#Getting program required for the course should not be this impossibly complicated | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fictionalplagueproductions · 5 years ago

Text

If The World Was Ending

Part 2 - It Didn’t Scare Me

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Story Summary: Gavin is on the hunt for his missing android when the U.S. Government announces the end of the world. The end of his world. A world without his precious Nines.

Chapter Summary: Connor has managed to escape the clutches of android genocide, but Gavin isn't sure if the same can be said for Nines.

Pairing: Reed900 (Gavin Reed x RK900)

Rating: Explicit

Notes:

Based on the song “If the World Was Ending” by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels.

Short Three-Part Story (so I can channel this desire to make Reed900 come alive)

The progress of Gavin’s relationship with Nines was practically nonexistent. Between a man who refused to admit to his faults and an android built without social protocols, it was near impossible to get anything to happen. Not to mention, android prejudice was becoming a real threat for androids and their sympathizers.

Jim Crow laws had nothing on the division that androids were undergoing now, being collected and forced into the entire state of Michigan, that is. The government called it a “remedial period” in order to adjust to android integration and develop the proper rights specific to robotic sentients. Humans were allowed to stay if they elected to; some left, most begrudgingly stayed due to the inconvenience of moving.

There had been a few brave souls to come out about their relationships with the opposing species during this time. Gavin and Nines weren’t one of them. Rather, Gavin had not been. Although fresh into deviation, Nines was willfully blind to the hatred that people inflicted upon androids (despite the illegality of it). He had been prepared to tell the entire precinct the day they first kissed but didn’t per Gavin’s request.

He wasn’t ready.

Setting aside political excuses, Gavin was his own relationship inhibitor. Commencing these romantic interests with Nines was refuting the false exterior he had displayed for so long. Coming out to the world would create problems he was dead set on carrying with him to the grave. He had upkept a heterosexual reputation for so long, he wasn’t sure how to be anything else around his family and coworkers without embarrassing himself by mocking silly stereotypes. It didn’t help that Gavin was notorious for being against androids – what insults would he be subject to if they all knew?

As anyone might guess, there was hardly a “honeymoon phase” for the private couple. What they considered “dates” would have been any ordinary lunch break or sleepover for the typical person. It’s not that they didn’t enjoy the time they spent together, but it was always anti-climactic and never much contributed to the progression of their relationship.

For several months, doubt stacked against them.

It became second nature to squabble with one another when they crossed paths merely to maintain utmost confidentiality. They had both agreed the effectiveness of this plan; it was the safest preventative measure to anyone discovering the truth. And besides, the feelings of hate for each other would always subside by the end of the day. As soon as the pair stepped into Gavin’s rust-bucket-on-wheels, Nines’ attitude melted like nothing offensive had transpired from his mouth in the last twelve hours.

Gavin could forget for a while. Especially when Nines stared at him in that special way… that pleading, merciful stare which signified he was about to kiss him. Yes, he could forget entirely.

Until one day he couldn’t: a day in which he had found himself lying on Hank Anderson’s living room sofa.

“You don’t have to sit all the way over there, you know? They’ll be out of town for the entire weekend,” Nines had said. “I have their GPS locations, too, in case any plans have been changed.”

Gavin believed his android. That’s not why he distanced himself. “I know,” he mumbled, slaving his eyes to the television.

Nines was silent for several minutes. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” came his contingent response.

The heartbeat indicating Gavin’s pressing existence quickened under the flatline of words. He was sure Nines could and had picked up on it. “Do what?” he snapped back, though his misleading disruptive tone did not match the building fear within him.

“I don’t want to keep pretending.” The android pierced him with a sharp glare. “I don’t like hating you. I was programmed to be emotionless in spite of personifying assimilations. Do you know how difficult it is to override such programs and to express emotions anyway? To feel emotions? Wasting my energy on an action that I have no desire to perform is exhaustive and it confuses my ability to love you.”

Gavin sputtered, “Did you just say ‘lo-’.”

“Please Gavin,” interrupted Nines. He was undeniably aggravated. “It’s put distance between us. I know I have little knowledge and experiences with ‘dating’, but I know that it’s typical to have a common goal of becoming familiar with a chosen partner and sharing such feelings with one another. As far as we’re concerned, we’ve hardly done anything of the sort. I mean, look at you, you’re sitting all the way over there…” Despite the stolidity in his demeanors, his voice cracked for the very first time Gavin had ever witnessed. “…and I want you over here.”

Gavin was no sympathy-cryer, but it was becoming apparent how little credit he gave Nines. He swallowed the building tears down to speak. “I…uh…I didn’t know you were feeling all of this.”

Nines scowled. “I may not be well-versed in the ways of acting the part of ‘boyfriend’, but I thought it was an obvious concept that lovers should want to enjoy their time with each other. I had hoped that this weekend we might have the opportunity to overcome some barriers, that you might be able to tell me you’re ready. I….I… never thought I would be the one stupidly pining over an emotional skin-sack to make some sort of romantic gesture.” He was raising his voice now. “I felt closer to you when you actually hated me before any of this.”

Gavin sunk into the cushions, absorbing the uncertainty his android was exuding all of a sudden. How had he not realized? Nines had always appeared so self-assured about everything. How was he supposed to have realized? His voice relinquished an untrying defeat, “I-I’m sorry. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I’ve always been so terrible…”

“At relationships or in general?” asked Nines, though his facial expression did not indicate a cynical undertone.

“Both,” he heaved. “Nines?”

“Hm?”

Gavin shifted uncomfortably under the burden of his thoughts. “Do you…ahem…uh, love me?”

“Of course, I do.” The android rolled his eyes as if the answer was an obvious one. “What’s this all been about if not for love?”

A growing pause erupted between them, then was broken by the anguished man. “H-How long?”

Nines, all of a sudden, seemed to comprehend the weight of his words and moved his lips apprehensively before speaking their contents. “Some time ago, I suppose. It wasn’t a concept I understood well until Connor pressed me to study and indulge in human culture. For a long time, until then, you were just Detective Reed. And then…”

He slowed to a stop, now staring through Gavin as if recalling the memory. His menacing ring spun red and Gavin half-expected for the android to blow a gasket at the bunched skin forming along his forehead. “…You told me to ‘go fuck myself’ for the one-hundred-and-twentieth time after I had informed you that patching my wounds with bandages and alcohol was futile. Your profane terms, I then realized, came from an endearing place… I found myself considering your actions, thereafter, studying you more than I typically would another human. It eventually led to my affections for you. Why do you ask?”

Gavin, himself, remembered that alarming day like it had happened just yesterday. It was the day he, too, realized he had grown to not regret the android’s presence. “The bullet didn’t hit a biocomponent, Detective Reed,” Nines had groaned. In that moment, the simulated pain erupting from his partner’s movements embodied that of a true human. It was more than convincing, so much so that Gavin was still very much convinced to this day that he was, in fact, human.

“That-That is a big word, Nines. It’s…not just ‘like’. It’s a complicated word.” He couldn’t bring himself to say it again. It was a word that burned his tongue every time it bugged up his throat; a humiliating form of gutting your innards and displaying them to the world.

His android considered this for a moment. “Love is described in several different ways, existing dependently on the perception of a person and what they value in another. I value your stubborn loyalty, Gavin, and the way you stupidly care for my wellbeing.” Another pause. “Do you love me, Gavin?”

That damned word roared through Gavin’s head, stirring in disbelief that someone had the ability to say it so confidently; and to have someone so perfect say it to him… Could he say it back? Could he even push the syllable through his lips? As bitter as it tasted, his response was not a matter of knowing the answer, but rather recognizing the consequences that accompanied his candor.

Could he say it?

“Yeah,” he exhaled, then corrected with a stronger “yes.” An immediate blush flushed from his ears to his toes. What an idiot, he had thought to himself immediately. Somehow, the admittance attracted more humility.

Nines smiled but made haste in his following words: “I’ve been an obedient android for most of my short life,” he spoke rigidly. “Now, I have to demand of you that things change if our relationship is to advance into more intimate parameters. You may have some time to figure out how you desire to go about it, but I require it to be within the next thirty days.” Regardless of his human’s wandering eyes, Nines coerced them to land safely on his own. “I love you, Gavin,” he said firmly, lulling into a softer tone. “I love you and I want more than this silly scheme you’re trying to conduct.”

“It’s not that eas-” Gavin tried, quickly cut off by his partner.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear a single word you say when you’re sitting all the way over there!”

The android smirked, knowing his partner was fully aware of his keen hearing abilities. Bullheadedly, Gavin remained glued to his spot. “Okay,” hummed Nines, shifting onto all fours and crawling overtop of his human’s sprawled body. He slipped a palm underneath the awaiting man’s chin and flickered a glance to his lips. “You know I always get my way, why do you beset me to this tactic every time?”

Gavin turned away, forcing himself not to fall for the android’s seductive touch.

“That’s never worked either.” Nines fixed the man’s gaze back onto him with a gentle press against his cheek. “Gavin? I’m not asking. I may be android, but my deviancy is as untame as your own human chaos. And you’re not alone. I will help you through this.”

Gavin bit at his lip, still attempting to avoid eye contact but ultimately unable to resist the reflective pools pouring infirmity into him. “All right,” he breathed. “I-I’ll do it.”

It was the right answer. Nines had never been the greatest at reading into signs, but he was sure now – without the aid of dubious internet forums – that he should kiss this man that he loved. And he reminded this man that he loved him as he planted his lips gently onto his taut skin. Afterwards, Nines leaned back, gazing at his boyfriend expectantly. “I love you, too,” said he finally, cracking a genuine smile for possibly the first time in days.

Clearly satisfied, Nines hooked around Gavin’s jawline and dove down to meet him hungrily, asking now for a more invigorating stimulation. He shivered when fingers snaked through his synthetic locks, returning the intimate gesture.

Making out was about as far as they had ever gone. Keeping things a secret on top of their natural boundaries made for uneventful cock-blocks. But after everything that had ensued, Gavin was ready to take it to the next level.

Everyone would know about them by the end of the week, anyway; he would tell them all. Nines, the “socially inept” android wanted to be his boyfriend publicly. How could Gavin say no to such requests when his partner had already overcome a great feat himself? It was his turn, now.

Shit, Nines loved him.

From below, he slipped a clutching hand beneath the android’s indigo turtleneck and sunk fingernails into plastic skin that felt so real. Nines copied the action from on top of him. They were mostly motionless save for their conjoined mouths, and the lack of bodily movement didn’t concern Gavin at first. But when his android let a grunt slip, there was no restraining the leg that mounted over Nines’ ass and the upward thrust that grew Gavin to the vastness of his length. He wasn’t sure if Nines knew how to properly reciprocate, though Gavin was more than happy to continue to oblige in the repetitive movements.

The body became stiff above him and it fell in response. Not quite what he was expecting.

Nines then dropped into dead weight altogether, halting Gavin’s accelerating speed. “I don’t know what you want.”

“What do you mean?” asked Gavin. He thought it had been more than obvious what he was trying to segue into. After the bathroom incident, Gavin had ignorantly assumed all androids were capable of “doing it”. Had he been wrong? “Can you not-?”

“I can perform sexual actions, if that’s what you mean. It’s just, I’m not yet equipped.”

“Oh.” His wonder did not end there, curious as to how the part would attach and what was in place of the regular male form. Gavin imagined a bare Ken Doll, nakedly plastic in all its glory, sporting a mere bulge with no real appendage to put on display. The fickle state his android appeared to be in, however, told him tonight wasn’t the night to pry about such curiosities. “That’s okay, I was feeling tired anyways. Let’s just finish this movie.”

The android hesitated before sliding off of him and positioning himself along the edge of the couch, allowing himself to be encompassed by Gavin’s smaller yet protective frame. Although Gavin had hoped for more after exchanging such heavy vows, having his boyfriend back in his arms was satisfying enough. He fastened himself tightly around Nines like he would dissipate into thin air and rested a chin neatly over his blue LED.

Moments passed, then it flickered red. “Gavin? I’m still aroused, you know? After all, endorphins – human and android – aren’t produced in the genitalia.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“I’m saying,” continued Nines with a growing devious grin, “that just because one of us doesn’t have the part, doesn’t mean we can’t still have a pleasing night.” The android looked over his shoulder at his human, feeling a lump beginning to swell against his backside.

Gavin felt his breath go hot as Nines shifted to face him, his expression spoiled with desire.

They had sex for the very first time on Hank Anderson’s couch.

A week later, Gavin was regretting the memory. Not because it wasn’t a pleasant one – in fact, it was so pleasant that, despite the harrowing circumstances, a warmth built in his groin when Connor invited him to take a seat in the exact spot that Nines had been bent over for him. But the feeling did not last long, soon replaced by a pang of melancholy.

Where was Nines now and why wasn’t he with Connor?

