitlement of our own ideas being the right ones, and others the wrong. you, on the other hand, are a beautiful blank canvas to be painted on by your surroundings. as they say, you have no skin in the game.” she finishes her glass of champagne, looking down at the now empty glass. “i drink this not because alcohol gives me a feeling, but because i was surrounded in a culture, programmed with the mindset of someone who knew that alcohol was a social drink. it makes me feel present. you didn’t come to earth with that concept.” she twists the class,s watching the single drop move around the bottom. “maybe it’s not an advantage, but it’s unique.” they were both intruders. both terrifying because they represented the future. june would call that powerful. they feared it. she never understood that. she raises an eyebrow. not only when he he tries to compliment her once more, but again, giving what she can process as a joke. laughter is hard. instead she smiles and meets his eyes. “i never anticipated you to be quite this funny.”
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
fauxribs:
HE DOESN’T TAKE her slight seeming indifference personally. that’s something he had to learn the hard way, “..quantum mechanics.” ox echos in a somewhat unreadable manner; maybe something short of thoughtfully, maybe critically.. observant. though it was most undeniably muttered. everything aside, he sees her point — arms cross, he lets her words marinate in his head for a small while; if you try to find reason, it’s certain you’ll go mad, “curiosity equals.. insanity. got it. anything else, doctor?” a monotone attempt to be playful, he nudges her arm with the tip of his elbow, just gently. he turns ahead once more, and breathes out carefully, “..i’d like to die somewhere sunny,” he says it like the concept of death, looming and inevitable, doesn’t seem to faze him. surprisingly it’s not something he’s had a chance to ponder on for too long. there’s just too much going on now to think about all those ifs and whens, “as long as it’s sunny on that hill, i think i’ll take that chance.”
incomes a weird sense of calm standing beside her, both dazing at the slow changing screen. it’s a feeling of community, everyone on the same page, at least outwardly. all anyone could do is watch those frozen, lively faces made out of pixels and a ton of 0’s and 1′s. though he finds himself immediately scoffing at her statement, “jeez, you sound like a fortune cookie.” he actively tries to not make it sound like a direct attack, something completely malicious in nature. he’s not quite sure how well his efforts translated. something about his demeanor is defeated now as he shifts on his weight, “..but i guess you know better than i do.”
june shakes her head slightly when he misunderstands her intention behind the words. she tilts her glass towards him to clarify. “curiosity is what fuels the advancement of the world. curiosity placed into things that lead to no explanation or answers, that will lead to insanity.” she pauses. “maybe i’m doing that thing again where i speak like a troll.” she lets out a small sigh. “my apologies. my point is, the human language makes no sense and you’re better putting your energy into quantum mechanics than deciphering language that is thousands of years old.” she shrugs, looking back over to ox. speaking of hills, she feels her lips begin to twitch. “that’s quite funny.” she looks back at the screen. june doesn’t like thinking of death. it’s different for her. consciousness is on a hard drive, but she’s felt the feeling of being, and suddenly being off. the idea of possibly being off forever is terrifying. no amount of sunshine, oceans, or stars, can comfort her into the fact of death. thankfully, she’s certain it doesn’t have to be a fact for her if she doesn’t want it to be so.
looking down at her glass, she presses her lips into a flat line. “fortune cookies so rarely truly have fortunes. typically just vague and nondescript facts. it’s quite disappointing. but i will take that as a compliment, thank you.” she sighs, as if the reality of fortune cookies has a genuine affect on her. it’s one of the more disappointing factors of human life--- laziness. she can’t find everything beautiful. but she understands that laziness plays a grand roll as well. as much as it disappoints her. “i think you should give yourself more credit. we both have an outsider’s opinion. we both learn at a faster speed that they do. we both notice more than they do. in fact, one might think you know more than i do. i’m crafted by their hands, you were born to a different planet. i have their civilization in my bones and in my nature. you do by choices.” she studies the bubbles in her flute and let’s out a sigh. “there i go again.” she curses the beautiful mind that based her language off of romantic era books. “one day i wont speak in riddles.”
#┗ ✕ ° ›› conversation .#→ ⋄ ft. ox#//#tfaot: that famous alien over there#it'll catch on w the kids i swear
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
virtuosoxfrelsari:
The faces on the screen were happier than the ones in the room, but even the somber atmosphere was unable to damper the smile on Blair’s face. It was golden, radiant, and manufactured entirely for the press. He had tucked himself away, surrounded by big names with bigger wallets. Blair was there for a reason, after all, and even while paying his and the government’s respects to the fallen, he still was doing his best to attract donors and support for whatever new program he was representing today.
He didn’t actually know what it was he was prompting but the words still flowed like golden honey from his lips and they seemed to be loving it. And so when he had their word, one tied to the green they practically overflowed with, he excused himself, champagne in hand. One goal down, the other? To look pretty, to look sad, to play the roll of dejected mourner.
For once, it wasn’t hard. He knew the faces, if not personally, than by reputation. It was almost impossible to look away from the screen. It always was in these situations. Something about grief was transfixing, one was almost afraid that to look away would imply they didn’t care. And Blair did genuinely care. Somewhere.
