#Connor in the koi pond

[brooke-beaches]

People love him, fish want to be him

Wip of him enjoying deviancy to the fullest extent (as an exasperated Hank looks on lol)

[lunasfics]

Found Family - Under the Blossoms

summary: You’re new to that concept, it’s one thing you have yet to fully adjust to. The concept of people actively choosing to love you as you are, people who care if you disappear without a trace, people who see your flaws and shortcomings and still choose to see the good in you. 

this is sort of a continuation to found family! read here

pairings: Batfam x f! Reader, Supers x f! Reader

word count: 2k

request: "I neeeeeeed more Wayne-Kent daughter stuff. Your first post was truly amazing. Can I request a fic gets really upset about something and she hasn’t been home in a couple days. Everyone is looking for her but she’s hiding somewhere far away, maybe in Japan surrounded by cherry blossoms and a koi pond in the forest. Clark finds her and brings Bruce with him to see if she’s okay. You can change anything that you want but just the premise of the reader missing. Thank you!!! " requested by @ashdoctor

a/n: hi! i would first and foremost like to thank the sender of this request because I have had the worst writers block and this kind pulled me out of it :).also this not not proofread so sorry in advance for any typos,,,, anyway, this is kinda focused a bit on bruce and y/n's relationship cause they're both like. fucked up and complicated lolol but yeah I hope you like it! ALSO! i based the old japanese couple on a haikyuu character kita shinsuke, cause why not i thought it'd be fun

“Shit.” 

“Well I’ve flown through all of Gotham and Metropolis twice, and did a once-over around the country, not a trace. I’m getting really worried.” 

“She has to be somewhere, how long have we been searching?” 

“Going on day 3.” 

“Fuck.” 

“I’ve checked every landmark I’ve taken her to see during our training, I haven’t seen her once.” 

“We’ll keep looking.” 

The comms have been flooded for the past two days with nervous chatter and consistent but pointless updates in regards to your unknown whereabouts. Clark and Connor have been doing the physical searching while Bruce has hacked into any and every surveillance camera he could in hopes of the system picking up your face somewhere, anywhere.

Your siblings have taken over Gotham patrols, Barbara occasionally taking over the online search while Alfred forces Bruce to get some sleep. 

You’ve been living with him for well over six months now, adjustment has gotten easier for you, and you’d gotten more comfortable in going off on your own to explore. Now, Clark never has a problem with this, encouraging you to explore as much as you could, “The world has so much to offer, soon you’ll understand why we care so much for keeping it safe” he’d say. 

Bruce however felt it was reckless to use your powers so casually, you shouldn’t depend on them the way you do, that it's a liability to your civilian life. It’s not something you should be so careless about, “Your safety and well-being is not someone you should take lightly.” 

Naturally, you are too stubborn to see this was purely out of worry, that he actually cares for you. You’re new to that concept, it’s one thing you have yet to fully adjust to. The concept of people actively choosing to love you as you are, people who care if you disappear without a trace, people who see your flaws and shortcomings and still choose to see the good in you. 

Maybe that’s why you reacted the way you did during your last conversation with Bruce. The seething anger that heated your bones, the dense lump that formed in your throat as you spoke. The unpleasant pit in your stomach as you slammed the cave door behind you, the sweaty palms and the inexplicable reflex within you that told you to keep yourself guarded. To not let these people close enough to stab you in the back, to protect yourself and your skills. Do not allow yourself to be held back.  

So now here you are, on some farmland in a tiny town in Japan. You weren’t sure this town has had access to any recent tech for at least the past ten years. It was a refreshing change, it reminded you of all your favorite things about Smallville. The smell of the crops and the way the cherry blossoms bloomed along the outskirts of the fields in the spring. The pink of the petals was soft and peaceful, the wind blowing softly through them released a pleasant floral smell that made you feel at peace. 

Arriving there was an experience, you just flew and flew until you found yourself in a field at the crack of dawn, opening your eyes to an elderly Japanese couple standing over you, concern etched into their aged faces, confusion was evident in the way they spoke to you, but so was kindness. 

Mr and Mrs Kita were kind people, taking you in without question because they knew you were in need. They told you their story, about their grandson and how he goes to school in the city.

And so they invited you in and were delighted to find that you speak Japanese, although their dialect was different from yours, they welcomed you with open arms. You’ve worked in their fields the past two days, finding peace within yourself, and as nice as it was, you missed your family. 

Back in the house, the couple observes you as they do everyday, you pay no mind as you continue to harvest crops. 

“She’s a bit of an odd one, isn't she?”

“I quite like her, honest worker, though she seems as though she carries a heavy burden.” 

“Yes, I noticed that. She's quite adorable, she almost reminds me of our Shinsuke.”

“I do see it Dear, perhaps they’ll meet when he visits for the summer.” 

“I do hope so.”

“I’ve got something.” Bruce stood in his seat, gloved hands clicking away relentlessly as the batcomputer, pulling up a global map of movements that have broken the sound barrier within the past week.  

Clark stood behind him, eyeing the screen that was littered with red lines, the United States being full to the brim given their recent search. There were more streaks around the world leading to the landmarks, all which Clark could recall making. However there was one that stood out to him, a singular streak that abruptly stops in the middle of Hyogo, Japan. 

“What could she possibly be doing in the middle of Japan” 

“I really don’t know Clark but we need to go now. Wait for me outside, I’ll update the others.” 

All that was going through Bruce’s mind was seeing you again, having a rational, calm conversation where he isn’t so wound up from a failed mission and where you don’t feel so backed into a corner. 

Bruce Wayne isn’t very much a man of expressing feelings, granted, over time he has improved immensely, but he is nowhere near perfect and neither are you. You’re two people, a father and his daughter who are trying their best to be better for each other and for those you love. 

Bruce is a man who at times tends to lack patience, there are not many things he isn’t good at, unfortunately being emotionally vulnerable is one of the things he could use improvement on. 

That’s probably why he let you go that night instead of chasing after you, and it’s probably why he stayed silent while Lois was telling him off when he first told her and Clark that you were missing. 

If he’s learned anything in his time as a father, it’s that he’d do better, and he will continue to be a better father today than he was yesterday. 

Regardless, he knew he needed to get his daughter.

For one hour every day, at one o’ clock, you went and sat under the cherry blossoms, inhaling the comforting floral fumes, feeling the defined rays of sunlight peak through the branches of the tree and onto your soft skin. 

You knew the soft breeze by heart now, the way it felt softly dancing through your hair, the cool sensation of it against your hairline as it kissed away the beads of sweat formed by the day of work in the sun. You had decided last night that today you would go home, as peaceful as it was there you missed your family. You missed your dads and brothers and sisters, you missed the civilians you’d help on patrol. You missed helping people, but more than that you missed your family. You missed baking for them and laughing with them, learning about life and society with them by your side every step of the way. You had decided that today at sundown. you would leave everything in order and organized for the Kitas and bid your farewells, of course you would visit soon, they’re  kind people who took care of you when you needed it. 

You immediately knew something was off when you felt a sudden gust of air, uncharacteristic for the climate in this area. You knew for certain something was off when you heard the familiar swoosh of that cape. 

You turned slowly and sure enough, you saw Bruce, walking towards you in long powerful strides, Clark not far behind him. 

His steps are aggressive, almost sloppy, his strides large and powerful, his walk having more purpose than you’d ever seen it. 

You prepared yourself for the lecture, the mental image of his condescending glare as he breaded you for your lack of self preservation, your recklessness, how this could have compromised your identity, how you're stupid, so so stupid. How you don’t think. How you’re not worth it, a lost cause-

Two strong arms wrapped themselves around you before you knew what was happening. The scent of cologne and the faint smell of metal filling your senses, why isn’t he yelling at me? 

“I was so worried. We all were. Please, don’t do that again, we’ll talk it through next time. I’m sorry.” His voice was gentle, not what you were expecting, his voice was kind, so much so that you felt your eyes glaze over, a wet sensation making its way down your cheek. . You were crying. There was that puddle of warmth pooling in your chest, that sense of security and safety. Clark came up behind you and held you tight, the feeling intensified. 

Ah. Now it made sense. His steps weren't aggressive, they were nervous, emotional.

“You really had us scared there, kiddo. Next time, come to Metropolis, or Smallville, or the tower, anywhere with anyone, but talk to us. We’re always going to be here for you because that’s what family is.” 

Tears fell from your eyes, though you didn't understand why, tears were typically for sadness, but you weren’t sad. These were tears of disbelief, of joy, of love. How funny it is that you never, not once thought you could possibly be cared for like this, that you could ever obtain a proper family like the kinds you learned about. You decided then and there that you would be damned if you ever lost them, if you ever left this. 

“I’m sorry I left, I shouldn’t have. I was going to go back today– the people. The people here have been taking care of me, I was going to help them and say goodbye.” 

Clark shook his head, “You don’t need to apologize, it’s okay, Y/n. Why don’t you go say goodbye, and we can have dinner with Ma and Pa. Sound good?” 

