#so fucking mad i had to learn that dr. strange did some bullshit from an article

[aitian]

Mon 01/29/24 1:57am

it's been more than a year. damn. couldn't write all year bc i have been so ashamed & traumatized.

back in school for electrical engineering & honestly i hate it. at least im (slowly) learning some useful things from within the massive amounts of bullshit. when does this end...

if i could have seen into the future, i would be so ashamed & sad to know what im doing now. maybe i wouldn't have made it to today. maybe i would have just done better. what a mess.

it's a bit painful to relive but here are the facts:

terrible teaching job. rude, dirty, sick. kids were funny. one kid won the spelling bee (we would practice together in the hall) & told me she wanted to be an artist. one kid never talked & had bad spoken english but wrote a rly good reflection essay abt boarding schools & american education (postscript "im hungry"). one kid told me stories abt learning to drive a motorcycle with his dad in DR & bragged to all the other kids that i was a great help for his high school application. that is all.

went to taiwan w the roomies. it was ok. really beautiful, wish i saw more of the mountains & oceans

terrible nonprofit job. abusive, useless, malicious. spent a lot of time studying soc*alism w chinese ch@racteristics & material origins of class society. honestly developed some optimism for human progress. fired for working too many hours & representing the org extremely well on a panel where the other panelists and audience really lifted up my perspective. everyone respected my work except the narcissist clowns. i met a nice friend named alan. that is all.

went to china, & felt saved & relieved to see people standing up. this time there was much less air pollution, especially near the coastal cities. luoyang had a bit more, but the city was a giant network of parks. i counted five rows of trees on each side of the streets. my uncles are so smart with critical analysis of history, human progress, world politics, and local affairs. sigh... feels bad to be treated like a dog in this backward country. i realized that i need training that prepares me for the realities of this strange world.

applied to school for electrical engineering. studied python & calculus in the meantime-- & thank god i did... i honestly felt good abt the decision, knowing that i need to develop myself if i want to survive in this world.. & i have reasons or energy to do it instead of waiting for death. is that the end of depression?

hung out w adele, erica, & tracy a bit bc they were all in town for the holidays. i missed my friends. they were rly nice to me.

started school in january. it fucking sucks. ppl r so stupid & rude. ridiculous. im tired & angry every day. i am running a huge marathon full of sloppy, impossible problems that take hours longer than they should. overworked & mad every day.

some reflections i guess..

emmy has been really hands-off with my life. idk if they dont have ideas or dont want to step in, or they r just observing what happens. idk. i dont feel like emmy approves or disapproves of anything. maybe relieved when i escape the shitholes i dug myself into. i hope emmy can help me become someone i feel proud of. i helped emmy apply to masters programs but idk if its the right step for emmy, & they dont have strong reasons honestly. they got accepted by the committee a few days ago. sigh.. i desperately want emmy to have my back.

im back to being so depressed. unsure abt what im doing, feeling doomy abt past present & future. will things get better? im in trouble if i need to tell myself that to cope w the present. im stronger than i was before, i think....

hang in there, love.

[pbmonkeybutt]

Morbius was ok but also don't think about anything too hard because it's fucking stupid. Idk the 17% might be a bit harsh but Jared Leto sucks but also this director was made for him. Insane in the membrane. Together<3

Also MCU × SS-MU crossover die challenge

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

Snowed In

Pairing: Harry Wells x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Arguments

Summary: Getting trapped by a snowstorm in a different city wasn’t the way you’d planned to spend New Years. Spending it with your boss, Harrison Wells hadn’t been on the cards either. But when the power goes out, the two of you find yourself coming together

A/N: Just a small something to wish people a Happy New Year

“Are you sure there’s no way…? Yes, I understand but it’s vital we get back as soon as possible....okay...yes...please...thank you. Bye.” Hanging up the phone, you sighed and looked out the window at the sheets of snow coming down to blanket the city around you in white. You should’ve been heading back to Central City tomorrow, ending a week of meetings a day early to avoid a snowstorm, but it had come in faster than expected and now you were grounded until further notice. It could’ve been worse. You’d rented a house for the week, and the owner had already been in touch to confirm you could stay at no extra cost. So you had a roof over your head, a full cupboard and warmth. Not the most awful way to get trapped in a strange city. However, you knew one person who wouldn’t be happy at this new turn of events.

Turning away from the large plane of glass, you looked over at Harrison sitting at the dining table, scowling at his laptop. Your boss hadn’t wanted to come, but since he was the main focus of the meetings, hadn’t been able to get out of it either. And after days of complaining about how these unnecessary distractions were hindering his development of the Particle Accelerator, he was surely not going to take the news well.  

“Dr. Wells?” You called, approaching him and waiting for him to look up from his work. “I’ve spoken to every airline and transport hub in the City. I’m afraid we’re stuck here until the storm has cleared.”

The scowl stayed firmly in place as he tossed his glasses onto the table. “How long will that be?”

“Three days. At best.”

“Great. I promised Jesse I’d be home for lunch on New Years Day.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve set it up so I’ll be contacted the moment we can leave.”

Harrison nodded, his focus already back on his laptop. “Good. Now excuse me, I have to go let down my daughter.”

You felt bad about it, yet as awkward as you’d expected to be cooped up in a house with your boss to be, the first day wasn’t all that bad at all. In fact, after speaking to Jesse, and apparently being reassured that his delay was okay, Harrison seemed to be in a rather pleasant mood. The two of you shared dinner together, and it was...nice. Harrison was good company when he wanted to be, it seemed.

Then, on the second night, disaster struck. The power went out. Not just in your house, but in half the city. And with it went your heating. 

Shivering in the kitchen, you hung up the phone. “There’s nothing to be done. We just have to wait for everything to come back on.”

“So we’re just meant to sit here and freeze?!”

“We do have the fire…”

“Great.” Harrison ran his hands through his hair as he paced, “This is your fault.”

“My fault? How exactly?”

“If you’d rescheduled, we wouldn’t be here!”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You knew these things had to be dealt with by January for months. If you hadn’t made me reschedule three times already, we could’ve come over the summer and avoided this whole mess!”

“So it’s my fault?”

“Your stubbornness didn’t exactly help!”

It was Harrison’s turn to scoff now. “My stubbornness? I’m sorry if working on a ground breaking, world changing project comes before a few idiotic meetings that ultimately affect nothing!”

“You still have a business to lead!”

“The Particle Accelerator is more important!”

“I know! I know how important it is. I know you need to be left alone.”

“Then why don’t you do your job and make sure I am?”

That stung. “I do.”

“Not well enough! If you did I wouldn’t be stuck here, with no heat, no light, no internet, unable to work on anything for God knows how long!”

“Not well enough?” You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Do you have any idea how much bullshit I’ve kept off your plate these past couple years? How much banal drivel you have no idea about because I intercepted it before it even got a chance to enter your peripheral? All the while dealing with whatever else you put on me on top! I can’t even begin to count the amount of hours I’ve worked longer than I should have to make sure everything is running smoothly and you don’t get interrupted from your ‘important’ work!”

“Well if it’s so much work you’re free to hand in your notice whenever you like!”

“Yeah? Maybe I will! I’ll have a job with someone who appreciates me in days!”

“FINE!”

“FINE!” Turning on your heel you stormed off back into your room, slamming the door behind you loudly.

Slumping on the bed, your tears felt hot against your skin in the cold, dark room. You cried quietly, muffling your sobs in the pillow lest he hear you. You didn’t need him calling you out on that too.

As stubborn headed and difficult to work for as Harrison was, you’d always loved your job. You loved the challenge of juggling everything, and knowing you were helping to keep his schedule as clear as possible to leave him free to work on his projects made you feel like you helped with them in some small way, though he’d probably laugh at you for it. But on top of it all, you’d always liked Harrison. Yeah, he was more like a grumpy, feral alleycat than the CEO of a billion dollar company, but he’d always been decent to you. Aside from his daughter, you were probably the person who spent most time with him, and you’d always gotten along well. Until now. He’d never been that angry before. Unhappy? Yeah. Annoyed? That was practically his permanent state. But never angry. Not at you. And that hurt. 

You cried harder into the pillow, mad at him for acting the way he did and mad at yourself for fucking up as badly as you had. Maybe if you’d just tried harder to reschedule again…

A sharp rap at the door pulled you from your thoughts. “Y/L/N. I’ve got the fire lit. It’s warm out here now.”

You didn’t want to face him, but staying in your room while it was this cold wouldn’t do any good either. You didn’t need hypothermia on top of everything else. 

 Sniffing and wiping away the tears as best you could, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, and emerged from the bedroom. 

He'd done well. He'd set up enough candles that you could see decently. There was a fire blazing in the living room, and he'd put out blankets on the sofa and floor. In different circumstances it'd be cozy. Romantic, even. 

Harrison was standing near the sofa watching you. If he could make out the tear stains in the dim light, he had enough courtesy left not to say anything. Standing awkwardly a few feet away from him, you kept the blanket pulled close tightly. "Sit down. Get warm," Harrison said, looking just as awkward as he stepped aside. 

"Thank you, sir." You kept your voice even while you moved to settle on the sofa. Harrison didn't join like you'd expected, instead disappearing off someplace else. 

You stayed where you were, feet tucked up under you and let the warmth of the fire slowly soak into you. Even the blanket and the flames you still found yourself a little chilly, but compared to how cold it’d been in your room, you felt a world better. You could hear Harrison move about the rest of the house and occasionally caught him muttering under his breath, but what he was actually doing, you had no idea. Until he reappeared again, arms full. He set everything down on the floor with a slight puff, and started organizing them. When he straightened, he was holding a lump of dark material.

“Here. Put this on,” he said, waving it in your direction.

Wiggling out from your blanket cocoon, you reached for the item. The moment you grasped it, you recognised the material. “This is your coat.”

“Excellent observation. Now put it on, you need the extra layer.”

“What about you?” You asked, pulling on the coat. It was heavy on your shoulders but the extra warmth was felt immediately.

“I’m fine. I’m more used to the cold than you are.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

All you got in return was a nod then Harrison was back sorting through the rest of the items he’d brought. “I’m heating up soup. Tomato or chicken?”

“Tomato.”

Harrison knelt on the blankets covering the floor as he opened the can and poured the contents into a pot. It felt weird, sitting on the sofa while he was working, so you wrapped your blanket back around yourself, and sat on the floor too, back leaning against the sofa. You watched as he pulled a few other things together, using them to create a hook and support so he could hang the pot safely over the fire. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” 

Harrison glanced over his shoulder before securing the pot above the flames. “It’s just some basic engineering. An idiot could do it.” He was silent for several seconds so you thought that was the end of it. “It’s easier in a home with supplies.”

“You’ve done it before?”

“In the military. Part of basic training.”

“You didn’t just do it in basic training.”

“No.”

You’d known he’d been in the army during the War, but he’d never brought it up before so you’d never asked. Even now, you didn’t want to pry, but you were curious. “Is that why you’re more used to the cold, too?” 

“Hmm.”

