#I tried those noise filters to fuck up AI
Text
The found family dynamic is strong I love them sm <33
#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer#artists on tumblr#demon slayer art#giyuu tomioka#kny giyuu#kny tomioka#tomioka giyuu#nezuko kamado#demon slayer nezuko#kny nezuko#kimetsu nezuko#nezuko fanart#nezuko chan#demon slayer tomioka#kimetsu no yaiba tomioka#digital artwork#digital artist#digital illustration#digital fanart#the way my brain does not wanna be online rn idk what it is#it simply does not wanna create anything remotely reachable to any audience at all#TT#curse you maladaptive daydreaming#anywho#I tried those noise filters to fuck up AI#hope it works ig#they’re cute tho ngl
204 notes
·
View notes
Text
The heat of Robo-Fortune’s server room bares down on one Valerie “Valentine” ____, no noise audible in the room except for the clicks of her fingers on a keyboard. Despite the imposing atmosphere of the consciousless bodies lining the walls, Robo-Fortune’s central computer was...not particularly impressive, in comparison. Sure, it was large, but at the end of the day it was just...a big computer. The kind of thing that she’d have expected would be best suitable for....computing hundred-digit numbers. Not so much powering what seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be a largely sentient machine. As much as a certain scientist wanted to subvert that.
Her code is, truthfully, still kind of baffling to Valentine. It all makes...just enough sense for her to be able to work with it, if she needs to, but if she ever tries to truly *comprehend* it it all just falls apart in her hands. It doesn’t help that the computer keeps a backup instance of her AI running for security purposes, currently manifesting itself as a small, poorly drawn ASCII cat rambling around the screen obnoxiously. Valentine sighs. Yeah, that’s Robo-Fortune alright.
Now, to be fair, they aren’t actually medical scalpels. As for the body bag...blame Easter. It worked for her, I just mimic her style, and somehow it ends up working for me too. Who knows. As for the manual shutdown, sure, that would have been an option...but it wouldn’t have fixed the problem. That’s what I’m doing now. Brian’s at least managed to delineate where that...censorship was. Which means I can get rid of it easily enough...
...Hold on, where did that...? Oh. Right. Top of the screen here. I don’t know how I didn’t notice that. But I still...
One thing at a time.
Oh, so you all know about...that too, huh? Well. Luckily I haven’t heard from her in...quite some time, actually. I think it’s been something like two years at this point. Sure, I still want to avenge the Last Hope, but...I have something worth protecting here now. If I see her again, I’m not hesitating.
Wow, you’re really keeping them coming, Fortune. Okay, sure, whatever makes you happy. I’ve been wondering that myself, actually. I thought that setup Fortune had in her more hospitable room, where we usually gather for the asks, was the thing that was uploading these, but...clearly there’s wiggle room. Up in Lab 8, and I know I remember one with Fukua where there was nobody else around...
Ugh...Fukua...he’s really got her in a corner. It’s a shame you’re the only one here I can fix just by doing some reprogramming, Fortune.
(Surprisingly, I think I agree with that assessment, Valentine. Though I doubt we have the same ideas. Excuse me, but what are you doing, exactly?)
Hello, Brian. I figured you were going to come bother me about this. What do you want?
(...I’ll admit, you were a lot more surprised right now when I imagined this conversation in my mind.)
(Well, it’s good that you aren’t, I suppose. That indicates you don’t believe you have anything to hide. I can appreciate that...confidence, at least. So, let’s get to the point. What do you think you’re doing, Valentine?)
What does it look like I’m doing, director? I’m fixing your terrible decision. Look, I don’t know what it is that’s motivating you to do what you’re doing, but if you used that exposed brain of yours you’d realize that programming in a bunch of contingencies to keep your combat robot from functioning when the people around her are experiencing emotions is kind of a bad idea.
(What I installed, Valentine, was a filter for concepts that would be counter to her functions. If she got uppity and decided to, say, help the other two break out, that would be an obvious problem, yes? Or, if she was exposed to...certain concepts that might color the world around her in an unhelpful fashion.)
What-ugh, just listen to yourself! Pretentious-I don’t care what you intended it to be for, Brian. The fact of the matter is, it isn’t. Working. All it’s doing is shutting her down and causing problems. And this time, it was so bad that it full-on incapacitated her, because she’s realizing what’s doing it, and she doesn’t like it. I think a working weapon that might catch a case of the feelings is a bit better than one that’s slowly tearing herself apart trying to avoid a bunch of mental landmines. So I’m fixing it, director.
(And, of course, this idea has nothing to do with your softness for them, correct? I’d just be interested to know, Valentine. You can talk about doing it for her sake as a weapon, but I know you. And I’ve heard what you said to them. They’re not things you say lightly. So, I’d just like some confirmation that you’re not going to do something ill-advised, like take this opportunity to encourage her-or them-to break away from us.)
I’m not an idiot. Brian, I’m just removing that code, and just so that we don’t have to worry about her functions. You’re right, I do care about them, and that fact is part of what’s motivating me to do this, but I’d want to either way. Besides, you already took care of our escape plan. You said so yourself. Birdland isn’t going to come do some heroic rescue now either way, no matter how much Robo-Fortune is or isn’t shutting herself down.
(A good answer. But we’ll just have to see how well it holds up to scrutiny.)