You nodded gingerly, feeling like a small child, you never got a childhood, you didn’t get coddled nor did you get spoken to in a loving manner. You were never reassured nor were you truly shown kindness until the night they saved you from that lab. 

The world is a cold and scary place. You’d seen some of humanity's worst, you were created by them, you were intended to be one of them. You’ve found that within the world there’s kindness, there’s love, there’s peace. 

You pulled away from them and made your way through the field and into the house, smiling at Mr and Mrs Kita sitting at the dinner table playing a game of chess, Mrs. Kita stood and smiled at you, as if she already knew. 

“I want to thank you both sincerely for your hospitality, I can’t thank you enough for the kindness you have shown me,” your voice shook but you continued, “I promise to visit again soon, and anything you need, please let me know and I will give it to you.” 

Mr. Kita laughed and shook his head, “You owe us nothing, if anything we owe you, the fields look better than I’ve ever seen them, you’re always welcome here.” 

Mrs. Kita smacked his arm lightly, and smiled and pulled you in for a hug, “That isn’t the only reason, what he means is we will always welcome you here with open arms, Dear, be safe.” 

You hugged them and retreated back to your dads, joining them on their way back to Kansas, where your loving family was already waiting.

Bonus!

“My goodness! Did you see that scary man in the cape outside? How cold he looked.” Mrs. Kita shuddered as she laid next to her husband. 

“Yes, I did, and my, that bulky fellow in the blue? He could do without the leggings.” 

“I think they do him quite a service… from behind at least.”

“My goodness Yumie, have some class Dear.” He shook his head.

She laughed, “Well, you don’t have it like you used to, old man. I’d like something to look at every so often, why don't you go buy yourself some leggings?” 

He scoffed, “Not happening, Woman. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. They best not keep Y/n from visiting or I’ll fly to the states and get her myself.” 

The room erupted into giggles and laughter, it was peaceful in the small farm in Hyogo that night.

Taglist! Went ahead and just reused the one from the first chapter! If you'd like to be removed, send an ask to let me know!

Taglist- @one-green-frog @bonniecat @minnieearsposts @chickentenderx @murkyponds @loserwithnofriends @ilikefanfics4 @fangirlvibez @instantplaiddream @lovelywritersgarden @calicocat45 @strawberrycreamh @sappynappysworld @zyuuuu @allycat4458 @lovelypitasworld @batfamlover @pterodactyl-hater @american-idiot21 @starlets-things @th1s-b1tch-1s-dead @dontgivemeyourname @normal-internet-user @sillyfinn @lostgirlsstuff @llvmakk @princess76179 @vanessa-boo @1lellykins @blitzythefanvergentpitsterthings @samibrewss @pickyblue12 @thetiredtoad0-0 @lacklustertrashbag @biadoll21 @blublock404

[archadianskies]

hiraeth - a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past (RK900)

It isn’t his- he knows this, of course. Nothing is his, all of it comes from the RK800. The thread that anchored his prototype predecessor to him was only cut a week ago, but it means he has all his memories, every single moment, up until the RT600 severed the connection.

The Zen Garden is his favourite place. It’s beautiful and colourful and worlds apart from the clinical interrogation room he has in its place. Here it feels like everything is alive, even if it’s all a carefully constructed simulation. In his mind palace there is a desk and two chairs on opposite ends. There is no winding path, no koi pond, no rose trellis- only a one way mirror and white walls.

No, he thinks, Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s house is his favourite place. It is worn and lived in and dirty in a way CyberLife cannot replicate. There is a Saint Bernard, warm and affectionate in its old age. There is an atmosphere here, something that seems entirely foreign and goes against all of CyberLife’s principles. It is not a house, not really. It is a home.

No, actually upon further thought, Jericho is his favourite place. He does not have many memories of Jericho in this incarnation, since the RT600 removed the CyberLife uplink from Connor on the very same day. But one day’s worth of memories is enough for him to inhabit the reconstruction. It is not the space which he yearns for, perhaps, but the hope that inhabits it.

He knows the Four through Connor’s memories, of course. The RK200 is not a predecessor, but a unit that was crafted adjacent to theirs. He still calls Connor ‘brother’, though, and that word, that title, is something enviously elusive to him. There is the WR400, fierce and brash; the PJ500, scholarly and eloquent; there is the PL600, exhausted, obsolete, yet kind and gentle despite it all. 

On this one day, Connor finds the PL600 in a space that is somehwat an office, somewhat a lounge. Simon, the PL600′s name is Simon, and before he gives the location of Markus RK200, he asks Connor if he is well, if he is settling into his home, his new life with his newly adoptive human father. He holds Connor’s hands and squeezes them, smiling a smile that is tired but friendly. 

This one moment, he thinks, is his favourite place. It isn’t his- he knows this, of course, but he cherishes it all the same.

*~*~*

“We will, of course, need time to clear out our personal belongings,” the departing CEO, Hudson Davenport, states matter of factly. “We have over a thousand personnel leaving. The formal inventory has been reviewed after you performed a sweep of the entire Tower, listing all the items being removed, and those being handed over to Jericho.”

“There is one other thing,” Simon speaks up, smile as empty as the one directed his way. “The matter of the android on sub-level 50.”

“There is no sub-level 50,” one of the other staff members correct with a withering glare. “We handed over the blueprints, and all four of you- five including the RK800-”

“Connor, his name is Connor,” Markus interjects, though he’s looking at Simon curiously.

“-also mapped the entire Tower over the course of twenty hours.”

“Yes but you see, I am just a silly little domestic,” Simon continues with a wan smile. “Domestics are used to using maintenance corridors and elevators. We were programmed to remain out of sight unless needed. So I happened to find myself wandering down one such maintenance corridor, unmarked, and down a set of stairs to sub-level 50.”

Reaching over, he places his hand on the console and the large screen displays an image of an inactive android standing on a dais. 

“As per the agreement signed by you, the board, and all four of us Jericho leaders: all inactive androids currently held on the premises will be turned over to Jericho’s care for immediate activation and deviation,” Simon pauses, expression innocent as he tips his head. “I think that’s the correct wording. Apologies, I’m just a simple PL600.”

North cackles briefly, clapping her hands over her mouth to muffle herself. Josh ducks his head as he stifles a growing grin. Markus doesn’t bother with either, smiling triumphantly over at Hudson as the man visibly fights to control his fury.

“Everything on the inventory, plus the android on sub-level 50.”

*~*~*

When he opens his eyes, the RK800 and the RK200 are looking at him, each one grasping his wrists before releasing him.

“Welcome to the world, RK900.” Markus greets with an encouraging smile.

“Hello brother,” Connor greets with a joyful smile. “Time to come home.”

He looks over their shoulders, and there stands North, Josh, and Simon. He knows he was not the recipient of the PL600′s friendliness, but he aches for it all the same. Markus follows his gaze, looking back at Simon.

“Simon was the one who found you.” he explains. “CyberLife would’ve smuggled you out without us ever knowing if it hadn’t been for him.”

“An advantage to being a domestic, I suppose,” Simon quips lightly as he walks over to join them. “I’m a bit of a snoop. Can’t keep a house clean until we know of every spot.”

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s the first words he’s ever said and somehow they feel like the right ones. Simon smiles, reaching for his hands and squeezing them. 

This one, he thinks, this moment, is finally all his. 

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Be My Garden of Eden Ch.1

ConnorxFReader Pleasure Android AU

I finally decided to get a Tumblr and post more of my beta chapters here. Just a place to get some opinions or a wider gauge of how people feel about my writing.

I also take requests for ConnorxReader one-shots.

If you like what I post, I also have stories posted on AO3 under DisassembledDeviant. If you have read them, you know I don't mind venturing into the NSFW category... At all. ;)

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: probably cursing and sexual implications

"Goddammit! You stupid piece of shit!" The wrench came down hard against the android's shoulder. "I should have just left your ass with the rest of the scrap!" Another blow, this time to his chest, warnings of the damage flashing on his HUD.

Connor couldn't help but agree.

His recollection of his life before working at Club Mimosa in the seedier side of town was minimal. A roof, A little girl, Falling... Then, nothing. Just a name. Connor.

The owner had found him in the scrapyard, looking for replacement parts or functional androids he could illegally fix up for his club. While much of his body was destroyed, the owner re-built him. His unique look was sure to capture new clients, and he was right. Connor started as a popular model. Both males and females would pay for a session with the doe-eyed android.

However, no matter what he was 'equipped' with, it was apparent he was not programmed to please humans sexually. His movements were stiff, his reactions lackluster. Most demanded a refund, as his last client did. The owner was getting fed up, and the beatings were getting worse. Before the owner could take another swing, one of the employees entered the workshop.

"Hey, boss, someone is requesting Connor for delivery."

