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colleendoran · 4 months

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Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

Go me!

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt.

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back.

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news.

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work.

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing.

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work.

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way.

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry.

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings, enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks.

#good omens graphic novel #good omens #terry pratchett #neil gaiman #dunmanifestin

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carmenberzattosgf · 2 months

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Carm helping you study and every time you get a question right you get a “reward”🥵

This has been in my ask box for a month. I deeply apologize anon. BUT ANYWAY YEAH.

You’re over at Carmy’s place. You brought along all the stuff you need to get homework done, but to no avail. No matter how hard you try you can’t focus on your homework assignment.

Instead of your homework, your eyes are focused on Carmy sitting next to you. He’s wearing a tight white tank top that shows off his arm muscles. It’s like he’s trying to distract you.

“Shouldn’t you be doing your homework?” Carmy asks. Your staring wasn’t as discreet as you thought.

“It’s hard to stay on task when you’re wearing a shirt like that, Carm. Besides, I already don’t want to do this shit in the first place,” you sigh.

“When’s it due?”

“Uh…” you check the clock on your phone. “Two and a half hours.”

“Dare I ask how much of it is done?”

“Um. None of it? Told you I didn’t want to do it.”

You can tell Carmy’s thinking by the look on his face. Suddenly, his expression turns into a smirk as he widens his leg on the couch. “Come here. Sit on my thigh,” he says, patting the fabric of his jeans. Eagerly you stand up, putting your laptop to the side. You face Carmy, about to straddle his thigh before he stops you. “Ah ah ah. Not so fast. Turn around the other way.”

“Okay…” You listen, turning around to sit on his thigh. As soon as you settle, one of his arms wraps around your waist, holding you in place. His other arm pulls your laptop closer so he can read the questions on the screen. You’re already squirming in his grasp, trying to move your hips against his thigh.

“I need you to stay still and listen to me, got it?”He tenses his thigh, putting pressure against your center.

“Y-yes.” You say, voice laced with need.

“Yes what? Don’t forget your manners.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll listen. Promise.”

“Good girl. This is how this is going to work. You’re going to lean over and type your answers to each question in this word doc you have open. For every question you answer, I’ll let you move your hips just a little bit more.” Carmy presses his lips right behind your ear, before biting down on the lobe. “You understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well then get started.” The idea of a reward gets your mind spinning. Your arms reach over to your laptop to begin typing. Carmen’s arm remains locked firmly around your waist. His mouth presses soft kisses against the back of your neck as you figure out the first answer.

“I finished the first one, s-sir.”

“Good job, sweet girl,” he praises into your ear. “You can start moving those hips for me, now. Nice and slow. Really slow.”

You grind your cunt into his thigh. The movement is slow, but it presses the seam of your pants right into your clit. “Fuck— Carm. Please—“

“Looks like you have…” he leans over your shoulder to look at the computer screen. “Three more questions left. Get back to typing.”

With every question you finish, Carmy guides your hips faster and faster. The kisses he plants on your neck grow to be rougher, nipping and sucking at the skin. You��re in the middle of typing in your as you feel your climax rapidly approach.

“C-Carmen I-I’m about to—“

In an instant Carmy’s arm stops the movement of your hips. “I didn’t say you could cum yet, did I?”

“No sir. You didn’t. I-I’m sorry.”

“Answer the question. You’ve been such a good girl so far, wouldn’t want you to slip up now so close to your reward.”

You type as fast as you possibly can. You don’t care if the answer is right anymore. It doesn’t matter. Once you finish it, you upload the document on your school’s software. “T-there. It’s submitted. I finished it.”

“There we go. I’m proud of you, baby. You got that done in record time despite the circumstances.” He laughs.

“Carmen. Sir— please.”

“What are you saying please for? Good girls use their words. You know that.”

“Need you, Carm. Need you so bad, please.”

“What do you need? Come on. You can tell me.” His mouth bites into the skin of your neck, right above your clavicle. The bruise will be visible for the next few days.

“Your fingers. Please! I need you to touch me.”

“That wasn’t so hard now was it?” Carmy unbuttons your pants, giving him enough room to slide his hand underneath your underwear. You gasp as his fingers make contact with your silt. “Holy shit— you’re soaked. Did I get you all worked up? Had no idea you needed me this bad. Poor baby. Where do you want me to touch you? You’ve been so good I’ll let you choose.”

“Please. Rub my clit. Need it—“ you don’t get a chance to finish your sentence before two of Carmy’s fingers begin to circle your swollen bud. He’s not gentle, knowing you’re already close. His other hand travels up your body to close around your neck. Carmen applied a gentle, but steady pressure to your neck, making you feel fuzzy.

He can feel you begin to completely relax in his arms. “Atta girl, that’s it. I’ve got you, baby, you can cum for me.”

A choked moan dies out in your throat as you tremble in his arms. Pleasure fogs up your head, coursing through your finger tips. You swear you black out for a moment, coming to with Carmy’s hand no longer around your neck. He’s whispering praises into your ear.

“God. Such a good girl. You were perfect, baby. Did everything I asked you.”

“Holy shit—“ you sigh. “Maybe I should get you help me with my homework every time.”