“I thought you knew?” asked the RK800. “He was with you last night when they broke the news…” He sat across from Gavin on the love seat.

“W-What? No he wasn’t-.”

Connor dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Nines isn’t that sneaky. Even in my stasis, I could hear him fumbling with the doorknob. ‘Faster, stronger, and more resilient’, sure, but not a single drop of stealth thirium in him,” he snickered as a side-note. “He also hates lying, so he had a shaky alibi at best when I questioned his whereabouts. I was able to eventually put two-and-two together when your bickering increased excessively, assisted by no considerable motive.” Through a heavy frown, the older android managed to yank a line into the end where his lips met and grinned at the reddening man. “Did I crack the case, Detective?”

Gavin moaned, “I didn’t come here to play games. Look, even if all that were true – which I’m not saying it is – I just want to know where he is.” Desperation edged into his voice. “O-Or to know that he’s safe.”

“I wish I could say that he is. He…He left a few hours ago.”

“What?” Gavin nearly jumped out of his seat. “Where did he go? It’s not safe for him out there right now!”

“I know that. He chose to leave on his own accord. We share many qualities, but while hiding out here, he came to this strange conclusion that androids weren’t meant to coexist with humans. He thinks androids are the reason the country has become divided.” After every word that fell from Connor’s mouth, Gavin’s hope strained like a game of Jenga; a slow removal, piece-by-piece, that would inevitably lead to a thundering tumble. “He said it was for the best that everything was happening the way it was…”

“Spit it out already, Tin Can. Where’d he go?”

Connor choked on his final sentence, somehow appearing shocked by the words ghosting in his throat. “Nines turned himself into the nearest camp.”

In all his years of detective work, Gavin would never have suspected an android such as Nines to act as a martyr for his entire race. No, scratch that; this wasn’t a martyr. How could that be so if Nines was against his own kind?

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Gavin entered into a growl, targeting Connor now. The android seemed torn up about it as much as he was, but his was the only face he could put forth blame.

“I tried, Gavin, but you know Nines as well as I do, if not better. When his mind is made up…well, I guess you guys really made quite the match.”

“Yeah…” was all he could manage in response. Images of a Nines stripped of all of his human clothing and skin pulsed afront the detective’s own eyes. Fear rung his heart like a punching bag. It was enough to cause him to lose his breath, enticing a sharp black movement across his sights, and suddenly the world was but a dream.

He woke up to Connor placing ice cubes over his wrists and speaking to him softly. “Nines loved you, you know? It was obvious to both Hank and I. Hank wasn’t too thrilled about it…but Nines seemed much happier for a long time after we figured it out. And really… how can we be mad when you showed him what makes deviation so remarkable? What makes… being human so remarkable?”

Gavin shot up from the floor, pushing the android’s helping hands out of the way. “Iye needta go find ‘im.” The older RK did not follow him out the door – he couldn’t have stopped him, anyway.

Nines was out there somewhere.

He wasn’t dead yet.

Gavin could feel it.

Even when he traversed the local camps that had already been put up in the last ten hours without any sign of the broad android, Gavin pushed on.

He pushed on, assuring himself that Nines was still present in this world.

Nines was here.

He had to be.

He had to be, didn’t he? After all, androids were built to endure for much longer than the fragile human life. It was humans that grew determinately, breaking back down into simple compounds and returning to the earth after just a few decades. Nines was supposed to watch him grow old.

No, Nines was not supposed to be the one to die.

Nines deserved to live more than any one of them, android or human.

It wasn’t supposed to be him.

When, finally, the sun was set far beyond its mantle, Gavin had to call it a night. And furthermore, painfully accept the mortality of his partner, of his boyfriend.

It wasn’t a fair conclusion. Androids were sentenced to death because the U.S. government couldn’t handle the thought of losing another source of enslavement. As selfish as Gavin was to journey only to save his android, his mind had developed change over just a few short months. It was hard to deny their sentience, since denying it would have meant that Gavin was falling for a toaster.

No, it was unfair and there was nothing he could do.

Nines was gone. The one good thing that had entered his life was gone.

And there was nothing he could do.

Anger boiled through his fingertips as he went to climb out of his car.

There was nothing he could do.

Gavin tossed his backpack onto the concrete ledge to retrieve later and faced the open car door. He clenched a fist around the handle and slammed it shut. Then he opened it again, shoving the damned metal with two hands now back into place. He did this several times, hastening his pace until he was sure the metal had forged a new crater.

Nines was gone.

Gavin thumped his head against the roof and angled an arm around himself protectively. That’s when the sobbing commenced. A few hot tears first burned in his sockets procured from the heat of the moment, then subsequently melted into a downpour of bitter release. Saltwater oozed past his cheeks, mingling with the slimy discharge that leaked from his nose, and adhering further down to the drool that he lacked even the simplest of strength to swallow.

With each internal repetition of his own mantra, he slammed his head harder into the rusted metal:

“He’s gone.”

Thump.

“He’s gone.”

Thump.

And there was nothing he could do.

Nothing.

Not a single goddamn thing.

Time was a mere subjective entity to the broken man. It wasn’t until the chilling air exhausted his exoskeleton of numbness that he realized his tears ducts were emptied and his feet ached for cushion. Gavin drudged up the staircase to his apartment, stumbling over every step and dragging his pack by the tips of two fingers. It reminded him of all the times he had needed Nines’ assistance through his drunken stupors. His now lost ability to climb during these muddled states came as a surprise to Gavin; he had become more dependent on the android than expected.

Eventually, Gavin achieved his minor plight, falling against his apartment door and gripping the handle for balance. It took several heaves to catch his breath and a few extra beats in between for courage before he could bind the lock with its respective key; a distinguishable challenge on its own through the bubble beginning to well from his bottom eyelids. When the door swung open, Gavin could do nothing more than to stumble inside and accept the turmoil his heart revved within him.

As he went to kick the door shut, however, a movement startled his quakes into stillness and he called out into the darkness. “Who’s there?”

Heavy stepping erupted from his room and Gavin was quick to reach for his concealed carry. Slowly, the light above him crawled along the body of a man with hands raised in surrender. A red circular blink raised high among the shadow identified him before the light could touch his face.

“Gavin,” lamented a voice, just above a whisper. Bright grey eyes reflected under the aged fluorescence, glimmering wistfully at him.

The bubbles swishing in Gavin’s sights finally popped, spilling over and singing his raw skin. His hands separated from each other and the gun went slack at his side, him ogling the floor while doing so – refusing to believe the illusion set in front of him. Then, without any preamble, he recoiled his arm and tossed the firearm recklessly into the wall beside of Nines.

The android did not move.

“You fuck-fucking shithead!”

37 notes · View notes

limitededitionsanderssidesblog · 6 years ago

Text

Will Deceit Disguise Himself Again???

So a thought randomly came to me regarding Deceit, who and will Deceit disguise himself as next? Thus far in the series, after DWIT, Deceit has only disguised himself as two sides, Patton and Logan. There are still other sides he can transform into.

But will he? As we’ve seen so far, disguising himself hasn’t lead to any significant success and he was always found out eventually, so will he even bother to try again? Well, they say third time’s the charm. But for what purpose would he need to go in disguise?

Well, let’s take a look at the other times Deceit has impersonated one of the other sides.

Deceit as Patton, in CLBG:

In order to analyze his reason behind this disguise, let’s revisit the plot behind this episode.

Thomas, who had made a previous promise to his best friend Joan to attend his staged reading, gets sidetracked with a handsome fella and forgets to uphold his promise to Joan. The next morning he gets a, seemingly angry, text from Joan asking where he was the previous night. The sides then argue over what course of action to take over the matter, be honest and face Joan’s wrath, or lie to not hurt their feelings.

In this episode, Deceit decides to impersonate Patton in order to convince Thomas that fabricating the truth would spare both Joan’s feelings and protect Thomas from any negative side effect that would come with damaging their friendship.

Later in this episode, after deceit is revealed and leaves, Patton calls him a form of “self-preservation” who wants to act in Thomas’s best interest.

Deceit knew that Patton, who is one of the most influential sides, would be adamant against lying because of his morality towards altruism. Therefore, he went in his stead before he could be summoned, which is why he was the first to appear. His entire goal in this episode is simply to protect Thomas from getting hurt and to try and convince him that lying isn’t something so morally evil.

But he isn’t just protecting him from external harm, but also from internal. Take this line into consideration.

I usually ignored this line and disregarded it as Deceit simply being snarky, until you take in Deceit’s cannon ability and responsibility to hide away all unpleasantries that Thomas doesn’t want to admit or know about himself.

He’s reflecting his purpose to protect Thomas, and he’s purposefully being sarcastic and chastizing. After all, Deceit was forced to keep himself hidden for years because Thomas didn’t want to admit that he was capable of dishonesty. He’s just as much as a side as the others, yet he wasn’t allowed to give his opinion or contribute to any of the debates because of Thomas’s fearful thinking and denial.

Years and years of being rejected finally grew to much, so when his plan to protect Thomas was rejected, he gave up on trying to conceal himself and dropped the act, although he still wasn’t able to reveal himself until Thomas gave his consent to know about him.

Look at his expression when he has to silence Logan from saying his name:

He’s just so done with it all, he looks annoyed and tired like, “Great Thomas knows something is up yet I still can’t reveal myself.”

He doesn’t take any pleasure it keeping his existence a secret, but he’s forced to, it’s how Thomas unknowingly programmed him to be. Until at the end of the episode when Thomas finally sees him for who he is and he’s no longer required to stay in the dark.

And he doesn’t even wait that long to stay gone. The next episode he’s the first of the sides to make a cameo in WDWGUITM

But then he’s immediately told to leave. After waiting years to finally be accepted into the group, he’s still ignored and despised. But more on that later.

Deceit as Logan, in SvS:

Okay, a quick summary of this vid- GO!

Thomas had just found out a few hours ahead of that he got a callback to be in an upcoming movie directed by Alfred Hitchcoppolucas, an esteemed director in this universe. However, the callback shares the same date as the wedding of two of Thomas’s friends, Lee and Mary Lee. The sides then argue which one they should go to, while Deceit initially disguises himself as Logan to try and reason why the callback is a better choice, but it quickly discovered.

I won’t go into too much depth over why Deceit wants Thomas to go to the callback (you can see my other theory, What is Deceit Really After? for further detail) but basically what Deceit is after in this episode is security for Thomas both socially and financially, a result as the part of him charged with self preservation.

But not only that, Deceit wants Thomas to stop denying the parts of him that are hidden away. Take a close look at these lines from SvS:

“That’s not really necessary. I think now you see that all this is-”

“But you’re still missing the point!”

“Okay, let me put it this way. Life... is like a pinata. Sure, and you want that makes you happy, right?! Well, in order to get that stuff you must attack the pinata. But you’re wearing a blindfold right now. You can keep it on if you like the game better that way, but if you take it off, it’s easier to get that stuff you want.”

The main point and purpose behind Deceit spending his time trying to get Thomas to admit that he wanted to go to the call back was not simply to get him to go, although that is a good portion of it. His true purpose was to get Thomas to take off his blindfold and stop denying the other sides of him still hidden away.

So, back to the main point, why did Deceit disguise himself? Well in Patton’s case it was because he still wasn’t allowed out as himself, and to protect Thomas from a potential fallout in friendship. With Logan, it was to convince Thomas to let the other sides out too and face the facts of his true self, and to get him to go to the callback for security. With these grounds covered, is there any real reason for Deceit to disguise himself again? And even if he did have a reason, who would he disguise himself as?

To figure that out, let's look over what disguising himself as the other two main sides would gain him.

Deceit as Roman:

From the first time we saw Deceit, we’ve seen him manipulate and trick Roman. In every episode he plays a major role in, he uses Roman almost like a puppet. Even roman admitted to feeling “used” at the end of CLBG.

For this reason, Roman appears to be very important to Deceit’s plans, not only because he is easily swayed with pretty words and affection, but because he shares a lot of his viewpoints. In the times that lying was brought up as a possible course of action, Roman was always initially in favor of it. And, since a large part of Roman is egoism, he can often come off as selfish, which Deceit has also been caused.

Disguising himself as Roman would be the perfect way for Deceit to get his point across without being ignored or met with negativity.

On the other hand, if Roman were to find out about Deceit disguising himself as him it could lead to a falling out between them, and cause Deceit to lose the only ally he has with the main four. This, as well as Roman chivalrous side, would never agree with letting the dark sides free, after all, he was the one who coined the name and has announced his dislike for each of the dark sides at some point or another, including pre-aa Virgil.

So the likelihood of being copied? 6.5/10, very possible, but I wouldn’t count on it

Deceit as Virgil:

This one is much harder because of their conflicting interests and their complicated history that has been hinted to but not (yet) shown.

