#I need RK friends again someone come to me please

[levi-of-lesbos]

Hi so this is my first au thing in glee and I have no idea if this has been done before if it has pls reply to this post with it! Id really wanna see it

Okay so

Spoilers for Song of Achilles if you haven't read it!!

Brittana song of achilles au

The hair colours coincide - Brittany is Achilles and Santana is Patroclus

The personalities fit - brittany is free spirited, kind, popular, the vibe (esp at the start of the book) fits with each other, santana is wary of a lot of things, kind of ooc but I've seen a lot of fics portraying santana as quiet but snarky and tbh it kinda fits in canon too, esp when you compare them - Patroclus is quiet but he is loyal as hell and is the only one who dares to talk back to Achilles, he will fight you if needed

The story kinda goes the same, they meet as kids and bond and everything but just to outline

Santana arrives at the palace (?) she's kind of a loner at first, but she doesn't really wanna bother interacting with the other kids (this part is actually pretty accurate to canon imo cause when santana lives in new york she doesn't actually make a lot of friends she just interacts with the same few people, this could be taken to be cause she's a side character but it's a fun look into her personality), brittany on the other hand is very friendly, the new girl catches her eye and she does all sorts of tricks to catch her eye, shes also a very bold character I think, so she def would be the one to make the first move plus be bold enough to ask her father for the new, quiet, murderer kid to be her lifelong closest companion

For the sake of this au we are going to villainise their parents (sorry), and so brittany still gets sent away to chiron and subsequently the place where she has to disguise herself to avoid the war but santana still goes to find her every time

I also think that it would be fun for brittany to say with a grin to santana "what has hector ever done to me?"

Anyway so the war comes, there's the whole thing about achilles losing his innocence and part of what makes us root for him so much in the first place and we know that brittany is portrayed very much as a cinnamon roll in fanon (much like Achilles too tbf) and I think dark brittany would be interesting to see once her view of the world is gone

In this au puck is briseis cause I'm a sucker for puck-santana friendships in fics (I do not support or condone anything m*rk s*lling did irl I just like the character in fanon), the scene where briseis and achilles yell at each other because they both loved patroclus in different ways but they loved him all the same would be cool with Puck and Brittany, the anger between them and the grief would be so good

So anyway santana ofc dies in this, just imagine santana being scared to fight, but she knows that to protect brittany she has to go out and put herself in danger for her because she's the love of her life and she doesn't want her to die, but she ends up getting kind of ahead of herself and gets killed by hector (quick reminder that achilles slept beside patroclus' dead body for days before burning it so just picture that but brittana), brittany hearing the news that a great soldier has fallen and thinking "santana will come back and tell me about it", brittany discovering santanas the one that died and being unable to function afterwards, her innocent and sometimes naive view of the world just falling apart because santana is dead and never coming back, brittany killing hector to effectively kill herself so that she gets reunited with santana, only to arrive in the afterlife unable to find her

Santana on the other hand has to watch brittany grieve for her, unable to do anything to lessen her pain, only to get left behind by the ignorant survivors and has to wait for god knows how many years before she can finally see the love of her life again

So anyway I love angst as you can tell, if someone's done this before pls send links, this is just my take on it, please feel free to add on cause I have no idea where the rest of the glee kids would be in this au, I might or might not add on more stuff afterwards if I have more brainrot so yes

[riverswillow]

DO PEOPLE UNDERSTAND? THAT WE JUST LIKE. GET MARRIED KENSHIN AND KAORU NOW? -LIKE DO YOU UNDRSTAND- That this is a fucking series that is billed as a romance, this is known as being on of the great romances in anime, and yet had like two or three romantic things happen? Naruto has shit tons more romantic shit and no one counts it as a romance. People count RK but all we got was the goodbye hug, the “I want to stay with you forever” sunset watching (which come on Watsuki, should have been a kiss, except you suck at drawing kisses. That’s one of only like,2, changes I’m okay Seishouhen did. .... Like two.) The “I’m home” hand grab. Obviously Kenshin’s total and complete meltdown at Kaoru dying (except that was actually about him losing his identity more than it was about her actual ’death’)/ Him falling into her arms at the end cus of the Enishi fight cus you know, bleeding profusely and shit. I mean that’s a bit but there’s not even a fucking kiss in there. AND NOW WE GET CASUAL CHEEK TOUCHING AND MARRIED LIIIFFEEE. And I was too busy worrying the series would suck cus Kenshin has shi emotional shit figureed out so it’d be uninteresting cus either that wouldn’t be compelling or he’d go back on his emotional progress which also would suck that I forgot to worry about if Kaoru and Kenji would be left at home. BUT NOPEEEEEE. NOPE KAORU IS THE DRIVE FOR THEM TO GO OUT THERE. (Which is hilarious as if the arc was drawn 20 years ago like it was supposed to be she would have been actually dead at that point but, alas.) And this means we can revolve the emotional progress around her and her dad and also what that’ll mean to Kenshin. Which means the focus will be their relationship. I’m happy I didn’t realize I should be worried about him leaving them behind. WHICH ALSO SUCK IT SEISHOUHEN, YET ANOTHER PIECE OF PROOF YOU’RE AN OUT OF CHARACTER PIECE OF SHIT. Help I need friends who care I’ve been out of the fandom for almost 10 years or something people come to me people who care please come to me I’ve cared for so long this is why I’m a Japanese history major for fucks sake. AND THE ART WAS SO GOOOOOOOOOOD. AND THIS’LL MEAN EVENTUALLY WE’LL GET JINCHUU ANIMATED AND IT (probably). And I’m still holding out hope for a live action Jinchuu arc too cus omg those movies. I just wanna tell 13 year old me it’ll all be okay. All I wanted from life at that point, the two things I wanted the most, was true love and Jinchuu animated (yes I did realize my priorities were stupid). And like yeah still need a healthy relationship, and okay no Jinchuu yet, BUT BETTER THAN JINCHUU ANIMATED, NEW HOKKAIDO ARC WITH SO MUCH K/K AND AMAZING LIVE ACTION MOVIES AND AND AND

[redwinterroses]

RIIIIIIIIIGHT SO.

I just finished chapter 13 of Dog At The Door and holy hot cross buns batman if you're not reading this fic you NEED to. It's literally one of the best written fics I have ever read in my life and I've been reading fanfiction for over 15 years, lol.

I went back and reread the entire fic to lead up to chapter 13 and I decided to treat it like I used to treat things I had to read in college so I took notes as I went and please I am warning you this post is incredibly long. Almost 3k words. PLEASE do not hit that "read more" button unless you're good with having to scroll past it all and also spoilers ahead. Proceed with caution.

~*~

Rereading Dog at the Door reactions (spoilers, obviously):

· Doc finding Ren’s body to be cold and for a second thinking he’s actually dead—my heart

· “That’s Ren, alive and kicking.” Oh…no, Doc. No it’s not.

· The first “Where is my hand?” hits different the second time through

· Gah the ice and winter imagery ALL over the place—my English degree brain wants to watch and see if that shifts to warmth at any point as we go? Thoughts for future Red to think.

· It’s fascinating to me to see Doc constantly thrust into the prey role. This is a guy who is very much not that person normally, but something about the Red King is beyond anything he’s really encountered before—or at least not since Dinnerbone—and it pushes him into an entirely new role that he clearly chafes in

· “I should get back to work on your new arm soon,” he says, making a mental note to add claws to the fingertips. Honestly Doc why tho. XD

· “It feels like something Ren would want him to do.” </3

· Side note: I just watched Doc’s freaking hour long shulker farm vid, and that’s making it a lot easier to hear his voice in this fic

· I’m more curious about the hand.” New Ren laughs a bit at his own words, as though there’s something funny about that phrasing. I MISSED THIS LINE THE FIRST TIME THROUGH

· The bead curtain being cursed hippie treasure XD

· The fact that Doc just so quickly accepts that Ren is gone—maybe not permanently, but at least for now—is kind of heartbreaking. Because you know he hasn’t really accepted it, he’s just… deciding not to feel anything about it. Just nod and move on and pretend you don’t need to stop and cope with the possible/probable death of your best friend and the fact that Someone Else is wearing his skin. That’s so sad.

· “high-fiving the finished hand with his own metal hand.” Aww… Doccy.

· “He shoos away the images of New Ren holding him up by the throat supervillain-style and turns around.” Hmmmmmmm want that fanart. Scary New Ren/RK is good stuff. (post-chapter-13 Red popping in with a WHAT THE HECK)

· “that makes him seem like a ghost in Ren’s body.” YA KNOW. LIKE HE IS.

· Okay side note time: why is the Red King here? Ya know? Like – in 3rdLife the idea of a possessing spirit of bloodlust makes some sense. But why stick around? Was RK trying to escape the 3L server, or was this not deliberate? At what point did he take over from Ren—at Black Heart Altar? In which case, was the whole idea Ren’s to begin with, or was he influenced? Maybe it happened the first time Ren died? The Red King took over then—or at least started to? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, thoughts…

· Wait more theories—what if RK is connected to the ????? entity that spoke to Martyn when he died? In which case, cMartyn said he was considering making that canonically a Watcher (he ended up not doing it, but he also didn’t do anything that contradicted it either). I’m not saying RK is a Watcher… but boy he sure does stare a lot, don’t he.

· Holding the screwdriver like a dagger—mmmm

· Okay funny thought: all this frost, RK’s gonna need to be real careful about rust lol. And straining the metal, tbh, all that freezing and thawing is going to have an effect but the rust idea is making me laugh

· Until I realized it would look like blood and it’s not funny anymore

· “Renbob is in the beanbag stuffed next to the driver’s seat” right so is this where Renbob sleeps because I have been wondering—

· “something about having two people look like Ren when neither of them are makes Doc stop to take a shaky breath” *sob*

· “Renbob clears his throat, looking up at Doc with a smile that is so obviously fake that it hurts.” Ugh the LOT of you stop repressing everything you’ll give yourselves a collective hernia

· “he’ll probably have to break the news to the other hermits, too, Iskall and False and all the others.” All these painful lines I somehow missed the first time through

· Awww warm air comes in when Renbob opens the door—with the flowers and everything, Renbob is so easily associated with spring, I love this contrast.

· Aaand there it is, yup, RK is shocked to see his face on Renbob, and Renbob is shocked to see that this is so clearly Not Ren.

· They both recover pretty quickly, though. Survivors, both of them.

· RK calls Renbob their “ferryman” and I’m not sure if I was supposed to get “crossing the river Styx” vibes from that But I Did. (does RK think he’s dead? That they’re all dead?) (post-chapter-13 Red here with a little bit of wordless screaming.) (and also a bit of pride that I picked up on this.)

· “And what a help you’ve been! Fixing me up, replacing my hand.” Hi yes, 911? there’s a dagger stabbed into my feels.

· “he’d rather remember rage than see another person’s heart break.” Dang that’s such a raw line. Oof.

· ”the Red King says, his voice hoarse with tears.” Really interesting that this blood deity can feel such emotions—like, anger or even fear, I can get. But to see this entity upset to the point of tears is fascinating.

· “There is a crown on Doc’s workbench.” Right, yeah so like—is RK unwillingly manifesting these artifacts? Because that’s wild, man. …how long before he manifests an “enchanter”?

· “I’ve never seen it [the crown] clean before.” Okay that definitely implies that maybe RK didn’t come around until after Black Heart Altar?

· “The Red King has the crown in his lap when Doc turns back around, claws gently tracing over the engravings, leaving frost patterns behind.” I really wish I had art skills because there’s this image in my head of a drawing of the crown held in RK’s hands, with his face (one eye glowing, one in shadow) reflected in the surface, and frost patterns following behind a claw that’s daintily tracing the surface. But I can’t draw so—

· RK asks for a change of clothes. What was he wearing when they rescued him, I wonder? The Red King outfit with the fur capelet? Or Ren’s Stargazer outfit? Which begs the question: where does Stargazer fit into all this? Was Ren’s return to Hermitcraft RK free, but when he came so close to dying to Sith, RK found that as a gateway to take over? (Post-13 Red here, Looking Intently at this note.)

· Awww… the image of a one-legged RK clutching new clothes to his chest and hopping down to change in the bathroom… That’s weirdly endearing. He’s less menacing when he stands up somehow. Less lurking, maybe.

· Oooohhhhh he messed up his back sleeping on the floor. Gotcha.

· Doc keeps telling himself (and RK) that saving him and working on these parts is “the right thing to do” and while he’s not WRONG I just want to see him realize that it’s not only the right thing, it’s realistically the only thing, because if he didn’t, then he’d have to deal with the fact that he’s lost his best friend and we can’t have that.

· “I don’t need to eat” ummmmmm no hold on this definitely implies that RK is possessing a dead body and I’m not okay with that where is Ren

· LOLOL “I can’t stand to see [you do] this” is such a raw line to be about watching Doc eat cereal with his hands

· “The voice doesn’t belong to who he thinks it does.” Ugh, Doc. This isn’t the first time he’s lost a close friend to Something Else, something otherworldly.

· “All of them are waiting for him, waiting for him to do something more, something better—” aaand there it is. Doc’s characterization in this fic in a single sentence.