Carmen laughs at your statement. “I like the sound of that.”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto #carmy smut #brain rot

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 4 months

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Within cells, interlinked (Miguel O’Hara x Ai/Hologram! Fem! reader) Part 1

Hiii! Very excited about this bad boy, this is inspired by K and Joi’s relationship in bladerunner 2049, and this panel from 90’s run of the Spider-Man 2099 comics. Also there is some heavily implied (at the very least one sided) holofang (Miguel x Lyla) at the beginning, if that isn’t your cup of tea, then I’m sorry but that’s how I wrote it. Not proofread, enjoy!

(Y/N)-Your name.

Implied (one sided???) holofang, Lyla is like basically dead, mentions of sex work, cursing, Miguel being a sad lonely lonely man, ansty (if you squint), Miguel being a little mad scientist like at the end. Tbh idk really know what to tag these as.

Word count: 3k

Part 2

Masterlist

Playlist I listened to while writing

—

Neuva York 2099.

A dystopian wasteland that was once a pristine and other worldly city. But, like every other beautiful thing, it would be destined to fall, thanks to Kingpin, who now had the city under his thumb. Straile white buildings that once stood tall, crumpled and decayed, being replaced slowly but surely with dark titanium steel. Holographic projections filled the sides of ugly skyscrapers, advertising anything and everything, ranging from restaurants and video games to Ai women and cyborg upgrades.

Miguel’s original Ai assignment was unfortunately no longer functional, her software having been corrupted due to a virus that was released onto Miguel’s suit during a fight with Doc ock, Miguel having no other choice but to terminate her software, putting her out of her misery. It not only set Miguel back from his usual tasks as Spider-Man and his work at Alchemax, but the whole spider society, Lyla being the one who controlled the whole mainstream to the entire operation, along with help from Spider-Byte, but she couldn’t run the whole society technology wise, she had a life outside of her role there.

If Miguel had the time, he would have done what he had done the first time, and redesign her from scratch, raising her from her nonexistent grave. However, he knew he didn’t have the time. He had spent months programming her, not to mention the years it took for him to upgrade her into what she had become. It’s only been a week, and he could already see the cracks that were forming without her to hold it all together. His universe was already in disarray, he didn’t need another thing to crumble into dust in his hands.

The walk from the Alchemax back to his apartment was meant to help him clear his head, but it only dampened his mood more, bitter cold air and large dark clouds rolling in slowly, threatening to pour down on the decile city. Keeping his head held high and eyes forward despite his desire to go deep into a dark alleyway and swing the rest of the way home, keeping the tension in his temples build up with every sleazy salesperson attempting to sell him a sketchily low price for random gadgets that he was certain was stolen, or sex workers attempting to coax him into a small brothel. All kinds of lives walked past him as he ventured home, humans, cyborgs, full robots and AI holographic companions, a million life stories that could be told.

Less and less began to cross his path as he neared his apartment building, eye bags dark and sunken in as he turned his head to the left, he was now alone on the sidewalk, stopping as he put his hand on the railing that lined the evaluated walkway, he remembered not even 10 years ago, that very spot would look out to a beautiful pond, small ducks that pattered around, families gathering around to have little outings, ones that Miguel only ever really dreamed of. Now, all that was a ginormous digital billboard that would switch advertisers every week or so. Although he never really expected they’d project the one that was on display now. He had to squint a bit so that the now dripping rain didn’t get into his eyes as he watched the projection.

“The perfect companion, the perfect coworker, the perfect partner. Joi, your personal Ai. Everything you want to hear, everything you want to see.” The sentences rotated between each other over and over, Miguel stayed silent as he stared mindless at the naked back of the large Ai hologram, their skin admitting a light glow as she sensually ran her hands through her hair. Despite the words “companion” and “coworker” showing up on the ad, it was painfully obvious what the holographic woman was really meant for.

Still, he caught himself unable to look away, despite seeing the ads hundreds of times prior to this moment. He didn’t even register when the Ai had turned around and squatted in front him, making it so the two were at eye level.

“Hello handsome.” His eyes finally drifted up to meet hers once she spoke, he wasn't very fond of the default version they often used on most of their ads, so seeing this version in front of him was a lot more of a nicer sight to see. “What a day hmm?” When he didn’t respond she just came closer, “you look lonely… I could fix that…” She whispered with a head tilt, “you look like a good Joi…” before getting back up and moving away from Miguel once more.

Maybe it was the stress, maybe it was his way of pretending he wasn’t mourning an algorithm, maybe it was just him being tired of carrying everything on his shoulders, still… his eyes slowly went down to his orange watch, moving it in front of the bare glowing figure, before his free hand slowly hovered over the watch, hesitating for a moment, before pressing purchase.

—

Once Miguel got home he spent the next hour or so reworking your programming, jailbreaking and removing restrictions, wanting to make sure you were prepared to handle the society’s system before he even turned you on to make sure you wouldn’t crash the second you were hooked up to it.

