thedifferencebetween

[If he were in front of her, she might actually try to choke him for that. Through the wild, hysterical laughter, anyway. As it is, Harley nearly puts her fist through her laptop.]

SOMEONE

***SOMEONE***

ME, YOU RUSTBUCKET

oh

yea that wasnt me!

i chop ded ppl up 2 butcher shop sized packages 4 ppl who pay me 2

i dont randomly start chopping up ppl im sleeping with

u wanna give me sum deets, maybe i can figure which slash happy psycho took sum chunks outta u

Do you know any other robots who would chop off MY FUCKING LEG AND REPLACE IT WITH THEIR SPARE

BECAUSE I'M OUT OF ROBOTS I KNOW

spare??? harley i dont have spare body parts lying around

luk can u just tell me EXACTLY wut happened bcuz ive got no clue n im not in the mood to play guess wut with this lack of context hints ur giving me

Oh I'm sorry, did I STUTTER

SOMEONE CHOPPED OFF MY LEG AND WELDED A ROBOT ONE ON IN ITS PLACE

I WOKE UP HALF IN A BATHTUB FULL OF ICE LIKE THEY TOOK MY FUCKING KIDNEY

[There's also her hair- but that's been replaced by something so weird Harley can't even make it come out in words.]

ok thats weird

but it wasnt me, i am way 2 invested in u being in 1 piece and nice 2 me

wuts the last thing u remember?

I don't know! I just went to bed last night and woke up in a horror movie!

There was a bottle of wine involved, but that's not unusual either.

[There's a pause, and then:]

They replaced my hair too.

ok hold up

u woke up with a weird new leg n weird new hair? n its been a month since u got here, rite? n the fogs in?

pretty sure u shud b yelling at old lady foggy

welcome 2 monster puberty!

waitwaitwaitwaitwait

u said robot leg? holy shit, r u a robot 2?!?!?!

WHAT

NO

I DON'T KNOW

Okay but this

No no no, that's horseshit. I thought you just- kind of- changed. Grew eyes in your throat or whatever. This thing definitely got *welded* to me. I can see the line from it.

And if it's the 'fog magic' who the hell dumped me in a bathtub full of ice after????

im sorry, did u think theres sum sort of rule or logic 2 any of this? cuz theres not

my first fog, month after i showed up here? im coming home from a bar, minding my own biz when all of a sudden every single bit of blood in me violently rushes OUT however the hell it cud

then my face fell off

luk where r u? ill come give u a hand

WHAT THE FUCK

[Christ, if she hadn't already thrown up everything in her stomach, that would do it.]

I

Okay look, don't laugh. I been crashing at the 38-8 apartments. It's. A lot smaller than you're used to.

Though I don't know what the hell you can give me a hand with unless you want to help me checkfor fingerprints.

[Gods and fog magic, her entire ass.]

whos laughing? i lived in a shitty duplex my first few months here

im a robot guy. i mean ive been building robots my whole life, i kno the other ppl around who kno robotics so maybe i can help out. offer sum insite

Really?

[It's not that she really doesn't want him here. Her place is just- small, and dingy, and messy. That's totally the reason she's standing in front of her laptop, shifting back and forth with indecision. It's not like she needs him to come over. She could totally say no, and she'd be fine! Well, okay, not fine, but she'd survive.

But- maybe he really could help. She's not sure how, but he might, and that means there's a good reason to invite him over and not just her reaching out for someone. It'll do, as reasons go. Harley leans forward to type the message before she can change her mind.]

Apartment 617.

I mean if you want. If you're not doing anything important.

[Oh god, there's a boy coming over. Harley's freakout at her own goddamned body suddenly takes a backstage to grabbing clothes off the floor to shove them into the teeny space that passes for a closet.]

yea really

its fog time, i do nothing when the fogs in. thats when stuff goes weird. b over soon

[And true to his word, he is. Within an hour, Jack's knocking on Harley's apartment door. He even ducked into a liquor store on the way and picked up an expensive bottle of rum, because monster puberty calls for that sort of thing. It sucks giant bullymong balls and there's no way around it. He's been through it. Literally the same thing.]