· Doc waking up and thinking he’s seeing Ren and RK’s hesitation and the gentle “I’m not Ren”—OH MY HEART

· RK’s coffee = Renbob’s friendship bracelets

· Randomly can I just say that I love how RK’s dialog is all in italics? It concerned me at first because I thought it was going to keep pulling me out of the narrative, but instead it really just feels right. Also I’m looking forward to the moment when he says something and it’s not in italics because it’s REN and oh my lands please give this to me I beg you (post-13 Red here with a bit more mindless screaming)

· “watch your tongue with me, Atlas, because I’m the one person you can pass the sky to.” Okay okay okay—English studies brain coming out. This suggests that there is a burden RK and Doc can share: something Doc is currently struggling against that only RK can help him with. In the moment, I don’t know if this is really fair of RK to say—after all, Doc does technically have Renbob too, if we’re just talking about Doc’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. In fact, if that’s the context, then Renbob is a much better fellow-Atlas because he and Doc have known each other much longer and they’re both dealing with the loss of Ren. BUT, knowing about the upcoming conversation where Doc and RK both realize that they’ve lost someone (Ren for Doc, Martyn for RK) this line suddenly has a lot more weight. Again, I don’t think that in that moment RK quite has the right to pull this zinger. But in later context, it turns out to be true after all. They are the only two with this particular shared pain.

· Doc upset with himself because he can’t get over his “stupid hang-ups” DOC MY LAD. “I’ve lost my best friend, you’re in his body, and I don’t know how to process any of these emotions” is not a “stupid hang-up” PLEASE stop blaming yourself for everything!?

· “I’m so tired” in the middle of his nightmare—oh my gosh. That hurts so much for some reason.

· I also very much wish I had the ability to draw the image of Doc with tears on his face, staring dead-eyed down at his workbench while RK looms over from behind, pinning his wrists to the table with one metal arm and one frost-bitten one, a look of exasperation and concern on his face. Why can’t I draw the things

· “How do you know Etho” “I watched him die.” OW ow ow ow ow

· Doc takes this as calmly as only someone used to living in a world where death has low consequences can. Oh. Oh—that means… huh. Doc isn’t used to losing people permanently on any basis, especially not death. So no wonder he doesn’t know how to process Ren being gone (I can’t bear to write “dead” there). He literally doesn’t have context for it… and what context he DOES have is like—I mean, Etho and Bdubs came back. Ouch.

· “Twenty-five.” The Red King makes the number sound like a threat. Yet another banger line I missed the first time through. Imagine waking up and thinking you’re in 3rd Life again but instead of 14 players there’s almost twice that many and you think you don’t know any of them.

· I still don’t quite understand the “when was etho added/should have known there was something different” bit or why RK is so emotional about it… but I have trust that it’ll make sense at some point. (post-13 Red: ...is this something about the fact that he thinks he's dead...so he thinks Etho has died before? Like, that 3rd Life wasn't Etho's first hardcore? ...I feel like I'm almost grasping this but I'm missing an element somewhere.)

· And now a sword. RK. My man. You need to stop manifesting things—especially when they scare the ever-living daylights out of you.

· I absolutely adore the in-universe lore that Fire Aspect is a PvP enchantment because it threatens dropped loot, and yeah I very well might steal that. (Along with something I read at one point who-even-knows-where that Knockback is a coward’s enchantment, because I love that too.)

· He really shouldn’t. / Doc picks up the sword by the scabbard and hands it to him, hilt extended. Doc you already trust this guy so much and you don’t even know it—but is it just because you still subconsciously trust the face he wears? Or is it something deeper?

· Ugh, the “I was supposed to kill someone for him” conversation/scene is SO FREAKING GOOD

· “I don’t want it. Not like the crown.” Why, though? Why doesn’t he want it? Because it’s more to do with death than kingship? OH. Oh, I hadn’t even considered that. I’ve been thinking of RK as this like, god of blood and vengeance but maybe he’s not. Maybe he hates the bloodshed (“the blood! It’s drippin’ in me eyes… I’ve been blinded by the violence…”) just as much—more?—than Ren did/would have. Huh. That’s a new facet.

· Oh my heart the “have you ever lost someone and it was your fault” line. Dagger to the feels. Dagger to the feels.

· This like… “I’m on a roll and even though I know I should stop I really don’t want to” mode? Man. That’s relatable. Especially when you’re working to avoid dealing with something else.

· “Not making it for you—it’s for Ren” oh ouch ouch ouch the denial suddenly breaks through it’s okay, Doc I’m with you on this

· The second time reading through it’s far clearer that Doc has a blind panic attack here—when he starts rambling that Ren’s coming back, he’ll be there for season eight and RK goes to…do whatever he was going to do and Doc just blanks out. The manic productivity should have been a warning sign, the poor guy is crumbling.

· “Doctor” and “he’s not sure he deserves that title right now” UGH Doc needs a hug someone please hug him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. Someone please hug me and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

· “his hand on his throat” over the scar from the Red Winter axe? </3

· “I did do that. I have done that.” RK admitting to it actually having been him in Doc’s nightmares?

· Okay sorry the conversation about beating Dinnerbone will never not be funny to me

· RK mentions that people used to call him m’lord or Ren, and then mere minutes later you have “Ren. You couldn’t save him because of me, could you?” He knows exactly what’s going on here. Not maliciously, but he’s no dense-head, he’s put the pieces together. (post-13 Red: MOST of the pieces. Most of them.)

· Watching Doc slowly stop fighting his nightmares—like, the first time, he fights. The second time, he accepts it but still struggles. And this time… this time he gives up before it even starts. That hurts, man.

· Good grief the whole “get my head chopped off” / “you really don’t want that” bit. O.O I’m not sure what emotion I’m feeling but I’m Feeling An Emotion.

· “Snow’s new. Dream’s not.” </3

· …Doc’s not gonna be a fan of snowier-snow after this trip…

· "Dr. M77" Actually he’s Doc Monster, RK, but we’ll let it go. XD

· OKAY BUT THIS EXCHANGE? The “how are you feeling” / “better” / “you’re a bad liar” / “I said better not great” that’s such a good exchange and I don’t know why every other time I’ve ever seen it used they stop at the lying accusation? Doc with the snappy comebacks, man.

· Aaah, Doc and RK, two establishment bros bonding over a shared disdain for hippies.

· The bit about the fella who wore an iron helmet and called it a powdered wig—fear is in my heart. *shoves Scar into an obsidian box and blocks it closed*

· “Who was Ren to you?” </3

· Doc is more than willing to spread the flames, to sear his loss into RK’s bones. / The king’s face stops him. Ren’s face stops him. Holy CRAP is that a good set of lines. So much going on there, and ALL of it good.

· Again. I wish I could draw. I would draw RK sitting on the edge of the bed, gently hugging a collapsed-in-on-himself Doc. </3

· “And I hate the devil that forced us apart, that mixed my blood with his.” *adds another layer to Scar’s obsidian fort*

· OKAY STARTING CHAPTER THIRTEEN I made the mistake of logging into Tumblr earlier and saw people screaming so I’m sure I’m not ready for this but here we go

· Oh no RK has been hippie-ified

· “You started a paramilitary organization because you have hay fever?” *dies laughing*

· Ugh I need to go back and watch s6 I’ve only seen the tail end of Mumbo’s side of things and there’s so much I don’t know.

· HAHAHAHAH I do know the trident bit though—

· Wait he said Scar

· PANIC

· “Kingslayer. bloodthirsty. Time King. The coward. And the mastermind behind it all, the loyal soldier to the very end, the whole damn reason either of us are in this mess.”

· HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP HOLY—

· “Is this the afterlife I deserve? After everything, this is the hell I’m going to endure?” I AM SCREAMING

· Doc pinned to the wall with ice, struggling to breathe—I CAN’T WHAT IS HAPPENING

· ((You know I’d get through this a lot faster if I stopped pausing to write reactions—))

· “A break in the ice. A whisper of spring.” Symbolism. Symbolism.

· “Ren was dead when I found him again,” NO I REFUSE TO READ THIS

· “don’t use the hand I built you to hurt yourself” DOC. SIR. MY HEART.

· RK don't run, RK get back here—what are you—

·

·

· I

· JUST

· ACTUALLY

· SCREAMED

· AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

· *several long moments of just breathing*

·

·

·

· *rereads*

· Holy crap on a garbage cracker with an extra serving of what-the-heck sauce

· REN

· REN

· Okay lol okay hahaha calming down

· I literally threw myself back in my chair away from the computer reading that last paragraph. I don't usually... physically react to things I read. LOL. Heh. I’m. Ah. I’m not emotionally invested in this or anything.

· Holy crap.

· Okay. Okay. Okay.

· Um.

· Great chapter, guys. Awesome stuff. Really good. I’m absolutely okay right now and it’s all totally fine.

· …please enjoy your break and get lots of rest and I very much look forward to the return of this fic you have no idea.

· I need to go breathe for a little bit.

EDIT: no, you know what--I'm not going to be a nice polite fangirl over here and quietly hope y'all see this I'm straight up tagging you, @fluffy-papaya and @betweenlands. THANK YOU but also how dare.

[heckpup]

I uh, made a little something to cope with Ranboo’s acting yesterday. (Which was a m a z i n g, everyone go subscribe to Ranboo rn)

Anyway, Ranboo is now my comfort character, you can pry him from my cold, dead hands.

Also I wrote this at like 2 am, then rewrote it as I worked it into my phone, and am now about to post it before I chicken out.

(How do you make long stories lock off so you don’t have to read the whole thing unless you click on mobile? I tried, but I don’t know it I used the right thing. Help.)

CW!: dehumanization, mentions of starving, isolation

Edit: I had to go back and reformat all of the story, cause apparently strike through a, italics, and bolds don’t carry over from notes.

Second Edit! I learned how to do the “Keep Reading” thing so that should make my unending scroll through my own stories much easier.

Ranboo is used to the cold.

Being part Ender makes him invulnerable to the freezing cold of the void that makes up the End. It’s always cold there, except for when you get close to the dragon. That’s why so many (of his kind) Endermen congregate on the dragon’s island.

They may be used to the cold, but that doesn’t mean it’s nice, or they like it.

Ranboo only knows this from feelings. Memories that aren’t tethered to anything, just vague thoughts floating around in his own cold void.

— — —

Memories of warmth, true warmth, begin in the Overworld.

There’s the sun, the moon, and stars (so many stars!) that make up the Overworld’s void.

They call it sky.

Sometimes, late at night, when everyone in L’Manburg is asleep, Ranboo likes to go out to his roof and look at the stars. They twinkle and shine, little lights in the overwhelming darkness. Some make pictures and stories, Phil tells him. Others just twinkle and shine, unconnected to any others, alone.

They’re like Ranboo’s memories, in a way. Lights in his dark void, sometimes they connect to each other, telling stories.

It’s hard to find the stories, sometimes.

— — —

Ranboo built himself a bunker. It’s a small, dark room, quiet (until he plays that disk) and as he sits, he can see purple particles from the crying obsidian. They remind him of something, but he just can’t remember.

(He does.)

(He doesn’t want to.)

(The stars spread the memories out.)

(Unfindable, untraceable, unable to be connected to each other anymore.)

(But they’re still there.)

(A friend.)

(Endermen surrounding him.)

(Purple particles everywhere he looked)

(Leaving him to survive)

(Sadness)

(Why did they leave me?)

(Why did they go?)

(Where am I?)

(Why am I here?)

— — —

He kept coming back, until it was too late.

It’s far enough away from the ruins (of his HOME) that he can’t see it, even if he tries. He’d be safe here, he’d always be safe here. He’d saved his pets, the three cats and the dog were here, with him.

So many animals had been left.

He hoped T̷̢̬͖̳̮̩̯̼̪͔̠̳̘̭̒̀̅̈́̽͒͐̒̂͂̔̎͠͝͝ͅụ̸̢̧̩̳̏̂̂̾̄̂͂b̷̨͙̮̰͇͖͎͔̳̮̆͐̆̈̐́́̂͊̈́̕b̸̞̭̫̘͕̏̎ò̸̡̖̍̑̔͆̽͒͘ found Ş̶̡̛͚͎̲̜̻͕̹͉̤͂̓̐́̓͘̕͘͝q̴͙͆u̴̝̥̻͉̯̯͑̿̏̇̾̏̋̐̒̓͜͝e̶̩̤̞͖̹̪͚͛̈̓̓͗̓̕̚a̷̡̭̱̫̭͈͚̙̗̜̬̅ḵ̵̨̧̭̥̬̓̌̏̇́̓̾̏͋ṡ̸͔̱͙̌̀̑͒̐̎̊̑̽͌͝.

Who?

That was someone important.

Why couldn’t he remember?

His memory book (not his anymore) lay on the floor next to him, forgotten.

He didn’t want to go back, to look at the crater. He could just stay here.

Right?

Endermen didn’t need food, why should he?

— — —

He’s alone.

He’s all alone.

Ranboo is certain that if he wasn’t lucky enough to have brought a measly stack of potatoes with him (why did he bring them with him?) the pain would have been unbearable. He could survive, he found, but it hurt.

It hurt so bad.

The animals are gone.

Ranboo (was that his name?) had let them go long ago. Let them run away, sent them off to get food, find new homes, new people. (Why didn’t he do that?) He hoped they found people. (Why wouldn’t they? They were pets, still wanted by people.)

He couldn’t remember their names.

It was dark, and he was alone. (Again.)

— — —

He doesn’t speak. He thinks he’s forgotten the common language, how it feels to talk to people. He still makes noises, to pass that time. One vocalization, each day, just to pass time. (How many days has it been?)