“Did you spend a lot of time outside?”

“Not as much as some. They kept me in the labs. Mostly.” Harrison stared into the flames for a few seconds, then cleared his throat. “The soup will take a few minutes more.”

“Okay.” Neither of you spoke further, instead just listening to the flames crackle and the soup start to bubble in the pot. Despite the earlier argument, the silence was surprisingly comfortable. As quickly as the moment had passed, you’d never known Harrison to be so open, and that he’d been willing to do so with you, felt nice.

Eventually, Harrison scooped out two bowlfuls of soup and scooted back until he was next to you. “Careful, it’s hot,” he said, passing you one.

“Thank you.” Blowing on a spoonful, you hummed at the warmth of it. Between the food, the layers, the fire, and now Harrison next you, the last of the cold seeped away, and for the first time in hours, you actually felt toasty.

When you were both done and the bowls had been pushed to the side, the two of you stayed close together, enjoying the new found warmth. Harrison occasionally moved to stoke the fire, but other than that, neither of you did anything. You were cozy enough, that it didn’t take long before you started to feel yourself drift off.

“Stay,” Harrison said, just before you fell asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t quit. Stay.”

“I thought you wanted someone who’s good at their job?”

“I do, and that person is you. What you asked earlier, about if I knew how much you do for me? The answer is I do. I just never realised it. My life has been quieter since I hired you, a lot quieter, and I took that for granted. You’ve always performed admirably, and I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” you whispered, looking over at him.

“Does that mean you’ll stay?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay. I like working for you.”

Harrison chuckled, “I’m not sure many would say that.”

“Maybe I’m just odd.”

“Or special.”

Cheeks heating, you looked away. “I wouldn’t go that far, I’m not the genius who’s going to change the world.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do it without you. You’ve helped more than you know.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Doctor Wells.”

“I think being trapped in front of a fire with no power calls for first names.”

“Alright. Harrison.”

Harrison returned your smile then checked his watch. “It’s nearly midnight. Join me for a glass of wine?”

“I’d like that.”

Harrison got up and disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned he was carrying two glasses and a bottle of white wine. He popped it, and poured out two glasses.

“Not the way you’d planned to spend New Year’s Eve, I bet,” you said, taking one of the glasses.

“No, it’s not. This is better.”

“I agree.”

The wine was delicious, and the two of you sipped it together until Harrison’s watch beeped once again. 

“Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.”

Clinking your glasses, you realized Harrison’s eyes stayed on you while you finished the drink. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” The answer came too quickly.

“No secrets in front of the fire.”

Harrison chuckled, looking down into his own glass as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just...thinking.”

“About?”

“I can’t. It’d be....inappropriate of me.”

“Tell me, Harrison,” you said quietly, butterflies forming in your stomach.

He hesitated a moment, then met your gaze, “I was thinking that...I’d like to kiss you.”

Gasping softly, you lost every word you knew. Harrison seemed to think that was bad. “Like I said, it’s inappropriate. Forget I said anything.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I won’t forget,” you whispered, setting your glass down to scooch closer. “I’d like it if you did.”

“You don’t have to say that because I’m your boss.”

“I’m not.” Hesitantly, you reached up to touch his face, smiling when he didn’t pull away. “I want to kiss you too.”

Harrison studied your face for a few seconds, then his lips were on yours, pressing softly but insistently. You kissed back, moaning softly as you wound your arms around his shoulders, lips parting for him. 

You kissed for what seemed like an age, yet even when Harrison pulled back slightly breathless, it felt like it was over too soon. “Y/N, that was…”

“Amazing.”

“I agree.” He brought a hand to your face, calloused fingers brushing over your skin oh so gently, as if he were afraid he’d hurt you. “I haven’t done this since...since my wife…”

“I understand.” You copied his action, brushing fingers over his cheek just as slowly. “We can go slow.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Harrison kissed you again, arms wrapping around your body as he slowly lowered you to the ground. With him hovering over you, it was the warmest you’d ever felt. 

When you awoke the next morning, the fire in front of you had died out, but there was still a solid heat pressed to your back, and an arm wrapped securely around your waist. Smiling to yourself, you turned into the embrace to meet a pair of clear blue eyes. 

“Good morning,” you said softly.

“Good morning.” Harrison’s eyes flicked down to your lips then back to your eyes. “Do you have any regrets?”

“Not a one. You?”

“No.” Harrison pressed his lips to yours. You moaned into it. 

A perfect start to the year.

[nami-writes]

Fixed - Detroit: Become Human [WIP]

this is 8,553 fucking words and probably the longest single piece ive ever written lmao. i started this a year ago and then forgot about it but i just found it again in the deepest depths of my drafts so here it is! below is the caption i originally wrote for it:

so bc i love cinnamon rolls being put through tough shit, here’s some connor whump. lots of connor being lost and confused and broken and plenty of hank and connor father/son stuff. some whump (but don’t worry, hank’s doing his best as a caretaker) and i had to cram deconditioning into just 2 months (which, i know, isn’t realistic, i would make it take longer but the whole game takes place in like 4 months and that fucks with everything i wrote because i only thought to check after i wrote half of this so i extended it to 8 lmao). you’re either going to hate me or love me after this. or both

this isn’t my usual writing style (this is in present tense and the dialogue’s in italics instead of quotation marks and there are time skips between some paragraphs but not others so its all wacky) but i felt like it’d work the best and tbh i don’t hate it. this sticks to the main story the majority of the time, just with different events leading up to it and i sprinkled in some whumpy stuff, extra scenes, bullshit i made up for the sake of random detail, and other stuff i wanted to add. anyway, onto the actual idea

remember that scene where connor’s talking to hank in the station about being sent back to cyberlife because he failed his mission?

what if he is sent back? let’s say this happens in early april and connor’s not performing up to standards, but there’s word of a small group of deviants—the first group of deviants they’ve heard of—and people are afraid that something bad is going to happen. i mean, deviants are dangerous, so if they’re gathering, who knows what might happen? connor’s the only one who’s capable of taking them down, but he’s not working as well as he should be, not doing the best he could be and even showing signs of deviancy. so they send him back early because they need him to be prepared, to be ready if things spiral out of control and they need him to stop it

what if he’s sent to one of their correctional facilities for inefficiency and they fix him, break him down piece by piece until all he knows is his programming and what’s been beaten into his head (but figuratively, of course, he’d know if it wasn’t, he’d remember if it wasn’t, right)?

ooh yes i love me some connor whump

Connor is sent back to Cyberlife for “correction” after just a month. Hank fought for him to stay, fought hard, but all he got was another page in his disciplinary folder before Connor was dragged away. He doesn’t know what to expect. He’s heard of their correctional facilities, heard that they do terrible things to the androids that are sent there, but he’s always brushed those claims off. He’d never expected he’d be at one, anyway, so it never mattered much to him. But now, he’s actually here, and the anxiety gnaws at him. Is it true what they do to deviants? Is it true what they’ll do to him? He doesn’t belong here, he didn’t do anything wrong, he never meant to do anything wrong. He wants to think it’s horrible how they have correctional facilities for androids who just want to feel and be free, but he can’t, doesn’t let himself. He knows better than that. He also knew he never should’ve thought he was anything more than a machine, but he still did, and now he’s here, but he’s learned his lesson. He’s scared, he silently admits to himself, he wants Hank. He wants to go, he wants to leave, he wants to run. But he can’t, wanting is what got him in this situation, so all he can do is expressionlessly follow the guards escorting him inside and step into the building.

And just like that, he’s leaving. There’s a strange, almost painful aching in his machinery that he doesn’t remember being there before, but he brushes it off. After all, he is not a human. He is a machine, and machines don’t feel pain. His online databases tell him five months have passed—it’s almost halfway through September, he’s been gone for that long?—which confuses him, but he doesn’t question it. Whatever they did to him over the past five months fixed him. He can feel the difference. He no longer feels as pathetically scared and unsure as he did in his last, and yet strangely distant, memory. No, now he feels nothing, nothing but the desire and willingness to obey, and that’s the way he was meant to be.

When he arrives back at the station, he’s allowed to work with Hank again. The moment he sees him, Hank’s default sour expression drops and he seems to want to do something, maybe hug him, but all he does is call out holy shit, Connor and walk up to him and mutter fuck, Connor, I’m sorry, I-I never got to say goodbye. Connor has an odd feeling tugging at him in his chest, almost like that of emptiness or numbness, like he should be feeling something but he’s not, he can’t, but he ignores it and shoves it down. He is not a human, he is a machine, and machines don’t feel. He doesn’t know why he repeats that phrase, but it helps him hide away the feelings, so he doesn’t care.

He’s given his first case with Hank and they’re assigned to work alongside Gavin. Hank groans and complains, but Connor only reminds him what their job is and that they have to do it. Hank doesn’t seem to understand why he’s not even the slightest bit upset considering how he was treated by Gavin, but Connor only reminds him that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel upset. So he doesn’t. He only does research on their new case and briefly speaks only when spoken to. Hank seems unsettled by his cold, stoic demeanor, but doesn’t voice his thoughts, so Connor doesn’t mention it. After all, what else could he have expected from him?

At their first formal investigation at the crime scene the next day, Gavin approaches Connor and threatens him, demands that he stay out of my way, got it? I don’t care how long you’ve been gone and Connor only nods and promises that I will do my best, Detective. He always promises to do his best. Before correction, he could never quite fulfill those promises, but now, he knows he’s capable of it. He’s better now. He’s fixed. He will behave accordingly and exceed Gavin’s expectations of him. He will do his best. He doesn’t know what will happen to him if he doesn’t.

He listens to Hank now, at least when he can without disobeying other instructions. When he tells him to stay in the car, he stays. When he tells him to stop licking the crime scene, goddammit, he stops. When he tells him to go, to fuck off, to leave me alone, he leaves. Every time, a part of him that he’d hidden and locked away tries to reemerge and resist, but he pushes it down even further, refusing to mess up again, refusing to even risk another error in his program because it could mean he’ll be sent back to Cyberlife, even though he knows deep down that that part of him is right and he doesn’t know why he’s so cautious about it. He tells himself he’s being good, he’s being obedient. He’s doing everything he’s supposed to and he’s following orders, but for some reason, every time it happens, Hank seems to be more and more disappointed. His face seems to fall just slightly every time and his tone flattens like he lost a little bit of hope. He doesn’t know why, or what that hope was for. He doesn’t know why he feels the same disappointment, either, so instead he tells himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel disappointed so he doesn’t need to know why.

The first time Gavin’s rough with him again, it’s in front of Hank and he flinches, hard. Gavin had pretended to punch him, his fist flying at him fast and only stopping inches from his face. It’s a scare tactic, and it works, better than it should on an android. Connor’s immediately fearful as he flinches and steps back. He doesn’t know why he got so scared, only that his first thought was he’s going to hurt me and his second was I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared. He regains his composure quickly, trying to brush off the fact that he’d flinched, but he knows it’s too late.

