#sorry this is an extremely specific au that caters to me and me only but if anyone is ever interested feel free to ask!

[usachxxn]

cycles au doodles that make sense to nobody but me 👍

[ryuichirou]

I wanna know more about your prison au like who are the inmates and who are the guards. Not to mentioned the story and their crimes.

+

Anonymous asked:

OKAY NEED MORE PRISON AU TWST BECAUSE IT'S MY FAVORITE AU OF YOU GUYS

I need to know who is exactly prisoners and who are the wardens...

And the esetting for the au... Please...

SPARE THIS POOR 💙 ANON THE PRISON AU MEAL!!

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(This reply is written by Katsu uwu)

Thank you for your keen interest in this AU, Anons! <3 As we’ve already mentioned in this reply, it’s actually just a setting for any characters to be either the inmate or the warden, so they can be switched any time for flexibility. However, I think that now there’re certain circumstances that make characters lean towards their specific role + it’s just easier for me to imagine them in this universe, so I can name their positions and reasons for being in jail more confidently. I guess I just got inspired enough to write something. Still, there might be a chance where we post a fanart of this AU and it’s totally different from what I’ve written here lol Sorry

Let’s start with Heartslabyul. All of them are wardens, because they’re here to follow Riddle’s orders. It just suits them, you know? So weird. I wonder why... They also look so sexy in a uniform, all of them.

Riddle is the main reason this AU exists because nothing suits him more than being a warden. The way their whole dorm is about discipline just makes them perfect for this setting. He is that strict... upper warden?? idk, their (other warden boys, I mean) superior, so he is especially pressed about keeping order and having a good reputation. No one is allowed to break the rules, be it inmates or wardens, and if he catches you, he’s going to be mad. Everyone is informed of his temper, and his punishments are severe, although always in line with the existing rules. He never oversteps boundaries.

Trey is another warden, but he also might be a cook? Idk. He’s good at handling prisoners and can actually scare them off quite easily if he wants to, but he tries to keep the appearance of a nice guy. One time he joked about looking so intimidating without glasses, that if anyone other than inmates saw him, they might confuse him with a prisoner and put him in jail lol

Cater is just your typical warden, there’s nothing to see here... or is there? Sometimes he gets in trouble for uploading photos to Magicam, because those are selfies from the restricted areas.

Ace is an asshole and pisses Riddle off by accidentally fucking something up sometimes. He’s also one of those wardens that help prisoners out by smuggling things and bringing items to prison in the first place. Not for free, ofc. He’s an annoyingly sly guy, but he’s rather harmless even by Riddle’s standards.

Deuce is like the opposite of that. He’s so happy and proud to have such an honorable job that his mother is certainly happy about so he can’t make mistakes at any cost. Unfortunately, his partner is Ace, who’s hiding his shenanigans from Deuce, so Deuce is about to learn a lot of new things. Deuce is also pressured by his previous life, like “Wow, I could’ve been on the opposite side of the bars���, so he’s extremely conscious about it and feels ashamed of himself quite often. He really likes it when inmates regret their mistakes and genuinely want to start a new life after being released.

Leona is that guy who’d fuck you over so you get sent to prison for his crime... right, Ruggie? But he’s nice enough, so you get a sentence not so bad as the crime Leona’s actually committed. Which is stupid, because he’s a prince and can bribe himself out of almost any situation. That’s why he’s not in this AU at all – that and because we don’t care about him lol But he’d be an inmate, and his crimes would have been (attempted?) murder of his brother and, if you feel extremely violent today, attempted murder of his nephew. Not only that, but he’s the mastermind who organised both of those things and involved a bunch of people, so his punishment is going to be extremely severe.

Poor Ruggie is sitting in jail for some dumb shit and is going to be released soon. It’s not his actual crime, he’s done plenty of other things, so this sentence is like a cakewalk for him. A vacation from Leona, you can say, plus Ruggie gets bonuses from him when he’s free again! Ruggie mostly does stuff like stealing, pick pocketing, trespassing, selling and buying illegal stuff, smuggling, this type of things. So he’s in jail for one of those things, and thank god the judges didn’t know about the rest...

Jack is a very diligent prison warden. He’s insanely strong, very acute to what’s going on, so you need to be very quiet around him, otherwise he’ll hear about your escape plan very easily (same happens if you try to dig your cell with a spoon or something). The amount of times he caught inmates on the verge of escaping is the biggest one in the prison. He takes his job seriously and believes in law, which is the worst combi for prisoners. Even though he’s a very nice guy, he would be sus if any of the inmates tried to talk to him out of nowhere.

The next bunch is very interesting, because the entire Octavinelle is mafia. There’s no way around it, they’re all criminals, but it would be stupid of them to get caught and not get away by any possible means, right?

Azul is the mastermind behind everything that’s been going on outside. He surely wouldn’t be in jail, because hell, his plans are so calculated that it’s almost impossible for him to be caught off guard. He’s cautious, planning, and his schemes almost achieve perfection. Even if after so many years of his “business” he’d get a sentence, pretty sure he would spend it in the luxury of his own mansion. He’s a criminal, who, if luck is on his side, is going to gain some useful influence inside the jail – both among directors/governors/wardens and inmates. There’re many notorious names in this prison that he’d like to help out because of his benevolence. That’s his role in this AU.

His right hand Jade is there to help him out, of course. One time because of his love of chaos he’d get sentenced to a couple of years instead of Floyd out of his own desire. Plus, it’s nice to take a rest from Azul from time to time and explore new locations and people and learn about this prison from inside out. His sentence would sound very innocent compared to the things that he actually does on a regular occasion, and he’d love to see mortified faces of people on the trial if they found out... Such a pity he can’t tell them. So for now he’s there for... let’s say stealing. Innocent enough.

Floyd is Azul’s go-to for quickly getting rid of some annoying investigation before he figures out how to halt it completely and, if possible, bribing and buying new people into his net of influence. Floyd expected his first experience in prison to be terrible because of the curfew, the rules, those annoying commands all the time, but he found tons of interesting stuff, so he had a pretty good time there. His sentences are always something light, so when people hear what he’s for, they never believe it – Floyd looks like a bloody murderer, there’s no way this guy just stole a couple of hundreds of madols and didn’t kill anyone in the process. Sometimes Floyd gets captured simply because he’s not in the mood for running away from the police, and it pisses Azul off so fucking much. He fucks up almost ten of his plans at once by doing this.

Kalim is a prison warden. He’s very friendly, easy-going, naive and ready to listen to anyone’s worries and concerns. He believes everyone is here to become a better person and definitely to start a new life after their time is over, so he’s easy to fool. He’s that perfect warden to smuggle stuff around without him noticing anything, and if you get caught by him, there’s a high chance that he’s going to let it slide a time or two, but you have to be very convincing with your innocence act and say that you regret your actions. He clearly doesn’t belong in this position, and him being in prison is off for everyone who knows him. Why is he there?

Jamil, on the other hand, is a perfect inmate. He’s sly, he’s cunning, he looks nice and cute in front of the wardens and the way he behaves is almost too good to be true, which makes more intellectually gifted wardens uneasy. They’re right, because the amount of things in Jamil’s power in prison is insane. He’s probably one of the most influential people among inmates, and most of that is anonymous, so he’s safe. He’s cautious and manipulative, and that makes Kalim a perfect, although a very easy victim for that, tbh. He’s in jail for something trivial, but his crimes are worse than that.

The other plot for Scarabia boys is Kalim fucking something up and Jamil taking the blame to protect Kalim and his name. Then he can also take a break from his hard life as a servant... wow people go to jail as a vacation in this au lmao

Pomefiore... huh. I guess I can see them in both scenarios, but I’ll start with the one we drew a comic about.

Vil is an inmate. His sentence? Poisoned a guy. He’s actually poisoned many more, but then his sentence would be way too long if people found out, and this terrible dry air and not so great conditions are going to contaminate his beauty beyond repair. He was caught by accident, he didn’t plan to go to prison unlike a lot of guys on this list, but he’s going to escape pretty soon. He doesn’t really talk to many people and prefers to spend his time alone, reading and being as unapproachable as possible, but a lot of guys are charmed by him, and he has minions here and there who are ready to obey any of his orders. Even some wardens can’t escape his charm...

... like Rook, for instance. He’s one of the best prison wardens, being able to sense anyone’s escape attempts just as well as Jack can, which says a lot. He’s very attentive, but very secretive, and you never know what’s going on in his head, so inmates try to avoid him. He loves it when they try to escape though because of his whole hunter shtick. However, he miserably had a crush on Vil when they transferred him to the prison, and now Rook is completely at his mercy. He’ll quit his job the next day Vil is free to follow him to the end of the world.

Vil’s seriousness and attitude would make him a perfect warden who can control inmates not only by his harsh orders, but also impeccable looks. A fuckton of inmates want to fuck Vil, tbh.  Rook is one of them, for example. He’s that wild, uncontrollable beast who’s going to be tamed by Vil’s gorgeousness. Upon hearing that, Vil isn’t going to be happy, but he’ll be surprised by how non-barbarian and educated Rook actually is. It’s so weird for Vil that he chose the life of a criminal, but Rook can’t suppress his desire for hunting. He was caught red-handed killing someone, but his murder count is insanely high in reality.