A disk lays next to him, scattered and broken from overuse. He’s hungry, but at the same time, he’s not. Why?

It’s so cold.

Why is it so cold?

He doesn’t like the cold.

But he can’t remember anything else.

Ranboo is used to the cold.

— — —

He won’t die. (Why can’t he just die?)

Endermen don’t die. (Unless they are killed.)

He’s just an Enderman. Right?

A creature, not powerful enough.

Weak.

A thing.

Easily killable.

He hasn’t even looked at himself for so long, he doesn’t remember what he looks like.

He lets out a quiet gr-rk! and looks around the dark room again.

The rock looks grab-able.

He wants to grab it. How long has it been since he held something, anything?

(He ignores both the broken disk and the notebooks.)

(He doesn’t need not blocks)

(He’s forgotten his inventory. He hasn’t used it in so long, he didn’t need it.)

(Why would he need it? He’s not a Player.)

(He’s just an Enderman, after all.)

He (It?) blinks, and suddenly, there’s water flowing. It hurts like hell and the water needs to go away. The water needs to go away, it hurts, it hurts, IT HURTS!

Gr-rk!

It’s above? It doesn’t know where It is, but there’s light, and while it’s too bright for It, It blankly remembers that it could be brighter.

(Why does It remember that?)

Where is this?

Where is the box?

The obsidian is still limply held in It’s hands.

It begins to walk around, slowly.

It sees something, in the distance. A wall of fence posts, small. It walks over, and looks out at what It sees.

Absolute destruction, blood and carnage, and it can (still?) see a big black creature (a lone Wither, left alive) at the bottom. Vines are beginning to grow over the stone, and It lets out a quiet, confused gr-rk? at the sight.

A small star twinkles in It’s void, unconnected, but there.

It looks up for a moment and is shocked to find clouds covering a dark sky.

(Where are the stars?)

It feels like something is wrong, something should be there, not clouds.

It teleports away, letting out vwoop-inv noises as It finds Itself in snow. It’s cold, but the snow isn’t the wet kind, thank goodness.

(Where are It’s boots? It had boots to protect It from the snow, once.)

Gr-rk?

It hears a twig snap somewhere behind It, and It turns to look at someone suddenly. A person? A Player!

They look It in the eyes.

It should attack!

No.

What?

Don’t attack.

Why not? They looked at It, It should attack them!

No. Not P̴̧͖̗̪̹͚̳̰̭̗̞̙̺͛͗͋́͂̈͊́͂̃͌͜͠͝͠ͅḧ̵̡̭̖̪͙̀̇̈́͆̉i̴̛̭̽̈̎̄̾̔̇̒̀͝l̸̡̛̛͔̪͖̦̜̮̐̂̄̋̈̋͘͝͠͝͠z̸̨̛̲̤͔̖̓̓̔͊͑̾̿͘͝͝ą̵̨̞̝̰̖̖́̽̿̓̐̀̋͐̊̌̆̈́.

Who?

“Ranboo?”

It hears the voice, and that’s enough to shock it out of It’s stupor. It won’t attack. It won’t. They’re looking at It in the eyes, and It really wants to attack, to scream, to throw the block at them, but It won’t. Not if the voice asks.

“Ranboo?” They ask again. It doesn’t understand what they are asking. What is a Ranboo? It is only an Enderman.

So, in response, It only lets out a quiet gr-rk? and a tilt of the head.

Clang!

Something falls off It’s head. What is that? It looks like a hat made of metal. It has shinies in it.

It ignores the metal hat and instead stares at the Player again. The Player only looks at It quietly, with water in their eyes. How does that not hurt, water in your eyes?

(It always did, but you could ignore it.)

The Player is holding a block! It looks like the trees around It, but already take . Can It have the block? It’s ears swivel up in excitement, looking down at the dark block in the Player’s hand. It wants the wood. Please?

The Player looks down and puts the block away. It frowns, but keeps Its eyes on the Player. It’s ears go down.

The Player’s arms move a bit, and before It can realize, It has dropped Its own block in favor of putting Its arms around the Player. (Why did It do that?)

(It’s been so long since It had a hug.)

The Player is warm. It practically melts into the warmth, purring a little. The warmth is so nice.

They both stand like this for a while, before It begins to get pulled by the Player. The warmth goes with the Player, so It will follow.

The Player leads It to a big house. (Anything is bigger than the box.) and then they lead It inside. There’s another Enderman inside, and It’s ears go up.

Gr-rk? (Friend?)

Gr-rk. (Hello, child.)

Gr-r-rk? (Where is this place?)

Vwoop. (A home. Philza has brought you back.)

Gr-rk? (Philza?)

“Ranboo?” The Player- Philza, It knows now- begins tentatively. “Where have you been? It’s been a year!”

Is Philza addressing It? Philza must be, since Philza has called It Ranboo since they met.

Is Ranboo It’s name? It knew Philza before?

Ranboo did, it realizes. Ranboo knows Philza! Ranboo remembered something!

With a happy vwoop, Ranboo teleports back over to Philza for more warmth.

“You ok, mate?” Philza asks Ranboo. A shake of the head into a warm shoulder tell Philza all he needs.

“You always did have memory problems, eh? That’s ok. We can work with that. You won’t have to forget again, alright?”

Ranboo is used to the cold.

But warmth, Ranboo decides, is much better.

[wolveria]

Unable to perceive the shape of you - Ch. 1

Pairing: Connor x f!Reader x Nines

Summary: After breaking the RK twins out of the MarineLife facility, you were determined to return them to the ocean before getting caught by your employer.

What you hadn't counted on were the brothers deciding you belonged to them.

Prompt: Mermay!

Word Count: 2.3k

AO3

The lab was empty and the only noise that filled the space was the gentle sound of lapping water. After a quick glance to make sure the techs had left for the day, you sat at the edge of the tank and pulled off your shoes and socks, dipping your toes into the chilly water. A sigh escaped you, the cold a balm against your aching feet, and the pain in your legs receded to a manageable level.

As if on cue, two fins broke the surface of the water, one stout and grey while the other was dark, elegant, but curled over as if it had lost its rigidness. They headed in your direction, causing ripples from the speed of their passing. Just as the disturbances reached you, they broke the surface, revealing twin faces with very different expressions.

The one with the grey dorsal fin chirped in greeting, brown eyes wide as he rubbed the side of his face against your shin like a cat. You smiled, just as you did every time Connor greeted you that way, and reached down to run your hand through his slicked brown hair. And like every other time, his eyes became half-lidded and a soft rumble came from his chest.

The other Ceta sapien with the dark, limp dorsal fin, his twin brother, kept at a tentative distance. Icy grey eyes, the color of stone in the dim light, watched with an unreadable expression. That was to be expected from Nines, but you knew him long enough to know that he was pleased to see you.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said as you rolled up your pant leg, attempting to keep it dry and away from Connor’s affectionate rubbing. “Had a lot of work to finish up.”

Your smile faded as you took in the sight of the contraption around his head; a metal cage that acted as a muzzle, forced onto him earlier that day by the technicians. Nines must have done something to piss them off again.

“I hope you didn’t bite anyone this time,” you said gently, fishing a ring of keys out of your pocket. “Not that they don’t deserve it. I just don’t want them to put you in isolation again.”

You held out your hand to show him the keys. “Come here, I’ll take it off.”

You’d probably get in trouble for it, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The only reason you were still at this shitty job was because of the RK twins. Everyone else treated them like curiosities at best, lab rats at worst. You were genuinely afraid what would happen to them if you left.

Connor rested his chin on your bare knee as he watched his brother cautiously swim toward you. His face normally didn’t have a huge range of expression, but you could have sworn the area around his eyes was tight with fear. That wasn’t like him at all.

Making sure your movements were slow and unthreatening, you reached down to the small padlock keeping the strap in place. The techs had put it there because Nines had figured out how to undo the straps and remove the muzzle himself, leaving it at the bottom of the massive tank so the divers would have to get it. Probably on purpose, knowing him.

Your fingers were careful as you removed the lock and pulled open the straps, lifting the cruel device from around his face.

“There,” you said, tossing the muzzle away, glad to be rid of it. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

Nines remained silent as he usually did, nowhere near as vocal as his brother, but he brushed the edge of one broad shoulder against your calf, leaving you warm with surprise as he retreated a safe distance. You could count on one hand the times he’d made physical contact, and as far as you knew, you were the only person he’d ever touched willingly.

Connor, on the other hand, was an insatiable cuddle-bug, and even now he was nudging his nose against your leg, and then actually licked it, making you jump.

“You’re especially clingy today.” You ran your fingers through his hair, eliciting another happy thrill. “Is it because of what they did to Nines?”

The smaller ceta was normally much more friendly with humans, but when they handled Nines roughly, he could become a vicious storm of teeth and claws. The techs never worked on them both at the same time for that reason, separating them into different pools and causing them both more stress than necessary.

You hated it. Hated everything about this place, from the rough techs to the cruel doctors. Dr. Stern made your blood run cold, but Dr. Kamski made the flesh on the back of your neck prickle. You hated them both, and you were human. You couldn’t imagine what it was like for the twins.

“It’s okay,” you said, rubbing Connor’s cheek now and letting him lean into your palm. “You’re both okay now.”

A lie you had to tell but hated telling. More than you hated your heartless bosses who only saw the cetas as a source of grant money and academic prestige.

As if they could sense your mood, which you were half-convinced they could, Connor wrapped his fingers around your ankle and gently tugged. He was always gentle with your legs, especially on bad pain days. That’s just how Connor was, in tune with your moods in a way that was almost unsettling.

Even Nines swam closer, brows perked with interest as he hovered a couple feet away.

“I don’t know if I have time for that tonight, guys,” you said, shoulders hunched. “It’s late and I have to be in early tomorrow—“

Connor interrupted you with a pitiful noise very close to a whine and his brother frowned up at you, lips pursed into an expression that was almost, and hilariously, bitchy. Sometimes, you really thought they understood what you were saying. You wished more than anything they could talk, but they couldn’t. They weren’t human, no matter how you wished otherwise.

Connor gave up on pulling you into the water, and instead propped his chin on your knee, staring up at you with big brown eyes that could put an actual puppy to shame.

“I can’t,” you insisted, the sternness of your voice sabotaged by the smile creeping on your lips. “Not tonight.”

The larger ceta snorted through his nostrils and turned away. You thought he was going to ignore you and pout, but instead he dived beneath the surface and—

You yelped and covered your head with your hands as his large black and white tail slapped against the surface, covering you in an impressive wave of cold water.

“Oh, you asshole!” you choked out as you wiped the water from your eyes. Connor was making a rapid-fire clicking noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter. You sent him a narrowed glare and his lips widened into a toothy grin.

“Don’t encourage him,” you said, pointing a figure at Connor. The smaller ceta simply tilted his head as if he had no idea what on earth you were talking about and he’d never done anything wrong in his life.

You really were spending too much time with them. It was a bad habit of yours, seeing things that couldn’t possibly be there. Little looks and gestures that seemed to mean something more, and you constantly had to remind yourself it was all wishful thinking and loneliness.

Huffing and rolling your eyes, you pulled your legs out of the water and rose to your feet. You needed to put a stop to this and start spending time with other people, even if you would rather be here than anywhere else in the world.

Connor made a small, pathetic chirp as he swam to the edge of the water. He grabbed the ledge and stared up at you, and you could have sworn there was sadness there. Even the armband around his right bicep, normally glowing blue, brightened to a bright yellow, reflecting his increase in heart rate and blood pressure.

Goddammit.

“Okay. Okay. You two are gonna get me fired, you know that?” Your protested sounded weak to your own ears, but it was all worth it to see Connor’s ears perk up and his armband return to a soothing blue.

Even Nines had come back, waiting along the edge of the research pool with Connor, staring up at you expectantly. His armband had never changed from its blue color, but that was just how he was. Somehow, he’d learned how to keep his vital signs calm and cool, even when he was seconds away from trying to take off someone’s fingers.

The techs blamed faulty equipment even though they’d never found anything wrong with the armband. You knew better; Nines had learned the humans used the armbands as a gauge to predict their moods, and Nines had outsmarted them. And would continue to outsmart them, because you seemed to be the only person who realized what he was up to.

Sometimes, like right now, as he was leveling his unblinking, heavy gaze at you while you got undressed, made you wonder just how smart he was. Even now, his grey eyes were too aware, and you had to turn away as you tugged off your clothing.

You wore a bathing suit underneath, a two-piece consisting of boy shorts and a halter top. It was convenient in that it acted like underwear under your clothing, and let you slip into the pool at the end of your shift to swim with the twin brothers.

The swimsuit also had the benefit of being kind of sexy. Not that you were trying to impress anyone. It was sad enough the brothers were the closest things you had to friends.

You sat down at the edge of the water and turned around, resting the ledge against your stomach so you could slip down into the water more easily.

A pair of arms grabbed you from behind immediately, pulling you down into the water.

You gave a startled yelp, sputtered as salt water entered your mouth, and spit it out with an annoyed growl. The arms didn’t let you go, and instead pull you back against a warm chest as he swam backwards along the surface of the water.

Usually Connor gave you a little more time to adjust before grabbing you and swimming around like a seal with its favorite toy.

Normally you tolerated it, but you couldn’t stay as long as you usually did, and you wanted to actually get some swimming done to try and ease the pain in your leg joints and soothe the rigid calf muscles.