[But he can't help but be a little excited that Harley's likely becoming the same thing he is. They already have so much in common, it probably shouldn't be surprising. And it puts him in the excellent position of being able to give advice on How To Be a Bot.]

Open up, babe, the robo-expert's here!

[Harley manages to get the door open, and Jack inside, before she's fully in view; and she's not cowering, or anything like that. It's just that she's still not wearing pants. That's totally the reason.

The apartment is small; a studio, double bed shoved into the corner opposite the nook that barely qualifies as a kitchen. It's dingier than a dorm room; the walls are a faded beige that suggests they were once white. All the furniture is impersonal, sturdy and well-used, with names carved into the wood of the desk, and the stuffing coming out of one arm of the couch. The window above the couch is open; an ashtray and a half-empty glass of wine sit on the sill. The only other mark of anything personal, from the door at least, sits near her laptop; two small plastic figurines, one of a hyena mid-giggle, and the other inexplicably of a beaver wearing a tutu and a tiara. The beaver isn't larger than her thumb.

Harley herself is much more of a spectacle. And it isn't even her leg that catches the eye first. It's her hair.

Gone is the dyed blonde hair that hits about her chin. In it's place is- something else, something thin and fine enough that it could be hair. Tangled and wild, it spreads across her shoulders and down her bad, long enough to hit halfway down to her breasts. It's also lit up, glowing with a steady soft light that seems to come from every strand. Yellow-white up near her scalp, about halfway down it fades to blue and pink, one colour to each side of her face.

The periwinkle blue metal leg coming out from under the hem of her button-down shirt is almost anti-climactic, in comparison. It doesn't gleam smooth and polished, either; the metal is burnished to a shine, but it's made up of irregularly-shaped pieces, the lines black where pieces meet and intersect like a broken vase someone had glued back together. The lines of her knee and toes are clearer, metal sliding against itself like a well-oiled- well- machine. High on her thigh, the tattooed doodles are gone, replaced by the largest single pieces of metal; three pale pink diamonds, an eye-catching contrast to the blue of the rest.

She still hasn't bothered to put on pants.

Harley lifts her hands, when the door is shut behind him. Her jaw is tight, lips pressed into a thin line, and standing, staring at him, her shoulders shift uncomfortably. There's the faintest noise of metal clinking against itself, when she moves.]

Well? Get a good look, I guess.

Edited 2020-09-05 02:35 (UTC)

[Jack lets out a low, long whistling sound as he looks Harley over. He ignores her apartment, for the most part, much more interested in her changes.

Oh yeah. She's a simulacrum, he can tell by the hair alone. That's not organic. He sets the bottle down on the nearest flat surface and circles her, the light in his eyes gleaming brightly.]

I'm looking.

[His gaze moves to her leg, the catalyst for this whole impromptu visit. It's well crafted, articulated...he crouches down to peer closely at the joints and the seams. For once, Jack is focused and serious. There's no idle chatter, no jokes.]

Can you tell if anything's changed inside?

[Even as he asks, he's reaching to nudge her shirt out of the way to get a good look at where the robotic leg joins the rest of her.]

[Harley's not sure what she expected from Jack. Probably that same, easy-going attitude, the one he exuded even when she was capslocking insults at him. If anyone in this miserable, fog-ridden nightmare roller coaster could make her feel better about what was now attached to her hip- and her scalp- it was this man. So the serious attitude catches her off-guard; she blinks, breath catching when he crouches before her, and finds herself tugging the shirt up on that side, letting him inspect her.

The join is right where her thigh meets her hip, high on her leg. It's half-hidden by the black lace of her underwear, but it's obvious on sight; a thin, straight welding seam where flesh meets metal.

