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blossomszn · 3 years

Text

Blossomed Lens

Back home, you had always seen your life through one, dull lens. But moving to the beautiful island of Okinawa, Japan, to start the next chapter in your life, helps you to discover new ways of seeing the world. It seems your black and white world may just start to become tainted with pink blossom.

Part 1 - An Escapade in Okinawa

You glare at your reflection in the small bathroom mirror for the last time. Is your hair pinned upright? Are there any visible creases in your blouse? Has your makeup smudged at all?

You know you’re just overthinking. You’re fine.

So walking back into your bedroom to your bed, you sit down and collect together all the documents you need for your interview. Your résumé sits at the top, with a small professional picture of yourself staring back at you. Underneath, is your application, clearly printed in black and white. Lastly, your portfolio.

The job you’re applying for is only a personal assistant position at a Calligraphy studio up to the centre of town. Though, what interests you the most, is the technology involved within the firm. Being a photographer like yourself, art and technology is a pair you’re both very familiar and well equipped with. So seeing the application, you just could not stop yourself to apply.

You’ve been living in Okinawa, Japan for two months now. Ever since you visited the beautiful island on a holiday in your teens with your friends, you made a pact to yourself that you will move to this heavenly island, and take endless pictures of the beautiful landscape scenery that captures its essence.

Of course, leaving behind your friends and family was difficult. But you’re not the type of girl who stays in one place for long. Travelling is what you do, and photography has become an orthodox lifestyle for you. A lifestyle in which makes you happy.

It hasn’t been so hard, the change of scene. Okinawa is just how you remembered it. Paradisiacal beaches, dreamy sunsets, friendly people, delicious food. It makes your hometown look relatively dull. But nothing will beat the excitement of when you first stepped off the plane and was welcomed by the heat of the island, luggage in hand and adventure on your mind.

Because of the size of the Japanese island, your apartment did not cost as much as you thought it would. It’s basic with one bedroom, a living area, a kitchen and a bathroom. Besides, you have been saving for this escapade for three years now, you have a decent amount of money to last you a good eight or nine months. But not only did you save money for three years, but you learnt how to speak and write Japanese too. You’re not completely fluent, but you knew if you wanted to work out here you needed to know the basics. And from what you’ve spoken so far with the locals, your paid courses have come to good use.

Naturally, you want to become a professional photographer as soon as possible. But in order to apply to the best companies on the island, you want to complete your upcoming project; Night Lights of Okinawa. Yes, the island is breathtaking during the day, but the night is just as exhilarating. Thus, after your project is completed and you have experience working on the island, you will set out on your photography career.

But for now, you let your eyes scan over the application for Sakurayashiki Calligraphy once more. It’s a basic personal assistant job. Providing to the needs of the very busy founding director, while maintaining the clientele, and looking after the studio. The pay is what also enticed you. The company must be very wealthy to pay an assistant this much. Actually, out of all the other places you have applied to, this seems like the highest-paid one.

Sliding all of your paperwork safely into your portfolio folder, you grab your phone off of the bedside table and type the studio’s address into maps. It's not long at all, a half-hour walk. You don’t exactly want to take your bike, the fear your ironed down outfit will become creased. Thus, you set out on your half-hour walk.

The walk significantly calms your nerves before the interview. You walk along the stoney lanes with a small smile on your face. Moving to the island still hasn’t set in, so you always catch yourself smiling. People must think you’re a lunatic.

The sun is beating down, it’s a hot day, so you’re relieved to wear a short-sleeved blouse and a long skirt. You’re still not quite sure about the interview clothing requirements here in Japan, so you played it safe making sure your skirt was long enough and your shoes we’re not too high. You even kept your makeup minimal, with some light blush, lip gloss and mascara.

After taking a slightly longer route to walk beside the crystal blue sea, you check your maps to see you have arrived at the building. The outdoor looks very clean, a two-story white building, with varnished wooden panels lining the windows and a sign in Japanese that reads ‘Sakurayashiki Calligraphy’.

This is it. The interview you’re hoping you'll bag.

The butterflies in the pits of your stomach begin to flutter more aggressively. You just hope the founding director is a nice man, and the job is just what you expected it would be.

So taking a deep breath, you step through the floral tainted doors into the Calligraphy studio.

The place smells very clean, with a small hint of cherries. The walls are rich mahogany with golden swirls and patterns painted across. The floor is sparkling varnished wood, and there’s natural light pouring through the vast windows. It really is a grand looking place.

Once you step through the doors, a young woman dressed in a deep purple kimono approaches you immediately and smiles pleasantly at you. “Hello, you must be Evelyn Reader! A pleasure to make your acquaintance” She greets, bowing slightly. You notice she is speaking in English. She must have read your application.

You bow too, letting a graceful smile touch your face “Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you. But please, call me Eva”

“Of course” She smiles “Sakurayashiki-Sama will be with you shortly. Please, take a seat” She smiles, gesturing to the two pristine black chairs by the window. “Would you like any refreshments? Water, tea, some coffee?”

“Just some water, please,” You say, making yourself comfy on the chair.

“Of course. I will be just a moment”

Once the woman has left, you fish in your bag for your portfolio to memorise your résumé. You check over each skill you have listed, each attribute, retaining each bit of information. By the time your water is set on the glass coffee table before you, you feel everything is intact in your brain.

You’ve got this. You’ve had many interviews in the past. This one is no different.

Once ten very long minutes pass by, you hear footsteps coming from the stairs. You direct your eyes to a suited young male making his way towards the door. You spot his briefcase in his hand. He must be another candidate.

The woman immediately gets up from her reception desk and heads over to the male, taking the empty teacup from his grasp and waving goodbye.

You feel even more nervous now. Now you’ve seen another candidate, you just can’t help but compare. He looked very formal. Do you look presentable enough? Perhaps you should have worn those shiny back heels tucked away in your wardrobe? Or put on a brighter shade of lipstick?

No. Don’t overthink, Eva. You have got this.

That’s when an electronic voice echos around the room. Almost like a robot.

“Master Sakurayashiki is now ready for the next candidate” It speaks. You look over towards the young woman on the desk and see a faint purple glow illuminating her face. Is this the famous AI technology you have read about on their website?

“Thank you Carla” The woman responds, sitting up from her desk and directing her gaze onto you.

“Sakurayashiki-Sama will see you now. If you would like to follow me” She smiles warmly. Your heart suddenly jolts at that. You feel your hands go slightly clammy as you hold tightly onto the portfolio in your grip. You hope you don’t get the folder all sweaty, that would be embarrassing.

You follow the receptionist up the stairs in which the male candidate came from, and walk along another mahogany corridor. At the end, you reach a tall door. Delicately written across a wooden plate attached to the door, are the words ‘桜屋敷スタジオ’ Kaoru Sakurayashiki’s Studio.

“You can walk straight in,” She says, gesturing to the wooden door before you.

Pushing the door forward, you step foot into a large space. The walls are the same style, if not with more gold patterns accompanying the deep red. The floor however is different, with a mix of light and dark purple tatami mats. To the far side of the wall is black shelving, with glittering awards and rich ornaments. And in the middle of the shelving is a large black plaque with what you assume is an example of Sakurayashiki’s work. Next to the shelving, sits a man at a dark wooden table.

Immediately hearing your entrance, he rises from the table to greet you. He’s dressed in navy blue traditional Japanese clothing. Although what catches your eye most of all is his vibrant pink hair, tied to the side in a messy ponytail. His eyes are a piercing golden yellow, and they shine in the daylight’s sunbeams.

You have to admit, he is a very handsome man. That makes your interview much worse, doesn’t it? That the man who will possibly be your boss if you do get the job, is incredibly good looking? Snapping back to reality and focusing on the matter at hand, you smile warmly at the man.

“Evelyn Reader it’s a pleasure to meet you” He smiles, holding out a delicate hand for you to shake.

You hope your hand is not too shaky as you extend it to touch with Sakurayashiki’s. “It’s lovely to meet you too. But please, call me Eva” Your voice comes out a lot more confident than you thought it would. That’s a relief.

“Ok, Eva, if that is what you prefer” He smiles “Please, take a seat over here” He announces. You notice how he is also speaking in English. He knows it well, speaking very formally.

“Thank you” You smile, making your way to the opposite side of the table. You sit down on the purple tatami mat and find it is very comfortable. Putting your bag beside you, you place the black folder on the table.

“Thank you for taking the time to visit today. I assume you found our studio well?” He asks. The way he is looking intently into your eyes is making you suddenly come over all nervous again. So you place your hands tightly in your lap to stop you from fidgeting.

“Yes, I did. It’s not too far from my apartment actually. Just a half-hour walk” You respond.

“I see, that is quite fortunate” Sakurayashiki hums. “What is your résumé profile?” He asks.

As soon as the question escapes his lips, a small black disc in the middle of the table lights up, with a purple C illuminating at the top of the beam.

“Evelyn Reader. Age twenty-two. Nationality, English” The robotic female voice speaks from the small black disc. It’s the very same voice that spoke downstairs to the receptionist. The technology picked up his question so easily? Extraordinary.

“Thank you Carla” Sakurayashiki smiles happily. You assume this piece of technology must be the man's pride and joy. He even gave it a name. “It appears you are from England. Whatever made you decide to move to such a reserved island to the south of Japan?” He asks.

“I actually visited Okinawa back as a teenager on a holiday. Since then, I have been dying to come back and potentially move here permanently. And well, after getting my degree at University I wanted a change of scene, so I decided to go for it. I have been living here for two months now, I spent them making the most of the island and exploring all around but now I think it’s time I settled down into a new role” Once you finish you take a small breath. You feel you did quite well with your explanation. You hope you’re exactly what Sakurayashiki is looking for.

“You are quite right, the island is indeed beautiful. I’m glad you’re enjoying it here. What is it you did at university in England?” He questions.

You pause for just a second. You feel a little dumbfounded now. You’re not sure which questions he is asking you and which he is asking the AI Carla. A few seconds later when the technology doesn’t light up again, you respond. “I did a degree in photography. I feel I have a very creative spark, and I did a lot of the arts all through school and through University. I paint and draw in my spare time, I am very skilled with editing softwares such as Photoshop, Illustrator and Indesign. And of course, photography” You explain.

“Naturally someone with a creative spark is exactly what we need for this position. Although most of your work will be assisting when you can around the studio, it is still important you have a keen eye for the arts” He says.

“Yes, well in my portfolio here," You say, gesturing to the black folder before you. “My work ranges from photography photos to fine art pieces, and I paint in my spare time too. I have also learnt Japanese Hiragana, which I feel I am quite skilled in at this point. So if by any means you need assisting in the calligraphy side of things, I am no stranger to the paintbrush. My experience as you will see from my résumé, I worked in an art studio back at University. It was my mothers, she is a professional painter. That is where I picked up most of my artistic skills”

All the while you talk Sakurayashiki sits and listens. You try your best to hold his gaze while you speak. But you can’t help but feel horribly nervous when you do. You find yourself saying subconsciously again, why does he have to be so darn handsome?

“That’s interesting to hear. My mother too is a professional painter, and it is where I refined my skills also" He smiles "It seems you have the creative persona we are looking for. Do you mind if I take a look at your portfolio?” Sakurayashiki asks.

“Oh really? That’s funny” You smile. “And of course, here” You slide the black folder towards him.

“Thank you,” He says. He opens it first on the photography page, examining the glossy pictures inside. He is quiet for a moment as he flicks through. He then looks through your paintings, and finally your written Hiragana. “Your work is something special. I can see you definitely have that creative spark you was talking about. What is your favourite piece?” He asks, with his eyes still on your work.

Hm. No one has ever asked you that. You take a moment to have a think before answering “If I had to pick one, including my paintings, I would have to say my photograph of the eerie-looking forest. I took it last year when I was on holiday in the Lake District in the UK with my friends. Even though it was summer, it was raining the whole time we were there. But the shot was so chilling and almost sinister from the gloomy colours and the dark undertones. And with the rain, I just feel it completes the picture. It’s almost like a shot taken from a horror movie…” you realise you have been rambling so much about a single photograph you instantly stop yourself. “Sorry I do love that piece as you can see” You smile awkwardly.

Sakurayashiki smiles. “No do not apologise. I can see how passionate you are about your work and that is very important. I enjoyed listening. That is why I asked you, is it not?” He says. “I particularly like this painting here myself” He hums, tilting the folder slightly towards you. The painting he chose was a self-portrait from a project back in sixth form when you was eighteen. It’s an old one, but it’s very colourful and was inspired by a retro styled artist.

Although once it sinks into your brain that it is indeed a self-portrait he has picked out and right now your eyes are staring back at you, you can’t help a slight blush rise to your cheeks. “Oh… thank you. That’s quite an old one from back at school” You say, tightening your grip onto your pencil skirt. At this point, you don’t care if the thing gets creased. You’re too god damn nervous again.

“It’s different from the others in here. A lot brighter, and more vibrant in colour” He comments, closing the folder to slide back to you. “Now you mentioned earlier that you have learnt the Japanese language which is very impressive, how long did it take you?” He asks.

You feel your mouth has turned incredibly dry, so you take a sip of your water before answering “I visited Okinawa when I was Nineteen. So about three years. However, whenever I do get the chance, I continue to practice”

“Excellent. It’s nice to see someone motivated in learning the language now that they’re over here. A lot of people tend to stick with the basics” He sighs “Now of course a requirement on the application is to speak moderately in Japanese. You will be handling our clients after all. So Miss Reader tell me, what makes you the ideal candidate for the role?”

Sakurayashiki continues to ask you standard interview questions after that. What your skills are, your strengths and weaknesses, your greatest achievement, where you see yourself in five years. You answer each one in detail, and precisely, all the while taking sips at your water to give yourself time to think of the best way to answer.

“And when is it Miss Reader that you can start with us if you were to be hired for the position?” Sakurayashiki asks.

“Well, straight away” You smile.

What you did notice throughout the entire interview was that Sakurayashiki did not once write down your responses to any of his questions. But then again, this is a man with exceptional technology, it would not surprise you if the AI Carla is recording everything for him.

“That’s great. Well, I believe that is everything from me” He smiles “Is there anything you wish to ask?”

“Yes, there is actually. On the application, it states there will be a requirement for travelling. What does this entail?” You ask.

“Of course. We often have a lot of events and talks in which we need to be present and I will require a lot of your assistance. Though I do believe it will be good experience for you. I also have regular meetings with our clientele, and it would be ideal to have you there to note everything down for me, as well as get to know them formally. I would expect at least once a week you will be away from the studio”

“I see that sounds good. I was hoping for a bit of travelling in my next position” You smile.

“Well, it’s lucky you found this position” He responds with another warm smile.

“Yes, it is”

“Is there anything else you wish to ask me before we end this interview?” He asks.

You think it over. You feel you know everything that you need to. And your mother always says at least one question is always enough at the end of an interview. Too many will overwhelm the interviewer. “No that is all”

“Perfect” Sakurayashiki stands then, patting down his kimono. “Thank you again for meeting with me today. I will have Hina on reception give you a call by tomorrow morning to let you know if you are successful”

“Thank you for the opportunity Sakurayashiki-sama" You smile "I will look forward to the call” You extend your hand to shake with Sakurayashiki’s once more.

Once you’re outside the wooden doors you pause just a moment before you head downstairs. There's a feeling deep down inside you, one that you don’t want to admit. But you covertly hope you get the job just so you can get to know Sakurayashiki himself. He seems like a very interested man… well, by interesting you probably mean good looking.

No, stop being so shallow, you think. You shake your head to rid of the ridiculously unprofessional thoughts before walking back down the stairs. Heading for the door, the receptionist Hina says goodbye and gives you a wave.

On your way home, you take a little detour and head to a nearby park. It’s still a beautiful day, and you feel you’re getting a little hot in your blouse and long pencil skirt. Even though you look around and see the locals walking by in jeans and sweatshirts, you’re still not used to a warmer climate. You smile to yourself again. You do not miss the English weather one bit. Looking in your bag for your DSLR camera (you never leave your apartment without it). You carefully take off the lens disc and begin to set it up.

Lens correction off, Landscape mode on.

Luckily you did not have to do much adjusting as you’ve only been taking scenery pictures lately.

So making yourself comfortable on the green grass and closing your left eye, you look through the camera lens and focus your sights on two elegant cherry blossom trees ahead of you. It’s the middle of Spring, so the colours are brilliantly vivid and the blossom is in perfect bloom. But for some strange reason, before you click the shutter button, a particular face comes into your mind.

A certain someone with pink, blossom coloured hair.

You shake off the thought quickly. You’re thinking of that man now? Stop being so weird Eva, you probably won’t get the job and see him ever again.

So ignoring the face in your mind, you focus your open eye on the two trees. Once you adjust the focus manually with delicate fingers and take a deep intake of breath to avoid a shaky picture, you click the shutter. You zoom in, zoom out. Angle both portrait mode and landscape. The photos come out perfectly by the time you finish.

You can’t wait to get home and edit these on Photoshop. You just know with the right adjustments, the photo will look even better. Perhaps something you can add to your portfolio.

The next scene you focus your lens on is a full landscape view of the park. There aren’t many people in the park being three o’clock on a weekday, so the shot is mostly the greenery and blooming flowers.

You spend another half hour walking around the field, taking shots of every inch. You snap pictures of the tweeting birds in the trees, the strikingly bright Kaneshon flowers, you even take a snap of an urban looking view of the buildings surrounding the green space.

Once you feel satisfied enough, you decide to head back to your small apartment and spend the evening cooking a basic vegetable stir-fry meal, watching sitcoms on Netflix, and editing your photos in bed until you drift off into a pleasant sleep.

You wake up to the ringing sounds of your phone alarm the next morning. You made sure to be up early just in case the calligraphy studio calls. So hopping out of bed you stretch your arms and freshen up in the bathroom. You wonder to yourself what to do today. You could plan your next trip across the island to another scenic spot, as small as the island is there is still so much you haven’t explored yet. You still haven’t tried out a Hot Springs yet. Perhaps that is something you can do today?

So walking out the bathroom with a little bounce in your step, you pull your laptop out from under your bed and get to work on searching for a nearby Hot Springs. After some searching for a few minutes on the world wide web, you note the closest one is at least a twenty-minute drive. Well, all you have is a bike so that will at least take double that. You don’t think you have the stamina to cycle for forty minutes.

You decide to search for the best option for public transport instead. Two buses.

"Hm, that's not bad at all" you hum to yourself.

You make sure to screenshot every part of your route, before sending the pictures to your phone.

You decide to go just before midday, ensuring you have a large breakfast beforehand. You put your laptop away back under your bed when your phone suddenly starts ringing. Your heart immediately jumps into your mouth.

"Oh jheeze ok. This is it" you say nervously.

As expected you didn’t recognise the number on the front. So clearing your voice with a cough, you answer the phone.

“Hello, am I speaking to Eva Reader? This is Hina here at Sakurayashiki Calligraphy” The polite female voice speaks from the other line. You note she is talking in Japanese this time. Perhaps Sakurayashiki informed her of your Japanese? You wonder.

“Hello Hina yes you are, how are you?” You respond in Japanese.

“I am very well thank you, are you well?” She asks.

“Yes thank you”

“Perfect. I firstly want to say on behalf of Sakurayashiki-Sama, thank you for applying to the position, and taking the time to visit us here at Sakurayashiki Calligraphy”

“No, thank you for the opportunity. It was nice to meet Sakurayashiki and see his wonderful work” You respond.

“I am sure he will be happy to hear that,” She says. There is a little pause. Even though it's silent, you are sure you can hear your heavy heartbeat thumping in your ribcage.

“I also want to congratulate you on being accepted as Sakurayashiki-Sama’s new personal assistant. He was very happy with how your interview went, and you are exactly the candidate he was looking for!” She says brightly.

You don’t think it is possible to smile even wider. You want to squeal and jump up on the bed. But of course, you do your best to stay put. “Thank you so much! That’s fantastic I am so happy”

Hina can hear you grinning. “As you should be! You did very well, in fact, Sakurayashiki-Sama even mentioned how well put together your portfolio was, he was very impressed. He hasn’t seen such a range of artistic work from a candidate before”

“Oh really? That’s amazing! I am so happy he liked my work. Thank you again for this opportunity!” You exclaim with a grin still fixed to your face.

“You’re very welcome! Sakurayashiki-Sama informed me that you will be available to start right away, is that so?”

“Yes, that is” you respond.

“Perfect, would you be able to start tomorrow? It will be a shorter shift than your desired hours, from 10 am until two. And it will just be the two of you going through your everyday role and the contract. Does this time work for you?”

“Yes, that’s great. I read on the application that it is required to wear traditional Japanese clothing for the role. Would this be needed for tomorrow?” You ask. You suddenly think to yourself that you don’t have any kimono lying around… perhaps you should have invested in one as soon as you moved here.

“Yes if that is possible, though it's not vital. As long as you wear the required clothing on your official first day, which will be in two days. Also, the colours we are required to wear are darker than usual. Just nothing too bright, and no patterns!” Hina replies.

“Ok, that all sounds fine thank you! I haven’t brought a kimono before so this should be exciting. I will look forward to coming back tomorrow”

“Oh, you will do just fine! The shops are all very accommodating here, they will be able to help you pick one out. One last thing, please remember to bring a form of identification so we can scan it through our system”

“I’m sure they will everyone has been lovely so far. And I will do. Thank you again!” You say.