“Okay, Connor, that’s enough.”

A frantic chirp came from the left from a few feet away. You opened your eyes, startled to find Connor following after you.

You tensed, heart hammering as your limbs went rigid, and the ceta carrying you along slowed to a stop. He didn’t release his hold and you looked down to see the arms were slightly bigger than they should have been.

Oh, fuck, was your first thought.

He’s going to eat me, was your second.

You took a breath and tried to hold your voice steady. “Nines. I need you to let me go.”

You remained firmly within his embrace. If anything, he slightly tightened his grip.

He’s is definitely going to fucking eat me.

“Nines, let me go.”

The fear was definitely clear in your voice now. He must have heard it. You were so screwed. It was the only thing your brain would repeat, even though human deaths by cetas were rare these days. They still happened, though, and the corded muscles holding you still could easily tear you limb from limb.

Connor moved closer, head tilted in curiosity, but worse, his armband was glowing yellow again.

Blue, go through.

Yellow, not mellow.

Red, you’re dead.

The motto the technicians lived by. You were pretty sure you were dead anyway, even without the color codes. You glanced down at Nines’ armband and it was yellow too.

Not good.

Connor chirped sharply at his brother. Nines returned the sound with a lower, deeper growl. The monkey part of your brain told you a shark was about to sink its rows of teeth around your neck.

Connor released another series of noises, complex chirps and clicks you’d never heard before, and could have sworn… they were talking. Sure, cetas communicated with each other, but they didn’t have a language. They didn’t—

Connor moved forward and Nines moved back in equal measure. You could feel the bend of his tail against your legs, long and powerful, and the monkey part of your brain shrieked in fear again.

It was nothing compared to the terror when Nines took you away from Connor and picked up speed. You knew he was going to pull you under the water, drown you, probably not even doing it on purpose.

Tears pricked your eyes as your heart thudded in your chest. This was it. They were going to find you at the bottom of the pool the next morning, drowned and partially eaten.

Would anyone even care?

“Nines, stop!”

Your mouth hung open, your brain unable to process. You hadn’t shouted the words.

Nines came to an immediate standstill. Connor swam forward, brows furrowed sharply as his eyes darted between you and his brother.

“You’re scaring her.”

The words were soft, gentle, and impossibly coming from Connor’s mouth.

“Unfortunate,” a voice said, directly next to your ear. A voice that sounded almost identical to Connor’s. “But unavoidable.”

A hand clamped down over your mouth when you tried to scream, but the fight was already going out of you as an intense dizziness hit, leaving you woozy and weak. This couldn’t be happening.

They were talking.

Next Chapter

[savnofilter]

TW: MENTIONS OF DISCOURSE, GR//MING, P/D/PHILIA, ASS//LT, C//NSENT, D//RK CONTENT.

- this isnt under a read more because i want people to read this, but please read past this/tread carefully if you cannot handle such topics. this is not meant to be interacted with.

I'm not sure how to really go about this. I've been overthinking if I should address this and bring up some stuff while I've been gone, so sorry the absence. I deleted the tumblr app a few days ago and I downloaded it again today so i could post this. I really don't like making posts like this because it cuts the vibe that I've been trying to portray that everything is okay and it makes me feel really disconnected to you guys. I am sorry for the abrupt absence and cutting off any source of communication between us. I knew if I left any form of direct line of talk to me that I would receive hate and I just mentally decided that I cant sit through being harassed right now.

Have you guys ever paid attention to the same people who always have a statement to say or is always in discourse? It's very telling how everyone can post about me, but I shouldnt dare post about them. I'm tired of not being able to post about what I want without people vague posting about me, bringing me up every time they start another discourse with another writer or directly talking about me. My days on here are starting to feel the same. Its good then it goes bad. Good goes bad and bad goes good. It's not even tiring, annoying, or angering -- its repetitive. When I'm not saying anything people create fake stories about me, and when i speak about it im the one starting discourse. Don't get me wrong, I'm nowhere near perfect and I have made my own mistakes. But why the fuck am I always being told to be the mature one, why am I the one who should've done better, why do you people expect so much from me. It's the fact people are always quick to say, "no one cares about you, youre fishing for attention" when they're the ones who vague and interact with me while ive been minding my business for months now. Hm. The fact people have me proudly blocked but still harass me anyways shows a lot about themselves than it does for me. How its such an issue that im a minor until it comes to demonizing, tearing down my character, gaslighting, lying and bullying. I'm a literal example of how their friend group manipulates their followers and exiles people from fandoms for not kissing their ass. except now its in your face.

Consider this my last post about this discourse. I'm not going to waste my time on people who fail to digest other peoples thoughts and opinions time and time again because theyre weak narcissists. If I so choose to decide to shit post my opinions or argue with someone, none of you should be aggravated or moved by it because youre not even supposed to be on my page. If its not something serious i will not be wasting energy that i can be using to build on myself as a growing person than on miserable old ladies that have to use fanfiction to have excitement in their pity, depressing and lackluster lives. If people so do choose to create stories or vague about me, I do not care. So I ask respectfully to people who do lurk on my page to not attempt to message, post or vague about me please. This includes sending anons to yourself to make shit happen.

Past that, something got me thinking. My (older) friend had showed me screenshots of adult writers (no one i have spoken to) that were very excited to write underaged reader with adult characters. There are other instances where writers (that you have probably read from) on here openly made reader underage while aging characters up as adults/with adults. There are many more but there's really no point in listing them nor do I really care. But least to say, the same people who are gung-ho over these pedophilic themes/stories are the same people who support predatory people.

I've been thinking about whether or not i should continue writing for the students anymore. Granted, I still think they're attractive because one snap of the fingers cant stop that. I had been teetering on this thought for awhile because of how borderline pedophilic the people are here towards my age group. I enjoy writing but not to the point of willingly being in a straight line of sight where people who are well over 16 are harassing me and lurking on my page, especially to other minors solely because they are my friends. Backtracking to the statement before, I honestly dont know if I will either stop writing or just for the students as a whole. It shows that clearly some people are using their attraction to teens with the excuse that the characters are fake. The rapid normalization on dark problematic "kinks" is disgusting and vile, and the fact that its discourse now to shame said interests is appalling. Concluding that combined with my experiences here, i feel unsafe.

***(TRIGGER WARNING)*** I dont talk about my personal life on here that much cause I dont see the need too nor do i think its anyone's business. Paired with the fact that the people i have trusted personal information with have used it against me, I will be preventing myself from opening that door. Besides that for now, I have sparsely shared I've been assaulted before. This is my first time really opening up about this and i kind of find it necessary now. Coming from someone who has been a victim of assault and CP by people my age and well over, writing nsfw has been the only way where I could feel comfortable with sex in general. I won't get into details because mentioning this is triggering already and can make people uncomfortable. It feels like anywhere I go, I'm constantly putting myself in a position to be abused. The same people who told me I didn't have to worry about my age and be judged for it, exposed the minimum comfort of keeping myself private online to demonize, judge and hurt me. People call me "extra" for being distraught about my face and age being posted because they think im trying to be sneaky which isn't the case. Its the principle that they KNEW I wasnt ready to share said things, and coming from someone who is inherently a private and closed person, she knew damn well what she was doing when posting screenshots of me on Tumblr. There is no excuse for it. The same writers who write dub/non-con can BARELY understand basic consent and its fucking terrifying. This site was the only other place I could cope without being criticized. To see people who some i was close to proudly lie on my name, (adults) say that i sent them pornographic content without their consent is so very hurtful. To watch people supposedly be victims and then use their own trauma to invalidate my own was so fucking humiliating, disgusting and nerve wracking. Although I knew I made the terrible decision to interact with stories, I have never initiated any NSFW discussion with anyone in DMs unless they did it with me first and a few times -- and trust me raise your hand I'll show you the proof. I was sure that everyone I talked to regularly knew that I was a minor, and to my general consensus, people were under the impression I was 15/16 (which I was and am).***

Whether it be victim blaming from the grooming discourse, I've been met with racism, harassment towards my friends, people wanting me to harm myself and be assaulted. I fear what will happen when i will turn 18, if the harassment will escalate and what not. A big part of me is that I'm still here anyways because it pisses people off and I don't care when I receive hate. I can take it but I don't want it. A good conscious of me knows that I should be doing what's best for me but at the end I'm still attached to my ego-self with the added fact that I sincerely enjoy interacting with my followers and posting stories.

I just don't know how the options look. I'll probably be updating my blog rules as of right now. I've been writing more sfw lately because of this and it'd be nice if you guys supported those until I properly decide. I still have plenty of requests of a bunch of characters (mostly Bakugo and Dabi) and original stuff (all sfw & nsfw) that I really wanna share with you guys. But I just ask that what I do modify that you will respect it like you would to any other writer on here.

Stay safe, keep your mask on, and thank you.

[fandom-necromancer]

A fresh Start 2

This was prompted by an amazing anon! I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

It had become quite late as they had finished talking and Gavin had offered Nines to stay the night. Not that the android really needed to sleep, but he appreciated the gesture. He was given a pillow and blanket – useless if he could just enter stasis standing somewhere in the corner – and was shown the sofa. Nines sighed as he sat down and angled the pillow against the armrest. It was… nice after all. And certainly the better option knowing Connor and Hank would bombard him with questions once he came home. Like this he at least had the night to think about the right words to explain what happened and at the same time not betray the newfound trust the Detective had put in him.

By the time Gavin awakened, he still hadn’t found them. They shared little words while the human got ready for work and offered to drive them both as he would be driving anyways. When they entered the precinct, all attention shifted towards them. Gavin ignored all the looks thrown his way although Nines could clearly see his shoulders tense and his head duck a bit. He himself tried to follow his partner’s lead to get to their desks and may have kept his posture a bit straighter than it normally was. He guessed after yesterday it was normal for them to be curious. It likely would take a few days until they had forgotten about-

‘Nines!’ The android looked up and saw Fowler standing at the door of his glass cube. ‘To my office!’ Nines shared a look with Gavin before making his way over there. ‘Captain Fowler’, he greeted the man and immediately the glass frosted over for more privacy. ‘Nines’, the Captain nodded back. ‘Care to explain what happened yesterday?’ ‘Gavin had… a lot of feelings, none of them good. I believe they overwhelmed him after you ordered a suspension, Sir. It was just another example of him lashing out.’ The man fixed him with his eyes and pursed his lips. ‘I don’t think so, RK. I’ve known the boy for a while know. In many aspects he is like a son to me. That yesterday looked far too serious for just one of his… tantrums.’ ‘It… was’, was everything Nines dared to say to that. He promised to keep Gavin’s secret and he wouldn’t break it, not even to Fowler.

‘He didn’t hurt you, did he?’, Fowler asked, standing up now. ‘You have to tell me or HR if he did. I am willing to turn a blind eye to most of his shit, but I won’t stand for that.’ ‘No’, Nines spoke up clearly. ‘No, he didn’t hurt me in any way, though I believe I hurt him.’ Fowler lifted a brow. ‘Not physically’, Nines explained. ‘But I think I failed to see all the consequences of my actions towards him.’ The Captain sat down on the edge of his table now, his body language telling Nines this wasn’t at all a formal meeting as Detective and Captain of the 5th precinct. This was… personal. ‘He didn’t look hurt to me when you two came in just now. And you came at exactly the same time when Connor and Hank arrived a lot earlier. Don’t you all live together?’ Nines didn’t know what to say to that and Fowler misunderstood: ‘I don’t need to know what you people do in your free time as long as it doesn’t concern work. But if it endangers the integrity of my officers, I need to know. In which way did you think you hurt Detective Reed?’

Nines looked him in the eye, thinking hard about how much he could tell. He remembered what Gavin had unveiled to him yesterday. ‘You do know Gavin has mental illnesses recognised in his patient’s file, don’t you?’ As his employer, Fowler should know that at least, so he didn’t have to straight up lie to his superior. ‘Yes, I know’, the man sighed. ‘He has problems arising from his upbringing. He… he never told me what happened exactly, but his father is a real asshole.’ ‘You met him?’, Nines asked in surprise. ‘Yeah, when Gavin was promoted to Detective Tina decided to celebrate. I was invited, too, as well as Gavin’s family. They… Well, let’s say they were the first ones to leave again.’ Nines nodded. ‘Well, let’s say I triggered some of these issues with my behaviour. But after my shift ended I visited him to apologise and we… we talked about it. I think now that I know what to look out for, something like yesterday won’t happen again.’

‘I appreciate your effort, Nines’, Fowler said. ‘Just… You do know you don’t have to? If you don’t feel comfortable with this, I can assign different partners to you two. Or even offer a transfer.’ ‘I know’, Nines dismissed the thought. ‘But I don’t want to. I think it would do Gavin good to have a partner for longer than a few months – someone he can confide in. I like working with the Detective and if anything our talk reassured me I want to continue working beside him.’ Nines had expected many things at that, but not a warm smile from the Captain and a strong hand on his shoulder. ‘This is really good to hear’, Fowler sighed. ‘I knew it was a good decision to partner you up. I hoped you were stubborn enough to put up with the challenge. He really needs a partner. He really needs a friend. He is a good man, always was. He just needs someone to see his qualities.’ Nines nodded and thought about what Gavin had told him the day before. Maybe he couldn’t fix the man. But maybe he didn’t have to when all he needed was someone to listen. ‘I hope I can be that friend’, he simply said and looked up as Fowler stood to walk back around his chair. ‘Then I wish you luck and endurance’, The Captain sighed again, clearing the glass. ‘That would be all.’