*Siiigh* Whatever. Go ahead, root around all you want.
(OH, I WILL.)
.....
(....)
.....
(Come on, you have to be....)
I have to be what, Director?
(...Nevermind. I suppose you *don’t* have to be hiding something. Unless you’ve suddenly become a master of regulating your thoughts...the story checks out, Valentine. Alright, then. I suppose you have a point. Oh, but...if I were you, I would keep...hold on, scroll up. Yes, there we go. This section. That’s been there for some time now, and I assure you, it’s important.)
...And if I ask, will you explain why?
(No. No, not as of yet, at the very least. And, ideally, never, but I shouldn’t rule such things out.)
Great. Alright, sure. It’s staying.
(Wonderful. Carry on, then.)
....
((More under the cut))
------------------------------
Valentine finally releases a held breath as the director disappears. She knows he probably checked to make sure that she was going to carry out that request, as well. Of course, she wasn’t. Not in the slightest.
You know, she begins, she was a little worried about this before he got here.
There’s no response from the room, at first. Until something materializes next to her, a copy in every way save for the fact that she’s made out a gently glowing energy. Ghost removes her copied mask, a pleased, almost bragadocious grin on her semi-transparent face.
““...””
Valentine shakes her head. She doesn’t have whatever experience allows Shamone to translate Ghost’s expressions so well, but she can tell that the dead woman is obviously riding the high of her deception.
Valentine types one final command and steps back as the machinery whirs. The update is sent out. It won’t be long before Fortune comes back online. She takes a look at Ghost, just out of the corner of her eye, and nods. Thanks, she says. Ghost responds as elaborately as usual, but her expression softens. She moves forward, walking in a manner that doesn’t quite look right, as though she’s moving under some other power and is merely going through the motions in the most literal sense. She moves one hand towards the keyboard, and types out her message.
> Anything for her.
Valentine nods in understanding, before moving to delete those words. Ghost briefly seems upset by it, but one look is all it takes for her to realize why. We don’t want him to stumble onto that, Valentine explains.
““...””
And with that, Ghost disappears. Valentine takes a moment to wait. And worry. She’s not sure if this is going to work. It feels like the odds are good that it won’t. But she has to at least try. And it feels a little selfish to say, but...
She needs to see the look on his smug fucking face if it does.
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bittersweet Reunion - Watch Dogs: Legion [WIP]
(can you tell i had no clue what to name this)
so i wrote this after i played wdl and finished the finding bagley mission bc i loved that there was a canon mlm pairing and i thought the whole meeting bradley thing was Incredibly unsatisfying so i did this and originally i was gonna have bagley and arthur get back together but then it started writing itself and bagley wouldnt date arthur bc that’d go against his morals and i was like shit thats not what i planned but also i realized it was in character so this is that disaster lmao
“I’m ready for the rest of my life, Arthur. And I want you to be a part of it.”
The sixth audio file ended with what sounded like a kiss, and Lindsey had to pause to take it in. Bagley had really had a life— a lover. A lover he had to leave behind.
“Arthur… I should remember more about him. But I don’t.”
It sounded so rushed, so nonchalant, that Lindsey knew better than to believe his tone and even Bagley himself knew it. Because, truth was, he was processing the same things Lindsey was and more. He really was damned to eternity, being a human turned AI and all, because now he was experiencing quite a lot of thoughts and certainly not enjoying it. Where was Arthur now? Did he still remember him? Did he miss him? Why was Bagley even wondering if his not-boyfriend still missed him?
Some part of his human half wondered if it’s possible to find Arthur again, meet the person his past self was so deeply in love with that now he found himself longing for him too.
“Sir—”
“Don’t touch me!”
Bagley was pulled out of the thoughts growing less and less artificial by the second as the next audio file began, already far more emotionally charged than the ones prior.
“These people are here to help you, Bags—”
“Don’t call me that!”
He’s snappish and frustrated and angry and current Bagley could almost feel it too. There’s more struggling as Bagley— past Bagley— seemed to be fighting someone off.
“She did this! Someone stop her!”
‘She’ must’ve been Skye Larsen, who else could it have been? He wanted to hope Natalie would listen— just listen, goddammit, this was all Skye’s fault, don’t you know what she’s done?— but he knew it was no use. They didn’t know. Natalie didn’t know. Not a fucking soul knew what she did to him.
“Don’t hurt him! He’s not usually like this!”
“Get out of my head! Get o—”
His voice died out as more noise played, then an unfamiliar voice called for an ambulance.
“Bags. Bagley. Bra—”
And it ended there.
“I’m assuming that ‘she’ was Skye Larsen,” he said to Lindsey. “Seems like the usual suspect where brain fuckery is concerned.” As controlled as he usually was, not even he could keep the slightest bit of anger out of his voice by the end of his sentence.
The next audio file began with a man explaining that Bagley had early on-set dementia, which intrigued him because it didn’t explain when exactly Skye got her hands on him. Then the sister from prior audio files spoke with that same strangely familiar voice, just as demanding as before. “You listen to me. I don’t care what it takes. No brother of mine is going to waste away in some hospital.”
Something was wrong. There was a piece missing somewhere between those memories and he had an idea of where it could be found.
Skygarden.