His question has Harley swallowing around a suddenly tight throat.] I- inside? [Her stomach lurches, but it's an empty- literally- threat. She presses a hand to it anyway, then slides it up, pressing against her ribs, feeing the muscles in her arm.] I don't- no, I- I don't think so. [Jesus, but what if it has? What if there's nothing but circuitry and wires under her skin?]

Is my face going to fall off?

[She sounds even younger, when she says it; and the look in her eyes isn't anything but fear. Her bluster lasted maybe a minute after he walked into the door. Swell, Harley girl.]

[Jack leans back and tilts his head back further to look up at her.]

Hey, relax, you're okay. And your face probably isn't gonna fall off, that was probably a me thing. I had some face stuff going on before, don't worry about it.

[He stands back up and gently takes her by the shoulders, trying to be reassuring and comforting. He gets it, this is scary as fuck. Having your very self change and mutate without any control over it? The absolute shits.]

Come on, sit down. Good news is...it looks like you've got some quality cybernetics going on! And you've got me, a dude who's been living the mechanical life for a couple of years. I'm gonna get you through this, Harley.

[Her expression goes briefly baffled, mouthing the words some face stuff back at him; but she lets him guide her over to the sofa, the open window showing the foggy view outside. She shouldn't find it as comforting as she does. She doesn't need anyone, especially a boy, to get her through anything. But his hands are solid on her shoulders, and right about now, they feel like the only thing keeping her from flying apart into a million pieces.]

Promise?

[It's almost a whisper, and out of her mouth before she can stop it. Harley blinks; glances away, clearing her throat.] I mean, uh- [Say some, Harley, say anything.] It's- is- is it really quality? Because it looks like someone put it together from scraps.

[Her hair moves, when she looks away; a shift where its caught between Jack's hands and her shoulders. It could be entirely natural; except for how the glowing fiber optic strands almost seem to press up into his touch, a subtle shifting against his palms that can't be explained by a breeze. One lock falls forward over his metal hand, the end starting to curl around the tip of his longest finger.]

But the joints are good, you got a hell of a range of motion, and don't knock scrap metal. Built some of my coolest shit out of scraps.

[He sits with her, putting his arm around her shoulders and giving her a comforting squeeze. It's so much easier to manage being comforting to people he's sleeping with. Or maybe it's just that he can actually relate to this problem. But either way, logically it's in his best interest to be sympathetic and helpful in this situation.]

And here's the biggest thing. That? Yeah, that's metal and everything, but it's a human leg. Not a slinky, not a series of balls, nothing crazy or weird. And these....

[His fingers move a little, lifting the curious strands of fiber optics carefully and turning them slightly to get a better look. Oh, that is just fantastic.]

These are cool as hell. Kinda remind me of my head wires, ya know? So this all points to you being the kind of robot I am, cyborg-type. Hell, you've already got synthetic hair! Which means you aren't likely to have anything weird for a head like a radio or a rubik's cube. And here's the biggest positive for robo-life! We don't eat meat. We take energy from people, no bloody mess or morally struggling with eating hunks of Jim Bob or whoever. We feed clean.

[There's no such hesitation, when he puts his arm around her; Harley curls closer when he does, her leg- her meat leg- tucked up underneath her. The metal one stays out, toes brushing the carpet, where she can keep an eye on it.]

It better have a hell of a range of motion. Getting limbs getting chopped off and replaced is one thing; trading down, I think really might drive me round the ben-

[Her voice stutters and dies when he lifts the strands of fiber optic, rubbing them through his fingers; and for a moment, all Harley cab do is stare at his hand, wide-eyed. Because she can feel it. Not just up in her scalp, like normal hair being played with- which she'd always had a weakness for anyway- but she can actually feel the touch, in each and every fine strand. And it's-]

That's- okay that's weird.

[Her whole mess of bedhead shifts a little towards him, like a faint breeze is running through it. And she can feel that, too.]

That's really- weird.

[Under Jack's close inspection, every hair has a miniscule, pointed metal tip.]