-

Gavin hadn’t asked what the meeting was about. Maybe he wasn’t interested. Maybe he already guessed it. They worked together on their cases, Gavin signing everything off to him so that he had access to what he needed during his suspension from the job next week. Everything went smoothly and something akin to a normal working atmosphere had settled in quickly enough to brush over what happened yesterday. When Gavin left work early, Nines wished him a nice weekend and was already back to work as Connor strolled over. ‘You alright, Nines?’, he asked. ‘Yes, I am, why do you ask?’ ‘Well, after what happened yesterday and… you didn’t come home. I thought maybe you could need someone to speak with?’ ‘I’m fine, Connor. I just misjudged Gavin, that is all.’ Connor wordlessly held out his hand to interface and Nines looked at it for a few seconds. Then he looked over to Hank. The man had been depressed for several years and only just now showed signs of becoming better. Maybe Connor’s insight on the matter would help. ‘Connor, I trust you not to tell anyone about this, alright? I need you to keep quiet. Can you do that for me?’ The RK800 nodded and Nines took his hand. Interfacing was likely the fastest way of communicating. It could send emotions, memories and thoughts to another person in the blink of an eye. And still it needed a few moments for Nines to convey to Connor everything that plagued him at the moment.

When they disconnected, Connor blinked a few times, aimlessly staring at Gavin’s desk. ‘He never appeared to me as a person of such depth.’ ‘Really?’, Nines asked. ‘What did you think he was?’ ‘Just the regular asshole?’, Connor shrugged, realising only then how bad that sounded. ‘I never had much to do with him. We only ever met if he stood in my way.’ Nines grimaced. ‘Do the others think like this too?’ ‘I guess so. And after what you showed me I realise we might be part of the problem.’

‘Well, I don’t blame you’, Nines tried to comfort the gradually more and more distressed android. ‘You couldn’t have known he wasn’t just the regular asshole.’ ‘But I do blame myself, Nines!’, Connor commented, leaning against his desk. ‘I’m supposed to pick up such things. I’m part negotiator unit.’ ‘It wasn’t your mission.’ ‘But what about now? Since I’m deviant missions doesn’t matter anymore.’ ‘He hid it well.’ ‘Could you please stop trying to find excuses for me?!’, Connor exploded, quickly gathering his bearings afterwards. ‘Sorry.’ ‘I will stop if you stop finding reasons why it would be your fault.’ Nines sighed. ‘I guess his family is at fault. But… Damn, I don’t know anymore. I want to concentrate on making it better, not find the person who is to blame and hand them over to the Detective. I truly doubt that will help.’

‘Yes, yes you’re right…’ Connor scratched his forehead and took out his coin to let it slide over his knuckles a few times. ‘Nines, I promise to try and help you. Maybe I can try set an example for the others? If someone starts being friendly maybe the rest will follow?’ ‘That’s the strategy I went with’, Nines smirked. ‘And I see it’s working, so go for it.’ Connor chuckled. ‘I will. Err… and Nines?’ ‘Yes?’ ‘Could you tell him I’m sorry?’ ‘For what?’ ‘He’ll know for what, Nines. Just… I can’t do it face to face yet. We don’t exactly trust each other.’ ‘Alright, I will.’ Connor smiled, before heading over to his own desk where Hank was standing up. ‘Thank you, Nines! And good luck!’

Nines shook his head and shut down his workstation. Why did everyone wish him good luck lately? Gavin wasn’t a dangerous animal or some inscrutable person. He obviously simply needed someone to trust and confide in. And Nines would try his best to be exactly that.

[worfs-glorious-hair]

Puzzle Pieces: Interlude-What is a soulmate?(RK-800 Connor x Reader; Deroit: Become Human) Part 4

Greeeeeetings!

I am glad to be back (finally) after a whole year. I am sorry. 

A lot happened and I hope that you are in a safe space. I am sending you a social-distanced and corona-free hug! <3

Also, big shoutout to all the old and new readers and peeps who found their way to this fanfiction in the last year. Reading the notifications of likes and retweets and even asks to be tagged in the next part never failed to make me feel so happy and giggly inside. This chapter was actually posted already a few weeks ago on AO3 but only now I finally got around to update on here as well. So extra-kudos for your extra-patience! :D <3

We’re doing some world-building in this chapter and our boi Connor feels things and is overall confused by the answers he finds. A lot to look forward to for you. :D

And one more thing until I finally let you go to reading, I decided to specify the reader's pronouns and settled with female pronouns. But otherwise than that I still try to write the reader as open as possible that you have more room to find yourself in the story. If you would prefer different pronouns, tho, please message me and we'll figure something out for you. I am there for you and I want to respect your pronouns and want you to have a good reading experience.

Spoilers for the game in the following chapter, btw. 

I think I’ve kept you from the chapter now long enough. Enjoy reading. <3

Message me if you want to be tagged in the next chapter.

Stay safe and please be responsible and wear a mask over nose and mouth. 

All my love, lady-spacy

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 

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Interlude- What is a soulmate?

"Lieutenant", Connor asked, "what is a soulmate? I noticed that the subject of 'soulmates' appears in two out of three conversations and it caused always a measurable change in one's body chemistry. For example, I detected an increased level of serotonin and..."

"Do you stop talking if I answer your question?", a very tired Lieutenant Anderson interrupted Connor's analysis. Hank knew that if he wouldn't be stopped soon, Connor would continue to talk about hormones and blushes and cheesy giggles and all that exhausting stuff that came with the topic of soulmates. The only way to shut that noisy android up was to answer his questions and they would be in the car to Kamski’s estate for another twenty minutes. And twenty minutes could be long next to someone who wants to talk so badly when all you want to do is to drive in peace.

"Of course, Lieutenant."

Hank rolled his eyes and fought the urge to sigh, of fucking course would that shut Connor up. He was predictable after all, very – curious but predictable.

“A soulmate is your, uh, uhm, your lifelong partner. I mean, not your partner, I don’t think Androids have soulmates…”, Hank eyed Connor from the side and wondered what his LED ring on his temple looked like. He had realized that whenever Connor was thinking about something his LED would spin around, sometimes slow, sometimes even faster. Sometimes it would even change the color and would go from blue to yellow.

And now Hank found himself wondering what that Android did to him, that he cared about what Connor thought.

Connor had watched Hank closely and attentive. He wanted to know, he wanted to understand.

“No, Lieutenant, Androids do not have soulmates. But I still don’t understand what a soulmate differs from a good friend? What is it that makes you have the names written on your bodies, who decides on what name, which person, will appear on your body, why are your destinies supposed to be connected by something, apparently without your consent. Did you ever choose to have a soulmate?”

‘Yeah’, Hank thought by himself, ‘good questions.’

“Soulmates are a difficult topic”, he finally spoke out loud. Trying to find words to explain a concept that no one really understood.

”Even scientists didn’t’t found all answers”, continued Hank, “as far as I know, they aren’t even close. We don’t know what bonds us to another human being. Soulmates are said to be ‘tied together from the universe itself’”, Hank drew quotation marks in the air with his right hand that wasn’t on the wheel, “but whatever it is that decided about that, we’re having to deal with that shit now. And for your question, soulmates are supposed to be partners, lovers even, a team that belongs together. People who give each other security and safety. It’s a nice idea but in reality it doesn’t play out. We don’t choose our soulmates and don’t get a say with it. There is no ‘consent’ in that soulmate shit, as you put it in words.”

“Have you found your soulmate, Lieutenant? Was your heart broken and this is why you now doubt the idea of soulmates? I can detect patterns of emotional distress in your voice.”

“Jeez, do you try to be fucking psychiatrist now?”

„No“, came Connor‘s immediate answer.

„I am just trying to understand human nature better.”

“Well, there is a name on my wrist, if that’s what you want to know. But at the end it was only a name. Just because you have a name there doesn’t mean that you will live happily ever after. Life can still happen…”

For Hank this was it, he had already said enough. He glanced over to Connor who still looked at him, Hank, with this never ending gleam of curiosity and analyzing that always surrounded him.

Android? Hank wondered if this was truly the nature of that boy, sure his body was artificial but what about his heart?

‘Androids don’t have hearts’ would have said the Hank from just four days ago and now he just wasn’t sure about that anymore. He had seen so much, he had seen two girls, who were so deeply in love that they were willing to do anything to be together, he had seen Connor deciding not to shoot these girls and let them get away, obviously going against his programming as a hunter.

And then Connor’s answers two nights ago on that playground, Hank had seen trouble in his eyes, he had heard the poorly covered confusion in his voice, which left him confused as well.

Hank started to wonder if they were wrong, what if Androids could be more than the illusion of a human?

“Mr Kamski?“, Hank called, when he and Connor were finally let in to meet Elijah Kamski.

“Just a moment, please”, came the immediate answer from the other side of the room, where the former CEO of Cyberlife was currently swimming in a pool with red tiles that made it look like it was filled with blood instead of water.

While they waited for him to come out of the pool, Connor took the time to look around in the large room with big art pieces on the walls and a glass window that filled the whole outer wall and showed the view towards the frozen Detroit River.

He turned around again when he heard water splashing, signaling a body that was lifted out of it and he saw Kamski climbing up the pool ladder.

Acting on a sudden impulse Connor tried to catch a glimpse of Kamski’s wrist hoping to see his soulmark as the RT-600 Chloe, who had opened the door for them, helped Kamski put on a bath robe but before he came close enough to see, Kamski turned around to the window and fixed his hair.

When he turned back to him and Hank he smirked at Connor, just as he had read his mind, and crossed his hands loosely over is lower abdomen, completely blocking the view to his wrists.

And kept his hands like this for the rest of the conversation.

„I always leave an emergency exit in my programs…“, Kamski looked at Connor with his sly, sparkling eyes, full with endless smugness and the touch of a smirk on the corners of his mouth.

As if this whole exchange has not been confusing and frightening enough for Connor, he had to deal with this mysterious comment now, too. What does that mean? What does he want to say with it?

Connor would like to ask but he would probably just get another riddle as an answer.

“Connor, wait!”

A voice called him back as he was about to head outside.

He stopped and turned around to the original RT-600 model, her eyes burning with an intensity and significance that Connor had never seen before, at least not in an Android’s eyes. He could not look away.

Again, as he locked eyes with the very first Android, who was able to pass the Turing test, he saw more there. For the same reason that he hasn’t been able to shoot not even seven minutes ago, for the same reason did he now stop in his tracks and waited patiently for what she had to say.

She...

That word lingered in his mind for a very long moment.

‘What is happening?’ screamed his mind, unable to cope. His mind was drowning in too many illogical new information and sensations.

This is too much!

‘I can’t look away’, Connor realized as he stared into her burning eyes, his mind being filled with just one thought: ‘Whatever is happening here right now is important! Don’t blink!’

“The truth is beneath your skin”, she said hastily, softly tipping on his right wrist with her index finger, right where the sleeves of his jacket ended.

He followed the movement of her finger with his eyes and stared at his wrist. What could be there, hiding, waiting?

“The truth is there, everything you need to know!” Connor did not know what to say or do, he just kept staring at his wrist, trying to see, to understand, what she could possibly be talking about.

He continued staring at his wrist and her finger until he finally came back to his senses, after too many seconds that are an eternity for Androids.

Blinking away once again the warning for the never ending, wildly spinning software instability that had appeared when that Chloe had stopped him.

Connor practically sprinted outside to Hank and his car.

^^ Software Instability ^^

      R#aN%9I=97&°

Connor took a step back in surprise, Androids could have soulmates!

Ortiz’ Android had a soulmark! Written in blue CyberLife fond stood a name on the Android’s wrist, Melanie.

Maybe the soulmarks came with deviancy, Connor thought, maybe their soulmate was only revealed when they became deviant. Meaning that there had always been someone who was meant to be- waiting, sleeping under the skin. Meaning that deviancy was a lot more than a virus or a software error. Deviancy could be a revelation of life in all of it’s aspects.

But deviancy was just an irregularity in the programming, Connor thought, seeking comfort in programmed truths that he wanted to believe so badly. Truths that did not feel true anymore. But if he didn’t believe in them, he had nothing left to believe in. Connor was lost. Lost between the destroyed bodies of Androids who had only wanted peace, justice or a home.

Connor stood on an edge, every time a software instability appeared he could see the abyss, he did not want to fall!

So he clung onto the only truths he ever knew. Otherwise he would become like them, just another broken machine.

He continued examining the Androids’ bodies and finds from his missions for a clue for Jericho in the evidence room of the Detroit Police Department. While he scanned and analyzed, he tried to find comfort in the tasks that he was created for–the software instabilities that occurred even more regularly now in the past days confused and scared him, Connor couldn’t comprehend what was happening to him- he needed to be uninterrupted if he wanted to find the deviant leader and finally bring back order into this chaos.

Connor craved peace, he craved the monotone calmness of executing programs and tasks, no emotions, no insecurities, no confusion.

But his thoughts came always back to soulmates- how could this be possible?

Deviancy was maybe caused by a computer virus and soulmates were supposed to be a real lifelong connection between two human beings, that were alive and had a soul. Soulmates for Androids just couldn’t work, Androids just don’t have souls!