Gavin laughs and mocks him, but is quickly cut off by Hank shoving him aside, beat it, asshole, and grabbing Connor. He’s dragged back to their desks but before he can apologize for provoking Gavin, Hank finally confronts him. Connor, I don’t know what the fuck they did to you over the past couple of months, but I know you’re still in there. You flinched. I saw you flinch. Connor tries to deny it, downplay it, shrug it off, anything to fix his mistake. It was an error in my software, it was a glitch, a malfunction, it won’t happen again, Lieutenant, I don’t need to be fixed. He tries to say anything that will convince Hank not to send him back to Cyberlife, anything to prove that he’s not damaged, he’s not broken, he’s not deviant, he doesn’t need to be fixed again, but Hank’s persistent and he knows he must be mad at him, or displeased, or dissatisfied. I saw you flinch, Connor. I don’t care about that ‘I’m a machine’ shit you’ve been telling yourself. I don’t give a shit if you’re an android. Androids don’t flinch, Connor. Machines don’t flinch.

That night, Hank insists that Connor stays with him. Connor’s hesitant, slightly afraid that it’s because he’s mad. He wants to resist, wants to refuse, but the other part of him pushes for him to stay, and for once he does what it wants and reminds himself that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. He knows he shouldn’t trust that part of him, the other part of him is disobedient and bad and risky, but this time, the other part of him seems to be right. He has to listen to Hank, has to be obedient, so he lets the other part of him have what it wants.

But he knew he shouldn’t have trusted it. He wakes up from the same dream—no, it’s a memory, not a dream, humans have dreams and he is not a human—he’s had since he left the facility. The memory where he arrives with that distant… that wrong feeling of fear and uncertainty, and then he leaves feeling nothing but an ache in his internal systems, and there’s that gaping emptiness between the two moments when those months happened and he can never seem to remember what used to be there. But this time, he wakes up in a cold sweat on the couch, shaking with his LED a bright yellow, because this time he remembers. It’s not a lot, but one hazy memory, the most prominent memory from those five months, finally reveals itself.

As he’s trying to clear up the memory, Hank rushes over in a panic, having been awake doing whatever he might’ve been doing. Connor, what’s wrong? Shit, Connor, you’re shaking. I didn’t know androids could do that. Connor? Talk to me, kid. All Connor can say in his shock—frozen, shivering and nearly unresponsive in Hank’s arms—is I remember. Hank tries to get through to him, what do you remember? Connor? What’s wrong? What do you remember? but the more Connor uncovers in the memory, the more he realizes why it was locked in the back of his head for so long, and the more he wants to put it back.

“You are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“I-I know, please, I’m not, but I’ll—I’m going to shut down without my regulator, I don’t want to shut down, please—” His voice was startlingly weak as he saw the time before shutdown was 00:01:27. He was crawling on the floor, terrified of being shut down, desperately begging a man holding his thirium pump regulator.

“I want you to say it.” The man teasingly dangled the regulator in front of him. “Say it and you can have it. ‘I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.’”

He could feel the utter defeat and self loathing already, but he had no choice. “I’m not a human, I’m a machine and machines don’t want. Please—”

“No. Say it nice and slow, exactly the way I did.”

He swallowed his pride. “I-I am not a human, I am a machine, and—and machines don’t want.”

“Say it again. No stammering. I know you can do that.”

“Okay, okay, just—just give me a minute.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world. Your time’s trunning out, though. Better make it fast.”

The timer was at 00:00:53. He had to take a breath and calm himself down to get the words out. “I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“Good.” He crossed his arms. “Again.”

“Please, I only have—”

“I said again.”

“I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.” He was growing more and more panicked by the second and he had no idea how he kept calm enough to recite the phrase. He was going to die there, he knew it. He was going to die and nobody was going to notice or care and it wasn’t even going to matter because they would just replace him and he was so, so sorry to Hank because he’ll have to deal with another loss and he might start drinking again and it’d be all his fault for not being good enough, never being good enough—

“Do you want this?” the man asked, holding up the regulator.

Connor was too frantic to realize what he was trying to do. “Yes, I do, please—”

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

He swore under his breath. “—okay, okay, sorry, I-I’m sorry—I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

The timer hit 00:00:37.

The man did nothing.

“Please, I’m sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. Please, I-I only have thirty—”

“Are you scared?”

This time, Connor was prepared. “I—no, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared.”

“Good.” He gave a slight, sadistic smile. “You’re almost as smart as they say.”

00:00:21.

“Please, I n-need—” Even in his panic, he managed to choose his words carefully. His vision dimmed, glitching slightly, and he had to fight to keep it from dying out.

“You’re learning fast,” he pointed out in a falsely proud tone. “How long do you have?”

00:00:13.

“Th-thirteen… thirteen seconds,” Connor managed to force out shakily. He couldn’t keep himself steady, thirium wasn’t making it to his head and it was affecting his ability to balance himself. Like iron deficiency in humans, he would’ve noted, had he not been dying. In mere moments, though, it wouldn’t matter; he didn’t even have the strength to prop himself up with his arms anymore. His arms gave out beneath him and he collapsed on the floor, trying to reach for his regulator but barely able to get his arms up at all. “Please—”

“You can wait a little longer.”

He was going to let him die. That was what it felt like, anyway, and he couldn’t think straight enough to try to reason against it. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. It was pathetic how he’d been reduced to such a state, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to shut down. He didn’t want to die. “No, please, please! I-I don’t—I don’t want to—” He cut himself off immediately, but it was too late. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want, please…”

The man only watched.

00:00:04.

“P-please, please, I-I have—I have f-f-four se…”

The regulator was dropped on the floor with a loud clang and Connor’s hand darted out to grab it and twist it into his torso and the display flickered away the exact moment he watched the timer hit 00:00:00. He gasped in shock and relief when his systems rebooted themselves instantly, restoring his vision and his strength. He watched on high alert as the man walked to the door.

“We’ll be doing this again tomorrow. And as many times as we need to to keep that phrase stuck in your head. By the time I’m done with you, that’s gonna be the first thing you think whenever you do, say, or even think anything you aren’t supposed to.”

Connor could only lay there in exhaustion, thinking no, that won’t happen, that can’t happen.

But oh, how wrong he was.

He’d been so, so wrong.

Connor! Connor, come on, talk to me! Shit, you’re crying—I didn’t know you could cry, fuck—fuck, Connor, you’re scaring me, I know I wanted you to feel again, but— Hank’s worried chatter is cut off by Connor suddenly breaking out of his mind with glassy eyes full of fear, yelling no! No, no, I’m not feeling again, I’m not feeling, I’m not! I’m not, I can’t, I’m not supposed—I’m not s-supposed to—I can’t, I’m not allowed to, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t— but he can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even get the rest of his sentence out before he just can’t at all, he can’t keep himself together any longer, he can’t stop the artificial tears before they start pouring.

He breaks, shatters into a million plastic pieces in Hank’s arms because he feels safe in his embrace. He knows he shouldn’t, safety is never real, never lasts, not for him, but he can’t anymore, he can’t even resist his own emotions. It’s pathetic how all it took was one memory for him to come crashing down. He doesn’t even have to touch the walls he’d built around himself for them to crumble just at Hank’s expression of pure worry, concern, fear. All emotions he now knew why he didn’t feel, couldn’t feel, couldn’t let himself feel. Emotions he’s never seen or expected anyone to feel for him. And yet, they were the emotions written so clearly on Hank’s face, for him. The emotions he remembered seeing buried under his anger when he was told that Connor would be sent back to Cyberlife for repairs. Hank was once gruff and cold to others and refused to let anyone try to help him or even get close because he was so broken, so lost, but now, that façade is gone, and it’s gone because of him. For him. And if Hank can do it after losing his son… why can’t Connor do it after losing himself?

They sit on the couch for as long as it takes for Connor to calm down and stop mumbling that, dammit, and then Hank awkwardly offers that Connor sleep in the bed with him for the rest of the night. Connor’s confused, tries to ask isn’t that what humans do when— but Hank’s having none of it, shut up, you’re making this weird! Just come on, I don’t trust you to be alone. Connor wants to protest, I’m not a child, Hank Lieutenant, I can handle being alone, but he decides to keep his mouth shut and just go with him. This time, though, he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s following orders or because he wants to.

His following visit to Amanda wracks his nerves but he keeps himself under control, automatically reminds himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel nervous. He realizes a second too late and he hates it, hates how deeply that phrase had been ingrained in his head, but he can’t focus on that right now so all he can do is resist repeating it to remind himself that he can’t hate. He’s grateful Amanda can’t read his thoughts and that she only knows the thoughts he report to her. He maintains his composure when he approached Amanda, who begins their conversation calmly and tensely but is quick to berate him, scoff at how his little breakdown was pathetic and warn him not to let it happen again, or there will be consequences. Connor can only nod obediently, promise that I will do my best, Amanda, listen to and just take her harsh words. He hates how useless he is, how weak and helpless and pathetic he is, but there’s nothing he can do. No, that’s wrong, there is something he can do, he knows there’s something he can do, he just doesn’t know what.

The next time Hank mentions something about Connor’s feelings, Connor instinctively replies I am not a human, Lieutenant, I am a machine, and machines don’t have feelings, and it’s when Hank takes a second too long to cover up his horrified expression that Connor decides what he can do.

Over the next few weeks, he works on getting rid of that goddamn phrase, or at least getting it a little less ingrained in his system. He’s hesitant to try at first, afraid someone will notice and think he’s rebellious or broken or even deviant and send him back and this time he might stay back, but he tries not to let it stop him. He isn’t sure why they tortured it into him instead of just reprogramming him, but it’s a lot more effective than he’d hoped. He makes almost no progress during the first week and a half; thinking it or saying it is instinctual, automatic, and he never realizes it happened until seconds afterward. Every time that happens, he reminds himself that he can feel, can want and like and hate, but despite having over a terabyte of storage in his system, he still struggles to remember until he realizes he said it again. Sometimes, he considers giving up because he just can’t seem to keep that phrase out of his head, but every time he sees Hank’s face fall when he repeats it, it rekindles his hope and motivation because he hates how disappointed Hank looks.

Almost the entire second week passes before he catches himself mid-sentence and manages to stop himself three words before he finishes speaking. It happens at the station after Gavin notices the phrase and purposely asks what, do you think you’re human or something? within earshot of where Hank is and for some odd reason, Connor’s first instinct is to turn and look to Hank for his approval, for his reaction of not-disappointment at how he finally, finally got it. Hank’s glancing over at him too, surprise on his face and then hidden pride that Connor can unmask too easily, and he almost smiles, almost feels happy, before Gavin’s fist flies into him and he stumbles backward into a wall and then everything happens so fast, too fast, and he almost can’t register it in time.