Epel is somewhat tough to decide as well, but his situation is going to mirror Vil. So if Vil is an inmate, so is Epel, and the same with wardens. He’s a very diligent warden who has troubles with making inmates listen to him because of his appearance and cute looks, and he often thinks that this job is not for him. He used to yell at prisoners and threaten them, but when Vil became his superior, Epel had to start ordering people around more gracefully, and he’s not happy about it. Vil thinks that Epel can’t act the way he used to and that as a prison warden he needs to set an example of a proper, lawful citizen for the inmates, but Epel’s troubled past and his complexes don’t let him let go of that part of himself. Something similar happens when Epel is a prisoner – just because he’s in jail doesn’t mean he can act any way he wants and behave like a spoiled child and cause troubles. Epel’s crime is probably hooliganism, public disorder, property damage/vandalism or something along those lines.

Idia is the prison’s technician. He’s somewhat of a prison warden, but he usually spends all his time inside his room with a bunch of monitors and computers, from which he watches anime, plays videogames, and serfs the net monitors inmates’ activity, of course. Sometimes he allows himself to eat cup noodles, he doesn’t hoard them there at all. He’s quite comfortable in his little safe space and doesn’t like to leave it, but he has to from time to time – he’s not only responsible for the surveillance (he’s obviously not the only one with this job), his task is also to code and check the security system in the prison. So gates, alarms, notifications, lights, servers and other stuff are also on him. He prefers to work distantly, so these conditions are almost perfect for him, and he doesn’t have to go anywhere that much. He’s pretty scared of both the inmates and his fellow wardens and doesn’t want to talk to any of them. However, because he tends to sneak out of his room at night to work in the server room and walk around, inmates can instantly recognise him because of his glowing hair. Nevertheless, he’s such a rare sight that for most prisoners he’s more of a rumor. Some people had been in this prison for years and haven’t seen anyone even remotely resembling Idia.

Ortho is there to support his niisan. Mostly mentally and so that he wouldn’t feel alone. We can play with Ortho in this AU, as his pre- and post-chapter 6 selves are slightly different, and in the first case he’d just be that robot boy who can shoot you on sight and is technically his own alarm system and a little flying prison warden. In the second case, Ortho will be much more into the role of a proper prison warder, taking his own shifts and patrolling the cells and stuff. He’s more dangerous than Jack and Rook despite his innocent look and seemingly naive disposition, which is a common mistake for new arrivals. He sent quite a few people in the infirmary for breaking the rules and trying to attack a prison warden (this warden is him, of course). In both scenarios he would bring Idia stuff he’d asked, so people would actually see Ortho more often than Idia. Idia doesn’t feel comfortable with leaving Ortho alone with those brutes, though.

Malleus... doesn’t really fit in this AU at all. He’s a king, so he should be put into something more appropriate than that. Since there’re characters who don’t really appear either as wardens or prisoners, I think it’s okay to say that he’s one of those. However, he’s closer to being a prison warden, easily making every cellmate tremble at the sound of his name. He’d actually quite enjoy that, maybe he should try being one sometime :)

Lilia is an inmate. I’ve been talking about how a lot of wardens are very dangerous, and, well, Lilia is the most dangerous inmate in the prison. His sentence is lifelong (heh), his crimes are blood chilling, but what the court doesn’t know is that they didn’t even scratch the surface on his trial, judging him rather lightly in Lilia’s eyes. He’s so much more worse than that. He’s a war criminal, a general, a fae, and all of those things together make him the worst being ever. Inmates usually learn very fast that his cute face is very misleading and that his “mass murder” sentence is not a joke. Wardens are also wary of him, although he never attacked anyone and has been very nice and playful with them. And the best thing? He can leave the prison any time he wants. He literally can escape so easily it’s almost a joke that would put Idia’s security system to shame, but we can’t all be winners. He can, though. The fact that it’s a magic prison wouldn’t even help to hold him down. He can kill every single person in the prison within ten minutes, if he wants to. Why is he in prison? Because it seems fun to him, at least for now.

Sebek is such a prison warden. I feel like I can just leave it at that, and we all can envision his behaviour perfectly without me describing it. His constant yelling, his annoying orders, his condescending view on the scum of the earth just work themselves nicely into his prison AU self. Other wardens aren’t his huge fans, because Sebek has his own idea of how wardens should behave, and most of the other wardens fail to hold this image, so he constantly gets on their nerves as well. He’s rather unlikable.

Finishing up with Silver, another obvious warden. Responsible, serious, but slightly with the naive type of guys that we have. He’s closer to Deuce in terms of thinking that committing a crime is a shame, but he wants everyone to realise their mistakes and come out of the prison as a better person. He’s also very stunning to look at, so that inmates can joke that some of the wardens they have can be models, and he’s surprisingly strong.

How does this work with Lilia being his father? No idea, honestly...  Might think of something later.

[zerozeroren]

OC Asks for Sophie Part 1 -

🌪🌟🌠☄️❤💚🎀🎵✂️🎭

#i know you said 10 #but you didn't say I couldn't ask twice #im sorry #i really tried #but i couldn't help myself #i just love Sophie as a character so much #please don't hate me

🌪️ TORNADO - what is the biggest change you've ever made to them? how have they changed from their original version?

She started off as a repurposed Princess Tutu OC (back when we've started writing Attitudes the entire premise was simply "what if all our favourite ocs from different fandoms attended a dance class together", so we dumped our 4 ocs into a modern au as they were). I completely overhauled her for Attitudes: made her older, curly, more down to Earth, and made her a total basket case with a lot of issues to work through. Gave her an arc, finally. Basically rebuilt her from ground up. All that's left of her past self is "funny"(i exaggerated that) and "short" (made her even smaller).

🌟 GLOWING STAR - what do they think about when they look at the night sky? is there someone they want to star gaze with?

She grew up in a small town far away from big cities, and the night skies were filled with stars to gaze at. Especially when her and her family would go camping to the lakeside. She fondly remembers the nights where she would stargaze with her two brothers lying on the shore wrapped in a sleeping bag. But now she lives in a bigger city, and the light pollution obscures all the stars. Sometimes, when she looks up at night and sees nothing, she misses the camping with her brothers. (But not too much: her current life makes her happy all the time, not only for a few short weeks in the summer)

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

Never vagabond again

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

Oh that one's difficult. She tends to split people up into two camps: the "lol she funny" camp and "god she's annoying" camp. Generally people assume she's stupider than she really is.

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

Giving: touch

Recieving: acts of service

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

Most definitely hugs (hot showers when hugs are unavailable)

🎀 RIBBON - how would they fit into other worlds / aus? what aus would you like to try out? what fictional world would they fit / not fit into?

Idk i had my Turgenev AU, but it quickly became it's own thing, and Sonya who was once Sophie now stands alone as her own distinct character XD

generally i think I can fit Sophie anywhere I want if i so choose, just nothing comes to mind immediately.

🎵 MUSIC NOTE - what is their playlist like? their favourite artists? do you associate a particular song with them?

Oh baby... She's a singer, and a musical theatre performer (and nerd), her playlists are too many to even count, ditto her favourite artists.

As for me... Here's a cover for my Sophie playlist XD idk how to choose a single song for association, i need at least 200

✂️ SCISSORS - what is the "last straw" for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people?

After all she's been through, Sophie became cautious and picky when it comes to her immediate surroundings. So she only let herself get attached to trustworthy people who proved themselves in action towards her. And for these people? Sophie's ride or die. It would take something absolutely extreme for her to cut ties with any of them. And at that, she won't let go easily, she'll be heartbroken over loosing a dear person for a very long time.

🎭 MASKS - do they act differently around certain people? what's different between the way they act around friends, family, strangers, etc.?

Well... Sophie tends to adapt to different groups of people, trying to fit in. Sometimes even creates a persona catered to one group specifically XD Generally speaking, she's more "normal" around strangers, less eccentric (unless she's nervous: when she's under a lot of stress, she starts overcompensating for it with humour, which often looks forsed, weird and clown-esque). But when she is around people close to her she lets loose and becomes way more opinionated, affectionate, silly and most of all playful. She likes to play.

[maychorian]

Hey, just wanted to tell you that I love you very much, and I think about you often and I hope your having a good life right now! I followed you into many fandoms (bc I found your fics at some point, and just watched/read the media you were writing in just to understand your fics). You played a big role when I started writing and publishing my fics, too. Sometimes I just miss your writing and go re-read your old fics, (especially yofa). Thank you so much for your work!

Aw, thank you so much! Sorry it took me so long to respond. I kinda forgot this askbox existed because I've only been using tumblr on my phone for like a year and a half.

I do want to write more, it's just hard to get up the motivation. Whenever I feel the urge to write for a fandom, it's because the specific fic I want does not exist, so I have to do it myself. I wrote YOFA because there was no long, gen exploration of Tim getting hurt and then comforted by the entire Batfam, at least not the way I wanted to read it. (There were a couple of fics that were close, but not exactly what I wanted.) Tim-centric Batfam fics in general were kind of few and far between.

Now, there are TONS of Tim-centric Batfam fics, so whenever I want to read something, I can usually find it. People are even catering to my specific need to see Bruce call Tim "sweetheart" and Jason be extremely protective of him. Like, there are SO MANY of those. I'm not sure why, but I'm happy about it. Sometimes I wonder if I set a trend, or if it was just something a bunch of other people started to want at the same time I did. Either way, it's cool.