In CLBG, Virgil was against Deceit!Patton’s idea to lie to Joan and thought it would be better to tell them the truth. This could be due to the his fear of being caught in a lie outweighing his fear of making Joan upset; or, it could be his fear that lying would summon Deceit, who he clearly doesn’t like.

In SVS, Virgil isn’t clear on his stance on the callback vs wedding debate and instead is only focusing on the fact that he doesn’t want Deceit there.

So, overall, there isn’t much for Deceit to gain by transforming into him, as the others are all well aware of his hate for him and everything he stands.

But what if Deceit were to go about it a different way?

As I once described in my other theory I linked above, it is very likely that Deceit wants Virgil back on his side because of the influence and power he has. So what if instead of disguising himself to participate in a discussion, it was to make it appear as if Virgil reverted back to his old ways and get Thomas and the others to despise him again so that he’d have no choice but to go back to the dark sides.

Even if Virgil were to appear and reveal him, this would give Deceit the perfect opportunity to let a few secrets from Virgil’s past slip. Even if Virgil denied them, that seed of doubt would be plated in Thomas’s head. And that could grow into a weed strong enough to push Virgil away, right into Deceit’s hands.

Likelihood though: 4/10, not completely impossible, but most likely won’t happen.

At this point, Deceit is so over being hidden away and having to keep the others hidden away, one possible reason he released Remus, that he may not even want to disguise himself again. It is possible we won’t see him impersonate another side on screen for a very long time, or if at all.

[Short message undercut]

Sorry, I couldn’t get this idea out of my head and I had to write it down to try and sort it all out, but honestly just came out like a mess, I’m not sure if this makes any sense. Anywho, this is my take on the whole situation. Feel free to ignore this.

#Does. this. make. any. sense???#sanders sides #sanders sides theory #ts theory #ts theories #thomas sanders #deceit sanders #ts deceit #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #thomassanders #fanders #famders

178 notes · View notes

tedswoodworkingidea · 4 years ago

Text

Teds WoodWorking Reviews

Teds WoodWorking Reviews: Practical Tips & Free PDF Plans On How To Work Wooden Materials - TedsWoodworking

Teds WoodWorking Plan Reviews - Does Ted mcgrath WoodWorking Program Really Works Or Scam? Read Ted's Woodworking Review An Honest Customer Opinion.

Ted's McGrath WoodWorking Plan Guide Review

Teds WoodWorking Plan Reviews - Does Ted mcgrath WoodWorking Program Really Works Or Scam? Read Ted's Woodworking Review An Honest Customer Opinion.

Click to Order Now

It's not an easy job to deal with wood and decorative materials. Many people waste thousands of dollars on furnishings that will wear off one day.

Ok, here's an excellent idea for all the people who are crafting and decorating their houses. This Review on Ted's Woodworking Kit presents them with a list of 16 000 quickly available items. The detailed directions in the kit also enabled many people to make their wooden products for their houses.

Several magazines on wooden items are available, but most don't share how this wooden furniture is made from scratch. It can also be such a challenge to follow directives that are not completed. So, investing in such a package will enhance one’s work. Also, the challenge of finishing a wood building project will make users incredibly satisfied with several thousand designs to choose from.

Teds Woodworking was developed by Ted McGrath and is now an online Woodworking kit. Readers will look at this model in this Teds Woodworking analysis to see the benefits and risks of this kit.

What is the Teds Woodworking Course?

This guide details the steps required to complete woodwork projects effectively. The course teaches participants the necessary skills to be a woodworker. Likewise, it has 16000 Woodworking plans to give users a chance to build some projects.

Teds Woodworking is a vast selection of over 16000 Woodworking projects. It plans that people can easily follow to design their home furniture, garden benches, dog homes, bird feeding, shed, and much more, produced by Ted McGrath, a professional woodworker, trainer, and AWI member.

Ted McGrath has been planning the woodwork service for the past two years, which, according to him, is the most detailed online package today.

But with so many woodwork kits on the market nowadays, is Teds Woodworking worth the money? Is it good enough to justify anything anyway?

To make that judgment and figure out if this kit is for users, people should learn about some Woodworking package modules by Ted McGrath.

The model guides users through the Woodworking process step by step. Besides, numerous graphs, videos, and other images instruct the developers of the project. If people follow it closely, they will learn all the essential skills appropriate for any project.

The package Teds Woodwork is a series of many woodworking plans. It also lists primary resources to build woodwork projects for home, business, office, or any other area. This is a practical woodworking course that is true and most comprehensive.

Teds is an ideal source for users to appreciate the comfort of their homes in designing their designs. It can be accessed from any digital computer and read anytime, anywhere, and later.

Who is behind the Teds Woodworking course?

The genius behind the Teds Woodworking strategy is Ted McGrath. He's a Slate Iowa-based coach, mentor, writer, and accredited master woodworker. With years of woodworking experience, Ted has agreed to create an impressive series of woodworking plans to support those who need to improve woodworking.

Teds' Woodworking's job is confirmation of Ted's experience of the woodwork. He has been planning collections on paper for timber collectors worldwide for over two and half decades. Read more about Teds' creator here.

The Major Components of the Teds Woodworking Guide

The Ted's Woodwork Kit contains approximately 16,000 wooden constructs, which user can quickly build using step by step guidance. This simple wooden article not only makes users happy but also makes people unleash their artistic side.

The package includes a step-by-step handbook for project construction. This gives users the experience of studying woodworking lessons. The directions are so user-friendly that it gives them the feeling that they learn from master woodworkers.

The package also contains a list of cutting methods and materials for any project. This list will encourage them to choose the necessary equipment for the project. Thus, one would save a lot of money by following this list. It would also please users if the job is over and not a single piece of wood is disposed of out as waste.

The comprehensive scheme section includes instructions one by one without misleading the user when selecting a wood piece. Users clarify the instructions in exact words, which removes needless uncertainty when beginning projects. One would probably feel better keeping one of the professionals in this segment on hand.

Another section that gives people a good description of each product they would like to create the project is Several views of All Angles. Well, it is essential to consider the measurements, construction, and full picture of all parts through careful planning even before individuals begin with a project. It becomes impossible to start the wooden project unless and until users know the preparation process. This part of the package is also really critical when users build something.

Beginners and pros will make optimal use of this package, as Ted's Woodworking projects are built to satisfy both experts and amateurs' needs. Anyone who wants to make their custom furnishings will invest in this kit without fear.

Ok, below is the list of products that are included in the pack. Don't people think wasting too much money on furniture is a flawed idea with all this offered by the most straightforward instructions? Users will have the option of describing their table most innovatively through Ted's Woodworking kit.

Click to Order Now

How to Use the Teds Woodworking PDF?

Users start reading their Ted's Woodworking details with the woodwork basics.

Good advice if they are going to embark on their woodworking journey is:

Starting an urgent job, for example, a bird house. Users don't undertake a complicated project suddenly since they can see how amazing it would be when completed. First, they could get sad and forget about woodworking.

When one has determined what they're going to do, check at the products and equipment they probably will need. In addition to the things needed to download, update, and publicize, there are types and corresponding quantities on the Internet.

Once the assignment is over, people continue to the next part. Here, it would ask for the same instruments.

This would encourage one to get to know specific devices even better.

If they know that stuff well, they can move on to different tasks requiring them to get a new item or 2.

Users will increasingly find that they have acquired their tools and that they have, in turn, worked out more and more complicated work.

To build or establish the most productive woodworker for his content and intentions, a successful wood designer must be intimate with the products he uses (through his study, learning from others, and personal experience), apart from the right material.

Users have to know the different wood types to be used.

Timber kinds are perfect for the continuous transformation of the environment and those that need stable climate conditions and marginal exposure.

Is This Guide Safe and Reliable?

Woodworking is an art that has offered, those who have taken action to get into it, positive effects. It's a joy to make anything from scratch at home. People sometimes care about something other than the usual routine. They will calm down with this sense of accomplishment when at work at home.

Teds Woodwork: Pricing and Where to Purchase

The cost of Teds Woodwork is $67. Discounts for various bundles are also available. Thus, the new purchasing price covers all incentives offered with the kit. People should use automated services to carry out a thorough vetting procedure to get the right tool.

The actual price of the book is 297 dollars. It is sold at a low price today, but it is expected to rise shortly. Why can't users shop today, then?

If the Teds Woodworking model is not attractive to anyone or gathers fewer details than their hopes, one shouldn't hesitate to inquire for refunds. Buyers shall have the right to complete reimbursement of their money in the event of manual difficulties.

The repayment processes can, however, be unusual and confusing. The response to customer refund requests does not annoy Ted or even customer service members.

It turns out that all refunds are entirely frustrating. All users need to add those issues to the ClickBank source directly; they are the payment portal for all Teds transactions. Theseare the steps users would take to get their funds back quickly;

Going to ClickBank's official website.

Providing information about the order and obey the choice to apply.

Clicking here to get help at the top left corner of the window on the next tab will come up.

Click to Order Now

In most cases, ClickBank promises a refund to consumers if they do so according to their timetable. Refunds can be made only within 60 days of the date of the sale. Clients have to wait a month or two to get their money back. They need patience.

The model Teds Woodworking is available on the website of Teds Woodworking. Involved parties must apply to the service and have access to it. Here, the deal costs 67$. Plus, it offers users access to 16000 wood project schemes from Teds.

Users may need more helpful details to get the level they dream of. So, they may even request additional possibilities. They will also benefit from bonuses to boost their woodwork abilities.

When users purchase the program, an email will be sent to redirect them to the users' section. Per plan for Teds Woodworking is available in DWG as well as PDF. The DWG Incentive model will open the DWG schemes and display PDF edition plans with Adobe Reader. Adobe Reader is free of charge applications, and most machines install it. If the files do not open for one reason or another, users will get a connection that lets them download a free PDF reader. In case they lack this service, the files will not open.

So, how are the packets supplied for Teds Woodworking? All Teds Woodworking plans are submitted in PDF-format via the email users send. Clients can automatically enter Teds 16000 woodworking plans when they have approved their order.

There is also an extra $19.95 DVD set for Teds Woodworking for people who would want to screen videos during their job on their woodworking projects.

McGrath’s Woodworking Bonuses

Users can also get these incentives when they order the Teds Woodworks package:

Plan or viewer for CAD and DWG. This app is designed to help woodworkers alter or edit the kit plans. It can cost a customer a further $197 to get the app alone elsewhere.

Access to several high-quality woodwork recordings. The first 150 videos of Teds' $77 worth of friends.

A woodworking manual with realistic woodworking tips: the guide is worth 37 dollars.

Users get a guide to making a successful enterprise—and doing this out of one's woodworking passion. If they order it somewhere, the book is worth $27.

Teds Woodworking Review – Final Verdict

Overall, Teds Woodworking is a thorough and informative woodworking kit that comes with a wide range of solutions for every form of woodwork people think about.

Some of them are inexpensive than this, but customers highly doubt that any kit that is as complete is with thousands of comprehensive instructions for all forms of designs, fantastic bonuses, and outstanding customer service. There are even more excellent woodworking bundles available.

Users should find this guide reviews on Teds Woodwork useful!

Click to Order Now

1 note · View note

aroworlds · 6 years ago

Text

The Vampire Conundrum, Part Two

When Rowan Ross is pressured into placing an aromantic pride mug on his desk, he doesn't know how to react when his co-workers don't notice it. Don't they realise he spent a weekend rehearsing answers for questions unasked? Then again, if nobody knows what aromanticism is, can't he display a growing collection of pride merch without a repeat of his coming out as trans? Be visible with impunity through their ignorance?

He can endure their thinking him a fan of archery, comic-book superheroes and glittery vampire movies. It's not like anyone in the office is an archer. (Are they?) But when a patch on his bag results in a massive misconception, correcting it means doing the one thing he most fears: making a scene.

After all, his name isn't Aro.

Contains: One trans, bisexual frayromantic alongside an office of well-meaning cis co-workers who think they're being supportive and inclusive.

Content Advisory: This story hinges on the way most cishet alloromantic people know nothing about aromanticism and the ways many trans-accepting cis people fail to best communicate their acceptance. In other words, expect a series of queer, trans and aro microaggressions. There are no depictions or mentions of sexual attraction beyond the words "allosexual" and "bisexual", but there are non-detailed references to Rowan's previous experiences with romance.

Length: 3, 737 words (part two of two).

Note: Posted for @aggressivelyarospec‘s AggressivelyArospectacular 2019.

Romance, too, feels like one of the mechanisms by which a dangerous trans body can be rendered more acceptable to cis folks.

“His name’s Aro,” Melanie says after lunch, showing a new volunteer around the office. She pats Rowan on the shoulder as she walks behind his chair, startling him enough that the clipping path he’s making around a photo of Damien’s head goes veering off to the side. “He does our website, our flyers and the information guides we send out. Aro like from the Twilight movies!”

