ANALOG_INTERFACE. @rootcaused - Tumblr Blog

axisii·:

it’s a rich life. expensive wine, even pricier whiskey - then they scurry behind the scenes for any whiff of off-shore bank accounts and underhanded deals. (the skeletons in each of the mary-clones’ and their husbands’ closets are practically screaming, and they’re just one big neighbourhood barbecue fight away from details. for shaw, it’s a scrawled number on the back of a business card of a couple high-end escorts and a particular money trail that makes for nice bedtime reading. and for root, it’s more of a let’s-not-ask-about-the-blood-on-my-lou-boutins. as far as she’s concerned, they’re all more than capable of being target or victim.)

“yeah, well. no-one ever said i was any good at undercover.” masking is hard. pretending to care is goddamn exhausting when all eyes are on her, and a hand slipped in root’s pocket, or fingers entwined at the start of every great suburban morning feels too intimate.

“you shoulda done this with john.”

“you’re good at undercover - you’re just not good at waiting. that is one thing the big lug has on you, y’know. at least he’s patient when he wants to be.”

one thing root loves about sameen shaw is her need to be dynamic; sure, she can wait it out in a snipers nest when necessary, but even that is tempered with gogogo behaviour. it’s seeking out targets and checking her exits and watching, not so much standing still as lying in wait. this is not that. playing suburban wealth is not aggressive and it’s not a go get ‘em number and so root understands why shaw might be bored.

and at least the apathetic look on her face can be sold off as francesca’s apathy towards grace. the housewives ask too-intimate questions, they pry with a clunky, poorly hidden fascination that allows root to tell them something mundane and have it be scandalous. they believe and are grateful for the fact that hey, gays have marriage problems too - which makes them all the more willing to admit their own issues. ask not what micro-aggressive homophobia does to you, but what it can do for you.

root bites off an olive from a cocktail stick and cocks her head.

“you’re way cuter, though.”

#axisii

paddington-two

find your age on your spotify top 100 and tell me what song is there. mine is bedroom hymns by florence + the machine

#the mother we share #hmm

axisii·:

@rootcaused.

grace and francesca gellar live beyond their means. or at least beyond root and sha.w’s. finch provides them with enough for them to get going, and there’s an old dusty medical license in the back of sha.w’s desk that works just about well enough for the machine to copy. but the real tragedy with suburban lesbians is that despite trying their absolute hardest, bed death is a real phenomenon and there’s a sure-fire truth that one of them is cheating on the other. get in with the one-percenters and take them down from the inside out. new number. new problem.

it goes as well as expected. root is root, inside and out, and though she puts on the southern twang that irritates the mere shell of shaw’s ears, root bleeds through the character and every last thing that could be wrong simply is.

“you know, you could have my back out there sometimes.” they’re playing their parts, like stalwart pawns in whatever game the machine wants to see play out, but mary-jane and mary-leigh and mary-lynn keep staring daggers through their rosé and over the marble countertops.

root despises every single one of these people. they’re the parents of the girls who bullied samantha groves until her only outlet was a sad little dead girl and the oregon trail. (a small part of her still yearns for that simplicity; the quiet of a library, the tip tap of dorky 80s computer games, the single minded pursuit of justice that bled into something... a little more lucrative. that led to sameen.)

“i’ve got your back, your front, your left and right sides, darlin’ -- i’m doing my best. you’re the one scowling in every direction.”

#axisii

axisii·:

root hits out with something entirely inappropriate, and it feels… normal. flirting immediately after suggesting to shoot herself in the head. that’s so fucking normal for them that it almost makes her spiral. (she shrugs her jacket over one shoulder, and glares at the waitress as they pass.)

“did you ask or did she assume?” honeymoon suite. it’s kind of something shaw wouldn’t have even thought of unless root had been squawking in her ear about the two of them being right for each other. (they aren’t, for what it’s worth. gasoline and a lit match. always two inches away from exploding.)

the suite is big. quiet. clean. the jacket’s shrugged onto the side of the bed and shaw drops onto the edge of it. (her eyes are heavy. the pulse in the back of her head’s beginning to sting along the hem of her hairline, and there’s one deep breath that pierces the silence.)