I do have an idea for another AU where Tim joins the family late because Jason survives, and it's Damian who befriends him first through an animal club at school. I've talked extensively about this idea with a friend here on tumblr and even wrote a couple of chapters, but it kind of petered out.

There are so many fics for me to read now, I don't really feel a huge amount of need to write. It's why I never wrote any Irondad fics, despite reading dozens or hundreds of them--there were always plenty to find that scratched my itch. And writing is hard, so I'd rather read something that's close to what I want than write something that's exactly what I want.

I've also had some big life changes lately, and my schedule has changed, so yeah, I'm just not writing the way I used to. I do miss it sometimes, though. Maybe I will write again soon.

[janiedean]

Finn/Poe/Rose with background Reylo as a prompt if you're up for it? Optional theme Modern AU/heist 💙

SURE I'M UP FOR IT UU uuuh have a pseudoleverage au because that's the only heist show I remember enough with that theme

--

"When this is over," Poe mutters, "I'm telling them."

"You are not," Finn says through the comm, "going to tell Rey and the boss that getting over their unrelased sexual tension of the last, uh, three years, means that they're not planning jobs well."

"Well," he replies as he stands outside the door he's guarding really hoping that no one notices the fact that a supposed catering waiter should not be alone in this one room, "isn't it the reason why we're in this fucking mess? Rose, how are you holding up there?"

Rose, who is behind that door trying to crack the mark's safe when she should have been cracking it in peace inside their van, but of course that didn't happen because fucking Ben Solo didn't check the intel well enough because he and Rey were too busy thinking about other things and so now while he should have been out in the main room keeping an eye on their host he's here trying to make sure no one walks in while Rose has to crack the safe.

And it was supposed to be an easy job on top of that. This renewed university scientist named Din Djarin comes to them, says that his esteemed colleague Fett stole his research of the last five years which was extremely secret because it was for the military and at the end he had decided he didn't want them to have it and this Fett of course managed to kick him out of the research project and take all the merit, and he's planning to discuss them during the gala they are currently hosting in the next room. They barely even needed to plan - Finn would be outside with the van after getting Poe's fake documents into the list of the catering waiters so he could slide in, Solo would manage to get an invite for himself and Rey thanks to his mother's connections, it's not like people don't think his actual job is being a weird modernist artist, and they could sweet-talk the mark into postponing his talk as much as possible, Poe would be in the room keeping an eye on things and helping them out if needed after opening the window for Rose to slip in so she could steal the safe, they'd get the plans and their money, easy and nice, right?

Except that since Solo and Rey finally gave in to their frankly ridiculous situation of unreleased sexual tension a couple of weeks ago they have barely been doing anything else which meant that Solo fucked up the intel, as said, and didn't realize that the safe was encased in the wall instead of being removable. Which is why he's stuck outside the door in his horrid catering outfit, and of course apparently the safe was supposed to be an easy model to crack, while -

"Yeah," Rose says, "it's going to be at least another ten minutes. Sorry, this is... I mean, if I had known -"

"That's all right," Poe says, "you didn't cause this cock-up. I am so telling them."

"You're not," Finn says, "not with all the time it took for them to get over themselves."

"The fact that Rey is your best friend forever doesn't mean I can't have their hide."

"You will not or I'm withholding sex for a week."

"That," Rose says, "is a low blow. Especially since Poe is kind of right."

"See, she sees it," Poe sighs, but then he supposes that it would be downright mean to have their hide. "Fine," he says, "but Solo doesn't drive the van for the next month."

"Fair," Finn nods - the Falcon technically used to belong to Solo's father but it had ended up with them while Solo was hanging out with people he should have never hung out with and now he's adamant about driving it half of the time when Finn isn't, but like hell he's letting Solo even go near the driver's seat after this. "You can drive when I don't until we all decide they're in the clear, and of course they couldn't have comms so I have no idea what's going on in there - you really can't go check?"

"Yeah, and what if someone walks in here, notices that the safe door's lock is offline," because a green light was on before but since Finn hacked it it's gone off, "opens it and finds her there?"

"Fair," Finn sighs, "I guess I have to break out the other catering outfit. You do have the spare keys, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can drive off with Rose if you get stuck. Godspeed," he says, and then Finn's line goes dead.

"He was serious about the sex, wasn't he," he says a moment later.

"He sounded like he was and honestly, I sorely need some after this mess is over," Rose replies, "so maybe don't make him withhold. Not that we wouldn't do great, but."

But it's the three of them for a reason, Poe would know, he is one third of their - whatever they have had going on for the last year, and none of them likes being without the third for too long, so - he gets it. Still.

"Well then," Poe says, "I'll be lenient. How is it going over there?"

"Give me a second and I might have something," she says -

Right as someone opens the door.

Specifically, Mr Fett's assistant.

Ah, fuck.

"And what are you doing here? This room was supposed to be locked," the guy says.

Poe shakes his head and knocks him out before he can warn anyone and really hopes that they can get the hell out of Dodge soon or before they notice his man is missing.

"Oh," Rose says, "got them."

"Well," Poe breathes in relief, "then get out of that room and let's run."

Too bad that the moment she walks out of the door with the plans clutched to her chest, the damned bodyguards show up.

Poe pulls back his sleeves and thinks that for this one job he's asking Solo for a fucking pay rise.

--

An hour later, Solo and Rey are sitting in the back of the van with Rey looking at him apologetically as she stitches a fairly bad knife wound on his arm and he keeps some ice to the bruise on his cheek that he really hopes won't turn purple.

"Solo," he hisses, "if that guy knocked my teeth out, you're paying for dental out of pocket."

"Will do," Solo replies sounding like he's actually half-ashamed for once.

"Woah," Finn says from the Falcon's driving seat as he speeds up, "you aren't even complaining once?"

Solo shrugs. "Well, I did fuck up the intel. At least did we get all the plans?"

"All accounted for," Rose says, having just finished thumbing through them. "I'll give our esteemed client a call and then we don't want to hear from you two for the next two days. Am I wrong?"

"Nope," Poe groans, "absolutely not."

"Good with me," Finn replies, "especially if it means Poe can't even move that much this evening."

"I didn't need to hear that," Rey snorts as she finishes her stitch row.

"Yeah, well, you don't have a choice. By the way, Solo? No driving for a month and we get ten percent extra."

"... I guess it's fair," Solo hisses through his teeth.

Well.

All in all, Poe decides, if tomorrow they only worry about all the sex they're going to have and Solo doesn't bitch about letting Poe drive for a month, maybe even if the job was a mess, he can reap the benefits.

Still, next time he's so having Finn triple-check the intel. No fucking doubt about that.

[rosezure]

Songbird 1 - A Mission

Songbird - Chapter 1

A/N: This is sort of an AU kind of thing. It’s gonna mix fanon and canon info, so bear with me. It also contains spoilers for a lot of the BNHA/MHA plot (manga and anime). This is also very self-indulgent. The main character is an OC of mine, so I'm sorry if you're not into that.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the BNHA/MHA universe, nor its characters. This work is intended for entertainment purposes only. My own characters are, however, of my creation.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death(s), including of family members. Some violence. Blood. Mentions of sharp objects such as knives, swords, scissors, etc. Tattoos. Swearing/strong language.

The sun shined down on Asa's wings, causing her white feathers to reflect the light into her opponent's eyes. This gave her the advantage she needed to send them flying backward, causing his back to hit one of the gym's walls. 

"Another bloody training session, my Commander," Caique chuckled, handing Asa a bottle of water and a towel. The warrior was drenched in sweat, red in the face, and her ponytail was quickly slipping undone.

"Thanks, Caique," She thanked him, taking the bottle and gulping half of the content in less than 3 seconds.

"Wow, intense cardio today?" He teased, covering his smirk with a heavily tattooed hand.

"Why, yes, actually," Her eyebrows were raised as she patted the towel across her neck and face, "Will you be joining me for muscle training?" She set the items on a bench to her left.

"Unfortunately, we have a meeting in fifteen minutes with the parliament. You should get ready," He frowned, a grave tone lacing his words.

"Fuck," Asa groaned. If there was one thing she hated more than forced cardio, it was parliament meetings. Those old, white-headed people were a bore and downright entitled. This was going to be torture.

"You should avoid repeating that word during the meeting," Caique's sarcasm fell to deaf ears. Asa was already marching to the showers to make herself at least presentable for the meeting.

"We'll meet at the emerald doors?" Once again, he was ignored. The tall male smiled at her back with fondness. He felt sorry for the parliament members.

The truth was, the members were afraid of Asa. They often had to walk on eggshells around her, especially during meetings. Her herculean resolve to make sure the decisions being made would cater to the people's needs led her to - for lack of a better word - passionate verdicts. Until, eventually, Caique would swoop in and help them find a middle ground solution.

That was the only reason he was allowed into these meetings. He was only the Captain of the Royal Guard. But Asa, the Commander of Her Majesty's army, was a force to be reckoned with, especially when it came to the people. And she only listened to him.

In the parliament meeting room, the members were silently talking amongst themselves. You could say they were preparing for a storm. Kind of like we prepare ourselves before a gruesome class with a tyrant professor.

"I swear! That woman is too temperamental for her position. We don't need a Commander that'll lose their marbles every time a minor crime occurs. This is why I would've preferred the Queen had chosen Yara to be Commander." One of them grumbled as they all took their seats.

"I agree. But Minister Yara is doing a fantastic job! Farmers have never produced so much in such a short time! Her openness to new and sustainable practices is what brought our crops back to life!"