Eventually, once everything ran to meet his expectations, he stood back and waited for you to appear in front of him. Waiting impatiently as he watched the small loading circle chase itself until you appeared, although you weren’t fully “awake” still, eyes closed, head slumped forwards and arms hung limply to your sides. Still needing to be given a name, an outfit and if he desired to change anything from your physical appearance he could. He decided to keep your assets the same, and placed a simple outfit on you, deciding if you ever evolved enough to be sentient on the same level as Lyla was, that he’d give you free range to change it. For a name though, it was a bit harder of a choice.

Maybe it was him having his previous one for as long as he did, but he wanted you to be… different, then her, a name that wasn’t, well, Lyla. Something nice and pleasant to say, but not simple enough for him to forget in the midst of him in a fight. After some pondering, he finally typed in the name into his watch and pressed the “finalized model”. Releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he saw your head slowly begin to lift and your eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Hello Miguel.” You said him a smile.

“Hello (Y/N).” His lips twitched upwards for half a second.

—

It took a while for your program to adjust and be accustomed to the database, he never realized how much strain he put on his older Ai until he watched you try and accommodate the same thing, yet then again, he built it all around her, instead of vise versa. It wasn’t just you who had needed some time to adjust though. The amount of times that spiders (including Jessica and Miguel) would call for Lyla still instead of you was starting to… annoy you for lack of a better term.

You had been patient at first, appearing despite the slip up, simply correcting the person who called for you and going on with the request, then it seems that the patience started to run thin. Rolling your eyes or letting out snarky little remarks, then eventually you just started to not respond unless they called you by your actual name, which only led you landing yourself in a lecture from Miguel, being threatened to reboot your system. Him ranting about how it could be dangerous or something, after the first few times, it stops being fear insulating, once you even let out a yawn at his usual lecture. A yawn. How close he was to throwing his desk across his office.

The longer you stuck around the more knowledge you gather, the more self-aware you become, mimicking human thoughts and emotions, reading anything you could get your digital little hands on. From the words of Ancient Greek philosophers to thousands of different articles on how the human brain works, what different areas controlled what. You found humans quite interesting, such complex yet flawed creatures, you can understand why so many filmmakers and authors who write science fiction have some odd variation of robots wanting to either become humans or destroy them.

It’s almost cliche, but you can’t help but develop the same fascination with Miguel. How could you not? You were quite literally around him 24/7, you could tell he wanted to be taken care of when he wasn’t taking care of everything himself, and who were you as his assistant to refuse?

—

“Welcome back Miguel.” You smiled as you appeared next to the door before he could even step foot through its threshold. Your eyes followed him as he took his shoes off and threw his keys on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, landing with a loud clunk.

“I just saw you back at HQ.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he closed the door behind him before he made his way to his kitchen, “It's been 20 minutes.” He added as he turned the corner, being met with you already there, leaning against the counter as his coffee machine was already pouring him a new cup in his favorite mug, with the stove being lit on for him to place his left overs onto to warm up.

“Being greeted when you arrive home helps boost your overall well-being.” You quipped, which only gained a small hum of acknowledgement as he placed a pot of bistec on top of the open flame, and a bowl of leftover white rice in the microwave.

“It could also help boost my overall well-being if you didn’t act like such a brat half the time.” He countered back as he stirred the streak and potatoes to make sure it didn’t burn before turning to face you, meeting you with that all too familiar smirk he always gave you. You were quick to mirror it. “You're supposed to make my life easier, ya know?” Despite it being a rhetorical question, your smirk only widely more.

A silence fell over the kitchen as he goes back to focusing on his food, you just stay there, watching as he made quick work fixing his plate, mumbled a small “sorry” to you everytime he would “bump into you” (as Miguel liked to call it) despite him only passing through your holographic body as he grabs the plate and cup of coffee and goes it set it down at the table, making sure to be fast as to not hold onto the gradually warming glass crockery long enough to burn his rough hands.

With a sigh, he sat down in front of his plate as he heard the faint noise of your projection deactivated from the kitchen, leaving him alone in the quiet home of his. He’s fork moving around the contains on his plate, piercing the potatoes and steak but never lifting it up to bite into the steaming meal. After a few more moments of playing with his food, he placed his fork back down, keeping his eyes down on his plate despite him lifting his head up.

“(Y/N).” He called out after cleaning his throat.

“Yes?” Your voice called back out, ringing through his apartment as he waited for you to reappear, only to let out a huff when you didn’t.

“…have dinner with me?” When he finally looked back up, he was met with you already in the chair across from him, a digital plate of food replicating his in front of you. His lips twitched up as he whispered a light thank you for entertaining his wish, even down to mimicking eating as you both sat there, his eyes never leaving yours.

After his appetite was satiated, and the dish were washed, he wander to his living room, being met with the sight of you already being sat down on one of the small leather accent chair that sat to the right of the coffee table, a small orange tablet-like screen being held in your hands as you tampered away on it, most likely readjusting tomorrow's schedule or researching more on some random topic you found interesting. Leaning against the doorway, he couldn't help but watch you, admire you. He found it humorous that you chose to physically sit down and read about topics even though you were built with the knowledge of practically everything. It made you feel more… real. It made him feel less insane when he found comfort in your company.