“you got a plan for fixing all this?”

root says the right things and charms the right people and picks up the right duffel bag on their way through the city to the hotel. it’s a flashy place, big bucks sort of place, and root knows there is a ceo currently getting auto-asphyxiated in a suite below their honeymoon penthouse. nice going she whispers under her breath to the machine when they open up the ornate oak doors into one of the most lavish digs root has ever seen.

(personally, she prefers the little places. the small cubby hole hotels with decent wifi and staff who don’t ask questions or look too hard at anything.)

“i have a plan for some of it. most of it. i’ve been looking for you for so long that i’ve had a lot of time to consider my options.”

#axisii

kingsmemes

In honor of SPOTIFY WRAPPED, send me a number 1-100 and I’ll write you a starter based on the song.

asleepinawell

#CTTP://RELATIONSHIP_SHAW.EXE

axisii·:

language is information. and information is everything. / @rootcaused.

three dots and a dash. a twist of the hand. two fingers and a thumb crooked away from each other. german, belgian, farsi, french — she’s grown into it, mostly. work takes her half way across the globe and the machine whispers sweet goddamn nothings in her ear. 004-702-9943. next number.

root bleeds from the left ear and leaves three nailbeds exposed and splintered. control did a real number on her.

<i can still talk to you.>. it’s not to say that she wants to, but she signs it all the same. as much as she doesn’t want it, or as much as root thinks she’s above it, she’s a part of this team now. what are teammates for if you can’t talk to them? there’s no hint of a smile, but a sense of familiarity between the two as shaw tucks her hands back into her pockets and shrugs. no sound, but they’re not without their ways. (languages come easy enough to her. what’s one more in the arsenal for a rainy day?)

it takes a moment to adjust. to stop listening and start watching; it’s a stop gap really and root is used to switching train cars at a moments notice. shaw is the only one to notice how much things have changed and the new difficulties root has to navigate. the machine does her best to accommodate the change but there is an adjustment period for everything in life. and finch just sits, magnanimous in his little pimp chair, and says you should be recovering miss groves.

<i need the practice.> and root doesn’t need to practice anything. what comes next usually comes naturally.

#axisii

axisii·:

she was expecting something more straight forward. i threatened to burn you with an iron and you told me you were into that. but it’s an answer all the same, and something that she didn’t realise she was truly waiting for. veronica sinclair feels like a few lifetimes ago, and the unmistakeable sting of a taser taps through her with each knock of root’s finger.

“you say the sweetest things.” it drags a memory to the forefront of her mind, and shaw shakes off the touch to finish what’s left of the fries. (the reality is that she has nowhere to go. days of scurrying in and out of the shadows in a hoodie and a baseball cap, and staring through the streetlights until it’s bright enough to hide in plain sight have left her with little choice. stay alive, pick the right shadows, start again. it leaves her with the shattered remains of what’s lost over the past year, and the goddamn memory that root was right.)

okay. game plan. if this is real, then it’s not going to come round again until samaritan’s on their heels. she reaches back to the jacket framing her chair and pulls it forward.

“you got a safe house?”

“i’m so glad you asked. she’s got us one better. honeymoon suite at the park ave, and a change of clothes already to go for you in the bathroom. the steak is on me - and maybe later, if you play your cards, you can be too.”

root throws a wink her way and slides out of the booth, gun safely tucked in her waistband and a hand extended out. she wiggles her fingers in a childish way that used to make sameen roll her eyes and smirk when she thought root couldn’t see. she doesn’t think that’s going to happen right now, but it’d be nice to see a sliver of the woman she loves.

“come on, baby, let’s blow this joint.”