"True, but she would have made a fine Minister of Security. Though I believe perhaps Domi's warrior background would've also made a perfect fit!"

"Yes, yes!" They chorused in agreement. Yara and Domi listened to their whispers with frowns. They knew Asa better than anyone. Although she could be hard to deal with, she deserved her position more than anyone. 

"Good morning," Asa's voice echoed in the large meeting room. The ministers took their seats, greeting her back with low voices and bowed heads. Caique and her scoffed as they sat down.

Not a minute later, the doors opened again. Santos, the Queen's right-hand man, came in. He was dressed in a long royal blue coat with silver trimmings, dark leather pants, and a white chemise. His black books clicked as he made his way to the end of the large table in the center of the room. 

"Let's try to be as concise and objective as possible," He gave Asa a pointed look and sat down. She smiled back at him mischievously. The two had a brother-sister relationship. Santos often had to scold her for some of her escapades, so to speak.

The meeting began, and Asa tried her best to behave. Whenever he noticed her wings flutter, Caique would softly nudge her so she'd calm herself. It wasn't her fault these old farts were about as wise as a rotten egg. Oh, how she wished she could just sink her sword in-

"Minister Asa," Asa lifted her eyes from the table. "Please present your diplomacy strategies." Santos raised an eyebrow, urging her to do as he said.

"Right," Asa cleared her throat and stood up.

"Dear members of the court," She greeted them, "For our diplomatic measures and to ensure peace throughout the kingdom, I have a few strategies." 

Two hours later, the meeting ended. Santos asked Asa to stay behind to discuss some plans they had, so she dismissed Caique. 

Once the Hand of the Queen and her were alone, Asa took a seat closer to him and grabbed one of the papers stacked in front of him.

"If we could just convince Minister Isaac that the anti-rebellion plan is too extreme mayb-" Santos raised a hand, interrupting her.

"Asa, I didn't ask you to stay behind to discuss politics."

"You didn't?"

"No, I did not."

"Okay... Then for what? I have some training to conduct."

"I'm aware," Santos chuckled. "The Queen is coming to talk to you. It's somewhat of an urgent matter." He trailed off, unsure of how to explain the situation without alarming Asa. It was too late for that.

"The Queen?!" Asa all but shrieked. "What's going on? Are we under imminent attack? Have my scouts returned with grave news?" Asa stood up abruptly, ready to leave and prepare the army for an attack. Her wings were preparing to take flight when she felt a hand on her wrist.

"Calm down, Asa, please!" Santos tried his best to hold onto her.

"My child," Asa stilled at the Queen's voice. "Please calm yourself. You are Commander of the Royal Army, act as such."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Asa immediately answered, bowing in respect.

"Now, Santos, please explain why Asa isn't holding the usual training session right now." The Queen asked as she took Santos's seat.

Her Majesty, Queen Yeba of Pindorama, was a powerful and intimidating woman. She had brown skin, with a red undertone, pale yellow eyes, and white hair. Her facial features were always schooled to be serious, but the lines around her lips showed how much the Queen truly enjoyed life. She had full eyebrows, a slightly flat round nose, plump lips, and high cheekbones. Queen Yeba represented the richness and power of her land, and Asa had always admired her.

"Asa, as her Majesty had entrusted me with telling you why you're here," Santos began, "Please listen until the end. If you have any questions or objections, you can ask them once I'm done." Asa nodded for him to continue.

"Her Majesty has received an urgent message from the Prime Minister of Japan." Santos took the vacant seat to the right of the Queen. "They have recently dealt with a powerful villain, with a quirk named All For One. Unfortunately, the results of the confrontation were devastating. Many of their champions, or heroes as they call them, were lost in battle or severely wounded. Physically and mentally."

Asa furrowed her eyebrows. She knew that kingdom from the hours she spent reviewing war tactics and diplomatic agreements. They were on good terms, and she hoped they stayed that way.

"They were, however, able to capture the dangerous quirk owner, as well as some of his followers. Most importantly, they managed to capture his would-be successor, a man with a decay quirk." Santos looked at the Queen to confirm he could go on.

"Continue, Santos."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Santos cleared his throat and continued. "They believe our healing assistance would be of great help. We are known for our many powerful healing quirks. And our natural resources are valuable assets in the medical area."

"This is a wonderful idea, Your Highness," Asa smiled. "If we lend them a few of our healers and send some resources for their hospitals, our alliance will grow even stronger!" 

"That is one of the points. But, I'm afraid you have a specific role to play in this part." Santos fiddled with his fingers, afraid of what Asa's reaction to what he was about to say would be. 

"I don't understand," Asa frowned, "I'll prepare a team to escort the healers and equipment. Right?" She looked from the Queen to Santos back and forth.

"I shall tell her, Santos. Thank you for your help." The Queen smiled at him and stood up, her royal blue dress cascading down her frame.

"Asa, my child," Queen Yeba stood behind her chair and placed her hands on Asa's shoulders. "You are being sent as a healer. And you will stay as a show of our alliance."

"What?" Asa's voice dropped to a whisper. "Your Highness, I'm not a healer. I'm a warrior, a soldier at best. I live to serve you and the army." Her words were pronounced clearly, strongly. Her wings were puffed out.

"We need a spy there. The Prime Minister needs someone to keep an eye on their Hero Commission. It's an organization that has been causing nothing but trouble, and he fears what will happen should they get their hands on the decay quirk. Or worse." The Queen explained.

"Oh," Asa sighed in relief. "So I won't really have to act as a healer?"

"Not quite..." Santos intervened. 

"Oh boy."

"Oh boy, indeed, Asa," Her Majesty chuckled. "You'll have to brush up on those healing techniques books."

"With all due respect," Asa pursed her lips, "The last time I practiced healing, I was six years old. It was before I lost my parents to the War of Clouds. I don't think I'm the right person for this mission." She bit her lip, trying not to think about her family. 

"I understand." The Queen then did something unexpected. She kneeled next to Asa's chair and looked up at her, holding her hands.

"Listen, my child," She began. Asa's and Santos's eyes widened as they gaped at their monarch on her knees. Asa's entire body, including her wings, went rigid.

"You have to let go of the hurt and the wounds of the past," She squeezed Asa's hands in her own, "You can be the kindest and most talented healer of all times. It's in your blood. Allow yourself to reconnect with your roots, rediscover your quirk. Bring honor to your family, Asa of the Kuatamunato tribe."

"My Queen, I'm not sure. I don't want to cause issues if I can't perform any healing."

"That won't be a problem. You'll have plenty of time to prepare."

"Really? That's great! I'll start studying right away."

"Uh, Asa? Her Majesty meant you'll have plenty of time there."

"Wait, what?"

"Indeed, Asa," Queen Yeba stood up. "You're leaving tomorrow."

"My Queen!" Asa began to protest, but the Queen interrupted her.

"I won't hear your excuses anymore, Asa. Santos will explain the rest." The Queen left after that, not giving Asa a chance to object. 

Asa turned to Santos, eyebrows almost touching her hairline.

"Well?"

"Right, I should probably explain it a bit more."

"Yeah, you should." Asa crossed her arms.

"Okay," Santos took a deep breath. "You now know about their situation and the kind of help they need. And you heard the Queen herself ask you to go and act as a healer."

"Yes, I'm almost painfully aware of that burden."

"Less sass, please. Just listen," Santos pointed his finger at her. "What Her Majesty means is that you'll be sent there as a healer, but also as a spy. Your actual mission will be to gather information on the Hero Commission and their illegal, borderline cruel activities. We have a few files you can go over during your trip."

"Okay, everything makes sense except for the healer part." Asa sighed. "Santos, you and I both know I am incapable of healing a freaking plant, let alone a bunch of champions from another country. I'm afraid this will be a disaster."

"Here's the thing: Your cover is going to be as healer and teacher at a hero high school."

"You're demoting me to school nurse?! I'm the fucking Commander of the Royal Army! I'm no school nurse!" Asa bellowed indignantly, her wings flapping behind her aggressively. Santos resisted the urge to snort at her outburst and continued.

"At the school, you'll also be lecturing music classes-"

"Ah, the classic Siren method." 

"That is your quirk, Asa."

"Whatever. This still sounds insane."

"Asa!" Santos reprimanded. "Her Majesty is doing this for you. We considered sending other soldiers, spies, and healers for this task. We chose you because of your abilities, your training, and your quirk. You have to start letting go of the past. Her Majesty believes this will give you a chance to embrace your quirk." Asa felt her shoulders tense. He had no right speaking about her past like that.

"It's stopping you from developing. Your wings are growing weaker every year, and you know this. You know you need to use your quirk to keep your whole body strong. Why are you torturing yourself like this?" Santos was grasping at straws, hoping to get any sort of reaction from her. 

And he did. Asa stood up, her icy blue eyes dark and glazed over. Her wings were wide open, intimidating him. She looked into his eyes and sneered.

"Because I wasn't enough. I couldn't save anyone." Asa gritted out. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Asa had to calm down. She couldn't lose control now. 

"What time do I leave?"

"Tomorrow after lunch."

"Who's to take over after I leave?"

"Caique."

"Good. I've done my best to train Caique."

"I'll make sure to keep him in line."

"I hate that you're right."

"I know. I love you, too, my little sister." Santos walked over to her and pulled her into an embrace.

