“sex is what makes us human” is stupid. almost every species fucks. humans, however, are the only species who invented operating system kernels. in this essay, i will-
Rough outline of an epilogue snippet for the Connor x Reader (x Sixty?) fic. ...Which won't even be done until mid-late 2026, so consider it a very sneak peek 🤷
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INT. DPD STATION - DAY
APRIL 2042
You're sitting in Connor's chair with your feet up on his desk. Connor stands next to you and shuffles through several exhibits and files. Occasionally, he leans over you, cutting through your personal space, to access his terminal. There's room for him to just step around, but he's making a point. You chose to sit in his chair just to try and fluster him, so he's treating you (playfully) like the obstacle you've chosen to be.
The neighboring desk is unclaimed; Hank has since moved to the captain's office. Sixty stands beside the empty desk holding a vest in his hands, carefully sewing a tear shut. It isn't his vest, he's already wearing his own - labeled SWAT along the front and back - but he's taking the time to repair your vest in between tasks.
YOU: "So, guys, I've been thinking. It's been a while since our last Bad Movie Night, and I've been hearing terrible reviews about that new horror movie..."
SIXTY: "I'm in. How's Friday at 6:30?"
CONNOR: "I thought we had plans Friday."
YOU: "No one likes a sore pre-loser, Connor." (A beat.) "Kidding. Yeah, we can do both. And who knows? Maybe you'll win for once and finally get to pick the prize."
SIXTY: "Or maybe he's been letting you win because you're always so happy when you do." (Implying that Sixty has been doing the same, but refusing to admit it.) "You should be careful what you wish for."
YOU: "Orrr, maybe I'm just better at predicting movie lines, so bring it on..."
Cut, suddenly, to a witness walking past, following behind an officer. You recognize her model. She's an RT600, a Chloe, dressed as revealingly as it gets. Connor looks in her direction; his actions have slowed. His gaze lingers too long for your comfort.
YOU: "Pretty, isn't she?"
CONNOR (absently): "Sure, yeah. Pretty."
SIXTY: "Is that so, Connor?"
CONNOR: "What?--Oh. Not like that! I didn't mean..."
But you're clearly a little distressed, even though you try not to show it. Sixty makes eye contact with you, a silent offer. You nod. Immediately, he lunges forward and seizes Connor's wrist, revealing android skin around his hand; a memory probe. Stillness for a second. Then Sixty's jaw drops, his LED glows red, his cheeks burn blue.
SIXTY: "THAT'S DISGUSTING!"
Connor pulls his arm away. You prepare for the worst. Sixty quickly clarifies.
SIXTY (horrified): "He was barely thinking about her at all. But he was thinking about you." (Turning to Connor): "You were designed to serve humans, not put them in handcuffs and--"
Connor clamps a hand over Sixty's mouth, the light catches on a ring around his finger. Then, he smiles innocently at you.
Writer culture is updating your WIP after months and saying 'wow I'll never leave it that long again' only to continue the vicious cycle of delayed uploads.
Gaming currency commission to celebrate a year of me cringeposting (while still not actually porting my fic to this blog) (I'll get around to it eventually)
Idk posting this here because I need to tell an adult but like, anonymously
The past 16 days have been 16 hours of work per day, because I would rather skip sleep/socializing/hobbies than miss a deadline, which made me The Associate You Can Trust With Important Deadlines, which turns out to be a very dangerous title to have lol.
I genuinely find the work fun and fulfilling, so as long as I don't stop, it's easy to ignore my brain saying "we are stressed and exhausted btw" and my body saying "hey maybe sleep a safe amount please" - on an unrelated note, my firm buys those $4 canned espressos in bulk and I have learned there is no limit on the number I'm allowed to take home
But somehow today one of the attorneys asked me "No, seriously, are you really okay?" and I just ?? lost it ?? Could not stop crying, they sent me home and said to take the night off, I continued to cry for like 2 hours.
For some reason all I can think is, "I HAVE to inflict this on a character next time I write."
Ever write about a character doing something cute & then spend the rest of the day just endeared by the cute thing you imagined them doing? because same
make sure to follow your favourite fanfiction authors on tumblr to get such important updates as, "i'm Thinking about the fic really hard, i swear" "hashtag #notwriting" "im going to commit mass murder if i have to write" "theoretically if the next chapter came out in five months--"
...Okay so I wrote "being stuck in a small room for 12 hours surrounded by enemies while obligated to do intense technical work nonstop, a lot of consequences for getting anything wrong, and some confusing moral feelings even if you succeed" as a fairly traumatic event for a character, months ago, and wouldn't you know it