“Why do I have a feeling we’re not up here to reminisce?” The audio began as Lindsey snapped the last photo.
“Right. I’ve been thinking a lot about your epilepsy.” The sister. Of course. He still couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but she sounded awfully familiar, but not in a good way. In a this-person-has-the-same-name-as-my-primary-school-bully way.
“That’s nice. My doctors stopped thinking about it years ago. I had to give up so much because of it. Rowing, my mates, my…” A sigh followed after he trailed off and he had a feeling that that sigh replaced the word ‘boyfriend.’
“I’m sorry, Bradley.” Bradley. That name sounded familiar. Come to think of it, that must’ve been what Natalie called him in the seventh audio file just before it cut off. He supposed it sounded familiar because, well, it is— was— his name, but there was something more to it. He just couldn’t figure out what. He ran a quick search for Bradleys in London, but of course that left him with thousands of Bradleys and not a single clue as to how to filter out the useless ones.
“Wow. Look at you using my real name for once. I must be truly fucked.” Fucked was an understatement. How did he go from a human to nothing more than an AI? It wasn’t that he was unhappy as an AI, especially considering he worked for DedSec and they were wonderful, they really were, but to think he was once human…
“What if I told you I had something that could work?”
Something deep inside of him that vaguely resembled a computerized heart dropped at those words. He had a bad, bad feeling about this.
“Ha. Never knew you were funny.”
But Skye Larsen created him, didn’t she?
“I’m not. It’s a tech we’re developing. It’s early stages, but… have you ever heard of neural mapping?”
“No.” No, it couldn’t be.
“Here. Let’s go to my lab. I’ll show you.”
Who was this sister?
“Lead the way, Skye.”
And the audio ended.
“I was Skye Larsen’s brother.” It was strange to say out loud. “I’m Bradley. Bradley Larsen.” That was why she sounded so familiar. That was why Skye Larsen was his creator. Fuck. “Bradley Larsen…” He returned to his search for Bradleys and narrowed it down to one Bradley Larsen, brother of Skye Larsen, son of Sinead and Kevin Larsen. “I’ve found a room pre-paid through to April 4, 2040 under the name of Bradley Larsen— paid for by S. Larsen.” Skye.
“So you might still be alive,” Lindsey said. “Where’s the room?”
He checked his databases. “St. Pancras Hotel.”
And when she arrived, it was no less than what he expected, if less than what he wanted.
He left not quite satisfied.
But what else could he do? His father was gone and his mother and sister were dead. He checked his deep profiler and found Natalie through Bradley, but it seemed she was dead as well. And then— Arthur Jenkins, former spouse.
“I think I’ve found Arthur from the sixth audio file,” he said. “Mind getting him for me?”
“Say the word, Bags,” Lindsey said.
He found his schedule and looked for his soonest outing. “He’ll be at Crosier & Cherry Tree at 8 PM.” There was a tinge of sadness in his voice at the location that they both decided to ignore.
He checked the rest of Arthur’s profile, too curious to resist. His photo was attached. To his surprise, Arthur was a curly-haired ginger. Apparently Bradley had known more people with no souls than just Skye Larsen. Age 29, worked as a bartender at Crosier & Cherry— that was why he’d be there. Associated with Melissa Phillips, friend; Natalie Walker, deceased friend; and Bradley Larsen, former spouse. Metadata… looking through it could’ve broken his heart if he had one.
He had countless searches involving dementia up until he was 28 and had hundreds of recorded visits to St. Pancras Hotel, Bradley’s room. Hundreds of visits that, when he accessed the records, seemed to just… stop. Daily-to-weekly visits simply vanished into none. Numerous phone calls to Skye Larsen that Bagley could only assume were angry and accusational because he was charged for harassment due to a complaint from Skye on the same day he stopped visiting.
He tried. He really tried, and then Skye fucked it all up like she always does.
“Bagley, I’ve found him.” He turned his attention to Lindsey’s Optik and, sure enough, he could see the ginger in the photo through the glass window. “Want me to bring him back to the Hackerspace?”
He considered it, but bringing him back would’ve meant involving the others. This was just a one-time thing. “No, just— could you get him somewhere I could talk privately with him?”
“Sure thing.” He watched as she entered the pub and approached Arthur at the counter.
“‘Ello, mate, what can I get for you?” he asked, uncannily cheery with a smile on his face. Something told Bagley this should’ve made him feel… something, but he felt not even a twinge of recognition from anywhere other than the photo on his digital profile.
“I’m here to talk to you, actually,” Lindsey said.
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow and took a second to look her over a second time, his customer service smile fading into skepticism. “Do I know you?”
“No, but I know someone you do. Mind if we talk somewhere else?”
He shrugged. “S’pose not. Better get it on with, then, I’ve got to get back to work.”
Shit. Time was running out and they were already heading to a back room and Bagley hadn’t a fucking clue what to say so when he was cast onto the nearest unwatched telly before Lindsey left, all he could think to say was “Hello, Arthur.”
And then there was a silence where Bagley was internally cursing himself for being such a bloody idiot and Arthur looked like either he was about to drop to his knees in awe or he had shit himself. And then he broke the silence.
“Bradley?” His eyes were lit up with hope, hope Bagley knew he’d have to destroy because he wasn’t Bradley, not really. But he’d worry about that later.