Introductions once only encompassed Melanie’s habit of overly-stressing pronouns when referencing him—a dysphoria-triggering reminder that she doesn’t think him masculine enough for people to assume it. Isn’t that bad enough without her also getting his name wrong?

He sighs, frustrated. Complaining about this, when trans people are in desperate want of a working environment free of outright antagonism and discrimination, feels unreasonable. Hell, Rowan knows aromantics who’ll revel in being named “Aro”, so isn’t his hurt just pettiness? Isn’t this why he’s no longer welcome at home, a man too intolerant of his family’s mistakes? How many times did they tell him that his harping on about little things demonstrates a concerning lack of gratitude for their acceptance?

His co-workers do seem to believe in Rowan’s masculinity; he shouldn’t take that for granted.

Instead, he feels like he’s failing at being both transgender and aromantic.

After a fair amount of editing, he places Damien’s image in the brochure mock-up and exports to PDF. The office will make suggestions, some useful, some ignorant and some so absurd that Rowan will laugh with his friends later on, but that’s fine. He can’t expect otherwise in a workplace where everyone considers him possessed of unknowable ability with computers. They’re good people, in the main, and they care about their work.

It’s just complicated, and Rowan hates the feeling that complicated is the best cis people will let him get to a normalised acceptance.

“Aro? An Arrow fan called Aro? Really? Do you like comics or are you one of those people only into DC TV?”

Rowan looks up from attaching his PDF to an email to find the volunteer sitting on a creaking office chair and crab-walking it over to Rowan’s desk. “Comics?”

“Oh, good.” The volunteer sighs as if in relief. “I mean, the TV show? It isn’t terrible—better than most of DC’s movies, at least—but I’m so tired of people who call themselves fans but have never touched a comic book.”

Rowan glances at his journal cover, ponders its possible similarity to the show’s motif and nearly bursts out laughing. He’s never read a comic and doesn’t plan on doing so. He prefers indie podcasts and audiobooks on account of increased representation and greater ability to sew and cook while listening. “I’m not an Arrow fan. Sorry.”

Another show about cis people possessed of everyone-should-pair-up amatonormativity?

Hard pass.

“You’re not?” The volunteer gapes, waving his hand towards Rowan’s cluster of pride mugs. Three, now. Only one contains coffee, which feels like a terrible oversight. “Is this a joke, then? Are they getting you arrow stuff because of your name? Like some office thing?”

Aro.

His name is not Aro.

Rowan once thought the concept of snapping a mere storytelling device, something as ludicrous or impossible as “glittering eyes” or “romantic interest that lasts after getting to know someone”. At best an experience had by people without a brain that doesn’t devote most of its time to screaming alerts at the prospect of anything dangerous. Absurd, irrational, void of any real-life relevance.

Not even with his family has he felt this chilling, all-encompassing moment of enough.

He looks back at his computer, attaches a second PDF file to his email and, before he considers pesky things like consequences, clicks send. Then Rowan climbs up on his office chair, steps up onto the desk and whistles like a country boy who owned a border collie prone to sneaking off the property and rounding up the neighbour’s sheep.

Everyone in the office gapes up at him with a motley assortment of parted lips, unblinking eyes and, in Melanie’s case, the pointing of a long, vermillion-polished fingernail.

Up high, the room reeks of nesting rodents and the popcorn ceiling desperately wants refinishing.

Now Rowan’s brain tells his limbs to shake and his chest to heave; of course, he thinks as he shoves his hands behind his back, anxiety kicks in after he’s neck-deep in it! “My … my name is Rowan. I chose it.” He looks at the vent on the opposite wall, fighting to sound collected. Is that black mould? “Dad told me if I rejected my deadname, I was rejecting them. That I was being cruel and selfish. I earnt my name!” He stops, gasping for breath like a hooked fish—which, given his terror, feels far too appropriate a simile. “My identity is aro, short for aromantic, like being queer—one way of my being queer. So ... there’s a PDF booklet in your inbox about aromanticism. Read it! I’m proud of being aro, but you need to call me by the name I chose! It’s Rowan!”

He jumps down off the desk. The creaking laminate and the thud of his dress shoes, a little too large for Rowan’s feet, sound abominably loud in the sepulchrally-quiet room. Heading past giddy into faint, but pushed on by a heedlessness of the “this can’t possibly get worse because I’m going to be fired” variety, Rowan snatches up his satchel and reaches into the side pocket to pull out his handful of print leaflets. He drops one in the lap of the gaping volunteer, tosses the rest on an empty desk for luddites who prefer paper, and returns to his chair.

Seven sets of speechless eyes bore holes through his skull, shoulders and spine.

Rowan jams on his headphones, opens his no-romance metal playlist and turns his music up to a volume just short of deafening before queuing new posts to the project’s website.

When he invented the God of Trans Men as flippant rhetoric to cope with Melanie’s questions, is it right to pray to him?

***

Two hours later, doing his best to radiate an aura of do not disturb on pain of your bloody death, Rowan fights to pay attention to the last event write-up. Leaving early means asking permission and walking down the row of desks, risking stares and comments; he instead corrects Melanie’s idiosyncratic punctuation. Didn’t Melanie go to school at a time when they taught more than English comprehension? How doesn’t she know when not to use an apostrophe?

There’ll be consequences. Warnings? A formal discussion in the private office the supervisors only use for interviews? A request that he undergo counselling? A strong recommendation for psychiatric assessment? Firing? It isn’t like they can’t throw a rock and hit thousands of people under the age of forty with general computer skills and design ability who aren’t prone to standing on desks to make unwanted announcements.

No. Focus on the damn comma splices.

Should he ask his psychiatrist for the soonest possible appointment? New meds?

A tap on the shoulder makes Rowan’s head threaten to brush the probably-asbestos-riddled ceiling; he gasps and yanks off his headphones, trembling.

Melanie stands beside his chair, holding out her phone in its glossy pink case. “Those words that are underlined? Can I click on them to find out what they mean, like on a website? Like ... al-lo-sexual?”

“Hyperlinks in an interactive PDF—the file on your phone—work the same way as on a website,” Rowan says without thinking: in the last three months, he’s been asked this ten times. “If you click on those links, they’ll take you to a glossary at the end of the document with definitions.”

Damien sits facing his usual computer, his head tilted as if watching out the corner of his eye.

Melanie smiles the expression of a woman in an alternate dimension where Rowan doesn’t engage in embarrassing outbursts. “You’re so good at all this stuff, Rowan.” She stresses his name just enough that he can pretend she didn’t. “Where did you learn it all?”

He once tried to explain his philosophy of clicking on things only to realise that while the concept of generational divides requires excessive generalisation, a difference exists in terms of his willingness to fearless experimentation with electronic devices and programs. “School. Uni.”

“You’re so lucky. School was nothing like that when I was a girl. You have so many more opportunities now. And identities.” Melanie sighs and pushes a wisp of grey hair back from her eyebrows. “It’s good, it really is.”

Rowan blinks, startled into silence by a rare glimpse of validation stripped of performance and demonstration.

He hadn’t thought anyone here capable of it.

“It says that some people feel repulsed by romance? Are you like that? Should we do something? Do we need to not talk about romance in the office? Like, if I describe my daughter dating her boyfriend, not that I want to, is that bad? Do we need to hold a meeting? Damien—Damien—”

Damien turns, wearing the blinded look of a rabbit frozen in a spotlight. “Yes...?”

For how long has Damien worked with Melanie? For how long has the office rolled with Melanie’s interruptions and proclamations, her meetings called about the slightest of issues? For how long has the office accepted Shelby’s incessant reminding and Damien’s inability to surrender event photography to someone who knows how to modify their flash settings? Isn’t there a chance that they’ll tolerate Rowan’s occasional moments of desk-blathering?

A trans aro should be able to sew a patch on his bag reading “aro” without provoking cis weirdness. Since when does someone read a new word on his bag and assume that’s now his name? Isn’t that another over-the-top demonstration made by awkward cis people trying to prove their acceptance, something that’s never made Rowan feel safe?

Even when he’s aromantic, he never gets to avoid cissexism.

He slides his hands between the seat and his legs, aware of Melanie’s once again drawing the office’s unbroken attention. “I, personally, don’t care if people talk about their romances,” he says, certain that Damien needn’t answer Melanie about meetings, “but I do care when people assume I must want one. I do care when Sh … some of you just keep asking if I’m dating anyone.”

Rowan long set aside the need to bother with romance. He isn’t aromantic in the way most people first think of the word, as he does fall in love, but it describes his frayromanticism nonetheless. Why put himself through the inevitable messy, angry break-up when his partners don’t understand why what started as romance ends up to him as a friendship? When dating isn’t without trans-related challenges, why force himself into a type of relationship that he knows won’t last?

Romance, too, feels like one of the mechanisms by which a dangerous trans body can be rendered more acceptable to cis folks, in the same way it sanitises his equally-threatening bisexuality. If queers are holding hands and exchanging rings, just like cis and heterosexual couples, they’re safe.

He wants to be normal, but not that normal.

Melanie surprises him again by nodding. Opaque red only colours the corners of her lips; the worn centres reveal the brownish-pink beneath. “Like how we now don’t assume everyone’s—what’s the fancy word you use for not being you?”

“Cis. Yeah.”

“At my first job, I never dared yeah my elders. Can I ask what’s this a-sexual thing? Not-sexual? That’s a thing that can go with your a-ro-manti-cism? Am I saying it right? Is that something people can be?” Melanie grabs the volunteer’s vacated chair and wheels herself up to Rowan’s desk. “Tell me about this. Please.”

Damien gives a theatrically deep sigh, winks at Rowan and turns back to his keyboard.

Rowan’s tangle of feelings bewilders him too much to be simple relief, but he doesn’t appear to be at immediate risk of losing his job.

***

“We need to have a meeting!” Melanie announces ten days later, striding up to where Damien peers over Rowan’s shoulder to approve the touch-ups on a series of scanned photos. Rowan grasps the want to have a section on the website showcasing past events, but surely Damien’s film-camera predecessors weren’t all unable to take decent pictures? “Today. Perhaps before lunch?”

“Do we?” Damien doesn’t bother to turn his head. “What’s the number on the urgency scale, remembering that whiteboard markers aren’t a five?”

“I’m aro-ace.” Melanie stresses the words, beaming with the confidence of a child presenting a new finger-painted masterpiece. “I didn’t know, but I definitely am. I’m aromantic and asexual.”

“I’m glad for you.” Now Damien faces her, scratching his shock of unruly brown hair. “I don’t know why this needs a meeting? Do you want something addressed?”

Rowan leans back in his chair, too startled to do anything but watch. Melanie’s interrogation of him about all things a-spec over the last few days left him certain that she was questioning, but he didn’t expect this announcement—or Damien’s reaction to it.

“I’ve been reading, and I sent around a list of links everyone else should read, too. We must do something about our website. And, of course, everyone should know I’m aro-ace, and then let people ask any questions. Then we should consider changes to our submission forms, and then...”

Already, Melanie has done more to integrate her identity into the office and its projects than Rowan ever dared risk. Why, then, does he feel as though he’s being pressed inside a metal suit three sizes too small? Shouldn’t the end result be worth enduring a staff meeting in which she announces she’s aro-ace? Melanie being Melanie, she’ll gladly answer questions about aromanticism. Doesn’t that give Rowan everything he wanted—ability to be out as aromantic but someone else’s dealing with allo nonsense?

Matt’s right.

Rowan’s just a coward.

Damien nods at Rowan. “What do you think about that?”

“Uh...” Rowan draws a delaying breath, fighting against a brain too bewildered to be useful in forming comprehensible speech. “Uh … you’d have to run form changes past someone higher up, wouldn’t you? We have to ask about everything else? But...”

He doesn’t name Melanie a friend, but fellow aromantics aren’t common enough that Rowan will reject a companion—even if they’re cis and have subjected him to half a year’s discomfort, anxiety and alienation. He slides his restless hands under his legs, biting his lip against the sickening realisation. Melanie’s enthusiastic fearlessness may make this office and program better for him as an aro, but how can it answer all the attitudes that made Rowan fear coming out in the first place?

If he’s a coward, doesn’t he have reason?

“We do need a meeting,” he says slowly, his heart pounding in his chest like blast beats in death metal. “On better integrating marginalised people into our office. Because the way you emphasise my pronouns, Melanie, or the way Shelby reassures me five times that I can correct her … that doesn’t make me feel safe. It makes me feel reminded. Different. Too visible. And that’s why...”

“You ended up standing on a desk?” Damien asks with the gruffness of a middle-aged cis man trying to sound gentle.

“Yeah,” Rowan mutters. “That.”

Melanie clasps her fingers to her lips. “Oh! I didn’t mean anything by it! I just wanted people to get it right!”