“Would you like me to leave you alone mig?” You asked after a second, eyes never leaving the screen in front of you. His heart stopped for half a second when you called him by the nickname as he shook his head.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” He asked as he made his way towards you, stopping once he was close enough that if you had a physical being, his legs would have been touching your knees. (What are you doing?)

“Just going over your suit diagnostics, I’ve noticed that it’s been lagging a bit.” You hummed, not even fazed by the close proximity.

“…(Y/N).”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.” He commanded, but his tone is still somewhat soft with the order, your screen evaporating from your hands as you went to meet his gaze. He hesitated for a moment, leaving his dry lips before finally continuing. “You know, I feel like I don’t appreciate you enough.”

“Miguel, I’m your Ai assistant, my whole purpose is to help make your life easier.” You couldn’t help the slight snark that came seeping through your sentence, causing him to let out a scoff and playful eye roll.

“That’s not what I mean, you know that.” He countered with a head tilt, his hands sliding over his thighs and finding their way into his front jean pockets.

“What do you mean then?”

“What do you think I meant?” Now it was you who let out an eye roll as you huffed.

“Miguel, you know I can’t ‘think’. I’m not human, I can simply process and collect information and recite it back. I speak only in facts and unbiased sources.”

He couldn’t help but hate it when you talked like that during casual conversation, despite the deadpan look in your eyes and the small sass in your infliction, it only reminded him that you weren’t real. The only difference from your body and air, was that you were a set of ones and zeros. He could swat a hand through your body and you would simply glitch around it as it interrupted your coding and it attempted to adjust around him, how for once, he wishes that when he would “bump into you” that he would be met with solid flesh, you stumbling back a bit while you scold him, his hand coming around to met the small of your back to help re-stabilize your footing as he lets out a small chuckle.

“Don’t be a smartass with me (Y/N). You know, most humans I know don’t have the ability to think either, and they for sure aren’t as nearly intelligent or knowledgeable as you are. If they can form an option then you can too.” He was met with your face contorting in confusion, a rare expression on your face, one he appreciated when he got the opportunity to witness it. “I want you to think, give me an original thought. Not a statistic, not a fact. Think for yourself (Y/N).” The was a pause before your lips parted.

“I… I think…”

“Thaaaat’s it…” He leaned forward, his face close to yours as he encouraged you to continue in a low whisper. “I think?”

“I think… that if I was a human, that… that I would be in love with you Miguel.”

Oh.

“(Y/N).”

“Yes Miguel?”

“Shut off.”

“Yes Miguel.”

Within a blink, you were gone. His hands came out from his pockets with a heavy sigh, before he rubbed his face and ran them through his hair, causing the semi-neatly slicked back hair to become desiveled. Glancing around the now empty living room, the small constant buzzing from your hologram now being replaced with the gentle tapping of the rain against his window.

Miguel O’Hara was truly a lonely man. A man with weaknesses and flaws despite himself, a man with feelings, and vulnerabilities and emotions. Miguel O’Hara was just a man, just a human. A human who wanted to be loved. To not be seen as some sort of emotionless being, the irony wasn’t lost on him that the only thing that seemed to really care for him, and see him in that way was something that wasn’t even programmed with actual emotions. Oh how he wished you were real, how you were human.

He couldn’t turn you into a human, but he could get close.

With a sigh he entered his home office, the only room he had restricted giving you access to appearing in. Closing the door behind him before leaning against the door, his eyes instantly finding themselves stuck on the limb on the table. An arm to be more specific, the synthetic flesh that matched your complexion wrapped around its exoskeleton. It took him almost a month to do just one arm, and although the time length of that he estimated for this project was a bit more lengthy then he’d like, if it meant getting every minuscule and minute detail perfected, he’ll take all the time in the world for it. He’d make sure it was perfect, that you’d be prefect.

—

Tags: @oscarissac2099

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #Miguel ohara x Ai reader #miguel fanfic #Miguel O’Hara #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099

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taskopad · 1 year

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#Workflow TiPs #MultiPle Project Management #Task Assignment Software #Work Management Software #Office Management Software

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wisteriagoesvroom · 3 months

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schools of thought: part 2 🦊

A landoscar college AU, told through social media

to catch up, check out part 1 here

author's notes

thank you for your patience and the kudos on part 1 🤧 irl stuff happened and i worked on a different story for a while before getting back to this one

ignore timestamps, they don't really matter

if you enjoy it, please consider liking / reblogging / commenting! 💙

—————we pick up at the federation U library———————

lando's studying late. it's a tuesday, and there aren't too many people there - just him, linda the librarian who isn't particularly impressed at anything or anyone, and a couple of other students on other islands of desks, stuck in their own world.

lando doesn't find academic work impossible per se, it's more the sustained attention that gets challenging. and contrary to how he seems, he does actually work hard at his core modules. even if he isn't sure exactly to what end, yet.

the screen's blazing bright and lagrange's theorem is starting to make his brain statick-y, so lando rubs his eyes. one of those advice pages on tiktok said changing tasks could help sometimes to refocus on his studying. something about crop rotation or switching channels of the brain or something. if it's on social media, it must be true.

so he opens his design software instead and makes a party invite.