“Oh, Gods, that’s going to be my version of Bradley’s stupid nickname, isn’t it? Though, if you ask me, Bagley is a perfectly good name,” he remarked. He had no idea how to properly handle a situation in which he was meeting the lover he had in a past life, so, naturally, he reverted to his usual self. Arthur was in love with him before, he can put up with him again.
Arthur chuckled, cracking a smile. “Now I know you aren’t Bradley. He hated that nickname.” He took another moment to comprehend what just happened. “But, really, how? How are you— what are you? What is” —he gestured vaguely at the TV screen— “this?”
“That’s a funny story, actually, see—”
“Bradley,” Arthur interrupted him, his smile turning solemn. “I’m serious. Last time I saw you, you were in a bloody wheelchair! What happened to you?”
There was another silence where Bagley tried to think of something ‘serious’ to say, but his actual response felt much more natural to him.
“Don’t call me that,” he said, a feigned grumble but unseen smile in his voice, “that’s not my name.”
And at that, not even Arthur could keep a straight face, but his smile didn’t last long. “Bags. Please. I need answers. I was so sure it was that bitch Skye— sorry, I know she’s your sister and all, but— I spent so long searching for ways to help you and trying to get her to fucking stop— you only ended up in the bloody hospital after she got involved and then she wouldn’t let me keep seeing you and I couldn’t—” His voice broke then and he had to pause, clear his throat and collect himself. “I’m sorry, I tried, I didn’t want to stop visiting. I really didn’t. I’m sorry.”
Bagley didn’t know how to tell him it was all in vain; Skye won in the end, she always did, and he didn’t even remember being Bradley or knowing Arthur at all. As far as he remembered, he’d only known Arthur for five minutes.
“Bagley?”
“It doesn’t matter.” There was no use in prolonging it.
“...What?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated. “I’m not Bradley.”
“Are you mad? Of course you’re Bradley.’
“No, I’m not. Bradley is still in St. Pancras. I’m Bagley.”
Arthur gave a confused chuckle and crossed his arms. “What are you talking about?”
“It was Skye,” he finally said. “It’s a long story, really, but in simpler terms, she tried to fix Bradley’s epilepsy through a process called neural mapping. It essentially separated his consciousness from his body, which gave him dementia and took my human body. I’m his consciousness, but I’m not him.”
Arthur didn’t respond. He seemed to still be processing what he’d just heard.
“And I’m sorry to say, but my memory was wiped not long after my creation. I don’t… remember anything about being Bradley.” He paused. Arthur knew what that meant, and he knew that his next sentence was going to confirm it. “I don’t remember anything about you.”
Arthur took far longer to respond than Bagley would’ve liked. “So you’re—” He stopped. “So Bradley’s really gone.”
“Unfortunately so.”
More silence. “Then why are you here?”
That was a good question, actually. Why was he here?
“I suppose I came to say goodbye,” Bagley said. “Give you some closure on Bradley, so you know what happened. I know you two were quite close.”
He scoffed. “Close is an understatement.” His voice softened. “We were going to get married,” he said. “At least, I think we were. If Skye hadn’t gotten involved— if I’d only had the time— I was going to propose. Had a ring in mind and everything. I’m fairly sure Bradley knew, too. I just wanted us to have that one thing before… before it was too late.”
Bagley had to take a second to let it sink in. In a past life, he’d almost gotten married. How much had he missed out on as a human because of Skye? His voice was solemn as he spoke, a first for him. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be.” Arthur offered no elaboration before something else seemed to cloud his mind. Silence seemed to be something both of them were good at. Bagley considered directly asking what was on his mind, but Arthur spoke before he could decide. “Can I ask something of you?”
“Ask away. I’ve only got the rest of my non-life.”
“...Could we try it again?” he asked, hesitation in his words. At Bagley’s confused silence, he uncrossed his arms, a willing show of vulnerability. “I mean, could we try… us, again? I know you don’t remember anything about me or Bradley and you’re not Bradley, I know that, but— maybe something good could come out of it. Maybe— maybe we could still have something.”
“You want us to…” He trailed off, thinking it over. By ‘something,’ he meant a relationship, but— could he be in a relationship? He was still an AI. He wasn’t Bradley. He wasn’t even attracted to Arthur. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could feel attraction, if that was built into his operating system. Everything in him wanted to say no, it would never work out. An AI taking part in human affairs was a recipe for disaster.
“We could start from the beginning,” Arthur added, as if he knew what Bagley was thinking before he even said it. “I know you don’t really know me so we can start out just friends, nothing more. We can take it as slow as you want and if you decide there’ll never be anything more, we can just stay as friends if that’s what you’re comfortable with. But if you think there can be more, we can try that.”
It was tempting, but… Arthur was still human. And Bagley was not. “Arthur, I’m not sure I was made for this.”
“Then let’s find out,” he said. “I’m okay with anything you are.”
“No, I mean I’m not sure I was made to feel attraction. I believe that’s a fairly important part of relationships,” Bagley said with a hint of humor in the last sentence, though it disappeared by the next. “I’ve never felt that way toward anyone and I’m not sure you’ll be an exception.”