It was the question that pulled him from his rather frantic search for those aforementioned cares, and he turned, eyebrow raised. “Tonally insensitive?” Blair repeated, eyebrow practically soaring off his face. “This isn’t exactly a party. Ma’am,” he added on, remembering just who he was while he was here. He needed to be golden, and that’s what compelled him to ask, “Are you lost? Perhaps I can assist you if you are?” Blair smiled, extending a hand. “And if you aren’t, would you be willing to do me a favor and explain how you perceive this to be insensitive?” HIs hand moved to his heart, and, with sincerity practically pouring from his lips, he continued, “I want to make this the best it can be, for those we’re honoring. And if event staff will listen to anyone, they’ll listen to me.”
There was a raised brow when her new company had replied. Who would have thought the golden boy himself would be standing beside her, trying to make this event the most perfect it could be. She respected him for the way he would present himself. Even with a manufactured mind, she understands the human difficulty of remaining the same. She wonders if he ever has dark moments. He has to. Gold might not rust over but she’s fairly confident there’s parts inside of him covered in cobwebs. Humans are tainted creatures, whether they like it or not. She hopes he’s tainted, too. It’s a part that makes them beautiful.
After her gaze shifts up his person, then back down, she turns back to the screen. “To my understanding, slideshows seem often used at far different places of celebration than one of death.” he raises her hand. “Here we stand, looking at photographs of happy men and women, in costume or out. There’s somber music to try and make us feel an emotion that we wish to feel freely on our own. No one likes being told how to feel. It reminds me of...” she fades off, snapping her fingers when she remembers, “Those videos on television, with the sad dogs.” June points towards him. “Except this is far more unsettling.”
she sips more of her champagne, looking back at the golden boy. “I’m not sure if you knew an of these people, or spent much time with them. I feel as though they deserve better than to have their loss be heavy handed.” she shrugs. “Though I’ve misunderstood human nature before, I could be entirely wrong once again.”
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
gammaoctober:
I would have quite enjoyed discussing the qualms of human sensitivity with you.
Enjoyed.
October’s aware, of course, that other androids have been made with emotional capacity. The humans squabble and bicker about whether they truly feel or if it’s mere mimicry, but October knows it’s real. For some of them. Not him, he doesn’t think. He retains some distant curiosity about what it must be like to feel, whether his experiences match up, but talk of that is outside of his purpose tonight.
He doesn’t know much about June. Only what his first Creator had said as he was working on October’s shell, bits and pieces and snippets of a lost love. He supposes their shared Creator makes them siblings, of a sort – perhaps half-siblings? Even if the notion is a biological construct, it feels right.
So he watches June sip her champagne (for what purpose is she drinking?), give him a perfectly programmed smirk (so very human it’s almost surprising), and says carefully, “In the two hours I have allotted to dedicate to this gathering, I estimate I will have some spare time.” Normally, he would find a quiet spot and be still, contemplate, but perhaps he can spend it… discussing.
Until then: “Do you have any idea why Eden has gone missing? Have you heard anybody speak of it?”
There’s something in him, it strikes her interest more than she’s used to and she’s not sure as to why. Clearly, he’s an android, and a peculiar one at that. But there’s something in her system trying to tell her something. Pieces aren’t fitting together, and her not knowing is making her more interested than she typically feels. She has this need to know. Who is he? Where does he come from? What is he about?
When he estimates being able to have the discussion with her, an eyebrow raises in interest. She doesn’t know much, but it must mean something if he’s willing to put value in her. Enough to offer to make time. “I would be quite interested in the spare time you’re willing to give me.” his perspective, whatever it is, would be far more engaging than many humans she’s spoken, and since leaving, she’s spoken to plenty.
The question then comes and she looks him over again. Why does he care? What is it about Eden that matters so much? That was his sole purpose to arriving here? Then it finally clicks in her system. “Oh,” She says out loud, an audible reaction of shock. She’d never actually seen him. Hardly forgotten he existed. She came by Vulcan’s once to pick up something she’d left behind. she saw a crack in a door. Another body. She left with zero questions asked, and no answers. June was aware that Eden had taken interest in her Vulcan’s gift. He looked at her in ways that made her feel something that now feels like discomfort. Through the grapevine, she heard things. He was a fragile beast who was cracking and breaking and she wondered if he and Vulcan created this monster with cracked and broken hands.
“I’m not the bot to know.” She wants to say something. June understands they’re different, but this wasn’t the introduction she’d ever expected, meeting another made by the hands of her creator. “I’ve separated myself from that part of the world. I came here because it seemed right.” She looks down at her champagne, studying the bubbles. “Respect is something I’m still trying to understand.”
Her head tilts, and she knows any answer to a question she has can be found in the harsh features of his face but she can’t help but make sure. “They never hurt you, did they?” She’s not sure what to make of those two, not after leaving. Not after hearing how things had been left. There was an ounce of concern that her Vulcan turned into a cruel god, but primarily, she wanted to make sure they’d never laid a harmful figure on a creature who had never asked to be put on this painful world.
Is this was kinship is supposed to be?
#┗ ✕ ° ›› conversation .#→ ⋄ ft. october#//#boy did this get long#i realized after writing this#an android mind would recognize and figure i out instantly#but i was like#mmm that's not dramatic tho so#¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯
6 notes
·
View notes