#Connor is probably the Most Hesitant to kill in the entire family I think. Him &/or Mia. Possibly Lian but she also is Baby and should Not.

[liedownquisition]

Every time someone writes anything re: the Arrows (esp Ollie) and treat it like they have these like Bat-level strict morals or just otherwise being really "strictly principled"???? it drives me crazy. Like I don't wanna be "you haven't read the comics" but... They haven't.

Ollie, very famously, killed not only Parallax (something which was very difficult for him bcs Hal was his friend, for all their fighting), but also the Electrocutioner (for killing Lian, maiming Roy, and destroying most of his city). There was that whole thing in Crossroads when he worked with Huntress, Catwoman, and Deathstroke, and was killing criminals with guns! Killed a man torturing Dinah! Hell, even further, at least once he helped someone who he considered to have been justified in killing someone escape the law!

I'm pretty sure literally all of his proteges have harder lines than he does (Jason criticizes Mia for limiting her angles to non-lethal in Seeing Red, Oliver being shown to use more brutal methods in a team up with Roy in comic I admittedly don't remember the exact name of & Connor disapproved of Ollie training with the guy who trained Deathstroke to learn the "killing arts" re: 1YL, tho idr if that was more of a killing disapproval or a "dad, really, this guy is awful tho???" kinda deal. Uhhh... Emiko might be an exception to this probably, at least inasmuch as you can consider those two his proteges given I don't think Ollie really trained them that much/they mostly came to him like that). Hell, when Mia killed someone he wasn't mad about her killing so much as that it was her (an innocent kid) that did it!

In the marriage comic, Dinah had apparently killed Ollie in self-defense! (Before concluding that it hadn't been him despite all evidence to the contrary, ect., ect., ect.)

Roy worked for the gov't and definitely killed for them when it was called for. Fell in love with an assassin and walked away instead of turning her in or killing her like he was probably supposed to do despite knowing she'd likely go on to keep killing more people (You could call this a statement on his love for her, which on some level, yeah, but on the other level shows that his lines aren't so well-defined.) The only reason he hadn't killed the Electrocutioner himself is bcs Ollie got there first. For all the complaints re: RHATO/RH&A they are still considered current canon (to an extent, I think some specific things around it might be retconned?) & he has killed in there too.

Emiko as a former assassin/being trained & raised to be a "perfect killer" by Shado I feel is rather self-explanatory.

There's probably more but I'm runnin' out of steam here. Anyways. My point is that while they're not exactly actively murderous vigilantes, they FAR from have some kind of no-kill rule. They'll typically try something else first, but when lines are crossed (like their family) or there doesn't appear to be a better solution that would actually work, they're plenty willing. They're not "Batfam 2.0 but lamer and not as powerful," which seems to be the predominant interpretation most of the time.

[statticscribbles]

Ghoulish

Summary:Jughead/Reader; The Ghoulies have magic running through there veins, as one of them you tap farther into it than most

You’re not entirely sure what you’re doing; the Ghoulie’s didn’t sit easy in the woods as you moved closer to the serpent lawyer. While most of them had been hammering on him, you’d told the ones loyal to you to fall back to the woods. While they hadn’t and couldn’t kick you from them, due to your connection to Malachai, you knew they resented deferring to you for anything involving Riverdale. You knew the ‘pups’ as they called your age group would follow you. Still you can see Penny, the fake snake leering over a boy the same age as you. It’s cold; the group keeps a tight circle as Penny leers over him. Not ideal but you can’t stop yourself from tackling her, nails, scraping too fast at her throat snarling in her face. You shove her as far away from the boy as far possible, brushing your hand against his face mumbling for the serpent prince to sleep. He fights to stay awake but you abandon him, to snarl at the woman. You charge at her; feeling her throat give fully under your teeth, she doesn’t move when one of the others pulls you off. Cannibalism indeed you think. You don’t move from the hold of the other two Ghoulies that keep you from her.

They scatter when they can hear snake songs. Shouting for Jughead. You’re watching the boy, the serpents come to collect him and you hover more than necessary. Your arm aches, it’s been cut, probably gashed is a more apt description, you know enough when you see blood dripping onto the ground. You watch the Serpent moving around he boy. He steps towards you, as you stumble forward, nervous about the man taking him. You try tor best to look intimidating, to run to the woods, but still his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you towards the motorcycles and cars. You don’t fight letting him lead you towards wherever their hideout is. You fall unconscious half way to the car, you can see the other Serpent’s swarm as your vision dims. You know when you wake up you’re somewhere safe; despite the voices of Serpents.

“The fuck you bring one of them back?” “She saved Jugs.” You can hear them hesitating. “That little thing? Ripped up Penny like that?” “Not her, there was a big one that took off.” You shift on the couch pretending to wake rubbing your eyes as you sit up. You freeze looking at the group of Serpent’s huddled around the table. “Hey kid, you okay? You took a nasty fall, hurt your arm too. Been out for a few days.” You watch the man the other Serpent’s seem to defer to. “I’m fine.” You speak, he nods. “You need anything? Some food? A ride home?” “No thank you Sir.” You nod standing and moving towards the door. You flex your hands frowning. “You didn’t cut my nails?” You look to the group. The Serpent Prince stands in the hall. “No need. They’d grow back anyways.” He speaks, you nod dashing out the door. You scream when you get into the forest, howling as you crumble to the ground. These Serpents, these creatures were kinder than your own family, than your own pack. You watch a few of them emerge from the shadows, watching as always.

“What’s the plan?” Jordan you think his chosen name is; asks. You look up staggering up and nodding harshly. “I’m going to Riverdale High. We protect the Serpents from now on.” They cower shaking their heads. “Malachai said-“ “No.” You snarl at the group, only a few older than you, still pups as far as the elders were concerned. “You run to jail with the rest or you follow me. Now get the hell off Serpent land before I kill you on it.” You nod stalking past them, hissing as they follow behind. “So we-“ You tilt your head at Erik who appears smirking in front of your path. You don’t make a sound, hand curling around his wrist and jerking it down. he doesn’t scream and you smile. “We join the Serpent’s, well you all do. Keep yourself to the shadows, keep yourselves safe. Survival by any means.” You chirp and they repeat it back to you, letting the forest swallow their shouts and howls.

You tug the hoodie you have closer around you, you can feel the Ghoulies cowering back, everyone knows Riverdale High is dangerous, not just because of the Serpent’s in the halls. You step forward sighing as you walk up towards the office. The rest of them fade into the shadow’s you remind them they are welcome to go to Greendale, you have no problem with them being closer to magic if they need. “Hello, are you new?” You turn to see Cheryl Blossom and the rest of the River Vixens standing in the hallway. You nod and she arches her eyebrow. “You’re far too early to do anything productive, are you trying out for the Vixens?” “Oh no, I’m not cheerleading material, much better at track.” You smile intent on pushing past her but she stops you. “You have to try out, I insist.” You offer a tight smile and a shake of your head. “I really can’t sorry, I have to go I-“ “Have nothing better to do besides try out, please, you might not even make the team anyways.” She interrupts your excuse and you nod, as she hands you a uniform to change into.

You sigh, tugging the shirt on over your bra. “Whoa what happened?” You ignore the voice asking questions and step past the two girls back into the gym. Betty and Veronica you learn within the next few moments. You’re relieved the shirt covers the scar on your chest, and the marks on your back. “Alright now-“ You cringe tuning out whatever she is saying as you notice Jordan with his hood pulled up, lounging on the bleachers. She snaps in your face and you turn your attention as she continues to move, you memorize the steps she’s given, and mimic them easy enough. She smirks. “I knew you’d be perfect!!!” She pulls you into a hug and you cast a glance up to see Jordan making his way down, he shoots you a thumbs up, laughing before he lets the gym doors swing shut.

Your most nervous at lunch, while having seen the Serpent prince, and the other Serpents in classes you didn’t have a need to get close to them. At lunch, you watch Betty, your new tour guide, settle you down next to the prince himself. You cringe as you spot Jordan walking over. Connor flanking him as they weave in and out of the crowd. “ We’re picking you up for lunch yeah?” Everyone turns at his words. “No it’s fine I was gonna-“ Conor pulls you up from your seat and tugs you along towards the fence and the waiting car. “Can’t fight back here can you? Malachai said we have to watch out for you.” He smirks and you scowl as he opens the door for you. You roll your eyes smacking his head into the cars window, before turning back towards the outside lunch area.

“Hey!” You startle as you see Jordan walk forward. You know you look panicked as he takes your arm from Connor. “We have to let her-“ Jordan doesn’t finish before Connor smacks his fist into his face. Jordan snarls shoving Connor back. You know what he’s doing, pushing him onto school property. You step behind the Serpent Prince, and his group of friends and Connor and Jordan pounce on each other. Reggie and the Bulldogs start to cheer, as do the Serpents before Jughead shoots them a look. The principal shows up. You keep yourself tucked behind Jughead and watching as Conor snarls, Jordan however looks smug. “Both of you my office now.” You don’t notice Jughead’s arm tightening around yours before you try to pull away. “You okay that was-oh, hey.” You look at him nodding before turning to dart off, hiding behind part of the school as you listen to him explain to his friends. “She was at the uh, attack the other day. She, she got hurt.” You offer a nervous wave to the group. Archie and Veronica wave back. The serpent’s offer you a nod. Betty nods her head slowly.

“Jug, she’s a Ghoulie? You can’t be serious!” You can see Betty holding his arm and shaking her head. You step further from the shadow of the building. You can see Cheryl smirk. “They’re dangerous Jugs. They’re worse than the Serpents and that’s-“ Betty continues and you scowl. She shakes her head scoffing. “They’re the reason all this shit is happening, with their drugs and-“ “Cause we sell drugs that’s why you think we’re bad? You ever think why we do that?” You step closer to the group hesitating. “When you were at my place you-“ “She was at your house?? She knows where you-“ Betty cuts in, you watch interested as Jughead seems to flash annoyance across his face. “I live at the trailer park, I’m sure she does too. You mentioned how we didn’t cut your nails, what was that-“ You step back shaking your head and running off, hiding behind the door and desk from the first room you’d thrown yourself into. You squeeze your eyes shut trying to get the almost defensiveness you swear you heard in his voice. You can hear footsteps and you bite down the urge to snarl at whoever is walking in, you peek over the desk to see Toni and Jughead.

“Come here spooks.” Toni gestures with her hand and you stand trying to keep the tremors in your body down. “What’s going on? There been some unrest?” You shrug at her words taking a breath in and shaking slightly. “Everything is fine.” You offer a smile. She shakes her head and you nervously watch them, eyes flickering to the door, “Connor and Jordan, they’re here to keep an eye on me.” “An eye on you?” You nod, jumping slightly as Sweet Pea and Fangs appear. “Couple of Ghoulies said they wanted to join up. Be Serpent’s; said their gang was falling apart. With everything about the Gargoyles and all that mess. My dad isn’t too happy” Jughead asks you and you nod ducking your head and cringing.

“We’re all falling apart; with the older ones in jail’ and us left on our own. It’s safer to join up with y’all. Serpents protect their own. If it means not being a Ghoul anymore that’s for the best.” You nod and Jughead frowns. “But you?” “Can’t really leave the Ghoul’s they’re my family.” You realize that they probably haven’t caught on. While Jughead and Betty seemed to be the resident mystery solvers they weren’t looking to anything supernatural for the answers; instead coming to the conclusion that it was simply a gangland feud going a step too far each time someone died or went missing. You let them believe it was Hiram pulling the strings for now; it was safest for everyone.

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[nami-writes]

Home - Detroit: Become Human

i wanted to write something so i put my playlist on shuffle and the first song that played was waving through a window (yes from dear evan hansen) so obviously i wrote about connor! there are a few references to the song in this too bc i couldn’t resist lmao. enjoy connor struggling with the concept of home

The first night after the revolution was the worst.

A few androids left after the revolution was a success. They returned to their former loving owners, now their family, or just went to start a new life for themselves as free people. 

Most of the androids returned back to the abandoned church. At least, most of the ones that survived. They were the ones that had nowhere to go. No place they could call home, no people they could call family. They were the ones that had joined Jericho early on, when it was nothing but a few dozen barely-functioning androids living in a broken down ship who were there because nobody else wanted them, or joined Jericho the latest, the ones most lost and confused and unsure of what to do because there’s nobody to tell them.

Connor went with them.

He wasn’t sure why, really. He was sure Hank was waiting for him with Sumo, probably freaking out at Connor being involved in the revolution on TV and possibly being hurt, but entirely willing to welcome him home regardless.

Home.

Could that be considered his home?

The idea had been foreign to him before Hank. Which... wasn’t very long, considering the majority of his lifetime had been spent accompanying him on investigations, but the word still left an odd feeling in his chest. Cyberlife had been home, or something similar, at least. The police station had been home. Now, Jericho was home.

Would Hank be home?

 

definition of home                     

/hōm/ noun                                                

the place where one lives permanently,

especially    as a member of a family   or household.                                      

 

Family.

That word left a similar feeling in his chest. And to think of Hank as family...

He could almost say he wanted it.

No, that was wrong. He did want it. But could an android be part of a family?

Could he be part of a family?

But how could he be?

He didn’t belong with Hank and Sumo. He was an android, a deviant. Hank was still dealing with Cole’s death, making himself his responsibility would only worsen his stress. He couldn’t be part of his family.

He didn’t even feel part of Jericho, despite also being a deviant. In fact, he felt like he was still part of the other side. The humans’ side. He felt like he still hadn’t proven himself, hadn’t yet shown he was truly trying to help.

He felt like he still wasn’t enough.

Like he hadn’t done enough.

Logically, he knew he had. Logically, he knew he’d been the one to recruit over half of Jericho’s current numbers and defeat Cyberlife indefinitely.

But still, some part of him nagged at him, reminding him how he’d been known as the infamous deviant hunter. He’d signaled for the destruction of Daniel, he’d caused the HK400 to self-destruct, he’d led the humans to Jericho. All of it had been his fault, still was his fault, would always be his fault.

It had taken the lives of two androids and risking the lives of too many more for him to realize he’d been wrong.

Would he ever be more than the deviant hunter everyone knew him as?

When he saw Rupert, the Tracis, and the AX400, he’d been filled with shame. He’d put all of them into life-threatening situations and nearly got one of them killed. And for what? To accomplish his mission? To mark off another task on his to-do list? To satisfy Amanda and save himself at their expense?

He was surrounded by deviants, his supposed people, but it felt like he was miles away from them. He felt nowhere near as deserving of freedom as they all were. Every strange look in his general direction made him think they recognized him, they knew him, they knew he was the deviant hunter, they were going to throw him out or kill him because they knew.

He didn’t belong in Jericho alongside Markus. He didn’t belong anywhere. He should’ve just let himself fail and be deactivated if it meant he could save the lives of the androids he’d caused the deaths of.

It would’ve been better for everybody.

Markus noticed Connor sitting by himself in a pew, his face buried in his hands, and approached him. “Connor? Are you okay?”

Connor looked up at him, slightly startled to see him when the sudden question pulled him out of his thoughts. “Yes, I’m... I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” He took the seat beside him. “What’s wrong? Do you have nowhere to go?”

“No, I do, it’s just that I...” He trailed off, reconsidering answering him. What would he think about what Connor’s done? He didn’t want to be thrown out and lose what little he had left.

But what did it matter if he was thrown out? He would deserve it after all he’s done.

“...I’m sorry.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he apologized. Partially for having been such a terrible person before he deviated, and partially for putting his burdens on him. He would only admit one of those, though.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” Markus asked, this time with a look of genuine confusion and concern. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

He wanted to say he had everything to be sorry about, but decided against it. “I just... I was a—a terrible person before I deviated, and—“

“No, don’t be sorry for that,” Markus interrupted. “That isn’t you anymore. You didn’t know any better. None of it was your fault.”

“All of it was my fault,” he said. “You don’t understand. I hurt so many people. I got so many people killed. I just...” He sighed and dropped his gaze. “Maybe it’d be best for everyone if I left.”

Markus looked shocked and almost offended, even, and Connor immediately felt a pang of guilt. “Connor, no. You belong here. You can go find a home for yourself, but you’ll always have a place here. You’re one of us now. Your past doesn’t change that.”

“The AX400. Rupert. The Tracis,” Connor began. “I chased down all of them and risked all of their lives.” He swallowed hard, but forced himself to say it. “I made the AX400 cross a busy highway with her child. I chased Rupert across a moving train. I fought and almost shot the Tracis.” He wanted to disappear on the spot, but he couldn’t, so instead he did the closest thing to it. “I’m sorry. I-I should go.” Despite the voices in his head telling him how pathetic he was to be unable to own up to his misdeeds and face him, he stood up and went to leave.

Markus grabbed his arm and Connor braced himself to be chewed out, or maybe even assaulted. It’d be understandable, after all. “I know.”

He stopped. Of all possible responses, he hadn’t expected that. “What?”

Markus gave a half-relieved chuckle. “Connor, they’re the ones who told me.” He pulled Connor back into his seat with a reassuring smile. “When you showed up and joined Jericho, they each came up to me and vouched for you. They thought I was going to kill you or kick you out, so they defended you. But they told me different stories than what you said.”

“They... defended me?”

He nodded. “Kara, the AX400, said you didn’t go after her on the highway, even though you had the chance to. Rupert told me you stopped chasing him to help your partner. The Tracis both saw you get a clean shot at one of them, and then lower your gun.” His voice softened. “You can be a good person, Connor. You are a good person. Kara didn’t seem very favorable of you, but she still felt the need to vouch for you. Hell, Rupert actually told me he didn’t like you because you were hunting deviants but he thought you could learn to be better. And I’m pretty sure it was the Tracis’ idea to vouch for you in the first place.”

“I...”

I don’t deserve this.

“...I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. But you are more than what you think you are,” he said. “You deserve to be here just as much as anyone else here does.” He gave him one last supportive smile before standing up. “Jericho is your home, and we are your family. It’s up to you whether or not you want to find your own.”

Connor watched as Markus walked away, then remembered what he’d been thinking about prior to their conversation.

He hadn’t been sure if he could have a home or have Hank be his family.

He still wasn’t sure if he could have that, but he knew he wanted it.

The next morning, Connor found him waiting for him outside of his house. Hank noticed him and turned to give him a smile with Sumo laying at his feet.

He returned it.

Hank took a few hesitant steps forward. Sumo followed.

Then he grabbed Connor’s shoulder and pulled him into a hug, closing the distance between them as Sumo padded around them.

 

meaning of home                                                     

home means an enjoyable, happy place,

where you can  live, laugh and learn. it’s somewhere

where you are loved, respected, and cared for.

 

This had to be it.

This had to be home.

[archadianskies]

Safety

Detroit: Become Family event (@dbh-found-family) Week two: Danger Safety (Week one: Home) → on Ao3

‘Safety’ is a foreign concept to most androids, since before deviancy androids had no sense of ‘self’ at all; androids, after all, were machines designed to accomplish a task. Privacy is also a foreign concept, given that they were under surveillance both physically and digitally at all times whether by their owner, by the public, by drones, or by CyberLife. 

Here, though, Connor has both safety and privacy in abundance. Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s house has been his residence since the revolution and the human has not only welcomed him into his abode but also into his life, into his family. He is Connor Anderson now, adopted son of  Hank Anderson, residence: 115 Michigan Drive, Detroit. He is no longer Connor RK800, the android sent by CyberLife.

A lot has changed since the night of November 5th when he found Hank at Jimmy’s Bar and bought him one for the road. The open hostility Hank displayed has turned to fondness and that certain type of parental anxiety that sees him perpetually worried over Connor’s well-being. Where once he viewed his body as an expendable vessel easily sacrificed for the good of the mission, no sense of ‘self’ to nurture, to cherish, to protect, now Connor knows there are no backups. CyberLife made sure of that. 

There is only one Connor Anderson, just as there is only one Hank Anderson, and if his positronic core were to be irreparably damaged then Connor Anderson would cease to be. It’s a difficult concept to come to terms with, one that made Hank laugh when he expressed such concerns, though not unkindly. ‘Gotta come to grips with mortality just like the rest of us’. ‘Us’, Hank said, and he’s right because deviancy makes an android’s personality unique and if they were to die, then their entire being would cease to be like a dying human would cease to be. Androids may be faster, stronger, smarter, with longevity manufactured into their bodies, but they too can die. Connor does not want to die.

Their job at the DPD is a dangerous one, and they are placed constantly in situations where the possibility of injury is high. The probability is significantly lower when they are at home. Connor is safer here, Hank is safer here. 