#axisii

axisii·:

“— what’d we do when we first met?” she passed the first test. root is too carnally avoidant of any kind of meat for her to sink her teeth into the steak, but fries, or any kind of milkshake, seem to be fair game when it comes to root’s computer-hacker diet and it’s been sleepless nights and happy stake-outs that remind her that root can barely keep herself alive if it wasn’t for hard candy and pb&j.

they’ve played this game time and time again. zipties and a hood. ten hours to kill. three minutes and veronica sinclair tapping on the tub. a hot iron and rohypnol. god, they have fun, don’t they?

samaritan creates a backstory for them each time in the hopes that it’ll hit some stroke of realisation. but samaritan can’t know what goes on when the cameras are turned away - by its design, reaching into shaw’s brain and plucking out the locked-away memories is nothing more than an attempt to defy its own god.

“you should know by now that i don’t let you do that.”

what’d you do when we first met.

what a whirlwind of a question; a whirlwind of a day. root sends a long, wistful look shaw’s way, lost for a moment in the dreamy world of yesteryear, of a hotel room and a safehouse and the cat and mouse months of chasing one another. the meticulous planning it took to get finch to just pay attention for once.

whatever is going on in sameen’s head requires careful treading - she has to nail this answer or it will likely be the last time she ever sees her.

“oh, sweetie. sundown. ottawa. left-right, left-right.” root dares to reach out for sameen’s hand. taps her fingertips with one of roots own: “one two three.”

#axisii

axisii·:

“i got your favourite.” steak. bloody. root hasn’t touched anything living for as long as she’s known her, but samaritan picks up on the cues that shaw’s spelled out within each simulation. it’s a test more than anything. she’s pretty sure root’d vomit before chowing down.

“you not gonna let me eat a goddamn steak without reminding me? - ‘cause that’s heartless. even for you guys. i’m wasting away out here.” a hand touches over the collar of her jacket and she tugs, tightly, pulls it across her body and reaches back for the fork again. (the arm’s a dead thing attached with pretty amateur stitching - guess that’s why you get people to stay still before trying to fuse them with titanium. it’s heavy, and it hasn’t quite figured its way around a steak knife yet.)

“you know i’m not gonna give you anything. and you can’t use her.”

as much as root always loves the raw animalistic way sameen rips into food - meat or not - the mere thought of the texture of it, the sinew and fat and grease, makes her stomach roil; she gags a little and has to look away to stop the swell of nausea.

“it has taken a little while for me to figure this out - what’s going on with you. and realistically, it’s embarrassing, so apologies for me taking my sweet time catching up.” root steals another fry, one as far from the blood juice, and picks it apart with her fingertips. “you think i’m not real. that i’m a hallucination -- and baby, let me tell you. i get it.”

(it’s been months of the same; of her smug, too-perfect face in the corner of the room and the corner of her eye and sometimes quite plainly right in front of her. the machine talked in sameen’s voice until she got sick from hearing it too much.)

“and if this is true - if i am a simulation or a hallucination, or whatever you’re imagining - then it won’t matter if i blow my brains out. and now i’m all for making a point... but i’d rather not pulp fiction myself right here and now.”

#axisii

axisii:

root talks, but shaw watches. nine months and the glare of a white light staring back at her later, and the flicker of the streetlights are enough to keep her guard up. (the gun slides out of her grip before she can snap a hand down to reach for it, but it doesn’t matter. there’s a subway cart and a few too many drivers on the street for it to be a normal new york evening. the air’s fresh, but pollution rings in her nose and — god, even she’ll admit, the detail this time is pretty well thought-out.)

“and i wanna eat my food and let them know they’ve failed before they even got close this time. i’m so goddamn hungry.” she can’t remember the last decent meal she’d got. three blocks before a gutshot and a couple hours before waking up attached to a drip, probably.

“you want some?” a fork stabs into the steak and she offers it out.

“you're hungry because you've been kept in stasis for months. You're hungry because you've been running street to street and burning insane levels of calories. you're hungry because you aren't sleeping and you're bleeding.”

root nudges her with a foot under the table.