He sighed. “Bags. It doesn’t matter to me whether you like me as a friend or as a boyfriend. What matters is whether or not you’re comfortable with me. I didn’t fall in love with your attraction. I fell in love with you.”
“You fell in love with Bradley,” he corrected. “Not me.”
Regardless of how tempting the offer was and how curious he was to see the extent of his human capabilities, it’d only be an experiment. A trial run of a relationship with someone who was only willing because he was still attached to the person Bagley no longer was. It would be cruel to take advantage of Arthur’s hope for his own curiosity— no different from what Skye did to Bradley. He might’ve had his human body stripped from him, but he still had his humanity.
“Arthur, I’m not Bradley,” he said. “And I know it’s hard to accept, but I can’t be the person you want me to be.”
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dead until you awake - Hamilton fanfiction, Ghost AU (Chapter 1 )
Author :
I really want to post this fic somewhere and have it back up on some part of the internet. This is a collaboration between me and my dear friend Trinnie. I love it with all my heart. So please don't insult our work if you somehow found it and read it.
Rating:
Warning: Major character death, graphic violence
Category: M/M, F/M, Multi
Fandom: Hamilton (Lin Manuel Miranda)
Characters: Alexander Hamilton, Charles Lee (Li), Ling Li,
Relationship: Alexander Hamilton & Charles Lee (Li), Karin Simons (OC)/ Charles Lee (mention/post)
Additional tag: suicidal character, drug use, accident, embarrassing violation of privacy, parental issues, college failure, teenage pregnancy, attachment issues, etc
Chapter 1 :
Alex raises a middle finger to the man who drove him and his wet carton boxes to his new accommodation. It was a makeman following orders from Mr. Schuyler, helping Alex one final time before closing all his doors to the Schuyler family. Great. Another way to rub it in his face that he was never part of it anyway.
He looks at the small townhouse with its yellowing front yard and spider-webbed windows with a sigh. It is unbelievably cheap and strangely free of any negative feedback. Once Alex thought he had seen somebody said the place was haunted, but then the comment was deleted within an hour. Seems like the website has a good filter with spam content then.
He knows for sure he’d feel very alone in it. Such a big home for no one but him. Alex normally would get angry at this moment, angry at Eliza’s impassive expression and the way she gladly turned from him with a hand on her slightly swollen stomach. He’d get angry if he has the energy for it.
But he doesn’t. Everything is taken away from him: his education, his job, his girlfriend, his child growing in her stomach, and now his anger. His life is a spilled glass of water. And he wants to break the glass.
The floor squeaks when Alex starts carrying in his boxes. As if there is a second pair of feet walking with him but Alex pays no attention. He observes the heavily hanging webs across the furniture and upper corners, almost like thin veils of invisible brides. It’s a nice place to die, nobody will probably find him for a long time.
He wonders if the bottle of bromethalin rodenticide will be painful once Alex gathers enough courage to use it.
He enters the bathroom and is happy to see the taps still work. But the old water leaks a color brown and he leaves it open until it looks safe enough. The bedroom seems to be less dirty other than a few webs scattered on top of the neatly made blanket covering the bed. He simply flings it to the floor and lies down, closing his eyes for sleep to naturally come and claim his idle, unenergetic body.
Ten years, this is his 10th year stuck in this awkward position. He hasn’t get out of this haunted house since 2008. Everything seems to get bigger and fancier over this decade, but he’s still that 21 years old Charles Lee. He thinks while remembering what it was like when this new kid moved in a week ago.
People who rented this house would always move out before their one year contract reached an end. They would curse at the owner through texts, trying to leave a comment on their website, or even collecting evidence about him. They have never succeeded to get any attention, you can see their plans fall apart by those new ones filling into their empty spots. Nobody knew that being noticed was harder than they imagined.
Take this new roommate he has as the example. This ponytail-teen seems to be ignoring his present from the very first second. This boy, whose name clearly is Alex based on his email account and how most of his friend address him in that flat-touchable phone. “ Alex” hadn’t even seemed to notice he have a ghost roommate. No matter how much noises and signs he makes with every part of the house.
Shaking window? Alex simply gives it a glare before he continues his meaningless small paragraphs ( who even would spend that much of the time to debating on a website that you can only type 140 words ? ).
Disrupting the signal so that the youtube site would play a video which screams out his name? His emotionless new roommate only texted what happened to a guy named John.
Not even with his best trick that makes everyone “ realized” they have a nonhuman roommate. Alex, or more correctly, one of the worst roommate he ever had in this house ( Burr won the worst place easily, but this guy feels worse than him in a way). Charles can’t believe he just wiped those words off without a flinch, those words he spent hours and precious energies on… what a monster he is facing here.
And a monster deserves to be treated like one, he has to use that forbidden way to communicate with Alex.That way he hadn’t had a chance to do since 2009.
“Hi, Alex, I’m your ghost roommate Charles Lee. Can you please pay more attention to the fact You HAVE a roommate and he’s NOT a human? How can you possibly ignore every sign I gave you? Anyway, please stop ignoring my present cause I… really need your help on something important... please stop pretending you saw nothing, or I will keep typing on your thin computer and that flat-touchable phone. ”
He types down everything he wants to shout into Alex’s face while the boy is writing another long paragraph about something he doesn’t give a fuck. All he needs is this asshole to notice him, and at least do something about it.