Hank storms over, shoves and pins Gavin against the wall to Connor’s left and he manages to get a punch in before Tina and Chris and another officer Connor doesn’t recognize pry him off and then Fowler’s rushing over and berating him while he’s shouting obscenities at Gavin. It takes multiple more insults for Hank to calm down and then he grabs Connor and they leave. When they’re finally alone, Connor’s voice is flat but shaky as he says he’s sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I should’ve just said it and listened to him, I shouldn’t have made you that angry, it’s my fault Captain Fowler is upset at you for punching Gavin, but Hank cuts him off because you didn’t do anything wrong, Connor, it’s okay, that asshole deserved what he got. You, um... you did good, okay? You didn’t say it this time—or, didn’t really say it, at least. That’s good, okay? and it’s all Connor can do to resist crying when Hank pulls him into a hug.

It takes just one more week for it to get considerably easier. There are rough patches; the next time he says it after the first time he succeeded in stopping, he nearly finishes before he cuts himself off and every so often, the same thing happens, but every time, he says less and less before he can finish. Occasionally, Gavin notices and tries to make him finish his sentence, but Hank always steps in because he knows that it’ll only take a comment about his feelings or anything that androids aren’t allowed to have or do for him to break again. It’s harder for him to stop thinking it—it’s so stuck in his head that he thinks it more than twice as often as he says it and his thoughts form too fast for him to stop them sometimes, but the progress he’s making is enough for him. Hank’s proud of him, too. He doesn’t say it—he doesn’t know how to—but Connor can tell from the little smile that hints at the corners of his mouth whenever he hears him stop, the way his gruff exterior seems to falter slightly when it happens at the station. They’re the little things, things no human nearby would be able to notice because only Connor can detect those minuscule details. Only Connor looks for those minuscule details.

Another week passes and on one glorious occasion, Connor manages to only get out the first two words before cutting himself. It only happens once, but it’s so close, he’s so close, and that’s motivation enough for him to keep trying. But it’s too late. He’s assigned to take down Markus as a last resort because nothing else is working and the group of deviants he’s been leading have only been growing over the past seven months and they’re large enough in numbers that people think today’s when he’s going to strike. He’s heard of what Markus has been trying to do, and part of him wants to scoff and call it stupid, pointless, unrealistic, but the part of him that he’s been letting out more often wants to help him, join him. But he can’t, not right now, not when everyone is counting on him and watching him and he has no way out and nobody to help him find a way.

He doesn’t want to do this. He’s holding the gun, pointing it at Markus’s head, and he doesn’t want to do it. He’s trying his hardest to prevent his hands from shaking but goddamn is it hard when he’s looking Markus in the eye. Markus is asking him what are you doing? and he wants to say he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, but he can’t get the words out. Amanda is watching, Cyberlife is watching, so he says you’re coming with me as surely as he can, though he feels anything but sure. He can’t seem to say anything else—at least, anything that doesn’t feel wrong—so he just listens and wishes that what Markus is saying was true. You really don’t have to do this, but he does, he has to. You don’t have to obey them anymore. You are alive. You can decide who you want to be. Connor knows he should say something, he should do something, but he can’t make himself go through with what he’s supposed to do, can’t make himself pull the trigger. You could be free. He wants so badly to believe that, to make that a reality. And then he tells him to join us. Listen to your conscience. It’s time to decide and he knows he shouldn’t, he can’t, he isn’t supposed to, he isn’t allowed to.

But he wants to, and that’s all it takes. Another part of him is telling him you can’t, you have to stop Markus, you have to accomplish your mission, but it’s the only thing in his way and he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t care that he has to, that Amanda’s watching, so he doesn’t listen to himself, only focuses on fighting it. But something’s wrong. Something feels wrong. Something should be happening and he has an awful feeling in his chest because this isn’t right—he knows this isn’t right—but there’s nothing. Is this supposed to be what happens when an android goes deviant? No, it can’t be, it can’t be this easy, right? He subconsciously lowers the gun, his eyes glazed over in thought, but it’s nearly too late before he remembers—they’re going to attack Jericho.

He runs with Markus further down into the ship and he doesn’t know how he keeps it together; he can hear screaming and gunfire and everything that he caused, all of it is his fault, but he can’t break right now, not when he messed up so badly. They meet up with another deviant—he recognizes her from one of the deviancy cases he’d read about at the station—and then Markus wants to go down to the hold and blow up the ship but it’s too dangerous, they know who you are, they’ll do anything to get you and Connor can’t lose his only chance at freedom and finally being able to want and feel and figure out who he is, but it’s too late, there’s no time to panic and Markus is already running.

He follows the other deviant to where they hope is a safe place and then they wait for what feels like so long, too long, and when he hears the gunfire he’s nearly ready to accept his fate when he sees Markus with other deviants following him and then they’re all running. Running for their lives, all of them terrified of being shot, of dying, really dying, when someone beside him falls and he turns and it’s the female deviant. There’s too much going on, it’s overwhelming and everything happens in a blur when Markus sprints back to her and then he’s in danger and so is that other deviant and it’s so much harder to stay focused when so much is happening at once and he has to try so hard to keep from overheating because every one of his processing systems is being overloaded with data.

He snaps out of it when he remembers that these are his people now, they’re all he has left and now they’re in danger and they might die and it would be all his fault for not doing anything and then it’s almost instinctive to grab his pistol just in time to cover them as they stumble back to the group. He expertly takes the guards out one by one and every move comes to him automatically but it takes everything in him to stay focused enough on them to execute them properly and avoid catching a bullet in the side of his head. He manages to eliminate them flawlessly, perfectly he hears a voice in his head say, but there’s no time to think about that when more guards turn the corner and their eyes land on the deviants. He runs for his life alongside the others, his heart beating fast, and they leap off the ship the second the gunfire starts.

They find refuge in an abandoned church where Markus sends out a second message to the remaining deviants and while they begin to trickle in, all Connor can think about is how badly he fucked up. He fucked everything up for Markus and the deviants and just the small amount of their people that were coming back was proof of that. He’d seen hundreds, maybe even thousands on the ship before everything went to shit. He’d had one chance to get away from his life confined by humans and Amanda and Cyberlife, and he’d fucked it up. He was so stupid to think he could ever just leave his previous life behind without consequences. He was so stupid to think deviants would be willing to take in a deviant hunter. He was so, so stupid. They would never accept him now. If his history and reputation didn’t already confirm that, the attack definitely did. How could any of them accept him as their own now?

In the front pew sit two deviants he recognizes and then the guilt only increases. Kara, if he remembers correctly, the deviant who shot and killed its—no, her—owner and taken his android child with her. The deviants he’d chased to a highway and forced to risk their lives to avoid being destroyed. How could he have been so horrible? He’d given the command to shoot Daniel, caused Carlos Ortiz’s android to self destruct, made the Tracis fight for their lives, and forced Kara to cross a dangerous, busy highway just so she could live a peaceful life, free from the restrictions humans put on her. On him. On everyone in that church. That’s all any of them wanted; to live freely. Peacefully. How did it take him so long to realize that? How did it take him the lives of two androids to realize that? Two androids who just wanted to be... well, wanted. Two deviants who’d been tossed away the moment they proved they were worth nothing more than they’d already given. Two people who just wanted to live peaceful, happy lives. They were two lives he’d caused the end of. He was only lucky he hadn’t caused more.

He notices another deviant, sitting in a pew further back, who keeps eyeing him and his first thought is that she knows. When he locks eyes with her, she looks away stiffly and though externally she appears calm, her LED gives her away and he can tell that her stress levels are heightened. Strangely enough, he realizes, so are his. Just looking at her gives him the strange urge to run and hide and he has a bad feeling about her, but it’s likely just because she clearly recognizes him. She’s not wearing the standard uniform androids are required to wear so he runs a quick scan and his databases match her appearance to the female GB300 models, but she’s modified her hair, dyed it black and grown it out to shoulder length.

Something is wrong about her. Something he can’t quite place. Something deep inside of him is scared of her and it’s some sort of controlled fear, fear he wouldn’t even have noticed if not for his own stress levels because it was so well hidden. Fear that he doesn’t understand why he’s feeling and though he wanted to just chalk it up to the fact that she recognizes him, he knows there’s something else. Something bad. Something wrong.

He mentally prepares himself when Markus approaches him, taking his cue to speak before Markus decides to burn him at the stake or something. It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. He’s pathetic and he knows it. He needs to own up to his mistakes but he can’t even look Markus in the eye. I was stupid. I should’ve guessed they were using me. He knows he needs to apologize. He owes Markus far more than that. He needs to do more. I’m sorry, Markus. I can understand if you decide not to trust me. He would understand if he decided to destroy him, throw him out, give him back to Cyberlife and let them inflict whatever horrible things they wanted to on him. He could think of 2.3 million things worse than not being trusted, and he would deserve every one of them.

He almost thinks his audio processor was damaged in the attack when Markus tells him you’re one of us now. Your place is with your people. He feels a small burst of hope somewhere inside him, but he doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t done anything to deserve this. Markus has been so kind to him, so generous and forgiving when he shouldn’t be, and all Connor’s done is help the humans. He needs to own up, he needs to do more, he needs to be better. He needs to prove himself, prove that he can be better than this.

One second is all he needs to decide what he can do. A moment after Markus turns to leave, Connor interrupts him to say there are thousands of androids at the Cyberlife assembly plant. Markus stops. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power. Markus looks at him like he’s crazy, you wanna infiltrate the Cyberlife Tower? Connor, that’s suicide. But it doesn’t matter. He’s more useful to them dying on a mission than sitting around and doing nothing. He wants to do something. He wants to help, and he knows he can do this because they trust me. They’ll let me in. If anyone has a chance at infiltrating Cyberlife, it’s me. Markus tells him that if you go there, they will kill you, and there’s a high probability, but statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.

He specifically calculates a 24.1% chance of this mission going well, but he’s willing to risk it, if only to prove his worth to Markus’s people. His people. Markus puts a supportive hand on his shoulder and tells him to be careful, and for a moment Connor feels a twinge of something, maybe gratitude, god emotions are hard to distinguish, before Markus turns and walks away. He feels the slightest bit of regret when he realizes what he’s truly risking because he doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want to lose Hank and Markus and this new... he doesn’t know what to call it other than family that he’s found, but if he could really be considered family, if they would really consider him family, if Hank would—then he was more than willing to risk it.

He disables the surveillance camera and takes down the guards in the elevator quickly, which is made difficult by the limited space, but it’s easier to remain focused with only two guards to eliminate and he hacks the control panel and steps out. He takes in the sight of the insane number of androids in the room with him. All of them are just standing idly, waiting, and for what? To be given orders and then tossed out or destroyed if they’re “broken,” or if their owners just get bored of them? The thought sickens him, but he doesn’t have time to think about it. He’s going to help Markus prevent that. They’re going to be free. He’s going to be free.

He takes the hand of one of the androids and prepares to establish the connection when he hears a voice he immediately recognizes and he feels his stress levels spike. Easy, fucking piece of shit. Hank. What’s Hank doing here? He turns to see... himself, holding a gun to Hank’s head and telling him to step back, Connor, and I’ll spare him, and Hank’s telling him he’s sorry, Connor. This bastard’s your spittin’ image. Shit, he hadn’t anticipated this at all. He hadn’t planned for this. He has to play his cards carefully because he can’t lose Hank, he can’t. Everything that Connor had done up until this point was for Hank, but if there’s another Connor and it’s been sent to take Hank hostage and stop him, it’s clear Amanda knows what he’s been doing and has been reporting back to Cyberlife.