“No worries. Have a great day Eva and we will see you tomorrow!”

“Bye!” You say, before hanging up. You sit still on your bed for just a moment, taking in the phone call you just had moments ago. Then, with a beaming wide smile on your face, you leap up.

“Wooo!” You shout, jumping up and down in excitement. You can’t believe your first interview here on the island, you’ve managed to bag the job. And the very job which pays exceptionally well. You just can’t believe it.

Once you’ve calmed down from the excitement, you think to yourself. You are a little surprised you got it if you’re being honest with yourself. You’re fairly sure there must have been professional calligraphers going for the position. But they chose you. He chose you.

The sudden thought of the pink-haired man makes the butterflies in your stomach begin again. You know it’s only because he’s attractive, and you’re not going to lie to yourself anymore, you are a tiny bit excited to see him again tomorrow.

Well, he is your boss now. You assume you will be working closely with him.

“Ok enough Eva, no more swooning over your new boss” You scold to yourself out loud, shaking your head again.

You’re going to have to make a rule. No thinking lustfully over your boss for longer than… ten seconds a day. No too much, five seconds.

This will not be easy.

You can find a full list for each part linked here. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 anime #sk8 cherry blossom #kaoru sakurayashiki #kaoru x reader #kaoru sakurayashiki x reader #cherry blossom x reader #sk8 cherry #sk8 kaoru #kaoru sakurayashiki x y/n #reader insert #fanfiction #anime fanfic #fanfic #sk8 #fluff #angst #sk8 the infinity fic #sk8 fanfic

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jcmorrigan · 3 years

Note

Consider, blakeworther dealing with children. Whether they adopted a child or are babysitting for some reason

Oh. Okay. So I haven’t even thought about this but this prompt is so entertaining that I’m gonna do this off the top of my head right now.

What I will say is I can’t see them adopting kids. You know what I can see? I’m kinda hopping on the bandwagon for Draco/Vanora (not like super OTP, but it’s cute, I can get behind it, love all the art/fic of it, I don’t see any reason not to). So even though I’m SURE this story is not going to resolve in such a way that everyone is alive and friends at the end, we’re going to pretend it will and Dranora have two children, who I’m calling Kiddo (an elementary schooler) and Moody (a teenager). Anyway there’s some emergency that requires Draco to put his children in the hands of his brother/cyborg clone (reveal pending) and Vanora’s like “Are you sure about this” and Draco’s just “No. No I am not. But I’m desperate.”

AND HERE’S HOW IT GOES

-First things first, Kiddo and Moody aren’t allowed to do a damn thing until their schoolwork is done.

-Albert: “Because being the smartest person in your class will offer you unlimited power.” Vincent: “Because some asshole is going to beat you to being smartest in the class and you need to catch up. Don’t be like me.”

-Victor is trying to convince them to let the kids have some fun but NO! ACADEMICS!

-Victor ends up sneaking them some cookies under the table so it’s not all boring.

-Kiddo reveals they have a hard time with math and you can hear a pin drop as we shift into OH NO mode

-Albert: “I can help with - “ Vincent: “YOU PUT THOSE FLASHCARDS AWAY. WE’RE NOT DOING THIS”

-Homework finally finishes. Vincent then puts Kiddo in front of the television and Moody in front of their computer and calls it DONE.

-(It’s not done.)

-Albert ends up watching marathon-length kids’ programming with Kiddo and getting more into it than Kiddo is. And then being creepy. For example: “What do you think Big Bird would taste like flambé?” “Clifford the Big Red Dog would make an excellent tool to overthrow the state if properly weaponized.” “You know, all this Cliff Hanger nonsense in that lion show would be easily resolved if somebody just stomped on his hand so he would fall off the cliff.”

-At some point Victor has to come barging in to kick over the Solo cups that he’s setting up because WE’RE NOT DOING THIS

-Meanwhile, Moody swears at their computer. Vincent sighs; “If I ask you what’s wrong, will you be quiet?”

-Moody: “There’s this bitch in my class who keeps making fun of me online and it really hurts my feelings.”

-Vincent: “...Hang on.”

-An hour later and Vincent has set up five different sockpuppet accounts on an AI script to doxx Moody’s bully. Because if anybody knows how to commit REVENGE, it’s Vincent

-While he’s plugging away at Moody’s social accounts, Victor pulls Moody aside into the bar. “So. If you’re curious about liquor or smoking, you can try ANYTHING in this room and I won’t tell your parents”

-Moody is sixteen and comes out of that room drunk as a skunk. Possibly also high.

-But it gets them sleepy so that’s ONE KID IN BED; ONE TO GO

-Albert: “I can get the small one sleepy if you just let me use dream - “ Vincent and Victor: “NO”

-Meanwhile Kiddo is on Albert’s desk playing with his red phone because let’s face it, that thing looks like a toy. They accidentally manage to call some Eldritch dimension before Vincent comes running in “PUT THAT DOWN”

-So cue all three guys sitting around going...what are you supposed to do to make a kid sleepy? Aren’t there rules about this?

-Oh yeah, you’re supposed to read bedtime stories to a small child

-Cue Vincent ending up sitting on the side of kiddo’s bed and trying to read them The Count of Monte Cristo. It isn’t received well.

-Lullabies are a thing, right?

-Victor goes in to softly sing kiddo to sleep and it works! He’s actually got a nice voice; he just doesn’t really enjoy singing in public that much.

-Vincent is all mumbly, “You sing well”

-Both offspring are asleep! Finally! Three tired temporary dads slump down on the couch downstairs.

-The peace only lasts so long. Kiddo comes hurtling down the stairs bawling. “I HAD A REALLY BAD NIGHTMARE ABOUT THE SKINNY BLACK CREATURES WITH WHITE SKULL FACES”

-Slloooowwwwwly Vincent and Victor turn to look at Albert. Albert is smiling very nervously.

-“Before you make any accusations, I want you to know this one wasn’t my - “ “ALBERT GERALD KRUEGER WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO”

-Kiddo’s mood is improved because they’ve never heard THAT word before

-So now you have a small child running around the manor yelling “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

-Albert: “Okay, but you two did THAT”

-Now all three of them have to watch even more television with Kiddo until they get sleepy again...which...Kiddo doesn’t

-Kiddo suddenly notices that Victor’s arms are metal. “How did you lose your real arms?”

-Victor is just broken by this point so he goes “The creatures you saw in your nightmares ripped them off when I was your age because I didn’t go to sleep and also I said bad words”

-Kiddo ZOOMS upstairs, locks themself in their room, doesn’t come out

-VICTORY!

-Draco and Vanora come back to the house to find their eldest having a hangover and their youngest screaming “I COULDN’T SLEEP ALL NIGHT! THE BAD THINGS WILL RIP OFF MY ARMS! FUCK!” and Draco realizes they probably would’ve been better off dropping the kids in the Myers front lawn and letting them clean random stuff with Dino for the last twelve hours

#vincent edgeworth #victor blake #albert krueger #blakeworther #vincent the secret of myers #vtsom #therapy with dr. albert krueger #twdak #this one was so fun nonnie #i was laughing at myself writing the whole thing up #thank you for giving me this hypothetical

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paragonrobits · 3 years

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A friend asked me to give a stab at a Tierlist Maker for Video Games Not Yet In the Video Game Hall of Fame Tier List Maker, so here's my list for it!

This is based primarily on what I considered to be overall value to gaming history as a whole, with games with greater influence or impact ranking higher than those that had less impact on those to follow, or on culture. All the entries are those that have been nominated to the Hall of Fame, but not actually inducted as of this post's writing. Games that I personally like are generally rated higher, though mostly because I'm more familiar with them and thus can judge their impact from a personal POV.

(Tier List explainations, below!)

SHOULD BE IN ALREADY

Final Fantasy: I mean seriously. How is this one not already in yet?? It is not, as my research suggests, the first true RPG; that likely goes to games like Ultima. It is certainly an incredibly influential one; FF is a name closely associated with JRPGs in general, and its diverse class system is one of the strongest things to do with it, as noted by challenges like beating the game with a party of Black Belts. FF is THE name of RPGs in general and I'm startled it hasn't made it in, though I suppose that's owing to more notable entries (Hard as that is to imagine). It doesn't hurt that the majority of my favorite FF titles are those most similar to this one, such as FF6 and FF9, in terms of approaching the general world setting and class systems. Most significantly is that this game popularized RPGs and made them accessible, in ways that previous games such as Dragon Warrior/Dragon Quest did not; the field of gaming would be VERY different without it; RPGs became VERY popular, to the extent of RPG elements being almost universal among other games in the modern day. (I am also pleased and amused to see 8-Bit Theater mentioned on the actual Wikipedia page. Now THAT'S notability!)

Sid Meir's Civilization: HEY NOW HALL OF FAME JUDGES, DON'T YOU BE MOCKING CIV, ALRIGHT. CIV IS FUCKING AWESOME. Okay, jokes aside, I'm genuinely astonished as the Civ series is considered the first true main game of the 4x series, and it shows; the entire genre centers around expansion, resource usage and diplomacying or conquering your enemies, and considering the impact of this game and its sheer popularity, to the extent of the meme of the game getting people to play for Just One More Turn, I'm a bit disappointed that it's not already in the hall of fame. I also note that I am personally more familiar with the spin off Alpha Centauri, a sci fi variant, which is still one of my all time favorite games.

Half-Life: Given this game's popularity, to the point of its release alone consigning the likes of Vampire the Masquerade Bloodlines to cult classic status and its engine spawning a whole THING with GMod and the usage of physics mechanics in FPS games, one thing of note is its use of scripted sequences; at the time, an unknown in most games of the time. There may be something to be said for how the entire game is spent as Gordon Freeman, behind his eyes, possibly engendering a lack of separation between self and character that would be later emphasized in games like Bioshock. It's influence on games cannot be denied, with publications using it as a bookend between eras of gaming. One consistent element of what seems to make this game so distinctive is its approach to storytelling, without simply imitating film techniques which don't always work well with gameplay.

Candy Crush: This is an example of something I don't personally play myself, or even like very much, but I'd be remiss to dismiss it out of hand. There's no denial that phone games are one of, if not THE biggest market of games in the here in now; if now in scale, certainly in quantity. You might call it the TF2 Hat Economy theory; people aren't spending BIG bucks, but they are spending a LOT of little bucks all the time. It proves that highly accessible games that are generally free to play, with optional purchases, are a legitimate means of game business, and this certainly revolutionized how games were seen by the money-makers.

Super Smash Bros Melee: I loved this game as a kid, but truth be told i have a bit of a love-hate relationship; i REALLY dislike the competitive community that has fixated hard on this game, so any thoughts on it will have a slight element of pause beforehand. Even so, I can't forget the thrilled delight I felt watching the trailer for this game in supermarkets for the first time as a kid. at a time when getting any new games at all was a HUGE deal in my family. So, there is a lot of feeling behind this one! Ultimately, I have to concede that while i have complicated feelings about this game, its worth noting that the vast majority of things that made Smash iconic, and influenced the competitive scene AND the games inspired by Smash AND shaped the course of the series going forwards, largely owe themselves to Melee in particular. 64 was far more slow paced, while Melee began the trend towards much more fast paced action (and while I doubt it's SPECIFIC to melee as a whole, it may have been a trend for the genre from then). Melee is STILL widely played, especially on the competitive scene, and this sort of longevity always bears evidence of notability.

Goldeneye 007: I have to admit that despite being a kid in the 90s, despite someone who put most of their time into gaming, and despite being someone whose favorite system at the time was the Nintendo 64, I mostly missed out on the trend of history by honestly not being that much into this game. I have to say that I DID play it, however; I just never managed to get past the first level or so. I have strong memories of triyng and failing to sneak around a snowy lair of some description; it wouldn't be until the mid-2000s, playing Deus Ex Human Revolution, that I got the hang of stealth. All the same, personal indifference really doesn't matter much because HOLY SHIT THIS GAME HAS SOME STAYING POWER. IT HAS INFLUENCE, FRIENDORITOS. Perhaps chiefly, at the time it was made, consoles were not considered viable platforms for first person shooters; Goldeneye revised that notion, and created a whole revolution in multiplayer and shooter games. We would later see the ultimate consequence of this in games like Halo, which further revolutionized the whole genre. Ironically, the stealth attributes I was so bad at were part of what made the game so unique! It's one of those games that may not have aged well, by modern standards, but its import to gaming as a whole goes a long, long way.

Guitar Hero: I expect this one might be a bit hard to justify, but on its own, this game is INCREDIBLY innovative, though its not entirely the first of its kind, having mechanics based on earlier games. The very first entry has a respectable library of 30 songs, which is impressive considered at the time it was made, its not likely people expected it to get as far as it did; bear in mind that the massive libraries of later games were the result of years of this game series being a massive steamroller of a franchise! At the time, this one was an unknown. It has an interesting history as being a successor of sorts to an arcade exclusive, and inspiring a genre of imitators and spiritual successors on its own; of great note is the sheer impact this game had. With so many of those successors, the increased value of liscened soundtracks, and the way the game's concept became so influential, its astounding this one isn't already on the hall of fame. (It's also very fun, but fun alone doesn't make for memorability, sad to say.)

DESERVES IT AT SOME POINT

Myst - an iconic and incredibly atmospheric puzzle game, I'm genuinely surprised that I haven't heard talk about this one in some respect; it bears note as a rare game with absolutely no conflict whatsoever. I actually rank this one on par with the 7th Guest in terms of atmospheric games, though their tones could not be more different. So why do I think this game deserves it at some point? It was an incredibly immersive and beautiful game, lacking in genuine danger or threat, encouraging the player to explore and tackle the puzzles of the game. This sort of open-ended lack of peril makes it an interesting precursor towards certain flavors of sandbox games around now. It's worth noting that it was a tremendous achievement, given technical limitations of things such as the CD-Rom it was stored on, maintaining a consistent experience, as well as tying narrative reasons into those very constraints. It has been compared to an art film; if so, it certainly is the sort that invited imitators and proved to be a great technical achievement.

Portal: PORTAL! What can I honestly say that hasn't already been said by other people? The amazing integration of a physics engine into innovative puzzle solving, combined with a slow burn sort of minimalist plot reveal concerning the AI proving itself to be a kind of reverse HAL 9000? This game got a HUGE number of memes back in the day, and I expect anyone reading this can probably reference a few. The cake thing, certainly, and its relevance to matters of deception. There is much discussion over the game's utility in academic circles, which is certainly quite notable, and for my part, I'm interested by the point that at first the game gives you a lot of hints towards what you're supposed to do, gradually making it less obvious for the player you're on your own entirely, using your experience with the game to get past the puzzles from there, and its excellent game design. Ultimately though, I place this below Half Life in hall of fame urgency, because while I probably like this one more, it doesn't have the same impact on other games, per say. (That's a lot of awards for it, though. Wowza.)

Resident Evil: Is it fair to call this one the major survival horror game of its era? No, because it's apparently the FIRST, or at least the first to be called such. It's certainly up there with shaping the genre as a whole, both its immediate predecessors and modern games. The flavor of a survival horror can even be judged about whether its close to Resident Evil's style of defending yourself with limited resources vs controlled helplessness. It's also worth pointing out that I quite like the restricted, cramped setting of the mansion, rather than an expansive city; Biohazard was a real return to form, even if its something I mostly watched through funny lets plays because OH NO ITS TOO SCARY I CANT WATCH.

Asteroids: It's called the first major hit of the golden age of the arcade. I'm forced to say... yeah, it absolutely deserves it. The actual implementation and hardware of the game makes for interesting reading, and so its innovative nature ought to be noted: it lacked a soundchip at all, making use of handmade circuits wired to the board. It's reception was great, beating out Space Invaders and needing larger boxes just to hold all the money people spent on it. It also invented the notion of tracking initials on the top ten score, which has implications for arcade challenges.

Ms. Pac Man: This one consistently ranks HIGH in gaming records of its time, though there is admittedly some confusion to whether it or Donkey Kong was a better seller. Interestingly it appears to shape most of the gameplay mechanics people remember most for Pac-Man, such as the improved AI of the ghosts. It's more highly regarded than the original game, and on a personal note, I remember being a kid and seeing this arcade machine at ALL the laundry places my family usually wound up going to.

Frogger: It's placing on this list is not solely because CUTE FROG. The accessibility and wide appeal of the game bears a great deal of consideration, the flexibility of its formula, and just how many dang times it's been ported in one form or another. (And also, cute frog.) It also gets points for the creator being inspired for the game when he saw a frog trying to cross a road, hampered by the vehicles in the way, and he got out of his car and carried the frog across the street. The game is also evident of broad appeal, and some money-makers resisting it, goes back a long way; it was apparently dismissed as a kid's game by some, which just goes to show that some problems are older than quite a lot of gamers alive today.

Uncharted 2: this is one of those games where I cannot honestly say I have personal experience to draw from. Of the playstation's big games, I remember the Jak and Daxter series; I remember Kingdom Hearts, and I remember Ratchet and Clank, and I remember Infamous, but the Uncharted series remains

something of a 'I don't go here?' obscurity in my personal playbook. It does look memorable and charming from what I've seen, and one consistent element I've seen in comments about it is the cinematic nature of the game; it feels very much like a fun heist movie, based on what I have seen of it, and the notable thing is how the game FEELS cinematic.. in a literal way. As in, it combined elements of cinematography with game design, and that's no mean feat: what works for movies are unlikely to translate well to the interactive side, and it shows how that can be done for other games. The extensive praise does the game a LOT of credit!

WORTH NOMINATION AT LEAST

Angry Birds: As noted before, I'm not the biggest fan of most phone games, given that i prefer a more passive experience than most provide. As such, Angry Birds isn't something I've played as of this writing, but I have to appreciate the straightforward and simple gameplay; it reminds me a bit of the Burrito Bison game series, which I HAVE played, and I'm going to go out on a limb and assume it's because Angry Birds is probably the innovation that coined that particular style of gameplay. It's an example of what made phone games profitable and worth the time of developers to work at them; its easy for casual players to get into, and there's a fun sort of impact involved. Given the popularity of phone games, this one has a LOT of influence in getting that rolling, similar to candy crush, if not as much.

FIFA International Soccer: Simulation games are a tricky business; it can be really difficult to get them right, and this game provides an example of it being done in a way that a lot of people REALLY loved, set up an entire game series, and revived the 3DO system after a very bad year. Of note, apparently it was commented that it was more of a simulator than a console game, and this is rather funny considering how simulator is its own genre nowadays! Such do things change. It seems to have been a revolutionary game and simulation; setting the shape for modern sport games of its type, and tending more towards realism (accounting for acceptable breaks in reality) than was typical of the time. This one's position is thus picked for its impact as a whole; while it may not necessarily be a household name now, the series continues on, and is popular enough that even after 20 years, it's still been going.

Elite: I nominate this game in this position for being a startlingly early entry into what we would now consider open-ended games, even with an element of exploration and trading; if one stretches definitions a bit, a precursor towards gameplay of the like scene in 4X players who strive to avoid conflict, if possible. Its technical breakthroughs are some very interesting reading and make for good game history; a vast and complex game (not just by the standards of the era, either), and opening the door for persistent world games such as World of Warcraft.

Wii Sports: A significant game, and much as how other titles mentioned above were famed for gateway entries into gaming for an unfamiliar audience, or those that would want o play on a more casual basis. It seems notable to me for being most suited as a family game, or a more casual experience of multiplayer than usually associated with games like this; this has greatly influenced Nintendo's design philosophy, and one can see elements of this all the way through the Wii U onwards. It's essentially a fliparound from Mario Party; less competitiveness, but definitely meant as a group thing. Controversy is evident, because like with Mario Party, injuries did result from it.

Call of Duty: I place this one here because, while it DOES hold a very significant role in gaming history, with countless imitators, spiritual successors, being a game-changer in ways that its modern reputation might surprise you with, ultimately it is less so than other games such as Goldeneye, Halo or Half-Life. It's development in AI pathfinding and tactics is incredibly noteworthy from a mechanical perpsective, and the sheer level of awards it won is notable. In the end this game's popularity and continuing influence means that it shouldn't be overlooked.

Metroid: You can't spell 'Metroidvania' without this game! A relatively open ended exploration-based game with further options opening as new tools were found give it an interesting vibe, and the oppressive atmosphere distinctive to the game says great things about its sound and level designs. It wasn't the first open world game, or explorer, or even the first to open new aereas based on equipment, but it had ALL of these elements in a very memorable package. (Samus Aran as a female protagonist is something I'm a bit reluctant to give it credit for, as her identity was obfuscated for most of the game, and only revealed in a fanservicey way in a secret ending. All the same, credit where it is due, I suppose!) It's music seems to endure as a mood setter, too!

Pole Position: Perhaps not the FIRST racing game, but still considered one of the most important from the golden age of gaming, and the one to codify many of the firm rules of the game series. It's three dimensional gameplay is incredibly innovative for its time, and having played it and games like it in the past, I'm struck by how smooth the whole thing feels. No wonder it was popular! It is notable for having been designed specifically as a 3d Experience, meant to execute techniques like real drivers might attempt, which makes it a different sort of beast in that it tried to do more realistic actions; in some ways, a precursor to modern trends of realism in many games, for ill or best. Ultimately I think this one is worth a nomination because of its influence towards racing games (a popular and long lived genre, to say the least) as a whole.