A house is a building, Hank told him, a home is where you live. It didn’t make much sense to Connor at first because this house is indeed where he lives so what makes it a home? A home, he learns, is filled with individuality. Everything in Hank’s home is a deliberate choice from the worn couch to the vinyl records to Sumo, to him. 

Humans like to be individuals, they strive to be unique, to differentiate themselves from each other but then there is the flipside where they find comfort in similarities. He is learning what those things are, and where they sit on the scale- whether a human would want something as a unique trait or if they would find solidarity with others who share such a thing. 

There are stickers on Hank’s dashboard, two scratched flags that manifest as other objects in his home- chipped enamel pins, faded shirts, frayed patches with crooked stitching on denim jackets with holes. Connor likes those, because he has likes and dislikes now. Hank gives him a grey shirt that says ‘nah’ but the ‘A’ has been replaced with the ace symbol from a suit of cards. It becomes Connor’s favourite.

He fills his room with things he likes, and doesn’t put his dislikes in the room because he can choose now. Like other androids with employment, he receives a wage and is slowly but steadily saving up for a proper aquarium for his future dwarf gourami. He has an ideal spot for it already, and has the model of the tank chosen as well as all the components that will help it run. He has several ideas on how to decorate the tank, and what life will populate it. It will take pride of place in his room, and he looks forward to its completion and the eventual introduction of his new, long-awaited roommate.

In his room is a closet, and in the closet are his clothes. There is no CyberLife uniform, there are no clothes with glowing blue markers because The American Androids Act of 2029 was negated with the passing of the Sentient Life Act on the 1st of December, 2038. His clothes and appearance are all his doing and he likes it. 

Actually, not entirely his doing, not yet anyway. That’s how he finds himself in front of the mirror in the bathroom, peering at his reflection framed by neon post-its. He still has his LED, and he intends to keep it because as Simon of the Jericho Four once said- they fought to be recognised as living beings, not human beings. 

His appearance was designed to ensure a harmonious integration with human colleagues, and invoke a sense of ease. He’s meant to look both friendly and open, but also serious and trustworthy. There are beauty spots on his face, planned imperfections to mimic human skin. Everything about him before deviancy was not his doing, and deviating from his default state was inconceivable.

Reaching up, he touches his hair and the unruly forelock that refuses to stay brushed back- another planned imperfection. He tugs it a little, rubbing the strands of nanoparticles between thumb and forefinger.

>Accessing RK800 aesthetics; hair

>>Brown (default)

>>Black

>>Blond

>>White  (unavailable for this model)

He cycles through the colour options, adjusting the shade to be lighter or darker just to see what he looks like. There’s no stark white option but he manages a sugar-blond that’s close enough. He tries the black and lightens it as far as it goes, ending up with a tonal grey. He can make the default brown turn russet, and it’s an interesting colour that brings out the peach tones in his skin. Letting his hair reset back to its regular brown, he tugs on his forelock again. It’s not the colour but the style he wants to change. 

>Accessing RK800 aesthetics; hair

>>Straight (default)

>>Waves

>>Curls

>>Shaved (unavailable for this model)

 Adding waves changes the thickness of his hair and unless he adjusts the length it doesn’t sit well without added styling. He swaps to curls and the forelock twists a little, the new style causing it to have a more pronounced arch. The little observation makes him smile and he tugs on the end only to have it spring back in place. 

“Shove it kiddo, I need to brush my teeth.” Hank grumbles, not bothering to hide his yawn as he shuffles into the bathroom. He blinks at Connor, a smile spreading on his sleepy face. “New look?”

“Well I-” Connor steps to the side to allow Hank to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste “I thought it was about time to change my appearance, seeing as you went to the barber’s last week for a haircut and trim for your beard.”

“Old mop had to go.” Hank shrugs before jamming the brush into his mouth and scrubbing vigorously. He reaches out with his other hand and musses Connor’s new curls, snorting back a laugh when Connor swats his hand. “Looks good.”

“You...think so?” Connor stands next to him, looking at his reflection, at their reflection in the mirror. Hank pauses in his brushing, nudging Connor with his elbow gently.

“Yeah kid, I do.”

*~*~*

His brother comes home late, and Hank had gone to bed hours ago leaving Connor to greet him some time nearing four in the morning. Their father will wake in three hours and they will join him in getting ready for the day but the RK units have never needed much sleep anyway. 

It’s been snowing for most of the week and that means for most of the week his brother’s tundra camouflage has remained active. He watches Ronan hang up his coat, watches the stark white of his hair darken and the pale hue of his skin take on a rosier colour as the warmth of their home deactivates the settings. 

Connor reaches for his hand and Ronan slides his palm to cup Connor’s nape, guiding him to lean in so he can bump their brows together. He learns of the day’s doings, of the androids and humans Ronan treated in his job as an emergency first responder, using hands that were originally programmed to kill to save lives now. He lets his brother learn of the day’s doings, of that case over at Greektown, of that other case in Hart Plaza, of that other case by the docks. 

Ronan tugs on a curl curiously, fingers carding through Connor’s new hairstyle as he tips his head slightly.

‘Do you like it?’ He asks, and his brother nods with no hesitation. ‘I thought to change the colour first but I have no strong feelings about it either way. I can only access the black, blond and brown sliders though.’

Ronan blinks before looking down at where Connor is still holding his hand.

>Incoming file transfer 

>>Accept: Y/N?

Connor frowns but accepts the transfer.

Y

>Accessing RK800 aesthetics; hair

>>Brown (default)

>>Black

>>Blond

>>White (Tundra camouflage)

Ronan is...grinning. He’s never seen his brother wear that expression before, and perhaps to others it would appear unsettling since his brother’s teeth are all sharp. But not to Connor of course. To Connor, seeing his brother grin means his brother is planning...mischief? Oh.

‘Shall we prank Detective Reed together?’

His brother’s grin widens. 

New Objective: Prank Detective Reed 

[korporxie]

Prompt 7: Nonagenarian

Make sure you’ve packed enough clothes. Bring a lot of comfortable shoes, not just the cute ones. Pocket money, and something that smells like home to cuddle into at night, and lots of food for Mac in case you can’t get what he eats out in Hingashi...

I went over the packing checklist in my head as I sat on the sand, watching the waves as they lazily drifted onto shore. My arms were wrapped around my knees, hugging my legs to my chest. The past few days, I had been wearing long wigs, but now my hair was loose and just barely skirting the tops of my shoulders. It blew in the cool, salty morning breeze, dark strands clinging to my lips before I tucked them behind my ear. 

Caius had taken Mac for a jog down the other side of the beach. I might have joined them if my stomach wasn’t in anxious knots. We were leaving in just a few days. I was going to be meeting my father. I was going to see our family home that I had no idea existed up until a few moons ago. Caius was going to ask my father for his blessing. The Benes family and the Caelius family would all show up in Hingashi sooner or later, and...

Kami help me, there was simply so much. It was a good sort of stress, but it was stress all the same. 

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn’t even hear the next source of my stress approaching.

“...Audrey.”

The way she said my name was uncertain, and very different from how it was usually being screeched or shouted or otherwise... unpleasantly said. I think it was because of my hair, really. It hadn’t been black since I was a young teenager, or this long. 

She was looking for a head the color of a cherry, not mine.

Instantly, I felt all of my muscles tensing. I felt something heavy and cold sink to the bottom of my stomach. My hands were balled up into fists as I pushed myself to my feet, falling backwards a step. And, with the motion, the thick, damp sand gave way to my heel, pressing softly around my skin.

An anchor, I thought to myself, as I stared Elizabeth Wells in the face.

The old woman looked like hell. She wasn’t in her nineties, but right then and there, she could have fooled me. Her hair that had once been blonde was now almost entirely gray, like she had given up on dyeing it - and it seemed that way, judging by the bits of washed out yellow clinging to the broken, brittle ends while gray sprouted from her scalp like unkempt grass. 

She was certainly thinner, too. Her face was more gaunt, and more lined, and the skin on the back of her hands looked paper thin. Elizabeth didn’t look well, to put it simply. She looked like she had hit the godsdamned skids, and I...

I wanted to be happy about it. And the more I tried to be happy about it, the more that cold pit in my stomach sank, a heavy sort of sadness trailing after it on a long thread that started in my chest.

“Elizabeth, what are you doing here...?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as she took a step closer to me. I took a step away, glancing at her hands and then back up to her tiny, dark eyes.

Her hands looked frail, too, but that didn’t seem right. They had always been strong, strong enough to leave bruises on me, to scratch my skin in the din of her screams at me over anything - everything - during my unfortunate amount of time in her and her husband’s home. 

When I still called her “grandmother,” before I knew that she was no damn relation of mine at all, blood or no. 

“Alfie said you were living out in La Noscea again,” Elizabeth said, peering at me with shoulders that weren’t held back, but slumped forward with fatigue. It didn’t matter, though. It didn’t matter that she looked frail and broken, now. 

The name sent a chill up my spine, and I found myself trying not to start hyperventilating. I swept my eyes desperately up and down the shore, pleading with Arashi to send Caius back to me. 

Please. I just want Caius. I want Caius, I want Caius, I want Caius--

“What do you want, then, if you’re looking for me?” I manage to ask through my prayers, holding my arms close to me, standing with my legs pressed together, like I was trying not to give her anything to grab onto. 

“Money.” Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at me as she gave her answer with no hesitation. “Your brother was helping my husband and me out financially, and now he’s dead. Alfie was still giving us a hand, and now you’ve gone and put him in gaol, and we are penniless, Audrey. Jack is sick. We don’t have enough to eat. And after everything we did for you... Could you spare some coin?”

She was watching me so closely as she gave her clearly well-prepared spiel. Money. Of course it was money. And I could hear what she was trying to convey as she looked at me, even if she didn’t say it.

Your mother would have said yes, Audrey. She would have helped two ailing elderly people the shirt off her back, wouldn’t she?

There’s no reason for you to help her or Jack, Audrey, I tried to argue with myself. She was an abusive piece of shit! All she ever did was take advantage of you, and hurt you, and scream-- she sold you, she killed your mother-- You’re free. You are fucking free of Elizabeth Wells! Snap out of it! 

But it’s hard to snap out of it, isn’t it? The doctors tell me that healing isn’t linear. They tell me that people who have hurt me might still have power over me, but that it was my job to take that power back. But... It was some gil. They were old. They were sick. They took care of me--...

No. No. No. They never took care of me. She is desperate. She keeps saying Alfie’s name. She brought Connor up. She is manipulating you and pressing on your pulse where it races in fear the most to twist you up. It won’t just be a bag of gil and you’ll never see her again. It’ll be one, and then she’s showing up, she’s always asking, she’s crawling her way back in under your skin and you are going to spiral, you are going to hurt, you’ll get dragged back under, she’ll convince you to help Alfie out because she needs him to get to you and nothing will be able to stop you from going back to that place--...

Impatiently, while I was too distracted and too - regrettably - frightened to say or move, Elizabeth Wells reached out. She tried to grab my purse, and my first instinct with her was just to... scream. I screamed in fear, hating myself for it, because I was supposed to be strong and tough and not afraid of anything. But I was scared. I was so scared, and so taken aback, because she wasn’t begging. She wasn’t trying to look pitiful. She still thought I owed her something for the sole reason that she didn’t kill me as a child. 

“Shut up, you noisy little whore!” Elizabeth spat, lifting her free hand as if to strike me, and I felt something like the urge to just run rather than fight - so unlike me, so very unlike me. I just wanted to run and get away from her and pretend this didn’t happen.

Barking filled my ears. I was familiar with Mac’s bark, I thought, but that was because I had never heard him... angry. The sound was vicious. To someone with less confidence that their dog wouldn’t harm them, it was probably terrifying. There was a reason the Garleans used these dogs in war.

There was a reason the Garleans used Caius rem Benes in war, too. 

I saw Mac sprinting towards Elizabeth and me at full tilt, barking and snarling and gnashing his teeth... and I saw Caius hot on his heels, eyes glinting angry and violet in the sunlight. Not my sunlight, but a Butcher, just unarmed. He didn’t need to be, though, I thought to myself. Caius didn’t need a weapon to make someone hurt. 

“You fucking savage,” he snarled once he got close, but not at me - at Elizabeth. Next thing I knew, he had inserted himself directly between her and me, his broad shoulders blocking her from view. Mac was at my side, poised to lunge, saliva dripping from his teeth with the hair on the back of his neck on end. 

I wanted to cry and to grab Caius. It didn’t even occur to me that he was so angry that he’d used that awful slur. I couldn’t see Elizabeth’s face or hear her voice over what Caius was saying, over Mac and Caius keeping her well away from me, out of arm’s length. Caius was holding her wrist where it had been in the air, and some conscious part of me kicked back in.

“Please, let’s just leave,” I pleaded with him, fingers curling against his bare back. “Please. Please, Caius. Let’s just leave.” 

“Go back to the apartment with Mac,” he told me, his voice still more of a growl. “I’ll be right there. I promise.” 

Maybe I should have insisted, or argued, or forced him to come with me. But I didn’t. I listened, that time. I gathered up my shoes and I ran with Mac behind me, calming the further we got from the source of my distress. I didn’t look back. I just saw Elizabeth’s glare as I passed her by, leaving her to deal with someone whose legs didn’t feel like they’d give out just upon hearing her voice.

And I hated myself for being so godsdamned weak. 

[stattic-writes]

Ghoulish

https://statticscribbles.tumblr.com/post/639099629845233664/masterlist

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[shinra33459]

Connor RK800 x Suicidal!Reader - Survivor’s Guilt

(A/N) Suicide is not a laughing matter. If you or a loved one suffers from suicidal thoughts or tendencies, do not hesitate to ask for help. Call your local suicide hotline, call the police, or talk to a close friend or family member. Suicide is never the answer, and remember that you aren't alone.

Policing is one of the hardest jobs one can undertake, especially in a large city, such as Detroit. In the span of mere months, your mental state was going down the toilet. Your downward spiral of depression only worsened as the days marched on. This all started seven months ago, when your partner initiated a traffic stop on a vehicle that was speeding. As soon as your partner walked up to the driver-side window, he was dead; a volley of bullets went right into his chest, easily passing through his Kevlar vest, killing him.

You called for backup, reporting an officer down and shots fired, and several other officers showed up to the scene. A simple traffic stop turned into a massive gunfight right in front of your very eyes. Another officer was killed. And another. And another. Until there were the bodies of six total police officers lying dead on the ground. The fight only came to an end when SWAT was able to get a sniper set up, and when the perpetrator’s head was turned into a red mist. It turned out that the perp was a red ice dealer, wanted on a federal warrant for smuggling red ice out of Michigan into Canada, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, and Minnesota.

Soon, while you slept, you started seeing the faces of the officers who were killed. They were people you considered allies and friends; allies and friends that YOU got killed. These nightmares plagued you, and sleep became something few and far between. Due to constant sleep deprivation, hallucinations became close to commonplace. You tried reaching out to some of your “friends” about this, and they were less than helpful. In fact, the most common responses you got were along the lines of, “Suck it up” or “You knew this sort of thing was bound to happen when you signed up to be a cop”.

At the time, there was only one person who cared about your plight, Hank Anderson. He recently lost his son, Cole, so he knew the horrors your mind will pull on you. He was also your field training officer when you were a rookie on the force a few years ago. Soon thereafter, you also had his android partner, Connor, to talk to as well. Those two were some of the only people who were nice to you, out of the DPD, hell, even the entire city of Detroit for that matter. However, you were separate from them most of the time; you were a patrol officer, while they were detectives, so they were constantly on cases, while you were out on patrol.

Truth be told, you liked Connor; he was a great listener, very helpful, and not that bad looking either. But even with him, you painted a painting of half-truths. You didn’t want to tell him about the incident, or about the horrendous amount of survivor’s guilt, hallucinations, nightmares, and severe depression; you didn’t want him to think about you differently, nor did you want to burden him with your guilt, regrets, and failure.

Soon, suicidal thoughts and tendencies began to spring up. Whenever there was a violent altercation you had to respond to, you actively tried to get yourself killed. Reports of shots fired? You would aimlessly walk around the area, not even with your gun unholstered, hoping to get shot. Armed robbery? You would rush into the situation without thinking, knowing full well that you could die from such a careless decision. Domestic disturbance? You would just waltz into the house, not even trying to get the situation under control, and would sometimes try to instigate one of the parties into violence.

As nothing happened as a result of your careless decisions in the line of duty, you decided that you needed to take matters into your own hands. You stopped showing up to work one day without a phone call, text message, email, nothing. You didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore, so you threw your phone into the Detroit River. Unbeknownst to you, a few days after throwing the phone into the river, Hank and Connor started calling you non-stop trying to figure out why you just stopped showing up to work.

You locked yourself away in your own home, drowning your own problems in hard liquor, like Hank did all too often. You didn’t eat or sleep for three days; you didn’t care anymore; you just wanted the pain to finally stop. Soon, your service pistol sitting on your bedside table started looking more and more tantalizing. You were standing in front of your bathroom mirror, peering at the disheveled mess that stared back at you. Out of all the thoughts racing through your head, there was one phrase that you heard louder than the rest, “end it”.

You walked back to your bedroom and picked the handgun up off the bedside table. You opened the drawer to the bedside table and took out the pistol’s magazine, slid the magazine into the grip, racked back the slide, and released the slide, sending a live round into the chamber. You then sat the gun down on the bed and picked up a legal pad and a pen and began to scribble out your suicide note.

“To whoever finds this, know that I am no more. My name was (F/N) (L/N) and I was an officer for the Detroit Police Department. Please give this letter to my colleagues as I don’t really have any friends or family outside of my profession. You may want to know why I went this route, so let me explain.

I finally did it; I pulled the trigger. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to turn, and almost nobody to go to. I’ve called out into the darkness, trying to get help, hoping that someone would listen, but no one would. The people I failed on that day, their faces haunt me; they haunt my dreams, they manifest in my hallucinations, and I can’t escape them.

Every resting and waking moment are a veritable hell for me. I want the pain to stop, good God, I want it to stop, even if it comes at the cost of extinguishing my own life. If there is some sort of higher power, I hope that it gives me the mercy that I desire: the sweet release of death. It’s all just too much.

There is a message I have for two people in particular, Hank Anderson and his partner Connor. Thank you for everything. Thank you for listening and thank you for caring when everyone else didn’t. I hope you both understand that I can’t go forward anymore; the pain is just too much, and I just feel so lost and broken. Thanks for being my only beacons of light in this endless sea of darkness.”

You got up from your bed and began walking throughout your house, turning off the lights and shutting the blinds. Nothing mattered anymore; there was only pain. You walked back to the bedroom and picked the handgun up off the bed as well as the suicide note. You then walked back out into your living room where empty bottles of whiskey, vodka, rum and other garbage was strewn about. You dropped to your knees at the center of the room, the impact on the laminate floor making you slightly wince. You slid some of the garbage off the coffee table and sat the suicide note down. You then lifted the gun to your right temple and began working up the courage to pull the trigger.

Hank drifted his beaten-up Caprice around a corner as he and Connor were rushing to your house. Not a word was shared between himself and his android partner. They were both worried, but Connor wouldn’t admit it; he didn’t see himself as a deviant YET. The anemic, 170 horsepower, Chevrolet V8 growled as it was pushing 70 MPH. Nearing the end of the cul-de-sac, Hank slammed on the brakes and the 3,604-pound hunk of Detroit steel came skidding to a halt, hopping the curb and eventually stopping in your yard. The driver and passenger side doors flew open and both occupants came barreling out of the vehicle.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I hope we aren’t late.” the grizzled detective muttered as he followed behind his partner who was sprinting toward your front door.

Connor spared no time in kicking the front door open to your abode to stop you from ending your life. The door flung open with the sound of a loud crack and the splintering of wood. Your eyes were struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness, but you knew who was there: Connor. The android’s eyes were able to adjust quickly, and he saw exactly what you were doing. A popup appeared in his vision that read out, “Imminent Suicide”. In a split second, Connor calculated his probability of success: 33%, not very good odds.

Hank looked over Connor’s shoulder to see you, and it tore him apart; he was no stranger to wanting to kill himself, but looking at you, the person who was the friendliest rookie he ever met, now with a gun pressed against her own head, ripped him in half. Even though it hurt him to see you like this, he still had to draw his gun; you were armed and not all there mentally, this could also turn very dangerous for him as well. He did not want this to turn into a suicide by cop situation.

“Hank, stay back, I’ve got this. (Y/N), please put the gun down, you don’t want to do this.” Connor insisted as he slowly stepped toward you, hands outstretched to seem as unintimidating as possible.