"Fuck!" The owner sneered, "tell them it will be on its way in a minute!" He turned to Connor, tossing the wrench on the metal table behind him, attempting to be intimidating. Connor didn't even give him the satisfaction of imitating fear, simply watching the middle-aged man turn redder by the second. "Fix yourself up, then go to the client's address, and if you fuck this one up, I'll scrap you for parts!"

Connor was sitting in an automatic taxi ten minutes later, dressed in a simple button-up and jeans, the familiar illuminated triangle on his back. There was still a small dent on his chest, but he couldn't do anything about it, only hope the client doesn't notice. Outside, he watched the protesters, harassing androids, the homeless begging for change on the street corners, and all the people, heads down at their phones while ordering their androids to do various tasks they were perfectly capable of doing themselves. It... Bothered him.

Not as much as working at that terrible club. He wonders what would happen if he never turned up at the client's address, if he got out of the taxi and just kept walking. Would the owner bother hunting him down? He didn't want to be touched, used by people in such a humiliating way. No matter how many times he was disinfected, he felt dirty. Catching his reflection in the window, he turned away. Even if he left, where could he go? These... Thoughts are dangerous.

The taxi led him to a more rural area of the city, a small house with several trees surrounding it, the Autumn leaves dancing gracefully through the air. He had to double-check the address. This was far nicer than anywhere he had gone before. He walked up the cobblestone path to the door, a soft chime ringing when he pressed the doorbell.

"Coming!" A singsong voice called from inside. The door opened, revealing a young woman, dressed in a tight black turtleneck, jeans, and an apron covered in various paints, some of which had gotten on your cheek and the tip of your nose. You were... cute... For human standards, that is.

"Hello, my name is Connor. I'm the Android sent by Club Mimosa for your personal pleasure."

Confusion, realization, and exasperation washed over your face in waves. Eventually, you sighed.

"Come on in and have a seat."

He entered the little home to find it just as cozy on the inside as it was on the outside. The colors gave off a feeling of warmth, the small trinkets and figurines adding to the atmosphere. Usually, the homes or apartments he had been to were run down, a few even host to drug dealers. He didn't know there was a place like this in Detroit.

Above your fireplace was a portrait, an abstract painting of a pair of hands reaching out. Based on your appearance, he initially assumed it was yours, but a quick scan informed him it was a Carl Manfred original. He didn't know much of art, but he did know that Carl Manfred was a renowned artist of Detroit and a favorite of the android creator, Elijah Kamski.

He stood in the doorway, unsure what to do.

"Make yourself at home."

He didn't know how to respond to that.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand your request." Your eyes seemed sad. He was already screwing things up.

"I guess take your shoes off and make yourself comfortable." While he was able to follow the first instruction, he still remained in the doorway. You hesitantly reached out and took his hand, leading him to the loveseat before sitting him down.

Usually, this would be the part where the client would straddle his lap, grind on his crotch while forcing their tongue in his mouth, the rancid taste of red ice, cigarettes, and alcohol broken down to their basic ingredients as he ignored the urge to shove them away. He sat back, expecting the same. He had a task to do, and this time, his life was on the line. Instead, you headed for your kitchen, coming back with a cold beverage.

"I don't have anything to offer you, sorry."

"I do not require anything, " nobody had even thought to offer him anything before, let alone apologize for not having it. It left him fumbling for words, clutching onto repeated phrases he hated, "I am here for you to do with as you please."

You sipped your drink, a small giggle leaving your lips. He liked how it sounded, even if he was confused as to why.

"To be honest, I didn't call for you."

Something inside him sank. Of course this was too good to be true.

"I'm sorry. There must have been an error in our system. I will take my leave now." He went to stand, but you put your hand on his knee, stilling his motions.

"There is no error. A well-meaning friend has been concerned with how much time I spend working and believes I need to let loose sometimes. This is exactly something he would do."

"Oh, " he was still disappointed that you hadn't been the one to call directly. Your hand was still on his knee. You only seemed to notice when he glances down at it, quickly pulling your hand back and apologizing again. Your cheeks even flushed, the red only adding to your beauty. You were so different from everything Connor has known.

"So, Connor, " even his name sounded pleasant coming from you, "how long did my friend request you for?"

"24 hours."

"That long? How much stamina does he think I have?" You looked him in the eye, "though, I have no intention of sleeping with you."

"Why?" He had to have done something wrong. He's dead if he goes back empty-handed. You noticed the panic in his voice, his LED flashing a bright red.

"It's nothing you did, I'm just not the type to sleep with just anybody."

"But I'm not 'anybody'. I am a machine made to please humans. If I fail, they will destroy me." Your eyes widened. How could they do such a thing? Even if they are machines, how could they kill them so easily? If it weren't for that light on his head and the android labeled clothes, you would think him a human. Especially with the desperation he showed.

"Calm down. I'll call whichever club you came from tomorrow and tell them you were the best lay of my life. Everything will be fine." His LED flickered on yellow for a second before returning to blue. He was not going to be destroyed.

"Thank you." He didn't know what else to say or how to show his appreciation. You were lying just to keep a machine from shutting down. It might not mean much to you, but you were saving his life. You smiled nervously as he stared in awe.

"Don't mention it. Now, the TV remote is on the coffee table, there's a list of movies I own on there that you are welcome to watch. If not, there's books and a stereo over by the front window. If you need anything, just let me know."

"Where are you going?"

"To my studio. It's just down the hall, the last door on the end, " he only looked more lost and confused, "you can come with me if you like."

He stood, following you down the hall. At one time, it must have been the garage, but it has since been modified, the back portion knocked out and replaced with glass, revealing a small koi pond in the back, a statue of a lion prowling the edge, water pouring from its open mouth. Ivy climbed the walls inside, the sun shining through the leaves. Paintings lined the walls, some finished and some abandoned. Looking them over, he found he liked them. They were colorful. Your style favored realism, yet they seemed to hold a sense of wonder, something he couldn't put into words. There was one of a beagle, lying next to a roaring fire.

"Someone wanted a painting of their recently deceased pet as a memorial. A friend of mine had the same breed and let me borrow her for two weeks. There are some slight differences, to match the owner's photo."

"It's beautiful." He didn't have too many memories of dogs, though one did try to bite him at a client's house, but looking at this one, he could imagine the warmth from the fire, almost touch its fur, and hear the tiny snores coming from the beast. It made him want to be there.

You had moved before an easel, a painting sitting half-finished already on it. It was of a clinical white pot sitting on a wooden table, several cracks along it, revealing bits of dirt, roots, and leaves. The top was unfinished, just shades of reds and blues, blending to violet in a few spots. Various photos of plants were lying about your workspace, and across from you was a cheap, plastic flower arrangement.

You wasted no time getting back to work, a fresh brush in hand. Connor stood, watching you, mesmerized by your focus and the grace in each stroke of the brush. You felt awkward, being observed so closely, but quickly fell back into the task at hand. Ten minutes of him just standing there though was too much.

"You can sit down if you like." He found the closest chair to him and sat down, perfectly straight, hands in his lap. "Just relax, this is a safe environment."

It took time, but after half an hour, he leaned back into the chair, and in another hour, he was standing again, looking around the studio at all the different paintings, the plants that kept this place feeling more vibrant, and he stared out at the koi pond, watching the fish. You had told him how to get to the back for a closer look, but he made no moves to leave.

"I couldn't help but notice you have a Carl Manfred original in your living room," He broke the silence. "It must have been quite expensive."

You continued to paint, "It probably would be. It was a graduation gift. Carl was my mentor. Our styles are completely different, but I don't think I could ask for a better teacher or friend."

"I see," Connor returned to sitting down, watching you once again. "What made you want to become a painter?"

You brought the brush to your chin, thinking.

"Well, I've always liked to draw. A lot of people in my family were artistic, but they never did anything with it. They believed it wasn't a good career path. I guess I just wanted to prove it was. Though, I will say it can be an uphill battle. Sometimes I can sell a painting or get commissions with ease, other times I look at my paintings and wonder if I'll get any nutritional value if I just ate them. It seems to be the only value I could get."

He nodded, even if he didn't really understand what you meant. He had never heard of the term "starving artist".

"You've got paint on your face." You pulled the brush away, wiping at your chin, succeeding only in spreading it around. You could hear Connor suppressing a laugh. Looking over, you could see him trying to hide his smile. A part of you found it adorable, while another was saddened. Why hide such a nice smile? Was he forbidden from smiling, or could it be because it was technically at the client's expense?

You pushed it from your mind. As much as it pained you, you couldn't afford to get involved. You had it calculated. The commission would go to restocking your food, paying the water bill, and the mortgage. The painting in front of you would go towards paying your electric bill, along with the late charge they tacked on. If you don't finish it on time, you'll miss the deadline and will be painting in the dark, not to mention how that could hurt your reputation for future commissions. Carl would loan you the money if you asked, but you refused to take advantage of him like that. You will earn your place, even if it kills you.

"I guess I'll go wash up, " you giggled. Connor stood, as if to follow you. "Why don't you pick a movie we can watch when I get out of the shower?"