Take it from me, robotics are always a step up.

[Coming from the man who's endgame had always been to transfer his brain into a robotic body.]

But weird! [No argument there. It wasn't like it was ages ago that he changed, Jack still remembers adjusting from flesh and blood to chrome and wires.] Oh yeah, it's weird as hell! Sensation is all different, you might lose some senses - I don't really smell much of anything anymore - and you might end up with no biological functions left. But ya can't look at it as losing something. Ya just traded! I mean look at it this way babe...

[He strokes her synthetic hair lightly, utterly charmed by it. He wonders if they're as mobile and articulate as his own wires, and how strong they are. He bets they're pretty strong.]

You could basically have a whole new usable limb here. I mean, ya know what I can do with my fancy wires....

[He extends his own a little, just a couple of inches, waving the wires almost playfully.]

[The fiber optic strands are much thinner than Jack's wires; in fact they nearly could pass for hair, just a bit coarser. Also the fact that they glow. And Harley almost swoons when he strokes his hand over it; her eyelashes flutter, and she sucks in a slow breath through her teeth. It's like every delicate strand shoots tiny sparks down her spine.

Hell. Maybe it does.]

Hooooly shit, Jack. [A faint flush starts to bloom in her face.] That's- Christ, no wonder you like it so much.

[The idea of trading brings the ghost of a smile to her face; or maybe it's his tentacle wires, waving at her like they're saying hello.] I don't know about that. What'd I use it for, anyway? To hold my beer when I go in for a kiss? [She scoots a little closer, her new metal leg sliding up and over his knee; and Harley reaches to brush her hand through his own wires.] Hey there, boys. Looking good.

Right?

[Jack chuckles, reaching with his free hand to explore her new robotic leg in more tactile detail, running his fingers over her jointed knee. He's honestly never had a chance to really get up close and personal with another sim before. What's he gonna do, start poking at Mini-Jack? She's a friggin kid, that'd be weird. And Zach had never consented to allowing Jack to study him before he vanished.]

And come on...think about it. Practical uses, sexy uses, strangling assholes uses... Harley, you are turning into something that's only gonna make you more badass and tough. Imagine the super cool, freaky robot sex we can have. Imagine walking into a room and knowing everybody in there knows you're one of the most powerful, dangerous things around.

[His own wires wrap around her fingers, sliding between them. He can't express just how awesome it can be to be a robot! Mostly. Sure, there's some...not so great side effects, but she might not even get them so why bring them up? Besides...much as Jack likes her, he's not about to just hand her one of his biggest and easiest to exploit weaknesses.]

And you know I dig metal.

[She can feel his hands on the metal, too, which is somehow even weirder than feeling with her hair. Like, it's metal. How the hell can she feel with it?? But feel she can, from the fabric of the couch under weird skeletal toes to his fingers tracing the seams between the metal plates on her thigh.

And her eyes stay on his, wide and anxious; but the smile tugs wider on her face, lips starting to curl. Until he gets to his last imagining; then, Harley's lips part, drawing in a breath, because she is picturing it. Being taken seriously. Back home, the only thing she's known for is being someone's ex; people look at her and sneer, or laugh, or tell her to sit down and shut the hell up. But to walk in somewhere, and get respect- even a little fear- to have that kind of power-

She's tugging him forward by the wires tangled with her fingers, and her lips catch against his stiff ones. It doesn't even bother her, anymore; she pulls away enough to flick her tongue against his mouth, and when hers makes contact again, lips slide slick over his own.

Some of the hair on one shoulder lifts entirely up, this time; two small locks of it reach for him, brushing against his cheek, his jaw. Harley, eyes closed, doesn't notice.]

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< H.Jack69 >

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< H.Jack69 >

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Re: < H.Jack69 >

< H.Jack69 >

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<GiggleGrrl>

< H.Jack69 >

<GiggleGrrl> - want to move to a log, or keep going here?

We can just switch to action here!

Works for me!

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