he sends a prayer to the holy trinity of tiesto, guetta and darude for his very basic photoshop abilities. and an extra hail-van-helden for the free software that he pirated off charles.

the party playlist is already whirring in his head. definitely some garage smashed with some old school hip hop, and he's sure there's a way to get some hans zimmer piano in there. whatever, it'll work.

satisfied with his efforts, lando sips from his hydroflask. (the drink is one part instant coffee, one part spicy honey, and a lot of hot water. carlos gives him shit about it all the time, but carlos is spanish and generally prone to dramatics when it comes to coffee and just about everything else.)

still focused on his important task of Procrastinating His Stabilizer Equations, lando texts max.

linda, to her credit, only glared at him once when he started humming kid cudi under his breath.

and judging from experience, max and charles are going to be a while, so there's nothing for lando to do but stare at the wall and keep working on his playlists. oh, and his math assignments.

meanwhile, oscar gets a ping from logan.

what is there to say about the meeting really, oscar thinks. uneventful. ———————earlier——————————

the first project catch-up with lando, they'd met under the campus bee statue. a sunny afternoon, but the campus was quiet, half of them having decamped to the nearby hills or beach for a change of scenery. it was just the pleasant and tolerable buzz of other students enjoying the warmth and doing university student things. he'd spotted a couple of people with picnic blankets out. he hadn't brought a picnic blanket, thinking this would be a quick meeting.

lando had appeared in a blur of white and orange, like a y2k elf. ear piercing, music festival rubber bracelets and all. in a t-shirt that said i'm acute angle.

"'sup osc!" lando said.

"that t-shirt's gramatically incorrect. technically." oscar had replied.

"whaa-aat. but more to the point, it's funny."

"i guess. did you do the reading yet? thought it'd be good to talk roles and responsibilities and maybe a project timeline."

"timeline?" lando said, as he tossed his backpack down and flopped on the lawn. lando extracted two heinekens from a side pocket and went through a complicated manouvre of opening them with his room keys. "thought we'd maybe crack open a beer and just chat, matey."

i'm not your matey, oscar thought. i'm a passenger to whatever train of chaos it is that you're driving and i'd like to get off.

oscar's skin prickled as he realised the double meaning of get off. he also tried to not think too hard about how overfamiliar lando was acting towards him. the worse thing was: there was a bigger part of him that was probably willing to let lando get away with it.

lando seemed to be ignoring whatever existential crisis oscar was going through. instead, lando was going on and on about philosophical youtubers and sparknotes. lando was so animated when he spoke, too: hands always in gestures, as if excitement buzzed directly out of his fingertips and onto oscar. there was a sparkle in his eyes, blue sliding into grey, that made oscar want to sit on his hands. because they were the kind of eyes they wrote about in regency novels, the windows to the soul kind of melodramatic nonsense. that would make him want to do stupid shit. like, get-in-the-way-of-the-project-grade kind of stupid shit.

so it took oscar a lot of energy to focus in that first meeting. he thought he did a pretty decent job picking up the thread of conversation, around the part where lando had called foucault's theory "the indiana jones thought thingy."

"i think you mean archaeology of knowledge."

"right! right." lando said, as he beamed up at him.

oscar had suddenly felt overly warm, then. probably just the sun on the quad, he thought to himself. he was from australia, so technically he should've known better, and worn adequate SPF. he'd have to set a phone reminder for that at a later point. he refused to be fooled again by the european summer and its apparently hypnotic effects. even if those hypnotic effects were probably mostly caused by a menacing parallel phenomenon that oscar would call solarus landonitus.

—————————————————

later, oscar's cooks dinner, and tries to decipher the instructions on the back of a frozen bag of beef mince. pato and logan are away at a football game across the border in italy, an overnighter thing.

his phone vibrates. it's lando.

oscar's hands hover over the letter keys. a party? he couldn't think of anything worse. but lando said a couple of friends, and it's true oscar hasn't really partied, and he thinks hanging out with his D&D friends doesn't really count. there had been that one instance in first year when oscar had gone to try and meet logan and pato at the ministry of sound, and he'd accidentally ended up at the ministry of state government building. after that, he'd figured parties weren't really fated for him.

but. lando, social butterfly lando, campus personality lando is the one asking. and logan's right, oscar probably does take himself too seriously.

osc types and deletes at least four different responses before be replies. he is an eng lit major, he tells himself. surely he should be better at crafting his words than this. but sometimes it is what it is.

so it isn't a commitment, and it isn't a hard no, either.

oscar stares at his phone. it's gone quiet. lando's moved on – probably uploading an instagram story. or smashing his too keyboard loudly in a public space as he solves a polynomial. or making a new and unlikely EDM song out of radiator noises, or whatever it is that lando "i'm so cool" norris decides to do with his free time.

oscar is studying the dorm kitchen tiles, thinking about not thinking about lando, when his pasta water boils over. it hits the induction stove with a loud hiss.

"shit!" osc yelps. he grabs a nearby dish towel to wipe it up.

the pasta ends up both soggy and under salted, but he eats it anyway. mind turning all the while.