They are only machines, programmed to think, they have no real mind of their own and yet all of the Androids in the evidence room had their soulmarks on their wrists.

Daniel even had a name written in red by a human’s hand as his soulmark.

A human had been Daniel’s soulmate… But what about his soulmate now, do they search now forever for someone who is not alive anymore?

Alive…

And again, another warning for a software instability appeared in Connor‘s periphery. He blinked it away.

How could this be that he had actually thought of Daniel as ‘once alive’?

He, Connor, the currently on duty RK- 800 model, the android sent by CyberLife to hunt down deviants, who was faster, better and more advanced than any Android before him, who was programmed to follow orders, that were given to him, with precision and no room for doubts, second thoughts or even a mind of his own, he, Connor, had thought about an Android who he had hunted down with that precision, executing his advanced negotiating programs and earning the Android‘s trust in the end, as dead.

Alive means that something can die, not to be destroyed, not to be deactivated, not to be shut down. Life and death are terms to describe flesh and blood, red blood. Not blue blood.

But maybe, Connor thought and the LED on his temple went yellow for yet another time on this day, maybe, just maybe, was there another truth for Androids and for him. Maybe there was life and death and love and emotions, maybe there was a soul.

It was as time had slowed down for a moment as he jumped, no, as he was flying...

He saw snowflakes passing him in slow motion, he was seeing all their details, all their individuality, despite their outer uniformity of one shared build.

It was mesmerizing–and odd.

Odd because he saw their beauty, he did not just made an analysis of their geometrical structures or chemical composition, he saw them glittering and dancing in the lights of the pier.

This was new and wonderful, it was as he would be seeing for the first time, as he had been blindfolded all this time...

The moment passed as Connor hit through the surface of the Detroit River, dulled from the water around him he could hear the explosion of Jericho behind him.

‘I hope everyone made it out’, he thought as he resurfaced.

His head was spinning, not from the explosion or the jump in the freezing cold water, physically he was in perfect condition, but mentally it did feel like he just jumped out of a 20 meter freighter that exploded right behind him. He was feeling– something. Emotions were still so new to him that naming them was difficult for Connor.

He was deviant now! He had broken down the red wall that had kept him in place for so long, he had pushed and pulled against the order to stop Markus until the wall crumbled down, fell around him. Connor had lowered the gun and did the only thing that he could in that moment to show his gratitude. He warned Markus. The FBI would come and attack Jericho. He knew about the plans and in another world, a lifetime ago, did he plan to help the soldiers and to hunt Markus down, to drive him into a corner and to end the uprising, there and now. But now, everything was different. The hunter had become the prey in just a blink of an eye. Everything was different now.

‘What will Markus do now?’ Connor wondered. ‘He knows just as well as I do, who it was, who had led the FBI, the humans, to Jericho. Can he ever trust me? Can I trust myself? I fell, now it happened, the abyss caught me…’

Connor set course for the pier and swam towards a short stone staircase that was normally used to board the smaller boats that landed there.

“Here, let me help you”, an Android, whom Connor did not know, smiled kindly down to him from the pier and offered him a hand, which Connor took after a short moment of doubt, how could that Android be kind to him, he was the deviant hunter after all. The unfamiliar Android held Connor’s hand firmly and quickly helped him out of the water, while Connor climbed up the steps, slick and slippery from the water and several kinds of algae and seaweed.

The Android made a sound of satisfaction and nodded as Connor finally stood next to him, dripping wet and his beanie and hair sticking to his forehead. That he had not lost the beanie surprised him, but it was a pleasant surprise, finding a way through the city under curfew would be much easier with the beanie now that would hide his LED.

“Ah, there we go. How are you?”, the Android asked him and smiled again, warm, kind and honest.

There was no hostility in his eyes, smile or posture, Connor came to the conclusion that he just simply did not know who he was.

And he enjoyed his friendliness, never before had he been treated with such kindness.

“I am good, thank you. I should dry up. Otherwise I am afraid that my servos will freeze and cause severe damage to my system.”

A human would have probably not survived a jump like that and if they would have survived the jump itself, the freezing water would have quickly led to a fatal hypothermia, if they would have not be gotten out of the water very quickly and put out of their wet clothes and into a warm place with new clothes, but Connor was not human and it helped him survive now.

Being able to carefully heat up his inner systems he was able to dry himself up from the inside and to even dry his hair and clothes.

Feeling better now, as he was dried up again and could move all of his joints without any hindrance, he tried to smile at the gentle Android, to show him his gratitude.

He smiled back at him, again, warm, welcoming and sincere.

„I am Malcolm by the way, who are you?“

And for the second time this evening the Android, Malcolm, offered Connor his hand.

Malcolm, radiated such warmth and love, he was more human than many humans were and it was easy to take his outstretched hand and shake it. Connor felt safe with him and his heavy heart got a little lighter from his friendliness.

„It is good to meet you, Malcolm, my name-“, Connor stopped mid-sentence, he was about to use his programmed introduction, just stating his given name and origin in CyberLife but the name they had given him had become his identity he was now more than the Android sent by CyberLife…

With a short nod he decided to be Connor and closed his still open introduction with a, hopefully, friendly look on his face: „I am Connor!“

A human wouldn’t have noticed, but Connor did, how Malcolm’s brows just slightly rose and a look of, was it surprise or even delightment, took over Malcolm’s face for a brief moment until he started smiling ever so slightly again and even seemed to be satisfied.

„Ever heard of soulmates, Connor?“, Malcolm asked with a sly grin tugging on the left corner of his mouth and Connor was confused.

“Hey, would you show me your arm, please?”

Even more confused now Connor looked over to Malcolm who had anticipation written all over his face.

“Why do you want to see my arm?” asked Connor back and Malcolm’s face got soft.

“I have a debt to pay and if you are, who I think you are, you can help me do that. I have a friend, who was always there for me, even long before I became deviant, was I treated with kindness and humanity by her and she also helped me to come to Detroit, so I can stand, march, fight with my people. Without her help, I wouldn’t be here now. When I was lost, scared and afraid did she catch me in her arms. I owe her my life. She never asked for anything in return, she only said that it is what friends do for each other. But I was always very sad, that I would never be able to do for her what she had done for me. But that I’ve met you right now, right here, was a sign that I can make her biggest dream come true.”

“Her biggest dream?”, Connor asked, his wrist tingling.

Malcolm nodded and smiled brightly. “Yes. Because I think that I’ve found her soulmate.”

Malcolm stopped walking and turned to Connor, grabbing him by the shoulders, smiled softly and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Connor, I think you are my friend’s soulmate, who she had prayed for, for her entire life!”

Soulmate…

Something inside of Connor was spinning, soulmate, he had a soulmate?

Of course, of course he had a soulmate, he was deviant now! How could he not? He had seen the prove of the possibility in the evidence room on each of the Androids’ bodies. On their wrists…

Excitement was rushing through him as he quickly pushed up the sleeves of his jacket and shirt and found a name on his right wrist. He stared at the red letters, sweepingly written, all of the bows and every line and dot written by his soulmate’s hand.

His soulmate!

Connor whispered your name, tasting it on his tongue.

Oh, he would never get enough of it!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 5

Tags: @sthorkronstrangy @tropfenlady @plaidamoosette @kazuha159 @clussysposts @peterhollandd

[youngbugandtonystank]

Please write an irondad post about how peter feels about tony!! I feel like the directors make peter’s view of tony more subtle than Tony’s view of peter and it’d be awesome if you could decode it! ;0

Hi!

God, Tom’s words really got me♥

I’m going to use the movies and novelizations for this, especially the Homecoming novelization since I think no one talks about it and I want to point out certain things.

Ok, check this out:

Tony’s POV:

Peter's voice was as exuberant and light as ever, something Tony both secretly admired and feared.  This battle would be no place for someone as green and unbroken as Peter Parker.

Tony smiled as Peter stood tall in the center.

"Yeah, that makes sense"  Peter said, and Tony's heart broke. Even hanging off the side of a spaceship hurtling into space, seconds from dying, Peter Parker was still just open and trusting as he'd always been.

--

Peter’s POV:

"What if she’s expecting someone like Tony Stark? I mean, imagine how disappointed she’d be when she sees me."

dorks.

I just wanted to be like you.

And I wanted you to be better.

You know that feeling you get when you admire someone and at the same time, you feel like you can actually understand them? Yeah, this is them. They work like a mirror. This is how Peter feels, just like Tony sees himself in the kid, Peter identifies himself in Tony. Peter and Tony both react the same way when it comes to their relationship. They both think the other is ‘better’ and at the same time, they can understand each other pretty well.

Tony’s POV:

At the same time, Tony knew there was nothing he could do to keep Peter away. Just like Tony, Peter had a code. 

Peter’s POV:

Of course, Mr. Stark hadn't believed him. He'd seen right through him.

Peter has stated before that Tony made him feel okay and normal, something he never thought he’d feel again. He knows that if he gets Tony’s approval then he gets to feel that normalcy again. He feels understood.

It was probably the only place in the city where I fit in. You had your overachievers, genius-level-yet-stressed-out-obsessive-compulsives, inventors of the Next Big Thing, all with at least one overblowing backpack, all wiling in to forge new ground and show the world that nerds really would inherit the earth. I was surrounded by students showing off their newest advances in AI technology, “rebels” furiously hacking their way to exposing corruption online, friends discussing string theory, and the probabilities of Stephen Hawking’s multiverse.

This is how Peter thinks of himself, he thinks his school is probably the only place he fits in. I think I mentioned this before in my homecoming analysis but Peter’s need to be an Avenger is because 1. he truly wants to make a difference, 2.he’s bored, he’s a genius kid and school is not doing enough for him anymore and 3. he feels like Tony is the only one that can understand him.

I don’t understand exactly why but some people think Peter is dumb. He can be clumsy sometimes but this kid is a genius and he understands the struggles of having a brain like his.

“Do geniuses know how normal things like backpacks even work?“

“Yes, we are familiar,“ Peter replied with a weak smile. If only she knew...

--

“Right as always,” Ms. Warren said, her praise causing Flash to stare daggers at me. Whatever.

--

“Yeah, my parents feel guilty working all the time, you guys would really get along, Peter” Her joke hit a little close to home, and I looked down a little.

--

He looked from the ship to the other kids on the bus to see if anyone else saw it. Nothing. Just him. As usual.

Peter not only wants the understanding that comes from Tony, but he also wants someone he can relate to. And I’m not talking about money or fame, I’m talking something deeper.

When they were on the plane, Peter criticized Tony’s choice of food as if telling him that what he was eating wasn’t enough to be considered ‘food’ and then proceeded to only have some juice and sleep the rest of the trip because he recklessly pulled an all-nighter. lmao irondad stans you guys are always accurate with your fics. 

Also, are you really going to tell me that this is not what a relationship between a father and a son look like?

"I really don't want to sound like my old man here. Look, kid, Just forget the flying man. Stay closer to the ground in Queens, build up your game helping the little people. You know, like the old lady who bought you that churro." That churro. Happy had told him everything. "Look, Tony—uh, Mr. Stark," I started. --

My suit agreed. "It does seem unwise. Trespassers are prosecuted. Or shot' "It's worse than that—if they find me in here, Mr. Stark is gonna kill me!" I started to panic. I had to get out of here! --

"Okay, sorry, Mr. Stark" I sighed. "I know you said to keep a low profile, but I gotta get out" I started banging on the door.

--

Tony Stark's words echoed in my head: Keep doing what you're doing, saving the little people.... Except these weren't just the little people"—they were my friends. As long as they were safe, everything would be okay. I didn't need to wait for that call to be an Avenger. I was already Spider-Man.

I just love how they unconsciously treated each other like family.

Peter, just like any other teenager, looks for validation from people he admires. In the Homecoming Novelization Peter congratulates himself every time he does something good and loves it when it comes from Tony for the same reasons I listed before.

Finally, we pulled up a safe distance from the apartment, so we didn’t attract too much attention. We sat in some seriously awkward silence for a moment before Mr. Stark finally said something.“Ya did good, kid,”

“I did good? I did good!“

“It’s yours,” Stark replied. “You earned it.” My heart was going a mile a minute. “Awesome!”

Look at them mirroring each other when it comes to them and how they feel.

Peter’s POV

“Yeah, and pretty soon it’s going to lead to a real job with him,” I said, trying to convince both him and myself.

Something really cute about them is that they both are exactly as you guys picture them in fanfics. They don’t say each other’s first name but think of each other that way.

Peter’s POV

“I thought I was gonna freeze up after Tony yelled out ‘Underoos.”

That churro. Happy had told him everything. "Look, Tony—uh, Mr. Stark," I started.

Tony’s POV

Tony had only continued onto the ship because he felt certain that he'd gotten Peter safely out of harm's way.

"Kid! Where'd you come from?" Iron Man asked, his voice sounding a little too relieved and grateful for his taste. 

They refuse to call each other by their names even if in IW they already had a more solid relationship than in HOCO, for them it’s ‘Kid’ and ‘Mr. Stark’. They even have other nicknames, as you already know but one of the cutest nicknames is ‘boss man’. Tom Holland calls RDJ that in real life and they used that nickname in the novelization.

When RDJ said this: 

The amount of betrayal Stark has had to deal with and what it's like to try and open up to someone new. The actor points out that Peter is young and that treachery comes with age. That his character is more willing to trust Peter because of his age. And how the relationship was established in the previous film when Tony shuts Peter down after he's been hurt. Not a move Tony would've done with most of the other Avengers, expecting them to push through just as he would.