“i’ve got a plan if you care to hear it. and don’t worry, baby, she’s got it all covered. honeymoon suite at the plaza and a hot date with room service.”

#axisii

axisii·:

she resists the urge to snap back for the fry - this is root. root, who’s never paid for so much as a sandwich, and shaw’s grown used to ordering double to account for it. (two sets of fries, because while root will preen and pick at the potato, shaw’s more than thankful for an extra few loose ones in the bottom of the bag.)

“let’s cut to the chase then. what is it you want? - ‘cause i’m not going back.”

back, like it hangs a thread between them of acknowledgement. the subway’s far enough away that the machine’s safe. for now. and another simulation hangs in the thread of the loaded gun in her pocket and twenty minutes before she falls to the concrete outside the diner. (her stomach growls for long enough to sit her down and force a slab of steak down her throat, but she’ll wake with the same haze and the same adulterated grip on reality that’s become the norm.)

“you’re a pretty piss poor imitation.”

“that’s flattering to hear - honey, i didn’t know you were paying so much attention.”

that’s a lie and pretty thin one; root knows shaw watches her. from time to time. root feels a pair of eyes on her, on the small of her back, on the gun in her waistband, on the soft sway of her shoulders and hair as she flips it on purpose to look over at sameen from across the subway base. the machine tells her to be careful. people are starting to pay attention. yes. better wrap this up. remove the weapon. root swipes the gun from the diner booth table, secures it under her leg.

“i want you to be more careful. i want you to pull back and be discrete and stop letting people see you sameen. otherwise, you’re not going to stay free for very long. you need a shower. and some sleep. and i need to look at that louis vuitton level arm of yours.”

#axisii

axisii·:

she’s seen this play out time and time again - over three thousand, for that matter. samaritan knows the first place she’ll go to is root. it’s why she has to be careful about it. there are dark shadows lining the underside of her eyes and gaunt cheekbones that cut through each stream of sinew and gristle that gets strung between her teeth.

root comes in, all guns blazing, asks her about the machine, keeps her thinking that this is the right thing to do. she’s always been a thorn in her side, but a worm in her ear is new. (she lifts the pad of her finger to the back of her ear — a jagged cut still weeps into her hairline. that happened. okay.)

“it doesn’t matter.” none of it matters - the waitress on the verge of tears, the old couple standing by with the same worried harold, call the police stare that she’s become used to — it’s not real.

“leave, root. i mean it.”

“no, sameen. even if i wanted to - which i don’t and you’ve never been able to make me do something i didn’t want to, pretty though you are - she won’t be pleased if i do. we’ve been looking for you for a long time. and now i’ve got you, i’m not letting you go.”

root steals a fry at her own peril.

“and besides, you’re getting sloppy. drawing attention.”

the baby has a remarkably dark sense of humour. they only seem to laugh when i stub my damn toe on the crib at 4 in the morning.

it's extremely odd; watching sameen shaw - a knife of a woman, an m16 grenade launcher of a person - with a baby. the baby in question isn't really a baby, she's a toddler and fully capable of walking around, most times with a snack in one hand and some kind of toy or teddy in the other. she's cute - if you're into that sort of thing. blonde little curls and wide, half-tooth smile that comes out at almost anything, but the things she seems to find funniest is, as sameen has pointed out, pretty dark. stubbing toes and bear growling at strangers and harold spilling coffee all over his hand this morning. admittedly that was hilarious.

"aww. you know if she spends any more time with you, she's going to start frowning like you too."

#axisii

axisii

i’m only in it for the dog.

axisii:

@rootcaused.

one arm’s tucked under her jacket, and the other uses a blunted fork to stab at the hunk of beef bleeding into its side of fries. salt spills onto the counter. (the waitress looks scared — two dark eyes and a blood-letted pallor glare from across the room, and shaw rips a corner of meat off with her teeth. the simulation will reset. fear’s a manufactured response, like the chewed gristle sticking between her molars and the glower of headlights through the diner’s window.)

she’s joined, shortly after, by two heeled boots and a leather jacket that feels so close, yet so reservedly far from what she remembers. hey sweetie. simulation six thousand, seven hundred and forty three.