——————stay tuned part 3 (hint: party party)————————

p.s. if you want to be tagged/notified on the next part/updates just lmk in comments or DM and i'd be happy to!!

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zzzzzestforlife · 5 months

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Software Engineer Dairies: Sprint Kick-off 🏃‍♀️👩‍💻

Stand-up 🙌

I was actually social this morning 🦋☺️ (it was standard "how was everybody's weekend?" fare but it got me invited to book club which i'm really excited about because we're reading Howl's Moving Castle!! 📚)

I have to take over more work from a senior colleague who's behind with his own work, which is fine(?) since I know what to do and my help is being acknowledged by leadership at least and I finished all of my existing work already... Should I slow down on purpose so this doesn't keep happening? 😂

Retrospectives 👀

These meetings always feel like getting a bad grade (sometimes good, but more often bad) 🥺 I know it's important to evaluate and improve and that it's not just on me but the whole team... Everyone else seems to be in a good, relaxed mood and taking things in stride, though... so I'll try to take these less personally in the future, too!

Planning 📑

I led a technical planning meeting like a hot mess but done is better than perfect and I got what I needed and got the hell out 😂 Now I have lots of follow-up tasks to deal with~

My senior colleague (not the same one whose work I needed to takeover) led a different planning meeting for his project — I was just there for moral support 😅

I'm also leading our sprint ceremonies now which means I can't multitask during our meetings anymore 😛

Code 🖥️

My pet peeve at work is when people take forever to review my code, so I am always the most responsive peer-reviewer on the team and my colleagues have said many times that they appreciate it and have come to return the favor 😌

I managed to fix an high-priority bug in between all these meetings! 🐞 (I was then immediately assigned another high-priority bug, unfortunately 🙃)

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byeolgirl · 2 months

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I have to know how you stay motivated! I feel like I never have any energy and am constantly drained :( it makes it so hard to be productive and get things done

Hi girlie..ihope u ok I'm sorry that u feel like this :(.. it's ok cuz staying motivated can be challenging but focusing on small, achievable goals, maintaining a balanced lifestyle with proper sleep, nutrition, and exercise, and finding activities you enjoy can help boost your energy and motivation.

Being more productive and getting things done can take some effort and discipline, but it's possible to achieve. Here are some tips that may help you stay focused and motivated:

By:★ stᥲrgιrᥣ﹒

1. Break down tasks into smaller, manageable steps: Break larger assignments or projects into smaller, manageable steps. Start by listing the individual tasks that need to be done, and then break each task down into smaller, actionable steps.

2. Prioritize tasks: Prioritize your tasks based on their importance and urgency. This will help you stay focused on the most critical items and avoid wasting time on things that can wait.

3. Stay organized: Stay organized by keeping track of your tasks in a planner, to-do list, or project management software. This can help you stay on top of your workload and avoid missing deadlines.

4. Self care: Taking care of yourself is a key factor in building motivation and having the energy to achieve your goals. When you prioritize your physical and mental health, you are better equipped to handle stress, manage your time and energy, and make positive decisions that will help you in life. Taking care of yourself doesn't mean being perfect, it means being intentional about your choices and making time for activities that bring you joy, rest, and self-care. Self-care is a powerful tool for building motivation and finding balance in your life.

5. Celebrate your progress: Celebrating your progress can help motivate you to keep going. Praise yourself for completing tasks, and reward yourself for reaching milestones.

Remember, productivity is a habit that takes time to develop. Start by setting realistic goals and breaking your tasks into smaller, manageable steps. Stay organized, eliminate distractions, and celebrate your progress to stay focused and motivated and never forget to take care of yourself cuz no one will.With practice, you'll become more productive and get things done more easily.

#becoming that girl #glow up #wonyoungism #wonyoung #dream life #it girl #creator of my reality #divine feminine #it girl affirmations #love affirmations #productive #dream girl journey #stardiary

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izicodes · 1 year

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Fundamentals of Programming

Every time you learn a new programming language, you’ll come across topics you’ve seen before when you learnt other languages. All the same but different syntax and methods for that new programming language - what you're doing is learning the fundamentals of programming.

The fundamentals of programming refer to the basic concepts and principles that underpin all programming languages and software development. When programmers learn and become really good at these basic ideas, they can create more complicated computer programs and even come up with brand-new software ideas with confidence. Let's explore those basic concepts we need to understand as programmers~!

Variables

Variables are used to store data, such as numbers or strings of text.

Knowing how to manipulate variables can help to control the flow of the program.

Data types

Different types of data, such as integers, floating-point numbers, and strings, require different ways of handling and processing.

Knowing the correct data type to use can help to optimize the performance of the program.

Operators

Operators are used to performing arithmetical or logical operations on data, such as addition, subtraction, multiplication, and comparison. Other operators include assignment, bitwise, membership and identity.

Knowing how to use them correctly can help to ensure that the program produces the correct output.

Control structures

Control structures, such as loops and conditional statements, are used to control the flow of a program.

Understanding how to use them can help decide which parts of the code to execute or skip over, depending on specific conditions.

Functions

Functions are reusable blocks of code that perform a specific task.

Knowing how to create and use functions can help to make code more modular and easier to maintain.