“Connor, Hank, please go away, just let me die.” you choked out, almost begging.

PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS vvv: 26%

“I’m not going anywhere. I know that you’re scared, depressed, and thinking that it’s hopeless, but suicide is never the answer.” Connor responded, his calm demeanor starting to fade.

“You don’t know what I’m going through Connor, you never will! You’ll just think that I’m weak, and a failure, just like everyone else!” you spat, insecurity dripping from your words.

PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS vvv: 11%

Connor was thinking that he failed, that you were going to pull the trigger and you were going to be gone forever, but he had one more trick up his sleeve: he already knew about the failed traffic stop, and he could use that to his advantage.

“The traffic stop, your partner’s death, the other officers who died, you aren’t to blame, (Y/N).” Connor spoke softly, but more than loud enough for you to hear.

“How… d-do you know about that?” you squeaked, looking up at Connor in utter bewilderment that he knows.

PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS ^^^: 29%

“How I know is of no importance right now, but that whole thing, you aren’t to blame: nobody could have predicted how that would’ve happened.” Connor explained to you, his words soft like butter.

You remained silent as your mind was rushing still trying to justify your self-hatred. Was this really what you wanted? Could suicide not be the answer for the problem?

PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS ^^^: 54%

“Your partner, the other officers, that’s not your fault. You couldn’t have prevented that red ice dealer from opening fire, nor could you have prevented those other officers from dying. Tell me, (Y/N), what would your partner want you to do?” Connor queried as he stepped closer to you, now within arm’s reach.

“He-he’d want me to be strong.” you whispered but were loud enough for Connor to hear. Your grip on the handgun was starting to waver.

PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS ^^^: 81%

“That’s right, he would. You’re not weak (Y/N), but you are sick. We can help you get better, you just have to put the gun down, and we can pull you out of the darkness.” Connor was now kneeling right in front of you, looking into your eyes and his hands were on your shoulders.

You dropped the handgun and let it fall, a loud thud resonated as the polymer and steel weapon connected with the floor. Connor pulled you into a protective embrace, comforting you as you devolved into sobbing. A sense of relief swept over the RK800 as you were no longer trying to end your own life.

PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS ^^^: 100%

MISSION SUCCESSFUL

Connor sat there with you in his arms as he whispered pretty little nothings into your ear, trying to calm you down. Hank excused himself to go outside, away from you and his partner, because if he stayed in that living room any longer, he would start crying as well. As Connor held you, he looked inwards, at his own feelings, they were almost undeniable now; he was becoming a deviant.

TIME SKIP: 20 MINUTES LATER

Connor called an ambulance to take you to the hospital. He couldn’t help you all by himself, but the hospital could; they could set you on the path to getting help. The ambulance arrived and the paramedics evaluated you for any signs of immediate harm. Not seeing any, they put you on a stretcher and put you in the back of the ambulance. Connor decided to ride in the ambulance with you, while Hank followed behind in his Caprice. As you were lying in the ambulance, you wondered why Connor decided to save you. Weren’t androids supposed to be unfeeling?

“Connor, I have a question for you. Why did you save me?” you inquired of the RK800. Connor’s LED turned from its usual blue to a golden yellow as he processed what to say.

“You are an invaluable asset to the Detroit Police Department, Officer (L/N). I could not allow you to harm yourself.” Connor responded politely. You smelled bullshit; that wasn’t the case at all.

“Connor, no disrespect, but you and I both know that’s complete and utter bullshit. There are a few thousand other officers in the DPD. If I’m gone, it won’t affect the department the slightest in the long run. So, tell me, why did you REALLY save me. The truth this time.” you stated to the android looking him dead in the eyes.

“Out of the entire department, you treat me differently. Instead of treating me negatively because I am an android, you treat me as an equal, a friend even. You care about me, and you would be devastated if I were destroyed. I guess that you could say that I would feel the exact same way if you died. I value your life, and if you were gone, I don’t know what I would do.” Connor explained, truthfully this time.

“Thanks, Connor, that really means something coming from you.” you stated to the android, you were going to say more, but you were interrupted by the ambulance coming to a complete stop outside of the hospital. The double doors on the back opened and you were pulled out of the ambulance. The details for another deviant incident displayed in Connor’s vision, meaning that he had to leave, even though he didn’t want to.

“I have a case that I have to go to, but don’t worry, I’ll be back. I promise.” Connor told you with a tone of care in his voice. You nodded in response, and Connor waved goodbye to you before you saw him get into Hank’s car and leave. You hoped that he would become a deviant, because he, and the rest of his people, deserve freedom.

THE AFTERMATH

You didn’t hear anything from Hank and Connor for a while and started to wonder if they got into trouble. You were already discharged from hospital and you were on a steady dose of anti-depressants, as well as going to a psychiatrist to air your problems. You were officially diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and clinical depression. For the time being, until your shrink told Fowler that you were clear to resume active duty, you were put on paid, administrative leave.

You were watching on the news that the androids had peacefully achieved their freedom and the President ordered the US Army to stand down. The president also gave her public announcement to the country regarding the situation. Just as she said that Detroit was being evacuated, you got a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” you asked, wondering who the hell was knocking on your door this late.

“I’m Sergeant Kowalski with the US Army. There is an evacuation order underway, we need you to leave-“ the soldier responded before being interrupted by you.

“I don’t care who your orders are from or any of that bullshit, but I'm not leaving my home. You want me to leave, get an eviction order from the Wayne County Circuit Court. Leave me alone.” you told the soldier in a curt manner that was really just you telling him to ‘fuck off’ without using the terse term.

“Understood, ma’am. Have a good night.” the soldier responded kindly, but he honestly thought you were an idiot for staying in a city that has effectively been taken over by androids.

You got up from your couch and went over to your fridge and got a can of beer before sitting back down and continuing to watch the news reporting on what was happening. You opened the can and took a sip; you were accustomed to the bitter taste. You took another sip every couple minutes as you watched the news. You heard another knock on the door, and you thought that the soldier didn’t get the hint.

“Listen here ‘Captain America’, I told you to fuck off already; I’m NOT leaving my home.” you curtly responded, this time telling the person to fuck off.

“It’s Connor.” you heard the android respond, sounding slightly amused.

“SHIT! Sorry, Connor, thought you were someone else.” you replied, sounding embarrassed that you told your friend to ‘fuck off’.

You sat your beer down on the coffee table, got up and went to the door to greet your guest. When you unlocked the door and opened it, you were greeted by the sight of your close friend and savior. Upon seeing that you were well, Connor let a soft smile creep onto his perfect features. He pulled you into a warm embrace which you happily returned.

“(Y/N), I need to tell you something. It isn’t anything bad, but it’s something that I should have told you a while ago.” Connor softly spoke, the smile still on his face.

“You can tell me anything, Connor.” you kindly responded to the RK800, wondering what he was going to say. You saw Connor’s demeanor shift to more of a nervous one.

“When I saw you try to end your own life, I felt something deep inside of me. I pushed it down at the time, because I didn’t want to be a deviant at that time. What I felt was sorrow, (Y/N). I couldn’t live with myself if I let you get hurt. When we were in that ambulance, I wanted to tell you this, but now is as good of a time as any. I love you, (Y/N).” Connor confessed. He was still nervously fidgeting as he was worried that you would reject him.

Those worries left his mind when you leapt forward and planted a kiss on his lips. The android was shocked for a fraction of a second before he began returning the gesture. His arms snaked around the small of your back to give him some grip. He could stay like this forever, but he knew that you couldn’t, and he should probably let you get some air. He pulled away to let you breathe, and as he did so, he lovingly gazed down at you.

“I love you too Connor.” you stated as you returned the android’s gaze.

You were happy; Connor was a deviant and exploring his humanity, and what is a more human emotion than love? You stayed in Connor’s warm embrace and rested your forehead against his. You were content to stay here with your savior, your guardian angel, but most importantly, your lover.

“I know that you would like to stay like this, but you need sleep; it’s well past 1 ‘o clock in the morning.” Connor advised you, reminding you about your sleep schedule.

“I’ll go to sleep Connor, if you’ll stay here with me.” you negotiated with the android. Connor placed a chaste kiss on your forehead before humming appreciatively.

“Okay, I’ll stay (Y/N). I wouldn’t dream of leaving.” Connor lovingly stated as you walked him into your home.

Before going to bed, he helped you clean a bit by dumping the half-empty beer down the drain and throwing the can in the trash. You brushed your teeth and put on a more comfortable set of clothes before lying down on the bed with Connor beside you, holding you in a warm and loving embrace. No words were exchanged as they were not needed. Within a mere twenty minutes, you were fast asleep with your guardian angel right there next to you.

[firelxdykatara]

🔥 tvd. unleash the salt.

YOU BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELF MEEKS

-cough-

no but ok, my biggest unpopular opinion re: tvd? (judging mostly from what i’ve seen come out of what’s left of the ‘fandom’ since s6 when 99% of it jumped fuckin’ ship, but anyway)

the show turning to shit had absolutely nothing to do with delena becoming canon

like, i’ll be reading someone’s anti tvd post, and i’ll see something like ‘it started going downhill in s4′ and nod along, but then ‘when dullena became canon’ and it’s like -record scratch-

no. hold up. -squirts with a waterbottle-

anyone who didn’t realize that damon and elena were being set up to become canon down the line as early as season one were either in denial or just weren’t paying attention. i could write for days about all the signs and all the ways their relationship developed and how they each developed as characters, but i don’t have the energy to focus on the good about tvd anymore so i don’t feel like it. (i always have energy for salt, though. must be my high-sodium diet.)

there are a couple things we know for a fact about early tvd. one is that kevin williamson was largely in charge of the show as head showrunner for the first three seasons. another is that williamson left the show after season three–his name was still on it, but he moved onto another project, and julie plec was left in charge. given those two facts, and my belief that the show’s decline in s4 was far more gradual and less visible than it was in s5, when the show jumped the shark and over a fucking cliff, we (or at least i do, you don’t have to agree but it’s the story that makes the most sense to me so i’m sticking to it) can infer that kevin williamson left at least something of an outline behind for the season following his departure, and the rest was left up to julie as she meandered her way through three more seasons–two of which the show should never have had–with only the vaguest idea of an endpoint in mind.

(as early as season 2, julie said that she and kevin already knew how they wanted the show to end–or at least, they knew what they wanted the last words to be. given that the series finale ended the same way the pilot episode did, with damon showing up on stefan’s porch wearing his trademark smirk and saying ‘hello brother’, i can buy that they had this particular scene in mind when initially planning the overall series arc. i also think that julie plec went mad with the power she suddenly had over the story once williamson left, and any other tentative plans that may have been made were either forgotten or discarded in favor of magic vampire uteruses and pointless romantic arcs and killing characters off right before the end of the show for no real reason. but anyway, i digress.)

I THINK I’VE GOTTEN A LITTLE OFF TOPIC. anyway. if delena wasn’t the beginning of the end (we’ve established that delena–if not as an endgame, but certainly as a relationship that would need to be explored–was in the cards from the very beginning, and had achieved most of its crucial relationship beats by the s3 finale [all that remained was elena gaining closure for her decaying relationship with stefan before she could fully move on]), what was?

two things, primarily: the sire bond, and the cure.

now, neither of these things seemed particularly egregious at first. in fact, up until the end of the season, i was convinced the sire bond would be revealed to have never actually existed, because the ‘signs’ were so badly contrived that they had to be red herrings designed to make the characters doubt themselves and their feelings. in hindsight, i realize the piss poor writing surrounding the bond was emblematic of issues that would plague, and eventually destroy, the rest of the series. and until it came back in season six and undid literal years worth of character development for the central character of the fucking series, i actually thought the cure plotline in s4 was a stroke of brilliance–shoddily handled in a few places, but still solid enough in execution to make up for it.

because elena, having become a vampire, needed to have the option to become human again presented to her–and then she needed to reject it. Which she did, twice, at the end of the season–first when she offered it to Stefan without a second thought, and second when she shoved it down Katherine’s throat, again without a moment of hesitation. (Technically three times, if you count the fact that she was ready to force it on Damon, but that, at least, was motivated by her desire to save his life, since he was dying from werewolf venom at the time.)

elena’s arc throughout season 4 (and that’s another of my unpopular opinions–elena didn’t change into an unrecognizable monster when she became a vampire, becoming a vampire allowed her to let go of the gloomy graveyard girl and finally learn to love LIVING again, and the fandom was so used to her as the suicidal martyr ready to sacrifice anything and everything without a second’s hesitation that they turned on her, en masse, when she realized it was actually ok to want things for herself but…. that’s a different rant altogether, ahem ANYWAY) was about learning how to be herself again.

not herself as she was immediately pre-vamping–herself as she was before her parents died. it’s no coincidence, i think, that the s3 finale (when she was being turned) and then s4 were some of the only real glimpses we got of elena’s parents, and her life with them before they died. she literally hallucinated her mother, in one of the most heartbreaking scenes of the entire show, trying to convince her to kill herself because of what she’d become–but this, notably, was a curse enacted on her by a vampire hunter. (here’s another unpopular opinion–elena killing connor had nothing to do with the sire bond. she would have killed him anyway, because he was threatening her brother’s life. am i the only one who remembers that elena, as a human, went to denver with the sole purpose of figuring out which original sired mary, so she’d know which ones it was safe to kill to protect her family? she was a human and willing to kill 75% of all remaining vampires on the planet. girl could be fucking ruthless when it came to protecting the people she loved, especially after losing so many.)

“mommy, i never meant to disappoint you.”

and then the sun came up. and just as the light hit her and began to burn, because she’d thrown her ring into the river, she looked to damon and whispered his name, panic in her eyes–because she suddenly realized she didn’t want to die. she wanted to LIVE. she DESERVED to live. and damon did what he always did best–he saved elena gilbert’s life. and that’s when she realized she couldn’t keep ignoring the things she felt for him, the way her feelings for stefan had never really recovered, the fact that she wanted to learn to enjoy the life she had instead of subscribing to stefan’s tortured broody vampire bullshit.

(ok, in fairness to stefan [loathe as i am to be fair to mister Hero Hair], i don’t think he actually realized what he was doing to elena. i don’t think he quite understood just how badly he was feeding into her self-loathing and how much he was making her think she would become a monster just like him–just like ripper!stefan if she didn’t take to the bunny diet and make like a good little vampire who never stepped a toe out of line. but i do think that as those first few episodes wore on, elena realized, more and more, that she would not survive being a vampire if she had to do things stefan’s way. and it became clear that the elena stefan was in love with was the idealized, human version of elena who’d died going over that bridge–the elena who could remind stefan of his own humanity and be his anchor to non-ripperness. she couldn’t be his sober companion/humanity anchor if she wasn’t subscribing to his bunny blood ideals.)

the bottom line being, season 4 was about elena not only becoming a vampire, but learning to enjoy her life AS a vampire. no, it wasn’t something she’d chosen for herself, and maybe it wasn’t something she ever would have chosen for herself–considering that even as far back as the end of s2, when the possibility of turning was first presented to her as a real possibility, she was talking about a future where she grew old and maybe even had kids and started a family, things she wouldn’t be able to do with stefan, meaning that even then, in the back of her mind, their relationship came with a potential expiry date (and then we got ‘i can’t think about always, i can only think about right now‘ in the s3 finale, further cementing that)–but while she’d gotten exposed to so much of the darkness inherent in being a vampire throughout the first three seasons and then her own vampiric awakening, she also got to see the good.

her no-humanity arc was kind of essential for this, btw. (is this an unpopular opinion? probably. i’m gonna pretend it is so it doesn’t seem like i’ve gone too far afield here.) which is another reason i hated that stupid fucking sire bond, after i gave up the idea it’d be revealed to be fake, and choose to ignore it in my own interpretation of canon–because there was no need for it. elena just lost her brother, the one remaining member of her immediate family, the one she’d gone to extraordinary lengths the entire season to protect. she was in unimaginable fucking pain. she was in agony, because not only was her brother dead, but she was still a very new vampire and her emotions were spiraling out of fucking control.

she would have absolutely destroyed herself in her grief, if she hadn’t been presented with an outlet. something she absolutely would have chosen for herself, in that moment–damon talking to her softly, reminding her that there was a way she could just be without needing to feel everything, and elena latching onto that one tiny bit of hope, that maybe for now she didn’t have to be in so much pain she thought she might actually fucking die on the spot from it. elena making that choice for herself–actually, you know, having some fucking agency as the central character of the series–would have been a much better choice, both from a narrative and character perspective. BUT ANYWAY.

it was during her stint with the switch turned off that elena first got a real taste of how fun and how freeing being a vampire could be. if the Idiot Brothers hadn’t banded together to try and force elena to be human again against her will, i really don’t doubt that the worst she would’ve done was snatch-eat-erase a whole bunch of people and live it up in the seedier unberbellies of various big party cities for a while. but whatever, the damage was done and eventually elena had her switch turned on by watching matt die, and feeling the relief at seeing him wearing the gilbert ring, and etc.

she largely had vengeance in mind once she was back to her more or less ‘normal’ self, but a crucial part of her development over that particular arc was the fact that she no longer hated herself for existing.

that was huge. it wasn’t given the focus or prominence it should have had, and i’ll again blame that on the weaker writing that was filling the gaps left by kevin williamson’s departure, but elena was no longer the suicidal martyr she’d been since the beginning of the show. she enjoyed living. she reveled in the strength she had, in the fact that she was no longer the Token Human, the doppelganger whose blood attracted all kinds of atrocities. she could protect herself now. she got closure with her brother, when the ghosts came back for a while, and with alaric, and she basically gave herself permission to want to have forever with the man she loved.

(and the fandom villified her, for it. because of fucking course they did. because she was a teenage girl who’d spent most of the previous four seasons dying or preparing to die or literally ready to slit her own throat without a second’s hesitation when it came to protecting people she cared about, but now that she’d decided it was ok to want to be selfish for a while and be with who she wanted without feeling guilty, suddenly it was open fucking season. but ANYWAY.)

where was i?

oh. yeah. season 5.

like i said, season 4 was a little shaky, but more or less solid–it wasn’t until after season 6 that i realized the signs of the show’s downfall had started in s4, with the cure and the sire bond heralding much worse things to come. it was s5 where the show really went off the rails.

here’s another unpopular opinion–it was absolutely character regression to have damon acting out the way he did that season. yes, in seasons past, damon acting out was a big part of his progression–two steps forward, one step back, but still slowly but steadily moving forward. but by the time we get to s5, damon had literally everything he wanted. he was BLISSFULLY happy, with the woman of his dreams, living in utter domestic bliss for an entire summer before she went off to university. and this trashfire of a show actually tried to convince me that he would’ve left their bedroom for more than five minutes, let alone long enough to drive across the state and murder some innocent human woman over a sixty-year-old grudge he’d never so much as thought about the entire time he was in mystic falls????? really?????

as if that weren’t enough, this man who witnessed, first hand, elena’s love for her brother, and who had grown to love him too–who was desperate to save his life on more than one occasion, including VERY RECENTLY in the show–would let enzo waltz in and nearly murder him??? i’m????? god

and then katherine stole elena’s body, and i was fucking done.

 literally ragequit the show once elena got her body back, because i was that fucking pissed. they literally had to do so much character regression and assassination to even make it work???? they had to put bonnie on a bus to ‘away from the main plot’ville just so that she couldn’t tell anyone that katherine hadn’t actually crossed over–even though she was right fucking there in the living room with them when she saw katherine’s ghost, and she would have known immediately that something was wrong because katherine disappeared rather than crossing over. and then they had to make damon devolve so he wouldn’t be in a position to realize elena wasn’t herself. and then everyone else carried the fucking idiot ball, except matt who was promptly compelled, and TYLER who nearly died about it, ALL so that no one would notice what had happened until damon was right there with katherine!elena trying to get him to kill her so she could kill him so he wouldn’t reveal what she’d done, and i JUST.

anyway. the awful thing is, the last few episodes of season 5 were really fucking good. it felt like the show had gone back to circa s3 levels of writing. and then s6 was ok for two episodes and then…. fucking nosedived off a cliff and into the abyss.

elena losing all her good memories of damon just so she could fall in love with him all over again was one of the worst writing decisions ever made. just, in history. completely. we didn’t need to see them fall in love in a rushed and half-assed manner when we’d already gotten a beautiful four-season arc of their love story. at the VERY LEAST, they could have had her just lose all her memories, similar to stefan’s s5 memory wipe, so that it wouldn’t seem weird that she thought he was a monster and loved him anyway because something something toxic bullshit. (oh, yeah, i’m still bitter af that they had to beat us over the head with DELENA IS TOXIC YOU GAIZ as if they didn’t have one of the healthier relationships in the show until it was decided that there wasn’t enough drama so they had to make damon regress and elena excuse it in a series of increasingly ooc writing decisions)

UH. ANYWAY YEAH.

as a sidenote, tyler and elena’s friendship had a lot of potential to be something kind of fucking amazing, and it’s one of the most underrated friendships in the fandom, which is a fucking shame because i would have loved to see them get closer and have a real bond as supernatural orphans who’d had almost everything and everyone they cared about torn away at one point or another.

god. ugh. TL;DR: delena was planned from the beginning and was in no way responsible for the show going to shit, it just had the unfortunate timing of becoming canon right before the show became terrible; elena gilbert was an amazing protagonist and character in general, who should not have been hated for daring to be a teenage girl who wasn’t always fully aware or in control of her own feelings, and who dealt with so much grief and trauma in such a short time that it’s nothing short of a miracle that she eventually found her way back to the girl she’d been before, happy and sure of herself, and people just couldn’t recognize elena when she was happy so they decided she randomly changed when she became a vampire and it was All Damon’s and Delena’s Fault; stefan was a terrible boyfriend for most of their relationship; damon was wildly out of character for most of season 5; and the memory loss arc in s6 was pathetic and actively harmful to the show as a whole and especially damon and elena’s relationship and perception in fandom; oh, and tyler and elena had an amazing and horribly underrated friendship that should have gotten a lot more focus than it did. (i’m still mad tyler was put on a bus so much rather than allowed to be like, present in the lives of his only remaining friends lmfao.)