“you need to leave.” she talks through a mouthful of cow, stabbing a stack of fries into her mouth and tensing for the inevitable aftershock. hey sweetie.

“and you need a shower.”

there is nothing in this world that could tear her eyes away from the one face she’s been desperate to see for almost a year; not even the skeptical look on the waitress’s face when root flashed a badge - fbi agent augusta king in full swagger. it’s powerful thing, the implication of being in control. i got this the badge says to everyone and the worried glances, the bitten fingernails, all disappear. it’s all someone else’s problem now.

“you smell like low tide. and i’m saying that because i care.”

#axisii

soulrph

𝙁𝙄𝙍𝙎𝙏-𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙎 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙏𝙎 (𝙋𝙏. 1)

as requested by a powerfully patient and endlessly lovely nonnie!! there will be more lists like this, because frankly, parenthood is a whole theme park of roller coasters with unique challenges and milestones in each of them! but these are for parents who have recently become parents to a newborn! i also have requests for prompts based on foster families and adopted children, but i'd like to do my own research before i dive too deeply into those, because obviously the rules vary from country to country, but i digress! i sincerely hope you all enjoy these! unclench your jaw, drink some water, roll back your shoulders! DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST PLEASE!!

" if you waken that baby, so help me god, there won't be a corner of the universe that will protect you from my wrath. "

" do you wanna hold him/her/them? here, it's okay! just support the neck like... yeah, there you go! you got it! "

" no, no, it's okay, i'm not going anywhere. the baby spit up on everything i own except this sparkly little number, so i'm waiting for the washing cycle to end until i can change out of this! come on in. "

" i don't think i've had a full night's sleep since the baby came along. "

" i'm gonna train this kid, night and day, until they say my name before yours. that's my goal. my name is gonna be their first word. "

" i love my baby. more than i ever dreamed possible! but they've kept me awake since the second they were born! i seriously need a nap... could you keep an eye on them until i wake up? just twenty minutes, i promise you! "

" it kinda feels like every single person in the world suddenly has a PhD in parenting to make me feel incompetent with. "

" i think our sweet angel's gonna be a rock star with that set of lungs! "

" we need a new babysitter. preferably one who won't read rosemary's baby to our newborn. "

" god, they're so precious when they're asleep... can you believe we're that kid's parents?! "

" how can something so tiny go through a billion diapers every single day?! "

" they smiled at me today! actually smiled, i swear! that baby is a genius! and no, it wasn't trapped gas, before you say it. "

" that darling child ripped a fistful of my hair out today, so if you see a bald spot, now you know why it's there. "

" shh... shh, honey, it's okay. the baby woke up, but i'm handling it. you just go back to sleep now, okay? "

" i was thinking... if, for whatever reason, i'm not able to take care of the baby, i was wondering if you might be okay with being their legal guardian? "

" so pre-schools aren't only super competitive, they've also got some insanely high standards now, too! one of them won't even let me bring my car in unless it's completely emission-free! "

" the baby has a remarkably dark sense of humour. they only seem to laugh when i stub my damn toe on the crib at 4 in the morning. "

" we had a somewhat violent reaction at the diaper station this morning. so that meant i had to bathe and change the little cherub twice in ten minutes, and then go take another shower and find new clothes unscathed by infant vandals again. "

" he/she/they have your eyes. and your batshit insane sleep schedule. "

" you know what really pisses me off? when people act as though new parents have it easy. like a newborn is the easiest thing in the world to handle. i'd like to see them make coffee, change a diaper and fold a onesie one-handed! "

" isn't it so crazy that this tiny little human, who can't even hold their own head up yet, might be like, a president or something one day? "