Input and output

Programs often require input from users or other sources, and they need to produce output in a variety of formats.

Knowing how to handle input and output can help to make the program more interactive and user-friendly.

Debugging

Debugging involves identifying and fixing errors or bugs in the code.

Knowing how to use debugging tools and techniques can help to make the process easier and more efficient.

These concepts form the foundation of programming and are essential for understanding and using any programming language. You’re going to learn them somehow and eventually, it’s important to understand them fully so you can prevent making mistakes in your code in the future.

There’s no rush into learning these as well. Take as much time as you need, because getting these foundations down and set helps in the long run!

Thanks for reading!! Hope you learnt something new! 👏🏾💻💗

◀ previous programming post

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exeggcute · 27 days

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Can you please tell me what story points are I hear about them from tech dudes they sound so scary

oh yes lmao. let me answer this publicly so everyone can learn...

in software development there's a work allocation philosophy called agile that everyone either does or tries to do. some people just "do" agile and some people will tell you that agile is a vibe and you can only "do" subsets of it like scrum or kanban or whatever. many people use these terms interchangably and many places end up doing an unholy patchwork of various agile frameworks and hoping for the best.

(or they don't actually do agile at all but adopt agile tools and terminology anyway because that's the shit everyone knows how to use. Big Atlassian has us in their grip...)

in (some) agile work planning, each team divides their session into sprints, which is a fixed length of time for which you pre-determine what you'll be working on and any new tasks won't get picked up or really even looked at until the next sprints. from what I've seen these are usually two-ish weeks but can definitely be more or less. at the end of your sprint, you'll ideally be done with all of the work you were assigned and then get new things to work on for the next sprint.

each unit of work is broken into a story, which is supposed to be a whole anthropomorphized "user story" and not just a unit of work but I've never worked somewhere that adhered to this. sometimes people call them a ticket or an issue instead. it kinda depends on the tool you're using. right now we use a not-jira tool that calls them stories, so to us they're stories! but they're basically just bite-sized work assignments.

each story gets an estimate of how much effort you think it'll take to complete it. (not time, just effort. these are supposed to be different but no one has ever explained how in a way that's satisfied me.) those are your story points. so when you do your sprint planning every <x> weeks, you or your boss or your scrum master or whoever allocates work based on the point total of your stories. let's say that you're usually trying to hit 30-ish story points or so; you might pull in a 13, an 8, a 5, and four 1s for that sprint based on which stories are outstanding. but the next sprint might be two 8s, a 5, three 3s, and a 2.

also I love (and am mystified by??) how these tech dudes are apparently just coming to you to complain about their sprint planning all the time. but I understand. it's rough out here.

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coming-lieutenant · 10 months

Text

Error

Summary: A short account of how Nines deviated.

A/N: My first Nines fic! Hopefully I did a good enough job at writing him in character :’]

Ruthless. Unwavering. Invulnerable. These were things RK900 was designed to be. He was designed to complete a job, and a lot of money was poured into making sure there was no room for error in his programming when it came to doing said job.

A lot of money poured into making sure he wasn’t like him. His predecessor. The ever present thorn in his side.

The weight of the pressure was unbearable, a prototype designed and produced to replace a faulty prototype. Not that he felt it, though. He didn’t feel.

Which was why he found himself having to run constant diagnostics as of late. His systems were going haywire. “Hot under the collar,” was never a phrase he understood, and definitely not something expected to experience himself. Yet here he was, hotter than hell under the collar. And everywhere else. To the point, in fact, that he had to, on top of his diagnostics (which were coming back normal somehow), constantly adjust his clothing. He was about a day away from making a trip to Cyberlife Tower for them to check for malfunctions in his hardware when a piece of information revealed itself to him, an unraveling pattern: these symptoms only occurring on days during which he encountered you.

So the solution was obvious, and refreshingly simple, like finally receiving a glass of water on a hot summer day… Or so he assumed. All he had to do was stop encountering you. At least, he had thought it would be that simple.

He was moderately prepared for seeing you against his will. After all, you did work for the same department he was currently positioned at. Every brief encounter was accompanied by the same symptoms, the heat, the warnings flashing in his visual field, the looping and breaking thought patterns. As long as he kept his distance and kept the encounters short, he was able to mitigate these symptoms. What he was not prepared for in the slightest was being assigned to a case alongside you.

Once again, his systems felt less than fully operational. At simply the proposition of this task, his processing unit was going a mile a minute. This was simply not logical. You were not a lieutenant, you were not even a deputy. You were still in the academy! There was no reason he should be on a case alone with you. If you were to be on a case, it should have been with Lieutenant Anderson. This was simply not logical! The line repeated in his mind like a bug, a virus. You were infecting his software.

Fowler’s instructions were simple: follow her orders, so as to allow her to learn, but do not allow her to get hurt. For a military grade android equipped with deadly weapons, this task should be simple. This was your first mission without Lieutenant Anderson. He would be there to oversee the process and make sure the mission doesn’t go awry to provide you experience without a Lieutenant looking over your shoulder, to make sure you were ready for the field. This thought, however, made him feel like he had butterflies— no, cicadas— clamoring around in his plastic and metal chassis. He ran a hand through his hair, pausing midway through in his confusion. He smoothed his hair back into place, unable to place what these physical reactions were, or how they were happening.