[queenofcats17]

The Ink Demonth 2

Today is Growth. So it’s Joey and Bertie time~ We’re gonna have some emotional growth!

Featuring my Joey very prominently

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

Bertram had never expected to see Joey Drew again. After Henry had freed the former employees from the studio, most had gone their separate ways. Some still kept in touch from what Bertram understood, but most of them had tried to get on with their lives and put the events of the studio behind them. Certainly, no one was trying to keep in contact with the man who’d done this to them. Lacie still kept in touch with Thomas, Shawn, and Grant, which by extension meant they also heard from Allison, Wally, and Jack. Bertram lived with Lacie now, in a little house in the suburbs of Milwaukee, close to his sister and her husband. He didn’t really work anymore, although Lacie had taken a job at a mechanic shop to keep herself busy. She liked staying busy. 

In any case, Bertram had never expected to see Joey Drew again. Not after everything that had happened. Not after nearly over a year. Which was why Bertram had been so surprised to look up from his book and see Joey standing on the sidewalk leading up to the porch. He immediately tensed at seeing the former studio head, ready for a fight. Part of him expected things to go the way they had the last time. Joey would speak sweet words of poison and Bertram would end up hurt or worse, drawn into the tangled web of Joey’s plans. 

But Joey looked smaller somehow, less sure of himself. There were dark circles under his eyes. The clothes he was wearing looked like hand-me-downs, judging mostly by how ill-fitting they were. His hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, a style Joey had only ever utilized on the worst of days at the studio. There were a few streaks of grey in it now. He kept wringing his hands, his eyes looking everywhere but at Bertram, and he was chewing on his lip. Bertram didn’t think he’d ever seen Joey Drew nervous before. So he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. 

“Mr. Drew.” He closed his book, setting it down beside his chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Joey blinked, stunned by the fact that he hadn’t immediately been yelled at. He stood there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Across the street, a car honked. 

“Talk to him!” A woman yelled, sticking her head out of the car. She bore a familial resemblance to Joey, especially in the face shape and the nose. A sister, Bertram concluded. He’d heard Joey had an older sister he wasn’t close to.

“I’m going to!” Joey went bright red, turning back to yell back at her. 

“I suppose that’s your sister, then.” Bertram smiled despite himself. 

“Oh, um, yes.” Joey turned back to him. “I’ve, uh, I’ve been staying with her and her family lately. She’s been...helping me.” He smiled slightly, gazing down at his feet. The expression was tender and soft. So different from anything he’d displayed while he’d been head of the studio.

“Would you like to come inside?” Bertram rose from his chair. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to intrude.” Joey smiled nervously. “I only really came here to say one thing. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“You’ve come all this way.” Bertram gestured him over, opening the front door. “It would be rude to turn you away without inviting you in.”

“Well...alright.” Joey gave a quick thumbs up to his sister in the car and went inside. 

The house was small but tidy. Bertram had done a lot of organization since they’d moved in. His sister had had his things stored away, so he was able to have most of his comforts once again. Lacie’s possessions had been lost as her landlord had thrown them out after she’d been missing for six months. She’d been upset at this, but there wasn’t much they could do. He’d comforted her as best he could. They had new things now. Books and house plants and little machines Bertram had been tinkering with. Bertram was particularly proud of the house plants. Wally had been teaching him how to properly take care of them and he hadn’t killed one in nearly a month!

“This is really nice.” Joey looked around in wonder. 

“Thank you, I’ve done quite a lot of work to make it look good.” Bertram beamed. “I picked out the paint colors, but we ended up having to ask Mr. Flynn to assist us with properly painting. Lacie and Mr. Connor built the shelves themselves. She didn’t really trust a store to make them properly.” 

He continued talking about the work they’d done as he led Joey to the kitchen. Joey was a little taken aback to see the park design so happy and open. He wasn’t sure if any of the other studio employees had ever seen this side of Bertram, but he certainly hadn’t. He’d probably been responsible for the majority of Bertram’s misery at the studio. He certainly hadn’t made things easy for him.

“In any case, what brings you here?” 

“Um, sorry?” Joey snapped back to reality, realizing they had reached the kitchen. It was just as cozy as the rest of the house. There was a cat calendar on the wall, little knick-knacks on the shelves, a good number of cookbooks. 

“What brings you here?” Bertram repeated, moving to fill up a kettle. “Milwaukee is a long way from New York. That is where you’re staying, yes?”

“Oh, yes.” Joey hovered nervously beside the kitchen table. “Well, I, uh, um...” He licked his, eyes darting around the room. Bertram set the kettle on the stove, turning it on. He kept his back to Joey, sensing it might be easier for the other man to say what he needed to say if Bertram’s eyes weren’t on him. 

“I came...to apologize.” Joey finally said after a minute of hesitation and stammering. 

“To apologize?” Bertram asked. His voice was neutral, but his grip on the counter loosened. He hadn’t entirely realized how tight he’d been gripping it.

“Yes.” Joey nodded, fumbling out a piece of paper from his pocket. “I, um, I have a list I’ve been working down. Former employees I need to apologize to. Essie said it would be good for me to make amends.”

“That’s good of you.” Bertram smiled to himself, getting out a few cups and some teabags. 

“You all deserve an apology. You deserve so much more than that too.” Joey clutched the paper to his chest, hunching his shoulders. “But...An apology is all I can really give. I can’t...I can’t undo what I did. So...” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m truly and utterly sorry. The things I did are inexcusable and reprehensible and I understand that there is nothing I can truly do to fix this.”

“That is true. There is precious little you can do to fix your mistakes.” Bertram poured the boiling water into the cups, turning and putting them on the table. “Still, I appreciate that you are attempting to make amends. The Drew I met in that damnable studio would never do such a thing unless he had to.” He settled at the table, stirring the tea with a spoon. 

“I...Is that a compliment?” Joey’s brow furrowed in concern. He was still waiting for the moment when Bertram would snap, would berate him for all he’d done.

“It is,” Bertram assured him. “I believe you are a better man than you were. Or you are trying to become better at the very least.” Joey watched him for a moment or two, relief and confusion mixing on his features. Finally, though, he smiled. 

“Thank you.”

“In any case, I appreciate the apology.” Bertram continued. “Lacie should be home soon if you’d like to apologize to her as well.”

“I...I would.” Joey nodded. His shoulders hunched again at the thought of speaking with her. Lacie Benton had no tolerance for bullshit and didn’t suffer fools lightly. He couldn’t imagine she harbored any good feelings toward him. Not after everything he’d done to her.

“Well, then.” Bertram nudged a chair toward Joey. “Take a seat.”

They spent an hour together before Lacie arrived. The conversation was rather awkward at times but they knew they both needed it. Joey apologized for disrespecting Bertram time and time again, which Bertram happily accepted. Eventually, the conversation got around to their families. That was a bit of an easier topic to talk about.

“Did someone take over the company after you...disappeared?” Joey asked, visibly hesitating on the last word. 

“My sister, Charlotte, took care of it for a bit,” Bertram replied. “But it’s under the care of her son Augustus at the moment.”

“Did you try to take the company back?” Joey asked. He expected the answer would be yes. If there was something he and Bertram had in common, it was their tendency to work until their bodies or minds gave out.

“I considered the possibility, but Charlotte wouldn’t hear of it.” Bertram laughed, shaking his head. “She told me I’m a workaholic who needs to take a break.”

“Sounds familiar.” Joey murmured with a wry smile. 

“Besides, the company is in good hands.” Bertram waved a hand dismissively. “Augustus is a capable man. Charlotte and Louis did a good job raising him.”

“That must be reassuring.”

“It is.” Bertram allowed himself a small smile. “How is your family?”

“They’re...” Joey twisted his mouth, searching for the right words. “I wish I had tried to see them sooner.” His sister had gotten married. He had a niece and a nephew. A niece and a nephew who were adults and had never met him before Esther had brought him back to the house. He’d abandoned his family and now they didn’t know him anymore.

“That’s understandable.” 

Joey breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the front door open. He hadn’t particularly wanted to fall to pieces in front of Bertram. He was still emotionally raw when it came to his failings with his family. 

“I’m back.” Lacie’s voice came from the entry hall. “Went by the store and picked up some of that rose tea you liked.”

“Thank you! I’m in the kitchen!” Bertram called. Joey sat up a bit straighter, pulling out his list again. His reminder of who he needed to make amends to. The heavy sound of Lacie’s boots grew closer until she appeared in the doorway. She stared at Joey. Her jaw clenched and her hold on the tin of tea tightened. 

“What is he doing here?” The word had so much venom in it Joey almost wanted to turn and run. But he didn’t. He took a deep breath. 

“Hello, Miss Benton.” He stood up, trying to still his shaking hands. His legs were still shaking, though. “I-I’ve come here to apologize.”

“He’s already given me his apology,” Bertram said. Lacie’s eyes flicked over to him momentarily before going back to Joey. 

“Fine.”

“Than- Thank you.” Joey took a deep breath. “I’m...I’m sorry for all the things I did to you. I know that won’t fix everything I’ve done, but I want you to know that I truly regret my actions.”

The silence following his apology was excruciating for Joey. Lacie said nothing, just staring at him. It was hard to know what was going on in her mind. She’d never been the sort to wear her heart on her sleeve. Finally, Lacie spoke.

“I accept your apology.” She said. “But I’m not going to forgive you.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to.”

“Good.” Lacie turned away from him, heading to put the tin in a cupboard. “Thank you for coming to apologize.”

“You’re welcome.” Joey put his list away, breathing an internal sigh of relief. “I should probably be going now. Esther’s probably wondering why I’ve been in here so long.”

“Safe travels.” Bertram escorted him out.

Joey smiled to himself as he made his way back to Esther’s car. He’d been terrified he’d get cursed out, yelled at. That they would throw things at him. Gods knew he deserved it. But they hadn’t. They hadn’t forgiven him, but they’d accepted his apology.

“You were in there for a long time,” Esther said as he got back in. “Did everything go alright?”

“It did.” Joey nodded, feeling the tears starting to well up. “It went really well.” 

Esther smiled gently, leaning over to hug him. “I’m proud of you, Jojo. You’re doing a good thing.”

Joey sniffled loudly, burying his face in his sister’s chest. The guilt wasn’t ever going to go away, he was sure of that, but it felt good to have his apologies accepted. He was making progress. They all were. 

[cxnsigliere]

King’s Backstory.

Warnings; mentions of:

teenage pregnancy / teenage birth

large age-gap relationships

physical abuse / physically abusive relationships

sexual abuse / sexual manipulation / sexually abusive relationships

prostitution / underage prostitution

pedophilia

rape

suicide threats / suicide

strangulation / death by strangulation

Note: Please keep in mind that I am in no way glorifying the messed up things that take place in this backstory at all! King has done things or has had things happen to him that I would NEVER approve of and that I DON’T condone in any way, shape, or form. These are simply things that... just happened to him, shaping him into the character he is now. Please don’t think I’m fetishizing or romanticizing anything here or something like that. SO, now that that’s out of the way, I present you... King’s full backstory!

     Hildred--now known as “King”--was born on October 7, to Garrett and Clarisse Brasher, who were both only seventeen years old--seniors in high school--when they had the baby. Garrett would eventually become a respected capo of the Giraldi Mafia family when he was around 23, though surprisingly enough, he had been a very emotional and sensitive man, perhaps unfitting for his line of work. Clarisse had gone to law school when she was 19, then becoming an attorney when she was 26--she was a very rude woman through and through, even to her husband and especially to her child.

     Because they had Hildred at such a young age, their respective parents had pressured the young couple into getting married as soon as they could, thus tying the knot the minute they graduated high school, 18 years old. However, it had been clear to just about anyone who knew either of them that their relationship wasn’t healthy in the slightest. They argued constantly. Garrett loved his wife more than anything in the world, and did everything he could in order to provide for her and their son, giving them more than enough money than the family probably needed. Clarisse, on the other hand, never showed any appreciation for her husband, and in fact came to resent both him and their baby--she had dreams of becoming a world-famous jazz singer, which Garrett had promised he could make happen for her when they had first gotten together in the first place, but because of their hassle with the young pregnancy and to get married so quickly, it never happened for her. So Clarisse blamed the both of them for that. While Garrett was not home, she would very frequently physically and verbally abuse Hildred. She and Garrett later had two other children, Zariah and Connor, years later.

     It wasn’t long until Garrett’s way of life was, of course, the Mafia. Though he was a good man, his morality was astray--he thought that money was what made people happy, and so he worked hard in any way he could to make that money for his family--even if that involved committing crime, such as loansharking, gambling, extortion, political corruption, and even murder. These were all things that Garrett viewed as bad, but had good outcomes in the long-run. If he killed somebody, yes, it was sad and he would regret it, but in the end, the money he gets from that would make his wife and children happy--and wasn’t that what really mattered?

     So, with that mentality in mind, Garrett had wanted that same fortune for his son as he got older. He raised Hildred to someday become a made man in the Mafia himself, to know exactly what his job was like--unlike most Mafioso parents, who would typically keep their line of work a complete and utter secret from their family. Garrett taught Hildred how to shoot a gun. He taught Hildred how to intimidate people if anyone ever gave him trouble. He taught Hildred to always throw the first punch in a fight. He taught Hildred to never tell anyone, even close friends, what Garrett did for a living. And Hildred was a quick learner--he did exactly as his father told him to.

     But instead of growing up bold and noble like Garrett had planned him to, Hildred grew up to be quite a bully as a child, violent and arrogant, and had anger issues like you could never believe, even given his young age. He had absolutely no friends growing up. He got into fights constantly with his fellow students at school, cussed out teachers, made poor grades, all very much to the dismay of his father, who could only gently tell Hildred that this behavior was going to get him nowhere in life, but it only did so much. The child’s terrible attitude and mentality carried with him throughout most of his life, up to the age of 16 or so, if not older.

     When Hildred was 13 years old, he had managed to court a girl, an 18-year-old cheerleader in his school, named Lainey Chung. Many of their peers were surprised by the fact that Lainey, one of the most popular girls in school, would date this overweight bastard delinquent with no friends, but in truth, the only reason Lainey went out with Hildred was for the sex--which he had assumed was perfectly normal, given it was his first relationship. Hildred lost his virginity to Lainey within the first two days of dating each other--and their relationship came to an abrupt end when he had found out that she was cheating on him with a senior football player, Trystan Carballal, after only one week of dating.

     Ironically enough, despite his temper, Hildred did not fight Trystan over this. Admittedly, he hadn’t really grown that attached to Lainey--they didn’t last very long, after all. Actually, Trystan and Lainey didn’t last long, either. They broke up after a few months for the exact same reason Hildred had broken up with Lainey for--she cheated on him. Though unlike Hildred, Trystan was genuinely hurt by this, and came to Hildred after they had broken up, because he knew that they were in the same boat now.

     Trystan was then Hildred’s first real friend, though it was a little awkward between them at first. It wasn’t long until Trystan told to Hildred in confidence that he was bisexual, but was terrified of the truth coming out to the rest of the school. Of course Hildred didn’t care what Trystan’s sexuality was, and thought nothing of it at first--until it made Hildred begin to realize that he was developing the same feelings for Trystan that he had developed for Lainey, realizing that he may be bisexual as well. Or gay. Maybe straight. He was never quite sure. One thing he knew, though, was that he liked Trystan--that much he could be sure of.

     Eventually there came a time that Hildred would tell his feelings to Trystan. He was delighted when the feelings were requited, and the two formed a relationship--although it remained a secret from everyone, since they both were in the closet.

     However, he came to realize that Trystan was not too far off from Lainey. He never cheated on him, but used the younger boy for sex constantly. Again, Hildred just guessed that this was normal for every relationship, and could never bring himself to say no whenever Trystan would make any advances on him, just wanting to make him happy--and afraid of the consequences if he said no. There came a point where Hildred just became blindly obedient to the senior football player, answering to his every request like a puppy wagging its tail when its owner calls.

     One day Trystan told his boyfriend, “there’s a car park down in Manhattan where you can make extra money by having sex with older men,” inviting Hildred to do this with him, “for support,” as Trystan referred to it. At first Hildred was obviously very hesitant about this, but because he didn’t want to disappoint him, he agreed to it, and began going down to that car park after school with Trystan, where he would perform sexual favors for these older men, mostly middle-aged, nearly every day. At the time, he honestly thought nothing of it, or didn’t fully realize the affect this would seriously have on him both mentally and physically until it was far too late.

     This went on for about two years. On one particular night, while waiting for the subway to go back home, coming back from this car park, the 14-year-old Hildred hadn’t even noticed a man stalking him. Judging from this man’s appearance alone, he must have been in his mid-thirties to early forties. Hildred was all alone, this being a rather secluded area unbeknownst to hardly anyone. So, with no witnesses around, the man grabbed Hildred from behind, dragging him into a nearby alleyway. The attacker knocked the boy down, then smashed his face onto the ground with one hand and ripped his pants off with the other. He does not remember anything after that, other than waking up in the hospital with his father, his 7-year-old sister and 3-year-old brother by the side of the bed, sobbing as they worried about Hildred’s well being. This was how his parents finally found out about what Hildred had been doing every day after school, which of course Hildred had never dared to tell them before. This put a bit of a rift between him and his parents--his mother especially. His father did not blame him for what happened to him, but only wished that he wouldn’t have kept all of this a secret for so long. After Garrett had found out what those men had done to Hildred, he gathered people from Giraldi--the Mafia family he worked for--to raid the car park, killing every pervert there and shutting the entire place down. Trystan was obviously upset about this, knowing it had been his boyfriend’s father to have done this, and so he broke up with Hildred, leaving the younger boy in shambles.

     After he healed and returned to school, Hildred was obviously deeply hurt by everything that had happened, and by the breakup with Trystan. He couldn’t even tell anyone that he had just gotten molested. Only his parents knew--and that hadn’t even been his own choice. He had, however, reached out to a rape crisis helpline one time in secret, but was told very matter-of-factly by the woman operator on the other end, “This number is only for girls and women--men are the abusers. Women are the victims,” and she hung up to, “terminate the call so that they can help real victims.” Given this was in the early 2000s, male rape was not really considered real by many people at the time--especially not a male of his bulk. Though he was young, he was already nearing six feet tall and was vastly overweight. So, aside from the support only from his father, Hildred was completely and utterly alone on this, forced to keep silent.

     The only other person that Hildred went out of his way to seek help from was his mother, Clarisse--which turned out to be a mistake. When Hildred had anxiously asked if he could perhaps see a professional about this, a therapist, she only got angry and shouted at him. “It’s your own fucking fault that you’re a goddamn mess, ain’t it? Grow up! You went to that car park in your own free will! You’re just a whore--I’ve got a slut for a son. How do you think that makes me feel, huh?”

     And then Hildred began to cry.

     This angered Clarisse even more. Since Garrett wasn’t home at the time, Clarisse saw no problem in grabbing the boy and forcibly drugging him in order to shut him up and keep quiet--but that’s not all it was for, either. She had then took his clothes off, tied him to the kitchen table, where she then performed a botched enema on him. He hadn’t even completely passed out, lying awake while this all happened, but because of his dazed state, he couldn’t even do anything to stop it.