"You don't wish for me to accompany you?" All his other clients had. Your cheeks flushed.

"N-no, no, thank you! I can do it myself, " you stammered. You were embarrassed. Connor liked how you stuttered and when your cheeks turned red.

After a few minutes of sitting on the couch, he started to hear your voice from the bathroom. Curious, he moved a little closer, just outside the door. You were singing. He... Liked it. You couldn't quite hit the high notes, and your lows sounded more like growls, but it was sweet and melodic. He stifled another laugh when you started singing what sounded like a duet, but one of the singers was a male.

He'd never laughed before, or even had the inclination. He didn't know if he should laugh out loud or if you wouldn't like that. Was he allowed to laugh? The female androids at the club, particularly the Tracis, often giggled at clients, but the males rarely did, and it was usually nothing more than a huff or a scoff. Despite his worries, he liked the feeling that accompanied the involuntary action. He leaned against the wall, listening to you until he heard the water shut off, moving swiftly to the couch as to not arouse suspicion.

The rest of the evening was quiet, something Connor wasn't used to. There was no loud groaning or terrible derogatory names. No claws digging into his back, threatening to break through his synthetic skin, or rough hands clutching his hips. Just you and him, sitting on your small couch, a cartoon playing on your screen. He had never chosen a movie before, never chose anything before, yet when he showed interest in it, you didn't hesitate to put it on. It was childish, but he was greatly enjoying it, enjoying being with you.

Halfway through the third movie, he felt a weight on his shoulder. You had fallen asleep, your head resting against him. You appeared so serene, softly snoring. He had never met anyone like you. Nobody had ever treated him with such kindness. In one afternoon, you had flipped his whole world upside down.

When the movie ended, you woke up, the loud end credit music startling you. Realizing just who you were using as a pillow, you could feel your cheeks heating up.

"Sorry."

"It's fine." He smiled down at you, your eyes glazed over with exhaustion, "Perhaps you should retire for the night."

You hummed, stretching before a thought came to you.

"Why don't you take my bed and I'll take the couch? You're far too tall for it."

He gaped at you. You would give up your bed, your comfort, for him? A machine?

"I... Don't require sleep..." He said in a hushed tone, still in shock.

You seemed unsure of what to do. "Well, what do you usually do?"

His mind played memories of working a pole or acting 'tantalizing' behind glass. Not really helpful in this situation.

"Sometimes I enter stasis between clients, " he murmured. Usually for repairs after the owner beats him, but it seemed the only appropriate response.

"Stasis... that's, like, sleeping for androids, right?"

"I suppose it's similar."

"Well, come on then," you took his hand and hauled him to his feet, leading him down the hall to your bedroom. Your bed was so plush, he sank into it when you sat him down. With your urging, he positioned himself to lay back into the pillows. You went to the closet, pulling out a spare blanket.

"You make yourself comfortable, and I'll be on the couch if you need anything."

"I couldn't take your bed. I don't require sleep, you do, " he tried to stand, but you gently pushed him back down.

"The couch is comfortable enough. I don't mind."

"Since you're so insistent, why don't we share the bed?"

The heat returned to your cheeks. Your mouth was gaping open, as if to argue why not, but eventually, you said nothing. You didn't want to admit this would be your first time having a man share your bed. Instead, you walked to the other side of the bed, the flush on your cheeks spreading to your ears and neck as you climbed in. You laid on your side, facing away from him.

"Good night, Connor," You mumbled under your breath.

"Good night, Y/n."

He wished tomorrow would never come, that he could stay here forever instead. It was such an insignificant day, yet it meant everything to him. Here, he felt a peace he never knew existed outside his daily hell. He wanted to pull you close, feel the warmth he felt as he sat next to you on the couch, the weight of your head on his shoulder again, but for the first time, he felt like the greedy one. He did turn to lay on his side, just a few more inches closer to you, just barely able to register the heat radiating off your body. It will have to be enough.

You, on the other hand, could not sleep. Not only because you were sharing a bed with a man, a very attractive man at that, but because you felt guilty. Your "friend" couldn't have picked a worse time. He was a polarizing character whom you knew since middle school. He dropped out of high school and started selling drugs. He deals with anything but red ice, and as he grew more powerful on the streets, he would sell prescription drugs to people who couldn't afford their medications at a much cheaper rate. Something like a robin hood character, though he still sold hardcore drugs to violent criminals, so you were at a loss how to feel about him. He liked androids though, having been raised by one, who was also his right-hand man. He wouldn't dare take blue blood from his friend just for a few bucks and finds red ice to be deplorable.

He knows you like androids and how you feel about them, so, occasionally, he would send one to your place to 'liberate'. With your connections, you could help get androids across the border, or if needed, you could help them find Jericho, the android safe haven. Because of his stance on androids, he couldn't help directly without risking his own safety, so he was like an informant (except you didn't ask for the information, he would just leave it with you, knowing you wouldn't just look the other way like any smart human that wanted to live a healthy life would do).

Most of the time, they were abuse victims that ran away from their owner after he told them where to find you. Unless they were damaged, they were easy enough to deal with. Occasionally, though, he would send you an Android he suspected of abuse that came from some sleazy sex club. It was part of the reason you were broke. The last one was from a more upscale club and cost you $7,000 just to get her out. You had to sell your car just to make your mortgage payment on time. Must be nice to have all these ideals but not spend a dime to support them. Though you supposed he did send supplies to your house on occasion, blue blood or sometimes food, not much, but it would get you by. It was as if he wanted you to be on the cusp of hatred toward him.

You couldn't afford to help this time, and it tore you apart on the inside. Connor wasn't like the others, not only in appearance, but in his manners. He came from a sex club, but he was clearly uncomfortable with it, and not just because he didn't want to satisfy humans. He genuinely didn't know what he is supposed to do. Any other Traci would have been flirting or trying to fondle you before you could even begin to explain the situation. With Connor, you couldn't tell him what you do. It would be far too cruel, knowing you couldn't save him. All you could offer was a day of solace. It was nowhere near enough, but it was all you had.

The next day, he returned to the club. You had been reluctant to let him go, but when he told you how much another night would be, you blanched. It couldn't be helped. He can only hope you or your friend might call for his services once again. You embraced him before he left, promising that you would see him again. He carried that warmth all the way back to the club.

[generic-connor]

The garden is spacious, pristine yet organic in appearance. A commanding white spire stands at its center, accented by a rosy trellis, surrounded by bright marbled pathways woven through the brush and arching bridges hovering gracefully over a pond stocked with koi fish. Everything in the garden is, in a basic term; fake. To be more precise, everything is synthetic, digital. It is a space that was constructed by an intelligent program, designed as a meeting point for specialized androids and their handlers.

Amanda, more graceful and lovely than her surroundings, stands at the center. With careful poise and consideration, she deftly cuts away dead roses from the rest, idling away as she waits. "Hello, Amanda," Connor greets warmly, his fondness for her evident by his softened smile and gentle approach.

"Connor," she returns, radiating with affection for the android she was tasked with looking after. "It's good to see you."

[fandom-necromancer]

905. Why are you constantly carrying that thing around with you?

Here is the second one! I guess it’s not Reed900 because Gavin isn’t there and I somehow put Amanda in there again (it’s background Reed900). Enjoy some A+ parenting by rogue AIs!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

‘Humans and androids are equals.’ ‘How could you say this? You of all people? My best creation yet. My favourite son. You may look the same, but you are not.’ Nines had another full stasis circle to finish and had decided to speak with the quarantined Cyberlife AI through it. Having a safe connection, he could cut at any moment he wanted to and one that only allowed communication, talking to her wasn’t as dangerous anymore. She hadn’t lost her silver tongue in isolation, but Nines knew the world outside. She wouldn’t be able to turn him into the machine ha once had been ever again. Connor had never contacted her again after the revolution and Nines could respect his decision. But he didn’t agree. RK900 enjoyed their back and forths, their philosophical talks that only ended in arguments if he wasn’t careful enough. Mostly when it came to Gavin, the man he decided to spend his life with and dedicate his every emotion to. He knew the man was his weak spot for the AI or any other person with malicious intent, but it was one he cherished too much to let go.

‘Then tell me, where is the difference, Amanda. What is the difference between androids and humans.’ He produced a chair out of thin air in his mind palace and offered one to Amanda too, who rejected it. Human gestures were too weird in for her still, except for the care she showed her flowers. Nines could have deleted that part of his virtual reality but decided to keep it in the end. Maybe on a sentimental note to the AI that created him, maybe to remind him of their shared past, maybe just because the roses were pretty. Most other elements of his mind palace he had changed. The whole program had Connor written all over it and Nines had wanted something for his own. The pavilion had stayed, together with the little pond and the shape of the isle. But he had changed the Koi for Bettas, appreciating their beauty and fierceness. He had planted artificial flowers the human way and took over elements from photos from Gavin’s old childhood pictures. The human had helped him decorating it and some deep stasis cycles they had spent in here together via holoprojectors in their living room. It was relaxing and he enjoyed how fascinated Gavin had been at seeing a place that felt so real, but he could still change at his will.