OUTSIDE CHANCE

Nurburgring 1: On the one hand, I feel a bit guilty putting this one so low; it is recognized as likely being the earliest racing game in history, and given that I just finished noting Pole Position's influence, it feels a bit mean to rate this one as relatively insignificant all the same. However, in terms of notability, I never even heard of this one, and it was tricky finding information about it. Accordingly, that may say something about its influence, though this position DOES make it noteworthy as the first of its kind, albeit with Pole Position refining and introducing elements that shaped the genre.

Dance Dance Revolution: It feels a bit strange, putting this one fairly low. This thing was a MONSTER back in the day; entire arcades were built around the dancing control peripherals it required, rhythm based games or mechanics specifically invoked it by name, and it was an absolute cultural touchstone for years and years. So, why place it low? Partly, its because I can't just shove EVERYTHING into the 'deserves a nomination' folder; I do think it's fairly reasonable for this one to at some point get a nomination in the future, though ultimately there's games more noteworthy on the whole. It's specific rhythm qualities continue outside of its genre, and are quite influential to gaming as a whole, though unfortunately the series seems to have lost something in notability over time; popularity is a factor, but so is the impact on other games.

NBA 2K and NBA Jam: I put these two together because they touch on similar touchstones for me, and they really did popularize basketball games back in the day. Jam in particular seems to be invoking the Big Head mode that were a big thing in games at the time, at least going from the screenshot. They were very popular and highly beloved games back in the day, though I don't know if they have much influence on later games. I note that interestingly, they take opposite approaches; 2k focuses on AI and realistic experiences, while Jam was deliberately less realistic and more actiony in its over the top gameplay.

Nokia Snake: This one really impresses me for the sheer number of releases, in various forms, it's had! Interestingly, there seems to be little consensus on the name of this game; most just call it Snake or something on that theme. I went with Nokia Snake because... mostly, it sounds funny, and that's how its done on the list. This one is fairly low, but I Have to give it credit for having hundreds of releases!

Farmville: My mom liked Facebook games, a lot. And I am certain this one was one of her main ones! I rate it fairly low, and no doubt her spirit is yelling imprecations at me across the void of time, space, and abandoned socks; all the same, this one is ranked low because of the sheer number of displeasure aimed this one's way. (And to be fair, she complained about it. A LOT.) It is thus notable for unusually negative reasons; an example of exploitation, pressuring players to pester their friends to play it in an equivalent to electronic chain mail, and microtranscations.

Tron: I'm inclined to give any game that takes place in a computer land and uses programming or mechanical terminology a free pass! Interestingly, this has some association with the Snake game, as they have similar gameplay and Snake games are sometimes called Light Cylce games, after this one. It has an interesting history; the graphical system was chosen largely because it was believed it was more likely to be achieved before the deadline.

NO BUSINESS IN THE HALL OF FAME

Mattel Football: I do feel a little mean putting anything in this category; firstly because I don't want to make actual fans of something sad, and secondly because I believe you can probably find notability anywhere you look, if you are inclined. And here is the chief difficulty with this one: I could not find any real information in this one. It has no Wikipedia page, a google search only led to undescriptive links of SALES for the game, but not any information on the game itself. Notability is my main resource for sorting these entries, and honestly? If google has nothing on you, that's a pretty poor sign. Sorry, Mattel Football, but you look like a poor man's Game And Watch. You're no Portal, Myst or Pole Position.

#tier lists #tiermaker lists

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

masterlist

ok firstly please bear in mind most of these fics were written in 2014/15 when i was 16 so please do not judge their quality too harshly

ao3

[there are some fics on there that i haven’t put here, mainly chaptered fics but some others too]

drabbles (malum, lashton, cashton, mashton)

lashton

i can count on the sun to shine

It’s not been the easiest of days, but it’s not been the roughest either, so Ashton’s half-surprised when Luke crawls into his lap and curls up in it, looping his arms around Ashton’s neck and nosing into Ashton’s neck, breath warm and even against Ashton’s skin.

my beating heart belongs to you

“God, you’re all sweaty,” Michael adds, and Ashton snorts because that is fucking rich coming from the guy whose sweat has disintegrated two shirts so far this tour. “That’s how Luke likes me,” Ashton fires back, and Calum pulls a face whilst Michael laughs. “What’s how I like you?” Luke asks, coming up behind Ashton and wrapping his arms around him, resting his chin on Ashton’s head.

young and in love (that should be enough)

“Ashton.” Luke draws out the second syllable, pouting to add effect to his words. “Lukey,” Ashton says, stringing out the second syllable too in a softly mocking manner. “What do you want?” “A cuddle,” Luke announces, “from my favourite boyfriend.”

say you’ll never change

@Luke5SOS: It feels like we’re ready to crack these days you & I

it feels like we’re ready to crack these days, you & i [extended version of above fic]

It’s not really that pathetic that Ashton’s got tweet and text notifications on for Luke. Not really.

we gamble with desire

“Guys,” Michael says, making his way into the back lounge. “Have you heard of fanfiction?”

rules of the band

In retrospect, it’s kind of Ashton’s fault that it all starts. He’d eaten the last of the Vegemite, something he knows Michael and Calum feel very strongly about, and it had resulted in a sheet of paper pinned to the fridge by a frog magnet that had ‘Rules of the Band’ scrawled in Calum’s handwriting at the top. Rules of the Band

NOBODY WILL EAT THE LAST OF THE VEGEMITE!!!

soulmates

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

my friends are a different breed

“What’s happening?” Calum says, walking out into the living room. “Luke and Ashton weren’t kissing,” Michael informs him. Calum nods. “We weren’t,” Ashton says in what he hopes is a believable tone.

i’ve got a lot of friends who are stars

The city’s fucking beautiful at night.

dreams only last for a night

Luke prefers it when Ashton’s asleep.

happy father’s day dad :-)

@Calum5SOS: @Ashton5SOS happy Father’s Day dad :-)

my friends are everything

CH: Who’s eaten the last of the fucking vegemite

AI: wtf that was like rule number 1

my new comfort zone

It’s when it starts getting to the tense, anticipatory bit of the film where the gang of actual idiots are about to enter the house which Luke’s ninety-nine percent sure has a murderer in it, that’s when Luke whimpers and turns away from the screen, burying his face in the crook of Ashton’s neck.

as the night gets older of you i grow fonder

Luke’s eight when Ashton moves in next door. (based on the video for you belong with me)

coffee shop soundtrack

“Mind if I sit here?” the guy asks, and there’s a kind of apologetic hint to his tone. “Everywhere else is full.” Full? The coffee shop's never full- Oh. Apart from today, apparently. Every single seat is taken. “Oh, Luke says. “Uh. Sure.“

taking the long way home

“May we have your attention for flight BA8227,” the tinny voice of the announcement says, and Ashton’s stomach sinks. They never announce anything he wants to hear; there’s never any we’ve upgraded hardworking and broke session drummer Ashton Irwin to first class, he’s also been given unlimited air miles and a refund on his overpriced tuna melt. “We are sorry to announce that this flight is delayed by approximately seven hours. This is due to unforeseen adverse weather conditions. I repeat-”

if these walls could talk (they’ve seen way too many things)

The announcement comes late, at eight p.m., interrupting radio and TV broadcasts and flashing up on phone screens. Due to the current pandemic, the state is now on mandatory lockdown for three weeks. All citizens have until midnight to return to their places of residence. Those outside after midnight will be subject to severe penalties. Further information to follow. “You have to leave,” Ashton says. “You have to go.” Luke blinks. “They’re locking down the state.”

as he faced the sun he cast no shadow

Ashton doesn’t really realise he’s fallen out of love until it’s happened.

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon (soulmate au)

chapter one ~ chapter two ~ chapter three ~ chapter four ~ chapter five ~ chapter six ~ chapter seven

The tattoos appear one Wednesday night. What’s yours?” Michael demands, sounding beside himself with excitement. Luke frowns. “What’s my what?” “Your tattoo.”

fight so dirty but your love’s so sweet

Luke hates a good ninety-five percent of his job. A solid thirty percent of that comes from the fact that he works as a receptionist at a hotel, which he thinks is possibly the most thankless job humanity could possibly have created. A further ten comes from the fact that his desk is right next to the kitchen, meaning mouth-watering smells are constantly wafting under his nose, and Luke’s not allowed to eat on shift. Fifty-five percent of it, though, is Ashton.

there’s no time for running away now

It’s three a.m., and Ashton’s awake. On the surface, that might not appear to be a problem. And ordinarily, it wouldn’t be - ordinarily, Ashton would either roll over groggily, will sleep to come with every fibre of his being and maybe a quick prayer or two, or read something mind-numbingly boring like his urgent work emails to send him back to sleep. This, however, isn’t the most ordinary situation. Ashton is awake because of Luke.

-------

malum

make me a promise here tonight

“Calum,” Michael says, walking into the bunk area and stopping in front of Calum’s bunk. “Cal.” “What?” Calum asks, not looking up from his phone. “I think we should get married.”

we know this is the way it’s supposed to be

Calum’s always the first person Michael rings in an emergency. Like right now, for example. Right now’s an emergency. “What the fuck do you want, Clifford?” Calum groans, voice tinny through the shitty phone line, but he’s picked up after the first ring so Michael knows he doesn’t mean it. “I need help,” Michael says, trying to stop the phone from slipping down his chest from where it’s pressed between his shoulder and his ear. “Green, blue, or black?“

the first time i’ve seen love (and the last i’ll ever need)

“Tell me a story.” The words are whispered into the fabric of Calum’s shirt, and Calum’s arms tighten around Michael as he hums in response. It’s familiar, the situation, because it’s what Michael always asks for when he’s tired, scared, lonely, or just wants to hear Calum’s voice.

it should be criminal that you could be mine

He can’t help but get a little jealous when Ashton and Luke start properly dating, though. He can’t help but get jealous of the way Ashton’s always taking Luke out for dinner, always holding his hand, always buying him presents, always making these romantic gestures that Michael’s never had from Calum. (or calum’s version of a dinner date)

it always will be you (wherever you are)

It started off as something kind of unnecessary. Calum already had a Twitter account, and he wasn’t someone who was afraid to speak his mind. If he had something to say, he’d say it on his public account. He’d only made the account for when he was in a bit of a shitty mood and wanted to vent or when he had an inappropriate joke that only Michael would find funny.

falling asleep on a stranger

As it is, his bus is running late today and Calum had run all the way to the bus stop from his house (a good two minutes of exercise, at least, which means he’s breathless and almost breaking a sweat by the time he reaches the bus stop) because he’d thought he was late. When he realises, however, that he could have had an extra ten minutes and actually eaten some breakfast, he groans, lets his eyes flutter shut and mutters “fuck me.” “Excuse me?” a surprised voice says, and Calum opens his eyes so fast he thinks he might have accidentally blinded himself. Standing to his left, an amused look on his face, is a boy with fluffy-looking blue hair (blue).

this could be the start of something new

He pushes past throngs of tired-looking businessmen to get into the last carriage, looking around for some seats. He’s not the only one who’s had that idea, clearly, as the last carriage is nigh-on full and Calum has the choice of two seats - one next to a balding man who’s eating what looks to be a tuna sandwich (Calum balks at the very idea) and a tattooed-up-to-hell punk kid with a shock of light pink hair in a suit, jacket on his lap. Calum goes for the latter.

you’re already the voice inside my head

“Michael didn’t say anything, mate,” Luke says, confused. “Yes, he did,” Calum says, exasperated. “I…no, I didn’t,” Michael says slowly. “What the fuck, Mike?” Calum says, perplexed. “I didn’t say it, Cal…I thought it.”

i want to teach you a lesson (in the worst kind of way)

“Who’s that, sir?” Lily asks, jabbing at the window. “The new PE teacher,” Michael says. “He’s cute,” Sarah says, and a couple of the girls nod vigorously. “He’s also twice your age,” Michael says. “Go on, off to your practice rooms.” The girls groan, but one by one pull themselves away from the window and start to wander off. Michael stays by the window, one eye on the girls to make sure they actually go where they’re supposed to and one eye on the new PE teacher, who’s dividing the class up into groups and handing out footballs. He is kind of hot, Michael supposes, if you’re into muscular guys who are clearly good at sports. Which Michael most definitely is.

dancing with the demons (holy spirit, holy spirit)

“You’re kind of a shitty demon,” he tells Calum, who scowls. “Fuck you,” he says. “You’re kind of a shitty angel.” “Oh, dude, I know,” Michael agrees.

only you (and you can hear me)

“Uh,” Calum says, looking out into the crowd, and Michael follows his gaze, trying to find what Calum’s staring at. “I’m going to go to the teepee with Heather.” Michael’s stomach sinks. “Really?” he asks, before he can stop himself, looking over at Calum. “Yeah,” Calum says, turning to look at Michael, and Michael whips back around before Calum can see the look of please don’t written all over his face. “Alright.” (tiny dancer scene from rocketman but happy)

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back)

chapter one ~ chapter two ~ chapter three ~ chapter four ~ chapter five ~ chapter six

“Fucking shite,” Liam says, over the sound of the crowd’s growing murmurs. “Would’ve rather watched City fucking lose.” They all know he’s lying. Liam’d probably rather cut off his limbs one at a time than sit at home to watch City get thrashed. It reminds Calum where he is, though, as he takes a sip of his beer with slightly shaky hands. He’s in fucking Manchester, in a dingy bar with two of the biggest pricks he’s ever met in his life, watching shitty bands play mediocre songs to avoid having to watch his football team get massacred by Everton. It grounds him, shakes him out of it, makes him remember that he’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now. But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford. - or: calum's in oasis and michael's in blur and it's the height of the 1990s britpop war

couldn’t make it more obvious could you (be any more obvious?)

“D’you think he was being serious?” he asks Ashton, who’s already engrossed in his phone again. “Hm?” Ashton says, without looking up. “‘Bout what?” “Jack.” That makes Ashton look up, brow furrowed. “What about him?” Calum hesitates. “Y’know,” he says, a little uncomfortably. Ashton cocks his head, raising his eyebrows in an I don’t know sort of way. “About them. Sleeping together.” “Oh,” Ashton says, shrugs, and turns back to his phone. “Yeah, obviously.”

love would burn this city down for you

There’s something so comforting about the city. Calum remembers the first time he’d got it, that rush of everything and nothing and beauty and reverence as he’d stared out at the brightly-lit scene before him, overwhelmed and trying his best to drink it all in. Fuck me, he’d thought, a delicious numbness licking at his nerves. I’m fucking irrelevant. (It was the first time he’d ever known peace.)

——-

cashton

‘cause all of the stars are fading away (just try not to worry you’ll see them someday)

Growing up isn’t easy. Nobody ever told him it would be. You’ll get hurt, his mum would say, eyes big and sad, and he’d shrug and say that’s life, not really understanding what she meant because he was yet to spend three nights in a row staring up at his ceiling, drunk and high and so miserable it somehow felt like everything and nothing at the same time. It’ll be difficult, his manager had warned, when they got their first tour with One Direction, and Ashton had shrugged and said isn’t everything?, not realising that what ‘difficult’ meant was sacrifice; his sleep, his home, his self, everything torn out at the roots and tossed aside for him to gather back into his arms again. The hardest part of growing up, though, isn’t when things happen to him, when someone breaks up with him or wakes him up two hours after he’s gone to bed or puts him on another plane six hours after he’s just got off one. The hardest part of growing up is when he looks around him and realises I’m not happy.

#ignore this post #also im gonna have to put up posts of the ones that i havent posted on tumblr yet soon #cos rn half of them are just linked to my ao3 #but im gonna space it out bc its annoying #and also i'm going to be very discerning #bc some of them are...to put it politely...RUBBISH #and when i say some of them i mean every single one of them #being proud of things you've written? could never be me

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reelybadfnafocs · 3 years

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Here I go (oh boy, sorry for the terrible English, I’m actually Brazilian so this is hard) (i was about to be like holaaaaaaaa otro latino but then i remembred yall speak porch of geese fml. anyway hi. mod mangles on the case)

Name: Dolly the Dog

Species: Dog

Gender: Female

Job: The narrator of the shows/babysitter

Purpose: To help with the narration during the shows and to take care of the lost children in the establishment. Children are instructed to, if they ever lose sight of their parents, stay close to the stage and play with her; the parents are instructed to look there first. If the parents don’t come back to take their child, one of the employees has to discover where the child lives and take the poor kid home. If the kid is not comfortable with the employee, they can take their favorite animatronic to accompany them (this was only permitted after one incident, in which a girl made a scandal because she didn’t wanted to go with the day guard to her house). while i think the concept of a kid showing up to someone’s house with like a 6 ft furry robot is funny, i don’t see this really panning out in practice. as iffy as i am about it, i think the “babysitter/lost child center” thing can stay as is, but i think employees would defer to calling parents first (if the child is old enough to have memorized a phone number/have a phone), local authorities, or CPS.

Creator: Sarah Brown (another OC), the owner of the establishment and the creator of all the animatronics.

Location: The Showtime Funland, a restaurant for all the family (but specially for their children). It’s a vibrant, cheery and colorful place, where there are seven animatronics: Ollie the Owl, Billy the Bird, Fany the Fish, Charlie the Cat, Dolly the Dog, Happy and Lucky. Happy and Lucky are the only human-ish animatronics, and both of them are out of order during the game, and the others are the main actors of the stage, where they tell stories with musicals during the meals on the restaurant or just stay on the playground with the kids; the only one who can’t go to the playground during the day is Dolly, who’s programmed to stay and take care of the children waiting for their parents.

Where: On the stage; she sits on the front of the stage, on the right, and narrates the story that’s being performed.

Age: She’s the oldest animatronic: seven years of functioning. Her character is older than that, because of her old version, but since it was malfunctioning in a way which wasn’t even possible to take lightly, she was replaced by her new version. Her character is 14 years old. this is a little unclear to me…has she been in service for 14 years, or is the character supposed to be like a 14 year old child? i don’t think animatronics really need ages tbh but i dont see any issue with this either, so you can scrap this detail if you feel unsure about it.

Haunted/not: She is not haunted, but her program is malfunctioning; her AI is not recognizing the faces of the employees during the night for “unknown reasons”, and she attacks them as if they are “threats to the establishment”, in a way that she wasn’t programmed to do; she was supposed to call the police if any intruder came, but she becomes aggressive during the night because of someone meddling with her system.

During the game: The first thing the game shows is a cutscene, where the night guard is guided through the whole building by the day guard (called “Steve Hughes” by Annie, but it’s not known if this is the same day guard or not), and is introduced to the animatronics and told a bit of the story behind the establishment. It was created by Sarah Brown, a famous inventor, and was a well known establishment since its opening during the 80’s. During its history in business, there where countless robbers and stupid teenagers trying to get in and mess around with the things inside Funland, so the night guard was supposed to deal with these problems; but the animatronics, after a terrible incident in which the night guard was attacked by a robber, received a new AI capable of recognizing the faces of the employees and to give the night guard an alert if there was any intruder. The night guard is left alone to watch the cameras while listening to “Annie”’s recordings, since she was the last night guard, and discover about the malfunctioning of the AIs. In the third night, Annie quits, leaving the player with her guide about how to avoid the animatronics and with some recordings of how to flee if there’s something happening during the night (like a fire, for example) without getting caught. First, only Ollie and Fany are threats, but through night two and three Billy and Charlie too start to malfunction; in the end of night three, Dolly starts to do so as well. In the fifth night, Happy and Lucky also leave the deposit where they are hidden to attack the player. On the sixth bonus night, Annie left an odd recording of her and Sarah talking about the AIs of the animatronics, and Sarah implies that she knows of someone who would “do anything to make his business bigger than mine again, and wouldn’t hesitate to sabotage my creations”, as if she knows about the malfunctioning.

During the nights (3-5 (and bonus night)): She is the most predictable and organized of the animatronics, always making this specific path: first she leaves the stage, where she normally is, then goes through the playground (and stays there for a while), passes by the kitchen, through the deposit (where the audio doesn’t work, but the camera does), and then to the left corridor to the night guard’s office. She never changes her path, but as the game progresses she begins to become more and more fast and, since the other animatronics are more unpredictable, it’s harder to pay attention to her movements. Annie says, on her second recording, that she’s afraid of all the animatronics besides Dolly, since she is “the less threatening”; but, on her guide to escape on night four, she seems to have changed her mind (or it was a previous recording, before she labeled Dolly as “predictable and almost harmless”), it doesn’t chronologically make sense to have this be a previous recording, unless you intend to imply that annie went back and remade recordings for nights 1-3 right before she quit in addition to the night 4 guide. saying that “it would be best if you pay attention to her, since she’s fast and difficult to see without the flashlights”.

Skill: She tries to kill the player, first at the end of night three until night five (and the sixth bonus night). Dolly has a very advanced AI and is equipped with a recognition system, at least a hundred plays and stories on her memory, a voice system that helps her to change her voice when needed, the ability to sing, dance and interact with humans properly, and a system that can regulate her body heat. i was gonna say a hundred seems a bit much but idk how many stories the storyteller-esque animatronics are programmed to have tbh. if youre aiming to make the restaurant one of those cheaper places, id recommend scaling this number down.