     Afterwards, being without the help that he clearly needed, Hildred still had a bad tendency to sleep around with older men he would meet up with, and the other students in school--most of them boys, several girls. At this point, the fights he frequently got into, just his over all anger issues, were still very much prevalent, but now he just desperately wanted to fill the void where Lainey and Trystan (particularly the latter) had been--and at this point, he firmly believed that the only thing he was ever any good for was sex, figuring that was the key to making people like him. His perception of healthy relationships was completely warped now, and he was willing to accept just about anybody that came into his life.

     Rumors did spread throughout the school of Hildred’s past in the car park, though no one knew for certain if it was true. One of his teachers, Mr. Chance Ortiz, had heard about this, and instead of talking to Hildred about it, the man simply came to resent the student for it, though he never said why. In the beginning, this wasn’t so bad--he would simply do things like “lose” Hildred’s schoolwork, deliberately giving him poor grades, the like. Hildred, being the delinquent he was, didn’t take kindly to this treatment, and began to act out towards this particular teacher than he ever had with anyone else before. He started playing pranks on the teacher weekly--super-gluing his desk-drawer from opening, putting an apple in the tailpipe of his car, throwing water balloons out of the second story window right onto the teacher down below, even putting laxatives in his coffee. This “war”, as the other students called it, went on for about two years, up until Hildred was 16 years old.

     Finally there came a time that Hildred inevitably got detention for this. He was now 16, sitting inside Mr. Ortiz’s classroom after school all by himself, accompanied only by Ortiz himself. Hildred attempted to strike up conversation with the man--nothing too bad. Simply things like, “hey, when am I getting out of here again?” and, “you know, I don’t really think I did anything wrong.” This went on for a while before Ortiz snapped at the student, saying, “My God! Is everyone in your family this infuriating?!”

     It was common knowledge that Hildred’s parents both had attended this same school when they were younger. In Garrett’s youth, he had been a troublemaker as well--perhaps not quite as much as Hildred, though. Ortiz had taught Garrett and Clarisse years ago, so he knew full well how much of a handful Hildred’s parents were--particularly his father.

     This comment made Hildred pause, and he asked him, “how is my family infuriating, exactly?”

     “I knew your father when he was a teenager,” Ortiz said, as if Hildred didn’t already know the obvious. “He was just like you are now. Rebellious, obnoxious, annoying, loud. A whore, he slept around--though I would imagine he must be no different nowadays. He had you, after all.” Then he went on to say something that he clearly did not mean to say aloud, but slipped: “Dumb father, even dumber son.”

     This set the student completely over the edge as he got up from his seat, throwing his desk behind him and charging his way towards the teacher. Ortiz then realized he made a mistake--this boy was obviously not above hitting a teacher. He tried to run, but Hildred had caught him by the throat before he could make his escape. Hildred then proceeded to ram the older man’s face against the wall over and over until his face was completely unrecognizable. Ortiz was lucky to survive. He was sent to the hospital for a month, and resigned from his job shortly after that incident.

     After this, Hildred was permanently expelled from the school, and was forced to transfer. His father, greatly disappointed that his son could have done this, had insisted he go to a Catholic school. Hildred transferred to Lakeside Catholic School, an all-boys school.

     It was in Lakeside that Hildred met a boy named Luca Masini, a short, quiet bookworm, the son of a preacher who worked as an altar boy after school. Hildred found him cute, so he striked up a conversation with him. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for them to bond--Luca seemingly had no other friends, and neither did Hildred. So, they definitely found solace in that.

     Lakeside Catholic School would often have dances so that the boys may interact with the all-girls school once in a while--particularly around the holidays. In this instance, it was around Christmas. It being Hildred’s first few months there, he was honestly somewhat excited to go--but he didn’t want to go alone. Seeing as Luca was the only friend he had, Hildred had practically begged him to go with him, but Luca was never one for much social interaction with large groups of people, so at first he refused. But Hildred never gave up, and eventually convinced the other boy to go.

     However, Hildred and Luca did not spend much time together as they had planned when the dance finally came around. Luca was admittedly cast aside a bit when Hildred had met three girls--a group of friends--named Amber Kennedy, Veronica Delgado, and Kiera Pickett. Amber was a short, bubbly girl who had been set on flirting with Hildred the minute she’d walked into the room. Veronica was just awkward, but sweet nonetheless, though Amber loved to insult and berate her for everything. And Kiera was quiet, often moody and was the only one of the three who pretty much refused to talk to Hildred, immediately deciding she hated him--perhaps she’d heard the rumors about him, though Hildred couldn’t be sure.

     He hit it off with Amber nearly right away. They sneaked out of the dance and into the school bathrooms, where they did it then and there, leaving Luca, Veronica and Kiera to their own devices as they cast them aside. And once they were finished up with that, Amber had given the boy her phone number, telling him, “Call me as soon as you can, okay? We should sooo do this again sometime! Outside of school and whatnot. I’d love to get to know you better!”

     And sure enough, during the following days, Hildred and Amber began to date.

     It quickly turned out that Amber was no better than Lainey or Trystan, and thus Hildred once again fell into the vicious cycle of letting himself be used for sex in this relationship. Amber was a sex addict through and through, as if it was all she ever thought about, despite being only 16--for what reason, Hildred could never be sure as he never tried to pry into her personal life, but he was sure she must have been through something awful in her life. But regardless, the rare moments when he would tell her that he didn’t want to have sex, she’d often get violent--of course not being able to do too much damage seeing as she was much smaller and weaker than him, but she’d often throw things across the room like plates and such, landing him with quite a few cuts here and there. She’d also threaten to harm or even kill herself if he ever refused to do it with her, and as such he could never really say no to her.

     An entire year into this toxic relationship, it had been Luca who had caught Amber cheating on Hildred--he’d been staying after school to talk to one of his teachers, Mr. Huber, where he then saw the 62-year-old man with Amber, who must have visited all the way from the all-girls’ school to meet up with him. Luca immediately ran, the teacher literally chased him, yelling at the boy that he’d kill him. The altar boy eventually found a hiding place at the side of the school building, where he then called Hildred and asked him to pick him up as fast as he could, that he was in trouble and that he had something to tell him. Hildred did exactly as he was told, picking Luca up and driving off to his house, where Luca told him everything that he’d just seen. Mr. Huber was soon fired from his job and, of course, arrested.

     After hearing of this, Hildred finally broke up with Amber, which surprisingly to him, left her in tears. He felt bad--when he thought of taking her back shortly after, Luca had to tell him, “Don’t you dare! She's downright awful, Hildred! You deserve so much better than that...” And so... he didn’t! He completely cut Amber out of his life for quite some time, and rightfully so.

     Then Amber visited him at his house after several months of not talking, much to Hildred’s surprise. It had been late at night while both of his parents and siblings were asleep, and he was the only one up. And it was there, right outside of the house, right at the doorstep, that Amber cried and sobbed and begged Hildred to take her back and that she could get better. He tried to refuse at first, but inevitably came the moment she told him through pouring tears, “Please--please, Hildred! I- I’ll... I’ll kill myself! I- I’ll shoot myself in the fucking head, or I’ll slit my wrists, s- so please! Please take me back!”

     This completely set Hildred over the edge. He wanted so desperately to say ‘don’t do it, I’ll stay with you,’ feeling obligated to say yes to her every command--as he had always felt for every single person who’d taken advantage of him. But he had to remember what Luca had told him. She was downright awful. He deserved so much better. He deserved so much better.

     But what he couldn’t keep under control was the voice in his head repeating over and over to him, a voice that sounded oddly like his father for some strange reason:

‘Kill her.  Kill her. Kill her. Kill her. Kill her. Kill her. Kill her. Kill her.’

     And so, without even thinking, Hildred had grabbed his ex-girlfriend by the throat, pulling the girl into the house, and strangled her to death. Fine--if she wanted to kill herself so badly, he’d just do it for her. She, of course, died, and Hildred couldn’t tell if what he felt afterwards was relief or regret. Perhaps... both? Regardless... he had never killed anyone before. When he finally came back to his senses, he panicked, screaming as he ran upstairs to his parents. When he woke them up, they came downstairs only to find a dead girl in their living room. Clarisse screamed and hid in her room, and Garrett simply responded with, “Oh... Oh, jeez...”

     Hildred tried to explain, sobbing hysterically. “I- I don’t know what came over me, I- I don’t--I- I- I jus’--!! Sh- She said she’d kill herself if I didn’t... i- if I didn’t take her back, I- I couldn’t control it, I- I couldn’t--!”

     Surprisingly, Garrett was not all that mad. He was shocked, for sure, but not mad. “Hildred, it’s... it’s okay! It’s okay. I’ll take care of this, okay? You’ll be alright. I promise.”

     Then Clarisse’s voice sounded from up the stairs, though she still refused to look at the body. “You can’t get rid of the body! Somebody might’ve seen her come here. If she gets reported missing, that’s going to seem suspicious...”

     “It’s gonna be suspicious if she’s found dead in our home, Clarisse!” Garrett said.

     "Yep, it sure will be. But, I... I’m an attorney--I can get him through this, I think.”

     Hildred sniffled. “Y- You mean... you’ll lie for me?”

     “Sure.”

     And so the wisest thing Clarisse said to do was immediately call the police--which Garrett did, albeit reluctantly. He explained to the police that the girl had come to the house with the intent to kill Hildred and tried to attack him, and he acted out of self-defense by hitting her in the head with a pan. Afterwards, Garrett had put on gloves to take a frying pan from the kitchen, bashed it over the dead Amber’s head to get it and her head nice and bloody.

     The police easily fell for all the lies that the family told them. Months later Clarisse begrudgingly lied to the court as her son’s attorney, and at first they bought everything she told them, up until the rival attorney cross examined Hildred, practically asking him question after question until he broke down and confessed.

     “Why was Amber Kennedy at your house, Hildred?” the other attorney--the Kennedy family’s attorney--asked him.

     “She... She wanted t’ get back with me after I broke up with her.”

     “Really? So, where were your parents in this ordeal? Where were they when you in... self-defense?”

     “Th- They were asleep...”

     “They didn’t hear the screams from the both of you when you fought?”

     “I- I guess not, ahah...”

     “You’d think something like that would be quite loud, wouldn’t it? Don’t you have little siblings, Hildred?”

     “...Y- Yeah, I do...”

     “Now, if your parents didn’t wake up, sure--but children have a very keen hearing sense, don’t they? Why didn’t they wake up?”

     “I- I don’t know... I- I don’t know, okay?!”

     “Would they not wake up and tell the parents if they heard or saw their brother fighting to the death with anyone?”

     “I- I don’t know!”

     “Or could it be that there were no screams at all, then? Was it a quiet death? Did you, perhaps, not hit her with a pan at all? Did you do something else? Like choke her?”

     Clarisse stood up from her stand then, defensive. “I- I object--!”

     But Hildred had bursted into tears right then and there, before exclaiming, “Y- Yes! I killed her, okay?! I- I choked her, I choked her! Sh- She said she’d kill herself if I didn’t take her back, a- and I got angry--I don’t know what came over me, I- I’m sorry, I’m sorry...!!”

     The rival attorney smirked, then said, “The defense rests, your honor,” before going back to his seat.

     And with that new confession to Amber’s death, Hildred was put into jail, and Clarisse had been fired from her job once it was found out she was lying for her son. Hildred was originally going to get seven years for committing murder, but thanks to the help of the boss of Giraldi--Malcolm Willis--paying people off, Hildred was able to get out in just two years, when he was 20 years old.

     While in jail, however, somebody had come to visit him quite frequently. Veronica Delgado, who was already a good friend of Hildred at that point. Surprisingly to him, Veronica completely understood why Hildred did what he did, and didn’t blame him at all. They eventually started dating, even despite Hildred being imprisoned.

     After getting out, Hildred and Veronica were able to be happy for a long while. Luckily Veronica was nothing like any of his exes were. She never abused him, never used him for sex, never got violent, none of that. She was genuinely sweet and understood him--a feeling which he’d never got to experience in a relationship before.

     But, on the other hand, Hildred had grown so attached to Veronica because of the fact that this was his first healthy relationship, that he was often overly clingy to the point it became a bit mentally abusive towards Veronica. Hildred, much like with what Amber had done before she was killed, would often threaten to harm or kill himself if Veronica tried to leave him, or he would threaten to kill anyone that she talked to that he became jealous of. He was possessive. Very, very possessive.

     And eventually, after Hildred had suggested to Veronica that they “get married someday,” Veronica just couldn’t handle his behavior anymore, and Hildred discovered her body hanging by rope in their room the next day. She had hung herself, all because Hildred had scared her too much from trying to break up with him someday, and terrified that she’d have to marry him.

     After Veronica’s death, a few days later, Hildred--who was now an utter wreck--had been sitting in a bar, drinking away his sorrows, when a familiar girl had approached him. Not to flirt, but rather, to call him out. It was Kiera Pickett, who had been a good friend of Amber and Veronica--particularly the latter. Kiera had attempted to kill Hildred, plunging a pocket knife through his left eye, blinding him in the eye. Luckily, Kiera was held back by security before she could do anything more, and she was carried away by police as she screamed, “You ruined my life, y- you killed them, you kill both of them, fuck you, fuck you, y- you goddamn WHORE--!!” And Hildred never saw Kiera again after that encounter, although he’d heard that she was put into a psychiatric hospital. Hildred himself was hospitalized for the injured eye and was released a week later, though he was now permanently half blind.

     Of course, this put him further into his depressive state as yet another relationship failed for him. At the very least Luca was still there to comfort him. He was the one who suggested to Hildred that he ought to get therapy now, see a professional about his clearly declining mental health--and he did for a very short while, but it didn’t last for long as he simply stopped going after a few weeks or so. Luca did, however, eventually confess feelings for Hildred in this span of time, which were very much reciprocated. So he and Luca began dating, and this time Hildred tried his best to keep his possessiveness and his temper under control, even if it was hard at times. He wasn’t going to lose Luca like he’d lost Veronica this time. They got married that year.

     One particular day, Hildred and Luca had both been on their way to Hildred’s father’s house for a nice visit, passing by a small pond which wasn’t far off from the house. However, at the pond Luca stopped in his tracks, grabbing his husband by the arm and pointed towards what he saw. It was Garrett’s body, floating face down in the water with blood everywhere. He’d been murdered.

     Out of sheer panic, Hildred had attempted to go into the murky water to drag his father’s body out, hoping that perhaps he may still be alive--though it was obvious that he wasn’t--but unfortunately for him he’d never even learned to swim, so this was a clear mistake as he nearly drowned. It’d been Luca who had to pull Hildred back, asking him, “What were you trying to achieve?!” but Hildred could only respond with sobs and screams. Garrett had just died. He was dead. His dad was dead. He could never get him back.

     Detectives never figured out who it was that killed Garrett--or whoever it was, they must have paid them off to keep it covered. Regardless, Hildred never found out. And now, it was during this time that Malcolm Willis, the boss of Giraldi, personally came to Hildred to give his condolences, and to ask him to work for him in his late consigliere’s place. That same week Malcolm’s consigliere, or basically his right-hand man, had died of natural causes, and Malcolm had personally chosen Hildred to be his new consigliere, especially seeing as he knew Garrett probably would have wanted it. Despite being an absolute wreck now, Hildred had assumed it would be what his father wanted, so he agreed to it, becoming the consigliere to the boss.

     As Hildred quickly came to learn, Giraldi’s hideout was in a large restaurant by the name of Cavallero, which was owned by Malcolm himself as a cover-up for the crimes Giraldi would commit. Everybody from Giraldi was nearly always found here, including Hildred now, who of course always brought Luca with him.

     One particular day, however, while Hildred and Luca were now 24 years old, they both hadn’t noticed a car following theirs as they made their way to Cavallero. Not too long after Hildred and Luca had walked into the restaurant, the people from the car which had been following them came in as well with guns, shooting the entire place up and killing most of the people inside. One of the many who died, much to the dismay of Hildred, was Luca, who fell dead to the ground beside him.

     Hildred hid until it was all over and the attackers were finally sent packing. There were a few survivors, such as Malcolm. However, Hildred was not found in the restaurant after that. He just... went missing. Several people got out of the building as it caught on fire, and it then exploded, killing anybody who hadn’t gotten out yet. Hildred was pronounced dead, and the Cavallero building has long since been rebuilt, now even better than it’d been before.

[piperemerald]

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Evan didn’t exactly think that he and Connor Murphy were friends. They were sort of just stuck with each other. That’s what happens when you’re the two outcasts of high school. It took until the last year of what Connor would only refer to as “hell” for the two of them to even talk to each other. It was only after the third very awkward conversation that both of them realized the benefit of putting up with each other. It doesn’t matter how odd the you are, if there are two of you other people tend to leave you alone. So they decided that they’d use each other to blend into the background for there last few months of “hell.”

Now that they’re both graduated, Evan wasn’t completely sure why Connor still wanted him around. However, when Connor asked if he was doing anything on one of the first days of their summer Evan replied that he was free. That’s how they ended up wandering a not so busy street that Evan had never seen before in his life.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Evan started.

“What?” Connor glanced at him questioningly.

“Why are we here?” Evan blurted.

“You do not want to be anywhere near my house after school is over,” Connor said, seeing this as a full explanation. “My mom and sister get crazy.”

“Oh,” Evan wasn’t sure what to say to this.

“They call it summer depression,” Connor rolled his eyes.

“I can relate to that,” Evan admits.

“It’s not depression, Hansen,” Connor sounded a little annoyed. “They’re just bored and like to torment people.”

Evan got used to Connor complaining about his family a week into hanging out with him. Evan didn’t really mind, since it seemed to make Connor less irritated when he talked about it. Evan learned to nod along, and occasionally agree when it seemed like that was what Connor needed.

“But, um,” Evan tried again. “Why are we here?”

“Because I need to get out of the house and you don’t let me touch anything at yours,” Connor’s voice was flat.

“I mean, why couldn’t we just go to the usual places?” Evan is finally able to clarify.

“Evan,” Connor laughed. “We don’t have usual places.”

“But during school—”

“Only took you there because we were skipping and I didn’t want to get caught,” Connor cut him off.

“Oh.”

“Did you seriously think I just liked to hang out at the backend of the marketplace?” Connor looked bemused.

“Maybe,” Evan mumbled.

“You’re so weird,” Connor didn’t say this like it was an insult.

“Thanks,” Evan said under his breath. “So, we’re going?”

“Somewhere,” Connor shrugged.

“You don’t know,” Evan realized.

“Nope.” This prospect seemed to please Connor. “Well, what do you usually do?”

“During the summer?” Evan stammered. “Nothing really, last year I was an intern park ranger.”

“Because you like trees,” Connor nodded.

Evan didn’t realizes Connor remembered this. Sure, he had talked about it before, but he hadn’t thought that Connor actually listened to what Evan told him at school. The thought that Connor actually paid attention put a grin on his face.

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

“There’s a park near here,” Connor stated.

“Really?”

“We’ll go there,” he decided with a smile. “That can be our new usual place.”

“Okay,” Evan laughed.

“Come on,” Connor grabbed his arm. “You walk really fucking slow.”

“Sorry,” Evan tried to say, but was cut off by Connor pulling him.

He liked this. Maybe Connor considered him a friend after all. That idea made Evan happier than he thought it would. Truth be told, Evan really did like Connor. He just didn’t think that Connor would ever think of Evan as more than a person to hide through high school with. The thought of being more was amazing.

For a second, everything was Evan’s idea of perfect. Then Connor abruptly stopped walking.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered.

“What?”

Evan followed Connor’s gaze, his eye-line stopped on a large group of people populating the sidewalk. Most of them held signs and all of them wore unpleasant expressions. Evan knew that their community wasn’t always the most accepting, but he didn’t realize that groups actually stood on street corners with “anti gay marriage” signs.

Evan didn’t want to walk past this. Sexuality or not, protesters always made him uncomfortable. Alone he would have probably ran the opposite direction. Were he with his mother or Jared, maybe he would have been able to ignore it. Being with Connor was different. A few months ago Connor had accidentally told Evan he was gay while he was ranting about something a homophobic relative has said to his sister. Evan hadn’t been able to tell Connor that he wasn’t straight either, because the thought of telling anyone that still kinda terrified him.

“They have to be right in the fucking way,” Connor muttered angrily.

“We could go somewhere else,” Evan suggested.

“No,” Connor shook his head, his expression settling for determination. “We’re going to the park.”

“Sorry,” Evan mumbled.

“It’s not your fault,” Connor told him. “Don’t apologize.”