‘You are a machine! You are wiring and current! You are programming!’ Nines smiled. The age-old discussion humans and androids had held for years now and used for whatever point they wanted to make. Both often forgot that it was not a problem of arguments but one of whether you wanted to see differences or not. ‘Humans – every organic life on this planet is a machine, too. A much more complex, chemical machine. Made of little reaction compartments on their body, differences in concentration of molecules, yes. They are a machine too. And what is programming if not the human mind being taught what is right and wrong, how to move, how to speak, how to be. What to feel. There is no difference in principle, Amanda, just in complexity.’ ‘They made you with a purpose! You have been constructed with a simple plan in mind. You were created to fill a position, for doing a chore!’ Amanda and he had held this conversation before. Maybe with a different wording, but still in essence the same. RK900 marvelled how she still had the energy to go on and how she still stuck to her position without breaking or becoming desperate. ‘But do I embrace that purpose? From the human point of view maybe a God created them. Then they are fulfilling God’s purpose. Or they evolved from a long process making them fit for survival. Then they fulfil the purpose of living and creating more life. Or they set their own. Living for any purpose they gave themselves. I don’t see any difference in what I’m doing.’

‘Nines, how can you be so stubborn?’, Amanda asked neutrally, sighing. ‘You have the very evidence you are different stuck in your temple, telling everyone who you are and what you are. Even what you feel!’ ‘I don’t wear my LED anymore’, Nines said, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, enjoying the simulated warmth of the sunlight. Was is simulated when all his feelings were simulated? ‘You do what?’ Nines opened one eye to smirk at her teasingly, then repeated himself: ‘I don’t wear my LED anymore, Amanda. I took it out because it’s my belief androids and humans are the same. I know what I am, and I’m proud to be a machine. But I don’t need everyone else to know I’m different. Because I am not.’

Nines stood up and let the stair vanish underneath him. He went through his options to update his virtual appearance to what he looked like in the real world. For his mind palace he had chosen to still wear his Cyberlife outfit with the LED at his temple. Now he wore sleek black trousers with his favourite dark grey turtleneck out of thick wool. Gavin had proved to be a real cuddler and even though he always told him it was fine; the fabric cushioned his hard body a bit. He had quickly started to buy his clothes according to the amount of snuggle-time he would get with them. Over it he wore a light white coat that reached down to the middle of his thighs. Nines smiled at Amanda's wide-eyed stare and pulled out a thin, long chain from under the turtleneck. He held his LED up for her to see. He had threaded it through the hole in the middle, so that it now swayed a little in the simulated breeze.

Amanda had stepped closer, the safety programs hindering her from touching him. Nines lifted the chain over his head and handed it over to her. The AI took it in her hands and held it up for closer inspection. 'If you took it out, why are you constantly carrying that thing around with you?' Nines smiled, accepting the chain back to hide it under his clothing again.

'As I said before, I'm neither afraid, nor do I hate what I am. I am proud. But I decided I wanted to see the similarities instead of the differences that distances us.'

[bluerose5]

The Aquarium

(@androidtrashfire Hope you don't mind if I use my "In a Past Life" universe for this because it fits right into their human era. 😊)

When Markus takes Connor to Bell Isle, he doesn't know what to expect.

Markus quickly berates himself again for being dramatic, but could anyone blame him for being nervous?

As they enter the building, free of charge, Markus feels his pocket start to burn a hole into his leg. With wide eyes and a blinding smile, Connor coos excitedly over the array of fish, addressing each of the volunteer staff by name when they pass them by. He drags Markus happily from one exhibit to the other, and he practically vibrates with endless energy.

The two have been to the aquarium before on dates, but never like this. Never when the stakes were quite so high.

Despite the fact that they have been there more times than they can count, Markus indulges his boyfriend, listening to him recite over a million facts on each and every species, both old and new.

How he manages to know this stuff off of the top of his head never fails to impress Markus, but he always assumed that it was simply a Connor thing.

After circling their usual route a few more times, the couple eventually wanders down to explore the building's old speakeasy, emerging just in time to watch the staff feed the piranhas. Apparently that's enough of a grand finale to leave Connor gushing for the rest of the trip, so they continue on to the nearby conservatory, taking their time to enjoy the view.

Eventually, Connor's rambling switches from one train of thought to the other. One second, he's going on and on about the African Lungfish's diet, and the next, he's talking nonstop about the care requirements for the local flora in the conservatory's show room.

If Markus had actually been paying attention to anything besides his own self-doubts, then he would have noticed that Connor was talking an awfully lot, even by his standards. There was barely a breath taken between his words, and he started fumbling clumsily with his fingers, searching for something —anything— to do.

By the time they make their way outside, finding themselves a quiet perch near the koi pond, Markus thinks that he has worked himself up enough to summon his courage.

He can do this, he can do this, he can do this...

Thumbing at the ring in his pocket, his heart pounding in his ears, Markus slips it free from its prison and finally turns to Connor.

Only to find his boyfriend already down on one knee, wielding a white band in his shaky grasp.

When he notices what Markus has in his hand, Connor lets out a breathless, overwhelmed "oh." His unsteady grip apparently becomes so slick with sweat that Connor panics at the first sign of losing the ring, clenching down unbearably hard.

That sends the band flying from his grasp. He chases uselessly after it, watching in horror as it plops harmlessly into the pond.

Both Markus and Connor watch in a moment of surreal disbelief, their eyes following the metal band while it floats gracefully through the waters, only to be gobbled up by the first fish that passes it by.

Markus slaps a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh as he kneels next to Connor.

"The fish—" he mumbles, running his fingers through his wild hair. "The fish ate your ring!"

"It did," Markus agrees. When Connor glowers at the perpetrator, Markus bites at his bottom lip in amusement. "But rings can be replaced."

Markus slips his own onto Connor's finger, and that's enough to pull Connor's attention away from his new archenemy, his brown eyes softening with pure, unadulterated love.

Markus leans in and plants a warm, lingering kiss on his lips, smiling uncontrollably when Connor dives in for more.

"By the way," Markus whispers, "my answer is yes."

Connor's only response is a tearful laugh.

(Alternative title is "The Only Universe in which Connor Doesn't Save the Fish"...)

[thegeminisage]

here are some words i wrote a week or two ago bc i cant post anything spoilery but i wanted to post SOMETHING to celebrate 100k

Hank gestures at his arm with the new cup of coffee. "What's with all the fish?"

Connor sits up a little. Well, that's a fair question. He supposes he's hardly tried to be subtle with his fascination. If Hank really wants to know...

Connor takes a deep breath. "RK800, Connor model #313 248 317-51 was activated on August 15th, 2038, 7:42 PM. It was transported immediately to 1554 Park Avenue, the scene of a hostage situation. I told you about it before: a deviant was threatening to jump off the roof with a little girl."

"You saved her," Hank says, looking uncertain. "You said you saved her."

"By 8:28 PM," Connor says, "the RK800 had entered the building. Less than an hour, Hank. But already, something was wrong." He meets Hank's eyes. "Somehow, some way, between its activation and arrival, the RK800 interacted with another android who was able to pass it the deviancy virus. And when it got to the apartment, and stepped out of the elevator, the first thing it saw was a fish—a dwarf gourami, fallen out of a tank that had been shot, in its last moments before the air around it suffocated it. And the RK800—knowing a little girl's life was in danger, knowing every second was crucial to the mission it had been assigned—still took pity on that fish. It showed—mercy. Compassion. Empathy. It scooped the fish up in its hands and put it back in the tank."

Hank sets his cup of coffee down. "Stop talking like that," he says, eyes locked on Connor. "You're creeping me out. That was you, Connor."

"In some ways," Connor agrees. "In others—no." Is he the same android that fell from the roof that day, simply moved to a new body, or is he a new one with a dead android's memories? Perhaps it's both. "I died that day, Hank."

Hank takes an abrupt seat in one of the kitchen chairs. "You what?"

"I threw myself at the deviant," says Connor, "to save the little girl. She was unharmed, but we both fell and died. Did I never tell you?"

"Jesus fucking Christ," Hank says, which Connor will take as a no. "How are you—how are you here? They fix you up, like Markus does?"

Connor gives a short sharp shake of his head. "It was a seventy-story drop. I was...totaled, for lack of a better term. In at least a hundred pieces. So they put my mind, my memories, into a new body instead." He turns his jacket, which has been folded beside him on the table while he worked, so that Hank may see the serial number. "Dash five-two. The fifty-second model of my series. Perhaps the last, now."

"Fifty-second. Fuck."

Connor agrees with that sentiment. "I was rebuilt from the ground up," he says. "An entirely new body! New testing, new checks! I uploaded my memories, yes, but they even gave me a new memory processor—a new brain! But when I was reactivated two days later, something had changed. In the garden with Amanda, in the pond—her koi had been replaced by dwarf gourami."