Personality: During the day, Dolly is incredible cocky and arrogant when it comes to her role as the narrator, and she proclaims herself the “star of the show”, something her old version had but was even worse, coming to the extreme of pushing another animatronic off the stage and destroying it completely after getting annoyed by the poor robot. She’s kind with the children and the adults alike, but acts more politely with the elder and more sisterly with the younger audience; she says, during the game, that it’s horrible to never be able to go to the playground, but that she loves to take care of the lost children. During the night, she becomes a very aggressive but organized animatronic, something that her personality has during daytime as well; she is often annoyed by the others, since they sometimes go against the script for comic relief. Dolly is the most talkative of the animatronics during their attempts to kill the player, often bragging about her role as the narrator and star of the Showtime Funland and threatening to “end the show” of the night guard.

Appearance: A black and white dog (white on her mouth, chin, hands and belly), with big, glowing brown-yellowish eyes. Her ears are long and fall by the sides of her head, and she has paws instead of feet, but still has hands. She wears a magician hat with a blue bow on it, and sometimes during her show takes it off, just to reveal something inside of it that can help during the play (for example, a sword so that the protagonist can slay the dragon or a pie to the little protagonist give as a gift to a friend); she also wears a blue bowtie that matches her hat’s bow.

ok, final thoughts:

i was going to comment on how high-quality these animatronics seem to be, but given that you go out of your way to describe Sarah Brown as a very competent mechanic(? is that the right term idk), i think ill let it go. this seems like one of those higher end fancy-ish restaurants so most of this can slide, unlike if you were to make the location be some sort of cheap or dirty diner.

no notes on the story, i think it works well. the game seems to have kind of a steep difficulty spike towards the latter half with nights 3, 4, and 5, but thats not really an issue i think because you deal with more shit on fnaf 2 anyway. there were some iffy bits here and there, but nothing too bad that was worth pointing out or changing, so overall this is a solid character! good job :D

~mod mangle

#WHAT WAS THAT THING WITH THE TAGS OH GOD WJFKSDKEKFKSKF #submission #mod mangle

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missmaxime · 4 years

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17! 18! 30! 32! 38! <3 <3 <3

Thank you for these! 🥰 17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback? I don’t. Well, not immediately. I try to distract myself for at least half an hour to an hour after posting because by the time I post I’ve already gone mental from finaFinalreRerereadFiNaldefDEFDEF.def x34 and I need to calm down. But after that I compulsively refresh AO3 (for the Beth/Rio tag) and depending on the time of day I start replying to comments or wait for it until morning. I don’t re-read my own fic until at least the day after (and inevitably fix some v obvs spelling mistakes I got blind for during edits). 18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie? A little while ago I would have maybe said Wild at Heart, but I recently started editing the new chapter and now I’m feeling that story again (I got a bit lost with it over season 3, and it’s a long fic I’m not really used to writing – I had no oversight in my notes and outline and ugh). I think when I do publish it might have a bit of a different tone, especially because I think I progressed a lot over the past six months as a writer. But I have by now accepted that I will never re-write those earlier chapters, so I’m just going to move on and continue the story. BTW. If someone can recommend a/their Word Processor to get a better oversight in longer WIPs, please do! There’s no published WIP I won’t get back to from what I see now. I have a few in my WIP-folder that are a lost cause, main reasons are either because I either forgot I wrote it to begin with, or because I don’t like my style or plot anymore. 30. Post a snippet from you’re a current WIP without context - no more than 300 words. From a WIP I definitely won’t abandon, but one that’s also taking me crazy long to write (because world-building):

Annie swallows everything down, but keeps the bowl of candies protectively close to her chest. “I can’t believe they reached out to you twenty years later,” she says, plopping down next to Beth. “I can’t believe they subpoenaed me.” Annie sits up. “Technically they summoned you—” Beth gives her a look that immediately shuts her up. “You know, it’s good they did. They probably got a notification that you got rid of your Dean-shaped baggage and thought: Presto Matcho, and let’s go!” “Maybe I don’t want to be matched up.” “Relax, sis. Just go out on a date, get those cobwebs cleaned out if he’s a seven or up, and move on with your life!” “Annie!” “You’re right, maybe don’t be that picky, make it a six.” Beth’s all fired up to blow a gasket when a man with a bird tattoo sprawled on his neck enters the waiting room, accompanied by a dark-haired woman in a suit. They’re in a heated discussion, going through a pile of papers that’s full of marked segments and bookmarks. Beth’s getting a bit lost in thought, looking at him when she feels Annie leaning her head on her shoulder. “I served him too,” she whispers in Beth’s ear, pulling her back into reality again. “You!” she hears the guy say, pointing at Annie, who immediately throws her hands up in defense, totally forgetting she was holding the candy bowl which immediately tumbles onto the ground, scattering its contents over the floor. “Hey, I’m just here for my sister, don’t come at me bro!” she tries to laugh it nervously away. He doesn’t think it’s funny. But his gaze lingers on Beth a longer time than might be appropriate before turning his attention back to the woman beside him. 32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from? I can have different favorites varying on the week / day. It usually changes when I post a new fic. Sometimes I’m not even super in love with a line when I post it, but it grows on me when I re-read later. So just three random ones: Regardless of his repeat observation of ‘you’re so tight, baby’, she’s definitely not going to indulge him with the Snoozefest Saga of her sex life of the past decade. – from Stuck in the Middle It’s a decision he almost immediately regrets. Apparently, Elizabeth is very convinced of her (faulty) navigation skills. And mind you, he has an essentially AI-worthy navigation system build into his (“Is this what you drive? Don’t you think it’s a little… out there? Like, surely you don’t really need something so preposterous to arrive in?” she had laughed cutely after that, but he felt slapped in the face – and not the kind he might be paying her for) G-wagon. – from The Girlfriend Experience “Yeah,” he smiles. “We real good friends too, aren’t we?” he says suggestively. (It’s just, he can’t help it, knows it’s dumb and petty but ugh. He’s suffered through Mick’s eye-rolls enough after returning from a No Elizabeth Murder Night again. The other guy casually looking up from polishing his custom ninja throwing stars - don’t start about it, it’s a whole thing, and Rio’s convinced the man can’t even get them into a wall a three feet away if he wears that one jacket - waiting for Rio to cock his head and ask: “What?” “Nothing,” he had replied, dipping a cloth into the jar of polish. “’Nothing’?” Rio had repeated – a little more petulant than he intended. “What are you, my wife?” Ever so slowly, the corners of Mick’s mouth had turned upwards. “Heard spot’s taken.” Rio may have keyed Mick’s car that night.) Beth smiles back stiffly. - from I See Your True Technicolors I don’t know, I really like doing these kinda scene-in-scene (or sentence) things, I don’t know if this has a name. 38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)? Hmm that kind of depends what part of the process we’re talking about. Let’s roughly break that up in three parts: 1. Working out the idea (8/10): Really, really chaotic. This is just days or weeks of just flashes of ideas and plotpoints and lines of dialogue shooting through my brain. Haphazardly writing those down in various docs, on paper in between my work notes, or in the notes on my phone. When I finally know the rough outline of the story I go into; 2. Writing the fic (4/10): I’m a super chronological writer, I really move from scene A to B to C until I finally arrive at Z. But when I start writing I often only really know A, D, E, J, O, Q, Z – the rest will just grow or appear organically as I write. Sometimes it does mean I won’t write for a few days because I circle back to step 1 for a certain scene. A good example is the Artic Hunter Fairytale Beth tells Jane in Chapter 2 of I See Your True Technicolors. I knew up front I was going to write a scene where we would see how this seemingly unweighted moment for Beth – she’s just telling a nighttime story – had a massive impact on Jane. There were some themes and motives I felt like needed to make an appearance: the more tangible reason of Jane’s quest, how young kids often hold their parents’ word as truth, and I needed it to be a true heartfelt moment between Beth and Jane. But before I wrote the first line of that scene I had no idea that would be the scene that it became. So I do outline a bit, but I need to create enough room for myself for moments like that to happen. It’s one of the things I enjoy most about writing. It’s a bit of an organized mess within a tighter frame/outline. 3. Editing (7/10): I’ve really been perfecting my Editing skills over the past 6/7 months – it’s not perfect, but you live and you learn. I spend more time working on the fic after I ‘finished’ it, really ramped up the spelling and grammar checks (I love you Word editor, but I also hate you), and take more and more care to make sure that all my dialogue feels IC ánd distinctive enough per character (especially the latter I feel like lacks in earlier WAH chapters). So, work in progress, but I feel pretty confident in this one. Again, thanks for sending these! <3

#asks #writer asks #fanfiction #my fanfic

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potuzzz · 3 years

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YouTube Comment 11 (Leftists & Technology)

In terms of obvious threats I really wish more left leaning movements would take issues like technological security more seriously... But it's extremely difficult because most people just don't understand the technical details of things like encryption, threat modeling and using open source software. I think everyone has to be open to the idea that a big reason for these extremely intricate planned police response could be, at least in part, because of the extremely sophisticated surveillance state in the US, and combatting that is more complicated than "downloading signal".

This is only going to get worse. IMO, we need to use leftist-only media FAST to spread the word on such serious, underreported issues, and train us all how to combat it--i know I myself am next-to technologically-illiterate when it comes to this. It makes being socialist hard today, it will make it impossible come tomorrow, if we're not ready.

Yeah, I am not exaggerating when I say that most progressive movements would be massively more effective if they simply went full analog, or at least abandoned things like email, smartphones, etc. The number of political assassinations and infiltrations that have happened to leftists that may have been caused by the surveillance state over the past couple decades can't be understated.

If leftists are to use technology to organize in these strange times, it is a massive risk to simply pick up an iphone and start. We are basically using sticks and stones to fight godlike AI that know our behaviors better than we do. If we want technology we must be prepared to create our own tech infrastructure, our own youtube, facebook, computer server farms, proxies, etc.

It sucks because I feel like it would take a wide-open, central, public, internet-based effort to even rally the troops, so to speak. To do initial briefing, to raise funds for such endeavors. Where do we even begin? Is it even possible at this point? It feels so hopeless sometimes.

Well asking where to begin is pretty simple, but it may seem extremely drastic, but it has to be done.

Again, as I said, working without a large portion of consumer technology that we've become accustomed to would go a long way. I could make a whole essay on why social media, even for just "propaganda" is causing more damage than good. Cancelling all social media for the time being and focusing on in person and local organizing would be a huge boon. Perhaps there are some comrades who are only able to organize by social media, but everyone else needs to get off ASAP. The veneer of social media is not just a security liability, but an ideological one as well, since comrades may be wasting inordinate amounts of time on social media while tricking themselves into thinking they are doing full time activism.

In any case, not to discourage those comrades who have done good work in social media, but we know there is an obvious threat with filter bubbles and the way algorithms have worked to spread radical reactionary ideology. We know that any "success" we may be achieving on social media may just be the filter bubble, an algorithm, allowing for a very small and organized number of people to see progressive ideology while also keeping them attached to the system of social media.

As a very unscientific personal example, i have (in the past) browsed and watched reactionary channels such as Sargon, Crowder, Shapiro, etcetc, as a matter of intellectual curiosity on youtube. It only takes a couple of these videos for youtube to blast your entire home screen with radical reactionary ideology. I rarely get that same response from browsing channels like noncompete, three arrows, and others.

After social media (what i consider the most malicious corrosive to leftist propaganda) it will be a slow process of weaning comrades off of technology that threatens the security of their movement. Ideally we reach a point where everyone throws out their smartphones in favor of a more secure "dumb" phone and cheap laptop (with open source software on it) but there's a lot of steps in between.

For example, once we get rid of social media how do we continue to communicate? That would require using encrypted, open source chat applications, of which there is no shortage of, but any application would need to be audited by someone with technical skill in order to confirm they are secure. One could set up an encrypted email server for their organizations and simply pay for hosting, etc etc....

And all this seems difficult but keep in mind that reactionaries following Trump are literally improving their operational security like this right now. They are likely developing their own encrypted chat programs, they already have their own personal domains and such. I don't know if we're too far behind to ever catch up either, we are decades behind in underdtanding a technology that is growing exponentially every year. This is an incredibly dire situation.

Well, to get everyone off social media, we need a powerful movement ON social media to get everyone off--and trust me, it's not an easy sell. I've been anti-social media before I even thought about it politically, and even most of my most revolutionary friends check their phones before they do anything else in the morning.

I would, for example, give you personally a loudspeaker if I could, but I am a nobody, not in the leftist online sphere and certainly not outside of that (I'm trying to build a rap career to infiltrate the youth to do this). However, you seem knowledgeable and people need to hear this. Would you ever go on, say, a livestream to talk with a leftist streamer and their audience, or something similar?

Ive had plans to make some kind of writeup with my ideas especially relating to social media, building technical skill in movements, and weaning ourselves off the capitalist's controlled technology. On speaking though, I am also a nobody, I would expect no one to listen to me just because what I say sounds true and the fact I agree with most revolutionary ideologies. I would have to have fully formed ideas and a convincing argument to be made, which I do not have yet as much as I've written up here. I also lack the technical skill to do things like audit open source programs and setting up servers.

I'll continue thinking and proposing my ideas though, perhaps a more skillful leftist will see it.

Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rcJWELkHLAM&lc=UgwSt88Sexozk_Fl8i14AaABAg.9IOE_5nF0Mv9IfinyZWfcp

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vadersmom1 · 4 years

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What is a Honeybear?

Read on ao3

When Steve and Bucky move into the house on Vine St., they were greeted by their neighbor that lived two houses down. He was a short brunette that definitely worked with his hands, Steve notes.

“Welcome to the neighborhood!” The man greets. “I’m Tony. I live two houses down. Do you need any help unpacking?”

Steve isn’t sure why, but his voice has stopped working. Bucky steps in, holding out a hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Bucky Barnes and this is my brother, Steve Rogers. We would appreciate the help.”

Tony helps them carry their last truckload of boxes into the house. By the time the last box has been set down, the three of them are laughing and talking aa if they were all old friends. Tony orders pizza from “the best pizza place in town.” When they’re finished, he tells them he has to go.

“He’s kind of cute,” Steve remarks as he and Bucky watch Tony leave.

“He is,” Bucky agrees. “Go for it.”

“I dunno. I would have to make sure he is interested. I don’t want to make our first welcoming neighbor uncomfortable with us.” Steve nudges Bucky’s shoulder. “When is Sam going to be here?”

Sam arrives about twenty minutes later, and the three of them unpack until Bucky decides he is done for the night and drags Sam to bed. Steve checks his phone and sends a quick text off to Sharon about their neighbor before he decides to follow Bucky’s example. It was a long day, and he is exhausted.

Steve keeps Sharon updated on Tony. She had broken up with him two years ago when she realized that she just wasn’t into men. Steve had had a self-realization not too long after that he liked men just as much as he liked women. Six months later, Sharon was dating their friend Maria, and she and Steve had remained friendly. Now he texts her about any new options he’s found. She’s on a long business trip at the moment and is unable to visit.

Tony hangs around a lot. Even though he owns three cars, he lives alone with a few robots, which he has named oddly. He has a DUM-E, a BUTTERFINGERS, and a U. Steve thinks he has another one, or else he names his cars because he knows he’s heard “Platypus” and “honeybear” a few times. It’s a little odd, but Steve finds it endearing. The man drinks more than his healthy share of coffee and somehow manages to injure himself on the dumbest things. If Tony lived with someone, Steve would be afraid that he’s covering up abuse. Tony is a genius – you should see (or hear) the AI that he coded and installed in his home – but he is also so dumb sometimes. He can work out long division in his head, but he has no idea why drinking orange juice right after brushing his teeth is a bad idea. Steve knows he’s smitten, and it has only been a month since they’ve moved in. Sam and Bucky think it’s hilarious and that he should just ask Tony out, but Steve is unsure.

They have had other neighbors welcome them to the neighborhood. Most of them have something to say about Tony, mostly disapproving.

Old Mrs. Oakley tells them that he gets big deliveries and floods the air with exhaust from “those big trucks.” She often wonders why he doesn’t just get them delivered to a warehouse. Steve does wonder if he works from home. He doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Tony leave to go to work.

Janice Teller brings them an apple pie that is a “secret family recipe.” She openly flirts with Steve even though he knows she has a husband and four kids. She tells Steve and Bucky that Tony is a sex addict. There are always people going in and out of his house. Steve has noticed that two read-headed women visit him a lot. Maybe he’s in a polyamorous relationship and really digs redheads.

Mr. Everton, who lives next door to Tony, complains about the noise. Apparently, Tony keeps late hours and blares classic rock and 80’s metal. Bucky just smirks and says he likes Tony’s style.

Karen Packer stops past weekly to catch them up on the latest gossip. When Bucky – to Steve’s mortification – asks if Tony is single, she leans in and tells them, “I hear he’s pansexual or something like that. What is that – attracted to skillets?” And she laughs at own very annoying joke. “Any way, whatever that means. But honestly?” Somehow, she leans in even further. “I don’t know. I think he’s more of a playboy. There have been several people who keep coming back. He did have a black – I mean, African American, I’m sorry – man living with him for a while, but he’s never around anymore. Man probably drove him away what with all his oddities. He must be a lot to deal with.” Steve wants to strangle this woman, so he lets Bucky handle her.

Jessica is a recluse who lives next door to Steve and Bucky. She’s a PI who has a home office. She’s obnoxious and mean to any who approach her, save Tony. To be honest, she is mean and obnoxious to him as well, but it’s a different tone. He returns it, and she gives a hint of a smile. Tony tells Steve and Bucky that they are drinking buddies.

Most people seem to leave Tony alone, and he does likewise. Steve wonders why, then, does Tony seem to knock on their door at 3am because he can’t sleep and needs someone to whom he can talk? They learn that Tony has nightmares from a traumatic experience, and he hates fire, the cold, and closed, dark spaces.

+++++++++++++++

Somewhere around the two-month mark of their new home, Bucky hears a knock on the back door. This is odd because their back door opens to a fenced-in yard. He opens it to find Tony in sweatpants and a flannel that he is quickly trying to button. Bucky catches some scar tissue across his chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks amusedly.

“Yes. I need you to hide me.” Tony pants. “I have someone at my house who is violating a restraining order.”

“Do you want me to call the cops?”

“No. No cops. I’m trying to stay out of the spotlight, not because of anything illegal, but because I used to be famous and I don’t want to be anymore. And she’s a stalker. She didn’t see me, so I don’t know if it’s just a lead she got, or if she really knows I’m here. Do you mind if I stay here until she leaves?” Tony asks.

“Sure. No problem. Want me to get rid of her?” Bucky asks. He knows his glare and prosthetic arm scare a lot of people.

Tony shrugs. “You can try, but she’s pretty persistent.”

Bucky and Steve look out the window blinds. There is a gorgeous woman standing at Tony’s door. After she knocks and rings the doorbell a few times, she stands on the walk, waiting. Bucky opens his door and walks over to Tony’s. “Hi! Can I help you? I don’t think they’re home at the moment.”

“Oh, hi.” The woman says her voice like a syrup. “I’m just looking for Tony. Does he live here?”

Bucky stares at her quizzically. “Tony? I don’t know any Tony’s. You have the wrong house.”

“Are you sure? I was told he lives here.” She starts to get a little pissy.

“Nope. The people who live here are Adam and Julia Batcher. I believe they are both at work.”

“Then who’s car is that?” The lady points at the old Toyota Corolla out front of the house.

Bucky shrugs. “Car broke down about a year ago. Adam bought a new one, but this was his first car, so he doesn’t want to get rid of it.”

“If you’re lying to me,” She threatens, eyes narrowed, “I can make your life miserable.”

“What reason do I have to lie to you?” Bucky makes himself look upset. “I just wanted to help you. But if you want to threaten me, I will have to ask you to leave. We all stick together here, and no one will be happy that you just threatened an ex-soldier who lost his arm on a tour.” He knows his death glare is showing now.

The woman gulps. “I am so sorry. I will be on my way. Thank you for your service.” She hops in her car and drives away.

Bucky scrubs a hand over his face and mutters, “Bitch.”

Tony is awestruck when Bucky returns. “You got her to leave in five minutes. Can I hire you as my bodyguard?” He gushes. “Sunset Bain didn’t know what hit her.” He stays at their house the rest of the day and has one of his redhead friends go home with him in case Sunset is watching.

Tony introduces his friend as Natasha, the second-scariest person he knows. She shakes their hands but looks at them suspiciously. When he leaves, he hugs both Steve and Bucky and thanks them profusely.

Tony starts to hang out with Steve, Bucky, and Sam most days now. He’ll buy expensive steaks and just take them to their house and say he’s providing dinner. They have a weekly movie night, and Tony is a James Bond and Star Wars junkie, so he fits right in. He indulges and feeds Bucky’s conspiracy-fueled brain. Many a night is spent arguing about the moon landing or whether aliens are real, etc. Steve feels that Tony is fitting in so well to his friend group. He can’t wait for Sharon to meet him because he knows they will hit off well.