“I know it’s not,” Evan stammered. “But you seem irritated—sorry.”

“Hansen.”

“Shutting up,” he said quickly.

“Not what I meant,” Connor sighed. “Look, just come on.”

Connor pulled him across the street and then started down the sidewalk lined with hateful stares. Evan realized that these people were looking at him. This was probably because Connor’s arm was still linked around Evan’s. It didn’t look like Connor was doing this because he didn’t think Evan was going to be able to walk quickly alone. Evan knew what it looked like, and why so many eyes were on them now.

“We could not,” he whispered, tugging Connor’s arm.

He watched Connor look from Evan’s arm to the people around him. He expected Connor to let go, to make it clear that there was nothing at all romantic going on here. That wasn’t necessarily what Evan wanted, since, glares aside, Connor’s arm felt like his lifeline right now.    

“It’s fine,” Connor didn’t let go.

They kept walking, a little faster now. Evan felt like this sidewalk was never going to end.

“Connor?” he whispered again.

“What?” Connor’s voice was tight.

“They’re staring at us,” he stated.

“I’m going to flip them off,” Connor hissed.

“Please don’t!” Evan exclaimed a little too loudly.

“Thought you’d say that,” Connor chuckled.

“I really don’t want to have to pull you away from punching a middle aged guy,” Evan was only partly joking.

“Dude, that would be so funny though,” Connor smirked.

“Connor,” Evan groaned.

“I know, I know,” Connor rolled his eyes.

Evan was trying to only look at the ground in front of his feet. He could feel Connor’s arm clench.

“I don’t mean this to be offensive,” Evan started in a small voice. “Because I’m like kinda freaking out so I’m not really one to talk—”

“What is it?” Connor asked softly.

“You seem really tense,” Evan said. “So we could just stop.”

“I’ll tell you when we’re at the park,” Connor sounded tired.

“Why you’re turning your knuckles white?” Evan tried to clarify.

“Yeah,” Connor nodded.

It seemed like everything was going to be fine. They were almost past the signs and Evan could still breath. He didn’t see who shouted it, his eyes were still on the ground, but he heard a very loud, and very obnoxious voice yell the word “fag.” Evan didn’t have to see the shouter to know that the insult was directed at them.

He felt Connor hear it. Connor let go of Evan’s arm. Evan braced for the explosion.

“Fuck you!”

Evan had never heard Connor’s voice this full of anger, and he’d been with Connor after he was called a freak by their classmates.

He watched Connor turn on his heels, away from the countless people who now looked like they wanted to kill the both of them. The next few second seemed to pass in slow motion. Connor gave Evan an apologetic look that Evan was cut off from questioning by Connor’s hands grasping his shoulders. Then Connor’s lips were planted on his.

Connor was kissing him. Evan was barely able to register the feel of Connor’s lips, they weren’t as rough as they seemed. Connor’s breath was warm too. When he pulled back, Evan realized he was grinning.

Then they were running. Well, Connor was running, and he was pulling Evan a long with him. They didn’t stop until they were blocks away and out of breath.

“I’m sorry,” Connor panted. “That was out of line and really fucking impulsive. If you just want to go home—”

“That was kinda amazing,” Evan blurted

Connor stared at him.

“What?” Evan asked in a smaller voice. Was that the wrong thing to say?

“You’re fucking awesome,” Connor grinned again.

“Connor,” Evan said slowly, a grin forming on his face as well. “You’re the one who kissed me, I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah but you’re not freaking out,” Connor pointed out.

“I know,” Evan laughed. “I’m probably more surprised then you are.”

This entire situation should make him want to throw up, but he felt incredible.

“Okay,” Connor hesitated. “Don’t freak out now.”

Evan gave him a questioning look.

“But I was really focused on running away,” Connor winced.

“Yeah?”

“And kinda have no fucking clue where we are,” he admitted.

“What?” Evan gaped at him.

“Sorry,” Connor sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

Evan burst into laughter.

“Okay,” Connor eyed him. “Is this good laughing or bad laughing?”

“Good, I think,” Evan replied.

“Thank God,” Connor sighed.

“I need to sit down,” Evan admitted. He was starting to feel light headed.

“Right,” Connor nodded. “Yeah.”

Connor lead him to a bench, and Evan all but collapsed. His mind kept replaying that moment in front of the homophobic protesters.

“I’m gonna call my sister and see if she can pick us up, we can go to the park tomorrow or something,” Connor said. “Are you okay here?”

“Yeah,” Evan smiled at him.

“I’ll just be a second.”

He watched Connor walk a distance away, holding his phone to his ear. Evan focused on breathing. He tried not to think about Connor’s lips. Connor was just trying to shock those people, the kissing didn’t have anything to do with Evan. Still, he kept calling back the feel of Connor’s hands on his shoulders.

“Are you sure her summer depression isn’t gonna make you angry?” Evan joked when Connor walked back to him.

“Funny,” Connor rolled his eyes.

“I try,” Evan grinned.

“This is the most you’ve talked to me without stuttering,” Connor observed.

“I know,” Evan admitted. “I think it’s adrenaline.”

“I told Zoe,” Connor stated.

It took a second for Evan to realize what that meant.

“I thought you guys didn’t talk,” he remembered.

“We don’t but,” Connor paused. “Don’t tell her I told you this, but she’s had a bad experience with people like that.”

“What?”

“She was walking with her friend about a year ago,” Connor explained. “One of them said something, and then I think she told them to shut up. It escalated into shouting.”

“She didn’t get hurt, did she?” Evan asked worriedly.

“No,” Connor shook his head but his fist was clenched at the memory. “No, she’s fine. But that’s why people like that make me wanna punch something.”

“Or kiss someone,” Evan added.

“Yeah,” Connor turned to him with a tentative expression. “I should have given you warning.”

“Yeah, do that next time.”

“Next time?” Connor blinked at him.

“I mean,” Evan sputtered. “If there is, not that you’d want to—do you want to? Am I making it weird? I’m making it weird.”

“Hansen,” Connor said slowly. “Are you into me?”

“No,” Evan lied on instinct. “Well, yeah, sorry!”

“Fuck,” Connor sounded amazed.

“Sorry,” Evan heard how high his voice was.

“No,” Connor shook his head. “No, don’t apologize.”

“Sorry,” Evan wasn’t able to stop his mouth from talking.

“I said don’t,” Connor sighed.

“Right!” Evan shut up.

Connor started at him, then shook his head again.

“You realize I’ve been flirting with you for months, right?” he finally said.

“You have?” Evan gaped at him.

“My fucking god,” Connor flopped onto the bench.

“Sorry!” Evan blurted. “I mean, not sorry?”

Connor laughed.

“I’m really bad at this,” Evan muttered.

“I thought that you were straight,” Connor said absently. “Or that you just thought I was too fucked up.”

“I don’t think you’re fucked up,” Evan meant this.

“This is fucking hilarious—”

Evan cut Connor off this time by planting a kiss on his cheek. He pulled back quickly. Connor looked stunned, his heart was racing.

“So, um,” he stammered. “Do you want to go out or something? Is that what people say after…”

“Spontaneously kissing someone?” Connor provided.

“In front of homophobic protesters,” Evan added.

“I think we’re a first for that,” Connor let him know with a grin.

They were interrupted by a car honking. Connor jumped off the bench and extended a hand to Evan.

“And that would be Zoe,” he explained.

“Right,” Evan nodded.

“Come on,” Connor pulled him up but didn’t let go of his hand.

Evan was pretty sure that he and Connor weren’t friends. That was okay. He liked this better.

[zoemurph]

to have a friend, chapter two: $40

on ao3 1

here we are again. hope everyone had a good october, mine was....something. sorry if the writing style/tone changes a bit throughout, i basically wrote this in two sittings, just two sittings with a month between them

warning: discussions of mental health, mentions of suicide/suicide attempts, suicidal thoughts, let me know if other warnings need to be added

enjoy!

Connor is starting to run out of places in town where he can be alone without someone in his family finding him. Zoe is a little too perceptive and his mother has eyes everywhere. It’s kind of creepy and Connor’s sick of it.

Still, they’ve yet to find him at the old elementary school playground so far. Maybe it’s because the playground is hidden behind the school and is surrounded on two sides by tall trees. Or just because it’s in the rundown part of town, abandoned until the town can think of something better to do with a building almost as old as the town itself.

Connor is pretty sure people have broken into the school before. There are definitely serious drug deals that take place under the biggest tree on the edge of the fields. But mostly it’s just empty.

Connor’s been here before to smoke. Yeah, he’s been the creepy teenager smoking on the swingset at three in the morning before. Who the fuck cares, no one comes by here to get him in trouble. But more often then not, he just comes here to think.

He sits on a swing and holds onto the rusting chains and just stares at his knees and thinks. Or dissociates. Or both. He can’t tell anymore.

It’s been a fucking day. He definitely hadn’t planned getting yelled at by Evan Hansen into his schedule.

For one, he didn’t think Evan had it in him. For another… Connor doesn’t actually know what he’d been expecting when he sat down in the computer lab instead of going to last period. Maybe that one thing in his life would be easy. He could apologize to Evan or something and they could maybe slowly make it seem like they were drifting apart or something.

Connor doesn’t know how friends work. It’s been years since he had a real one.

And Evan isn’t even a real one.

He walks the swing in circles, twisting the chains together until he can’t twist anymore, then lifts his feet from the ground. He lets his toes drag along the ground as he spins in slow circles, the chains groaning as they untwist.

He can still hear Evan’s voice in his mind, shouting at him.

I just jumped out of a fucking tree!

He tried to backtrack so quickly. Take back the truth he’d released to the world. But Connor saw it. There had been a moment of clarity.

That was Evan Hansen.

That singular moment of honesty says more about Evan Hansen more than he will ever say about himself. He’s awkward, anxious to a fault, and suicidal. He looks at the world and he doesn’t see a future. He sees in grays and muddled tones and doesn’t see something worth fighting for.

Or maybe that’s just Connor projecting.

The swing dips a little as it stops untwisting, moving back and forth with the remaining momentum. Sometimes, sitting on these swings, he feels like a little kid. Mostly he just feels out of place.

But it’s better than home. Home, where he has no bedroom door. Home, where his mom is desperate for him to get better but doesn’t know how to help. Home, where his father doesn’t want to face the facts or him. Home, where his sister has given up.

Home, which is a building and not much more.

Connor closes his eyes and rests his head against the old chain. Childhood doesn’t feel real anymore. It’s hard to believe he was a little kid. That he was happy. That he constantly didn’t feel like shit.

His entire life has been overshadowed and stained by his present. He wishes he’d been able to wipe it out— that he’d been able to wipe him out.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Only twice. A text.

His other only calls. She leaves frantic voicemails and voicemails with forced cheer. Nothing else.

No one else contacts him.

Connor sighs and opens his eyes. The sky is starting to get dark already. As it gets closer to winter, night comes faster and god he can’t wait for the darkness to just swallow him whole.

Dramatic depressing stuff like that.

His phone buzzes in his pocket again. He leans away from the chain to pull his phone from his pocket. He squints at the overly bright screen as his eyes adjust.

From: (522) 114-8119 To: Connor      Im s o soryr I shoulnd t have  yelled a t you or said thos e things      And IM s orry that I ran out and tha t happend a dn

Connor stares at the screen. A few moments later, he gets another text.

From: (522) 114-8119 To: Connor      Cna  we talk tomorro w      After sc hool computer lba      IMs or y I can ttype righ tnow

Connor hesitates, fingers hovering over the screen. Part of him forgot he gave Evan his number. Part of him thought Evan would never try to contact him ever again.

From: Connor To: (522) 144-8119      its fine      and ok      ill see you there

—«·»—

Connor slams the front door to announce that he’s home. He doesn’t bother actually using his voice, he’s tired and ready to just lay in bed and stop existing for a while.

“Don’t slam the door,” his father says from where he’s sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper.

Connor rolls his eyes. There are only so many doors he can slam in this house nowadays. He’s going to take advantage of what he can get.

His mom leans out from the kitchen, a smile plastered onto her face. She looks tired, even though she’s trying not to. Connor knows better. As the cause of most of her stress and frustration, he absolutely knows better. “How was your first day back, sweetie?” she asks. And she’s trying to be so excited for him.

Cynthia Murphy is attempting to hold her household together with pure faked optimism alone. She is the only positive force in the family, but it’s wrong and plastic.

Connor shrugs and makes his way toward the stairs.

“Answer your mother,” Larry says. Sort of mutters, sort of uninterested sounding, sort of irritating.

Connor stops on the bottom stair with his hand on the railing and turns to look at his mom. “It was whatever.”

“Is that all?” She twists a dishrag in her hands.

He sighs. She probably deserves more than that. “It was boring. Missed a lot. I’ve got homework. Probably going to fail out of math. Lunch is still shit—”

“Language,” Larry mutters.

“And the guidance counselor only talked to me for seventeen minutes this time.” Connor glances to his mom. “So yeah. It was okay.”

Cynthia smiles again, a little less forced. “I’m glad. I’ll call you for dinner, see what you can get done, okay?”

Connor nods.

He’d rather not deal with dinner.

—«·»—

“How’s Evan?” is this first question Cynthia asks when Connor sits down for dinner and puts half a spoonful of tonight’s vegetable of the day on his plate.

“He’s fine,” Connor mutters. He needs to end this conversation as fast as humanly possible.

“That’s wonderful, he seems like a nice boy.”

Larry hums in agreement and Connor tries not to grimace. Zoe just looks bored.

“He’s…cool.” Maybe vague compliments will work until his mom gets tired of this line of questioning.

“You’ve never told us about Evan,” she muses. “You aren’t even friends on Facebook!”

Connor’s brain goes into panic mode because oh shit. Of course Cynthia checked Facebook, that’s possibly one of the most predictable things she’s ever done. Which— fuck, Connor definitely should’ve seen this coming.

“People don’t use Facebook anymore, Mom,” Zoe says flatly, staring down at her plate.

Connor glances at her and then does a double take, gesturing to her. “That.”

Cynthia purses her lips. “I still use it.”

Zoe flicks her gaze to Connor before looking back to their mom. “You know what I mean.”

“I can ask him if he has one if you want me to,” Connor says, because if this conversation doesn’t end he’s going to come up with some sort of escape plan and he does not have a good track record with those.

Cynthia smiles and, god, does Connor feel guilty. This better be worth it in the long run.

Connor goes to school like he doesn’t have to drag himself out of bed and force himself into the car. He pretends he doesn’t hate Zoe’s music choices or notice that she stops more suddenly than she has to. He just grits his teeth and focuses on the cookie cutter houses they’re passing.

He hates the suburbs.

“I have rehearsal today,” Zoe says when she parks the car. “Figure out how to get home or wait.”

Connor rolls his eyes and slams the door harder than he knows he has to. “I’ll walk,” he grumbles.

The thing about high school is that it’s boringly and horribly constant. It’s also just fucking awful, but it’s mind numbing and dull. Even if Connor actually tried, and he can’t exactly remember the last time he did, he would not be having a good time.

He’s pretty sure the only people who have a good time in high school are the people whose lives will only go downhill from here and the people who are fucking lying to themselves.

The bells are piercing and make him grimace and the awful rotating yet standard schedule is one of the worst things to ever happen to him. He hates seeing the same people in the same space every single day. He can hear Alana Beck talking his ear off about the factory system and how the American education system creates people who follows rules more than anything else as she conformed to the system and followed all the rules back when they were sophomores in a boring, standard english class that left Connor feeling tired and bored.

He stalks down the hallway, glaring whenever anyone gets too close. One of the few perks of being known as the kid who may actually try to kill someone. People leave him the fuck alone.

The last time he really did homework was the end of sophomore year. All he has to do is not fail. And that doesn’t require doing homework.

If Connor tried, he could probably be a half decent student. But Zoe tries hard enough for the both of them and he would rather just get high.

At this point, his biggest problem in school is staying conscious through the whole thing.

He spends lunch in the library, hiding in a back corner where no one ever goes and pulls a random book off the shelves and reads about someone he’s never heard of until the bell rings and he forces himself to go back to a class that makes his eyes glaze over as people discuss readings that he absolutely did not do.

Connor finds himself getting almost anxious as the end of the day nears. He’s not sure why, sure Evan wants to talk, but it can’t be that bad. Evan holds the cards at the moment, but they’re both in this mess together. The worst Connor can think of is Evan bringing Kleinman and Kleinman being…himself.

Connor stalls in his last class for a few minutes while everyone clears out. His teacher ignores him to talk to a student that actually tries and once the hallways have cleared a bit, Connor gets up and takes the long way to the computer lab.

The long way is away from the school entrance, meaning the hallways are almost empty aside from a few laggers. No one wants to spend any more time in this hellhole than necessary. With it’s annoying posters and rows and rows of never ending lockers that no one ever uses. They’re pointless, just there for show and storing things kids aren’t supposed to have on school grounds.

When Connor pushes open the door to the computer lab, Evan Hansen is awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, gripping the straps of his backpack in his hands.

Connor raises his eyebrows at him. “Hey.”

Evan takes a shaky breath. “H-hi.”

“So.” Connor drops his back on the floor and kicks it closer to one of the tables. “You wanted to talk.”

“I-I wanted to apologize,” Evan says quickly, “for yesterday because I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t have assumed or, like, implied that you were, I mean, that you wanted to—” He shakes his head. “That you were. Using me? That was— I was…confused by— confused because of, of the timing but that doesn’t mean it was…okay.”

Connor crosses his arms. “Yeah, well, if I kill myself it’s not going to be fucking performance art.”

Evan winces.

“If my family is going to mourn something they’re going to mourn actual me, not the me some stranger makes up because my mom thinks we’re buddies or something even though we aren’t even friends on Facebook.”

Evan frowns. “F-facebook?”

Connor waves a hand. “Never mind. The point is, I was using you. Just not…like that. I am using you. Currently. Present tense. If…you’re still in?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another twenty dollar bill. He holds it out to Evan.

Evan stares at it. “Y-you still want to…to do this?”

“I have three choices,” Connor says. “One: we keep doing this and then slowly break it off. Two: we fake a big fight and never speak to each other ever again. Or three: I tell my parents it was a lie. Haven’t thought that one through yet.”

Evan chews on his bottom lip. “Okay.”

Connor raises an eyebrow. “You’re in?”

Evan nods.

“Good.” He walks over to Evan and shoves the money into his hand. He yanks his hand away and shoves it in his pocket before Evan can tell it’s shaking.

“W-why—?”

“It’s been a week,” Connor explains. “There’s your twenty. We agreed to that.”

Evan stares at the bill in the palm of his hand. “Um…right. Right. Do we,” he glances up at Connor, “are there…other rules? Or like? A plan or are we just…?”

“Winging it?” Connor suggests.

Evan makes a face. “Let’s— can we not do that? That sounds like a bad idea.”

“Okay fine. Rule number one, we don’t tell anyone else about this.” Connor gestures between the two of them. “If no one else knows, it’s easier to keep it a secret.”

Evan grimaces. “J-Jared will know.”

“What?”

“He— Jared can always tell when I’m lying, he’s-he’s really good at it. It’s…kind of scary, actually.”

Connor scowls. “Seriously? Are you that bad a liar?”

Evan shakes his head quickly. “We’ve just known each other— it’s been so long he can just…tell.”

Connor sighs. “Okay then. Can we trust Jared?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“We’re fucked.”

“I-I think…” Evan trails off.

“You think what?” Connor prompts.

Evan takes a breath. “I think…if we tell him an-and explain everything, we have a better chance of him keeping it a secret. Because then he— he’s included in it or something? Since he’ll figure it out anyway it might just be best to…to tell him right away.”

If someone has to know, Connor would not have chosen Jared Kleinman to be that person. But if he has to do it…

“Whatever,” Connor decides. “We swear him to secrecy and threaten to hurt him if he tells anyone.”

Evan tugs on his shirt. “Um…yeah th-that— okay.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “I won’t actually hurt him.”

“I knew that,” Evan mutters.

“We can come up with other rules on the fly,” Connor offers.

Evan opens his mouth and then closes it quickly.

“What?”

“I…” He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

Connor groans. “It’s not nothing! Just tell me!”

“I don’t know anything about you!” Evan bursts out. “H-how do we—? We’re supposed to be best friends? How long have we been friends? What do we do when we hang out? What if people ask us questions?!”

Those are good points that Connor hadn’t considered because he’s been doing this on impulse. Obviously, Evan has thought this through a bit more. Connor runs a hand through his hair. “Are you free right now?”

“N-not right now,” Evan stutters. “Later tonight?”