How many times has he suffered through well-meaning people explaining that in response to his saying that they made him uncomfortable? How many times has he heard people justify their actions as though good intent always mitigates bad impact?

“You’re … you’re still making this about you! The only answer I want or need from you is thanks for telling me, Rowan, I won’t do it again! That’s all! Not your reasoning, not this effort to justify! I want to know that you hear me, that you’ll acknowledge that your intent however good still made me come home crying from dysphoria, and that you’ll stop because I don’t want to put up with it anymore! That’s all!”

For the second time in less than a fortnight, a chilling silence envelops the office.

“We need a meeting,” Rowan says breathlessly, reminding himself that at least this time he isn’t standing on his desk, “discussing how to include marginalised people in our office. Discussing all the microaggressions. Maybe you need to find … educators, trainers who come in and do this. I don’t know. I’m just so tired of never feeling safe or normal, never feeling like I can say anything because this isn’t hate and at least you’re not my parents! Like I don’t ever get to have anything better!”

He stands up, unsure what to do past fetching himself a distracting cup of coffee.

Maybe, then, he’ll be able to survive the way Melanie looks at him—as though he just ran over her puppy.

She just came out, and he did run right over it.

“I’m sorry.” Rowan sags onto his chair, leaning forwards to grab his satchel despite the unpleasant giddiness. “I’m sorry. It’s wonderful, Melanie, that you now know who you are and that you can come out. And it’s amazing that you’re doing things already, when I needed like six months just to get used to my knowing I’m aro. I just...” He reaches inside the satchel and pulls out a rough oblong shape wrapped in white tissue paper. “Here. I’m sorry.”

He, an allo-aro man, screwed up an aro-ace woman’s coming out. Shouldn’t he know better? He wants to laugh, wants to cry, wants to curl up in a ball and hide under his desk. Even now, when he’s trying to get what he needs as a trans man, he’s being the worst kind of aromantic!

Her lips pinched, Melanie takes the present in her hands, worrying at the top piece of tape with her long, pink nails.

“We’ll have a meeting.” Damien runs his hand through his hair as though he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I’ll talk to the heads about … sensitivity training, I suppose this also is. Would you be willing to write me an email outlining some of these behaviours and any ways we can make this office safer for you? Is that an appropriate thing to ask of you?”

“I don’t mind,” Rowan says. As long as he doesn’t go ignored, he’ll send a few emails—and he already has a few blog posts on which to draw. “Thank you.”

“Do you … want anything, now? To talk privately to me or anyone else? Or to a senior supervisor? Or someone with the government body? Can I do or arrange anything else?”

“Coffee. Please. And … and then to go back to fixing photos as though absolutely nothing happened because I don’t … do this sort of thing.” Rowan heaves a shaking sigh, pushing aside the thought that nobody can have failed to observe this. “Thank—thank you. I’m sorry. Thank you.”

He notices Damien gesturing at Melanie, notices that Rowan’s aro flag mug leaves with both and returns a few minutes later—now distracting from the office’s musty odour with its rich bitterness. He takes a few sips, but only by throwing himself into his work can he survive the gibbering, chattering thoughts building into a crushing tsunami of what the hell. Why did he do that? Why—no. Photos.

The soft clunk of crockery hitting laminate makes him look up.

Melanie leans against the edge of Rowan’s desk, her hand resting atop her new orange, yellow, white and blue aro-ace flag mug. “I’m sorry. Thanks for telling me.” She draws a deep breath, tapping her nails against the rim. “I didn’t know I could … that there’s an explanation, until I read your booklet. It described me. Things I didn’t realise about me! Things I’d been feeling! But … I’ve been learning about things like micro-aggressions. I didn’t know I’d been doing them myself. I’m sorry. I’ll keep learning. And thank you for my cup.”

“I know,” Rowan says softly, thinking back to the day when he realised the words “aromantic” and “frayromantic” describe him. A belated voicing of confusion and alienation; the naming of a constant sense of difference from the world. Revelation, understanding, explanation. “I know. I’m sorry, too. I don’t like … scenes. Or asking people things. I’m an anxious coward. So it just...”

He waves his hands, trying to mime an explosion.

Melanie, wide-eyed, jerks her head. “I couldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t done it first—and I wouldn’t have known to say anything if you hadn’t! And you’re asking us to do things knowing that we don’t understand, which must be frightening at least. You’re brave. And you shouldn’t be sorry.”

Rowan stares at her, unsure what to say in response. Never has anyone in his life freely offered such a sentiment. Never has anyone offered him something so generous without subsequent critique of Rowan’s intolerance for and impatience with their struggles to deal with him, praise softening the following reproval.

Brave.

His throat tightens and his eyes blur.

“Would you work with me on a proposal to put together for the submission forms? Damien insisted that I work with you, if you want to.”

“Uh … yeah?”

Melanie grabs a stack of papers from her desk and a chair. “I’ve gone through the old forms and highlighted passages. Do you want to read through and see if there’s anything I’ve missed or anything that should be left?”

He nods and takes the papers. Is this an alternate universe, the world flung upside down? Or, if people possess a minimum of decency, can he make needed change by addressing his problems instead of letting everyone talk over him? Can he build a world where he doesn’t endure cis or allo microaggressions by believing that their inconveniences aren’t worth more than his discomfort?

If his co-workers doesn’t object to correction, if they’re willing to make changes and investigate training, is the problem one of Rowan’s overreaction?

Does that mean he can talk to Matt the way he spoke to Melanie and Damien?

“Is something wrong?” Melanie asks, frowning.

Rowan shakes his head and plucks a pen from his frayro mug. “No.”

For the first time in a long time, that’s mostly true.

69 notes · View notes

morgannalefey · 4 years ago

Text

Homes, relationships, realtors

These are a series of anonymous questions I was asked and I'm endeavoring to answer them. I am not a concise writer. I apologize in advance for the length of this post.

Step 1: Start Your Research Early. Step 2: Determine How Much House You Can Afford. Step 3: Get Prequalified and Preapproved for credit for Your Mortgage. Step 4: Find the Right Real Estate Agent. Step 5: Shop for Your Home and Make an Offer. Step 6: Get a Home Inspection. Step 7: Work on home loan with bank lender Step 8: Get home appraised Step 9: Complete paperwork and close the deal ?

How were you able to learn what the homeownership steps entailed and how did you vet the realtor, home inspector, home appraiser, and lender, if you used them? How did you ensure the people whose help you enlisted were legit and were going to do right by you?

How did you find out what the paperwork/legal aspect of marriage was going to entail (research so far has given me a few different answers)? There was a lot I either didn’t know or didn’t understand - you need to get your ring appraised and added to your insurance (what kind of insurance), for example? You need to change how your tax filings and paperwork in general, especially if you choose to change your last name, etc. I’m scared of missing an item and running into some obstacle😫

How do you also ensure that your name and/or your spouse’s name is on the deed and stays there? I’ve come across TOO many stories about one party thinking their name was on the deed only to find out it either wasn’t or it was removed. Or one party dying and the remaining party finding out the place wasn’t on their name or was removed. Or, one party kicking the other out and not being able to advocate for themselves because their name, come to find out, isn’t on the deed😳😞 How do you avoid all that (besides vetting your potential SO properly lol)

------------------------

The first thing I want to say is I am NOT a financial advisor or a counselor/therapist. I am not a lawyer. I am a 55 year old database developer (in 2020) and have bought several houses and been with/married to the same person for 32 years. Prior to this person, I played a very large field of folks, and was in a lot of short-term relationships. The longest relationship I'd been in by the time we met was 10 months and it ended very badly. I'm not an expert, I'm just old and experienced. Another thing I am is frugal. While I'm being detailed, I'm also bi, cis, childless-by-choice, mostly-abled, and white. I can't speak directly to the experiences that marginalized folks (especially those with multiple marginalizations) have had.

I'll talk about the relationship stuff first 'cos that'll be the shorter answer. I met my spouse in an online space for roleplaying gamers back in 1988 (before the internet existed there were dialup networks, I was on those basically from 1983 on). The beginning of our relationship was a shared interest in roleplaying games. We also found similar tastes in books. Over time we discovered other shared interests, or got each other interested in the things we cared about. We both love being in the woods, and the natural world. We care deeply about the environment. We have always been in agreement politically. At first we were on opposite ends of religious matters, and neither of us tried to change the other in that regard. Eventually we grew together on that. We both knew from the outset that we wanted to travel the world together.

There have been stumbles. Bad ones. We are able to hurt each other more than any other human on the planet, and we're aware of that. We try not to, but sometimes we just, do. Then we talk about it. We've been in therapy to work things out several times, and have learned techniques for working through our problems. The thread running through all of this is we were committed to making it work, to working through, to not giving up.

We have woven our lives together into a fabric that works for us. This takes trial and error. It takes being willing to make mistakes and, more importantly, forgive those mistakes. It requires you to learn from your mistakes and to do personal work. You have to be willing to change the things about yourself that need changing. Certainly some things are deeply embedded. Those things you need to learn work arounds for. It's especially difficult to figure out which things are too deeply embedded to be changed, and which are mostly habits you can retrain. Ideally they'll be supporting you through this work, and doing their own work along similar lines. If things work out, you're both growing as more emotionally mature individuals who bring things to the relationship that help sustain it through the hard times.

It helps that I am good at things he's not, and vice versa. We have a decent division of labor (both emotional and household). We give each other space to enjoy our different interests, too. I love movies of all sorts, but he's mostly fond of SF and action movies. We will watch those things together, and I watch my romcoms and historical dramas on my own while he's doing his stuff.

Sometimes it's a choice you have to make every day, to stay together. Sometimes it is effortless. Still, it always takes time to build shared experiences. To build traditions. To figure out how you fit together. This is time well-spent, even if you discover that you just don't fit together and you can't make it work. This prepares you for your next opportunity to explore with another person.

Now on to home ownership.

tl;dr is we did research into mortgages and closing costs and everything to do with buying a house before we bought one using various resources (mostly at libraries, this was in the dark ages when we bought our first house)

We were living in Juneau, AK when we got to the point that we had enough stable income to start talking about owning a home. This got us talking about the future, and our plans. Specifically we talked about what it would be like when we were finally able to travel like we wanted. We realized that if we were still in Juneau, all of our travel plans would be doubled in cost because just getting out of Juneau is a trip in itself. We decided (not just for that reason, but a lot of other ones, as well) that we wanted to move and we would buy a house somewhere else.

For a lot of people the answer of "where" is obvious but it wasn't for us. We made a list of qualities for where we wanted to live.

Inside the US

Low population growth

Not on the west coast

Not in the south

Within a day's easy drive to the ocean

At least four distinct seasons

There were other criteria we had on the list, but those were the ones that narrowed our search down to Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont. Then we spoke with work friends who had lived in all three states. They heartily recommended Vermont over the other two for a few good reasons. We both wanted to work for the state so we researched where most of the state jobs were located. That placed us in central Vermont.

Deciding where you want to own a home isn't just about what you can afford, but where you want to live. There's a lot you can change about a home once you buy it, but you can't change the location. When you buy a home you're putting yourself into a place that it's not going to be a simple matter to leave if you decide you want to later. It's not impossible, but depending on where you buy, it can be very difficult to sell again. Deciding where you are going to focus your home search is part of the research you want to do.

Figuring out how much house you can afford is a complicated thing. The financial institutions will encourage you to buy the maximum amount of house you can afford based on your income, a snapshot of your debt load, and your credit rating. That's all well and good, but you also need to take into account your actual lifestyle. If you never were interested in cooking, then it's a waste of money to buy a home with a big ole "professional" kitchen because it's all shiney and cool. You could buy a less expensive home with a smaller, more functional kitchen suitable for the lunchables you "prepare" on the daily, and put that extra money into something else.

Figure out what things you must have, that if a house doesn't have it, you're not going to buy it. For some people that's X bathrooms. For others it's lots of inside storage. Make actual lists of these things that you keep handy so you can just check for them when you're doing your search. Divide the list up into "must have" vs "nice to have" vs "I wouldn't pay more for this but if it's there it could be a tie breaker". The list may change as you start looking over listings, and that's fine. It helps you figure out what is really important to you.

Financial institutions. I... hate... banks. I haven't done my financial transactions with a bank (generally speaking) for over thirty years. Credit unions are the financial institution to work with. Of course, that is something to take with a grain of salt because there are some horrific credit unions with shitty customer service and nasty fees all over, too. If you can get into a state credit union (in Vermont anyone who lives in Vermont or works for the state can join the Vermont State Employees Credit Union) do it. There's typically a minimum deposit required in one account (for my credit union I have to keep $25 in a savings account). When you're looking at financial institutions to finance through, do your research of course, but include credit unions in your research. Look for first time home buyer programs (there are federal programs for this, as well). Look for low interest rates. The blog you should be looking into is Bitches Get Riches for more specifics on this. Their information is way more up to date and helpful regarding interest and mortgages and stuff.