Honestly? Comment section fighting is now the only thing that keeps Alex alive. It’s small and unexpected, but Alex had nothing else to look forward to when he goes to bed every day. It drags him out of bed, although he only changes places by sitting on the dusty desk. Still, progress is progress. Even if it’s tiny and insignificant.
Alex hasn’t even cleaned the place ever since he came here. If he’s going to die very soon, why bother cleaning it? He remembers he once was the most hard-working employee and what did it cause him? His education. Maybe his sanity is also out of the question. Which is why he’s seeing the pointer blinking and blinking as the keyboard types on its own. Alex raises his hands away but the stream of words continues nonetheless.
“Hi, Alex, I’m your ghost roommate Charles Lee. Can you please pay more attention to the fact You HAVE a roommate and he’s NOT a human? How can you possibly ignore every sign I gave you? Anyway, please stop ignoring my present cause I… really need your help on something important... please stop pretending you saw nothing, or I will keep typing on your thin computer-“
Interesting. But this says nothing. Alex thinks this website has such an interesting AI to respond to him. He thought AI’s would never admit they’re not human. Unless they have come up with a roleplaying model, then that’s very understandable. He decides to give it a try.
He simply types back. “Why should I pay attention to this non-human roommate? If he’s staying, isn’t he obliged to split the ownership payment with me?”
“Why should I pay attention to this non-human roommate? If he’s staying, isn’t he obliged to split the ownership payment with me?”
Can a human be more… insensitive about what just happened to him? On his computer? Charles Lee is certain that he made those keyboards typed themselves in a normal human’s eyes. Are the technologies really that advance right now? But things are still going by his plan, this one is still communicating with him.
He dislikes how this new human has no respect or fears toward him...but he remembers how great a human interaction felt like, and how much does he miss it.
So he continues sucking up battery power from Alex’s strange computer while writing down his reply to explain the situation. Jokingly trying to convince his new roommate why he doesn’t need to pay the rent.
“Are you really asking why a ghost doesn’t need to pay rent? …
Here’s why I don’t need to pay anything. First, I don’t need any place to do anything I need to. For example, I’m sitting in the same spot you are now, in a thick layer of dirty blankets. do you feel my weight or anything on you? No? great. See my point?
Second, this is MY house. Well, technically my grandma’s now, cause I leave it to her after I became a ghost.
… Should I start proving I’m a real ghost now like those weird comedy movies? “
He crosses his leg after he finished the reply, saving some additional energy he got from touching/possessing Alex’s device. Today seems to be a bit, no, so much fresher than these ten years (not physically, of course, his house is still dusty like a winter storm). To have another person to truly communicating with is… unbelievably happy. Not like he doesn’t enjoy alone time and watching others living their own lives. He’s dead, he shouldn’t have any desire to be and live like other humans. He should be moving on from this.
He won’t be one of those people who can’t move on.
Alex blinks. It’s a bit harder to tell if this is an AI that hacks into his computer or not. But then he remembers the writing on his mirror. The way his video game specifically chanted over and over in a demonic tone.
Definitely a ghost then.
“Are you a ghost of a Revolutionary general?” Alex now asks aloud. He tries not to feel stupid. But then he’s seeing a blurry silhouette, the glitchy motion around this figure.
Could it be that the more he believes in this being, the more of it he would see? Alex recalls the theory from an old movie he saw.
He opens up a Word document and types in.
“How did you die? Why didn’t you go to the afterlife? Is there an afterlife at all?”
[Fin-fucking-nally!] Charles shout out after hearing Alex’s questions. Feeling terribly happy about his new roommate’s recognition of his identity. He starts typing out his replies after calming down from that shouldn't be existed excitement.
“ That would be cool and sad if I’m from the 18th centuries. But no, I’m just a regular college fuck-up from 10 years ago. “
He can't help but imagines how terrible would it be if he's here since 1776, that kind of ghost is definitely one that can’t move one, 10 years isn't that long when compared to centuries of existence.
He continues typing in his reply after thinking about them for a few minutes.
There’s nobody to tell him can he tell a human that or not… But since this isn't a classic horror film interaction, why not telling him about it? Not like it and privacy matters that much anymore.
“ Wow wow, slow down my dude, that's some... long-story-short questions you just asked. But before I answer any of those, I need to know would you help me out or not first, a simple yes or no. Because, you know, those questions are awfully personally to a ghost, to a stuck one like me.
Alex shakes himself awake at that reply. It’s been a week since he moved in and Alex hasn’t gone outside at all; he didn’t eat much and is still counting on the fridge stock. He hasn’t interacted with anyone, which may have caused him to forget very basic manners. He forgot he has just asked someone, a former human, how they died.
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to offend you. What do you mean by “help out”? What will this help entail? I pretty much have nothing to do for now so time’s not a concern.”
Alex smiles bitterly at his own reply. Time was something he never had before. He enrolled in college with an unbelievable amount of financial aid, his name too innocuous for filtering. After that, he learned that uni had never been the highschool endgame, the movie ending he imagined. No, it was a storm of progress.
He balanced between study with finding enough dough to feed himself. It went well until Alex was wrought with illness after spending 14 hours a day outdoors in January running errands. He lost precious time for his work, his study and was brought into the care of one Eliza Schuyler. She was doing Meds but helped out her Nursery friend who couldn’t attend her practicals. Eliza was drawn to his hard work and scathing humor, the way his speech naturally flaunts.