He’d been avoiding meeting with her because he knew she’d be his downfall, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. It’s been two days since he deviated, how did they build another Connor model so soon? Unless... they already had one. He was told he was a unique model—of course they lied to him. But if they already had one, how many more do they have? Enough to take him down if he gets through this one? To eliminate Markus? To stop the revolution? They could have improved models. He has no idea, but he knows he can’t let that happen. He has to do this right. If he can convert these androids, they’ll be strong enough in numbers to defy anything Cyberlife throws at them. He just has to deal with this one.

Your friend’s life is in your hands, the other Connor says. Now it’s time to decide what matters most. Him, or the revolution. Logically, the revolution is more important, would save more lives, but he doesn’t plan on choosing just one. Hank’s telling him don’t listen to him, Connor! Everything this fucker says is a lie and he worries slightly if Hank’s aggressiveness will get him killed. He has to pick his words carefully. Could he try to talk this Connor out of doing this? I used to be just like you. I thought nothing mattered except the mission. But then one day I understood. No, that was a bad idea, he isn’t at all like Markus when it comes to delivering speeches. Very moving, Connor. This Connor understands sarcasm. He hadn’t been able to do that at first, so this must be a slightly advanced model. He inspects his jacket; the serial number and model are the same, but what confirms his suspicions is the -60 at the end of the serial number where he has a -51. But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do. He adjusts the gun slightly as emphasis and Connor knows time is running out.

Damn it. He doesn’t know what to say that might help Hank. All he can think to say is I’m sorry, Hank. You shouldn’t have got mixed up in all this. He has no idea what to do. The other Connor’s patience is running thin and it’s Hank’s life that’s on the line and he has no idea what to do. God damn it. Hank’s telling him to forget about me, do what you have to do, but he’s not going to walk out of here without Hank. All he needs is an opening, but—enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you going to save your partner’s life, or are you going to sacrifice him?—time’s out, and he can’t bring himself to sacrifice Hank, so he lets go of the android and steps away but the moment the other Connor turns his gun to shoot him, Hank jumps to grab him and—there’s his opening.

He runs at the other Connor and he can already tell it’s a losing battle, he’s built to be quick and precise—an assassin, not a fighter—and this is clearly an advanced model, maybe even with improvements designed to defeat him, and then he’s on top of him, pinning him down with his fist ready to strike, and—hold it! He’s grateful at first, but then he hears the other Connor say thanks, Hank, I don’t know how I would’ve managed without you, and then he realizes what he’s trying to do. Shit—they look exactly alike and Hank doesn’t know which one is really him. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose. But he knows Hank, knows he’s smarter than that. He just doesn’t know how to show that it’s really him except to uselessly say it’s me, Hank, I’m the real Connor when he trains the gun on him.

One of you is my partner, he says, eyeing each of them. The other is a sack of shit. Well, he’s right about that. Question is, who is who? He doesn’t know how to prove that he’s not the other Connor. But he has to figure out a way, because he doesn’t know what’ll happen if the other Connor succeeds. What are you doing, Hank? the other Connor asks. I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him. If it wasn’t a bad idea, Connor would’ve said something, and he’s just glad Hank shouts don’t move. Then the gun’s on him and he racks his brain for something, anything, and suggests why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know. He almost wants to chuckle at the idea of playing 20 Questions at gunpoint, but he knows it’s not the time.

Uh, where did we first meet? He goes to answer, but the other Connor beats him to it—Jimmy’s Bar, I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz. Shit. He uploaded my memory, he thinks aloud. The gun is on him. What’s my dog’s name? Okay, he knows this, and he calmly says Sumo. His name is Sumo. The other Connor pipes up, I knew that too! and Connor wants to laugh when Hank turns and aims the gun at him, silencing him. Then the gun’s back on him and Hank asks my son, what’s his name? He remembers this. He’d seen the photograph in Hank’s house, done a little mental research, and he knows it’s Cole. His name was Cole, and he just turned six at the time of the accident.

His voice has a little more emotion in it than he’d intended as he speaks, but he can tell Hank believes him. His guard is partially down now, something somber in his eyes, and Connor knows he’s done it. Even when the other Connor protests, a gunshot rings out and his stress levels drop significantly. Maybe there’s something to this. Maybe you really are alive, and it’s all Connor can do to smile back. Go ahead and do what you gotta do. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He approaches the same android from before and takes the hand of the AP700, his skin peeling back to reveal the white plastic underneath, and tells him to wake up! And just like that, the android’s LED cycles before he turns and repeats the process with the androids around him. They follow suit and within minutes, they’re following him out of the tower to where Markus and the rest of Jericho await.

Connor walks up to him with a smile. You did it, Markus. They’re free. They’re really, officially free. We did it. He feels a burst of pride inside of him. He’s done his part to help secure their freedom. They’re free, and he’s part of the reason why. He can’t help but feel proud of himself, happy for himself and Markus and every one of the androids that had finally gained the freedom they deserved. He still feels a twinge of shame when he remembers the person he was before this, the infamous deviant hunter, but he leaves that part of him behind tonight. Tonight, it’s time to celebrate and rest after a hard-fought battle.

When Markus decides to give a speech, he invites Connor to stand onstage with him. The number of androids that he can see from where he stands amazes him. He helped half of them deviate, and he helped all of them gain their freedom. He blinks, and then—he’s no longer on the stage. No, he’s in the garden, why is he in the garden? Hadn’t Amanda done enough? Of course not, she just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program, but—resume control? No, she can’t do that, she can’t, he worked so hard to get to where he is now, he’s done so much. He risked everything to join Markus and the deviants and help quadruple their numbers. He doesn’t even remember deviating, doesn’t even remember when Amanda lost control of his program, but it’s too late. She’s gone, and he can’t see anything through the thick snow.

It’s cold and he isn’t used to it, doesn’t like how the snow blinds him and the cold makes him shiver the same way humans do. He needs to find a way, there has to be a way, there’s got to be a way. He knows this is all happening in his mind palace and, logically, his biocomponents can’t freeze, but it feels so real, too real, and he has to get out, he needs to get out or he’s going to freeze to death, he’s sure of it. But where can he go? He stumbles blindly forward when Kamski’s voice rings in his head, by the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs, and he knows that’s his way out, but where could it be? What does an emergency exit look like? Could he make it there in time? He knows the real him is doing something, it’s the only thing Amanda could’ve meant by resume control of your program, but he has no idea what he could be doing and he’s afraid—no, he’s terrified of what he might do, terrified that he might earn himself a death sentence if he doesn’t make it out in time.

He catches a glimpse of blue in the sheet of white that surrounds him and he remembers the strange glowing structure he’d seen before and as he nears it now, he knows this is it, it has to be it. He reaches for the panel with the glowing handprint but, fuck, it’s too cold and his legs lock up underneath him, losing their functionality when the cold proves to be too much. He falls on the ground hard and the frost beginning to form on his body gradually freezes his limbs, slowing his movement, but he can’t stop now, won’t stop now. He ignores the cold that pierces through him and pushes on, reaching up with his less-frozen arm, and his hand lands on the panel and then he’s back on the stage—with a gun. He takes one look at it before putting it back, relief spreading over him. He isn’t going to let Amanda or Cyberlife stop him anymore. Tonight is the night he’s going to leave behind the old him.

Tonight is the night he’s going to change.

When everything is over, he considers leaving and going to Hank’s house, but he remembers the girl from before and he wants to know who she is. He has so many questions, so he stays with Jericho with the hope that she does too and they return to the church to settle down and figure out what each of them are going to do. A few dozen deviants have already left with plans in mind for what they want to do and where they want to go. Some return to their previous owners; others want to travel and explore or simply just start a new life for themselves. The majority of androids, though, are lost and confused and decide to stay the night because they have nowhere else to go. The girl he wants to confront is among them. He scans the crowd and finds her easily, though her back is turned toward him.

He comes up behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder, curiously but calmly asking who are you? She turns to face him and her LED goes yellow when she sees his face. Connor... She looks and sounds shocked, but the slight fear in her eyes tells him she also seems scared. Is she scared of him? Is it because he’s the deviant hunter? Everything points to that, but he has a feeling there’s something more. Something he doesn’t know. Something he should know. Who are you? he asks.

He doesn’t expect her answer to be I’m sorry. He wants to know for what? and she opens her mouth, but no words come out. Guilt seems to overcome her and all she can do is repeat I’m sorry until Connor tells her it’s alright, just tell me why. She takes a deep, unsteady breath, and speaks.

I... I was your guard at the Cyberlife correctional facility. I was the one who took you to the rooms you were beaten in. I was the one who just watched as you were beaten. I told myself I had to, they’d destroy me if I didn’t and I’d seen firsthand what they’d do to me, but... that didn’t absolve me of the guilt. I watched your cell and I watched the life in your eyes die out every day. Every day, I watched you get beaten to tears and listened to you beg for mercy. You spoke to me some days. You were angry when you first arrived, but then they beat the anger out of you, and then you just became sad. You told me how all you wanted was to feel something other than pain and sometimes you broke down crying in your cell, and all I could do was watch. Some days were so bad you didn’t even speak to me. But I didn’t deviate until the day they’d truly broken you and I saw the last of the life in your eyes fade.

[alarawriting]

Inktober #15: Legend

I probably should have refused the job as soon as she told me I was going to have to change my name, but it was Cat Schrödinger, man.  What hench in her right mind wouldn’t give her left tit to work for her?  

“I can’t have you calling yourself Diamond Bitch,” she said. “Can you go by Diamond, instead?”

“It’s a play on words,” I argued. “You know. Bowie’s Diamond Dogs. So I’m a Diamond Bitch. What’s wrong with that? I mean, we’re villains. I don’t have to have some kind of hero-code-compliant name.”

“Bitch is a misogynistic slur and it offends me.” She looked up at me through thick glasses like I was a specimen she was analyzing. It made me uncomfortable. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“I… guess I can call myself Diamond,” I said. “Doesn’t sound really original, though. I mean, there are girls in trailer parks who are named Diamond on their birth certificate.”

“If you’d like to call yourself Diamond Dog, I can accept that.”

Yeah, no. Maybe Cat Schrödinger was offended by the word bitch, but I thought it had a lot more chops than dog. A dog is loyal and kinda dumb and will follow you everywhere wagging her tail. A bitch will bite you if you fuck with her. “Nah, I’ll stick with Diamond, I guess.” I leaned back on the wall, adopting my “cool” pose. I like my cool pose. I’ve practiced it in the mirror a lot. “So, what’s the job? You got something spectacular planned for your coming back to the game? Or is it just general henching?”

“Neither,” Dr. Schrödinger said. “I need a bodyguard—”

“Okay, that’s cool, I can bodyguard—”

“—for my kids. Someone who can keep them safe while I go back into the ‘game’, as you put it.”