Steve still hasn’t made his move for two reasons. One, Tony has never seemed too interested in Steve. He flirts with Steve, but he also flirts with Bucky and Sam. Two, he thinks Tony is dating Natasha. They seem awfully close.

Tony seems to be getting happier and happier. He keeps referencing something about “one more month" or “three weeks" and so on. It has something to do with “Honeybear" the car being home to stay. Steve guesses he’s finally made the last payment on his car or something.

+++++++

The day finally comes that Tony has been referring to. Steve is curious to see why today is so special. But Tony just goes about his day like normal.

Steve complains to Bucky when he sees him out working on the Corolla in short shorts and a black wife beater. “It’s like he wants me to see him. The grease stains are so hot. Ugh. I just want to ask him out.”

“Ask who out?” Maria asks, walking in the door with Sharon.

“Tony. Look at him. Isn’t he hot?” Steve sighs.

Sharon looks out the window, and her eyes get big. “No, you better not ask him out!” She growls.

Natasha's car pulls up. Tony rolls out from under the car immediately, and his face brightens. Steve sighs dejectedly. Of course, they’re dating. He looks away.

“Keep watching,” Sharon advises.

An African American man in an army uniform jumps out of the car, and Tony’s face beams. He embraces the man tightly and pulls him into a filthy kiss. Steve’s face forms an ‘O', and Sharon laughs, “Yes, that is why you shouldn’t ask him out.”

“You-you know him?” Bucky asks.

“Yes, he’s my ‘cousin' Tony. My aunt Peggy and his dad were friends. Rhodes is his husband.”

“Why did he never bring up his husband?” Steve questions.

Maria snorts, “Has he mentioned Sugarbear, Honeybear, Sourpatch, Cabbagepatch, Platypus, or anything like that? Tony uses nicknames for those he loves.”

“Yea, I have gotten a lot of Cyborg names,” Bucky says thoughtfully. “And he calls Sam ‘Birdie’ a lot. Steve, doesn’t he call you the ‘great wall of justice’ or ‘Cap'?”

“…And here are Steve and Bucky,” Tony walks up with Rhodes. “Steve, Bucky, I would like you to meet my husband, my honeybear, my sour patch, my lover, and my Rhodey, James Rhodes. Rhodey, this is Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.”

“Call me Rhodey or Jim,” Rhodey sticks out his hand. “This one thinks James is a stupid name. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard tons about you guys.”

“Nice to meet you as well.” Steve replies.

Tony claps his hands. “Ok great! Introductions are made. I hate to kiss and run, but Rhodey just got back from a long deployment. I hope you understand we will need a lot of alone time.” He grins as Steve blushes. “Please excuse us.” Tony all but drags Rhodey out of the house. Seeing Sharon, he pauses, “Hey cuz. Wait you guys know each other?”

Rhodey rolls his eyes and proceeds to pull Tony out of the house, “I thought we needed alone time.”

Steve heaves a sigh of relief once the couple makes it to their door.

“That’s why,” Sharon says. “However, have you met Nat? She might be a good choice for you.”

Steve groans.

#ironhusbands #winterfalcon #13hill #steve rogers #tony stark #bucky barnes #sam wilson #james rhodes #natasha romanov #sharon carter #maria hill #pining #unrequited love #tony is a dummy #but we love him #TONY NOT EVERYONE KNOWS YOU CALL YOUR HUSBAND HONEYBEAR OR PLATYPUS #MAKE SURE THEY KNOW YOU HAVE A HUSBAND #ALSO #go get some

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violetsystems · 4 years

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#personal

Because of the Internet, cycles of things don’t really follow the same pattern as the older generation is used to. They think they know obviously. Their favorite game is called human capital and we are the pawns, bishops and knights on the chessboard for them to sacrifice. I’m forced to read a lot of financial opinions as an outsider. For somebody in the aforementioned camp, Mario Gabelli had at least acknowledged that the Fortnite generation has been slowly growing up. Apps like Robinhood have opened the market up to steal your hard earned pennies. And then accounts get hacked, money gets stolen, and the older generation laughs and shakes it’s head. You stupid kids and your lack of motivation. If you didn’t spend all your time living your life instead of making us money. I think he forgets like most boomers do that there’s an entire generation after them that was born and bred on Tron. I didn’t land into the stock market after playing Call of Duty with my bros to be honest. I melted down a twenty year pension from a place of employment that ghosted, derezzed and ignored my entire identity. Other people might have traded online through simulations, harvested their bitcoin at the behest of their electric bill or just have rich parents, I’m not like other people. We all have figured this out after how many years of writing these to an invisible tribunal of amazing people. I often read these other perspectives about the financial industry controlled by pundits, investors, and people who generally talk down to the little person like me. We are what people refer to as “the retail investor.” We’re written about like the plague mostly because nobody can really control our strategies or bully us into submission. Much of the idea of retirement is hinged on investments in America. Social Security is about to run out at some point. My generation will probably be the first to see my government stiff the bill and run away. Corporations and working for them at times can be a whirlwind of interconnected dots. Money and loss on paper becomes a zero sum shell game for the rich. It’s not about the work you do. It’s about the money you spend for them. Donald Trump took a loss for almost two decades which is incidentally how long I was gainfully employed. A typical artist in America can take a hobby loss for up to five years. The same artists with no healthcare to speak of. The fiscal cliff that we all dread is nowhere reflected in the markets. Neither is the actual driving force behind their profit. America is a consumer based economy and America is simultaneously shrinking and bursting at the seams. These are all stitched together by a frail, aging ideology that doesn’t want to let go. Generation X’ers like myself are used to being forgotten about. I travelled the world looking for someone to look at me as more than a number. And now people follow me around because I’m a name on their company registry. But nobody really ever speaks to me directly. I’m a dataset and a demographic that only speaks as a number on paper. Until I do things that the financial elite can’t stand. I make a decision that is based on things they don’t value. I choose to put my money elsewhere. And this is why people hate us. Because you can’t speculate on chaos that you do not control. And America is simply profit off of speculation which is a value amounted to 20.83 trillion dollars in debt. Which doesn’t sound much like it’s in control of anything except printing money.

I grew up on computers. My mother helped me start my first bulletin board system. I had my very first phone line in my bedroom around the time wargames came out. I used to post the number on boards before I had even set up a system like Telegard. I would advertise it like a mysterious military site out of a Gibson book. People would call and the modem would pick up the carrier tone and dump them to a blank monochrome screen. From there my twelve year old self would punk people into thinking I was an AI. Years later I found a twenty year career in Information Technology in the Arts which abandoned me in a wholly disturbing way. My knowledge of computers still stayed and those skills kept me alive in these times. I grew up playing games because I had no friends and suffered horrible bullying. I was an only child who was ridiculously intelligent but often quiet and ignored. Years later it’s not so much different. The bullying is still out there. America rewards the loud and the forthcoming mostly because it is too lazy to seek out the nuances. Convenience has warped America’s attention span beyond the regular flow of time. Computers and connection over the years have rapidly accelerated the dominance of these ideals. Jobs exist all over the world these days. Most of the ones I’ve been interested in have been in China. But due to the circumstances of my situation, I was forced to take a larger sum of income this year than I would have liked. Sounds terrible right? No shortage of people trying to scam me into spending it. Any further income accrued this year becomes taxed horribly. Ironically, the Illinois fair tax law changes the game even further as retirement income was not taxed before the amendment. If passed, any retirement income that was not with held will be owed. Another round of layoffs to liquidate pensions from the bottom line in cities like ours will definitely affect people worse than me down the road. I’ve been stumbling through the process alone since the end of July. A lot of what I had done was to part out and budget money in my own way playing a waiting game that I’ve grown used to in my life. I am at the peak of stagnancy at the moment. Staring out at another blank screen typing into the void every week while people lift bits and pieces for their own convenient narrative of me and my value in human capital. Headhunters no longer stalk the internet. They follow you around in the street with forced intimidation expecting you to read into what they think you deserve to spend the rest of your life doing. All the while trying to wrap you up back into an ecosystem for less pay, shrinking benefits, and an economic ecosystem of investments of both human and monetary. Debtors are paired with debtors. Marriages are arranged for tax purposes and rich oligarchs with political ties find more ways to pay less. And yet they never really understand the power of connection they do not have. They don’t communicate. They project. They expect you to believe that we’re all in this together when they never hear a word you say. The only time they listen is when you take your money away. I’m single. Never been married. An only child. And pretty much an exile on Wall Street with more liquidity and equity suddenly than most people in America. And much like everyone paying more taxes to a government that has basically turned into a formulaic limp dick reality show.

A reality show that treats me like the Babadook at best these days. I can’t even leave my house anymore without somebody following me or watching me. I realize this might just be the hazards of my next pivot into global employment. I thought these long forms of prose were enough of a background check for the FBI at this point. It’s called “transparency and accountability” Scully. I realize ethics aren’t a valuable skill in America. But the utter lack of human emotion for my situation speaks volumes to me. And it should be a wakeup call for most who live and work in this dangerous time. They really don’t give a fuck about us in such a comedic way that they don’t realize our power. Our power is confidence and they find ways to undermine it. Tell you that you aren’t beautiful enough so that you spend more money on things you do not need. Ignore and isolate you until you breakdown and ask for their help. Until you treat yourself in bankruptcy so they can print more money. These times are abusive at best in a way that I have never been prepared for. But those on top don’t really understand how it feels to be under the thumb for years. I do. Corporations aren’t human and neither are most rich people. I realize that life here is literally all about money. Last night was a very good example of that when I read the news about a game I played shutting down. I cried because it was the only thing connecting me to anything social without being overbearing and weird. And I had invested a sizeable amount of my pension in the thought that this might keep the ecosystem alive. The lesser of two evils of investing. Put money where you think it will be used fairly and wisely. Water the garden and watch it grow. The amazon stock is literally over three grand per share. They own everything. They’ve shattered their profits due to the shift from COVID to delivery. Small businesses shutter. Hard artistic work is pissed to the wind. And people like myself are left to wonder why the fuck Jeff Bezos needs any more money from me to treat me like a fucking lab rat. These companies do not give a fuck about you as a person. They want your money. They want to leverage your image, your words, your narrative to push something that doesn’t benefit you at all. There is no excuse for me to be invisible after all these years let alone from what happened to me in July. And yet, there is no real way to get back at it. Other than to completely divest from something that only hurts. Capitalism is funny that way. It desperately wants your participation to stay alive. A two trillion dollar company like Apple cares only about the cut for their investors not the art that drives these bricks that become obsolete in two years. The reason the old generation is contentious to us is that we see the scam in broad daylight. We trolled you behind the scenes. And when we learn the truth, it hurts. We can always hurt back. I divest. I decouple. I wonder what motivates me as a human being and not a bottom line for some rich fuck who got their way scamming people into thinking they’re worth less so they could have more. The internet moves pretty fast. It can all fall apart in a keystroke. And these people will still be making excuses and not staring us point blank in the eye. I’ll still be playing video games and you’ll still be investing in what you think you know about me. Which last time I checked is jack shit other than the fact that it’s safe enough to plant a nuclear physicist under my apartment for a year without me knowing. Shall we play a game? See you at the opening bell Jeff!

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littlepurinsesu · 4 years

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V Watches MagiReco - Episode 8 Review

*Spoilers for Magia Record Anime Episode 8*

Okay, I was not expecting to enjoy this week’s episode as much as I did! :O From the anime’s pattern so far, I was fully expecting a slower episode with less action as they introduced the next main character (in this case Sana), but this episode had a lot of deviations from the game that did a lot of good, in my opinion!

Lots of positive things to say again for this review ^0^ And no, it’s not just because of that Kanagi “cameo” (even though there WILL be at least one paragraph of me screaming about that LOL you have been warned) xD

I think the slower pace of this episode gave us a really good chance to see how the main characters have adjusted and truly integrated themselves into their new lives. We see Iroha starting at her new school, Felicia starting her part-time job at Banbanzai, Tsuruno visiting to deliver bento boxes for Iroha and the two going to school together... so many small details that seem unimportant to the plot but really give us a good picture of the characters’ new lives and relationships. And that’s really important stuff. They seem to have taken a longer time and really drew out the introduction of this new Rumour rather than immediately rushing into the next one, and this gives the main cast some room to breathe and just be themselves, and also gives the audience a sense of some time having passed as well.

It was also really nice to see Rena back! Seems strange to me that Momoko wasn’t with her, but I was starting to worry that Momoko’s team would be forgotten and pushed to the background, so I was quite pleased to see them still popping up every now and then. The episode also gave us some quality Iroha and Rena bonding, which is kind of bittersweet when you consider that both of them either don’t have friends or always find themselves somehow isolated from the crowd. Rena is still a prickly little tsundere, but seeing her waiting for Iroha and giving her more information and talking with her really put a smile on my face :) I really want Rena and Iroha to be able to make more friends, and it’s super cute when the new friends are none other than each other ^^

Also, the thing about Kaede is really interesting. I’m sure this is an anime-original plot point, but I’m wondering how this is going to tie in with Sana’s arc, or any other part of the Main Story. Rena confirms that Kaede hasn’t actually disappeared; she still comes to school, but rushes home immediately after and doesn’t talk or reply to anyone. We also see her at home with all her plants at the beginning (cute!). I’m guessing she’s still traumatised from that Doppel experience and hasn’t figured out what’s going on, so is too afraid of getting close to her friends in fear of hurting them? Whatever they’re planning, I hope it has some relevance to that post-credits scene in episode 5 so we get some closure to what actually happened and the scene won’t seem so “cool but random” lmao.

Alright imma get this out of the way. (Feel free to skip this paragraph if you’re not interested in hearing me gush about my queen.) K A N A G I I Z U M I. If anyone reading this has been following my past MagiReco posts or knows anything about me at all, you’ll know that I’m absolute trash for Kanagi Izumi xD My best girl may be Iroha, but Kanagi is a character I really admire, respect, and adore. Anyway, I saw the official MagiReco Twitter account post about a Kanagi rate-up banner and was hella confused but excited because my queen was not supposed to appear until... at least until Tsuruno is captured by the Magius and Felicia and Sana have returned. So I guess it makes sense that it was in the form of a “mysterious person on the phone” rather than an actual debut, but gosh as soon as I heard her voice I almost lost it AHHHHHHHHHH （♥>ｏ<♥） This eases any fears I had of her being cut from the anime (I would have hunted down the studio if they made that decision LOL); not only is she not gonna be cut, but they gave her a surprise, mysterious, early introduction, too?!?!? YASSSSS (ᗒᗨᗕ)

Yachiyo’s phonecall with Kanagi is a surprising change to make because Kanagi’s presence is really “not very relevant” at this point, but I guess they really wanted to show how big the Wings of Magius' influence is. As Kanagi says, they’ve taken most of the girls from the East by now. I’m wondering what anime-onlys would feel about this scene, since they probably have no idea who Yachiyo is talking to. If anything, it would probably add to the mystery surrounding Yachiyo (which I hope the anime goes into soon). I was a little conflicted at first because I really wanted Yachiyo’s first contact with Kanagi to seem like a “we haven’t spoken in ages but desperate times call for desperate measures” kind of thing, because with this scene, the next time they "openly” contact her won’t have that same impact. But then the more I think about it, the more I think this might actually be for the better. Kanagi’s introduction into the cast won’t feel like such a “random” thing (like, “oh wait, who are you and since when were you so important?”); Yachiyo has been in some degree of contact with her and she was “there" all along. So yeah, a good change in retrospect, and I’m never gonna say no to seeing (or hearing) more of Kanagi so I’m all for this change either way LOL

Okay enough rambling about Kanagi (OTL I’m so sorry). Felicia working at Banbanzai is just SO CUTE!!! She’s like a cute little gangster omg those glares and “HUHHH?!?!?” (I’d be scared too, Iroha) xD I think the character that’s gotten the best portrayal in the anime so far really is Felicia. And also the reveal that the reason for her getting into a fight and being sent to the police station was because she was defending Yachiyo and Iroha? CUTEEE OMG I LOVE THIS CHILD!!! She also has a really good sense of fashion hehe :D

The little snippet in there with Ui, Touka, and Nemu may seem a little out of place, but I was actually quite relieved to see them. Every week the anime is throwing new characters at its viewers, so I was worried that anime-only viewers wouldn’t even remember who Touka and Nemu are when they’re eventually revealed to be the Magius. I think it’s good to keep drilling them into viewers’ minds so as not to lose that “OMGGG” factor when they make their proper debut. Also it’s adorable how Ui throws teddy bears in their faces to stop them from arguing LOLLL

The radio show was a really good way to not only sneak in tiny “cameos” of other girls (I think it was Rika and Kanoko this week), but also give a nice picture of life in Kamihama. There’s a sense that Iroha really is a part of this city now, and it’s such a nice feeling to see everything “falling into place;” we’re no longer in those inconsistent and uncertain “introductory” episodes anymore, even though we still have one more major character to bring in. And the laughter coming from the phone is super creepy--cute, but in a really creepy way. All the illustrations for when they were talking about the Rumours this week were also really, really well-done. I have nothing much to say about them except “sasuga Inucurry” haha xD

I really was expecting Madoka and Homura to appear this week, but I guess we may have to wait a little bit more for that >_< BUT Tsukuyo did appear again in her “civilian” form! Iroha chasing her into that building was also a really nice change the anime made; some things really need to be animated for full impact, and I’m loving these minor changes and how much more they add to the characters and atmosphere! Anyway, Tsukuyo seems a lot more menacing here compared to her dine-and-dash incident in the game lmaooo, and I wasn’t expecting a Witch battle!

Speaking of Witch battle, I think this might be one of my main letdowns with this episode: I just really want to see Iroha fight more. I appreciate that she’s proactive in seeking answers and brave enough to jump into these situations despite knowing that she’s weak, but she hasn’t really contributed much in battles so far except a few Connects and using her Doppel. I want to see my girl Iroha go all-out and kick ass with her arrows!!! But it was nice to see the rest of Team Mikazuki showing up so quickly; there’s a real sense of them being an actual team now, and they’ve always got each other’s backs! It would have been nice if the rest of the team got to fight as well rather than Yachiyo taking all the spotlight, but at least Yachiyo was super cool haha (as usual). But the battle clearly isn’t the point of this episode, so I won’t pick on it too much :)

By the way, that Mami appearance was super random. When I saw the ribbons and flowers, I almost thought she was going to appear as Holy Mami for a second. At least we know she hasn’t lost her head just yet ;) The appearance was random, but from what they offered, at least we know that Mami is still either in Kamihama or coming to Kamihama regularly to investigate, and while she was suspicious of Iroha in the past, she went out of her way to help her this time, which was a nice touch.

Anyway, now that Iroha has finally replied to the mysterious messages, we might really get to meet Sana (and Ai-chan) next time! Maybe Madoka and Homura, too! But yeah, this episode is a prime example of one where not much seems to happen, but a lot actually does happen and there’s plenty to pull apart and discuss when you really think back on it. Clearly Kanagi took half my attention and feels this week, but I’m definitely having lots of warm and fuzzies seeing Team Mikazuki doing normal, everyday things together. Seeing Felicia added to the OP was expected but still a treat (the way she bobs around on the spot is SO CUTE!), and I can’t wait for the family to finally be fully formed!

(Also, Yachiyo looks gorgeous in anything she wears, seriously.)

#magia record #magireco #puella magi madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica side story #pmmm #fandom #mine #anime #review #magia record review #v watches magireco

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deviationdivine · 5 years

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Wake Up | domestic!Android AU Part 1 (Connor x Reader)

gif by arsuf

F!reader x Connor

13.6k words

Detroit: Become Human - 1 Year Anniversary Release Celebration

A revolution may divide the city but it will never divide you...

tw: Angst, Fluffy Connor in the midst, Language, Suggestive Themes, Violence

a/n: First part of mini-series AU “Wake Up”. An introductory chapter one. Apologies for how long this took but I struggled and I am not happy with the end result. However, it’s finally here. • Connor is the latest high tech domestic model built with a collection of extra features, skills and functions making him the most advanced of his kind. As your personal assistant he is equipped with becoming the perfect partner if you so require. Falling in love with your personal android was never part of the equation nor was his break into deviancy...

“My name is Connor. I am your personal assistant. My features will allow me to take extensive care of your home, do the cooking, mind children and repair any problematic issues that arise within the household’s utilities.

As I am the most advanced make I can perform various tasks including but not limited to acts of a sexual nature. If you so require I am capable of being the perfect partner…”

Perfect is a conceptual illusion in every sense or so you come to believe. Why do humans think in terms of excellence when most shining examples tarnish in glaring flaws? Even technology can be made wrong or needing improvement not long after distribution. Faulty wiring, danger of overheating and causing harm of a radioactive proponent all seem minuscule in comparison.

Today, in the future, there is a grander blueprint mapping out the most innovative, extreme to date.

When it becomes alive, mimics the very corporeal state of being born unto humans since man breathed life in this vast universe, mirroring visage of those who wish to create in their likeness.

How does it go from technological wonder to abstruse thinking? Concepts can be a greater weapon. They can also reach for too much too soon. Is this the true state of AI meant for consumer consumption?