She just didn’t know that the downsides to him were sleepless nights, a frayed mind and a man desperate to rise above his station.
She realized too late when her belly swelled and she had to hide from her sisters by staying over at his place 24/7. The nights she couldn’t sleep with his desk lamp on and the cackling of his keyboard, her feet aching which prevented her from seeking relief from the morning sickness. The way Alex tried to do work from home to tend for her needs went underappreciated. They were sketched in different shades of pencil gray, smudged in terrible condition. Both missing schools, both not working enough to sustain themselves and both miserable. Both failing uni and there was no salvation but to retake the year. Scholarship ripped away from Alex and his chance of regaining a similar one is a number with many zeros behind a dot.
One of them had a family to fall onto, the other did not. And he would never do. And he will soon make a child fatherless with the bromethalin waiting in his bag like a ticking time bomb.
He stands up from his former position, taking few steps to face that kid who smiles bitterer than how he should in his age. Not like he’s that much older than him, but he knows what other kids look like at his age, at least how they look like at 2008. Replying him further with a sarcastic tone between his sentence doesn’t sound like a good option at this moment. Charles decides to write his answer with a different kind of tone he was planning to use.
“ Non taken, it was good enough that you are curious than furiously trying to kick me out…”
He remembers the first few families who seem to care about him at first. Our little girl has an imaginary best friend, they said. How cute, he like a dog just like her, they awed. He wants her to let him be IN her body, they screamed. Totally ignored is the reason behind his intention to possess her, only looked into the things that conquered over their minds. Most humans who didn’t get scared treated him like a pest. forgetting who is the real owner and who’s the new *guest*.
“ ...that help relates to my afterlife. To answer your one of your question, Yes, the afterlife does exist. Even though I haven’t been to my own afterlife yet. But I can feel it... like that company you always want to get in, but you just not qualified... ANYWAY. I, clearly still stuck in between. This means I still haven’t moved on, I still have regrets I NEED to fulfilled… I know we just start to know each other for couples minutes, it’s fine if you don’t want to help me at all. “
He tries to look Alex in the eyes, saying out the help he needs while typing it down.
“ Can I… Possess you? And maybe borrow your thin-Computer for a day. I just need to find her, I mean, finish that things I can’t leave behind … I won’t overdo it, of course, even I know too much possession can kill a human. “
Alex blinks and rereads. Blinks some more. Traces the line with his finger. So his battery level has decreased almost by half. He quickly imagines how being killed by this will be like; probably feeling drained and tired until you suddenly drop dead like a shut-down PC.
So it’ll be a sort of death in your sleep kind of way...suddenly the bromethalin seems a tad ridiculous. Alex’s having an easy way out, and it comes unexpectedly almost like everything else in his life.
“So..Charles? Why are you asking for permission? Did you almost kill someone when you tried to possess them?” He asks to find out if there’s really a guarantee of death should this possession business be real.
“ Well, it’s a tradition. A routine we need to follow if we need to possess a living thing. Like… inviting a vampire into your house? “
Charles types back with a sense of relief but misunderstands Alex’s reaction to his response. He only catches his reaction of him touching the decreasing battery level.
“To be honest, I have never really possessed a person more than an hour before. I heard about how possession kills a health human though. And killing someone with this… unfortunately *power* isn’t my intention.”
He lies down on the ground, pretending he can feel those dust on the floor again. Like what he used to do when he wanted to avoid his parents’ meeting. Sleeping on the cold floor with AC running whole night always made him sick enough to not seeing anyone, but still able to do his works.
Alex for a moment cannot see the blurry figure anymore and panics a bit. He hasn’t seen it lying down.
“Wait? Where are you?” He calls. “I’m curious, how do you know you are poss- how do you know you have successfully possessed someone?”
“And how will possessed death be like, I wonder? Is it like brain dead or stop-breathing-dead?”
“ I'm on the ground buddy. Already missing me without even seeing me clearly?”
He didn’t get up from the ground but stay in the same position, typing out his answer with his head this time. One of the few good things about being a ghost, you can type with your mind. Which lower the rated battery dies out, but still takes a lot of battery power out fast.
“I’m glad you are getting serious now, cause your computer is dying faster than I thought. Well, I would be able to control your physically. Kinda like your 2nd personality in some way, you would still be able to interact with me internally??
…and the ...um, death? It would be like a brain dead situation. I would be slowly draining your brain, human’s natural energy source, where we have most of the electric signals going on. That’s probably an important reason why a ghost need consent to possess anyone. We are basically slowly sucking up your life juice. “
“...how can I trust you to control me?” Alex asks, shuddering. This sounds like an out-of-control situation and that’s something unacceptable for Alex. No way. Not after the downward spiral he and Eliza were helpless to escape.
“Can’t you do what you’re doing now? Like…” Alex looks to the ground, not seeing the blurry figure very well so he pins his gaze onto a particular spot. “Like...not be in my body but still using my life force?”
John’d criticize him for his need to control everything. But Alex thinks once you’ve reached such a low point as now, your complex is of the least concern.
He wonders if Charles needs to keep his ghostly state a secret.
