#ragekept

@ragekept replied to your post: sometimes i’m tempted to put things in google docs...

Personally I HATE the google docs trend anyways. I prefer to keep everything confined to tumblr

things that are hard to hear || accepting "It's always about you."

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               “ I don’t WANT it to be. “

               The sentence is spoken quickly and on a hushed breath, with a particular BITE to it. Connor was...tired, he was exhausted, of all of it. To the humans, he was that Detective Android. To the Androids, he was some kind of myth, like the boogeyman, someone that they tolerated but he knew, he knew they didn’t quite trust him. Because of his original PURPOSE. His past crimes. He was (and is, in some of their eyes) the Deviant Hunter.

                And he was frustrated and exhausted and SUCK of being a resident within his own body. He wished, often, that he could have been any other Android. That he didn’t have a past burdened with such a terrible purpose. That he could enjoy his freedom with reckless abandon. That he didn’t have to deal with the emotional fallout of his programming and conditioning, that he didn’t question every FACET of his identity (Do I want this because I want this or because they want me to?).

                “ I’m ----- tired. “ Connor sighed, dipping his head and letting his eyes slip shut. His LED maintained a yellow hue. “ It was a lot easier when I was just a MACHINE, fulfilling a mission. I didn’t have to think, I didn’t have to feel---- “ He cut himself off, jaw clenched.

no. how can he be thinking about that, when he's too busy hearing the screams again. watching android after android get shot down, because he'd brought their doom upon jericho.

he's almost thankful when the detective turns away from him, then. it allows him a moment of composure; connor knows it's not possible for an android to feel the physical effects of sleep deprivation. knows androids don't technically sleep. yet with the insufficient time to recharge and clear processors... it amounts to be the same thing, even if it doesn't show on his skin physically. he rubs at his eyes tiredly before resting his weight against the counter. if those thoughts could simply.... leave...

hank? he blanches; oh, he's sure hank's heard him yell himself awake. probably a few times. they just... don't talk about it. or rather, connor doesn't. " no. hank... i can't tell him. i'm sure he knows, but i can't talk with him about it. i refuse to be a failure in his eyes. i refuse to be weak. with you, it doesn't matter -- your opinion of me is so far in the negatives, how could you possibly hate me more? i risk nothing in discussing my imperfections with you. "

his l.e.d hadn't once shifted from amber, body tense as if waiting for confrontation. finally, it seemed as if the man had had enough; the man stood up and made a move to approach. connor flinched and tapped his thighs, prompting the pitbull to drape her body across his lap, kissing him as he stroked her with shaking fingers. he wasn't afraid of the hostile detective, and yet...

" uhm. hello detective reed. did-- did you need something? or are you simply pausing before... you pour your fifth cup of coffee? " don't comment on it don't comment on it don't comment on it don't-- " are you aware of the negative health effects too much caffeine can have on a human body? " fuck. his l.e.d flickered red, a powder blue hue dusting his cheekbones and connor ducked his head down, firmly not making eye contact; instead he paid even more nuanced attention to his dog. " i-- sorry. i didn't mean to say that. even if it's true. i know that’s an unwanted opinion, i’m just... " unable to control my impulses. 

@ragekept​ : Why is your cat such a dick?

*    𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾𝙼 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙵𝙵     /     clara     /     always    accepting  .

Literally 90% of the posts on my blog are me screaming about this