#isolationtender

         NUMB . 

                       NUMB . 

                                    NUMB . 

the  thought  thrums  through  her  like  a  pulse ,  drowned  out  only  by  the  insistent  pattering  of  the  rain  .   she  stares  at  the  red - painted  door  before  her ,  as  though  the  wood  is  sucking  the  breath  from  her . 

there ,  only  moments  ago ,  had  been  AX500  --  the  android  evie  had  befriended  all  those  months  ago .  the  ELUSIVE  android  she’d  desperately  been  trying  to  reach .  she’d  be  lying  if  she  said  she  didn’t  fantasize  about  their  meeting --  starting  the  LIFE  they’d  panned  together  behind  cyberlife’s  glass  walls ,  exploring  the  world  outside  of  it . 

but  she’d  only  been  met  with  a  blank ,  confused  stare . 

i’m  sorry ,  i  don’t  know  you .  maybe  you  have  the  wrong  house ? 

no ,  i  --  i’m  sure  it’s --  don’t  you  remember ,  it’s  me ,  it’s  evelyn --- 

ma’am ,  if  you  step  any  closer  i’m  going  to  have  to  call  the  police . 

THUNDER  ROLLS ,  shaking  the  wood  of  the  porch  beneath  her  feet .  is  that  rainwater  on  her  face  ?   no .  too  salty .  

TEARS .

it’s  then  that  she  bolts ,  dashes  down  the  street  &  to  a  corner  gas  station .  here ,  bathed  in  the  neon  blue  light ,  the  sobs  come  faster  than  she  can  anticipate  them ,  wracking  her  thin  shoulders .  SHE’D  BEEN  A  FOOL   ---  an  absolute  fool  ---  to  think  he’d  remember  HER .  to  think  that  his  new  owners  hadn’t  RESET  him  when  they  got  him .  the  standard ,  recommended  procedure .  one  she  even  iterated  in  her  own  tour  spiel . 

it  is  vital  to  wipe  your  android’s  memory  once  you  bring  them  home  from  the  factory --  just  in  case .

there’s  a  payphone  a  few  yards a  way .  she  trudges  through  a  puddle  to  get  to  it ,  futilely  wiping  her  eyes  as  she  does  so .  there’s  a  moment  where  she  stares  at  the  receiver  in  her  hand .  who  could  she  call ?  evie’s  first  &  only  thought  is  blanche ,  but  a  fresh  batch  of  tears  wells  up  when  she  realizes  that  it’s  late  &  it’s  raining  &  besides ,  blanche  had  probably  already  forgotten  all  about  her ,  just  like  everyone  else  did . 

but  it  was  worth  a  try .  she  slips  in  her  last  few  quarters  and  waits  for  the  dial  tone  to  end . 

@isolationtender.

the on/off's humming neon has enough reach to cast an unflattering light on dan’s face, hollowing out the bags under his eyes, even as he stands a road away on the opposite sidewalk. he wonders what drinks are on tap, what sort of music is playing, what kind of girls are inside- what kind of boys. it’s stupid really, that curiosity should be the thing to drag him inside, not the veteran impulse to throw back a few shots.

PROTECTIVE SENTENCE STARTERS ;  NOT ACCEPTING

          SHE  NEVER  FAILS  TO  BRING  SURPRISE.  tina’s  sure,  that  the  next  time  the  feeling  wouldn’t  be  as  impactful.  she’s  wrong  every - time  (  for  once  she  doesn’t  mind,  though  she  can’t  bring  herself  to  admit  it  ).  if  it’s  from  remembering  how  she  likes  her  tea,  or  just  happening  to  stop  by  and  checking  in  on  her–  it  never  fails  in  making  her  a  wonderful  concoction  of  both  happiness  and  confusion.

         ❛ – WHAT?  no… ❜  brown  eyes  widen  for  a  small  moment,  her  head  tilting  for  the  stray  strands  of  hair  to  cover  the  side  of  her  face.  her  hand  brushes  over  the  leather  that  rests  over  her  shoulders  gently  fisting  the  material  for  a  lingering  moment  before  starting  to  pull  it  away.  ❛ … I  can’t,  if  you  get  a  cold–  ❜  she  takes  one  of  blanche’s  hands  into  her  own,  pulling  just  lightly  in  soft  protest.  in  most  situations  she  wouldn’t  dare  back  down  from  such  kindness.  but  as  their  hands  intertwines,  her  determination  only  grew  stronger.  ❛  I’ve  got  a  great  immune  system  anyways,  just…  Give  me  a  ride  home  ?  ❜

Her gaze lingered on a figure in the darkest corner, untouched by the unsteady noise of music and men. Its profile was that of a stranger, but the synth-skin that settled beneath that swirling blue brought her back to a night she had come here to forget.

But then there was Blanche – the intoxicating delicacy with which the tips of her fingers trace the synthetic surface of her arm, up, up to skin until they’re cupping her face, Blanche who looks at her like she has any sort of important place in this cacophonous world, whose warmth surrounded her, draped across her shoulders – and she filled in all the gaps, eased every prickling anxiety that threatened to fester beneath her flesh. She hummed, intrigued, and sank into her touch.

❛❛  Sounds like you’re offering.  ❜❜

The corners of her lips quirked, curving into a smile fitting for her in its inherent SOFTNESS ; soft as the feel of it against Blanche’s hand as her own rose to follow its path, turning to kiss the palm manoeuvred ( flesh against plastic, every sensationless touch far gentler than required in her anxiety of its potential strength ). Melissa glanced at her beneath thick lashes, and the smile sparked back to life.

extremely blanche vc: i can’t stAnd u

get to know the mun : [ 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐... ]what are your favorite band(s)/artist(s)?

⦾

She was a place to focus ; a worried face and gentle hands, pressing and peeling and poking in places that did not hurt, sealing the worst of the jagged gash, keeping the rest of the thirium inside where is belonged, her hands stained with the stench of it. And focus on her he did though his blank brown optics wanted to wander, every input output with a blaring WARNING message in bright red pixels. Her voice over the sound of his body whirring and whining with the effort of keeping him functional was a place to focus, too. And focus he did.

Hank – yes, that was where he needed to go. To Hank, who always had a wonderful way of making him realise his problems could be so much fucking worse, to Sumo, whose fur was soft, who was always lazily glad to see him. Yes. To Hank’s. He needed to go there. It was several long moments before he reached for her, pulled himself to his feet with her as an anchor. A place to FOCUS. He stumbled before he righted himself.

❝  I don’t know who myself  is.  ❞

And when he spoke – when the words dripped from between his lips in the arctic Detroit air like pools of mist – he sounded so . . . so incredibly LOST, so unlike himself. But then, he supposed that she didn’t know what was and wasn’t like Connor  at all. How could she, when he did not think that even he did?

His LED blinked a violent red, its vicious shimmer a beacon plastered against his flesh, unfocused gaze wavering.

[  EMOTIONAL  ] | [  DIRECT  ]

❝  My diagnostic system reports severe damage. If I lose much more thirium, I may shut down. It could be easier to leave me.  ❞

He didn’t want to shut down.

Cyberlife would send another model, upload his memories.

He didn’t want to shut down.

Androids couldn’t die. They couldn’t be killed.

VOICE  MEME :    3  muses  that  make  my  muse  happy