You're going to need money to pay the closing costs. That is money that you pay over and above the mortgage. You will need money to put a deposit down on whatever house you want to buy. The deposit tells the seller you're really interested. If they decide to accept the offer from someone else, you will get the desposit back. If they accept your offer, the deposit goes towards purchase/closing costs. You will need money for the appraisal, an inspection (do not buy a home without an inspection, if they won't let you do an inspection, run), and a title search. These are all over and above closing costs. How much you can expect to pay is variable and something else to research. You will also need a down payment. If you can't put 20% of the purchase price in as a down payment, you will also need to buy private mortgage insurance. That cost typically gets rolled into your monthly mortgage payment. You will also need homeowners insurance.

Once you've worked these things out, you're ready to really dig into the listings. This used to be a whole lot more complicated than it is now. The MLS used to only be available to realtors, but that has changed. Most realtors will list houses online in a searchable place (the best places to do searches varies by region, in New England, I would look on the NNEREN website (Northern New England Real Estate Network). In other areas Zillow might be the best place to look. It really depends on what the standard for local realtors is where you want to buy.

The great thing about online searching is you can plug things in, make notes, save favorites, and build lists of features, or things you care about. There's typically photos of the property that get you started, as well. Because of these online tools, you don't really need a realtor to represent you in the sale. You can contact the realtor representing the seller if you want to see a property.

It can be tiring, looking at houses. Doing research. It takes time. If you can't, or don't want to do this, then you can get yourself a buyer's realtor. Their job will be to take the criteria for what you're looking for and find houses that might work for you. They present you with the options, and will arrange for a viewing if you like any that you're seeing. This has the benefit of reducing how much research you have to do personally, but it does mean that they get a cut of the final sale (but it also means you have a realtor on -your- side in the negotiations, though they're not allowed to influence you on certain things like what price to offer). Because they get a cut, some sellers won't work with buyer realtors.

The snarky answer about how you find a realtor you can trust is "you really don't". Realtors are all about closing house sales with the least amount of effort on their part possible. That is their job. That is how they earn their money. Every time they have to do something for you, it reduces the value of the commission they make off the sale. Some realtors resent this, others don't care and just see it as part of doing business. Some of them are really friendly, and love their job and love helping people find homes. Others are snotty nozzles. But they are all trying to sell you the most expensive house they can get you to fall in love with. They will regularly try to go $10-20K over your stated "highest cost" on the assumption that you won't really mind having to pay "just a LITTLE bit more" on your mortgage payment to have whatever feature they're trying to convince you that you really want.

Don't fall for this. Stand fast on your financial limits. Remember that increased purchase price means increased closing costs. Find a realtor that doesn't make you want to shower after you talk to them, and who will take your calls or answer your emails. If they won't communicate the way that works best for you, find another one. There is always another one who has a different style. It's OK to shop for realtors.

Different regions have different rules about real estate. Spend some time looking into your state's rules. Like in Vermont, you have to get a radon test. Some things are national, but a lot are regional. There are SO many guides online these days it should be possible for you to find one fairly local to help you be sure you're doing everything you need to. Your state might even have an agency for helping first time buyers.

Ensuring folks are legit: Find out what licensing requirements there are in your state. Realtors have to take tests and get licensed to sell within their area. This is something they should be proud to display in their office because it's not a simple test they have to take. Appraisers typically need a license, too. To get a title search done you need an attorney, they also have professional oversight. An attorney might ask for an initial low deposit (they have to pay for copies in town offices) but most of these professionals won't ask for payment in advance. If they do, be wary. Ask around to see if that's usual in your area. They usually bill for their services after they've provided their report here. Try talking to a variety of people about what realtor they have used, or what appraiser. Ask for referrals from folks you know (coworkers, friends, family of coworkers, etc). You can also search online for reviews of services and see the bad experiences folks have had (most folks only complain about bad service, so take those with a grain of salt).

In the end, you're buying a service, and the person performing the service should be doing their job. If you find out that they didn't, because they are licensed (and possibly insured), you will probably have recourse. Obviously it's better to avoid that because it's a painful thing. But sometimes that's just how things shake out.

I have to say that I've never considered a situation where my name might have been removed from my deed without my knowledge. I suppose if I were worried, I'd set up a reminder to check on it occasionally, like checking on my credit rating from time to time. I mean, to remove you without your knowledge requires forging documents. I know that this sort of thing happens, but... there's only so much you can do to protect yourself if someone is intent on breaking the law in some way. So, I guess, really pay attention to red flags when you're starting a relationship. Don't assume they will change if they're engaging in concerning behaviors.

Phew, the tax stuff is a whole other thing. It's usually worth working with a tax preparer the first year you're filing after buying a house. They can go over all the paperwork with you, so you understand it. Property taxes are so local that you really need to research it based on where you’re buying.

We have a specific amount on our homeowner's insurance that covers "household item loss" up to a certain amount of money, and we specify how much. We have a LOT of computer equipment, so ours is fairly high. If I were to lose a ring, it'd be covered under that. My engagement ring was a $50 cubic zirconia. Our wedding rings were a few hundred. Our computer stuff is way more valuable monetarily.

About all the things relating to marriage and how it entwines lives legally: that's like a dissertation for another day. :) There are huge articles out there talking about all the things that getting married means from a legal stand point. It varies by state and even city. It matters if it's a same-sex marriage or not, as well (it shouldn't but some places have "civil unions" which aren't always the same legal thing as hetero marriages).

If you're still here, wow. I'm impressed. I'm happy to answer questions. Maybe consider me like an elderly queer aunt who doesn't mind talking a lot. I hope this helps you.

1 note · View note

violexides · 5 years ago

Text

school system bitchery

placed under the cut for length:

the american school system, in my experience and limited to my experience and general knowledge, systematically implements the principles and thought processes that directly correlate to students living an unbalanced life, despite the time period in which you are a student running through the period of adolescence and typically ending before your brain even develops properly (which, learning does help your brain, i do recognize that, but in terms of just. the emotional impact here).

bottom text.

okay but if you think about it the standard portrayal of the adult workaholic who lives in a miserable job, shown to students as undesirable, is living a life directly connected to how the school system shows a student’s ‘priorities’. students are taught to prioritize learning and getting good grades over personal life outside of school (which is ESPECIALLY emphasized in the “gifted program” sphere, but is generally applicable to all). getting good grades means access to a good college which means access to a good future, which is almost advertised as something deeply competitive, where you have to get the best score out of your peers.

(gifted programs, from personal experience, absolutely feed into this competitiveness and does not try to hide it. at some point, it is the students saying it themselves. someone got an 100% on a difficult test? someone will ask who. someone didn’t show up to class? multiple people will wonder. someone got into an ivy league school and their closest friend didn’t? some point, it tastes like betrayal.

of course, i’ve fed into this. it is remarkably difficult, in this atmosphere, to understand my sister who is upset at getting a lower A than she wanted on an exam she thought she would ace, when i actively got a C on some of my tests.)

this unbalanced life and the difficulty seen in school courses is met with-- especially in high school gifted programs, i’ve noticed-- burn out. personal experience, hello, i am burned the fuck out. looking at quick statistics from the CDC, last reviewed in july 2020, a 2016 study says 9.4% of students age 2-17 in america have diagnosed ADHD. study that looks like it’s from 2018 says that 7.1% of students age 3-17 have diagnosed anxiety, 3.2% have diagnosed depression, and approximately 3/4 children diagnosed with depression also have anxiety.

you may noticed i bolded diagnose. it is really goddamn hard to get a diagnosis. getting a diagnosis requires seeing a professional who can diagnose you, which operates under the presumption that the student is in the place to access a professional, or that the student can financially afford it (insurance is not always the most helpful with these things, my family is luckily enough to pay for shit out of pocket, but i know people held back by both these constraints). so, these percentages likely increase when that is factored.

(the cdc does say that around 80% of students with depression got treatment, and around 60% with anxiety got treatment. i haven’t looked into the actual study itself so i am not 100% sure, but again. this is operating under who is diagnosed).

these aren’t negligible statistics, and this does not even FACTOR IN the plethora of other mental illnesses, disabilities, general barriers, trauma, and general life occurrences that can affect students physically, emotionally, and yes, in how they work.

so we have mentally ill students with burnout facing difficult classes and dealing with comparison, and how is this handled? well, the counselor crisis is so goddamn complicated that i don’t know how to tackle that shit, but lets focus on mental health education.

to put it simply, the information is outdated, skims over a vast majority of mental illnesses or other things that impact student mental health, offer unrealistic solutions (the inequity in implying that every student can seek help seems to go unrecognized, at least on surface level, though i know personally that there is work, at least in my state, to be better at addressing this), and, what really gets me is, it offers NO MENTION of how this affects PRODUCTIVITY.

when you think of the random student that has missing assignments and failing grades, what is the first thought? someone who is lazy, who sleeps in class, who doesn’t care enough, right? if we want to tackle systematic racism, too, what are the odds that we are made to believe that this hypothetical student is white? those odds are sure as hell lower than being told that they are a person of color. right?

well, look at it like this. common symptom of depression, for example? missing assignments, hypersomnia, et cetera. oh okay. so student A is lazy, right. gotcha.

okay, well. if student B can get the assignments done, why can’t student A? well, the adversity a student experiences isn’t comparable. but also, draw this back to the standards naturally set? lets take a close look at what i myself did yesterday for one of my classes, and what my friend did (also i would like to note here, since this is a real life example, that not all this fault falls to teachers. this teacher was actually incredibly accommodating. this is more systematic.)

well, we had this long assignment for a java 2 programming course. we had a few weeks to do it, but of course, studying for 3 other tests and trying to do projects, amidst extracurriculurs and personal life, can make this difficult. so, we put it off.

yesterday, student C had dinner at 11 and stayed up a good majority of the night trying to get this done. they did not do excellent on all of it or get every answer right. the teacher was fortunately accommodating (and if they weren’t? what then.) student D spent 6 hours straight, also neglecting food and mental health, to attempt all the problems, got a C on the final test for it, and eventually gave up and went to bed extremely exhausted.

i am student D, by the way. student C is another person, but they’re remaining anonymous. no shit, of course i;m gonna keep them anonymous.

okay, i’ve been typing this for like, 10+ minutes, so i should wrap this shit up at some point. i will bitch about this more later.

main points: the education system of america systematically sets up students to fail the impossible ‘standard’, the topic of mental health is not tackled effectively, students are directly placed against each other and this is used as a ‘motivator’, and there are a plethora of other issues i did not tackle.

remember to drink water, have some food, get some rest, and compliment yourself. you are not a failure for struggling to succeed. i’m proud of you. remember that.

edit one: i did read over this later and i did want to say that i am not explicitly saying student A has depression definitively. that sort of claim actually does have ties to the mental health education in schools too, go figure. i am mainly trying to prove the point that labeling these students as lazy is incredibly damaging. i have recently broken down over the fact that i may be labeled as ‘lazy’ for not being on time with all my assignments and scoring low scores. i am not lazy. i am burnt out, mentally ill, and taking college level classes as a high school sophomore. just some food for thought.

#personal #school system #the american school system we know and love #education rant #education issues #i did not proofread this #sorry if there are things i said that were not directly backed w statistics #this is mainly presonal experience and CDC information since this was like #very impromptu #i need to chill now okay

2 notes · View notes

deviationdivine · 6 years ago

Text

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

413 notes · View notes

seedstool41-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Master In Event Management Abroad.

Marquee Hire

#toc background: #f9f9f9;border: 1px solid #aaa;display: table;margin-bottom: 1em;padding: 1em;width: 350px; .toctitle font-weight: 700;text-align: center;

Content

Marquee Hire Quote

Adhere To Event Companies And Also Look For Experience

Communications As Well As Advertising And Marketing Police Officer

Wide Marquees From: ₤ 600.

Marquee Hire Quote

An on the internet event planning course can be a great way for you to begin to recognize what event planning involves and also find out the essentials. To break into a career in event control, getting an internship or offering with a charitable to help them plan their fundraising occasions can be advantageous. You'll obtain hands-on experience in working with a real event and also develop your expert network at the exact same time. An organizer carries a great deal of obligation ensuring the customer enjoys as well as creating an event that fits the customer's assumptions and demands. Geoff Beers is a previous professional for The Balance Small Business.

What is marquee hire?

For an event or wedding with 100 guests sitting at long tables, we recommend marquee that is at around 9m x 18m. A marquee of this size will allow for good access and egress for your main guests whilst making room for a 'top table' of honourees.

Follow Event Companies As Well As Look For Experience

What size event tent do I need?

It is unlikely that you will need planning permission for the marquee as it is a temporary structure. But you would require planning permission if the marquee remained for more than 28 days. You may need to apply to your local council for a Temporary Event Notice.