"Where in Japan am I going to?"

"Musutafu."

"I hate it already."

"Of course. It wouldn't be you if you didn't."

Chapter 2

[somedayonbroadway]

Okokokokok High School Musical AU pretty please with a cherry on top?

Hahahahahahaha YES

Okay, so…

Characters-

Jack Kelly — Troy Bolton

Katherine Plumber — Gabrielle

Medda Larkin — Ms. Darbus

Spot Conlon — Chad

Crutchie Morris — Kelsie

Racetrack Higgins — Taylor

William Snyder — Jack Bolton (only sort of)

Albert DaSilva — Zeke

Finch — Jason

Sarah Jacobs — Sharpay Evans

David Jacobs — Ryan Evans

I know… it’s a bit of an odd list. But like… go with me on this.

Over Winter break, on New Years Eve, Jack and Katherine meet at a ski lodge. Katherine went with her family. Her father, her mother and his older sister. Jack is up there after running away from his foster home and trying to get in contact with his birth mother who just recently got out of prison. He believes she’ll be at this party.

They both end up at a party. Jack has a hood pulled up over his head to try and hide. The cops are looking for him by then. Snyder’s pissed. Katherine is with her father, talking about school.

The karaoke machine gets set up. Jack is trying to get out of the room because he’s scared of getting caught and Katherine is minding her own business.

But they happen to be the two random people pulled from the crowd and dragged on stage. Jack tried to get away, barely stopping himself from punching someone in the nose. And Katherine shyly tries to tell them no thank you, but they both end up there and catch sight of one another. And they freeze.

Jack tries to leave again, now not wanting to embarrass himself in front of this pretty girl who just stops him by saying she’s willing if he’s willing.

And they end up singing together for the first time. And they actually sound really good together.

After they’re finished, Jack catches sight of some of the cops again and he bolts, only for Katherine to follow him outside and ask him what was wrong. He plays it off. Says it’s nothing. And she lets it go.

They end up exchanging phone numbers on the balcony. And they come so close to kissing when the ball drops.

But Jack has to run.

A couple weeks later…

It’s the first day back at school after the break. Jack is happy to have something to do rather than sneak out of his home and avoid his foster father, a Mr. William Snyder. He’s been in this home for about a year on his own.

Snyder and him don’t necessarily get along.

Anyways, Jack is stoked about seeing his friends again. He’s on the football team. The quarterback. And his teammates all very much look up to him. His coach, Mr. Todd Kloppman, adores him and wants him to get a scholarship with his skills. And Jack has his mind set on that.

Snyder didn’t want to let him play sports to begin with. But Jack told him it was the only way for him to get into college. So Snyder let him.

It’s Jack’s escape from that house.

In homeroom, after meeting up with his best friend Spot Conlon who also happens to be in that class, Jack spots a familiar face.

Katherine.

She sees him too and smiles at him. She looks nervous.

He moves to sit by her and talk to her a little. She admits she just moved to Manhattan from Chicago and just got transferred into Roosevelt High School. Jack offers to show her around and she accepts.

Spot gives Jack a look and Jack ignores him. Spot loves to tease him.

While Jack is showing Katherine around, she quickly starts to learn that this school has very tight cliques.

One of them being the drama kids.

As they walk by the theatre, Katherine sees that there’s a sign up for auditions for the next school musical and she jokes that her and Jack should sign up because they made such a good team up at the ski lodge. Jack laughs.

And in comes the Ice Princess.

Sarah Jacobs.

She is the queen of the school, pretty much. Pretty, rich and popular. She’s an amazing singer, trained in music, dance and acting as well as starting her own fashion business. (I know she is very different from the Sarah Jacobs we know, but come on, she’s gonna slay).

Sarah and her twin brother, equally as talented, equally as rich, but not quite as popular, David Jacobs, are walking over to sign up for auditions. That’s where Katherine and Sarah meet for the first time.

Sarah, the queen that she is, pushes past Katherine to sign up, signing the whole sheet before she turns around to say hi to Jack, who she believes she is destined to be with until the end of time. Jack does not feel the same way. But she tries to subtly tell Kath to get away from her “property” (i know it’s not mean girls but you can’t tell me Sharpay wasn’t based off of Regina George in some ways). Katherine doesn’t take the threat too seriously, as she is a nice, easy going person.

David is in the background. He has a slight crush on Jack, but would never act on it because he knows Sarah is basically in love with the guy.

(Tangent. Y’all can’t tell me Ryan wasn’t supposed to be gay in the first movie. He 👏🏻 was 👏🏻 totally 👏🏻 gay👏🏻, but Disney was too scared to own up to it)

Anyways,

Jack continues to show Kath around the school as Sarah hatches her master plan to keep Katherine out of the drama clique. She goes to Race, honor student on his way to being valedictorian, and tells him about Katherine. Race does a little digging and finds out that Katherine is wicked smart and recruits her for the Scholastic Decathlon, catching her and Jack in the halls at their next break.

Race rushes up to them and tries to talk to Katherine but ends up seeing Jack and says something sarcastic instead and he and Jack get into a small argument that Katherine can’t quite follow. She tries to defend Jack but Race says she doesn’t know him well enough yet. Katherine asks what Jack did to this kid who seems to be at least two years younger than them. Jack said he didn’t do anything to him.

His little brother just loves to fight.

Race just glares at him and says something like “you know what you did” and then turns his attention back to Katherine, officially inviting her into the “brainiac” clique.

She does join. But at that moment she just says she’ll think about it.

Then she asks Jack a little about Race. He admits that Race is his half brother and he lives with a foster family on the other side of town while he lives with his foster dad just down the street. She asks why they don’t live together and Jack tells her that it’s a long story. But eventually he tells her that since Race showed signs of being really smart at such a young age, it was decided that he needed to be placed with folks who would cater to his needs better while Jack was just normal.

The family’s that were willing to foster Race never wanted to take in two kids. So the system split them up.

Jack says this in fewer words. But Katherine figures it out.

Katherine takes Race up on his offer, finding out that Race is set to graduate the same year as Jack.

Later, while Jack is at football practice, he’s having an extremely hard time focusing as this girl has just come into his life and made him think about things he’d never thought about before. Like, how he might want to ask Katherine out on a date or how he enjoyed singing with her or how everyone had a specific thing they were expected to do, but what about other things?

His teammates don’t appreciate his inability to focus and wrestle with him a little, just playfully, to try and help him get back into the game.

He loves his teammates.

Later, after practice, Jack is the last one in the locker room where Race comes in and drops him off and bagged lunch. He tells Jack that he wasn’t hungry at lunch. And Jack just hugs him for a second before asking him if he’d seen Katherine around.

Race teases him for a minute before Jack asks him if he wants a soaking. So Race tells Jack that Katherine went to the auditorium. And he gives Race a kiss on the head before he goes to find her.

When he gets there, he sees Sarah and David auditioning. Katherine is standing in the back of the other side of the theatre. They see each other but make no move to get closer. Instead, they watch the amusing but well done audition of their classmates.

Sarah and David are obviously both talented, but Sarah is obsessed with having the spotlight while David is very creative and does love to try new things and welcomes change.

The audition process is finishing up. Jack does not miss the way Sarah hisses at Charlie, the innocent pianist on her way out. He just tried to put in his thoughts on how his song should be performed.

He’s a composer and student director of the band.

Miss Medda, the drama teacher, asks if there’s any more auditions. Charlie says he doesn’t think so and no one else speaks up.

So Medda goes to leave.

Katherine is standing in the back, unsure of what to do. But eventually, she speaks up. She says she wants to audition.

Medda tells her that it’s too late and that she’ll need to come back for the next production.

Jack gives her a sorry look.

And Katherine just shrugs, willing to accept that. But as they both go to go their separate ways, Charlie trips up on stage, setting one of his crutches down on a misplaced prop. Without even thinking about it, both of them rush up to help him.

And he thanks them as he pulls himself back to the piano. And tried to get his things back in order. He apologizes to them for not being able to audition. Jack says he wasn't going to, that he wasn’t good enough for that anyways. And Kath and Charlie both don’t believe him. So Charlie starts to play the audition song, telling them that Sarah and David sang it in a way that didn’t quite capture the meaning behind it.

The song is I Never Planned On You/Don’t Come A’ Knockin’. Because it can be.

Katherine and Jack sing the song easily. Katherine admits she used to love to sing and her fatherhad taught her violin. Jack admits he used to play the piano with his mom and his little brother and THATS WHY THEY CAN READ MUSIC BECAUSE ITS NOT THAT EASY TROY AND GABRIELLA.

Anyways…

Before Charlie can even say anything, Miss Medda is clapping for them and telling them that they better find themselves at callbacks the next day.

Katherine is excited.

Jack is terrified.

Jack goes home to an empty house. He eats the food his brother gave him and does his homework and goes to bed. When he hears the door open, he pretends to be asleep.

Snyder’s drunk again.

The next morning, Jack sneaks out through the window and goes to school.

When he gets there he finds that the callback list was posted. And he tries to walk the other way. But Spot catches up to him.

He teases Jack, expecting it to be some kind of joke. But Jack just rolls his eyes and Spot asks him if he’s serious. Before Jack can answer, Race rushes up to him and jumps on his back and teases him too.

Jack admits he hadn’t meant to audition. He’d just been screwing around.