He’s absolutely right, as you can see, they both banter but at the same time Tony opens up to Peter without hesitation.

trust

"So where are you?" I asked, looking around suspiciously. I half expected to see a drone In the sky spying on me. 

"India." came the response. "I thought I'd hit up a Hindu temple. Center myself. That sort of thing."

banter

 "Thank God this place has WI-Fi or you would have drowned."

 "I had a strategy." I did not have a strategy.

 'What, to die and fight him in the afterlife?"

Another example of them mirroring each other is in IW. It's been said in the novels that Tony making Peter an Avenger when did was something he considered a big choice and major sacrifice. He truly didn’t want him on the team, not because he thought Peter wasn’t capable, but because he wasn’t ready for Peter to be that. Meanwhile, Peter, who knows Tony is pretty much capable on his own, said he stuck himself to the side of the ship in IW because he thought about Tony. 

The same level of protectiveness, same thoughts.

Like a mirror.

.

Also how cute are Peter’s thoughts about Liz?

Liz walked by with the rest of the Homecoming committee, and the entire world seemed to melt away around her.

“It’s working for her.” I stared at her outfit and agreed that it was definitely working for her. OUR SPIDEY BOI IS FLIRTY AF

She was thinking of me. The warm fuzzies started.

Liz defending Peter from Flash?:

“I can’t believe we’re catering to him. We don’t need this dork.” Good. There was my opening to break it to them that—“As team captain, I disagree,” Liz cut in.

"No way!" he objected. "You can't just quit on us and then turn around and stroll up here and—"  "Flash. Liz cut him off, her voice leaving no doubt as to who the captain was.

Liz smiled at me as I took my seat. Don't blush. Don't blush. I blushed and gave a small smile back as I settled in next to Ned for the trip to Washington, DC.

And Peter’s eternal beef with Betty either sharing Ned or with Spider-Man. I love for this friendship lmao

[victorusolano]

FYD Series

It was one evening of summer. Anyone's skin can be steamed when exposed to the open air of the night. There, perched like a bird on his writing desk, contemplating seriously in a small dimly lit room was - Xenon. His family was all disturbed by the climate condition, so they went out of town to some nearby beach resorts. Xenon on his volition stayed alone, in which he likely enjoyed making love with the old typewriter resting in a great silence. He thought that this is what he needs to write a story tonight and the deadline of his paper is tomorrow before the sunset.

Two weeks ago, the writing task was assigned to him, by the chief editor of the literary magazine he is working with; and till this night it had remained untouched, and unmarked, though the time left was enough to say generously to finish one short story. However, catching up the race between him, and the ongoing moments is now useless. Words and meanings ran away and went to a place nowhere to be found. I should eat a dictionary, He murmured to himself. He took a glance at the old wall clock and looked away at the open window, stared blankly across the survey of height and to the dark space outside.

When he reconciled his thoughts; he gave a sweeping look at the old pictures of the family photos and old framed certificates of academic achievements of writing contests. He nailed his attention to a class picture of his college.

It was before the day of graduation; like a dreamy shot, his recollections swirled in a throwback changing a milieu; a trance to a memory. He can even smell the old odor of the room where he was in the picture: the blackboard with the doodle half-erased drawings of impish boyhood, girls prepping up in a rush as the bell rang when the class was announced dismissed. “Wait for me at the powder room, just need to fix this” the president of the class pointed at the board trying so hard to erase the drawings. “Come on here now Xenon!” The tall pale boy invited him to take his place for picture taking along the corridor. The boys, in a disorganized choreography, set themselves like a tableau; rowdy as they were. They were teasing, joking, thumping in harsh horseplay. “It's the last day!” Declared joyfully of one of the boys.

His consciousness lurched back into reality like a warp of time; he put his palm on his face. Now, he began carelessly to at least write something. The editor will kill him flat tomorrow; I need to finish at least one tonight.

He took a glance at the old wall clock which struck exactly twelve-thirty midnight. He returned to his writing desk, wiped out apple cores and peels, and decided to transcribe anything that comes first into his mind, a short story must be short and should have a story, he said to himself. But what story should I write? desperate he was, hope suddenly became absent; tomorrow I'm dead! Misfortune has taken its form now: all he accomplished about writing have flown away, he began to think that all structures of narratives are bogus, workshops and seminars he attended are all hoaxes. No formula could teach someone how to write. He then remembered a book called Under The…  What? It’s something ahm… He tried it with difficulty to remember. Suddenly, he remembered Tree - then he told himself, all writing may be divided into two groups, good writing, and bad writing; good books come out of good writing while bad writing produces failures, again and again, he scanned the line like an X-ray of that passage from a book which was a foreword by RK. A failure He exclaimed silently; not even of Montes’ Of Fish… and etcetera, What would I be writing about dogs or flies? Then he recalled Peter's Touch Move. I am no longer a kid! That conviction made him more worried there, he is now sure that a block along the streamlines of thoughts is hampering him to be productive and creative. No is now a strong resistance, to be Noel’s Games is something, and to finish a writing task today is a different thing. He remembered it all well; call me Tina or Fanny – No one calls me! He snorted.

It was almost three in the morning and no matter how hard he tried to have an idea and flood an ink in the paper, it just equated to frustration. A scrap of papers had been spilling off the bin and onto the floor, so he decided to take a walk outside for a while and jog. The objective of his motivation was like a plan, he thought that maybe he needed to activate an endorphin from his brain, in a matter of two minutes he got changed his clothes, he wore that unlaundered navy blue jersey shorts, he wore the other day; he paired it with a billowy old white cotton shirt, and put on his ash-colored rubber shoes which was a birthday gift, and went to the plaza.

He went on jogging around the track field. Quickly, it made him asphyxiated on the sixth round, but he decided to run two more and two rounds of walk to complete the set; good enough for an hour jog today he thought. Thirsty as he was, he wanted to look for water, so he went to an all-day convenience store to quench his dried throat. “Good morning!” a sweet greeting of the store staff, he smiled back and padded to the panel doors of chillers; grabbed a bottle of water, he opened it right away and in a spur-of-the-moment, he drank it all without thinking that he hadn't paid it yet; he remembered, so he went to the counter, and scanned the bottle, he grabbed some chips, and instant coffee, pay the total, and left.

At the park, He again tried to process what was going on with him. The situation of being a writer seemed to change from what he has believed for the past years; beginning from his aspiration to be a writer someday which now has been achieved. Now is a challenge against himself, am I just being lazy? He rebuked the thought hastily, laziness is a big word, he would like to think that he is more of a selective participant rather than being the word lazy… these thoughts wire loomed in his mind. He walked toward a wooden bench at the park but at that moment, an answer did not come; he decided to sit for a moment while looking at the cadastral and being engulfed by the tranquility. When suddenly an old man spoke, “What are you looking at?” the old man asked, breaking the silence. Astounded Xenon was; as he did not realize the presence of the old man sitting next to him at all before. Xenon tried to find a complete grasp of how it could happen?

“Nothing sir” he answered back at an instant without an inch of hesitation.

“Thinking?”

“No, sir”

“What exactly do you have in your mind and how would you like to describe it, before you sit here beside me?” The old man asked. “Well I am thinking of so many things, I am thinking of my article, a short story of some sort, it’s my deadline today, and I need to submit it this afternoon” Xenon responded as if caught in a corner with the question.

“Excuse me, sir - you've been here all the while?”

“Yes”

“I… did not see you’re here, I am sure of that!”

“Well I am exactly”

“Exactly? like how? I’m sorry sir!”

The old man gave him an artificial laugh before he uttered another word. “There so many things we trouble so much in this life – we don’t see now details of why we’re here or how did we get there, time runs too fast, we don’t see that - I like this place,” An eminent pause before Xenon was able to respond, “I'm sorry for the intrusion, sir!” What he wanted to mean in that is like a stop.

“Are you alone or waiting for someone? I'll just then look at another bench around.”

“No,” the old man said.

Without a second the old man said, “You can sit here, I don't own it anyway - I am the same, like you…” he turned a look to Xenon “I as well wanted to take a walk and free the mind of so many things.”  

Xenon did not believe the words, like the same he tried to process the thought, it cannot be possible for two people to do something the same or thinking completely parallel at the same point of time at exactitude, and meet. He’d like to dismiss the idea with a general conviction. “Yes, I am thinking if this is appropriate to have your autograph?” The old man said, Xenon wondered very oddly. The old man was very well informed, he thought as if he was under surveillance. “Hold on a second, sir - How did you know that...? I am… ahm” He can’t find the words again. “Writer?” The old man responded so very quickly to help him grasp the words. “Yes! You've already told me, I think no less than a minute before the whole sentence that I have calculated.” - “What?” He was surprised by the old man’s precision of thoughts. “You see now my friend, It seems that you're not paying much attention to the details, you’ve just told me that; this day is your deadline of a narrative to some sort that you needed to submit later this afternoon.” He repeated it like a backmasked vinyl recording to him.

He did not answer back and noticed something which he cannot sham his feeling. he thought it was talking to some kind of a prophet; an oracle, the old man gave him a creep but it was never of fear he felt that time, when the old man said, you're not paying much attention to the details: and it provided him a connection, an impulse releasing the secret of his lingering dilemma. It seemed that the old man had known him before and was reading his mind in silence. And before he could say another word, the old man got on to his feet and walked slowly in the distance. “Where are you going, sir? I thought you wanted my autograph?” He replied instantly. “I was about to do that” he slipped his hand on the pocket of his shirt and brought out a pen. The man moved close to him and said, “maybe after you finish the story you are about to submit today – I want surprises, I love that. It sounded more of a challenge to him. “I'll just wait for it once it’s out,” the old man continued, “I'm expecting that one will be good too, like the others.” Xenon felt being seized. Then in no time delay, he asked, “Sir, may I know your name please” The old man looked away and replied with a serious note. “I never had one.”

“I grew up in a home,” the old man continued, Xenon did not understand what he meant by the word home.

“I never knew who my parents are”

“You mean you're an orphan, sir?”

He sounded that question as an inquiry, not a statement or a report; he could not completely believe when the old man said, never had one. He assumed, while the slightest of what he can accept, that someone in his infancy had given him any name at least any among the common names, like Peter or Jeff.  

“Yes, may I?” The old man was demonstrating to take a seat, he snatched the opportunity, and released a deep sigh before Xenon could make his reply.

“Yes! Surely, sir”

“I would like to tell you a story – may I?” Without averseness he agreed — this is what precisely he doesn’t have at this very moment — He felt a pity to himself that the old man at least has something to tell a story. He thought resentfully. “Now, what is your nearest happy memory? – something that may be a remarkable one?” The old man asked. “Well, I can still remember my days when I was in college, you know a scholar of some sort, a nerdy bookworm student and sometimes nasty. I enjoyed the friends and their all varieties of personal attitude, the mentorship and all; that experience gave me a feeling of a second home too,” he ended his recollection with a ruminating smile.

The old man started after his last word and said, “home Oh yes! I grew up in a home too, you know. But it was different, — there are all sorts of people from all diversities you know? minor age killers, thieves, abandoned children, and those who escape from their hostile relatives and parents — there is one thing that is common among all of us resident mates. We are all looking for someone who could give us genuine love; so to every opportunity of adoption; though we don’t want to go away from home, we grab it in hope for a foster parent. On the contrary, after a week or so; most of us go back and never want to go out. The result rather turned worse, trust became more absent.”

“That must be interesting – go on please” Xenon eagerly butt in. “We didn’t have a good foundation of education there.” Xenon in his skeptics let the old man claim his privilege of a good start of his story, “though a mother staff is there to attend the everyday needs of the operation of a foster home, there is always a lacking that only a real parent could provide the never-ending emptiness lingers every day. When you were being born and grew up in a home you’ll never find a name in your birth identity, the space in the paper reads either baby boy or baby girl, or at least a consolation part is you have your last name written on your birth certificate, then at your legal age, you will then be advised and go on a series of counseling to condition your mind that you are now ready to be set free and join the outside world. On the other meaning, you will now look for your own. All years of staying there, all favors of your daily needs are all in the form of a plea and request, it’s like a nauseated chick being asked to walk or run.” Xenon, unconsciously now conceded and pondering deep to the part brimming inside him, the visual in his mind provided a still picture that speaks a thousand and more ideas to write.

He felt like hanging on a cliff and wanting more. “Go on, please!” He said. “Very well,” the old man continued. “Overwhelmed you are now huh? - There was an incident that night when everybody was all sleeping in our respective quarters; the boy’s place was on the east of a pavilion near the high walls while the girls’ was just near the lobby entrance. I never got an interest of why is that because I never asked, I am always like that timid among other orphans, I was very young then, not even that I know what an introvert means but I enjoyed my solitude; they often think that I am weird, but I have my way of covering, a defense mechanism, mostly I pretend; which always sets me in a situation turned more difficult at the end. It was an unforgettable experience that everybody there will never forget. A fire, a huge one that killed one group of orphans in quarter D at the corner pavilion, maybe fifteen or twenty souls in there burnt alive.” Xenon’s shoulders twitched at the mention of being burnt alive! But he remained silent, leaving the old man to continue.