Working in the occasions market isn't nearly your individual abilities, it's additionally concerning making links. This isn't about making use of relatives and pals to get your foot in the door, however concerning understanding the relevance of growing an important network of occasions industry specialists as well as various other experts. If you wish to make it as an occasions organizer or supervisor, you need to be friendly.

https://maplestage99.livejournal.com/266.html ">

What is a marquee wedding?

1British A large tent used for social or commercial functions. 'Putting up marquees and tents and other types of shading is something many people find complicated if not impossible.

The idea is that your commitment to your work and occupation should not come at the cost of your personal life. The boosted focus on stress and anxiety, which has substantial mental health and wellness ramifications, is especially relevant to the events market. Developing fresh, creative ideas for your events will make them attract attention, whether that takes the form of an initial motif, an inspiring speaker or a special venue. Even if you're limited by your clients' needs, you still need to be creative and flexible to maximize your short; staying in touch with sector trends will certainly assist keep your influenced.

These innovative event planning training courses are developed for students that are severe about going after a profession in event planning. If you're simply, find out Event Planning From Scratch-- Make 7k Per Event is a wonderful training course starting your event planning profession. The instructor aids walk you via all the parts of event planning, from the first client contact to assessing your event afterward.

It may nearly appear clichéd as well as too obvious to include this, however above whatever else, being genuinely enthusiastic regarding planning an event is the most crucial top quality of all. The best occasions experts put lots of enthusiasm as well as power into their work. You most likely won't get on in the occasions industry if you don't feel a pang of satisfaction at a job well done as soon as your event is up as well as running.

How much does a marquee wedding cost?

In the context of this question which is “marquee clash”, marquee implies that the match is expected to attract much more viewership than any other match (i.e., between other teams). In other words, the match is a crowd puller or has a higher entertainment value or quality of the performance or, all of them.

Fulfilling, convention, as well as event coordinators work to guarantee that this objective is achieved flawlessly.

Today, the area of event management has actually ended up being much more streamlined and requires high professional criteria from event professionals.

As a result, among the most vital event planning abilities needed is sociability.

Effective event supervisors have the capacity to strike a chord with the people they satisfy as well as develop enduring relationships with them.

Communications And Marketing Police Officer

Competition within the event management industry is intense and also your attitude, commitment and on-the-job efficiency are the key differentiators between the people picked for promo as well as individuals left. Largely employed by events management companies, event organisers often tend to collaborate with a range of customers across the general public industry, private sector and also third field. However, some event organisers might work in-house for huge multinational corporations, while others service an independent basis.

If you can grow leisure activities, rate of interests and an encouraging social circle, you can strike the appropriate balance between your occupation in cases industry, and also your individual as well as exclusive life. Work-life balance has actually gone into the discussion about the future of job over the last few years.

These programs are indicated for individuals who have actually done a couple of events but seem like they require a little bit of aid to end up being a remarkable event organizer. Event Planning 101 is another training course that can help you recognize the basics of the field. A few of the product you'll discover is how business jobs as well as what your precise duty as an event coordinator will certainly be. Created for novices, the complying with training courses will certainly aid you build an event planning foundation. If your enthusiasm for event planning can be turned right into an occupation, you'll be able to discover.

Wide Marquees From: ₤ 600.

You're detail-oriented, very arranged and also an individuals person. You may be thinking that event planning can be the right career path for you.

Make Your Day Extra Special With A Wedding Marquee In London.

Rather than alleviation or exhaustion, a completed event should leave you feeling pleased that all your occasions have actually developed something your visitors absolutely appreciated. Business clients can be either event savvy or might require to be informed about the uses and advantages of occasions as a critical marketing interactions tool.

This program instructs you exactly how to end up being an effective event coordinator, even if you have no budget or money. You'll acquire understandings on exactly how to produce added income streams for your events, in addition to the option you require to get even more customers and also money.

He is an advertising and marketing expert with experience holding and coordinating massive occasions for business celebrations and academic functions. Experienced team-- Our team have decades of experience in event planning and also are right here to assist. By determining the signs of being also busy and also handling your time and also top priorities, occasions experts can avoid wearing out.

How much space do you need for a marquee?

Most receptions for 100 people cost around $5,000 to $10,000, with average cost being around $7,000. Here's a breakdown of what you'll be spending on everything – from food to service and staffing, along with alcohol and rentals for a wedding of approximately 100 guests.

youtube

#Marquee Hire Dublin #Rent A Marquee #Marquees For Hire #Marquees #Marqueess #Event Organiser #Event Planning #Event Management #Event Companies

1 note · View note

diloph · 5 years ago

Note

Diloph, I don't mean to bring SU discourse to your blog, and I haven't actually watched in a long time, but I was wondering what you think of how the Diamonds have been handled. I'm not against evil people being redeemed, but everyone just being a-ok with them feels off. They're the reason Pink was such a horrible person, they mutilated their own people into forced fusions, and implied genocide. Meanwhile Jasper had to go through hell, even though she was just following the diamonds orders.

It's... a difficult question to answer, really.

I don't think they're irredeemable, though before Pink's “death” (and her subsequent, literal death), it might have proven impossible to find a chink in their self-absorbed way of thinking. I've seen far worse villains being offered redemption with angst and sympathy about them not taking it or what they could be if they did, as well as worse villains actually taking the redemption and making it stick.

Part of me thinks that people struggle to reconcile the idea of the Diamonds being redeemed because of who they are. The Diamonds are the absolute highest authority when it comes to Gem society and all the things that Homeworld has done. Every move they've made that's hurt somebody, unless it was based in individual biases, accidents or coincidence and so on, has come from orders from the Diamonds, or Gems looking to please the Diamonds by fulfilling a function.

They aren't soldiers, or henchmen or superweapons given sentience, they're the top dogs. So far as we're aware, there's nobody above them. They are accountable for everything.

I kinda look back at what Pearl said in an earlier episode, that humans like to rationalise that all the evils of the worlds can be taken to some higher place, some ne'er do-well who can be confronted and defeated, allowing us to live in a place where everything is good forever, or at least until the next one chances their arm.

The Diamonds, particularly White, are those figureheads.

While the specifics are blurry (how many worlds and lifeforms, let alone sentient lifeforms for example) and we don't know how far reaching the consequences are in full, it's clear to me that the Diamonds have done some pretty terrible things. Just their treatment of Pink and their own subjects alone is plenty evidence for them to be marked as evil. In turn, their evil acts inspired or instructed others to do evil acts, with all the consequences that followed.

Enter Steven.

Steven Universe is a show based in optimism and hope; acknowledging that everybody makes mistakes and can be a good person, if they're willing to put the effort in. However, I don't think it pulls any punches when it comes to the fact that it acknowledges that evil and cruelty etcetera are things to be confronted and fought against.

In that sense, the Diamonds are certainly given a lot of leeway. They've perpetuated a system that has caused rampant destruction and suffering, even amongst their own subjects, even amongst themselves and the show believes that they can be redeemed. How? How can they possibly ever account for all the suffering they've caused?

I think the answer to that lies in the fact that Steven, as Pink's son, has the leverage over the Diamonds that Pink never had. He has given them hope after they spent millennia in mourning, hatred and stagnation. Even the mighty White Diamond, arguably the most powerful being in the universe, will bend over backwards to please Steven, even in the slightest way, just if it keeps him around, just if he can fill the void that Pink left behind.

That in mind, we're faced with another question. What happens when Steven dies? 100 years after that? 1000? 10000? Even longer than that? What's to stop them from shrugging their shoulders and just starting up the colonies again?

The answer, is of course, we don't know. We don't know if the Diamonds are simply biding their time, smiling through their teeth, until Steven carks it and then it's back to razing civilisations they go, but given the general tone of the series, I doubt that Steven Universe is as cynical as that.

It's certainly not realistic. People do that all the time. But equally people do monstrous things, realise that they have done monstrous things and then try to account for them. Whether they can or not is subjective, but equally it's just as unrealistic to believe that absolutely nobody would ever do the right thing because they've done the wrong thing, or have remorse and regret over their actions.

Steven Universe is an escapist fantasy series about a magical boy and his magical rock mothers and their cool adventures. It's not to say that the issues can't be addressed ever, but people are far, far too cynical about it; I think that we're meant to it, to believe that such a world could come to pass if we tried hard enough. Wouldn't it be great if we could get through to everybody with a smile, a song and a speech? That people who have done great misdeeds can make up for them?

Ultimately, the Diamonds have made the first step. They want to interact with Steven and as a result, they are capable of feeling empathy (though whether they lacked it before or had simply repressed it or were even simply ignorant to the suffering of “lesser” beings because of how they were made) and the test will come as life goes on. We may never see that effort in full, hell, Steven may never see that in his lifetime, but he hopes that they can change.

It's not without evidence. Blue speaks at length about it before White Diamond assumes direct control of her. White gives up when Pink Steven knocks her down and unites with Flesh Steven to make good ol' Regular Steven, beyond throwing a tantrum for a bit. They go to Earth and help to uncorrupt some of the many Gems that they're responsible for harming. By the movie, even their Pearls, who are meant to be sycophantic slaves, programmed for that even, have enough freedom of speech to snort and sneer at their former god-empress.

A lot of willpower has went into them making changes, prompted by Steven or not and things are looking bright so far. If they really wanted to, the Diamonds could answer to absolutely nobody. For the longest time, they believed that they were all-powerful, immortal and invulnerable. Prior to the war on Earth, it was believed that Diamonds couldn't be shattered. Now that we know the circumstances behind it, for all we know, they can't be shattered at all.

Even making them retreat into their Gem is hard enough; Yellow couldn't poof Blue (though, again, whether she was trying to and not capable remains to be seen) and Pink needed to be “shattered” with a specialised weapon to poof her.

Oh, sure, people are quick to rally around the Breaking Point, but they forget that it was never used against anybody, let alone the Diamonds. We don't even know how practical it would've been to use in battle, after all, the only person using it and knew how it worked intimately was defeated by a child with a sword while he was trying to run away.

Whether the Breaking Point or indeed anything could kill a Diamond, so far, the only weapon that has even came close to inhibiting a Diamond's Gem was Spinel's Rejuvenator, but I'd argue that's a moot point. Even if the Diamonds could be fought, defeated and contained through struggle or the efforts of some Super Fusion, it might not be possible for them to account for their crimes in a way that deprives them of their lives.

Incarceration or bubbling might work, but they could always be freed. How long do bubbles last, how long would it be until a mistake frees one of them or loyalists free these immortal and unkillable beings?

Conventional methods of “dealing” with the Diamonds are entirely speculative and until Rebecca introduces something like “Diamond Smasher” missile platforms, invented by Peridot and Bismuth collaborating, I would hazard that Steven's method of influencing these Gem matriarchs is probably the best in the long run.

The effort he's going to isn't to destroy the Diamonds, it's to save them and in turn, the people they could hurt if they were allowed to continue on. The people that they have hurt, to allow them to recover. To make them into better people that will feel guilt and remorse for their actions, try to account for them by protecting all life they come across for the rest of time, to the fullest of their abilities. If they are immortal then they require an immortal solution.

It doesn't mean that those they hurt (and are alive and are still capable of thought, because man the things that people can do to others in real life are fucked up enough, let alone in magic sci-fi land) are going to forgive them. Why should they? They are the victims, they have been hurt. Turning the Diamonds into better people is to stymie more people getting hurt, to account for that damage they caused. It may never be enough, it can never be enough, but it's better than nothing and it's certainly better than the opposite.

Who knows how the Diamond's saga will end? Actually, no, stupid question; Rebecca Sugar, probably, but as for the rest of us, we're in the dark. Will the Diamonds step down as leaders, even as figureheads, of Homeworld? Will they leave their species in order to make a fresh start in some new quadrant of the universe where they can help others and those that they've hurt don't have to look at them? Will they depart unannounced one day and sit on a ship, gathering dust, for all eternity? Would they even try to kill themselves if the guilt got too strong?

To sum it up, I don't know. I want to believe the best in people, that everybody can account for their actions to some degree because I'm a bit of an optimist, but I realise that there are some things that can't be forgiven or absolved or made up for or whatever. But, maybe, in that universe, they can. Maybe they can heal the Cluster? Maybe they can help every single shard? Rebuild every ruined life? Its nature as a lighter shade of a complicated universe means that there is potential and there is hope to do so.

And now that we're in Steven Universe Future, it's clear that the Diamonds aren't being absolved of all sin. Pearl assumes that White Diamond was the one behind Volleyball's (no, sorry, can't do it) Pink Pearl's damage and she's furious. When she realises it was Pink, she's shocked and disturbed, but is still supportive of her older counterpart. She doesn't hesitate to comfort her or when Steven snaps, defend Pink Pearl against her own son. She recognises that the person she'd loved did a terribly fucked up thing, intentional or not and moves to comfort the victim.