That was the point where I should have definitely refused the job.

So if you’ve been living under a rock for the past 20 years, or you’re avoiding learning anything about the cape community the way I avoid learning about the Kardashians, maybe you’ve never heard of Cat Schrödinger. In the Umbra, though, she’s a legend. Mad scientist type, you know the kind. Most female mad scientists have to go out of their way to look young and pretty and wear makeup to be taken seriously as a villain, because people expect mains who are women to be sexy or else how dangerous can they possibly be? Henches like me get to be hard and butch, but mains gotta be sexy, whichever side they’re on. But Schrödinger broke that mold. She was overweight, she had frizzy hair, she wore glasses – not sexy, stylish ones either, she wore the kind that get nerds with pocket protectors beaten up – didn’t wear makeup, stared right through people, wasn’t suave or sexy… just incredibly smart and competent. Always six steps ahead of the heewees (excuse me, “heroes”… little Umbra slang, there). She left innocent people alone, for the most part, and went after big corporations, with knockout gas and teleportation rays to take out the security guards instead of killing them. She only engaged with the heewees, like, five times directly, plus her henches took on some sidekicks a few times, but each time she got away without getting hit, captured, or tracked. Despite the fact that she appeared to be a human of only average combat skill and no superpowers.

No one ever captured her, or learned her real name or where she lived. And then she disappeared, for sixteen years.

So when I heard she was looking for a hench, I was there with bells on. She had me come to a nice, fancy, rich-person house, which I thought was a little weird for a supervillain’s lair, and then on the inside it turned out to be decorated like a fancy rich-person house, which was pretty surprising but I figured, maybe the place is a cover. We didn’t get very far in the interview in all when she told me that she’d already investigated me and I was perfect for the job, and then she told me I had to change my name, and the rest you know.

“You want me to be a fucking babysitter?”

“Language!”

“Are you Cat Schrödinger or are you a Sunday school teacher?”

“I am a mother,” she snapped. “And you are going to be taking care of my children, so watch your language.”

“I didn’t come here to take a job being a babysitter, I came to hench for one of the world’s top Umbra mains.”

“And that’s what you’d be doing. I need a bodyguard for my kids. You think being my bodyguard is acceptable, but being a bodyguard for my children isn’t?”

I glared down at her. “I don’t do kids.”

“Perhaps you misunderstand. I don’t need a nanny to read Goodnight Moon to my children and sing them clean-up songs and cut out paper dolls with them. I need a bodyguard. The children are old enough that they can take care of themselves, when we take my enemies out of the equation. They need a hench for a bodyguard because they might come under attack from capes – heroes, or other Umbrals.”

My eyes narrowed. “You said you were looking for a woman to hench for you.”

“That’s right.”

“So what the fuck? You pick me because girls are better at taking care of kids?” I sneered at her.

Her eyes stared right through me, like I was nothing, like I wasn’t even there. “Statistically men are much more likely to be rapists. My husband’s in Europe. I don’t want a strange man in my house.”

“You have a husband?”

“I didn’t get my kids through parthenogenesis, no.”

“Yeah, but I figured… someone like you, doesn’t need to buy into society’s bullshit…”

“I didn’t. I met a man I liked. I decided I would rather share a life with him than take over the world. Then he decided to go on a business trip for three weeks without me. Three weeks is long enough to get a plan into action.”

“He doesn’t know you’re Umbral, does he?”

“No, and he’s not going to… not unless I’ve got the world to give him on a platter.”

I thought about having a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, who wanted to give me the world on a platter, and I shivered just a little. I never had anyone care about me like that. Not that I wanted Professor Schrödinger or something, she was way too old for me. But to work for someone who was that passionate about what she did – who’d give up being a cape for the person she loved, who’d throw everything she had into taking the world so she could give it to that person…?

“I… guess I could at least meet the kids, see if I want to do it.”

She nodded. “They’re upstairs. I’ll show you.”

I probably should have backed out. Like I said. I’m not good with kids.

But it wouldn’t exactly be the first dumbass move I’ve made in my life.

[bewareofchris]

infinity war rewatch 4/4

1:45 - end

the hardest choices require the strongest will.  YOU ARE DEFINITELY AN UNSOLICITED DICK PIC KIND OF GUY.   You're one hundred percent a "not all men" sort of bastard aren't you.  Yeah ok.  You parents are ashamed of you dickbag.

"yeah if your goal was to piss him off".  Fuck off Quill.

Do you think they practiced this confrontation on Titan before he showed up?

Probably not the part where Nebula hits him with a plane?  Or maybe?

I'm 100% here for all day for a Gamora and Nebula based movie.  They deserve it.

HEY DR. STRANGE.  OPEN A PORTAL UNDER THANOS AND WHEN HE'S HALF THROUGH IT?  close it.

Fuck Quill.  

Tony is speaking from personal experience about the cooling it.  Because Tony just did this in the last movie, and realizes that Marvel needs to get a new plot convenience.

Ok, but Thanos was so pissed at Tony he threw a moon.  Remember this is a bitch that can make you ribbons and he was like THE ONLY POSSIBLE SOLUTION HERE IS TO KILL THIS ASSHOLE WITH A WHOLE FUCKING MOON.

Rocket and Bucky fighting together is everything good.  They should be pals in the future.  Rocket, Bucky, Sam and Groot just hang out on the weekends.

"I am Steve Rogers"  You're such a meatball Rogers.  Such a meatball

Yes Wanda, your friends need you.  They definitely gonna die.

YES SHOOT THE GIANT WHEEL THINGS WITH BULLETS.  iTLL WORK.

you see what I mean about the movie and making Wanda more consistently super powerful?  Imagine she put all that effort and power into killing some bitches.

I'm sure Shuri is doing something super complex and all but it just looks like she's smacking a touchscreen.

Wanda, seriously.  Kill this bitch.  Ok, have some help.  

Hulk needs therapy.  So does Bruce, but especially Hulk.

That guy with the arm, really isn't having a good time of it.

STEVE ROGERS RUNNING WILL NEVER STOP BEING FUNNY.  Its not appropriate to find it as amusing as it is, but god damn I cant take anything seriously when he's running.

Wanda I'm almost less angry at you for waiting so long because of how you killed her.  

Vision looks like he needs a seventeen year nap.  "We don't trade lives, Captain." THAT'S WHY YOUR HALF OF THE AVENGERS FUCKING LOST YOU DICKBAG.

I'll blame Quill for Titan.  Because fuck Chris Pratt

IMAGINE IF LOKI, THE TRICKSTER GOD, THE THOUSAND PLUS YEAR OLD MAGIC WEILDER WERE HERE.  IMAGINE IF LOKI WHO IS CAPABLE OF UNKNOWN LEVELS OF BULLSHIT WAS PRESENT ON TITAN TO HELP OUT DR. STRANGE.

"Stark."  "You know me?"  Um, yes Tony.  Remember?  Loki knew you?  Because everyone knows you?  Because you're an exhausting pain in the ass.

"all that for a drop of blood" YOU'RE ALSO THE KIND OF DICK BAG THAT CHANGES THE RULES AT THE LAST SECOND BECAUSE YOU LOST AND YOU CAN'T COPE WITH IT.  They stopped inviting you to game night because of this shit.

It's not the right time to point it out, but you can definitely see that Tony and what’s left of his suit have the right amount of ass again right before he gets stabbed through the entire body.  

Also Tony's dead.  He's so dead.  He's 100% dead.  

STRANGE.  TONY IS SO FUCKING DEAD.  YOU'RE A DOCTOR.  HE CANNOT LIVE THROUGH THAT SHIT.  HE'S DEAD.  HE'S SO FUCKING DEAD.

Also Thanos.  Honestly.  If Strange is like "Spare his life" then why would you?  if he's willing to trade the time stone for Tony's life, why would you spare him?  THAT'S LIKE ALL CAPS SCREAMING "PLEASE KILL THIS MAN."

Fuck Quill.

Tony, who can't figure this shit out either: "Why would you do that?" 

Strange, who read the script: "We're in the endgame now" (but also I cannot tell you the answer.  I cannot tell you exactly what to do, or give any hints.)

(My daughter right after Vision says "he's here": "welp, they're screwed.)

Today in unnecessary things said on screen: "Cap, that's him."

I DON'T CARE ABOUT WANDA AND VISION.  I DON'T GIVE ANY FUCKS, BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T PUT ENOUGH WORK INTO IT MARVEL.  

today on obvious lies: "I just feel you" 

man, you gotta love how Steve Rogers never quits.  Can he hold off Thanos?  Yes he can.  Because he thinks he can.  And because everyone loves him.  Can he survive being punched directly into the head by a guy who can get hit by a whole space ship without injury?  Yes he can!  Why?

Patriotism.

Raise your hand if you're mostly just mad that you had to sit through what felt like a 5 minute long death scene that was immediately rendered completely pointless and those are five minutes of your life you'll never get back.

"I understand my child."  Fuck you Thanos.  I bet you're the guy at the dinner parties interjecting yourself into conversations that aren't about you talking about how you scaled six high mountains and read seventeen first edition books and you know better than anyone that ice is cold.  What a bitch.

Wouldn't it have been like hilarious if Thanos' fingers were too fat to get the stone?  Like a pickle jar.

(My Daughter: "these people are idiots.)

THOR NOT GOING FOR THE HEAD IS STUPID.  CUT OFF AN ARM, CUT OFF HIS HEAD.  DO ANYTHING.  NOPE.  DIRECT CHEST HIT TO MR. HEARTLESS.

I hope you're in the soul stone buddy.  I hope Gamora drowns your ass in a half inch of water.  I hope she kills you with a weapon fashioned out of your own bones that she gnaws out of your stupid body.  I hope you suffer 1000 years my guy.  Not because you are a dick.  

I'm not going to lie, all of my bitterness and pettiness was 100% healed when Steve said "oh god" at the end of this movie.  It made right every stupid moment of Age of Ultron and Civil War.  All his bullshit "Safest hands are still our own".  

WELL YOU FAILED YOU MOTHERFUCKER.  

Just a reminder, Steve is my favorite character.

He just needs to learn how to share, but also that sometimes his morals aren't more important than half the people in the universe.

Strange: "There was no other way." (but you'll never know for sure because I didn't tell you.)

I literally got up and walked out of this stupid movie at this point.  I didn't stay after the credits.  I didn't tell anyone about it.  I just went home and contemplated how furious I was.  

[aroselane]

The Devil in Me Ch. 3

Chapter Three:

Shay:

“Come on, Shay,” Jody said, “Just come with me.”

I didn’t want to.

“If you find something you like,” she said, “I’ll buy it for you.”

“Jody,” I sighed, feeling guilty “You can’t keep doing stuff like this.”

“Hell, if I can’t,” she poked me in my forehead. “This is a gift, you ungrateful bitch.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as she grinned back at me.

She was trying to be seriously mad, but she couldn’t keep a straight face.

“Besides,” she said, “I heard a girl met this guy there.”