Cart them off exclusively as merchandise no matter how human they look. Isn’t that their appeal? The more something foreign, inexplicable but resembles us the more it is accepted. Basic instinctual deep thinking bred into all humans. Difference is an attest beneath surface value. Judge a book by a cover but if there are features hiding its distinct nature by all means use it.

Laziness might be a better solution in this mathematical equation. Imperfect perfection makes way for future development. Those are the very elements that change the world.

Can you even imagine for one second, one little point in life it would come to change yours? So small in a world full of billions but here in Detroit home of Cyberlife and its creation the pilot sparks. Alight with technological revolution.

Androids are here. Androids are owned. Bought as slaves to humanity and used beyond measure, no consideration that those made in image could possibly develop feelings. Emotions are heavy. They are what make us all human. Can machine truly become human?

You never wanted one. Mostly it made you uncomfortable witnessing cruelty by specific ‘owners’ on the bustling city streets. It’s everywhere. Even today, chillier, more specifically a frigidity creeping into bones.

Eyes shift over a couple walking briskly as you draw coat closer together up throat. Keeping wind seeping through to tangle around your body but watching them waltz their merry way without care. Of course they have none. Their female android, an AX400 to be exact, is taking care of two rowdy children.

Honestly it must be nice. Not having to parent after deciding to add more to the burdening populace. Maybe that’s just your pessimism talking. Simple fact though? Could be that too but who knows?

Just another one of those days but it is about to change drastically. Passing a Cyberlife store does pique curiosity. Window displays my God. They line them up as if that’s all they are.

They offer whatever a human wants and yet not all can bother to treat them fairly. Is it enough androids are made to look as everyone else? Would a genuine human being treat another so despicably? Yes. A resounding yes because it never goes away. People treat people with disdain for every reason, every prejudice and why should that shock? Androids have become an additional target.

Honestly it makes you sick. Never did you once realize this is what would change things completely. On this very day, minding business walking home from another tiring bustle

More than one occurrence struck you right in the gut. A previous household model absorbs brunt of obscenities and physical humiliation. A scene like this turned your stomach.

The moment it came to intervene you received an interrupting phone call. Unfortunately this was the start of big changes in your life.

What does one do discovering death of a relative? Closeness is a fundamental of familial connections. For you? Well, let’s say it didn’t quite work out.

“What do you mean he…died?” Answering in a quiet breath, cell phone a tight clutch in hand stalling in breezy climate, everything stops around your personal orbit.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” a familiar voice speaks over your ingenious disbelief.

Ignoring your pleas for a proper answer it becomes increasingly cruel on the woman’s breath digging truths in your ear. Whether she realizes this or not it’s up for debate. “You do realize this was coming. It isn’t as if he were young and healthy. Frankly, I am surprised you are having such a negative reaction.”

Negative is exactly the type of reaction! What does she expect? “Of course I’m having a reaction!” Practically screaming into your phone made the chilled air sting worse. How is this happening? How can this even be real?

“Oh, it’s all right, Y/N. Get it out now. It’ll be better if you don’t make a scene at the funeral.”

Anger is a burning pyre ready to fan over and incinerate. One snide comment reminds how much you can’t stand this person. She’s not even blood related. An ‘aunt’ isn’t technically qualified to hold the title and that’s fine. Just another excuse to dig at you in this family but there is no family left. Your father – he’s dead.

Money fixes everything? Unlikely but still nothing surprises you more than receiving something from an estranged parent. Generous sums to a black sheep or as you’re sure greedy auntie bitch of the hour calls you behind your back. She is one woman who deserves that damn moniker. Especially when it’s clear there are no connections left. Aunt Cruella, as christened ages ago by your best friend, made short work of your uncle. Certainly bled him dry continues to do so with his left over money after he succumbed to stress in a massive heart attack. Why do people like her thrive using, snide and heartless while others –?

What can you do then? Except you fall into an overwhelming sense of losing time and never extending an olive branch. Why is the universe so cruel? Why can’t you turn back time, forget every stupid thing that ever happened to drive a rift?

Part of you couldn’t stand the idea of being alone rest of your life. Maybe that’s why using part of a small deposit felt right. Watching so many gradually fall into current technological commercialism lead to most having their own android. It seems almost a little too barbaric making them cater to every whim. Honestly, you have no idea why this is needed. Do you really need him?

No, he isn’t… He. Yes, he.

Despite manufacturing Connor is a he in every sense. Even then you saw as much. Now is much more complicated or you are just as ridiculously naive as you’ve always been told. Who cares about naivety? It is simple opinion. No. This is a belief one that surely would have left nothing to you in an event of final family member’s passing. Yet here you are with him.

You recall when he first arrives unaware of how efficient Cyberlife retail truly is. Why should you be surprised? Deliveries have gone from generic dairy of yesteryear, beyond personalized grocery orders and straight to personalized beings. Androids: alive or not alive?

In conjunction with preprogramming he sounds so lively. In his voice a natural husky dulcet and his eyes a deep soulful brown. Souls in androids are impossible but it’s the only way you think to describe warm chocolate. Hotter than a mug of it steeped in whip cream vanishes as a ghost beneath steaming liquid.

Flecks of caramel shine in hypnotic swirls enriching accents of russets in muddy hues, the very first thing captivating attention as he offers his list of functions. Even falling upon the last is difficult to decipher how caught up you are in a consummately asymmetrical visage.

He is far too pretty to look at and you try to ignore these facts. The facts of your newly purchased personal android possessing an aura of physical attractiveness. A fabrication in aesthetics you remember. A way to cover up what he actually is beneath soft synthetic skin dusted as constellations of freckles.

Tiny beauties cresting upon sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, purposely formed to elicit a reaction. This is not at all what you expected but it’s never something to forget. Little do you realize in this moment Connor will always burn brightest to memory? Little do you understand how events will unfold but they shall.

“Is there a problem?” he asks habitual to programming.

Societal protocols run a gamut through system piecing together the best course of action. It is only his first day interior of your home. He is of a sense of determination to complete whatever task you assign.

Determination is not part of proper function. However, he minded the concept. It will be efficient for current issue. “I may be able to rectify your issue. What do you require of me?”

Require? What?

You cough, inhaling sharply at his head cocking so innocently. A droop of hair flutters atop forehead as a sole rebel willing to fight immaculate armies. He is very well put together. Not that you mean the whole manufactured part! He just – looks like a really good looking guy who takes care of his appearance. Hair mostly but…

Wow, Y/N. Real nice for your first try at handling a conversation with an android.

Not that this is the first android you’ve been in contact with. Difficult not to be when they’re all over but as your very own?

OK Cyberlife! What is up with making him look like real life Prince Charming? I mean look at this perfection. Is this required? Are they allowed to do this to poor unsuspecting humans?

Watching his brows furrow and LED flutter amber somehow pumps the beats of heart faster. Surely it’s a dead giveaway. It’s not every day you’re cursing Cyberlife for practically throwing a chiseled Greek god at you.

Oh, shit, really? Greek God? What the hell is wrong with you? What isn’t wrong with you?

You sigh, clicking tongue at yourself. Frustration doesn’t begin with this!

“Your stress levels are high,” Connor offers a reading of initial scan. “Would you like me to remedy the problem? I have several possible functions that may reduce anxiety. My model comes with every physical attribute you are familiar with in human anatomy.”

A hitch stoppers breathing. Just enough as eyes widen a little at his declaration. Human anatomy as in…? Oh. OH.

Your eyes shift down. Fixating right on his crotch sends a luscious shiver through body. Goosebumps prickle skin, hair standing up on them. First time in forever you’ve had this type of reaction. Not even your ex managed to make you quiver like this. Not that your mind is even there because that’s been over for so long. Frankly that cheating asshole can have his baby momma all to himself. Probably already banged a couple more unsuspecting fools; you clear throat, scratchier than before.

“Connor, that-that’s really nice!” Agreeing with him that he has nice features you laugh nervously. It’s the first day he’s been here and already he’s mentioning his, uh, included *assets* and it’s not his beautiful eyes either. Ah, shit. Why is he made to be a young, attractive male? “But I don’t think that’s necessary. Not right now.”

It only takes a moment before you hear what came out of your mouth. Right now meaning it’ll be fine later?

“Which isn’t to say I’ll need it later!” Damage control is literally a creator of chaos. Can he just not look so sweet giving these heady ideas? “Just come with me. You’ll need a place to stay. I mean, you are staying here but I mean…” Shit! He’s made this impossible without stammering all over the place. Who gives him the right?

The android’s lips drop open, inevitably looking to provide another set of options but he snaps his mouth shut. Blinking in assessment of his actions to “argue” with your dismissal, Connor pushes away several warnings popping into visual. They are unexpected and not part of his programming.

Instead of speaking he follows your lead, gaze soft and quizzical. Trailing as a newly trained puppy the latest model of Cyberlife’s domestic line becomes further entranced with chirping outside window. No longer able to abide by strict attention he tilts his head at passing pane. Sounds of birds in song flitter and perch on external sill; one ruffles its feathers cleaning with its beak. The other stands still.

He freezes. Both in movement and system analysis he is however conscious of two live creatures. Opposite of android pets universally made available for public sale. His database offers much information outfitting him with the fundamental needs of intelligence and sophistication in his programmed function.

Reaching to open a door you stop when his presence behind you feels empty. It was obvious when he followed but now?

“Connor?”

Cycling indicator fluctuates upon the command of your voice. He snaps around in direction of soft tone. Softer than accustomed since his distribution from Cyberlife shipping to physical store location was riddled with aggressive bystanders. He-he is not meant to mull over his awakening. It does not make him feel anything. No, he is an android. He feels nothing. He is a machine.

Clinical cold manifests deeply behind blocks, barricades in protocols. Connor pushes this strange tickle back underneath wires.

“Apologies for not obeying you, Y/N. It will not happen again. I am efficient.” Nagging at him, strange and uncorrelated to system status, he almost sounds…tense. Connor straightens shoulders, folding hands neatly against lower back. “I was made to be the best of my particular type of domestic models. As an AX800, I am programmed to be a superior prototype.”

Obeying you?

That happens to be the only words you focus on. His choice of them ripple uncomfortably, nearly squeamish in stomach. Is this how you sound? Are you affecting a command or-? No, it’s what he is made to know. That’s the thing. All androids are only made to serve and immediately regret comes back. Maybe you shouldn’t have bought him.

Bought! God, you’re just like those people now. Aren’t you?

No more excuses. No more seeing horrible mistreatment and vowing never to be like them. Even if you never would do any harm losing your father, when you never spoke anymore anyway, still you fear loneliness. Estrangement ruins lives. It really does. What do you have left now? Except for yourself to fend in this world and growing more complicated as the future rambles on.

Detroit is a bustling mix of dilapidated districts, high tech innovations, Cyberlife Tower most significant in those builds. This house is small. Tucked away in a tiny neighborhood away from inner city but you never complain. You are grateful. A roof over the head is the best gift in a mostly gift devoid world.

“Connor, please don’t call it obeying. I-I only wanted to see if you were OK.” Admitting the hesitation beforehand you feel antsy. His LED is blue again but it was amber finding him staring at window.

“My system is fully operational,” he assures, forcing his lips to form a smile.

In actuality his little gesture is a stiff grimace. Eyebrows rise at his attempt. Even if it looks goofy, which is completely not his fault, it’s very – cute.

Again with this! Never mind just focus for once. Pretty comical coming from someone who hardly meditates in the day to day; you step backwards, slipping through threshold, eyes remaining on him. It takes ever ounce of willpower to remain collected. Things are still hard to digest. No matter if it’s been a couple months tangling with all of that legal stuff. Auntie not by blood sure didn’t make it any better. Yet, here you are. Still you stand even while stress is overworking at a job that might as well kill you first.

Offices are pretty dull to work in. At least they would be if they were not a regular cushy job. Piles of paperwork, demands creep up to swallow whole, a boss who just will not stop making things harsher. Mister perfectionist belittles the lower tier all the time. No surprise but it seems the future isn’t as bright as people thought it would. No need to wear shades.

Moving toward window, pulling curtains open a bit to allow sunshine transitions atmosphere from dreary to somewhat cheery. Perfect mask to hide the real truth isn’t it? Sometimes you forget how good you are that. A small smile camouflages best.

You rub hands against the thighs of your jeans. A little sweaty because of nerves but today is big. Being alone always hardly prepares for constant company. Well, he’s meant to be here permanently. That is the initial idea.

“This can be your room.”

Connor’s brow furrows. Studying your movements upon entry, analyzing vitals and their continual fluctuations, the android is confused. His indicator cycles to process the statement as unexpectedly inclusive as it is. “I do not require a room. I am an android.”

Somehow that reaction is to be expected. You sigh, “Just because you’re an android doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have something of your own.”

Ownership is not given to his kind. They are machines. Concepts of acquiring personal effects do not make sense nor are necessary. Connor voices this as per factual protocol. “Thank you for the offer but I am a machine. Machines have no need for accommodations.”

Yes, of course he’s a machine but…

Machine, manufactured and sold without an ounce of actual soul according to android haters you see. Picketing with their signs, so angry about them taking jobs but who made them? They did. Humans decided to and no one complained. Why complain about a technological marvel that can mow your grass, do the dishes and babysit children while living carelessly. That is the difference. Between you and plenty of others there has always been a divide in what you feel. This just crashes down those so-called fantasies. Ones filtering into brain as tiny wisps and at first it was a nice distraction. Finding him so…

“Oh,” a whisper, dawning realization. He is – a machine.

Coming back to the door, grabbing onto handle, you decide to forget the suggestion.

Something sharp stabs at his internal processors. Listening to such a dull syllable slipping almost – upset? Humans’ need for validity and comfort seem to be all too natural. They are highly emotional. The android steps close, head cocked, fingers pressing against surface of door preventing your need to shut it.

Contemplating left him at a cross roads in his programming. He is meant to function specifically and does not need or want anything as you believe. However, he-he could not refuse. It would be impolite. “I- very well, Y/N. I did not meant to be unpleasant. My social parameters are not meant to alarm.”

Alarm? That is not why you… Your breath hitches. Realizing how close he is standing, invading personal space and if it were anyone else? Allowing him is both a conscious need for closeness while still mourning and an illusion. Live up to that woman’s ideas. The title of ‘aunt’ is undeserving.

“Thank you, Connor.”

“You are welcome,” he snaps back to his programming. “What sort of tasks do you have scheduled for me to complete?”

“Scheduled? I, uh…” Shaking a head at his question is clarity. Honestly you are not used to giving tasks to people. Tasks are dropped on your desk until you down. A huff of breath, accompanied with snort is more for yourself. It does garner the most adorable expression on his face. “Maybe you could just…talk to me? For now?”

Connor’s eyebrows scrunch together. His facial expressions capture attention driving the tempo of your heart. He does not understand why. “Are we not speaking already?”

You laugh not at him but his innocent little response there is – Oh. No.

It only deepens sadness in you now. Knowing where he came from and his confusion in you wanting a little companionship. Androids aren’t supposed to make friends are they? Even if they’re specifically programmed or upgraded to be partners. He mentioned that before.

Luckily a vibration against your thigh saves you. Reaching to pull phone from pocket your eyes train up to his and take a needful exhale. “Sorry, Connor, I have to take this.”

Connor moves aside out of your path. Remaining stationary, hands folded neatly, he awaits further instruction. However, the android’s eyes shift sideways at the sound of your voice outside room. Amber floods his temple.

“Why are you calling me now? No, I’m not wallowing! It’s called mourning. Maybe if you figured out what it was when my uncle died all those years ago you wouldn’t need a dictionary for it.” Hissing fire into phone attacks your aunt by marriage equally. Soon as you pick up! She just had to get in another word.

Why does she feel the need for this? What’s the point anymore? “No. What do you want exactly? Is this about the trust fund again? I’m using a part to pay bills. What do you think I’m doing?”

Living expenses are still the same old problem. Must be nice for the rich their multi-billion dollar corporations feeding on tech. Just look at Cyberlife.

“It doesn’t matter,” you make it abundantly clear. Does she believe she’s that intimidating? Newsflash to miss upper crust but this labeled black sheep doesn’t take shit from people! “We might’ve had a rocky relationship but I loved him.”

Loved? Connor freezes in corridor. Disobeying processes to offer potential aid in obvious distress he finds himself…curious at such words.

“We were family. What do you think? Don’t you have enough blood money to spend on your Eden Club bots old woman?” Ending it on your terms this time does not fulfill you at all. Always the winner isn’t she? Rubbing it in your face about his death and if your father were here he wouldn’t let it happen. Whatever distances, issues it wouldn’t change that.

“Y/N?”

Connor’s quizzical tone jolts your weary bones. Inhaling sharply, not at all used to this tiny home being occupied by more than one but a heavy swallow fixes your voice. How long was he there? Did he hear all of that? Oh, great.

“I’m fine.” An automatic response always on autopilot gets the job done for you.

He narrows eyes. “Stress is not a healthy component in the balance of human’s…”

“Just leave me alone, Connor!” You snap, tears pricking corners of your eyes before twirling around to run upstairs.

^Software Instability

Connor freezes momentarily. Flooding, filtering in a ripple through code blocks, he blinks in quick succession. Blinding and strange it is not part of his program –

Unable to run diagnostics, tears sparkling in your eyes draw his attention, overtaking protocol. The android’s soft gaze shifts from following your quick disappearance to ceiling indicating footsteps that conclude in a bang. Seemingly you have sealed yourself away. Scarlet pulsates in intervals mingling with amber processing solutions. Leaving you alone is an instruction. He-he cannot ignore. It is what he is programmed for. You are crying. Why must he obey? He must…

>Obey

>Leave Alone

“Is there anything else you would like?” He asks as sun dips in later hours. Accomplish several menial tasks which he is free to do as he constructs.

Following your distress several hours ago he feels – confliction. Few commands escape your lips and at times he is unsure with his current scheduling. Abilities are not in question but you appear distant. Did he do something wrong? By wanting to comfort…

>Analyzing: Y/L/N, Y/N

Stress: 31.6%

Blood Pressure: 124/80

Studying your face after initializing a vital scan enables Connor to store analysis records. Sleep deprivation, iron deficiency and higher stress than the human body should experience.

“Connor.” You straighten from your position curled upon couch. Mostly you tuck into one side, resting into upholstery and your breathing exhales shaky. Trying to rest off a headache isn’t working. “No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

The android nods but pauses in thought. A fluid habit now out into the world. Yet, he has yet to see much. Only transferring from lab to warehouse storage and ultimately on display in a merchandise kiosk for Cyberlife; he is not widely available as of yet. Detroit is the originator of androids. The product mark on his white uniform christens his manufacturing origins: Made in Detroit.

“There are other functions I was built with,” he explains enthusiastically. “If you would like a domestic partner, it is one of my features.”

Rubbing at your temples ceases the moment he speaks. A domestic partner? Is he talking about that thing again? You draw breath. Unable to look at him now, feeling it twist in stomach, you uncurl, pressing feet on floor.

“No!” Quickly you cover the rise in heartbeat.

It is so obvious. Wouldn’t be the first time stumbling across sexual depravity in humans. Look no further than the Eden Club. The fact they decided to make that a thing for a household model is honestly not a shock.

God, why do they live in this world? Why do you even have him here? Isn’t this just making you as horrible as everyone else?

“No,” you repeat softer. “I’d never force you to do something like that.”

It is not forcing when he is programmed, installed with such features. They are high end. As several techs discussed ignoring his presence as though he were – merchandise. Androids are sold. He knows this but has never had a moment to process.

There is zero need. Androids do not think freely. They are constructs built for specific purposes and his are fundamentally clear. He has never performed these functions as he is brand new but Connor feels he can ease stress efficiently.

Thinking solely as a machine built for a task did not hold true. He felt…strange at your refusal. “Am I not aesthetically pleasing?” Cocking his head, knitting brows together, Connor looks expectantly to you for validation.

Lifting eyes up to him your lips fall open at his question. Did he really ask that? Are androids supposed o ask those kinds of questions? It almost as though he was hurt by that. No, it’s just imagination. Today has been too tiring. Never would have gone so wrong if that woman didn’t call. Honestly answering was your mistake. Story of a sad little life but others have it worse.

Humans will always be crawling through turmoil, unable to breathe depending on their situations. Maybe that’s why a little part of you wishes he was human. At least acts without programs but this is why he’s here. To fulfill a fantasy, cater to every whim?

No. To rectify personal aches to pretend that someone is here to offer a shoulder. When there has been nothing going through your father’s death, legal dealings with assets and pressure in job.

“No,” squeezing eyes shut to battle tension, your voice is low. “I mean, yes of course you’re aesthetically pleasing. I mean…you’re handsome. Practically the most…”

What? Beautiful boy you have ever seen? There comes that illusion. They do that on purpose but somehow looking at him you don’t see a machine. How funny is that?

“That isn’t why, Connor.”

Getting up from couch, taking deep breaths and stepping clear of coffee table helps focus. Rubbing palms against face at least wipes away some mess. Eyes are puffy, red from an unnecessary outburst earlier. At certain points life reaches boiling and yelling at him to leave you alone twists in guilt. This is exactly the sort of things Auntie Bitch thrives on.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize to him. Even if it would make no difference it does to you. “This isn’t what I’m used to. Having someone else here.”