" i'm really sorry, i know we had plans tonight, but i literally just got the baby to sleep and all i wanna do is lie down and eat the leftovers of a bag of potato chips until i fall asleep. i haven't showered all week, i can't remember the last time i wore clean clothes, and... it's just not gonna work out tonight. "

" i figured you wouldn't have much time to cook, what with the baby and all. so i decided i'd bring a lasagna and some groceries over to you, and i can keep an eye on the little one while you take a nice hot shower and eat your dinner in peace! "

" hey... relax. i promise you, the babysitter can handle it for a few hours! and if they need you, they've got your phone number, right? so just... take a night off. sit back. enjoy yourself. the baby is fine, i promise you! "

" you know, if you guys wanted a date night, i could mind the baby for you? "

" i swear, this baby is the freaking jackpot of excuses to not attend all those events! all the times i wanted to throw sharon's awful hummus at her face during those dinner parties, and now i don't even have to go anymore, all because of this beautiful, wonderful little baby! "

" i mean, sure, sometimes i'm crying 24/7 and i don't know what the hell i'm doing! but then i'll tickle the baby's little foot and they'll laugh for thirty minutes, and it just makes me so insanely, immeasurably happy! "

" what do you think? will we try for baby number two? make this little angel a big brother/sister/sibling? "

" i need a night out. please. i'm begging you. i cannot sing another single note of baby shark! please, even a trip to the grocery store would do! "

" god, couldn't you just sit and watch them sleep forever? "

" oh god, he/she/they're crying! the baby's crying! oh man, is that a hungry cry or a diaper cry?! talk to me, little baby! "

" i cannot believe we just paid four figures for a cradle when the baby won't even sleep unless they're in our arms... "

" you know, that little baby is so freaking lucky to have you as their mom/dad/parent. "

" a-actually, maybe you better keep holding them. i mean, what if i hurt them by accident? or what if i scare them? babies don't like me, they never have! "

" you know, i always thought newborn babies looked like potatoes. but this kid is pretty darn cute! "

" i believe congratulations are in order. where's the new addition? "

" i never realized how expensive diapers were until now... "

" mm... honey, the baby... the baby's crying. wake up, baby, go help the baby... "

" nice try, but i got the baby the last time. it's your turn now. probably a diaper change, too, by the sound of it. "

" how can someone so tiny drink so much freaking milk?! "

" i wish people would quit acting like parenting experts every single time they see me. believe it or not, i do know what i'm doing! "

" some stranger on the bus decided to let me know i was a terrible mother/father/parent for not choosing to raise the baby on a vegan diet. "

" did you think of any baby names yet? or is this sweet little angel still anonymous? "

" i'm thinking we should decorate the nursery while the baby's still napping. i got the paint in my car; what do you think? "

" this baby is officially more extroverted than me! every single person we met in the park, this socializing star was waving and smiling at them like crazy! "

" oh my god, remember that little blanket you gave us when the baby was born? yeah! they refuse to go to sleep without it now, it's the cutest thing ever! "

" oh, i took the most adorable photo of the baby yesterday while they were sleeping! wanna see? "

" i don't think you need to worry about your parenting skills. 'cause that little baby in there is the happiest, luckiest kid in the whole world just by having you in their life. they might not know it yet. but they are. "

" well, according to the principal at the last pre-school, we should have been booking placements before the baby was even conceived. "

" i wonder what kind of life this baby will grow up to live? "

" you're such a natural with the baby! he/she/they love you so much already; look how they're gazing up at you! "

" i'm so sorry, but we're gonna have to leave early; the bottle leaked all over my bag, and it's feeding time now, so it's either leave early or unleash a screaming infant on you! "

" would you mind holding the baby for a minute while i go grab my stuff? "

" don't judge, but we were out of clean onesies, so i dressed the baby in that huge old t-shirt you got at that concert five years ago. if i'm being honest, it suits them! "

" listen. i know i complain and i struggle. i honestly think my mistakes outnumber my triumphs, as far as parenting is concerned. but i have never loved anything nor anyone nearly as much as i love this baby. never. "

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