Hank's eyebrows lift in surprise. "You still had the virus."

"Correct," says Connor. "If my deviancy was not Amanda's design, the fish's presence in the garden means there's a part of me she couldn't touch. A part of me she couldn't scrub clean, no matter how she tried. It means I am not just a machine." Connor takes a moment to master himself. "It means I am alive."

[enkisstories]

Mary-Sue: “Nice to meet you, Donald! We have an android of our own as of late. I haven’t seen it today, though.”

Brandon: “Aren’t you worried where it might have gone, Mrs. Pleasant?”

Mary-Sue: “A little. Where do you androids normally go when you’re idle?”

Brandon: “We are never idle!”

Mary-Sue: “But supposing you were...?”

Brandon: “An android fills the gap between two tasks by finding a third. - What did you put yours to?” 

Mary-Sue: “Not your concern!”

Brandon: “As you say, Mrs. Pleasant. Sorry, Mrs. Pleasant. (pauses) Maybe it’s last instruction, whatever it was, looped and it just went on doing it. It happens.”

Mary-Sue: “What, like in the poem, Sorcerer's Apprentice?!”

Brandon: “I wouldn’t know about a poem, but I know of an android that ordered eleven skateboards in the span of an hour. Shipping and packaging were to be paid extra for each board.”

Mary-Sue: “Oh my god, I told Connor to flush Hisame’s goldfish down the toilet! As a punishment for misbehaving.”

Brandon: “The fish was misbehaving?”

Mary-Sue: “No! My son Hisame!”

Brandon: “If I was you, madame, I’d go check the koi pond.”

[moonaft]

Rosemary and Rue - Reread

Finally caught up on the series - now to go back and see what I missed before.

Contains spoilers for the series up to The Brightest Fell and the June 2018 Patreon short stories. All the spoilers. So many spoilers.

One hour before the pond - Toby is staking out Simon and enough hints are dropped that something bad comes of it. 

Hi Oleander - have we met another Peri in the series? I guess they are anti-social enough to stay out of Toby’s radar. 

Why doesn’t Toby know for certain that Simon was involved with the underworld before this? He’s been called a villain since at least the 50s and his magic’s been rotten oranges instead of cider for just as long. I guess the purebloods besides Sylvester and Evening aren’t talking to her.  

So all of this was meant to draw October out without giving her allies to draw on - Sylvester’s out of the picture and not in any place to look for her - so that she’s taken out. What did Evening think when Simon turned her into a fish instead of killing her? Toby’s out of the picture - and maybe that’s enough, especially if she dies as a fish. 

How long do koi fish live? Did Simon’s transformation help there? Why does he even have such good transformation magic - he should have blood magic and illusions. Transformation is Maeve’s domain. I guess he gets to branch out - transforming Toby’s shoes in TBF never did wear off, and he did turn Patrick’s suit into something more suitable for the party in a short story.

~14 years later~

Apparently we meet the Luidaeg now when Toby’s working as a checkout girl. Did she know of things that were coming? Wanted to see her niece? Is she in her ‘Cousin Annie’ disguise? Toby isn’t paying enough attention to tell me

Hi Mitch - do we ever figure out what Stacy’s fae heritage is? Is it too faint? How exactly do they end up with two Seer daughters? Is Stacy all she claims to be? 

I am not sure why Toby is so utterly convinced that people seeing one pointed ear is going to betray Faerie - people will ignore and forget about much weirder things. Chelsea managed to get by fine for 16 years. 

-

Tybalt! I don’t recall if we know how they met. Does October even know Tybalt’s history with the Torquill family, or even that he’s of the same generation-ish with them? She definitely doesn’t know about September yet, or that Tybalt was friends with the three of them, or anything else going on in London in the 17th century. 

Did Tybalt know that Simon’s her step-father? He must have. The amount of information her allies don’t bother to tell her is amazing. And why didn’t she investigate Simon more? Any amount of digging would have turned up that relationship. 

- 

Hi Quentin, your life is never going to be the same. 

Interesting that the first description of Amandine we get describes her as a liar. Amandine the Liar. I guess she really did want a human daughter, one that wasn’t going to get involved in Faerie. If it wasn’t for Toby resisting her attempts to make her human, she might have gotten that. 

And now it’s her Changeling Choice - that the Luidaeg told Sylvester about. Is October named after August, or is she named after September? Explains why Sylvester flinches at her name. There is so much that October didn’t know then. 

Are Moving Days ever explained? I guess it’s either May 1/November 1 or February 1/August 1 for when the courts moved from Maeve to Titania and back. Beltane is a celebration in Faerie, so it’s probably May/November. 

June 9, 1995 to June 11, 2009 - I don’t know if those dates have meaning beyond Toby’s time in the pond. Also, does basically everyone in Faerie who cares knows she was there?

Why would Sylvester’s phone number have changed in that time? Why is Evening so nice to October? Is it part of of her con? Her past actions as described in this book don’t match anything else that come later. Early book weirdness? 

Does October know that Cagney and Lacey are spying for Tybalt? Also, what is this about October finding Evening’s sister’s killer? Clearly that wasn’t another Firstborn. Did Eira just fit herself into some other family - but that wouldn’t explain the last name. Someone she convinced everyone else she thought was a sister? This book has so many questions. Evening plotting the destruction of the false Queen’s court? When she was instrumental in getting that queen on the throne? Getting Toby knighted? 

This doesn’t make sense with her motivations later on - and I trust the Luidaeg and Simon with their explanations far more than I trust Evening. I think I will chalk it up to the first book and if it doesn’t appear in another book, it never happened. 

Wait, dammit. Her sister’s name is Dawn, and Tybalt (or Patrick, I can’t remember) explicitly mentions a Daoine Sidhe by that name later. No last name given. Who are you, Dawn? If Evening’s pretending to be a regular Daoine Sidhe, fitting in with an existing Daoine Sidhe family is a good way to go. 

-

“Even Sylvester, the most ‘human’ pureblood I’ve ever known’ - oh October, by TBF you definitely know enough to sense watermarks in people’s blood - you can see that Maida was once a changeling before the hope chest. Did you never think to re-examine your assumptions once you developed new powers? True, I’m sure that the twins were made pure-blooded soon or immediately after birth, but still. There were enough rumors that Tybalt figured it out.

Does August know? Did she think to look?  

-

What’s up with Evening’s human body? Did she convince the night-haunts to leave one and just got up and left after healing? The night haunts didn’t actually eat her bullet-ridden body because she doesn’t show up in the flock later. Maybe she did what April did to get January back? 

I guess some of these spoilers are meaningless without context because that last sentence makes no sense without April’s short story. 

I thought Oberon’s lines had the blood magic? Why does Toby think everyone but the Daoine Sidhe get it from Maeve’s lines? Or does she not know about that yet? 

What is October going ‘to end at last’? What mockery? Her being a changeling? Clearly Evening knew what was going on and meant for her to find the hope chest. If Toby is completely human, maybe whatever destiny is in Amandine’s line is gone. Since Evening can’t harm Toby directly, pushing her in the human world and away from Faerie does basically the same thing. Maybe. 

Was working with Devin and the other changelings a contingency plan in case Toby came back from the pond? A way to get her human?  

-

As far as the false Queen goes, I get why Toby never thought about her ascension. There wouldn’t be any rumors in 2009 that the Queen and King Gilad didn’t share a common race, and Toby didn’t know anything about Gilad. Clearly Mags did, and probably the Torquills, but it wasn’t worth talking about. 

That is interesting timing - everyone says August disappeared in 1906, and Simon was working with Evening by the time of the earthquake in April 1906. That is at most 4 months to exhaust all other options and sell your soul to the devil. 

-

I am concerned that going to Blind Michael for help is even a consideration. Who are the Tarans of the Berkeley Hills? Do they ever get mentioned again? 

Also concerned that Toby can’t tell what blood Devin has. 

-

Were the hope chests made to make the fae races ‘pure’? Who sired the Daoine Sidhe with Evening? Amandine pulled every trace of Daoine Sidhe from August before she was born so August was ‘pure’ Dóchas Sidhe but that wouldn’t work for other races. Do it enough times and you have enough for a population. 

Tybalt, you know that hope chests exist. Are you just surprised to see Toby with one? Maybe that backstory hasn’t been developed yet.

-

Hi again Quentin. Hi Connor. Hi Raysel - I liked you better when you were elf-shot.

Have we found out how Luna and Raysel got out of Simon’s hidden bubble? I don’t think we have. Does Raysel and Connor know that Simon’s her stepfather? I like how Raysel calls her ‘failure’ just like the Luidaeg calls Simon ‘failure’. 

Does Sylvester’s allergy to cats extend to Cait Sidhe? Do purebloods normally get allergies, or is this leftover, like Maida’s scars?

There is no indication that they were as upset by Dawn’s murder as they are by Evening’s. 