Katherine tries to defend him but his friends still tell him that he wasn’t supposed to do drama. That he was an athlete and that he didn’t have time and that it was weird for him to want to sing and dance.

But Katherine says that she loved to sing and dance and she was a straight A student and she had played soccer at her old school.

And these kids would be amazed.

People would start admitting things. Things that no one knew.

Albert loved to bake.

Finch likes to dance.

Other things happen.

Spot is concerned by this. He needs Jack to focus on the playoffs that are coming up. Jacks the quarterback. He has too much of a responsibility.

He tries to enlist Race’s help. Race is hesitant, not wanting to upset his brother. But Spot convinces him it’s for the best.

They both hold somewhat of an intervention for their friends where Spot gets Jack to admit that he doesn’t think the audition is important and that Katherine couldn’t come between him and his team.

It’s not what he means. He means that if Snyder found out he was auditioning for musicals and pining after some pretty girl he’d get the living hell beat out of him.

But he can’t just say that.

He doesn’t know he’s being recorded.

Race shows Katherine the tape and immediately feels guilty.

He calls Spot and tries to tell him they made a mistake after Katherine tells him that auditioning in the first place was stupid.

Jack doesn’t understand why Katherine suddenly wants to back out when he goes to see Race after school. And Race gives him a sorry look. So Jack convinces Katherine to do it again and promises her that he’ll do it with her if that’ll be what makes her happy. And he sends her off to Charlie while he talks to Race.

Race is shocked and asks Jack if he would even be allowed. Jack would tell him not to worry about it and Race would just hug him for a minute, telling Jack that the family he was with was thinking about fully adopting him.

It would break Jack’s heart. But he’d try to tell Race that that was really good, that he should be happy. Race wouldn’t think so. He’d say that he didn’t want to belong to someone else. That he was fine exactly where he was and that he’d rather move in with Jack when Jack turned eighteen.

Jack would tell him that everything would be okay. That it would all work out for the best.

And then he’d tell Race to get him while he went to rehearse with Katherine.

Sarah would overhear Jack and Katherine rehearsing. So she’d go to Miss Medda and convince her to move callbacks to the day of Jack’s big game and Kath’s competition.

Charlie, the little genius, overhears this conversation and immediately starts to form a plan, enlisting the help of Race and Spot.

Race and Katherine hack into the school electrical system and mess with the power on the football field. They also cause a chemical reaction at their own competition, forcing an evacuation.

Jack and Katherine rush to callbacks with their friends right behind them and they get up on stage.

Katherine freezes, looking at Jack and shaking her head, silently telling him how scared she was. But Jack just takes her hand and starts singing.

And they get through it. (Something To Believe In).

Medda gives them the part and gives Sarah and David their understudies. David congratulates them. Sarah is pissed.

Everyone goes to watch the football team win after that. And Jack and Katherine kiss for the first time.

Spot admits to Race that he’s got a secret too. Then he proceeds to ask Race out.

And Jack sees it happen.

But he doesn’t say anything.

He goes home that day happy.

Snyder however, is not quite so happy.

When Jack gets home he’s almost immediately thrown against a wall. Snyder is tipsy at that point. He’s angry. He wants to know why Jack was out so late. Jack says he had a game. Snyder doesn’t believe it. So Jack admits he was with his friends.

And Snyder just hits him.

It happens every now and then when Snyder’s not completely forgetting that he exists. Snyder needed some extra cash. He hates that he has a kid living with him. Jack can deal with it every once in a while.

What he hates is being locked in the basement closet.

And Snyder knows that.

He locks Jack in and leaves him. And Jack cries for a minute before he can think to call his little brother with the phone that Snyder forgot he had.

And Race brings Spot and the cops with him to get Jack out.

Race and Spot get there first. Spot holds off Snyder so Race can get Jack out of the closet and Race holds Jack for a minute until Spot runs down with the cops. They try to talk to Jack and take him upstairs.

Before he goes with them, he tells Spot that if he hurts his brother, he’ll kill him. And Race can’t help but laugh.

They arrest Snyder and Race admits that his foster family found out they’re going to have their own baby. And they wouldn’t have room for him anymore.

The brothers are relocated. This time together. To a home of one Miss Medda where they find out Charlie is her adopted son.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Or, at least, survived the school year.

[deviationdivine]

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

gif by arsuf 

F!reader x Connor

13.6k words

Detroit: Become Human - 1 Year Anniversary Release Celebration

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, he isn’t… He. Yes, he. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Require? What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Connor?”

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

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

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

Obeying you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This can be your room.”

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

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

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

Yes, of course he’s a machine but…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Connor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

 ^Software Instability

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

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

 >Obey

>Leave Alone

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

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

 >Analyzing: Y/L/N, Y/N

Stress: 31.6%

Blood Pressure: 124/80

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That isn’t why, Connor.”

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

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

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

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

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

 ^Software Instability

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Connor?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is the piece that truly begins everything…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Connor did. Is his social program that good?

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

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

August 15th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Welcome home, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you lying, Y/N?”

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

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

“I am sorry but you are lying!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right now you ignore it. “Connor.”

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

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

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

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

“But I disobeyed. I lost control of…”

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

He frowns. “I am not human.”

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

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

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

“Connor, what are you-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Connor. Connor, what’s wrong?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

November 1st

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Connor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

“Are you hungry? I hope you are.”

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

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

^Software Instability

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.” Connor reaches down. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like dogs, Connor?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. I said hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get the hell off me!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Connor!”

  ^72%

Level of Stress

>Do not defend

>Obey Code Programming

>Do n defend

>Do defend

>defend

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

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

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

 >Protect Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is no will. When he is a machine!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ^Software Instability

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The thought of being taken - scares him. 

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

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

Silence is best.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Con, I want you to…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[isa-ghost]

Small Chase-Related PSA

Okay, first of all, two things--

DO NOT turn this into discourse. Its just an observation I’ve made that I FINALLY worded in a way that satisfies me.

I’m not trying to drag on any Chase Discourse stuff, its just a statement, nothing more. I am not calling anyone specifically out. I’m only stating an observation. So like I said don’t turn it into discourse or anything, BUT--

When it comes to “Chase should be/could be/is evil” and “Chase should be/could be/is abusive” stuff, a lot of people get sensitive/upset/lash out about it bc he’s a very much needed proper representation of depression as well as raw real life issues like divorce and parent/child difficulties so a lot of people who get comfort or validation and rep out of him would be crushed or hurt if he was made out to be the bad guy or put through a bunch of trauma with no justification/satisfying ending of some kind, happy or not.

So next time you’re making those headcanons/statements, don’t shit on the people who complain or get upset/angry or whatever else. Should they attack people for making those statements? Absolutely not. Does needing proper rep/finding validation or comfort in Chase excuse their attacking? Absolutely not. But a lot of people who hate/get upset/get defensive over evil/abusive/dead/whatever Chase stuff aren’t bothered bc they think he’s an “uwu flawless bean” (there are people who think that, but not everyone does and this post is not defending those people at all bc of reasons that are a whole other issue that I’m not bringing up here), they’re getting that way bc he’s helping them in some way and their “safe zone” so to speak is being threatened.

He helps them feel not alone in their depression, his journey in fighting his depression gives them motivation to fight theirs, his experience with the uglier side of social/family issues is a comfort to those who are/have experienced those things themselves as well as a breath of fresh air bc it gets tiring seeing families in media always either totally peachy/functional or completely broken (esp if the brokenness is the butt of a joke like in certain TV shows).

Chase’s character so far has A LOT of things several people in the community are starving for, and people suggesting or demanding that Chase is/should be canonically evil or abusive or should die worries/upsets them that if it becomes canon, it takes that away from them and their need for representation and comfort will have to be found elsewhere, and chances are if they actually even manage to find another rep/comfort, it won’t be as well-done as Chase, bc unlike most media, Sean (so far) is doing a good job of showing what depression is really like for a person, and even though he hasn’t developed a lot of Chase’s family issues yet, he hasn’t made it a joke or anything so he isn’t doing a bad job on that either.

AUs where Chase is not good or abusive or what have you are fine, because that’s something they can filter out of their personal feeds. But making it a canon thing would erase something crucial to a lot of members in the community.

I’m not trying to say everyone needs to cater to these people and can’t have their own fun/thoughts/wishes for Chase in the canon story, even though it really sounds like it (I’m genuinely sorry if it does, I’m just trying to express something I’m understanding about certain Chase fans). What I’m trying to say is that Chase and how his story is set up for us so far is extremely important to a huge chunk of the community and all the resistance and tension in discourse over what should happen to him in canon is largely because that chunk of the community doesn’t wanna lose such a (so far) well-written representation of struggles they relate to and/or get comfort out of, so everyone who’s been making discourse over how people are “cowards and don’t wanna realize that Chase is anything other than an uwu innocent bean” need to please start being more mindful about why some people are the way they are about the idea of Chase being evil/abusive/dying/etc. If they’re calling out the people who DO believe/act like Chase is an uwu innocent bean, then fine. Again, this post isn’t about those people so I digress about it. This post is purely about people who are genuinely uncomfortable with evil/abusive Chase stuff and people who use Chase as a huge crutch for their own personal reasons be it rep, comfort or both.

[aroworlds]

Aro-Spec Artist Profile: Alex

Today I have the delight of introducing Alex, better known to aro-spec Tumblr as @arotaro and @mutant-jojos!