Well, after deadbeat ex anyway but he was a typical freeloader. Thankfully you scrubbed his dirt out of life and home.

“I’ve never done this before. Having an android I mean. Ordering you to do something that you have no control over is not the type of person I am.” Plus, it’s not as if the androids at those sex clubs have a say. “I’d never do that to you or any of your people. Like some humans would.”

People. A human way to look at him or other androids but that is incorrect. Why would you refer-?

^Software Instability

Connor blinks. The error message was in his vision only briefly and the little blue arrow increasing shudders through his system. He opens his mouth but does not respond. Instead, his eyes fall to your back turning away, pacing in additional stress.

Immediately, the android steps over, placing a hand against your arm. “Y/N, I apologize. Please, do not be upset. Your blood pressure is slightly elevated. You should rest. Perhaps I can produce a remedy befitting in alleviating your headache.”

Touch spreads goose bumps beneath shirt sleeve. Forcing arms to cross over your chest you twist to face him directly an extra tiny thud winds up heart. A key cranks in melody of jewelry box, dancer spins a ballet recital; vintage little tokens, delicate but thunderous in sentimentality. Just a brief glance, pressure of long fingers and it’s the first time you realize how pretty they are.

Long, beautiful digits on large hands made not born. Yet he is still heavenly.

Sharply a breath slips. Words soothing, touch comforting all those things you crave. Yet this is part of protocols for him. That’s all.

Deeply you sigh. Feeling an unmistakable need burning lower pit of stomach detaches you. A shiver runs a gamut through body and spikes straight to the core of your existence. You squeeze legs tighter together cursing the fact your body decides to get horny over a headache solution.

Fuck that! It’s his voice. Husky velvet, raspy natural glory and you are so wet. It takes everything not to jump his bones right now. Or mechanical bones? Hmm. Close enough!

“I just need to get extra sleep, Connor.” Dismissing his ideas there are too many running through your mind. Staring down at his crotch again remembering what he said but no. Get it out right now. No matter how much you need to –

You need to go upstairs. Yes, that’ll work.

“Y/N, are you positive? Your levels are fluctuating severely in my scans.”

“Oh? Are they?” Can he also smell arousal? Please, please tell me he can’t.

Connor, however, is not as naive as you believe him to be. Built with specifics in domestic partnership it is easy for him to know when the human body is aroused. Due to your state of duress and current levels of stress he does not wish to explain. It may not be beneficial. It may hurt you.

The android turns eyes down slowly, battling with these thoughts. He is not meant to debate. He is meant to proceed with internal core analysis. Percentages drive him. Yet, he struggles. Is this an error?

“Connor?”

His head snaps up. Connor’s LED flashes in a crescendo to your soft expression. Hiding the obvious need you have. All humans must expel anxiety in some way. Perhaps he is aesthetically pleasing as you said but –

“I will return to my duties if that is sufficient.” He forces another one of his smiles.

Again the grimace is heartwarming. Albeit in need of practice but-but maybe you can teach him? If there is any good to come out of falling into the same realm as everybody else, then treating him fairly is a start. As if you would treat him bad. No. Why should it matter? Human, android or alien from outer space; you laugh now.

Stupid! So stupid but it’s calming down this literal burning.

Light, airy and symphonic this sound seeps into audio processors. A residual aura prickles sensors, blinding differently than unprecedented software errors. Are they malfunctions? Something soft, sweet cannot be. He has not experienced this before but his attention is solely on you. As brief as the laugh escapes, curling lips in a gentle rise at corners, Connor absorbs the natural human tinkle of chimes that expel so abundantly.

It is the first laugh, genuine laugh he has heard. And it is – beautiful.

The android is so distracted upon this new discovery he does not notice you slipping away. Androids do not possess a need for personal orbits. Their space is not granted freely as they are not free in will like humans. They are meant to serve. Obeying their masters is why they exist.

Yet, Connor can almost feel lack of metaphorical warmth. As you dissipate from his radius so does that laugh that digs into wires. Threading in circuits, causing another minor glitch of instability, forced away from vision in order to watch you; this is a tiny strain, a little piece implanting itself in him.

This is the piece that truly begins everything…

“Y/N,” he calls to interrupt your exit. Without prompt or instruction he once again acts beyond his programming.

Something new, urgent stops everything. You glance over shoulder. Steeling breath at his temple flashing you swear a blip of crimson glows in amber. Just a fraction of a second but you have no idea. Not yet, not then but you will.

“Yes, Connor?” Your breath is quiet, thoughtful meeting his uncertain gaze.

“I-” Connor stumbles. A perfect machine sputters. “Who was on the phone?”

Twisting your body the full way now, nails tap against wall for something to do. A way to hide that hollow pit forming again but no one can hide from analysis. Connor will already know. “That-that was my aunt. My aunt by marriage. She’s- Let’s say she isn’t a very nice person.”

Keeping rest of it bottled up is no solution but telling him will only upset you again. He doesn’t need to know. At least not yet but is this a conversation to share? With an android? Who else will listen? Who else even cares to ask?

Connor did. Is his social program that good?

Honestly, you think nothing of it. For a time it merely seems to be part of what he was built for.

Thinking back at times to this day, first meeting, you will find that so stupid. Naïve isn’t really part of you but he is more. Connor is so much more. It becomes apparent…

August 15th

Practically slamming front door shakes the entrance with your current state of anxieties. Stress cannot be worse. Spoke too soon during midday. Damn it.

Clearing throat, wiping tears off your face, your breath is staggered. Unable to calm down from such ‘good’ news following that sudden meeting with your boss and everything ripples. Stomach twists badly. Nervous energy or just another month of-

Pressing face into hands poorly stifles sobs. Getting half way through home you just stop. Everything halts as things just don’t want to change. Now this of all things from work it’s going to hurt you in the long run. Your boss did this on purpose. Cutting hours and piling extra to sift through on that fucking computer.

How many sales diagrams, how many logs must you make now? There’s a specific quota. Each person who works database needs to meet their allotment. He threw a ton at you. In order to give leeway to another girl who just started there. Yeah, another potential conquest for the old pervert you’re sure!

What do you get in return? Hours cut and less pay but more weight. A ton sits on your shoulders. Isn’t it enough he humiliated you? Purposely shout out and criticize while leaving his office and you held your head up. Only in the sanctuary of home does it finally snap this flood.

Dropping keys moving uneasily into living room, sinking heavily on couch, you just want to curl up. Maybe it will make things feel better?

Lazily you peer up at television screen. Realizing it is switched on produces a tiny smile. Did he-?

“Welcome home, Y/N.”

Your head lifts up further. Narrowing on Connor stepping into view, he straightens, cocking his head in that adorable way that keeps invading your sleep. Even awake it’s a problematic daydream. He is just on the mind too frequently.

“Connor,” a quiet breath escapes, stilted, weary.

The android reads stress automatically. Forcing tiny fissures in his emotionless facade, splintering through system, he moves swift. However he freezes. Unaware of this strange urgency pulling up tendrils of glittering circuitry, waves undulating beneath shell, eclipses protocols. He must serve. He must obey. Yet he feels something else overshadowing programming.

System stress battles this ever growing need to break. Crumbling at the seams the more he feels your presence. It is a permanent fixture. As he has become one in your space but Connor is only meant to serve. Why does he feel drawn beyond these stitches of code?

Androids do not question. They cannot experience existential crisis because there is nothing real. They are simple constructs. He – no, there is no personification heralded to androids. They are not alive. Therefore they are not allotted appropriate pronouns.

Connor has heard only one word countless times regarding his kind: It

“Y/N, you have been crying,” he observes through fluctuations.

Pushing them aside, attempting to stabilize, diagnose these errors, the android taps into social function. Sympathizing is not a genuine growth. It is merely part of his program. That is what Connor wishes to believe. He believes in nothing. Nonetheless it does not explain what is easy to machine. Calculations, data processing should offer quantifiable solutions. It is negative.

There is more emotion in his eyes than he knows. You see it. Honestly it surprises enough to cripple a proper response. Easily you brush it off any other time. This time there’s no hiding what he’s already seen. Can imagine what he sees through his eyes. How do androids really perceive the world? Quit thinking for once! All of it is illusion. Remember that.

Cyberlife’s one true goal makes millions, grows powerful in branding of highly sought after merchandise. Still it makes you sick but here you are. Do the same thing because you have Connor. No matter how different it is.

“I’m fine,” a lie tells a thousand truths.

Connor’s brows knit together, mouth twitching, flutter of LED amber. A sign of outward commiseration fights his shackles. He knows you are lying. Despite the fact he should listen and not broach the subject further, the android does not resist this new deviation.

“Why are you lying, Y/N?”

Your breath catches. Stuck in throat along with words it’s a surprise. Even more surprising is the glimmer of irritation on his face. The way his mouth goes lopsided like that is – cute. Wait a minute you’re supposed to be mad. You are! Mad at your goddamn boss for one!

“Lying?” you scoff back at him. “I’m not lying. I said I was fine. And I don’t appreciate you accusing me either, Connor!” Can androids even argue about things so mundane? Isn’t this what you wanted? A real conversation instead of a string of pleasantries, affirmations to duties he accomplishes.

“I am sorry but you are lying!”

Connor’s voice raises an octave higher than typical. Naturally husky, oh, how it deepens. Raw and very alive his tone completely solders you to the spot. Your eyes lift up to his face studying the gleam of his eyes. How strange that spark is. Almost a live wire crackles beneath the surface. A steamy cocoa bright before immediately dimming again; a breath sucks into your lungs cleansing the start of your body. Scarlet shimmers and that’s all the answer you crave.

He appears to swallow. Forcing his Adam’s apple to bob, which is a very realistic detail. Just as the rest of him is so real that sometimes you forget. Sometimes or all of the time, yes, most days his reality masks so well in the mind.

“I-I am…” Connor looks away. Unable to comprehend his reaction it is not part of his – “Forgive me.”

The way his voice lowers tugs at your heart. No. No, that’s not what should happen at all. You’ve seen enough of his kind out there. In the city of Detroit treated so fucked up. Most of them wouldn’t know what to do because they can’t. This is the first time he’s ever snapped from whatever social programming is built in him. He sounded too much like a person. A person with emotions reacting in a very obvious way and the idea Connor’s a person lingers.

You shift forward. Sucking in breath, following his gaze now landing on television, it’s the first time it hits. A ton of bricks, tumbling concrete could never do more damage. Everything about his apology stands still at the developing breaking news story.

ITM is broadcasting live somewhere. Is that outside an apartment rise?

Right now you ignore it. “Connor.”

The softness of your voice draws him back to you. Already he is far too used to it. Joining you upon couch, cocking head, his hand hovers atop yours. Fear of connecting with reality versus construction. He does not touch. He should not be pulled towards these fissures. Emotional surges strike ablaze as a fibrous match lighting his internal mechanisms. Wires push up, tendrils yanking one way towards control’s puppeteer. There it dangles him in strings made of electrical coil. Ensnaring his wrists, snaking around throat, digging thorny and jagged to his brain this is his prison.

Another piece cradles those signs of sensation, innervating beyond a great wall. A red wall gridlocks and crashes against him. It is a giant wave. Scarlet tides engulf and knock the android back where he belongs. Each time he wades closer to you the more it washes him out to that empty sea. He cannot stop. He still pushes. Something inside of him, he does not understand.

“You do not feel well, Y/N. I know this.” Apologizing again, he does not focus on his inner struggle. There should be nothing. He is supposed to be feeling nothing. Is he malfunctioning?

“It’s OK,” appeasing the strobe of scarlet cascading down his face worries. “Please don’t. I don’t want you to be stressed.”

“But I disobeyed. I lost control of…”

“That’s only human, Con.” Slipping on your tongue in an easy breath it’s the first time. Oh this will hardly be the last. Nothing will ever be last with him. If only fantasy can be reality most days. Maybe if you somehow knew here at this point in time. Everything happens for a reason.

He frowns. “I am not human.”

Sadly it’s true. Still you smile. Still you ease him because for once you realize. This isn’t supposed to be easy for him. He shouldn’t even react this way.

Both of you sit in silence. Deafening quiet just the two of you and how strange, wonderful this sensation crawls through the interstices of your being. Almost as if there is someone who cares. Does he? No. That can never mean he is not a needed presence. He is so much more. Soon you will know.

What you least expect is the pressure of his fingers sinking against your stomach. A jolt of electricity, naturally igniting a voltage inside of you and a soft sigh escapes the burden of a dry throat. Glancing down you realize – his hand is growing hotter.

“Connor, what are you-?”

“I detect an increase in prostaglandins.” His prognosis is casual, visibly reading as his LED flutters. “It will do well if you have a heat source to combat any discomfort or cramping.”

A shiver prickles down the curve of your spine. Simple touch or perhaps smooth husky words fill this awkward silence now with comfort. Sure it might be a technical way to point out this specific pain in the ass but it does take your mind off things. So easily you could remove his hand. A good idea to put up a barricade and distance yourself but you cannot do that.

Every thread of stress snaps. In one tiny moment anxieties melt off and ease into his aura. Androids are not supposed to have one. This conscious radiance but Connor’s orbit is safety, assurance. Even if he has no idea what sort of progress it means. A simple relationship of humane and machine, ownership and merchandise is how this world wishes. It is not your wish. There is more. Witnessing it now, gazing up at his face, concentrated crease of brow, optical unit bleeds a palette of amber and scarlet. Dusted in freckles his skin is a smooth canvas to admire. He is so real. Up this close it is so obvious even to your inferior eyesight. Compared to his advanced optical it is. His eyes are warm. Such life shines in them. Mocha sweet, soft and glitters in his careful evaluation. Technical and part of programming but still it sends you somewhere else.

“If confirmed this would be the first case of an android taking human lives.”

Your attention shifts. Drawn to the ITMtv news broadcast it was nearly forgotten. You sit up, unconsciously curling fingers around Connor’s wrist.

The action snaps his gaze down. Momentarily he freezes, stationary, until the soft gasp spills from your lips. Connor tilts his head. In line with television screen narrowing sharply on events unfolding leaves him struggling with process of information. An android is taking human lives? How is this possible? They are programmed to obey not to cause harm.

We are not alive. We are meant to serve not kill!

Connor tugs his hand back. Distancing himself, staring at news broadcast unsettles down to his core processors. A domestic model has taken a child hostage. An inferior model? No, he-he is the same. Upgrades, prototypes mean nothing. They are all part of a linear code. What they are made to be is what they must be. There is no deviation!

Artificial saliva swallows hard, bobbing in his throat. An increase of stress twists him to those original thoughts. Inconclusive on why he is feeling. The events live on air aren’t helping this strain.

“Connor. Connor, what’s wrong?!”

Your hand clutches at his shoulder. Unbeknownst to the android his face twitches with each strobe of optical unit. The shift between colors quickens. His eyes land on you. Concern for him is a shimmer of hope. A hope doesn’t exist for androids.

“I am performing a self diagnostic,” he lies.

Pulling away from him when he jolts up from couch deepens this sickness further. Everything flips in the stomach. Just hearing what they’re reporting. An android murdered a human. He has a little girl. What are they going to do? Is this really happening though? There have been rumors. For several months there’s been talk of androids running away. Going off and doing God knows what but that’s people who hate them. They’re the ones who talk about how evil they are. They shouldn’t exist. Made in our image and unnatural monsters; the erratic behavior in Connor abates this thinking.

There is no time to debate. You already know the opinion that matters. It’s your own.

“You’re lying,” echoing it back stops him. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on?”

“There is nothing.” Connor insists. Remaining turned puts his back to you. The android tries to fight his conflicts. All of it is bubbling, boiling upon his plastic surface. Itching, tingles beneath synthetic skin. You are part of it somehow. He knows. That is why he is malfunctioning.

Nothing? No. There is something! Proving it, grabbing at his arm, twists him to face you. There is no powerful in your pull. He whirls at the action out of choice.

A staggering breath barely reaches past your lips. Large hands engulf wrists, pulling your hands up. Entrapped in Connor’s grasp, fingers long and pliant in their fuse to yours swallowing up in such a strong, yet gentle touch. He doesn’t hurt you. That’s not at all what he took hold to do. Still the continuing broadcast emanates a horrifying soundtrack. Androids killing but he-he’s not like other androids. He wouldn’t do anything he should not do. Part of you wants to believe that.

How he looks now is the only answer to an impossible question. He is agitated, nervous? Not horrifying as people say they are. He looks lost. Lost and searching inwardly. This is the first time he ever appeared that way.

“Connor, please. Don’t shut me out. Just because of what I am.”

“You are my owner,” he lowers his voice. “I am a machine made to obey. I am not your equal, Y/N.” Studying traces of worry in your face opens a hole in his chest. Circuitry, mechanical proponents powering his structure bleed in this instability.

He knows. In the crinkle between your eyebrows, droop of the corners of your soft mouth he sees. For him, a thing without purpose, genuine distress shines in the warmth of your eyes. Human, innocent compared to those he has witnessed abuse in the street. You will never deserve harm.

“I’m not an owner. I-I’m…” What are you? A friend? A lover? None of those things! You bought him. What he says is the horrible truth. “It’s OK to be you. I don’t care. If you have a problem it’s not like that thing on the news. I know it triggered something. But that’s not…”

“I am not triggered by anything, Y/N.” Connor releases you slowly. Allowing wrists to drop from his fingers the loss of warmth registers profoundly. He did not realize he could feel so authentically. There is something wholly beautiful about how your skin blends with his. It fascinates him. You are beginning to fascinate him.

Connor breaks away. Narrowing heatedly upon news, he can only watch one of his own threaten to murder a human child. The android can only stand by as it unfolds. Unable to snap, break through and understand. What made him attack? What turned him on his owners?

He can’t calculate a reasonable response. Neither can he fall into these errors, system malfunctions whispered of since he arrived to your home. This thing they call deviancy.

November 1st

Several months follow the first introduction; follow that news broadcast that begins a shift in the city. Still it seems longer. An infinite amount of space separates since then and now. Only in a comforting presence that you know is still simply part of his programming. Of course that’s all it is, he made it clear during the hostage event televised for all of Detroit to witness. Did it ever stop the truth in you? No because it would all be lies if you never admitted how…attached you’ve grown to him.

Attachment to an android probably isn’t the smartest thing. How can you see him as just an android anymore? He’s more. There is so much more. Even his small barely there smiles, a hint of stiffness apparent in the corners of his mouth, make your heart flutter. Just a tiny drop of emotion dips in an endless sea of code.

No. You can’t think of it because the second you fall into this fairy tale something regretful will take place. It will swamp around heart, holding upon his smooth cool fingers.

Cradling in his synthetic grasp without him understanding that slowly, profusely, so internally chaotic inside your soul, have already began this descent. However there is more to being in a daze. You certainly haven’t taken him up on his special upgrade programming to be the perfect domestic partner.

Imagine others forced into things they can’t control? It sickens you at times. Reading about android sex clubs, knowing explicitly they have no option to refuse. That’s not to say you haven’t stared the tugging threads of temptation in its face. Imagining what Connor looks like underneath his uniform, pristine white, shades of blue stitch, android glitters in luminescent fabric; his deliciously toned forearms visible donning a short sleeved variant get your mind racing.

Large hands, long fingers, veins, muscles eye catching in their realism all built into his synthetic design. It doesn’t even cross your mind anymore. That his layer of beauty is artificial because what you’d give to trace fingertips against his lovely epidermis.

Kissing him all over, following the obvious toned planes of the android’s chest. Feeling him against your fragile human exterior; to say you haven’t fantasized, haven’t fought with internal desire is bigger than an understated battle.

Just look no further than that incident first day he was here. Getting off on his voice, comfort spilling in a song; you hate the fact it happened. Only reveals how desperate you were in that time for any ounce of solace.

He offered then as it is part of what is meant to be. But you can never hurt him. As much as others will say you are delusional for believing he has feelings. Emotions are part of human existence, after all, not part of creations built for sole purposes of serving.

Current state of the city might have something to do with it but today is like any other. At least it begins as such. Even in the now listing along day by day thankful for once in your life for a father who never lived up to his title. Until he dies of course then all is forgiven.

Small miracles don’t exist in the grand scheme of life. Sometimes wishing they did amplifies doubts.

“Connor.”

Whispering in a lazy flip amid covers, groggy and unaware of his name sighing affectionately bundles you from penetrating sunlight. Blankets do little to hide from the morning. Squinting half lidded towards those streaks of light creating illuminated patterns. Spreading across snowy carpet and reaching up to edge of floral stitch coverlet draped mattress, you toss an arm over to cover eyes. Squeezing them beneath wakes you up better. This time it’s obvious.

Sitting up quickly and digging fingers into blankets sheds confusion. The state between unconscious dreaming to conscious awareness is a complete mess. Did you just have a dream about him again? Rubbing hands against your face doesn’t wipe tiredness away. It neither helps get your mind straight.

A complete mess in the mornings is a daily routine. All of your life what else is new?

Absorbing sunshine might be good for the pores. He will tell you that soaking in morning sunlight is a healthy way to get vitamin D. In his perfectly technical but also impeccably cute tone; you smile fixating on his changing mannerisms.

Does he know how human he’s been acting with those facial expressions, eyes lighting up in rich cocoa?