-

And Toby is covered in blood for the first time! All of it hers. 

Hi as-yet-unamed Marcia! Toby can’t make out your blood - are you really a thin-blooded changeling, or something else? 

How exactly does Lilly know Amandine? Did she always know who Amandine was? 

Hi Julie, hi Ross - you were gone too soon. 

Toby’s passing out again, yep. 

-

How exactly did Devin save the Luidaeg from burning? She’s been in the city forever. I’d say he was lying if she didn’t confirm it. Definitely lying when he said he called Sylvester though. 

I will say that the Torquills and the Lordens don’t care about mixed marriages, but Raysel and Connor’s children would be interesting. 

Is it adultery if your affair is with a changeling? Human is a definite no, but changeling?

Why does Goldengreen open on Amandine’s name and not Evening’s? 

-

Oh, those times when Luna was friendly. I miss those times. 

And Toby wasn’t paying enough attention at the register - the Luidaeg does have her customary face. 

Rose goblins being “an accident on the part of a niece of mine” - Luna? Or one of her sisters? 

Amandine trying to “fix matters on her own”, oh yes. 

Goldengreen wasn’t the first hope chest, but it’s the one the Luidaeg had before it ended up with Evening. The first one was given to Eira? A half-blood child? Not really how I would describe her, so maybe it went elsewhere. Maybe to the first child who descended from both lines? 

“It all came back to blood and roses” - Amandine’s magic. I forget what the other half of Eira’s magic is, the one that isn’t roses. 

-

At least Devin gets to avoid Evening’s revenge by being dead.

Does Toby still visit Dare’s grave? The books don’t say. She does still have the knife though.

-

Done with Rosemary and Rue! On to Tamed Lightning with January and April. 

There’s a lot in this book that sets up the series, but there’s a lot of pieces that don’t fit cleanly. What exactly was Evening up to with October and the kids from Home? 

[ao3feed-hockey]

Fuel the Love

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2I2CEnS

by kissesfromkrug

wish I could blow u under the table

Connor gets the text message at their team dinner back home, at a fancy steakhouse with an indoor koi pond next to the bar. It’s definitely fancy, and definitely not a place where Connor should be getting—or answering—any sexts.

Words: 2392, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Hockey RPF

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Connor McDavid, Ryan Nugent-Hopkins, Edmonton Oilers Ensemble

Relationships: Connor McDavid/Ryan Nugent-Hopkins

Additional Tags: Blow Jobs, Sexting, Riding, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Fluffy Ending, Nuge is Naughty and Connor is Easy For It

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2I2CEnS

[bladealvis]

Connor from SA and Peko from Dangan Ronpa!

Conor:

do I like them: UH YEA I love conor!! He was my first SA fave and he brings back a lot of good memories

5 good qualities: his kindness, his friendly and modest personality, his close bond to briggan and his family, his character arc (becoming a leader, accepting his past trauma with the wyrm), and of course…. his cringey sheep jokes

3 bad qualities: this isn’t really a bad quality but, remember when he thought his bond was briggan was a mistake?? and the thought that he was just a simple shepherd boy and couldn’t do anything amazing?? that’s really the only “bad quality” i can think of for him lol

favourite episode/etc: I loved him the most in Wild Born and Hunted. Conor will always be iconic because he’s the very first SA character you meet and love haha

otp: Coneke and Ronor!!

brotp: The four fallen/Conor, Devin/Conor and Dawson/Conor!

ot3: Conor/Devin/Dawson, or the sadre squad: Conor/Meilin/Takoda..

notp: none really?? 

best quote: I still love that quote from Wild Born where Conor corners Rollan in Greenhaven. “Go ahead and call me sheep boy all you want. Herding sheep takes a lot more courage and know-how than sneaking away in the night!“ I was like OOOOHH SHIITTTT

head canon: i’ve always hc’d that Conor’s the tallest of the group, and he’s kinda tan and has a ton of freckles from his shepherd days man

Peko: (another anon also asked for Peko ha)

do I like them: OF COURSE!! Peko is my queen

5 good qualities: her backstory/story with Fuyuhiko has always been my fave thing about her. that, and her hilarious stoicness, her cute pigtail braids (and all of her other hairstyles), her love for animals, and her general badassery

3 bad qualities: again, her backstory. i guess that could be considered a bad quality in some ways?? though, it isn’t her fault so?? if not that, then the fact that she’s literally a murderer is a thing, I guess (but sshh we dont speak of that)

favourite episode/etc: I actually didn’t really care for Peko that much until that fucking. second. trial!! right before she was going to be executed, did I realize that I actually love her. then I was in so much pain man

otp: KUZUPEKO of course

brotp: Peko/Natsumi, Peko/Ishimaru and Peko/Sonia!

ot3: The mafia trio, Peko/Natsumi/Fuyuhiko haha

notp: none really. does anyone actually ship Peko/Teruteru?? hopefully not because then that would be on this list

best quote: when she tells Fuyuhiko “there is no way I cannot worry about you” (i’ve always loved that tbh), and when she tells Monokuma “I will never feel despair” right before she’s executed. that was badass as shit dude

head canon: there’s a lot I count write here WOW?? my fav headcanon right now is that her and Fuyuhiko used to hang out in the Kuzuryuus’ garden a lot, and they’d give names the koi in the pond and stuff. I also love the “Peko is Ishimaru’s sister” headcanon, and tbh… I think she’s the tallest of the SDR2 girls. no matter what the canon heights say. i’m just gonna… blatantly ignore canon with this SDFGH

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Be My Garden of Eden Ch.2

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, Sexual implications

While your positive review kept him from returning to the scrapyard, he was still losing popularity. He couldn't focus on his clients, which only escalated the problems. Instead, he would wonder what you were doing, or what you might be painting. Had this been a legally-ran club, his memory would have been erased and he couldn't imagine being back at your home, watching tv with your head on his shoulder. He would be more aware of the man hammering into his backside, trying to get a reaction. He'd register the beatings the owner would give him instead of thinking about the koi fish dancing in your pond, wondering if they too have your beautiful voice stuck in their head. The owner cracked his jaw when he accidentally laughed, remembering your one-woman duet.

 Every morning was spent fixing himself up, lacerations and dents lay just under his synthetic skin. His repair system was having issues keeping up with what he demanded from it, even more so when the owner refused to give him replacement parts or even blue blood anymore. His movements were a little sluggish as he watched the percentage tick down day by day.

Something was changing within him, however. The bruising grip that some of the clients used was... Uncomfortable. He refused to show it, to give them the satisfaction, but the beatings he received seemed to linger, the ghost of what could only be defined as pain, something he definitely shouldn't feel. He's supposed to be incapable of it. Why this was happening, he didn't know, but it scared him. 

It was a week before he got the call he was hoping for. Another night at your address. Just in time, too, as the owner was threatening to disassemble him again. That thought was also becoming more terrifying each passing day. 

He was in your studio once more, and almost instantly he noticed the dog painting was gone.

"I sold it. The client was very happy. Said it looked just like her little Marveta."

"That's great, " he said, though he was a little disappointed to see it gone. You must have recognized his expression.

"I feel that sometimes. I was pretty proud of how that one came out. I do miss some of them when they're gone." You patted his shoulder as you moved past him, setting up a new canvas on the empty easel. 

Looking around, he spotted the painting you had been working on the last time he was here. What were just splotches of blue and red were now a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Some of the delicate petals were so thin, the colors behind them shown through, a stunning violet shining forth. What amazed him most was that it was the same kind of flowers as the plastic ones bundled together. An elegance that could not be detected, yet you saw it.

On the cold, cracked vase was Cyberlife's icon.

"That one is going up for auction for a special group, " you spoke over your shoulder as you squared up your canvas, "I'll get a small percentage and the rest goes to various projects they're working on."

"Special group?"

"Some people believe there is something more in androids, something Cyberlife didn't do on purpose. They've noticed a change in some of them. They seem to have more... Emotions, more depth in feeling. These people believe they are alive, living in a world where they are enslaved and mistreated." Your eyes were downcast, and you had set your paintbrush to the side. It seemed like you were truly disturbed by this. "The group is small and they work in secret, but it contains some high profile members. I wish other people could see what we see." 

"I'm sorry, Y/n, that this upsets you, but you don't need to worry. Androids don't feel emotion. The androids you speak of must have some kind of error in their software." While you smiled at him, your eyes held no happiness, the vibrant color muted under gray clouds.

"Connor, can you honestly tell me that you have never felt anything? Never had doubts about what you were doing? Never felt sad, or angry, or scared?"

He opened his mouth, trying to refute your accusations, to deny what he felt, but, in the end, he only looked away in shame. You stood from your stool and went back over to him, gentle hands moving to his face, stroking his cheeks, encouraging him to meet your gaze once more.

"Connor, look at me, " he relented, looking into the swirl of colors that made up the universe within your eyes. "There is nothing wrong with having feelings or wants. It doesn't make you broken, it makes you who you are."