💙

The mission itself was unbearable. The two of you were tracking down a missing android, of course. The same monotonous task the DPD had been plaguing its workers with for nearly 6 months at this point. The case didn’t seem particularly dangerous; the murder it had committed only involved blunt-force trauma, so potentially accidental. Nines considered it immensely helpful that the case was so lack luster, at least it gave him more mental space to deal with the aggravations that came along with being around you. The uncomfortable reality was that he still wasn’t sure how this was happening, and yet… He no longer considered going to Cyberlife about it an option, instead opting for a more secretive route. Although he’d never admit it to himself, he didn’t entirely want these feelings to go away. The symptoms were annoying, sure. Overheating was… Less than optimal. But there was something else that accompanied these feelings. Like an instinctive feeling, which was exhilarating for him. Something that existed outside of the zeroes and ones, outside of mechanics and the software. It was small, and it was technically a bug, a glitch, but it was real. He didn’t want Cyberlife to take that away.

As RK900, or “Nines” as you insist upon calling him, accompanied you around this seemingly abandoned house, you busied yourself with asking him trivial, meaningless questions. And he was desperate for you to keep asking them.

“Why did they give Connor a name and not you?”

“RK800 deviated because they allowed him to tread too far into human territory. I suppose they did not want to take the risk with me.”

His non-existent stomach did a flip as he watched your eyebrows furrow in response.

“But you’re sentient. You can think. You’re self aware. That’s mean for them to give Connor a name and not you.”

“It has never made a difference to me, I assure you.”

“I’ll call you Nines for now. But I intend to give you a real name, okay?”

RK900 felt hot again, even more so than before. His face felt hot. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“If that is what you want. I will allow you to call me whatever you choose.” He wasn’t sure why this was the case, but he knew it was. He would do anything she asked of him. Anything. And he had not a single clue as to why.

As the two of you made your way up the stairs, Nines kept a hand on his holster, ready for anything that could be in store. Just as he suspected, there was a loud clamor from one of the rooms as the two of you reached the top of the stairs. Just as he takes his gun out of its holster, you speak.

“Stay here, Nines! I mean it!”

He wasn’t sure what your aim here was. Strategically, this decision was the least sound. If he were to get hurt, Cyberlife could either repair him or send a replacement. If you got hurt…

Fowler’s instructions echoed in his mind. Follow her orders, don’t allow her to get hurt. In this instance, the set of instructions was contradictory. He also had a secondary set of instructions: yours, telling him to stay put. His brain was rapidly running reconstructions, none of them ending well. As took a step forward, something in his coding stopped him. He heard another loud clamor from the room you had disappeared into, sending his systems into a frenzy. He fought against his coding, ignoring every single warning and reminder his mechanical brain was firing at him. Suddenly, he was able to step forward, running into the room you were in, gun drawn and aimed.

He didn’t hesitate, he didn’t have time to. He saw the deviant, and fired with lethal precision. As the deviant fell to the floor, he turned to you. You lay on the floor, blood oozing from a gash on your forehead. Seeing a broken wooden beam on the floor next to you, he quickly reconstructs the scene. The deviant was trying to escape as you entered the room. He must have been hiding when the two of you were coming up the stairs, and whatever was containing him broke. As you entered the room, he tried to throw the beam at you as a diversion. RK900– Nines— had arrived just in time to catch him just in time, before he was able to make it out the window.

Nines kneels down next to you, feeling yet another new emotion: panic. As he examines your wound, he exhales in exasperation. “Why would you do that?! Why would you not send me in first?! You are not replaceable, I am!” You look at him, slightly dizzy as your head pounds. Your voice comes our groggily. “No, you’re not. They could send a new model, but it wouldn’t be you.” Anger flares in Nines as he looks down at you. “This was ridiculous. If all he had was a piece of wood, it would have done nothing to me. Nothing!” You smile, groggily. “We didn’t know what he would have. Plus, you would have killed him. I was trying to get him out of here alive. Now can you help me up?”

Nines sighs again as he helps you up. “This was idiotic, detective.” You laugh, feeling yourself being practically dragged off the floor. “I’m going to make it. Looks like he’s not, though.” Nines says nothing, walking close behind you to ensure your stability as you exit the scene. He continues to say nothing. In the car, at the station, not a word.

As you gather your things, preparing to go home, you wander over to Nines’ desk, standing next to him as you smile down at him. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were scared back there,” you tease, smirking at him. Nines doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes stubbornly locked on the screen in front of him. “You’d be wrong, detective. I do not feel anything, as I am not programmed to.” As the words leave his lips, you both know that it’s a lie. But you don’t say anything. And neither does he.

As you leave the bull pen, RK900 clenches his fists. A military grade android, a weapon, programmed to never, EVER feel anything remotely similar to emotion, afraid. Going against his coding. There was only one thing that could mean: he had become what he was built to destroy. He had become like him.

#rk900 x reader #nines x reader #nines dbh #dbh rk900 #nines rk900 #rk900

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