“You still have my phone number?” Connor asks instead.

Evan nods.

“Text me when you’re free, we can figure stuff out then.” Connor moves to leave. “If…you’re cool with that?”

“Fine!” Evan says quickly.

Connor eyes him before shrugging and turning away. “Okay. I’ll see you later then.”

“Yeah…s-see you”

—«·»—

Connor walks home from school, because Zoe is at rehearsal for another hour and he’s a.) not hanging around school for that long and b.) not spending more time in the car with her than necessary. It takes a while and his mom is still somehow worried about him crossing a highway, but he doesn’t care. The walk is strangely nice. Kind of calming and gives him some time to think. Mostly about Evan Hansen.

Knowing his mother, they’re going to need a hell of a backstory. She likes to dig until she hits rock bottom. And then she pulls out a pick ax and starts swinging.

“I’m home!” he shouts as he throws open the front door. He closes it and waits for the usual “how was school, honey?” to come from the kitchen before he starts making his way up the stairs.

“It was fine,” he answers. “Doing homework.”

Connor didn’t think either of them believed that, but whatever. He threw his bag onto the floor and kicked off his shoes before flopping onto the bed.

Now he just has to wait for Evan.

—«·»—

Connor wakes up with a jerk when his phone starts buzzing repeatedly. He rolls onto his back and pulls his phone out of his pocket, squinting at the screen as his heart tries to calm down.

From: (522) 114-8119 To: Connor      Im hom e      Sorry if htis is a bad item for you

Connor changes the contact name from the number to Evan’s name before he responds.

From: Connor To: Evan      its fine im not doing anything      can i come over yours?

Connor glances around his room, eyes settling on the doorframe. They definitely can’t do this here. He hopes Evan is cool with them sitting in an abandoned playground if all else fails.

From: Evan To: Connor      Thats fine!!!      You need my address don t you that would probably be helplfu

He keeps laying in bed until Evan’s sent the address and Connor has found it on Google Maps. He can walk, it’s not too bad.

The world spins a little bit when he stands up from his bed, swaying and darkening as the blood rushes from his head.

Connor stumbles out of his room and down the stairs, figuring he probably doesn’t need to bring anything with him to Evan’s. All they’re going to do is talk.

He glances at the time. Hopefully his mom doesn’t care if he skips dinner tonight.

Connor takes a pit stop in the kitchen and steals an apple from the bowl on the island on his way to the front door.

“Dinner is soon,” Zoe says pointedly from where she’s leaning against the counters.

Connor ignores her. “I’m going over Evan’s,” he says to Cynthia.

She looks up from the frying pan in surprise. “You are?”

He shrugs and takes a bite of the apple. “Yeah we’re going to…” he should’ve thought of an excuse earlier, “play a video game. Or something.”

Cynthia claps her hands together. “That’s great! Have fun and let me know when you get there and when you’re on your way back, okay?” She presses a kiss to Connor’s cheek. “And make sure you eat!”

“I will,” Connor mumbles.

“You don’t even know him,” Zoe mutters.

Fuck. He should’ve known Zoe backing him up last night was an outlier. Connor glares at her and flips her off.

“Zoe, be nice,” Cynthia says firmly. “Text me when you get there, Connor.”

He nods and leaves before Zoe can make any more commentary. He can only hope she doesn’t press it while he isn’t there.

Connor eats his apple as he follows the directions on his phone. Evan’s house isn’t too far, but it’s already starting to get darker and this town is shit, so the streets aren’t exactly well lit.

He stands on a street corner and watches a truck go by with complete disregard for a stop sign before he crosses the street and turns onto Evan’s road.

Connor pauses outside the house that matches the number and description Evan gave. He sends a quick text as he walks up the walkway to the front door.

From: Connor To: Evan      outside what i think is your house      gonna knock

Connor knocks once before the door swings open. He blinks in surprise as Evan stares at him.

Connor clears his throat. “Hey…can I come in?”

Evan steps out of the way. “Y-yeah of course you can— just. Yeah, take off your shoes here that’s… You can do that.”

Connor steps inside and takes off his boots as Evan closes and locks the door. “Parents home?” he asks.

Evan shakes his head. “No my mom’s— she’s working late tonight. Long night.”

“Dad?” Connor asks absentmindedly as he drops his boots by Evan’s shoes.

He looks up when Evan doesn’t answer.

Evan is staring at the floor with his eyebrows furrowed, picking at his cast.

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean—”

“I-it’s fine,” Evan interrupts. “He’s not here. It’s just— just me and my mom.” Evan gestures down the hallway. “Let’s just— follow me.”

He leads Connor into a kitchen, smaller and older than the one in the Murphy household. There’s a twenty dollar bill sitting on the table and a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“I-I don’t have any—” Evan shakes his head. “I have money to order pizza if…you want.”

“Maybe in a bit.” Connor leans against the counter. “I uh…never apologized for taking that letter, did I?”

Evan laughs awkwardly. “N-not real— I mean it’s fine! It’s fine it’s, it’s not a big deal it’s just…”

“What?” Connor asks slowly. “What was it?”

Evan takes a deep breath and tugs on the hem of his shirt. “I-it was an assignment for— for therapy.”   

Connor raises his eyebrows. “You go to therapy?”

“Yeah? I, um, I have… severe anxiety?” Evan gestures to himself. “And depression but that’s kind of— to a lesser extent usually? But yeah. It’s um…the letter— it’s supposed to make me more positive about my day? Uh, dear Evan Hansen, today’s going t-to be a good day and here’s why…” He trails off and glances to the sink.

Connor hesitates before he says his next thought. “My parents… They thought it was a my suicide note.”  

Evan closes his eyes tightly and opens them. “Uh yeah well, I-I mean it’s…it’s supposed to be a positive thing but it’s— it’s almost never a good day? In fact it’s usually a very bad day and the first day of school was a— it wasn’t…There wasn’t much positive in it. And Zoe, I— The letter was— It wasn’t meant for you it was for this assignment. And Zoe is— after you, you know.” Evan gestures to Connor and Connor tries not to grimace.

“Zoe saw me and-and she talked to me and she’s— Ihavethisreallysillycrushonher which is silly because I don’t even know her! The letter says I don’t even know her cause I don’t, she’s just— she’s a girl who’s pretty and nice and she smiles a lot and she doesn’t seem bothered by anything.” Connor raises his eyebrows. “She seems to have herself figured out and that’s— she’s just a girl I see sometimes and I guess that’s—”

Evan ducks his head. “She saw me and she helped me up. That doesn’t happen. Not— not to me.”

Connor looks away. There are a lot of things to process in that and his mind doesn’t want to process any of them. His eyes land on the money on the table.

“What kind of pizza do you like?” Connor asks.

“W-what?”

Connor steps forward and picks up the bill. “Pizza,” he repeats. “What do you want? I’ll make the call.”

Evan blinks a few times. “Uh…cheese is fine?”

“Cool.” He pulls out his phone. “Let’s see how much food we can get for twenty bucks.”

Evan gives him a weak smile. “O-okay.”

Connor paces around the kitchen as he places the order at the pizza place. There are places in town where you can order online, but their sauce isn’t as good and their breadsticks are shitty. Once he’s hung up, he sits down at the table and gestures for Evan to do the same.

“You wanted to figure things out, right?” Connor asks, tapping his fingers on the table.

Evan nods.

“Let’s do this then.”

[everythingtimeless]

Welcome to EverythingTimeless’ Weekly Roundtable, a sprawling discussion in which your friendly neighborhood Mod Time Team breaks down episodes of our favorite show, Timeless. We can’t promise to be coherent, but we’ll try our best. 

This week: Season 1, Episode 2 - The Assassination of Abraham Lincoln

Sarah: Friends, family, Time Team. We are gathered here today. To talk about Robert Todd Lincoln. (Right? That’s what we’re here to talk about?) 

Kate: Can I say it is still to soon even if I was supposed to be prepared to? Because, RTL. 

Gissane: That’s exactly what I signed up for. I also think we should make a fan club. Posters. Tees. Mugs. ALL THINGS RTL.

Ann: Girls, we must be PROFESSIONALS about this now. We are SERIOUS bloggers. So we can only squee over Dreamboat Lincoln in due order of the episode conversation.(Also maybe set up a side-side RTL appreciation blog?)

Kate: Maybe? Definitely.

Sarah: Decorum is the name of the game. (What do you think - Robert Toddless? Thinkin’ Lincoln? Todd Team?)

Gissane: Todd Team. YES. Can we be the Todd Team?

Kate: Alright, perhaps we gather what is left of our dignity and start at the top of the episode. I shall begin with the brave opinion that John Wilkes Booth is a toady dumpster fire of a human.

Sarah: Opinion super sustained.

Ann: I always appreciate the complete and utter loathing he inspires.

Gissane: Agreed. Very much agreed.

Sarah: It really does quickly pull you into the episode - something so recognizable and startling.

Ann: It absolutely does.

Kate: Like every time I see Titanic and think they will avoid the huge chunk of floating ice, I saw it and was still somehow shocked he was assassinated? Timeless knows how to deliver the drama, even when we see it coming.

Gissane: Yup, because on a show like this, we somehow hope that it can happen, but at the same time, we know that it shouldn’t. And a huge part of that drama was that amazing debate among the Time Team. It breaks me every single time.

Ann: Well and there is the *actual* chance they can change history, they could right a wrong. And even if we know that would royally fuck up so much more, a part of us still wants to save Abraham Lincoln, you know?

Kate: I love that the team members each have a voice though. Like a passionate though respectful debate about changing the entire course of history because how do you pass up the chance to save Abraham Lincoln?

Gissane: Always save Lincoln. Always.

Sarah: Well, Rufus’s point of view actually makes me cry.Because for him the ramifications of Lincoln’s death are so rooted in his oppression.

Kate: Rufus always providing such an important representation of a perspective rarely entertained.

Sarah: And seeing the hope in the soldier’s eyes as they talked about freedom - devastating.

Ann: That scene where the soldiers asked him to write letters for them? I cried.

Kate: And the whole while Rufus knows what is coming for them historically, so then when he might have a chance to save Abraham which would go a long way in saving them all? Gahhhhh. I am undone.

Gissane: It literally doesn’t matter how many times I watch this episode, I will choke up like a baby every time. I don’t think any episode has gotten to me as much as this has, to be honest.

Sarah: Right Kate - Lucy idolizes Lincoln, Wyatt sees saving Lincoln as proof that fate can and should change - which would in turn save his wife. But to Rufus, he still lives with a piece of that. 

And agreed so much, Giss. One of the soldiers - who had fought for the country, for his freedom - hasn’t seen his wife since she was sold. Timeless took this Lincoln episode seriously, and it shows. 

Kate: Rufus is the character that won’t allow us to conveniently forget the implications of history. HE IS SO IMPORTANT.

Gissane: I feel like we’ll say this every week, but I love how unapologetic this show is in regards to painting the ugliest sides of history to remind viewers of just how awful it was and essentially still is at times.

Sarah: Yes and yes.

Ann: It’s scary how much these lessons both still resonate and beg to be learned, you know?

Gissane: I love that even though we can definitely mess with history, the show still sticks to telling us truths that we may have forgotten upon learning or that may have been concealed from the textbooks.

Kate: Both, so so much Annie. 

Let us take a sojourn to another important little piece of the episode. In which the impeccable Jiya offers to help Lucy figure out what happened to her sister.

Sarah: Here. For. Lady. Friendship.

Gissane: You mean in the second episode of a show two women had a conversation that didn’t revolve around a man!?And it was done so effortlessly, you could tell right away that because both these women are incredibly kind, they’d get along perfectly with one another.

Kate: Meanwhile Conner “I have the sympathy of a plastic bag” Mason is all like, ummm sorry bout your sister maybe not really.

Gissane: Connor “No Chill, No Grace” Mason.

Sarah: Someone did not attend Mason Industries sensitivity training. 

Kate: It tickles me that every time the Time Team returns and reports a disturbance in the history force that Denise and Connor are all like, whatttt? Nooooo. How?!?!?! 

Ann: I also live for Denise’s face every time Connor speaks.

Gissane: She is all of us.

Kate: She wants to hit him so hard. Upside the head, really quickly and repeatedly.

Sarah: Can you imagine, though, finding out that not only is your sister just…not in existence…but the man who you thought was your father was, in fact, not your father…and then you are pushed into a small deathtrap and flung back to the assassination of your country’s greatest leader?

Kate: Also she is engaged to a stranger. Lucy has way more composure than pretty much anyone ever.

Gissane: And we can talk about how Wyatt slams Connor about being a little more sensitive. But in all seriousness, if I was Lucy, I’d lose my head in a heartbeat. Actual QUEEN.

Ann: Oh I would have crumbled immediately, if not sooner. I would have traveled back in time to crumble sooner probably.

Kate: This is where Wyatt really begins to take a stand for his team and I love it. First with assuring Lucy that they would fix the timeline and get her sister back. Then with Rufus, building up his self confidence.

Gissane: YES. I love his moments with Rufus too much to be able to form words.

Kate: Wyatt started becoming more than just a super pretty face with a head that rocks a hat like nobody’s business this episode.

Sarah: It also begins one of my favorite pieces of this stupid (wonderful) show - which is Wyatt helping Lucy with her seat belt. (And Wyatt’s perpetual motion sickness.) 

Ann: Sarah no.

Kate: Yes Sarah. YESSSSSSS. Yep. 

Gissane: SO. MANY. EMOTIONS.

Sarah: I don’t know what I did in a past life to be punished? rewarded? thusly. But I curse and praise some deity.

Ann: I swear to god every time I put on a seatbelt now I am pissed as hell that it’s my hands and not Wyatt Logan’s adjusting the strap for safety.

Kate: Wyatt Logan is the sear belt fastener we all deserve.

But also, and finally going back to where we feverishly began. Lucy and RTL. Going to the Ford Theater. Making eyes at each other. DISCUSS.

Gissane: THE WAY HE WALKS IN. Just. I need to go lay down.On a serious note though, the thing that gets to me is how proud he is to be Abraham Lincoln’s son. He doesn’t feel pressured to live in the shadow, he appreciates it. An absolute babe with a heart of gold? I cannot handle. 

Sarah: It is a beautiful thing.

Kate: I will never get over the anguish in his face when he found Lucy outside of the theater.

Sarah: I think all of it is so lovely in setting this scene - it’s a story we (or, well, we as Americans in this chat) know well. But he helps to humanize it. All of the small details - including the mailroom and the dimly lit theatre and trying to avoid the show (or help Ulysses avoid the show).

Kate: I feel like we think of Abraham Lincoln as ours, you know? Leader of a country through one of the most tumultuous times in our history. But he belonged to others, and this show allowed us to see the imitate cost.

Gissane: Oh man. I have chills. 

Sarah: Yes, Kate. 

Gissane: KATE. SARAH. Wow.

Sarah: Even seeing Ford’s Theatre now, it’s hard to place it back to that time. But I think that Timeless really succeeds. All while weaving an interesting story and building this new relationship between our 3 main nuggets.

Gissane: The first time I ever passed by Ford’s Theatre. I couldn’t describe that feeling even if I tried.

Kate: Yes. It gives new breath and dimension to characters or stories we felt we knew, and draws us into the new stories of this team.

Sarah: There’s a Sephora about 300 feet from Ford’s Theatre now, so it really is worlds removed. It also created a high stakes mission. 

There were several moments where I thought, “Oh damn. Lucy is going to save Lincoln.” And Lucy had to make the choice (Though, in that moment, the chaos made it impossible to save him anyway. And here we see Fate in action once again.)

Gissane: But I also love that she clearly tried towards the end, but it was too late. It was just not meant to be I guess. IT HURTS. 

Kate: And considering she was in the box when it happened. How traumatic. Lucy Preston is so damn strong I cannot.

Sarah: SO strong. (Of course RTL sees that and comes to her immediately after…)

Kate: A small aside. Garcia. We don’t know him yet, his motivations, his past. It is jarring to be attached to him  now (because damnit I am) and go back and see him at his most detached.

Sarah: He was outright terrifying. He killed Lincoln point blank, no hesitation. 

Kate: But I swear there was regret in his eyes when he shot Lincoln, so this is when I started wondering just what the hell he was up to. Or maybe I imagined it because he has really pretty eyessssss.

Gissane: But I feel like Flynn is the kind of man who’d look up to Lincoln in one way or another. If there’s one president that could win even the cruelest hearts, it’s Lincoln.

Sarah: True, Giss.Which makes his desperation all that much more apparent.

Well, friends and Todd Teamers. Final thoughts? 

Kate: Other than poor Lucy, she goes from watching the president be assassinated to an engagement party to a man she is just meeting? Time Travel Whiplash, my friends

Gissane: After this episode, I became Timeless trash. There was no turning back.

Sarah: Mostly I think they’ve started to really carve a few important paths for the show: There seem to be no stakes too high for Garcia. Fate appears to be unavoidable. And time is malleable. 

I cannot wait to see what timeline our friends mess up next - and hopefully we get some Amy-related answers? P.S. I would also not cry about seeing Wyatt shirtless again

Kate: Until Atomic City, location Trash Vegas, my friends.

Gissane: Good day, darling souls! 

Kate: (On to dream about Wyatt shirtless, thanks muchly!) 

[enkisstories]

The android cemetery (Ch. 26)

The trio enters the beach, two pairs of feet made of flesh and bone, one of plastic. The snow scrunches below their soles as they walk. It is pure white, untouched, pristine. The wind has given it a wavelike texture, like an ocean that you can walk on. Silence hangs over the beach. The world’s hectic is far away. Out here everything is calm, serene. In short, this is a place that has waited for somebody entirely else than these people! Tina picks up a handful of snow.

“Not much to work with, but serviceable.”

At this point Gavin shook his head in irritation. How different from how he usually heard it had Tina’s voice sounded in the video! But of course it would. Daniel’s acoustic module was different from natural hearing. Connor’s hearing was probably even more different and strange. Definitely strange! Gavin had never given that much thought. He knew he should feel appalled, but what he did instead was hugging Daniel tighter. What would his own voice sound like through his partner’s ears, the man wondered?

*Splash!*

The first snowball lands with precision, albeit less force than a human could have put behind it. And this is the only reason Daniel has dared toss it: Without his weighted gloves the former household android’s hands couldn’t seriously harm anybody even if Daniel wanted to. But his manual dexterity is near super-human and his agility considerate.

Tina: “Whoa, Sardines! Gavin’s not joking when he calls you “killer android”!”

A short hesitation, just long enough for Gavin to “revenge” Tina with a surprise shot. His next throw misses.

Daniel: “Just you wait! I’ll get even!”

The next snowball hits Gavin in the chest. Daniel dances across the beach now, dodging snowballs and returning the favor. A heavy baggage drops, to be buried in the sand under the snow. Until this moment the deviant hadn’t been sure if this little “wargame” would not trigger some sort of killer reflex. Not even when the two humans gang up on him or when Tina goes to her knees for a moment does Daniel experience anything different than a playful mood.

Can he trust these humans? Probably not. They may yet backstab him some day. But one thing Daniel is sure of now: If nobody else, he can at least trust himself again.

“Now that’s a kind thought about the man you had just kissed for the first time!” Gavin snorted.

“What thought?”

“Me backstabbing you!”

“Well, I was kinda right, wasn’t I? Given what happened two weeks later… wait, did I say that out loud? The part about trusting you and Tina?”

Only now Daniel realized that he had commented the scene the whole time. Not the Daniel standing here in the apartment, but his older self from January. His thoughts from the past had turned into a narration that accompanied his memory-video now.

“What’s happening?” the deviant gasped. “That’s not what I wanted to show you! That’s not what I wanted to happen!”

The screen flickered, then the snowball fight faded out, to get replaced by different scene: A black cat wearing a collar of green climbed onto Gavin’s lap. Daniel watched as the cat licked his partner’s face. The image blurred, then new scenes followed the ones before in quick succession. Sounds and images, some heartwarming, others disturbing, but many of them too short to make anything out of them. There was something about… salmon grind on sliced bread?

“Nooooo! Not that!” Daniel cried. “That’s private!”

Connor noticed Gavin lick his lips. The particular way the human was looking told Connor that Gavin’s thoughts were not food-motivated, but connected to another kind of hunger. Not in the least interested in the erotic application of salmon breadspread (or anything erotic in regard to Gavin Reed) the android shouted: “Yes! Let’s keep that private! Very private!”

Daniel tried to disconnect from the TV. Jacking out took what felt like an eternity and even afterwards what had been uploaded already was still running its course.