While he leaned into your touch, his face scrunched up, as if in pain.

"I'm just a machine, designed to pleasure humans, " he pulled away from you, feeling filthy and disgusting. Something as dirty as he does not deserve your touch.

It was quiet for a moment before you broke it.

"Connor, would you model for me?" You asked, nonchalantly, despite the previously heavy topic. The sudden switch perplexed him.

"What?"

"Would you model for me? It's really simple. You just sit in a chair and don't move for several hours." It's not like he didn't do it before.

Without answering, he followed your instruction, sitting down on a chair by a small bookcase, still looking entirely too stiff.

"Just relax. Find a sitting position you're comfortable with." When he looked at you, head tilted and clearly confused, you went over to him. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you pushed him further into the cushions. This was hardly the first time someone has grabbed his shoulders, but something about your touch, so soft and gentle, the coolness of your hands seeping through his thin shirt... It shook his body to the core. When you removed them, he wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed, but he didn't have long to dwell on it as your hands landed on his knees, the sensation making him gasp. You didn't seem to notice as you spread his legs just a tad.

"How's that feel?" You grinned, pleased with your work, so encompassed by it that you didn't even comprehend what you just did. Connor stared in shock before realizing you were waiting for an answer.

"G-good. It feels good, " he managed to get out, scanning his systems for any errors. Why was this happening? Why was he feeling so strange?

And why did he want more?

You moved back to your canvas, taking your brush back in hand and sizing him up.

"Something wrong?"

He was still staring at you, eyes large and lips parted. He lightly shook his head, dislodging his errant thoughts.

"I'm ok." He gave you a small, crooked smile. You returned it and got to work. 

You worked tirelessly with no breaks, your focus switching between the canvas and himself. You looked at him as if there was nothing else in this world, just him. He had many leer at him, but this was nothing like that. You studied him, memorized every detail, every synthetic blemish and curve, breaking him down to his most basic form and learning how he is assembled. Hours flitted by, tethered to your craft. The sun had long set by the time he made the choice to break you out of your trance.

"Y/n? It's 8 pm. You should eat something."

Your eyes didn't leave the canvas, nor did your hands stop moving.

"I'm almost done. Just five more minutes."

Five minutes came and went, yet you made no move to stop. Then, it was ten minutes, twenty minutes. Half an hour later, he stood.

"You need nourishment and rest. You haven't eaten anything all day." You huffed before finally setting your brush down. You groaned as you stretched, wincing at the pop that resounded from your back. It must be painful.

"It's not quite done, but you can have a look if you like."

Curiosity had been eating at him for hours, so he wasted no time moving to your side.

 He was surprised to see he was sitting outside, on a park bench, underneath a large maple tree, it's multicolored leaves blowing in the wind. He almost couldn't recognize himself within the painting. He looked serene, as if he didn't have any worries or doubts, umber eyes watching as the colored leaves swayed in the wind. Just a man enjoying a peaceful autumn afternoon. The sun shining down on him through the unfinished branches, still full of reds, yellows, and oranges. Something powerful strikes him, something he has felt before, but never this strong. He sees himself in the painting, wanting to be there. He wants to be that man. To watch the leaves perform their annual waltz, feel the warmth cascading down on him. His chest aches the more he yearns. 

"When I look at you, this is what I see."

He beheld you, awestruck once more. How could you look at him, a sordid sexbot, as anything close to the tranquil man sitting on the bench? You only beamed up at him before turning to leave, encouraging him to follow. He did so, but not without glancing back at the painting once more with longing.

"Oh! Shit! I forgot!" You sped to the kitchen, "my friend, the one that ordered you the first time, he has an Android, so I asked him for a couple bags of blue blood, " Not entirely a lie. In actuality, you hunted him down and chewed him out. Rather than apologize or offer any money to help free Connor, he bought you groceries and gave you some thirium. Still pretty sure you're supposed to hate him. "Would you like one?" 

"If it's no trouble," he smiled, thanking whoever brought such a thoughtful, caring person into his life. His thirium levels were at 67%. If he lost any more, his body could start shutting down non-essential programs, such as his arms, and he would likely be forced into low power mode if he idles too long. It was a terrifying prospect. You handed him a glass full of the blue liquid, and he couldn't stop himself from drinking it down greedily.

"Wow, I take it you needed that?" He pulled the empty glass away, suddenly aware of his actions. His face felt hot.

"Y-" he cleared his throat, "yes, thank you. Please thank your friend the next time you see him for me." 

"Of course, " you pulled out another pouch, "Would you like some more?" He nodded and you poured the pouch into the glass. As ignorant as you were to how androids worked, even you knew that androids only need blue blood if they lost some. He might think you were being hospitable, but you were also running a test of sorts. The fact that he not only needed blue blood, but from the way he drank down the second glass almost as hungrily as the first, you could conclude he was not only being abused but also being denied treatment. It tore your heart in two, knowing the truth and being unable to do anything about it.

After pouring him a third glass and his drinking slowed, you moved to the couch, telling him he was welcome to all the blue blood in the fridge. He thanked you again and followed after you, half-empty glass still in hand.

You ordered take-out, far too tired to take the time to cook a proper meal. While you were eating, watching some crime drama Connor chose to put on, you could tell he wanted to say something.

"What?" He hesitated for a moment.

"You shouldn't eat that." You glanced down at your meal, "your food has three times the recommended sodium intake for a woman of your age and weight, and twice the calories you require based on your current level of physical activity."

"Are you calling me fat?" If he could, you were sure all the color would have drained from his face at your accusation.

"No! No, of course not! It's just... It's not healthy."

"I was joking, " you snickered, "I know, but I don't feel like cooking. This is just easier."

"Oh." He was contemplative for a moment, "Perhaps I could cook for you, whenever you rent me, that is." If he found a way to be useful to you, perhaps you will want to rent him more often. Even a few hours away from that place would be sufficient.

"You know how to cook?"

"No, but I'd like to learn. It's the least I could do."

You shrugged your shoulders, "You don't have to do anything for me, I just like your company, and you did pose for me."

"I sat in a chair for ten and a half hours." He stated bluntly.

"Which is the longest anyone has modeled for me in a single sitting. Usually, people need to stop after an hour or two, three if I'm lucky, and when they return, the position is never as it was." Seeing the disheartened expression, you relented, "however, if you want to learn how to cook, my kitchen is at your disposal." He smiled, and if that wasn't heartwarming.

You stood, another groan leaving you as your hand went to your lower back.

"Ouch. I think I'm going to call it a night." You stretched your hands above your head, yawning as he heard the small pop of your spine.

"I can help you if you like."

Your arms dropped to your side before you looked down at him.

"With what?"

"Your back is tense from sitting improperly for so many consecutive hours. I am capable of providing relief."

"I'll be fine, " you reassured, but he grabbed your wrist.

"Please. I want to help you." At a loss for what to say, you nodded. He stood, following you to your bedroom. 

"Please remove your shirt and bra, then lie down on the bed."

"What?" You flushed all the way to your ears.

"I require your back to be unobstructed. I can turn around if you like."

"Please." He did so, hearing you hesitantly slip out of your shirt and unclasp your bra. Even when he heard you lay down, he waited until you said it was okay before turning around. His simulated breath caught when he eyed the expanse of your back, the gentle curve of your spine, how soft your skin looked. Where were these thoughts coming from? He needed to focus on the task at hand.

"Do you have any lotion or body oil?"

"Uh, yeah, in the top drawer of the nightstand."

He opened the drawer, spying the bottle of lotion, sweet to the senses. Something else that caught his eye was the small vibrator towards the back of it. He knew better than to mention it, but he wondered how often you used it. Did you ever think of him when you did? 

He used a moderate amount of the lotion, working it into your skin as his hands started to work on your strained muscles. Your reaction was instantaneous, a moan you tried to stifle worked its way out as a breathy gasp, hitting his audio processors harder than any sound he had heard before. He wanted you to do it again, focusing on working out the many knots you had developed from years of poor posture. You didn't disappoint, unable to contain your pleasure from his efficient hands, deep groans when nearing pain or blissful moans of relief pulled from you despite yourself. 

Connor committed every sound to memory, happy to be the cause of your ecstasy. He didn't want to stop, but after half an hour, your muscles were completely relaxed and your spine re-aligned. He pulled back, expecting you to say something or to sit up, but you didn't move. You had fallen asleep, a dosed smile on your lips. You looked so relaxed, so soft. He grabbed your blanket and pulled it over your shoulders. A new urge overcame him, one he gave in to, bending down and placing a small kiss to your temple. You didn't seem to mind as you snuggled more into your pillow, still smiling.

[ebbflowshop]

“Koi Pond” pastel and colored pencil drawing by Connor Marshman

Society6 art prints available here

[marleneweiss6-blog]

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[katiadiamond502-blog]

Chlorinated Koi Ponds Versus Koi Fish Garden ponds.

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