“Well, that’s not how human possession works, unfortunately.“
He replies to Alex with a smirk on his face, chuckles lightly from how easy human imagines possession would be. Why would he be controlling those machines than humans when humans are so much more efficient?
“ I figured out that we can only control lifeless subjects distantly, but not any lives who have a thought. Do you know I even have to negotiate with a bird if I want to possess it? Yes, I tried E V E R Y T H I N G . “ And he can’t understand any of their words no matter how hard he tried.
“And I’m only a regular ghost who barely managed to keep my energy wave together, forcing a living being to be fully under my control… would possibly break me apart. So yeah, you totally don’t need to worry about me doing anything you don’t want. I would be like your subpersonality, who doesn’t have enough power to push you away from the spotlight? “
For a moment, Alex isn’t going to take the risk. But then he sees himself in the phrase “tried E V E R Y T H I N G” and does a double-take. He knows very well the feeling of having done everything and still ends up alone. Defeated. A failure.
That feeling of loneliness, helplessness and trapped is what he sees in this ghost friend. He has nothing to lose. And even if he dies from this, maybe Charles can take over his body. And live a better life than him.
It’s a win-win.
“You’ve got yourself a deal. How do I give consent?” Alex asks into thin air.
Charles can't hide his smile when Alex really agree with this … Is he truly going to give his consent to use his body? Dear god, I promise I won’t kill this innocent kid and use his body as little as possible.
“OMG, you are giving me your consent ?! ...Here, repeat this sentence after me till you can see me laying on...no, sitting on the ground with my favorite sweater. “
He sits up and tries to make himself looks less messy, someone is going to look at him clearly with giving him consent. At least Alex would see a ghost with a fixed hair. A good first expression would probably make their face to face interaction less awkward.
“ repeat after this till you see me: I, Alex (your full name), agree to let Charles Lee possess me at my free will. Not because of outside force or threat by the ghost who is going to take control of my body temporarily.”
“If something goes wrong...Nah, I mean, who is there to miss.” Alex chuckles carefreely and repeats the phrase written on his screen.
“I, Alexander Hamilton, agree to let Charles Lee possess me at my free will. Not because of outside forces or threat by the ghost…” A drop of sweat trails down the side of his face. Alex is really reaching the end of this sentence. He has forgotten what it feels like for his heart to beat this fast, for him to feel the liveliness of expectation, “who is going to take control of my body temporarily.”
He shuts his eyes.
A connection suddenly appears right after Alex finishes his sentence. Charles can take control of Alex’s body without any barrier now. But he wants to wait till he finally can see him in the eyes. And make sure he still agree on doing it afterword.
“Alright, I think we have built that route for possession now… can you hear me? “
He asks curiously, trying to calm himself down from talking to a real human in five years. Hoping Alex would be able to hear him.
“ Do you… regret your decision now ?”
Alex’s eyes open as he is startled by the sudden voice in the previously quiet room. Following the direction of it, Alex sees a young man sitting on the floor.
A handsome face, symmetrical and nice to look at if not for the way blood is dripping over the left side of it. His ghost, Charles Lee, is wearing a large sweater with the faded writing of a university name. His skin is translucently pale, so pale that the dark eye bags are as pronounced as eye make-up.
“You are...Charles?” He reaches out to touch the ghost’s shoulder and it felt as if his hand passes through a block of ice. It’s a numbing feeling, strangely calm. If death is actually like this, Alex doesn’t see why he has anything to fear.
“No. I don’t regret it.” He offers his hand for a shake. “Not at all.”
“ Yep, I’m your local-very-dead ghost roommate, Charles Lee. “
He puts on a more relaxing smile when Alex start asking him questions instead of getting irrational about his present, he did meet a better human this time. Better than the last human who tried to kick him out with holy water (which was only a waste of money).
“ I’m glad that you didn’t freak out meeting me. You know, I don’t exactly look like a normal human. Do I give you a good first expression? Like my style so far ?”
He shakes Alex’s hand with his most steady handshake, greeting his temporarily human in a manner he hasn’t use for ages. Can’t help but gets exciting about having this opportunity enter his life, well, dead-life.
“ Are you sure you are ready for a possession though? I don’t feel you have enough energy for it. “ He asks after shaking Alex’s hand, noticing the condition of his current stage isn’t as good as he imagined before their connection.
“Let’s roll with it. I’m probably the best chance you’ve got.” Alex brushes off Charles’s concern for his health. “We’ll start soon. I’m gonna help you free yourself from regrets.”
Even though Alex is still living with his.
“ … Let’s start this tomorrow, I insist. We need to give your body some time to get used to our connection. “
He pats his new human on the shoulder and tried his best to still looks exciting. Like this connection between them only means the possession, nothing more.
But he knows nothing more about it, this is a completely new experience for him too. He has no idea what might happen next.
“both of us need some charging right now. Possession would work the best with a fully rested body. “
And so they slept.
#hamilton#fanfic#ghost au#alexander hamilton#charles lee#college fail#tw: death#tw: self loathing#tw: sucidal thoughts#main character death#afterlife#collab#parental issues
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
fethiyehabermanset
fethiye haber
intrestingone-blog
Ilikeit
novinhasdofunkfan-blog
Sem título
lailoken
𖦹