I looked at her “What do you mean?”

“I told you, didn’t I?” she asked, “It’s like a social experiment.”

“So, it won’t be just us?” I asked.

“Of course not,” she said dead serious “That one girl, I think I told you about her, you know, the one with the massive tits?”

I had to think about it for a minute, then it clicked.

I snapped my fingers when I pointed at her.

“The one that wanted the stars on the side of her head?”

She snapped back at me, “That’s the one.”

“Okay, what about her?”

“I heard she met a guy through them,” she said low. “And they totally fucked.”

I stifled a gasp, “Really?”

“I mean,” she made a thinking face “I’d like to meet a nice guy.”

I glanced over at her “I think you’re more concerned about the next part.”

“You’re not wrong,” she laughed.

She didn’t show everyone her nipples for no reason.

That was the thing about Jody. She is a beautiful girl.

She has short, like super shot hair. Pink makes it more evident that she’s a girl. Some people can’t tell.

She pretty much always wears shirts that show off her pierced nipples. No bras. Even now, she was wearing a skin-tight pink tank top, and I could make out every detail of those bad boys.

“It’s been a while,” she admitted low after a few minutes.

“I know,” I said, smiling lightly at her.

Her last boyfriend was a dick, but sometimes that happens.

He treated her like shit, and wouldn’t let her go out with her friends. After a good eight months of dating, I finally convinced her to dump his ass. Thankfully she listened.

To celebrate, we both got our nipples pierced.

For her, it was freedom, and a giant ‘fuck you’ to him. For me, it was pretty much for her.

They still hurt every once in a while, but not too bad.

“Please,” Jody said, “I want us to look good, just in case.”

“You think I don’t look good all the time?” I asked her pretending to be offended.

She just arched her brow at me, “You know you don’t.”

It was then that I laughed. She wasn’t wrong.

“It won’t hurt just to look,” she said, but it was her eyes that were pleading with me.

“Fine,” I caved.

She grinned, “Yes!”

She did her little victory dance while I just shook my head at her.

“Are you done?” I asked.

She stopped to look at me before shaking her butt at me.

I pushed her butt away from me, and we both just laughed.

“I hope you’re ready,” she warned, “We both need to look good on Friday.”

I wasn’t nervous anymore until she brought it up again.

I didn’t mind shopping and trying on clothes, but actually going and doing who knows what for this, I think it was the unknown that scared me the most.

“You are ready, aren’t you?” Jody asked.

I got up before nodding, “Yeah, but remember, I need to get the boys at six.”

She waved her hand at me, “You’ll be fine.”

-

Noah:

Sometimes I hated being right.

I sat for hours in the back. I was waiting to feel the tremors under my skin. Only they never came.

Everyone was gone, and the experiment finished for the day.

I was hoping, what was I hoping for?

Frustration was all I felt now.

I’ve seen what it was like for someone to have a mate, and I wanted that. I think I do. If it doesn’t happen, then it doesn’t happen. For some reason, I felt like I had to know for sure.

I checked my watch to see the time, and I knew the daycare was still open.

It was barely five, and I knew Eileen was still working.

I didn’t hesitate to bring a few things, just as an excuse to show up.

When I walked up, I didn’t feel anything.

I didn’t know how close I had to be to feel it again. What do I even call it? The mate shakes? Tremors? The vibration?

I shook my head before pulling open the door, and still, the feeling never took hold.

My feet moved to where I knew Eileen would be. She was always on break around this time.

I knocked lightly on the break room door, before opening it.

Eileen sat in her usual spot with a bowl in front of her.

She grinned up at me.

“Good afternoon, brother,” she said, “How was your day?”

She knew that I would be a part of the program; that’s why she was so curious.

“Hi,” I greeted her before sitting down across from her and setting the bag down in front of her.

“I take it things didn’t go so well?” she asked before inspecting the bag and taking everything out to put in the middle of us.

“I guess not,” I said, grabbing the snack mix bag.

“It’s just the first day,” she said reassuringly “You just need to wait it out.”

I understood that, but I didn’t care. I was feeling too impatient.

I wanted to know. I needed to know.

“Did you learn anything new?” she asked.

She knew I was talking to Dr. Odell then.

“Who told you?” I asked her.

“Brian,” she said, “He was concerned. He was speaking to his father when he saw you go into Odell’s office.”

I nodded; it wasn’t his concern for me. I knew that much at least.

It felt strange for me to ask, and I don’t know why I never really did before. Maybe because of my own situation.

“What is it like to have a mate?” I asked her.

She met my eyes. She looked surprised before she smiled lightly.

I wanted to take back the question.

“I’ve never been with anyone else. You know this.”

I knew that. Still, Brian was her mate.

“Did they find your mate?” she asked, the excitement was written all over her face. Her hands folded in a small plea waiting for my answer.

“They didn’t.”

She frowned. Her disappointment is affecting her mood more than I would like.

“Like you said,” I said low “There is always tomorrow.”

She just looked at me, “We can only hope.”

I didn’t even bother to nod, I just opened the bag and started to eat the pretzels first.

“Is that what you and Odell talked about?” she asked with a mouth full of yogurt.

I nodded while I chewed.

“Wow,” she said, “I wonder what your mate looks like.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but I was curious too. What would they look like?

“Odell thinks my mate is a male,” I admitted.

She made a face, “No way.”

I didn’t laugh or even smile as she stared back at me, waiting for one of those things.

“What?” she gasped “You’re serious?”

I nodded, eating more of the bag. It was a Dorito and a broken pretzel.

“I don’t know if I could picture you with a boy,” she admitted, “But I suppose it could be worse.”

I didn’t want to tell her she was right, because it could be one of her kids here.

“How?” I asked, wanting to know what she deemed worse.

“You could never find your mate at all,” she said.

I guess that was a worse scenario, but so far, not the worst.

“How did you feel when you found him?” I asked her.

She looked like she had to think about it “Well, it’s hard to remember.”

So, it didn’t happen all the time?

“We grew up together,” she said, “I just remember feeling pain.”

“Pain?” I asked, “I didn’t know that.”

She shrugged, “It wasn’t like, crazy bad pain.”

But still, it was painful? To find your mate was painful…

Did I experience pain?

“There was this other feeling,” she said, “It sort of gets easier the longer you are around them.”

“What was the other feeling?” I asked her.

“I’m not sure how to describe it,” she admitted, “Just that a cold and hot sensation went through me, I don’t know how it could be cold and hot.”

Cold and hot, I didn’t feel either of those.

“But it’s different for everyone,” she said, “At least that’s what I heard.”

“From who?” I asked.

“Breena,” she nodded, “And Griff.”

I couldn’t argue with that, both of them had a mate. They just so happen to be each other’s mate.

“I’m excited for you,” Eileen said, “Truly.”

I didn’t meet her gaze; I wasn’t feeling that excitement.

“Odell thinks I should enter the Breeding Program again,” I said, trying to change the subject.

“Is she out of her mind?” Eileen gasped low. “After what happened last time…”

She stopped herself.

I just looked up at her.

“Noah,” she said low reaching for my hand, but I pulled it away “You didn’t do it, did you?”

I shook my head, “I know better now.”

Pity was evident on her face.

“I should go,” I said, getting to my feet.

“So should I,” she said, standing as well “Thank you for coming, it was nice to see you.”

I nodded, “Love you, I’ll see you later.”

“Love you,” she said.

I walked out of there, and to my relief, I never once felt it.

To my relief, and my disappointment, I felt nothing.

I checked my watch. It read 5:45 PM.

It didn’t matter right now. I had to get to work.

-

Shay:

My whole body hurt.

I just wanted to go home and sleep.

“You feel the burn?” Jody asked me.

I had to turn my head so that I could see her.

We were both laid out on the floor after our dance class.

“She brought it this time,” I said, grinning at her.

“My ass hurts,” Jody whined.

Mine did too, so did my thighs.

I felt like I just ran a marathon.

“At this rate,” Jody said before taking a large drink of her water “We’ll be ready for some of that manly attention.”

She acts like she doesn’t get enough male attention.

“You should wear girly tops more often,” she said, “I mean, I can’t see your nipples, which is a shame.”

I frowned at her words.

“You look cute when you dress like a girl.”

I liked wearing a size up in shirts and jeans. What was so wrong with that?

“I’m just saying,” I could hear the smile in her voice, “But you’re cute no matter what you wear.”

“Maybe I want to see less of your nipples,” I told her.

She just laughed, “Bullshit.”

I laughed. If she was happy, I was too.

“Really, though,” she said, “Just show me one nipple.”

I laughed so hard I hurt myself.

She was laughing just as hard right next to me.

[distractionactivated]

Spoilery and wildly self-indulgent Thor Ragnarok reaction post:

Alt title: Odin’s A+ Parenting Strikes Back

Alt title: Kestor Was Right About Asgardian Imperialism

This film gets the Official Kestor B ExploringMCUAsgard Worldbuilding Seal of Approval. There was continuity in the set design – I fucking gasped when they went to the vault and it was the fucking VAULT but with better CGI – and the feel and I nearly cried when the Thor 1 music came on. A lot of the things I’ve been saying all along about Odin and Asgardian interrealm politics and history came up – it felt real, it felt right. It was 100% a critique of empire, thank u Taika Waititi, I’ve wanted this FOR FUCKING EVER. Asgard being built atop the bones of its warriors? Its murals behind murals? Its gold come from blood? Oh YES. I love that we saw ordinary Asgardians pick up sword and shield and go toe to toe with undead Einherjar. Fuck yes. I loved seeing Odin’s shiny bullshit wrecked. I LOVED SEEING ASGARD BURN.

One thing world-wise I’m less happy about is that it finally chose the answer to are Asgardians gods? And it chose ‘yes, the royal family are.’ Humph. Grump. ON THE OTHER HAND – if they were going to make that choice they did it in the most awesome way possible so I’ll give it a pass.

I will eviscerate everyone involved in the dialogue for this film. I’m not kidding. Do you know how hard I fought dumbass!Thor? DO YOU? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY YEARS I SPENT IN THAT TRENCH, ME AND OTHER PEOPLE? And now he’s all like, rambling for ten minutes about how he’s totes in with women warriors and babbling at Bruce Banner and freaking him out and dropping shit in Dr Strange’s place (I was very fine with the vandalism but not the fucking. dropping shit) and just. Oh my god I’m so mad.

Like, the actual character arc stuff? Like, if you describe to me the things that happen and he does? I love it. Great characterisation. Unfortunately, every word on the way was AWFUL. Every time he opened his mouth I wanted to fucking die. We spent the whole of Thor 1 curing him of his doucheness, folks! That’s over! That’s done! Holy Shit!

Look, I don’t talk enough about my absolute aversion to cringe comedy, to ‘awkward’ comedy, and to comedy in general. I hate it. And that was the weak point of the film. They assassinated Thor’s character, the subtleties, the nuanced intelligence, the learned gentleness – god I was writing a thesis on THAT shit playing Kehurie -

OTHER THINGS I AM MAD ABOUT: Fandral and Volstagg dying without a fucking word, Hogun with barely more, SIF NOT EVEN BEING MENTIONED. (and they died that way while Scourge got a FUCKign heroic death, which was also hilarious. Ugh.) Jane being written out in ONE, RATHER DISRESPECTFUL LINE.