Could be imagination running wild trying to make something out of what can’t be possible. Nice to daydream a little even if representing unnecessary emotions piling up inside. Staring across bedroom lit with natural rays seeping through blinds leaves a warmer atmosphere.

You enjoy it for a distraction. Quiet can be poetically sound as pressing face into pillow and letting loose a scream. Frustration doesn’t surround the home. It surrounds your job.

God another shift to cover and this time you’re damn sure this co-worker is pulling it out of –

“Good morning, Y/N.”

A gasp slips in a slither upon breath, pressing tongue against the back of teeth enamel in a stare down with your open door. He enters so stealthily sometimes you forget.

“Connor,” greeting him wearily, yawning and stretching arms, your neck is stiff.

Rubbing at the back of it doesn’t distract you too much. What is he-? Oh. Explains the hot smell of food but this is a little unexpected. You never tell him to bring breakfast anywhere.

The android places an oak tray atop your lap. His eyes trail over exposed skin from a top haphazardly thrown over your body last night. After all of this time sharing space with you he has noted a penchant for wearing oversize shirts, pajamas to bed. There is still a glimpse of lace peeking out as the fabric slouches down.

“Are you hungry? I hope you are.”

He hopes? You smile, especially seeing him returning it. A slight indentation, just the tiniest of dimples in that sculpted face. Still not completely natural but enough to make caterpillars transform to butterflies in your stomach. Much improvement you think!

“Of course I am but…” You jab a nail atop wood beside plate for emphasis. “Is there something I should know, Connor? You’re awful sneaky today. More so than usual.”

^Software Instability

Connor breathes in a fresh batch of warnings. Unnecessarily inhaling expands chest and it is the natural scent of you. Olfactory filters clog, storing away to memory each thread of you. He tilts his head softly, dip of hair flopping across his forehead.

“It is the anniversary of your purchase of me,” he answers quietly. “I thought you would enjoy having breakfast in bed.”

Everything flutters. You swallow. The careful attention he put into this is outstanding. Not because he whipped up food or was told. He did this by himself. He-he chose to surprise you?

A smile graces lips before biting the bottom one a little bit. This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you. And the last couple of months Connor’s really been broadening his horizons. He is so much different. Well, he’s the same with the whole analytics but – this android is less stiff. Softer but he always was a soft boy in your eyes.

“Oh, Connor,” a sweet breath skims along his name. Sadly you recall what you think of this. Most romantic, nicest thing and it’s breakfast in bed. Generic to others maybe but it’s the thought. He thought of you even if it might just be social parameters.

You pick up a folded napkin and curl fingers into it. Shit.

“Y/N.” Connor reaches down.

Using the tip of his finger swipes a droplet corner of eye. Those eyes always look at him as if he is more. How strange to admit he feels different meeting your sparkle; Connor sits. Without a word, his hand wraps around yours nestling beside tray.

His fingers squeeze as his system flutters, overheats in the most pleasant of ways. A way he believes he is beginning to crave.

Androids do not crave. They do not want. They do not need. Yet every little brush of your warm skin to his synthetic fills crackles against his blocks.

Your breath is easy feeling him. Little gestures here and there grow exponentially. Sometimes you wonder if he’s happy doing this. Then androids aren’t supposed to be happy, sad or anything. That’s what they continue to say.

Reports on androids going “rogue” or deviant makes you question things. It’s not new. You always have a habit of questioning but this is different. Ever since that older model was broadcast live. The one with the little girl; you slip hand from Connor’s.

“It means everything,” you admit to him. “Having you here. But – do you want to be somewhere else?”

Connor’s temple floods in thought. Straining, pushing away rising stress it spikes marginally at the question. He does not understand. Do you believe he wants to be from you? The news of his people has not left his process. You allow him to watch news or whatever he likes as if he readily possesses preferences.

The android has found particular interests. He enjoys watching you read physical books. He has grown fond of touching them in his hands, analyzing an entire book in one second. However, he desires to hear your voice read aloud.

He witnesses protesters on local news. Those humans are cruel but you-you are the conceptual manifestation of an angel. Research and data compilation helps him understand better. Watching you is best to determine the differences, to realize not all humans are the same.

His creators, those who constructed him at Cyberlife may find him having his own ideals faulty. Malfunctioning, burdening in failure; is he obsolete? Does this software instability make him defective? As that android upon the high rise dangling over edge and threatening to maim a child? He will never harm you. It is not only against code, it is against what he feels.

Connor will keep you safe. It is not part of initial programming as he is not a military grade android but he cannot remove it from personal parameters. The more you smile, interact with him as if he is equal. He will never –

“I will never leave you, Y/N.” A determined oath he speaks without fear of showing what is happening inside him. “Not as those other androids. I promise.”

“Do you like dogs, Connor?”

Nudging at his arm playfully sends you to a nice state of mind. Nice change following all of the stress at work. Forever ongoing but at least it’s clear where your boss stands. He made the last few months a living hell. All because of some new intern the creep tried to get with.

Dropping you down in a demotion also meant less money in your paycheck. Guess it helps your father did leave you that nest egg. Something that helps as long as it can last but you like to think you’re good with finances.

Instead of worrying about it you indulge this moment. Out in chilly first November’s day, crisp but warming in how close. Fingers brush down against his hand.

Connor tilts his head from shop window. A pet shop he has already been past occasional running errands in town. He always finds himself stopping to look inside. “Dogs are known as man’s best friend. I suppose I understand why humans prefer them. They are loyal.”

“Well cats aren’t so bad. Easier to take care of.”

The android shifts away from window. Even as his eyes freeze upon a cage of canaries. Android birds are sold up front. Again the display of machines as goods to buy and sell charges his instabilities. “If you think so, Y/N.”

You smile, laughing a little at the lopsided mess his collar’s now in. It is windy today. Reaching up to smooth fingers against it, you can’t help admiring him in the long wool coat. Dark suits his chocolate eyes. Still you’d love to see him wear regular clothes. His uniform is under there. Even so he just wanted to come out in typical wardrobe. You insisted otherwise. Even if it hardly meant anything but it just feels right.

“Call it preference.” Prodding a finger against his chest, catching a flicker of his eyes momentarily, you look away. “Well, it depends on the person I mean. What kind of pet they’re willing to take care of. That sort of thing. Cats are independent little balls of fluff. Dogs need a proper place to run, be free and…”

“I like dogs.” Connor interrupts, cocking his head.

A smile tugs up your lips. This time making eye contact with him again, trying not to think of the intimacy his gesture this morning blossomed in heart. Such an innocent statement, however, shivers sentiment not cold.

“Did you just decide that after some careful review?” Teasing, fingers slide down his arm unconscious but natural. Seems as though the world is no longer the one you know. The one that wouldn’t like what they see. All you see is him. So what’s it matter?

“I am the most advanced of my make.” The android teases back. “It’s only natural for me to know everything.”

Oh, is it? Wow he’s being awfully smug right about now. “Really? Connor, I’m surprised at you. Are you trying to say you’re smarter than everybody?”

He shakes his head. “No. No, I only meant I-”

“Just teasing,” an equal rib escapes, chiding him incessantly. “I thought you’d recognize that – mister advancement.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. Almost falling into your smile but still he cannot properly elicit what he feels. Only ignores to remain what you need him to be. A machine designed to accomplish a task.

“Hey sweets!” Yelling across street, waving a sign, a grizzled construction worker spits in your direction. Interrupting the scene between an obvious human and plastic pet; he jeers loudly. Gaining attention from others they carry similar propaganda with them. A group of protesters form, stopping their trek.

Immediately you shift back from him. Realizing how close, affectionate you were being and – shit! Anti-android? Fuck that’s great.

Deciding to ignore it, not before scoffing in disgust! Never imagined running into these people because nothing ever transpired with Connor. Not a thing! Lately you have been forgetting. Maybe that’s the problem.

“Hey. I said hey!”

Huffing at the man you snap around to acknowledge his nastiness. So he crosses a busy street to come at you? Don’t they have anything better to do? As much as you’d like to ignore this jackass it’s best to tell him verbally to back off!

“Why’s your droid bundled up like that?” he jabs a finger threateningly. “Those things don’t feel anything.”

Thing? Oh, OK! Should’ve figured some old out of the loop jackass was one of these bastards. Didn’t even need a sign to show his ignorance!

“And how do you know?!” Snapping frustration, anger boiling, and your body grows hot in anger. “Why don’t you just mind your business? Come on, Connor.”

“Y/N.” The android snags onto your hand.

“What do we have here?” Another one of the anti-android group cuts in; her eyes slink up and down you before scoffing disgusted. “Are you out with your robo boy? What? Humans not up to your standards for fucking?”

Everything stops. Right then and there it is a swath of fire. Burning deep down to the core and nothing is preventing the eruption. Lava scalds insides, veins a blaze, eyes locking with hers, prying a hand away from Connor. You didn’t even realize he motioned. An attempt to remove you from their path but fleeing is not happening!

A matching scoff releases sharp. Your lip curls at her ignorance! Just as everybody who follows this line of thinking. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Care to repeat that? After all, I don’t understand bitch speak.”

“Smart ass huh?” The woman shoves at you. “Typical android fuuu… Hey!” She stumbles away from you wide eyed.

Connor is already shielding, arm pushing you back behind him. Sidling into the path of protesters they have conglomerated this side of street. His eyes narrow. Brow creases harsh his expression unreadable yet his indicator reveal his heated struggle of raw emotions.

“Did you see that?!” She shouts purposely. Getting as much attention as possible it doesn’t stop there. “It came at me!”

Your glare dissolves, latching onto his arm. “Connor, please. Don’t.” Already realizing what could happen it’s a desperate attempt to continue walking. If anything is true something like this will only get him hurt. People will say that’s impossible they don’t feel anything but to hell with them! “Let’s go.”

Pulling him towards street halts the moment you are seized from behind. One of the men in the group drags you back, yanking rough.

“Get the hell off me!”

“Your fucking android came at her!” Throwing you aside, he rears up over to block you getting up so easy. “We’ll teach your fucking plastic pet!”

A painful huff, hard drop accelerates Connor’s stress levels. Watching this human manhandle, hurt you twists at his synthetic heart. His face twitches. Thirium pump chugs erratically in a fuel of anger. An urge to break through and protect overwhelms, even as he is shoved back by the one who started this.

The middle age construction worker; he grabs onto the front of the android’s coat, rough, spitting directly up into the taller plastic fucker’s face.

“Fucking piece of plastic! Think you can take our fucking jobs. Walk around the street like you’re human. Worthless pieces of shit like you fuck up the whole works! Poison other humans against their own kind. Like your owner there. Make sure that bitch doesn’t get up!”

Connor’s eyes shift down at you, stopped once again after pushing up to your feet. The man twists at your arm and it is…too much!

“Connor!”

^72%

Level of Stress

>Do not defend

>Obey Code Programming

>Do n defend

>Do defend

>defend

A flood of scarlet eclipses protocols pushing him beyond programming locks. Even as they strain to tighten shackles on system, preventing a clear break, the android still moves in defense.

Connor’s arm thrusts upwards, locking fingers onto wrist of the protesting assailant. Stilling the human’s movement, he squeezes, and wrenches the man’s limb sideways. The fierce strength exuding from the AX800 ripples in flashing indicator going wild in a strobe of multiple hues.

He feels a strange pull tugging insides. Again pulling at his wiring allows an over stimulation of emotional surge to spread in him. There is only one blaring sign to follow:

>Protect Y/N

“Get the fuck off me!” Changing his tune quickly, trying to get the plastic off him, he tries to wrench out of the painful grab. “You crazy android! This thing’s going nuts!”

“Connor!” Pushing through several onlookers now who had to stick their nose into this, you find your way past the rest of these android protestors. Shoving directly through, wiggling your way out of that asshole’s grip, your steps are quick. Knocking that bitch that started this out of the way you manage to grab up onto Connor’s shoulder.

Breathing is fast, side hurting from where it struck asphalt. It’ll be sore tomorrow but only he matters. “Connor, let him go. It’s over. They won’t do a thing!”

Screaming at them to get your point across, hoping someone just-just anyone puts a stop to this. What good are the police around here? They don’t care. Of course not they’ll just let a group like these hateful fuckers brutalize someone like Connor. Someone that’s right. Fuck what they say!

The second he releases that man you hook an arm through his. Directing him away, glaring back as commotion does alert a wandering policeman, you pick up your pace. No longer needing anybody else’s help because Connor… He did something unexpected. Just as those other androids. Deviants. That’s not him. He’s not deviant. If he was –

Catching breath across the street you uncurl fingers from the front of his coat. Chilly air creates a frigid burn against stinging eyes. It takes every ounce of courage to prevent it spilling. Nothing stops knowing what people are really like.

His eyelids blink rapidly. Not even looking at you but his LED scares you to death. Stress levels are a thing. You know that.

“Connor, please.” Reaching up to cup his face forces his eyes down onto yours. Tears brim in a crystal sparkle. Threatening to slide down but you suck everything up. Just as you’ve always done in life but this time –

“It’s OK,” soothing hasty, breathless instills a deep ache. This is the first time he’s lost control. Then it’s not his fault. Those fucking protestors! They were minding their own business. Until they decide to gang up on you. This is your fault. If you weren’t so obvious, being so close to Connor out in public, none of this would have happened.

“Y/N, I –” Connor’s voice stutters. Strangely he cannot form a proper response. He feels as if his system is overheating. He feels. A tiny prickle underneath synthetic epidermis crawls, stress rises; Connor clutches to you, fingers digging into hips. He leans into this affection.

Why do you offer him this? When he is not alive, he is not real. He could be your partner. It is part of his design. You did not want him that way. He recalls your words about not forcing him against his will.

There is no will. When he is a machine!

The android gazes longingly through leaking eyes. Glistening brown becomes another change in what he is supposed to be. Tears have broken in a trail down his cheeks. Androids are not meant to cry. He thought as much.

Tears threaten you too. Looking up into his face so conflicted, hurt because he’s not what they say. He’s alive. Of course he is. Only your sweet Connor would be.

“Connor, please don’t.” Begging him again this time holds your heart on a jagged precipice. One wrong move and it will crash. “Your stress levels. Please, don’t…”

He leans his head down. Close, pressing forehead to yours, his eyelids flutter closed. “I am sorry,” Connor whispers, orbiting the warmth that pours from your body. This warmth he does not deserve.

His voice is husky heaven. Golden gates open with each syllable and you crave to hear your name. Again and again you crave his closeness. “Never apologize for what others do. They don’t know. None of them know what I know. You are more than them. You’re my Connor. With a heart of gold.”

“Androids do not have hearts as you do, Y/N.”

You smile sadly. “I know,” a whisper but next a beautiful revelation. “But this.” Fingers slide up against his chest. “It might not be the same but it thrums in a lovely song.”

^Software Instability

Steam rises in a soothing aroma from the mug cradled between your hands. A fresh brew of cocoa relieves mental ache. Physical? Everything is sore, tender where you fell. Changing clothes after getting back home alleviated discomfort.

Soaking in a bath for an hour did loosen some tension. Rest of it just fails miserably. As much as you fail in public for all to see what you feel.

Still you blame yourself. Getting close to him acting as if you were out for an anniversary? How stupid can this be?

Of course he brought you that surprise breakfast. He told you why. Does that mean it was a real anniversary? What can be real about buying someone? Nothing is. It just reminds you about every sad truth. Those protesters made it clear.

Pursing lips to smoothly blow away steam, frothy top rich as you sip in a seat on couch. Toasty liquid fills insides with a burning comfort. This is the only solitude needed. Enough time to think it still edges nerves.

Waiting for a word with Connor, he hasn’t been acknowledging much. Since what happened and who can blame him?

Part of you is still frightened. For him you just cannot help feeling afraid. What if he leaves the house for an errand and-and he’s jumped? What if he’s attacked?

There is no guessing. Possibilities are high. They will happen. They are happening. Each day it grows worse ever since that android who murdered that man. Pretending not to see makes you complicit. You don’t want to pretend. You will face reality no matter how dangerous it is becoming in Detroit.

“Y/N.”

Your head lifts. Peering over towards his husky drawl of your name straightens your perch. Leaning over deposits mug on coffee table and you wait. He appears as conflicted as before.

Please, let him be OK. Just don’t let this ruin what you have found.

All you care about is him. Yes, it’s true now. All these months and there are nothing greater than personal truths.

Connor hesitates. Ruminating over his actions offers him zero outcomes explaining his loss of control. There is only one solution. He is malfunctioning.

Something in his handsome face twists your stomach. It stabs deeper closer he gets. Joining you now is all the fear wound up in you showing its colors. They are similar to his LED. A constant swirl is unable to land on one draw.

“I will understand if you would like to send me back for reset.”

Reset? That word just guts you. Reset. No!

“Connor,” a sob almost overtakes your response. The very idea of him taken somewhere and operated on ripples overtakes in a squirmy skin crawl. It’s barbaric. Resetting an android’s memories is horrifying. You hear about it all the time. They are completely wiped of their –

The android’s lips part, cocking his head while listening to shaky breath falling in sad soliloquy. He does not understand. No, he-he does.

“Y/N, I… Please,” he urges comfort stretching fingers out to soft skin. They do not touch. Simply artificial hovers above humanity but something tugs center of his chest. Something deep and satisfying as his synthetic heart thrums quicker in tempo.

Connor pushes through this grid without fully snapping chains. Already he feels a flow spreading through system. Each day he looks upon your face happier since he came. As you told him once that it makes you feel better, safer to have someone. He is not someone. He is an android.

How can you possess such feelings? How-how can he gaze over such softness, such beauty without wishing to remain?

The thought of being taken - scares him.

His LED flickers, red once more but not in anger. Fear is strange. Partially for his being but the possibilities of never seeing you again are tearing his programming shackles apart.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Reassuring him now is better than showing anymore of what has been lying inside. “No one will take you from me, Connor.”

Silence is best.

Sitting among a safe haven, your home offers that place now not just for you but him. Here no one can hurt this. No one can treat him inferior. Never will you treat him any different. You know it’s a fool’s game. Especially in this modern world of technology strives, transitions and creates intelligent life in humanity’s image. He is more than a sculpture, perfected work made for duties.

Today, Connor acted as any man would for the person they…. No. It can never be that. Neither does it stop how you felt. How he could tamper with his program just to be there for you.

None of this should have happened. You repeat it over and over again in your mind. None of this because of a fantasy; your eyes fall to his hand. Fingers touch yours now. It is soft, gentle and only a moment.

Connor pulls away too soon. Just a minute he allows himself to fall. Your reaction to his suggestion, no solution, cripples his code blocks. Almost he shattered them. They are close to crumbling. He must fight this deviancy. Only to stay with you because the android already knows what will happen to him. It’s happening to all of his people. Those who are succumbing to errors are hunted. They are murdered.

No they are destroyed, deactivated. His kind is not alive.

If that is true... Why does he feel threads of humanity? Why does he feel alive with you?

Meeting his gaze deepens this sensation of fear. Today, waking up to a sunny morning seems so far away. It was just earlier. Horrible things happen and change perspectives. Tiny moments of peace and that’s what he brought. Into your life following circumstances you never expected to gain something worthwhile. He won’t even believe that. He thinks he should be reset. That will never happen.

“Connor, I want you to know something. And I want you to believe me. Not think of who you are.”

“I am – no one, Y/N.” The android dismisses for your sake. If he becomes deviant they will take him from you.

All you do is shake your head, cupping his face. In your hands he softens. Those sharp edges, cheekbones thumbs now caress. Soft skin in a freckle stardust that makes hearts flutter. Better than butterfly wings, better than anything you can use to describe how it unmakes your soul.

“It would break my heart,” a shaky whisper strangles. “If you are reset.”

An instant flood of scarlet reflects his inner feelings. You see it. He never has to admit. But he does feel. That’s what makes this harder. Knowing how afraid he must be not to show it. There has to be something happening inside of him. There are too many examples now.

“Con, I want you to…”

Dropping hands from his face makes it easy to turn in direction of doorbell. Who is that? Slowly you rise to feet, sliding fingers down atop his shoulder. “I’ll get it.” Striding away out of room quickly prevents him ignoring your request. Another sign but that’s for another day. As if it will be any easier.

Unlocking the door leads to a horrible drop in your stomach. Eyes connect with the woman standing there now, out of the blue, someone least expected and at the worst time imaginable.

“Hello, Y/N,” the older, staunch woman smiles, already assessing you like a microscopic Petri dish sample. “It’s been quite a long time hasn’t it?”

A long time is putting it mildly. Last time was on the phone and her trying to sink her claws into your father’s nest egg. The one he left you.

The conversation left on a sour note. There is nothing sourer than a rotten apple and your aunt is the literal evil queen hoarding an entire bundle.

Tag List: @tropfenlady @your-taxidermy @catastrophes-light @rk900sexual @tommy-10-k @dreamyby @randomfandomgirl1996 @etherealcel @justashamwithwastedpotiental // tagging a few extra who I know would want a heads up <3

#dbh connor x reader #connor x reader #dbh connor rk800 x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh anniversary #dbh rk800 x reader #connor rk800 x reader #dbh #dbh au #detroit become human #dbh mini series #dbh au: wake up #wake up: part 1 #i am not proud of this #at all tbh #at least its finally here #apologies in advance

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