Steven finds their attentions exhaustive in the movie, though that is probably down to spending so much time with them and investing so much effort in getting them to change, leading him to leave them abruptly despite their pleas to stay (and resume his post so to speak, but probably just as much for the company). When they appear at the end, Steven, who has had a rough day, doesn't particularly sweet-talk them into going so much as flat out telling White that he wasn't crazy about them living on Earth, even as White tries the dramatic grandma act.

It's probably why I'm a lot more kind on the ending of the film having Spinel leave with the Diamonds. They both need somebody to help them with their problems and they sort of fill the niche that they each want from the other, while acknowledging that it isn't going to be as it was before and that they aren't the person who they are replacing. They will try.

(And for the record, if things go to hell, Spinel can take care of herself. In fact, I'd worry more about the Diamonds pissing off her than the other way around, she's a smart cookie.)

Honestly, it's the layers of complexity that Steven Universe has that makes a simple question like the one posited kinda difficult to answer. Referring back to that, Jasper for example, why does it seem like she's having to work super hard for a redemption? The answer is that she's pretty complex too.

From what I've read and seen about Jasper, her biggest failing is that she's Gem Vegeta meant to be this perfect super soldier, indestructible and unbeatable. She was built to fight and relishes battle, loves any opportunity to prove that. She takes pride in her abilities because she was literally the best type of gem to do them and was born as a flawless being in Gem eyes. She fulfils her function and she's equipped to do so with maximum efficiency.

Naturally, to quote the saying, pride goeth before the fall. Jasper's hangup is that she does not cope with failure well; she acknowledges that it happens, but constantly rails against it. New strategies, new tactics... new excuses for her failure. New people to blame.

Jasper's biggest failing is that she believes that, despite being the perfect Quartz soldier, she was also born a failure. The colony failed and their leader, a Diamond, was destroyed by the rebels that she went toe-to-toe with and could not beat. She failed in protecting the being that she was most loyal to... and that failure haunts her.

When it came time to bail and nuke Earth from orbit, Jasper was left without a chance to avenge Pink, settle the score and find closure. No matter what she did and was that she failed Pink Diamond and everything else from thereon in was a failure as a result.

But failure was something that imperfect, flawed Gems did. Failure was something that you'd expect from some know-it-all Peridot, getting too big for her boots. Not her. Not the perfect Quartz. The perfect Quartz won any and every battle it was deployed in, shattered every enemy it faced. And, wasn't she the perfect Quartz? Didn't Homeworld call her a war hero? Didn't Yellow Diamond herself take her into her court while all the others of her Kindergarten get relegated to some dusty relic in space?

In a way, Jasper fell into her own legend. She had an idealised version of herself that she knew, subconsciously, that she could never truly be. This self-hatred drove out all of her positive traits, save for determination and reinforced her negative ones. It overshadowed her when Steven tried to help her, because accepting the help would make her weak and she despised being weak.

It's also the character niche that she fills too. Jasper was the first enemy that the Crystal Gems faced that didn't appear sympathetic on the surface. She was more directly involved in the plot than the Diamonds were for a long time, they were distant figures who had orchestrated the war. Now, here was an antagonist that worked on a more personal level by targeting “Rose” and “her” fellows directly.

Jasper despised weakness and when faced with the Crystal Gems in person, all she saw was weakness. A random Pearl that got it into her head that she was free to do whatever she liked while Jasper and everybody else followed orders. Some fusion between two Gems of completely different classes, outright heretical. This... malformed, tiny Quartz that came from the same place as her, could have been a functioning soldier like Jasper or worse, Jasper like her.

Even then she could shrug that off. They were clearly some rag-tag band of survivors from Homeworld's attack, they just got lucky. Have Peridot annihilate them with the ship and be done with it. But hey, at least Rose Quartz is dead, even if she didn't get the satisfaction of shattering her. Killing the last of the rebels was still closure, of a sort.

But as events unfolded, to Jasper, it seemed like Rose Quartz wasn't dead at all. Her greatest enemy, Homeworld's Most Wanted, Rose Quartz... was hiding behind her soldiers, in the body of and mimicking the simpering attitude of a human child.

Rose who she respected the tactics of. Rose who found a way to kill a perfect being. Now a weakling. These were the people that defeated Homeworld. Shattered a Diamond, her Diamond. These were the people that defeated her. But if they were so weak, wouldn't that make her even weaker?

No. That was impossible. She would prove it by taking them down, making them account for their crimes.

So, Jasper became obsessed with taking down the Crystal Gems by any means necessary. Anything she could justify to prove that she was the strongest, that she could think on her feet, that she was successful and everything that she was made to be.

Had you told the Jasper in “The Return” that she would be out in the Earth wilderness, trying to put together a motley crew of corrupted Gems in “Earthlings”, she'd have laughed you out of the room or killed you for even implying she could fall so low, fail so hard. But she could reason with herself that if her enemy was going to “cheat”, why shouldn't she?

Fusion went from a “Cheap tactic” to a viable weapon; Malachite gave her all the power in the world, if she could only use it. Rose Quartz had her misfit army, so Jasper forged her own, giving these lost individuals purpose again, just like she did. If it were her in the same situation, she would be grateful... except she wouldn't be in that situation because she was perfect.

Except she wasn't perfect. Jasper kept failing. In fact, that's all she ever seemed to do on the planet of her birth: fail. So, her loathing grew. She couldn't fail, so she would just try something else. Whatever it took.

And all those failings kept coming. Starting off by going against the orders to check on the Cluster in favour of carting Rose back to civilisation despite protests only got her ship destroyed and both her and Peridot marooned on a hostile planet. Garnet matched her and defeated her. Lapis trapped her in a fusion. Alexandrite defeated Malachite, Lapis refused her, she lost against Stevonnie despite having “backup” and trouncing Amethyst. Then, against Smoky Quartz, she met her downfall by fusing with one of the corrupted Gems, infecting her as well.

Jasper's hell was that most of it was a result of her failure to back down. She might not have deserved to be held by Lapis in Malachite, but she didn't exactly have many other people to blame for forming the massive Fusion when her sole objective was to murder the Crystal Gems. When she got control of Malachite, she went straight to murder. When they were separated, she went to Lapis so that she could get the power back that eliminated her weakness so that she could murder. She built an army to lead against the Crystal Gems because she wanted to murder them. She poofed Amethyst with the intent to shatter her. She fused with a corrupted monster because she wanted to murder Smoky Quartz.

Jasper had a spectacular talent of getting herself into messes because she can't let go of hatred and the need to cause harm. Granted, that is as a result of her attempt to heal her own wounds, prove to herself that she isn't a failure, but she's still trying to kill our protagonists and a lot of the time, laughing as she does it.

When, finally, Jasper is at her lowest, corrupting and abandoned by her feral army of monsters, she rejects Steven's help. Why should she accept it when she sees the truth of it all; that Rose Quartz manipulates the weak and abandoned Gems, giving them purpose again. Makes them all into bodies to put between her and the forces of Homeworld under the guise of love and caring.

To accept help is weak. She refuses to believe that she is weak, but at the same time, knows that she is. Jasper has struggled with that dichotomy for all of her existence and it kills her. She's trapped in her own logic. If she accepts help, then she proves herself to be a weakling. But if she fights against it, then that proves that she is strong. Strong enough not to break down or corrupt.

Ultimately, this attitude gets the character put on hiatus, poofed and bubbled. When we see her cured in Rose's Fountain at the end of the original series' run, she still hasn't learned the lesson. She has a moment of confusion at where she is, then she sees Steven. Crash Helmet activated, Jasper moves in to fight... then spots Yellow Diamond glancing at her out of the side of her eye. Sees Blue and even the mighty White Diamond sitting there in the water.

All around them, Gems she knew, Gems she didn't, Homeworld and Crystal Gems all talking and laughing and hugging and healing from this corruption. Even the Crystal Gem that she'd went out of her way to rile up the most, Amethyst, gently reassures her as the truth hits her.

Jasper was made for fighting and the fighting is over. It shakes her a lot. Suddenly, everything she's hated herself for is moot. She's left without a purpose.

When we see her in Future, time has passed and it's clear she's still struggling with the hatred, because all she has known through most of her existence was that hatred. It is a part of her. She's beginning to recover slowly, make a change, but she's not there yet.

In the time that's passed, we know things have changed a lot. Given how dismissive Amethyst is towards the concept of Jasper joining Little Homeschool, any attempt to connect with her fellow Quartz has been unsuccessful at best. Jasper is still turning down help.

When Steven wanders over, she begrudgingly explains that she's listless. The fighting is over, so all she has is to prepare for the next war, if there even is one. She still sees herself as something to be proud of, something to be held above others, so she removes herself from the other Gems and lives in solitude. Any organic life on her territory is eradicated with no mercy, even if it's a frustrating inconvenience.

And as Steven isn't Pink, she doesn't have to treat him like a Diamond, even if the others do (out of misunderstanding or genuine gratitude for saving them or simply making him synonymous with a Diamond). I get the view that she finds him insufferable or at the very least annoying, because now she's getting the “peace and love” speech in person every so often and can't really do anything about it.

After she bemoans that nobody is willing to fight her anymore, Steven calls her out on the fact that she has done this to herself. She keeps refusing help because she's too mired in her ways, too proud to let herself be “weak” again. Hence why she's living in a cave in the woods, only marginally better than when she was trying to recruit corrupted Gems to take down Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl.

Of course, Jasper blows this off and ignores him until Steven agrees to do the one thing she wants, just so he can get through to her. He'll fight her. It's like switch is flicked. Jasper expresses genuine happiness and anticipation. She can do what she's good at again! She can relive the glory days for this one moment! Prove to herself that she wasn't weak for losing in a fair fight for once!

And she loses. The fight is fair, it's really one on one as she'd requested, but she loses. That's because she slips into her old habits of dissecting what she sees as weakness and once again, it costs her the battle.

To her, Steven always had backup to take her down, so even now, with all his powers, he's still no match for the orange Gem. However, when Steven gets mad and goes pink he completely flattens her.

But the biggest difference in all of this is that even though she doesn't win the fight, like she believed she might have, Jasper succeeds in getting what she wanted and getting something else out of Steven. She wanted a good fight and got one. Even though he beats her, he's showing physical strength now, anger and annoyance... he's just as flawed as everybody else is. He challenged her to a fair fight and she lost that fair fight because he was the stronger opponent. No “tricks”, just brawling. How it was meant to work.

She even scolds him for apologising for knocking her around because she got to live again. When Steven asks Jasper to tutor him, to show him how to harness his aggressive feelings, good... gooooood, young Skywalker new powers, she does what the earlier Jasper would never do. She gets on his level and gently lets him down.

That's a huge step. She recognises that she can respect Steven, even slightly. Sure, she might not be into what he's selling most of the time, but she realised that there is some common ground for the two, just enough to engage with him for a moment. She's progressing.

So, in conclusion, what's the difference between their arcs? The Diamonds committed terrible crimes, but unlike Jasper, they seem to be taking steps to change and become better people by recognising that they've done wrong. When called out on how they treated Pink and the other Gems, they turned within the (admittedly hour long) episode. Blue Diamond tried to reason with Yellow, then both of them with White and finally, White. They had the will to change because they realised their actions had consequences and will, hopefully, be able to account in some way for the things they have done.

Jasper, on the other hand, doesn't have such grave crimes to account for, but for her, everything was much more personal, much more cerebral. She refused to give in because not only was she determined, but she was actively trying to thwart her own self-hatred by succeeding. Jasper didn't see what she did was wrong, I'm still unsure if she does now, but she's finally started on the path to healing now because she's finally found something of worth from a Crystal Gem, even if said Crystal Gem isn't in the healthiest place right now.

Speaking of, her remarks about Steven were pretty on point as we see later in Future. Steven is worried about everybody not needing him any more and he lashes out as a result. Maybe part or indeed a large chunk of Jasper's redemption will be seeing the same self-loathing she experienced grow in Steven and empathising with him and trying to help him, given that the seeds of respect were beginning to form between them. And hey, given her ability to diagnose psychological issues in a heartbeat, she might have a career in that later on, as unlikely as it sounds. Little Homeschool is always recruiting.

The fact is that while I believe that both the Diamonds and Jasper have a long way to go when it comes to redemption, either to account for the magnitude of their crimes for the former or to finally accept help from others, putting one's own demons to rest in the case of the latter, they've started off the whole process with Steven's help. It may be slow and difficult for them, but they have a chance to make themselves and by extension, their whole world, better.

And isn't that what Steven Universe is about?

#Steven Universe #this took a lot longer than I thought it would #surprisingly Jasper's part took longer to articulate than the Diamonds'#probably because I've had a chance to speak about them before with friends

6 notes · View notes