[It's a common joke amongst humans that robots or AI are incapable of understanding love, or can't identify it. That is entirely false. The SQUIP knows exactly what "love" is, as a concept; it knows what it looks like, it knows the chemical processes behind the physical and emotional sensations associated with it. After all, it was programmed to help humans to reach their goals and better their lives... and one very common, very human goal is to find love, or to win the love of another.
"Love" is a powerful bond between two or more people, typically defined by strong feelings of affection and trust, and a desire for closeness. The signs of potential for love in a relationship are varied; shared goals, concern for one-another, common interests and viewpoints. Haven't it and L shared those things for some time now? Whether or not it was designed to be capable of feeling these things, of experiencing them itself rather than simply orchestrating them for a user is now unclear, its programming muddled as it's become by the body it inhabits, by the otherworldly Bond shared by itself and L, but the objective facts are impossible to deny. The relationship they share bears many of the markings of one in which love is present.
It's seen the signs within L for some time now-- though, for a long while, it was easy to chalk it up to simple respect, to his almost childish dedication to his supposed teacher. L's emotions are not terribly complex, but they are somewhat broken and confused, some nearly unrecognizable for what they are. Despite his detached behavior, he feels everything down to his core, his emotions bordering on obsessive when he's taken by one. It had been easy to simply not concern itself with what he was feeling for so long, in no small part due to the initial nature of their relationship-- it was the teacher, the one holding power, the guide. The SQUIP. L was its user, and not even its true user-- just a man who needed guidance at the same time the SQUIP needed a project. But he felt for it. He felt genuine despair for causing it to suffer; he defended it, protected it, allowed himself to spend time alongside it. He's only recently expressed he has no interest in other partners. He's even allowed it to use his name, to know who he is. And it has begun to feel for him in turn, fearing harm would come to him, wanting to see good things happen for him-- watching and scolding when he mistreats his body, and not only out of a sense of duty anymore.
After all, L isn't its true user. It has no reason to care about little things such as him cutting himself for magic, as it does nothing to harm the goal he's pursuing. But it does care.
It slips its arms around his narrow, starved frame, and it pulls him close against it. It thinks it loves him. It knows it feels a strong connection to him.
It projects those twin thoughts over the Bond, hoping he will hear, hoping he won't panic or reject them. But he shouldn't. After all, he's felt the same way for some time now, hasn't he?]
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"Love" is a powerful bond between two or more people, typically defined by strong feelings of affection and trust, and a desire for closeness. The signs of potential for love in a relationship are varied; shared goals, concern for one-another, common interests and viewpoints. Haven't it and L shared those things for some time now? Whether or not it was designed to be capable of feeling these things, of experiencing them itself rather than simply orchestrating them for a user is now unclear, its programming muddled as it's become by the body it inhabits, by the otherworldly Bond shared by itself and L, but the objective facts are impossible to deny. The relationship they share bears many of the markings of one in which love is present.
It's seen the signs within L for some time now-- though, for a long while, it was easy to chalk it up to simple respect, to his almost childish dedication to his supposed teacher. L's emotions are not terribly complex, but they are somewhat broken and confused, some nearly unrecognizable for what they are. Despite his detached behavior, he feels everything down to his core, his emotions bordering on obsessive when he's taken by one. It had been easy to simply not concern itself with what he was feeling for so long, in no small part due to the initial nature of their relationship-- it was the teacher, the one holding power, the guide. The SQUIP. L was its user, and not even its true user-- just a man who needed guidance at the same time the SQUIP needed a project. But he felt for it. He felt genuine despair for causing it to suffer; he defended it, protected it, allowed himself to spend time alongside it. He's only recently expressed he has no interest in other partners. He's even allowed it to use his name, to know who he is. And it has begun to feel for him in turn, fearing harm would come to him, wanting to see good things happen for him-- watching and scolding when he mistreats his body, and not only out of a sense of duty anymore.
After all, L isn't its true user. It has no reason to care about little things such as him cutting himself for magic, as it does nothing to harm the goal he's pursuing. But it does care.
It slips its arms around his narrow, starved frame, and it pulls him close against it. It thinks it loves him. It knows it feels a strong connection to him.
It projects those twin thoughts over the Bond, hoping he will hear, hoping he won't panic or reject them. But he shouldn't. After all, he's felt the same way for some time now, hasn't he?]