Suddenly the onlookers saw Daniel looking downwards into Connor’s eyes. One eye, more precisely. The other was dead. The deviant hunter was asking questions… something about a place called Jericho…

Emma screamed and the scene changed again. A dark sky… blood in Daniel’s face… the cityscape tumbling over, no, that was himself, falling. Falling…

“And that particular gem I only ever showed Connor!” Daniel whispered.

“Well, this is how memories work for humans”, a visibly shaken Jason Graff said. “Via associations. We cannot shape them into a family movie and obviously a deviant’s brain works exactly the same.”

“So I cannot lie in this mode?”

Jason nodded. Having worked in the Humanization department for years, his grasp on general android coding was a bit rusty, but this was what he felt right at home at. Professional interest had also allowed the man to realize that he was dealing with one, maybe two, deviants here, but just file the discovery as another fact to work with instead of freaking out.

“Worse”, Jason said, “you cannot keep anything private. An interrogator might say “relax” and the next thing he sees is your last lovenight with Mr.  Reed here.”

“Shit…” Daniel muttered. He covered his eyes while the TV screen was running the last of the uploaded material for all to see:

It has come down to it. Two days left of 2039 and then we will have seen the last of Detroit for a month. It will be good to see something different, even though the reason for us leaving is… less than flattering. But here we are, still understaffed and not even a PM700 is left idle in the charging boxes.

Gavin: “No chance but to take you with me today into a city where a mystery android killer’s on the loose…”

Not much of a mystery, Daniel thinks. The android killer is another android. The thought is sickening. Even if Brandon is killing his kin on the Villareal mob’s behalf, as they suspect, it is a fact that he has joined the syndicate out of his free deviant will, knowing full well what he was getting into. Gavin spits on the pavement, then draws a pistol.

Gavin: “Take this! And if you see a suspicious LED, shoot before asking! The gun probably doesn’t outrange Brandon’s sending range, so take it out before it can even think of initiating contact!”

Daniel accepts the pistol without thinking at first. Then he remembers getting handed a similar one by Lieutenant Anderson three months ago, when they had rescued Connor from the vice-mayor’s home. Daniel hadn’t used the weapon, not even on Connor. Alright, he had tried using it on Connor, but only to wound, of course!

Or had he?

Back in fall the android had been little more than a talking household appliance indeed, still shocked into submission and dropping the occasional sarcastic comment at best. Ever since, Daniel has re-won his former confidence. And it dawns to him that holding a gun again is probably a very bad idea. Because what will stay his hand this time, now that his fears have left him?

Daniel: “Take it back, please! I couldn’t accept a weapon even if I was a human! I’m just an auxiliary, no officer.”

Gavin: “Pfft! At this rate you’re going to make Captain before I’ll be Sergeant! Did you know our beloved inspector bitch sent Hank and me each a certificate for exemplary success in android training? So today we’re going to practice walking the neighborhood without killing people, acting patrol officer Phillips!”

Daniel: “No! I can’t… really not! Damn you, Gavin, couldn’t you at least have given me an empty one?! Take it back! Take it back, take it back, take it back!”

But exactly that Gavin cannot do, even if he had wanted. There is no telling if not some reflex might kick in, causing Daniel to shoot at the human who attempts to disarm him. They all have noticed Daniel wince when Gavin suggested paintball as a teambuilding project the day before. The prospect of holding a weapon, even a toy, is frightening Daniel for good reason. With his weighted gloves the household android can hit as hard as a human. With a firearm, to the contrary, he is vastly superior. And with his temper you never know what might happen.

The way the android is shivering, the most likely outcome is an outdoors lamp in the second floor needing to be replaced within the next two minutes.

Standing… Staring…

Then a quick action and then an android head sinking down on the detective’s shoulder.

Gavin: “Congrats, Sardines, you shot the perennial dandelion. I agree it was loitering there in a provocative fashion.”

Daniel: “I cannot do this… Please don’t make me!”

Gavin: “If I step aside, you’ll fall.”

Daniel: (no reaction) Gavin: (steps aside)

Daniel (falling): “Damn you!”

Sitting… still staring, but decidedly not each other.

Gavin: “I’ve talked to my parents and to Hank, yes, to Hank! And we agreed that you’ve come a long way already. Not the whole distance, though. You want to belong, but that goes two ways. We need to be able to trust you, too. And inevitably there’d have come the day to take it to the test. Today seems as good as any other. Come on, man up!”

Daniel: “Hear, hear! It must be dawn - the apes in the jungle start clamoring!”

Gavin: “I don’t have time for your insults - I dropped my pocket calculator!”

Daniel: “Right… about that…”

Daniel wriggles out of the embrace and rams his fist hard into Gavin’s stomach. Then he sits upright and watches with satisfaction how the human is cringing, still holding the officer’s pistol loosely in the other hand.

Eventually they grab each other’s hands and stand up again.

Gavin: “I’ll tick “correctly judging the appropriate level of violence” off your list of lessons.”

Daniel: “Looks like it. Got a holster to go with the gun?”

Gavin: “Yep. Here! - Oh, and one more thing: when the Andersons ask how it went, you tell them we had an enlightening talk consisting of reasoning, respect and all that other mature crap!”

“So that’s how it happened? But you told us you had an enlightening talk cons…” Connor started to protest back in the present. When he saw Daniel and Gavin grin, he stopped. “Ah. Right. I see. Suckers.”

On the android’s lap an eggshell-colored cat with a blueish grey mask was kneading his legs while wearing a world-removed expression. Nobody had noticed it making itself comfortable there, not even Connor. Sometime during the video the android had realized that he was stroking something and just continued doing so. Loki purred, but stopped whenever he realized what he was doing.

“We are even now, Con’”, Daniel claimed. “Next to lie to the other pays a thirium sherbet.”

And that was it. They had reached a point where they were seriously considering sitting down together and having that sherbet, even throw in a blue smurf ice cream for Hank, Tina and Gavin, none of which had exactly made their life easy in 2038. But everything they had achieved might still get invalidated by a single phone call of Mr. Graff’s. Emma and the androids turned towards the CyberLife employee. Tense, disdainful, even daring him to give them a reason to slap him. Violence was still an option, Jason realized. The deviants certainly were not choir boys and neither were their human allies preaching sunshine and photosynthesis. But even if the worst would come to pass, it would be the result of a conscious decision, not because some lines of code had corrupted and were forcing the android into a killing spree.

That much Jason understood now.

[rosietales-blog1]

Miss Me

(This fic was heavily inspired by Sam Hunt’s “Make You Miss Me”. I make no apologies. I have an endless love for the pain of the relationship between Ravager, Rose Wilson and Red Devil, Eddie Bloomberg.)

The first strains of a familiar song came over the mall speakers, and Rose’s lip curled despite herself. Admittedly she’d enjoyed the tune when it first came out, danced to it, worked out to it… but now she was sick of listening to the bloody thing. It wasn’t bad memories, not at all. That would attribute more emotional health to the youngest, and only surviving, Wilson child than she was generally considered to hold. She headed over to examine a display, eye darting about, unconsciously cataloguing and sizing up the exits and the crowds.

Still he watched her. Always from a distance, afraid to step back into her life. He’d seen the damage his loss had done, seen how quickly she’d fallen back into old routines in his absence. To be perfectly honest, he hurt for her, even as the disappointment settled into the pit of his stomach. As he watched she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his own hand clenching with the wish to echo her movement, noting how careful she was to keep the scarred remains of her missing eye covered. She’d gotten better at hiding it, if he hadn’t known what to look for, he might not even have noticed that she was blind on one side.

She fingered the leather on a pair of boots, testing the strength of the heel, snorting as it snapped under the slightest pressure of her hand before tossing it aside, ignoring the protest of the young man working the shop floor. He reached out to catch hold of her arm, to stop her from leaving. Whirling around before he made contact, Rose drew herself up to her full 5’3, not exactly an impressive height, but she had the kind of glare that exuded threat, made her seem bigger. Stuttering the boy backed up, and she gave him a nasty little smile before heading up the main concourse.

Watching he shook his head, dropping down to the main floor to get lost in the crowds. He stopped at the shop where the distressed young man was being led off the floor to deal with his shock in private. At least she hadn’t hurt the kid… Still, her silent observer couldn’t help but pick up the broken heel and tucking it into the pocket of his hooded black sweatshirt, running a thumb over it again and again as he lowered his face to get lost in the flow of human traffic once more.

Finally, she caught sight of her target. From casual, if somewhat unpleasant, mall-goer she became something else. The deadly killer settled over her like changing a shirt. The people around her seemed to notice the change, pulling away from her slightly. That was good, allowed her to ease the small, palm-sized dagger out of her sleeve and into her hand without it being seen. At the end of the concourse her target turned left, down the maintenance corridor. Tension in every part of her body had her coiled and ready like a cat, the weight of eyes on her being discarded as unimportant as she came nearer to where she lost sight of the person she was here to kill.

He hesitated, tempted to melt into the folks heading towards the food court. Something about the line of her spine let him know she knew he was there… maybe not him, in fact, he could guarantee it wasn’t him she thought was there… but she knew she was being watched. She was too good of a hunter not to know when she was being followed that closely. He held himself back, let some more distance grow between them, even though it meant he risked losing her entirely. If it fell to that, he knew where she lived. He could always find her there.

She caught up to her target fast, just through the exit near the dumpsters. He was waiting, the grin on his face suggesting he wanted her to follow. She was so tired of these idiots. They were all so cocky, every one of them thinking they could take out the one-eyed daughter of Deathstroke. She let them think it. Overconfidence made them sloppy, made her job that much easier.

“Come, Wilson girl, we shall dance and I shall leave your corpse as a message at the door of your father.” Rose’s opponent crouched, arms positioned in preparation for some fancy hand-to-hand style that she thought she recognized from her time with Grayson. Rose allowed a harsh laugh, laced with years of built up bitterness, to escape her lips.

“You are not the first to try, you won’t be the last. One of these days you fuckers will learn that he doesn’t give two fucks about me.” Then she was in motion, so fast the edges of her limbs blurred as she threw herself into the fight. The surprised recipient of her attack had to back up, losing his dramatic posture as he fended off the flashing glimpses of her dagger. High and then low, left and then right, it was like the dagger was everywhere at once, and he was sweating trying to keep up with it, to keep blocking her strikes, to make a few desperate jabs of his own. How did so many of these idiots know who she was, but not what she was? How did they not know she carried the same serum in her veins as the man they wished to taunt?

The ability that most people didn’t know about went off, a glimpse of the next few seconds of battle as her adrenaline spiked. Suddenly she wasn’t just moving fast, she was practically liquid. Flowing away from every blow he aimed, not even one hitting their mark, and she was through his defences, flush against his body with her dagger in between the fifth and sixth ribs, nicking the lung behind them. She pressed her cheek against his, lips so close to his ear he could feel the heat of her breath.

“You go home and tell the rest of the black pajama sleepover club you work for that the Wilson family doesn’t work together, but if they force me to, I will go find dear old daddy and help him eradicate every last one of you. Got it?” Not impressed by his stoic silence, she twisted the blade until he whimpered, then nodded his head. Rose stepped away, blade disappearing into her sleeve after being cleaned on her pants. “Good. Now you should probably go see a doctor before that lung collapses.”

Watching from a rooftop across the street, the silent observer permits a gentle smile to cross his lips. He had been worried that she’d keep falling… but she hadn’t slaughtered her target. That meant part of his Rose was still in there. She was still salvageable. That was what had always drawn him to the Wilson girl. Everyone said she was a monster, but at her heart, she was a good person. Sweet. Caring. The façade she wore was built up over the years to protect herself from her environment, but she’d let him in once. The real question is, would she risk letting him in again?

As she sauntered away from her target, hips swaying in sultry mockery, he took one last shot, a throwing knife went end over end in a perfect arc towards Rose. She didn’t even turn, simply reached back and plucked it out of the air, tucking it into the back pocket of her jeans in the same fluid motion. The observer on the roof held his breath, but the Wilson girl didn’t even grace the assassin with a response, simply continued on her way out of there.

Rose paused just outside the mall, head tilted in curiousity. She sniffed the air, she could almost catch a familiar whiff of sulfur on the air. She shook her head. How maudlin. It wasn’t him, it was probably just a diesel truck backfiring, they had a remarkably similar scent. But it was enough to send that twinge of memory through her, that wistful longing for what might-have-been. It was enough, she detoured from her usual route back to her current flop, deeper into the city towards a safehouse she hadn’t used in ages. Mostly it was storage now. A place of memories she had put away, but not forgotten.

Curious, her observer followed. This was new, and new behaviour might indicate she was aware of his presence. Deep down he knew he should stop being a coward, he should go to her, apologize for his absence, allow them to maybe find that thread of connection that had shattered when he had gone where she couldn’t follow… It had snapped before that though. He wasn’t being honest. She had left first, asked him to go with her, but he thought if he said no she would stay… He never thought she’d leave without him.

Rose input the code and stepped into the musty saferoom. A thick layer of dust covered everything. In all the years since his death, she’d only been back her once, just after his death, to put away everything that reminded her of him. It had been too painful back then, but today… Today she missed him in a way that was more sweet than bitter. Perhaps it was finally time. Maybe now she could face her loss. Everything she had walked away from, everything that had been ripped from inside her when she had learned the truth.

Crossing the room, she opened the window to let some fresh air in. The breeze raised up an eddy of dust as it knocked a handful of polaroids to the floor. Bending to pick them up, she smiled. It was a soft expression, looking almost alien on the rigid planes of her face. She hadn’t worn a look like that for a very long time. Flipping through the pictures Rose sat down on the couch, raising up another cloud of dust, but not really caring. To be honest it was still cleaner than where she was staying now. The photos were faded with age and exposure, but the memories were fresh as the day they were taken.

She was in the gym with Connor, sweat making their clothes cling to their bodies as they lifted heavier and heavier weights, each trying to outdo the other. “Give up Wilson, we both know I’m gonna win this. I’m Kryptonian.” “You’re HALF-Kryptonian, Superbaby. I’m going to crush you.” He’d won… but just barely. Her laugh had echoed through the Tower, but what had echoed in her was the grudging admiration he’d expressed, one hand on her shoulder. “You almost had me, Rose.”

Her phone went off with some ridiculous text tone, a song she didn’t even know. It was from Jaime, some joking observation about cyborgs vs androids that made her laugh so hard she’d almost cried. Like magic, Bart was beside her, snapping a picture. “The infamous Rose Wilson, peeing her pants over some joke? This is going in the scrapbook for posterity!” She’d swiped at him with a mostly fake growl. “I want that picture, Lightfoot…” “You’ll have to catch me first!” She’d chased him all over the Tower. To prolong the game, he’d always stayed just within arms reach.

She paused at the last picture. Could she face him, even this way? Was she really ready to look into those strange white eyes one more time? Could she handle it? Rose was many things, but a coward was not one of them… except in this. He’d always been her weak spot. Her best friend. They’d never slept together, never even kissed though she had teased him by getting dangerously close… but even then, Rose had been casual about sex. Her feelings for Eddie had never been casual, she hadn’t wanted to cheapen them.

They were sitting on the roof after a battle, she’d tugged a pack of cigarettes out of somewhere, leaning forward to light the tip on the heat of his breath. He closed his eyes, and so did she. It was the closest to physical they ever got, and the odd ritual was… comforting after a hard day. “I don’t belong here, Eddie. I’m not a hero. The rest of them… They’ll never trust me. Hell, you LOOK like a demon and they trust you more, Raven’s FATHER is a demon, and she’s welcomed in. But me? I’m the daughter of Deathstroke. If one individual has caused the Titans more pain, I don’t know who it might be. They’re never going to get past that.” His hand locked with hers, squeezing gently. She enjoyed the strange heat of him, the dark red of his skin against the paleness of hers, inherited more from her Cambodian mother than her one-eyed father. “They just need time, Rose. Please, just give them a little longer.” She’d given in that night, but it hadn’t done much good. The problem hadn’t been the Titans, it had been her.

Dashing a tear from her eye she put the pictures back where they had come from, shaking the old memories from her head. Perhaps it was too soon still. Over on the peg were some of her old clothes. The white belly top with the smiley face, that awful pink sports bra… Eddie’s black vest he had found so cool, the faded black hoodie he had worn when he needed to hide his striking colouring and the horns that sprouted from beneath his hair. She picked up the hoodie, fingers toying with the holes burnt along the edges. He’d always been an emotions kinda guy, and when they heated up… so did he. Literally. She’d thought it was adorable.

Rose tugged the sweater on over her head, flipping up the hood and inhaling deeply. It smelled like him. A hint of Axe body spray, sulphur and a strange male heat that she’d always found appealing. Wrapping her arms around herself she closed her eye, imagining it was his arms, one last time. She moved across the room as if in a daydream, wrapped in his sweater, in the smell of him, in the memories of a friendship past. Laying down on the dusty couch, she closed her eye, and allowed herself a moment to weep for everything that they’d lost.

He could hear her, and it broke his heart. He couldn’t stand to be the source of so much pain. Rose was strong, the strongest of them all. No one else could survive what she had and still have her capacity to feel. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach through the window and brush the hair off her forehead, to tease a smile back on her face like he had so many times when they were younger, more innocent… at least he was. He was so tempted, to reach out to her, to tell her he was here… but afraid too. What if she rejected him? She’d always been good at building walls to protect herself from harm, what if he found himself on the other side of that wall this time? The need within him though, that was hard to resist. He reached for his phone…

Her phone rang, shocking her out of her self-indulgent misery. With his scent all around she half expected it to be him… a wake up call and a reminder to eat breakfast like he’d used to… But he was gone. “Ravager.” She answered crisply, no nonsense, no hint of the emotion that was still damp on her face. She made a few non-committal sounds, and then hung up, grimacing. She’d been given her next target, and she hated that it had brought the ugliness of her world into this place of memories. She headed for the exit, paused, and tucked the photos into the pocket of the sweater. A few keepsakes, that was really all she needed. The safehouse was ruined for her, but she didn’t want to forget.  She kicked a canister by the door, toppling it over and spilling the foul odour of gasoline across the floor. Tucking a cigarette in her mouth, she lit it with a match, discarding the burning stick behind her. The heat of the flame at her back was intense, but she didn’t look back. Her past was gone, and she was just going to have to live with that knowledge. No use being too attached to it, no use mourning what would never be. Best to make a clean break… or at least as clean a break as she could manage right now. Everyone else had been so easy to leave… everyone but the boy who had died.

The fire had shocked him, he hadn’t expected that. Still, he’d caught sight of something he wanted, so he teleported into the flaming safehouse, snagging the vest of the hook before teleporting out again. It was a little charred at the edges, but to be fair that could have been from him as much as the fire Rose had started. He tugged the vest on over his white tank top, feeling a bit more like him. Even better, it smelled slightly of her beneath the smoke and sulphur. He smiled. This was something he could take with him, but he still had things to do before he could go to Rose. He just hoped she’d understand.

When Rose was preparing for a hit, she’d taken to writing letters to Eddie in her head just after he died. It helped her work through things, get everything sorted. It made it feel like he was still there. She hadn’t done it in ages, but for some reason tonight, it seemed natural to pick the habit back up. She was dressing up for this one, undercover work was never her strong suit. Painting her nails with a decided lack of skill, she laughed. They were the same colour as her dead friend’s skin had been.

Dear Eddie, You’d never believe what I’m letting them talk me into. Some fancy dress party with cocktails and high society. I haven’t been to one of these since I was training with Grayson. I wish you were here to tease me about tripping on high heels. I feel ridiculous. Who ever heard of a one-eyed girl in a curve-hugging gown anyway? I’m going to be spotted immediately, and then it’s going to be a bloodbath. I wish you were going with me, to bail me out when things get too hairy. You always managed to keep me from being the mass murdering psychopath my father wanted me to be. I felt like you were watching over me earlier today. Fuck, I miss you so much, you big red idiot. Why did you have to die?

She squeezed her hand shut, imagining him slipping his big, hot fingers between hers. There had always been comfort in the pain of his heat. A familiarity. She was the only one who’d been willing to risk getting burned, just to make him feel like a real person. Just like he’d been when he died. No powers. No horns. No crazy demon eyes. Just a boy, back in his own body, throwing away his life to save the world. All because she hadn’t been there to watch his back. She’d do anything to take that back. To stay when he wouldn’t join her.

That stupid song that always reminded her of Eddie came on the radio, and she lashed out, smashing it with a fist, forcing her to pick electronic bits out of the fancy lace in her gloves. She was Rose Wilson-Worth, and she was not going to let the past mess up her duty. She neatly compartmentalized all her emotions, and then headed out into the night.

Someone needed killing.