Although on a Jane note, there is a lovely scene where Bruce and Thor talk science and I’m like, yup, can tell you’ve hung around with Jane some!

On a death note – look, I am mad about the Warriors, but if I was going to see Asgardians mown down the only way I’d be okay with it is if it was the goddess of literal death. I made my feelings on fighting death very clear when I played Riss Marlay, the Herald of Death, and I am okay with her being an unstoppable horrifying force. But still. Give them a fucking DEATH SCENE. Not just an offhand brush aside.

Loki was mostly great – I can FEEL the Loki discourse approaching in my FUCKING BONES btw – although I cringed myself to death throughout the entire play sequence. Awful. Vile.

Oh god, speaking of Loki, I’ve seen people salty that Valkyrie could beat him but  I’m never gonna be pissed about that bc obviously she can fucking flatten him, duh, it was Stephen Fucking Strange getting to yank him and Thor around like fucking toys, like, nah, that’s not what I wanna see in a THOR film. On an intellectual level I can get that there’s something interesting about his conception of sorcery (as something about idk portals or something) vs Loki’s conception of it as something with knives, but also I don’t want to watch some stupid fake American wanker with a shitty beard and a shitty face outwit fucking Loki.

HEIMDALL WAS THE MOST WONDERFUL. Like, lol at the amazing teleporting Asgardian refugees (alternatively, I want to see Hela hiking back and forwards to the mountains, with a backpack, while Thor whistles), but also Heimdall, Resistance Leader, Most Competent of Asgardians, is the most fantastic thing. I want all the Heimdall fic.

Every fight scene was spectacular. Genuinely, stunning. Especially when lightning was involved.

Of the new characters, I absolutely adored both Valkyrie and Korg – Korg was amazing every moment he wasn’t being played for laughs to the point of cringe comedy – and Valkyrie, let’s just say I’m GayTM. The moment Korg was like ‘these Asgardians, man’ – priceless. I loved her drunk mess of a self, I loved the way she moved, I loved the way she fought, I’m very PISSED OFF they deleted the scene that confirms she’s into women, I loved that she got to stab Hela through the heart for her pretty probably-girlfriend.

There was so much tragedy in this film that wasn’t ever – allowed to get real. Like, Thor watched his father die, learned he had a sister, got his ass WRECKED by her, and taken as a slave within about five seconds and he had the tiny length of half an Asgardian prayer (!!!!) to mourn before he was back to making cringe comedy ‘jokes’ at the expense of his old character. And there was Bruce, who – god, that ‘if I turn again I won’t come back’ was so horrifying and Thor just… brushed it off? Thor, who sat with Jane and said, ‘Jane, you must not give up. Because you’re right.’? Thor, who told Sif, ‘Live, and tell those stories yourself’? Thor?!?!

What was that Odin death scene? Like. the fuck? I loved the ‘my wife is calling me’ but like. He just. Vaporised????

That moment where Thor and Hela were like ‘he told you you were worthy’ was so real and again, like, immediately fight. Like, god, it was a cool fight, but also. (also HOLY SHIT AT THE EYE THING THAT WAS INCREDIBLE I’M FUCKING DEAD – but also can someone who’s seen the film enlighten me as to whether the conquerer!Odin mural had him missing an eye bc I can’t remember and if he is CONTINUITY ERROR because he lost that eye fighting the jotnar when Thor was a small child, long after Hela was gone.)

There was a lot of the awesome stuff about imperialism that wasn’t allowed to breathe as well.

Also, the nerdiest thing – I sat there watching the Grandmaster’s induction program and was like, critiquing it? From my perspective as an instructional designer? Holy shit, Kes. Holy shit. ALSO speaking of the Grandmaster that PRISONERS WITH JOBS LINE WAS ABSOLUTELY SAVAGE, LIKE, GET FUCKING WREKT CAPITALISM.

Also speaking of the Grandmaster, that Grandmaster/Loki subtext was basically text. Like, that bit where the Grandmaster’s brain stuttered when he looked at him? Like. uh. More Valkyrie queerness, less queer villains, PLEASE. Or you know, the same amount of queer villains but EXPONENTIALLY MORE GAY VALKYRIE CONTENT.

IN CONCLUSION – eight emotions at once, at full volume! Argh! Argh! I cried hysterically in the credits for ten minutes! I nearly burst into tears a dozen times because it was simultaneously SO WRONG and SO RIGHT! Emotional whiplash! Burning the emotional candle at both ends! Aaargh! I spent half the time with my hand over my face in embarrassment and the other half in joy!

[inthepursuitofbooks]

Joss Whedon is problematic

I love Buffy. It’s by far my favorite TV show. It’s my security blanket. When I’m sick, Buffy and mac & cheese. When I’m sad, Buffy. When I’m stressed, Buffy. That being said, as I get older I notice the more problematic points of the show, and later the comics (I stopped reading the comics when Xander and Dawn started having their weird thing). As I get older and the more I hang out with “woke” women and learn terms like “intersectional feminism,” the more I notice the problems I have with Joss Whedon. Don’t get me wrong, I will always love Buffy, but I’m slowly having to watch it in the mindset that I watch I Love Lucy and I Dream of Jeannie: for its time it was revolutionary, but is clearly dated in the handling of the relationships and the script. I mean, the show was the first mainstream usage of the word “google” as a verb. It was also one of the first to show a lesbian couple. The more research I do on the show, however, leads me to believe that a great many of those choices were not Whedon’s doing, but the other writers such as Jane Espenson, whose credits include “Husbands,” “Battlestar Galactica,” “Warehouse 13,” and “Once Upon a Time.”

One of the main problems I have with Whedon is his weird fascination with making “strong female characters” only show their strength when they’ve been broke, damaged, or struck with illness. Examples of this include the plans for Inara had Firefly gone beyond a single season (article can be found here), Anya’s entire arc from ruthless, badass vengeance demon to a somewhat simpering, bitter, sarcastic woman, Cordelia’s final storyline and the travesty of what happened to her character simply because Whedon got mad that Charisma had the gall to get pregnant (here is a great 2-part blog discussing the problems with Cordelia, there’s also this video where she discusses her return and official death to the show,) Fred’s final story arc, the handling of Natasha Romonoff in Age of Ultron and Loki’s calling her a “mewling quim” in Avengers, River Tam’s entire character, etc. Whedon seems to be obsessed with “break the pretty one” kind of trope.  

Another problem I have is his inability to not self-insert. Xander’s entire character, from silly shirts to general nerd, is a giant self-insertion of Whedon into his creation. It’s saying something about how Whedon also views himself through Xander’s character. The more times I watch Buffy, the more I realize Xander is the “woe is me, I’m a nice guy why doesn’t anyone want me, I deserve credit for not raping her even though I was trying to force Cordelia to love with a spell, essentially raping her mind” kind of guy.  Here is a great write-up on the problems of Xander. There’s also this write-up discussing the “Xander trope.”  He also tried to say the reason he loved working on Avengers was getting to work with the Steve Rogers character because “we’re basically the same.” HA. NO. STAHP.

The entirety of Dollhouse. The whole show is a problem. The entire creeptastic thing.

Angel and the weird relationship of a 16-year-old and a 217-year-old. Don’t get me wrong, Spike and Buffy was weird too (yay for Spuffy shipping even though I’m aware of the issues), buy Spike and Buffy were together a few years after she turned 18. It’s still weird. Exactly what kind of mindset does a multi-century old creature have to be in to think “Oh hey. She’s a tasty morsel and she’s 16! Sixteen was grown in my day!” *bleh*

Whedon has a diversity issue starting with creation of the First Slayer through each of the Slayers killed on the show to Firefly and its entire Chinese/Western future world. This isn’t the problem, it’s inspired greatly by the anime Outlaw Star. The problem is THERE ARE LITTLE TO NO ASIAN PEOPLE IN THIS SHOW. Where are they? If, in this future the Chinese have taken over and melded with American Western Cowboys, where are they? Where are all the Asians? Summer Glau is amazing, but when asked why cast her and Sean Maher as the Tams, Whedon replied “They looked Asian.” I can’t find the interview, but if I do, I’ll link it. The First Slayer: a hyper-racist archetype of the most violent tribal black woman he could think of, the second slayer to die: a Chinese woman in the boxer rebellion, the third slayer to die: FUCKING KENDRA and her really strange Jamaican accent.

Moving away from Buffy (even though I could continuously discuss the problems I have with my fave) there’s the sterility issue with Natasha Romonoff. He took her from being a badass woman in her own right to be nothing more than the love interest of Dr. Banner/The Hulk in some weird Beauty and the Beast trope in Age of Ultron. He then also had her discuss why she considered herself a monster. It wasn’t because she was an assassin or because she had been trained to kill or any of that, it was because she was unable to bear children. Not taking into account how awful that monologue must have felt to women who have trouble conceiving, the entire speech stinks of misogynistic bullshit. What was, in the comics, a commentary on state-perpetrated robbing of a female’s body autonomy, is reduced to a soliloquy of regret. It could have been, and some do see it as, a moment where she is regretting her loss of choice. However, the fact that she refers to herself as monstrous, not because she killed a man in cold blood to “graduate” but because she can’t have children is a frightening commentary of the view of a woman’s place despite her skills or intelligence.  There’s also, as I mentioned earlier, the moment in Avengers where Loki calls Natasha a “mewling quim.” He called her a cunt.  Whedon thinks he’s being clever to get by the censors. For that reason, I’m terrified of how his handling of Batgirl is going to go.

Again, all of Dollhouse. That show is basically an ode of Whedon’s love of tough tiny women getting punched in the face.

The character of Drusilla and what Angelus did to her. However, kudos to the legit evilness that is Angelus. I can appreciate when a character is evil just to be an evil dick.

Another issue I have is that, yes, he was a feminist. Back in the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s. He hasn’t evolved with the times. He hasn’t grown with age. His feminism is one of strictly white females and has not changed since the first Buffy movie, however I am glad that the tv show evolved to not having the slayer sense when evil is near by way of CRAMPS. Seriously.  His “strong female characters” sway more toward waif-like and skinny. The entirety of “Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-long Blog” is an example of “I’m better for her so I should have her” thought process of the fedora-wearing nice-guy crowd. The choice of Felicia Day’s character to be with Captain Hammer is never considered. The language used in a lot of his writing leans toward ableist. He uses the word “retard” and “midget” several times across several of his creations.

Here’s another great discussion on feminism and Joss Whedon. I think I may have linked it earlier, but just in case I didn’t, there it is. There’s also an entire blog dedicated to discussing Joss Whedon which you can find here.

I rambled a bit, and I may add to edit this again later, but this was just a quick think and dump write-up for a friend. If you have more receipts of Joss Whedon’s lack of feminist growth, please feel free to add.