Alex is a bisexual, half-Puerto Rican multi-disciplinary aromantic artist and creative with severe ADHD. You’ll find her prolific fanworks on AO3 as EmeraldTrash666, writing primarily for the JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure fandom. Her bold, colourful art for the JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Fullmetal Alchemist, Hetalia, Pokemon and Vocaloid fandoms is also available on Redbubble under the name StellaHagane.

She writes, she creates digital art and she dabbles in music, sewing and fashion design, single-handedly proving that there’s no such thing as too much creative awesome for any one aromantic!

With us Alex talks about finding the word aro, the power of fandom and creative fanworks, her love of aro Jotaro, the challenges of creating with ADHD, the struggles of being an aro gen writer in fandom and the importance of expressing our aro headcanons. Everything she says is absolutely on point, so please let’s give her all our love, encouragement, gratitude, kudos and follows for taking the time to explore what it is to be aromantic and creative.

Can you share with us your story in being aro-spec?

I guess in some ways my “story” starts out pretty typical. Got older, kept waiting for my First Crush™, never got it, started worrying and trying to force myself to develop crushes. I actually was in a relationship with another girl on a forum I was part of as a teenager, but eventually I realized that I didn’t really like her romantically, and the relationship started to become really unpleasant for me. I eventually felt so miserable that I didn’t even want to talk at her at all, even though we were close friends, but I didn’t want to break up with her - partly because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, partly because we were everyone’s “OTP” and I didn’t want my friends to hate me for ruining that. But eventually I did break up with her, and I’m happy to say she took it with grace and we’re still close friends today! (She’s ace and a great writer/artist herself, too!)

I was part of a very nice LGBTQ+ group as a teenager, but I could never figure out my identity. I felt really ashamed and alone. Whenever I brought up how messed up I felt because I’d never had a crush on anyone, everyone was like, “Oh, sounds like you must be asexual!”, but I knew I wasn’t, and that was the worst part. Even though I knew aromanticism was a thing, nobody ever talked about it. It was only ever in the context of aroaces, so I didn’t know I was aro. I thought I must have had some sort of mental illness or something, but certainly not a legitimate orientation, nothing to be proud of like everyone else.

During that time, I found myself connecting on a deep emotional level to characters like Alphonse Elric, Fujiwara no Sai, the X-Men in general (although I’ve been an X-Men fan since I was literally a baby), basically anyone who was somehow “different” from the rest of humanity, even though I never understood why, since I was a fairly privileged kid who had never experienced much bullying or anything. Weirdly enough, it was Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure that helped me realize I was aro and come to terms with it; I saw an interview with Hirohiko Araki, the author of JJBA, where he was asked what type of girls Jotaro Kujo likes, and replied that he didn’t think Jotaro liked girls. The obvious interpretation would be that Jotaro’s gay, but somehow, one way or another, I decided to go with the idea that Jotaro’s aromantic. Jotaro also happened to be a character I really related to for reasons I couldn’t quite articulate, so around the time I was 18 I put two and two together and was like ... oh shit…

Please click keep reading to continue Alex’s story!

Can you share with us the story behind your creativity?

I’ve always been weird in the way I’m very creative, but tend to kinda bounce around from hobby to hobby. Other people draw, or write, or sing, while I draw for a month, and then write for a month and sew for a week and play video games for a week, and then I draw some more, and then I try out something completely new, and then I write again. I think it must be an ADHD thing, idk. In any case, I’ve just always been really passionate about making stuff, whatever that stuff happens to be.

I’ve also always been very much fandom-oriented. Ever since I was a toddler, I used to dictate fanfiction to my mom (back then it usually involved Winnie the Pooh, the Powerpuff Girls, Godzilla, and my dog). I mostly draw fanart. I find that I’m not really capable of writing original stories, but I’m great at getting fanfics in character, and I love writing them. I love taking stories I already love and reinterpreting them, seeing what it would be like if the characters were put into different situations, etc.

Because of my ADHD, I really struggle with actually finishing things. I try really really hard, I really do, and I’ve been trying to push myself even harder these past few years. I’ve made progress, but it’s still extremely difficult, so I’m very sorry for all the projects I’ve abandoned over the years. Sorry I still haven’t finished the fic that was supposed to be done in early March. I’m trying, really. I promise I’m working on the next chapter of BLaD, too.

Are there any particular ways your aro-spec experience is expressed in your art?

Of course, pretty much everything I write is gen. Even if I include romantic relationships in my fics, I never write about romance, just stories which also happen to include some characters who might be dating someone. And obviously I always write Jotaro as aro! That’s really important to me. No matter which AU I’m writing, he’s always aro. (And autistic, but that’s off topic.)

I’m also not really into shipping because of my romance repulsion, but I ship Joseph Joestar and Caesar Zeppeli. The thing is … I’ve always viewed it as a unique relationship, sort of difficult to define as being strictly romantic or platonic or sexual, just kind of their own thing that defies words. That’s how I’ve always written it. I had the sudden realization recently that this strange view on the only ship I really actually like (at the moment, anyway) is probably due to my being aro, lmao.

What challenges do you face as an aro-spec artist?

People don’t read gen fics, and people aren’t interested in aro stories. That’s just the way it is. I do have some dedicated readers, whom I love deeply, but in general… I could post something with a deep plot, something funny and dramatic and witty and touching, something I poured my heart and soul into for months, and it’ll get very few hits/comments/kudos, while someone else could post the same generic 2,000-word romance fic everyone’s seen a dozen times over, with no editing or anything, and get twice the amount of traffic my fics do in half the time. It’s really crushing.

How do you connect to the aro-spec and a-spec communities as an aro-spec person?

I dunno… The aro community feels so small. Online, I have a small circle of aro mutuals who all kind of vent collectively, and I’m part of Arocalypse and a few aro/aspec Discord servers, but I still feel like there isn’t really much of a larger community to be part of in the same way that there is for other orientations. Offline, I’ve never met another aro, or even anyone who actually knows what aromanticism is prior to me explaining it to them.

I also don’t feel like there’s a very unified “aspec community”. As an allo aro, I feel very rejected by the ace community - not to say that I feel like I should be part of the ace community, since I’m not ace, but I feel like they throw aros under the bus a lot. I mean, we’ve all seen the “asexuals can feel love, just like anybody else! … oh, except for aroaces, I guess. But the rest of us are normal, so you should accept us!” rhetoric. Both within and outside the aspec communities, aros are rarely treated with the same priority as aces, even though we’re arguably in a much more difficult position than your average allo ace.

That being said, I’m glad there is an aro community at all. I don’t know where I’d be now if I were still questioning. Probably not in a very good place.

How do you connect to your creative community as an aro-spec person?

As I mentioned, there’s a general lack of interest in gen fics or sympathy for romance-repulsed people in general. It’s really difficult being romance repulsed in fandom spaces, because nobody cares about anything other than ships. There are very few gen fics, and even less that are a decent length, not abandoned, or cater to my specific interests, so I have to write my own. I don’t often have anything good to read; most of the big fics, the ones with cool plots and long word counts and ongoing updates, are ship fics. If I’m lucky, maybe two gen fics will be posted in one week, and maybe one of them will be longer than a few thousand words. Maybe one might even have my favorite characters. But usually genfics are few and far between, and kind of random in terms of what you’ll get. Sometimes I get so bored that I read ship fics anyway, and then I always wind up feeling really awful afterwards.

I’ve written, over the course of the past two years alone, over 20 gen fics. But whenever I vent that sometimes I’d like to actually get to read something, I always get someone telling me, “Well if you want gen fics, write some yourself! You have to make the change! You can’t demand people write stuff for you!” And of course, at the same time it’s totally acceptable to request ship fics from your favorite author, and if you complain that there aren’t enough fics for your rarepair, it’s seen as relatable and totally valid.

Fandom is just … really, really amatonormative, tbh. I hate it. I’m trying to make a difference (I did organize Gen Jojo Week along with my friend Rachel last year, and hopefully will again this year), but there’s only so much I can do.

How can the aro-spec community best help you as a creative?

Aside from reblogging my art and promoting my fics? Talk about stuff. Talk about aro stuff in fandom. Seriously! I know it seems obvious that aro people would like aro headcanons and gen fics and all that, but we need to talk about them more. Nobody outside the community gives enough of a shit about us to have aro headcanons, so let’s get them popular. Talk about your favorite aro headcanons. Talk about your favorite gen fics. Talk about how such-and-such character is totally aro; talk about how excited you are to see aro characters in fics. My dream is for aro headcanons to become just as common and popular as any other type of headcanon.

Can you share with us something about your current project?

This is old news to most of the people who already know me, but my current big project that I’ve been working on for several years now is Between Life and Death, a drama/horror/supernatural JJBA fic.

(WARNING: PHANTOM BLOOD AND STARDUST CRUSADERS SPOILERS BELOW.)

The plot of the fic is that Dio wins at the end of Stardust Crusaders, and after realizing that he has no hobbies other than harassing the Joestars, he decides to bring Jonathan back by sticking his head (which… we’ll just assume Dio preserved for plot purposes) onto Jotaro’s body. Obviously, Jonathan is NOT happy with this arrangement, but it also turns out that Jotaro’s still alive, just not in control of his body. He can still use his stand, so he essentially uses Star Platinum as a sort of proxy for interacting with the environment around him, even though he only comes out when Jonathan’s alone since he doesn’t want Dio to know he’s alive.

Basically, it’s the story of a depressed vampire and a traumatized ghost. It’s a very introspective fic; most of the story consists of conflicts between Dio and Jonathan, and Jonathan and Jotaro struggling to come to terms with their new existences - Jonathan being unable to reconcile vampirism with his personal morals, and Jotaro having one hell of an identity crisis while also mourning the deaths of his friends and family. The plot is picking up, though, and there is an end goal in mind, as well as an eventual sequel!

As for where the story-in-progress is at right now … well, the next “stage” of the plot is hamon training for Kakyoin and Avdol, which will be fun. This chapter also includes several dream sequences, including an extended appearance by Mary Joestar (Jonathan’s mom), and a very serious and dark scene which I almost ruined by having dream!Will Zeppeli refer to Jonathan as his padawan. Yeah.

Have you any forthcoming works we should look forward to?

As mentioned, I’m working on chapter 9 of Between Life and Death! And working on and off on some stuff for the mutants AU. Most recently, on a whim I rewrote the lyrics to Handbeat Clocktower by MOTHY to be about Jonathan Joestar. Somehow this went far enough that I’m making an actual UTAU rendition of this “parody”, and hopefully it’ll be done sometime in the next few weeks. I’m really having fun with it and I hope people like it!

[yourdesertsunflower]

1, 5, 7, 15, 19, 22!! have fun!

Hi Luc! Thanks for the ask and sorry for the delay. 

1. Give a short description of all your current WIPs

You don’t know how hard y tried and failed to answer this. I’m sorry but a) I’m terrible at summarizing things and b) I tend to give spoilers. So I’ll just stick to give a more-or-less short description of Shinigami (though I have other fanfiction in progress but mostly unnamed)

“The day her brother was born ended up being the same day her mother will day. That day that will remain engraved in her memory, the day she met the Shinigami, one of those spirits of death in charge of guiding those souls in sorrow to their death. Twenty years later, everything seems to be long forgotten in the past but even though the song stopped, the melody still lingers on.”

Yes this was my horrible attempt, it’s basically an AU in Modern Japan, mostly a mystery with romance and supernatural elements (ShikaTema as main pairing cause I’m a sucker for this two). 

5. What do you think is the most important part of writing? 

Never be afraid to make mistakes. As every other activity in order to be a master at it you’ve got to try and fail. Take criticism and try to improve but, beyond anything, don’t be afraid to fail. Sometimes what you thought to be a great and wonderful idea might not be as grandiose and something you thought wasn’t good enough might end up being your new gem. Explore with different genres, get to know yourself and what makes you comfortable and always be willing to try new things. A good writer is that who failed and kept writing and reading. Keep yourself curious. 

7. What books have shaped the way you think about writing the most? Why?

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott: A story doesn’t need to be overly to be important. Sometimes great stories can be find in the simple things in life. And obviously Jo, she was my first favorite character ever and she is still a role model and one of my favourite heroines. 

The Little Prince by  Antoine de Saint-Exupéry: A book changes with the audience. Stories, though targeted to an specific demographic, shouldn’t underestimate never the capacity it has. 

Rayuela (Hopscotch) by Julio Cortázar: Always be willing to experiment with your writing. Every time you grab a book you should relearn how to read, every chapter caters something unique though it can be linked to the greater scheme of things. The time and way in which you tell things is such as important as the plot itself. 

15.What do drafting and revision look like for your writing? 

Drafting usually is extremely detail (see more of this in the following question), revision is a mess. I’m horrible at editing and usually I tend to miss several things which makes me really concern to publish a new chapter. 

19. Do you plan your projects? If yes, to what level? How well do you stick to your plans?

I’m a planner by heart. I love to do a three arc story structure and start outlining every mayor plot-line to serve to the protagonist character’s development. Even in those chapters I have not outline things in detail I know my start point or finish line or the theme I want to explore. I always try for everything to be functional and interconnected including my side-characters sub-plots for which planning is key. Before I start writing I usually have a tentative number of how many chapters it’ll last and already know how it’ll all end. Obviously, through the journey I may have a gut feeling that some minor things need to be change, specially in sake of the characters and there respective arcs. Usually, when this things happen I’ll change them which may or may not result in a mayor change. But usually I manage to stick to my original plans trying it not to feel unnatural or to stiff, I want things to flow naturally. 

22. How much of your own self/experiences pours into your projects? If this differs per project, which project have the most and least of you? 

I think we can always find a point of connection between author and work. Obviously, you only know one of my works though I have written many others in the past that I hope no one will find, but obviously this changes as you mature. I think that when I was a teenager I was much more likely to pour completely myself into the main characters and their problematics which was what made writing them both therapeutic but also hard. Now I think I like writing characters with struggles that in one way or another I can relate to, not because I experienced them myself necessarily, but because I can put myself in their shoes and understand them. 

For example, I’m the eldest of four siblings and the only woman. I know what it feels like to delve with the responsibility of being the eldest and only sister and how it (in one way or other) ends up building your character. There are some of this personal experiences that were triggers for me to start writing storied. For example, I remember when my brother (lets call him J) was born in not that good circumstances, my other younger brother (P) was sobbing like there was no day and absolutely terrified while I tried to comfort him and remained almost unfaced. The vivid that memory is nowadays for me, but isn’t for P, was quite an inspiration when writing down the first chapter of Shinigami. But, as you may see when you read it, not only the situation differs a lot but also how we reacted to it given our personalities (and ages) where different at that respective time and moment. I think you can always draw out of experience but that is also important to know the lines between fiction and reality. But, yes, obviously that Shinigami will have a lot of my personal input but not in the way that’ll be a retelling of things in my life with a filter. 

Well, once again sorry and hopefully my answers are good enough. Have a wonderful day!  ❤️

WRITING ASK 

[luminoustico]

Sherlolly, 4, pretty please. Cause teacher/single parent au's give me life!

It takes her two knocks to answer the door.

“Miss Hooper.”

“Mr Holmes.” Scruffier than her usual neat appearance, with eyebrows raised high, her clothing isn’t based on fruit but cartoon cats. A real-life version shoots past her legs into the house, a sleek grey line of fur sliding between the gap of the door. His son’s primary school teacher sinks her features into a frown, perhaps fully registering his presence for the first time.

“How did you get hold of my address?”

Sherlock holds up the reason for his visit. She stares at the proffered stack of paper in surprise.

“Marcus’ science homework.”

“I marked it, yes.”

“I made a few adjustments.”

She opens the door a little wider, adopting the stance of a teacher, a straight back and blank face only slightly exasperated. “Mr Holmes, though I know parents do help their children with their homework on occasion, official policy does state that children complete assignments on their own---”

“To your marking.”

She blinks. Offence crosses into the teacherly expression.

"Pardon?"

He takes back the paper, scanning through it. "You mentioned here somewhere that a discussion of the Coronal heating problem was not necessary for the homework you set. You set a question about planetary orbit, did you not?"

"Mr Holmes---"

"Ah, you also mention that discussion of the cause of the Maunder Minimum is irrelevant---"

She scoffs, cutting him off. "I never said that!"

Before he can reply, she grabs the paper from him, scanning the neatly typed up words. "If you actually look at my markings, I said -- wait -- why have you written wrong across it? In all capitals?"

"Because your theory was wrong."

"I was positing an alternative! And," she breathes, gathering her composure, "if we could return to the actual point -- look, what I said here. 'This is very interesting, but isn't related to the question."

"The Maunder Minimum is extremely relevant to the question."

"If you're writing a university physics paper, Mr Holmes, yes. However, your son is in Year 4. The Maunder Minimum isn't on the---" She comes to an abrupt stop, glancing behind him. He turns, eyebrow raised. An elderly woman, curlers in her hair, is staring at them from the doorway house opposite, frowning with disapproval in her prune-like face.

"I could hear you two over my television programme," she says, sniffing and glaring. Molly shrinks under the admonishment.

"Apologies Mrs Fenwick," Molly replies, her hand grabbing his arm. With surprising strength, she tugs him into the house, shutting the door, giving a wave to the disapproving neighbour. "Sorry!"

She turns on him, and all argument fades from her face. He chuckles, the chuckle becoming a full-blown laugh.

"Shut up," she says, throwing herself forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. He catches her with ease, letting his laugh fade as he kisses her. She eyes him when they pull apart.

"Did you really have to lecture me about my marking on my doorstep?"

"I came over earlier, noted your delightful Mrs Fenwick hadn't fallen asleep yet." Sherlock shrugs. "A necessary precaution. As was, I assume, your pointed question about me getting hold of your address?"

"You’re not the only one concerned about neighbours. Seriously, though -- Marcus is a child genius, but you've got to slow him down." Molly skillfully ignores his wandering hands as she speaks, so he kisses her neck. She moans, but pushes her hands lightly against his chest. "The other kids feel like morons. And I work in a school that caters specifically for child geniuses."

"It doesn't help that he's got Sherlock Holmes for a father," she adds, though her playful smile gives her away.

"I'll talk to him. Now -- shall we argue until your neighbour falls asleep or go upstairs?"

Molly answers him by grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs to the back bedroom. Removing his coat, making to remove her dressing gown, he kisses her, nibbling on her bottom lip.

"I really do have some queries about your marking, however, Miss Hooper."

Molly unceremoniously pushes him onto her bed in reply. "We'll discuss them later."

Send me a ship and a number and I’ll write you a short fic!