“How did it all happen, sir?” he went on curiously. “I expected that would be your most obvious next question” As the old man continued - “The mother staff on duty that night left the door locked and she brought the keys with her and stride past for a moment to meet someone outside, but she never calculated it right that a kettle in the kitchen was also left on a stove, she enjoyed the romantic rendezvous with the guy she has been seeing for the past weeks, the next series of event happened so fast as the fire spread all the rest of the quarters, I happened to escape quickly and help the young ones to get out, well I would like to say thank you for my insomniac.” The old man paused there for a while. “Investigations went on afterward but of course, the subject of the incident died just like that; an isolated one. But the tremor lives like a resurrection and even to this moment whenever I recall the experience I can still feel the trauma.”

His feelings were automatically snatched. “Pitiful souls,” Xenon added, “true, indeed!” The old man replied. “Well just like other closed call stories, the ending was still unknown and then life just went on, I finally said goodbye to the orphanage and faced a life of my own.” The old man got up on his feet and walked away slowly. “Where are you going, sir?” xenon asked. “Home,” the word gave him a sensation like a blank white paper inked with lots of things and images of a scene scribbled in no exact direction; he imagined an abstract picture that was difficult to understand from that story.

Unexpectedly, it gave him a feeling of freedom. A unit of work that he is required to finish a story from that conversation. And the task is waiting for him now at home. “Sir, could I just at least have your name?” The sun had shone its glimpse in the sky. The illumination gave a picture of cucoloris lighting patterns of shadows of the old man’s face, like a mirror from afar. “Could you please tell me your name?” Xenon asked garishly. The old man stopped, and said, “You should fix the ending.” He tried to catch the sounds from afar. “Will you?” The picture of him was already filtered out of the blinding lights.

THE END

This is a work of FICTION. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. 

Copyright Statement This work is the intellectual property of the author. Permission is granted for this material to be shared for non-commercial, educational purposes, provided that this copyright statement appears on the reproduced material. To disseminate otherwise or to republish requires written from the author.

[dumbwaystodeviate]

Hello, I was wondering if you could wright someting were Nines Deviates cus Kamski is Gavins older brother and he just can't compute that info?

Sometimes cases went a bit sideways, chases go bad with someone falling off of something and other times officers run into a fire fight. The number of times humans and androids alike got themselves hurt was a number no one would ever admit to, one everyone hoped wasn’t being tracked. It wasn’t that they were bad, shit just happens.

However today seemed to be the day they were going to break in Nines. A chase though the crowded streets of downtown taking a few more detours though cramped alleys than Nines or Gavin would like, the android being the only one that could keep up. It’s not to say the RK couldn’t catch the man, because that was easier done than said, it’s just he hadn’t expected to end up with his leg so damaged he couldn’t even stand on it.

When Gavin had found him he had simply used the suspect as a seat to make sure he wasn’t going to get away, getting a laugh out of the Detective.

“Well shit, look at that~ Looks like you are finally a official cop!” Gavin pulled one of the RK’s arms over his shoulder, despite being shorter he did make for a good prop to keep him upright. Thankfully Tina was there to pick up the downed man.

Nines was well aware of the joke about about officers getting hurt, not being a real one until it happens because of how common it was. The android wondered if they all hurt their heads too.

“You are phucking heavy... Come on, we’ll get you fixed up.” The man was getting better about the whole android thing, and for that Nines was thankful, but this time he had to turn him down.

“I’m sorry, detective, but that won’t be necessary. Due to my unique model they will be unable to repair the damages. Both for a lack of blueprint and correct parts.” It was a sad little fact he had learned not long after joining the DPD, in fact even Connor had tried to talk him out of the job because of this. But it’s what he was made for.

Strangely, unlike Connor the detective didn’t seem too put off by this, if only a little annoyed. “Are you kidding me? Crap... Look just... Chill, I got this ok?”

Nines nodded, even if he had no clue how the man could help. Gavin wasn’t a android mechanic, at least he didn’t think he was, so what could he have up his sleeve?

He watched Gavin make a call to Fowler about not being back today, something that made Nines’ processors itch. But he understood it needed to be done, what he didn’t get was why when Gavin got back to the car, the man drove them back to his own place. Especially when it was such a slog for the human to help the android all the way up the stairs just to get in, the man grunting the whole way just to set him on the couch.

“Ok just... wait there.” Not that Nines had a choice as he watched him stalk off to the kitchen, phone in hand.

He didn’t listen in on Gavin’s call, because that would be rude, but he could hear some of the snide little remarks he often made with people he knew. With so few friends, or at least good friends, Nines couldn’t even begin to fathom who he could be talking with that could help.

When Gavin came back to the room he sat down by the android. “Called my older brother, he’s got parts and shit he can work with.”

An older brother? The RK’s led flashed yellow as he took in the information, he couldn’t find any info on the man having a brother at all though. Wouldn’t it show up on his records? He would ask the man himself but he didn’t think it would be a good idea to pry, Reed really seemed to dislike it when he did that.

Nines got the answer to his question not too long later, and honestly it only raised more questions. More questions and a hell of a lot of errors when Gavin answered the door to let in none other than Kamski himself, who looked far more pleased than he would have thought he might be after getting called all the way here.

“Glad to see you are starting to warm up to androids, Gav~ here I was thinking you would be grouchy forever.” Nines could barely hear him over the buzzing of his processors just trying to understand why the man was here.

“Oh fuck off, so many this one’s different. Fight me.” Again, it was the same friendly tone despite his words. 

While Kamski set up on the coffee table and looked over his leg, Nines was able to get a good look at the man. Taking a whole facial scan he ran it against Gavin’s, more errors pinging as more proof came in that yes, these two were in fact brothers. The former android hating raccoon he called a partner was brothers with the android’s creator. It would be some kind of hilarious if not for Nines trying to get the red colored screen from his vision.

He had to ask, he knew it wasn’t appropriate to pry but he just had to, despite the warnings flashing in red. To hell with that though, how often do you find something like THIS out? So he swiped it from his sight, a annoying fly to the curious android, before the surprise and confusion hit him head on. It must have shown because he could hear Kamski snicker.

“Your brother is Elijah Kamski?” He balked at the duo, especially Gavin who just shrugged.

“Yeah? What of it? Just don’t like blurting it out, do that and i’m going to get harassed as well.”

Nines really didn’t want another partner, and if anyone knew about Gavin he would have to leave just to avoid being bothered at work. He supposed he could keep this quiet. Except for Connor and Hank, he couldn’t keep anything from them.

[fight-for-humanity]

Hunger

[cw: violence, swearing]

A dim glow of the street lamps illuminated the quiet town of Redacre. From this sight alone, one might make the assumption that it was a normal, peaceful town, where families gathered around the dinner table each evening to have a meal together and spend time in each other’s company, or where kids would go to school to meet up with their friends to laugh, joke, and talk about the most recent gossip or who they were going to junior prom with. But, I knew better. We all did. Dinner tables were often empty. Families were too tired to spend time together, either because they never slept or they dug down in the labyrinth hidden underneath the town all night. Innocent teen gossip was replaced by the somber air surrounding the discussion of who went missing the previous night.

And then there were kids like me, sorry bastards who were fortunate enough to hear Voices in our heads and wake up in the middle of the night in odd places where we didn’t initially close our eyes. I was a member of the esteemed Blackout Club who sought to disrupt the nightly operations of one of these mystifying Voices, often at the expense of a good night’s rest. Fortunately for me, it was the last objective of the night. Upon its completion, I would be able to head back to the boxcar for a quick nap before sneaking back home. Some nights, I had a group to keep me company, but not this night. Schedules clash and accidents happen, especially with the risky work we’re doing. I zipped up my black hoodie to stave off the cold Virginia air. I wanted to get this mission done as soon as possible.

Bzzzzzz.

I froze suddenly, then grimaced. Damn phone. I wish I could just turn it off during missions, but HQ insists we leave our phones on so they can track our progress and send us updates while we’re “out in the field”. Admittedly, it provides some insurance, in the odd case we get suppressed and need to be saved in the morning. Still, I can’t help but jump out of my shoes everytime it buzzes in my pocket. With a sigh, I retrieved the damn thing and looked at the message. 

Your Stalker: “Behind you.”

A gasp escaped my lips. My blood ran cold at the sight of the text message. Reflexively, I twisted my head around to see a familiar face, one I hoped I wouldn’t see again. Aaron Costa, leaning against a tree and looking directly at me. A black bandana covered the lower half of his face, and he wore a signature white and red jacket. The last time I saw him, he tried to drag me to the red door, force me to live in an eternal slumber, listening to the same old song forever. He tried to make me a walking puppet for the Voice that was deemed worse than the others.

“Please. Don’t freak out,” he hushed before I could say anything, his hands raised half way in an attempt to appear unthreatening. It was a decent attempt, but at his height, he mostly towered over me. He’d be a threat to the average person. Still, for as much of a threat that he was, my eyes couldn’t help but wander to the scar down the side of his face. It was the battle wound I gave him when I managed to get away from him on that fateful night. 

I took a step back. “What the hell do you want?” I hissed, teeth bared. I glanced left and right to look for possible escape routes. I might be able to outrun him. I knew for damn sure I could out maneuver him. The Club’s training made sure we could escape an enemy bigger than ourselves.

“I need your help, RK,” Aaron pleaded, pulling down his bandana and taking a step forward. In response, I took a couple steps back. If he gets within arm’s reach of me again, it’s game over. I’ll be at the red door before I know it, and I have no spare drone part to save me this time. He froze, noticing that I was putting space between us. “I’m…” he stammered. It was odd to see him flustered. He always had this air of calm around him, but I guess that’s just who I thought he was. It was just a ruse to get close to me, so he could convert me to his weird religion. 

“I’m sorry about what I did. What I said about your brother was insensitive,” he continued. “I was just…” he paused, searching for words. “I didn’t expect you to respond like that. I thought I could show you how that club lies about us, how destructive they are, how much better it would be with us. I failed, so I felt like... it was the only way to keep you as my friend. It was desperate and stupid.” There was a certain honesty behind those brown eyes, imploring me to listen. I was such a sucker for sob stories, but the voice of reason in my head was too strong. I knew we could never be friends like we once were.

“Well, what the hell did you expect to happen?” I growled, tightly crossing my arms in front of my chest. “You chose your Voice over me, a person! A human being!” Aaron didn’t respond, his gaze sinking to the ground. Did he want to argue about it, but was holding his tongue? I wasn't sure. In a different town, with no Voices, we would have been friends. I couldn’t help but wonder how my other relationships would be different if the looming threat of Voices didn’t hang over everyone. 

Here, in Redacre, I wasn’t afforded that opportunity. I always had to remember the grasp the Voices had on everyone, how much people tried to fill in missing puzzle pieces with them, to dull the emptiness and pain that was so common to the human condition. I had to remember what people were willing to do for the Voices. I could never forget. My honest friendship could never compete with a millennia of manipulation techniques. I’m not good enough. I would be thrown to the wolves easily, just like before.

After a moment of silence between us, my curiosity got the best of me. With a sigh, I asked, “What do you need help with? I’m not doing any stupid Chorus things.”

The tension in Aaron’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a breath. “No. It’s nothing like that,” he explained. “We are...being hunted. By the Beast."

"The Beast?" I asked.

"The Hunter," he clarified. "Some of us have gone missing, and I know you have been making notes." 

I arched a brow. "How do you know that?"

"Kids talk at school," he answered. "Please, RK. I don't want more people getting hurt. I just need more information so I can help protect them."

"You mean protect more Stalkers like you?" I gave him a skeptical look and planted my hands on my hips.

"No matter what you call them, they are still people," he responded with a frown.

I paused. Dammit, Aaron. He was right, in his own twisted sense. The thought of more people forced under the Hunter's sway hit a particularly sensitive nerve.

With a soft sigh, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a flipbook. With reluctance in my tone, I held it out to him and said, “Here. These are the more recent field notes.” 

Aaron reached out and took it, his eyes scanning the little pages as he flipped through them. “The Hunter is experimenting on people?” he asked.

“With these weird tablets, yeah,” I answered with a nod.

“And these curses…” He murmured, his face scrunching in confusion. He flipped the notebook around and pointed at a poorly drawn doodle of a person with sharp, gnashing teeth. “What does this mean?”

I couldn’t help but snerk at my own artistic talent. “That’s, uh, one of the curses.” That answer didn’t seem to work for Aaron. He still looked helplessly confused, and a little concerned. “It’s called the Hunter’s Hunger. It gives you, like… these cravings, where you just want to, like, bite someone. It’s like mental torture if you try to resist it.”

He frowned and flipped to a new page, taking a moment to study before looking back to me. “Can I keep some of these pages?”

“Yeah, whatever. The curses and stuff are the last four pages,” I said grudgingly. Aaron gave me a grateful smile as he ripped the pages out and handed the flipbook back to me. “Do you really not know anything about what’s going on with the Hunter? Are your people not told anything?”

Aaron’s lips pursed. “Anything we’re not told is to protect us and keep us safe. I trust them.” I let out a sigh at his response. Clearly, they weren’t being kept safe if Stalkers were disappearing, but he had such blind devotion that he’d be willing to sweep anything under the rug. Is that how they all are? Every kid who has an attachment to a Voice? Voices become so infallible that they can do nothing wrong?

“Hello? Someone there?”

Aaron and I both froze as a foreign baritone broke the silence of the night’s gentle ambience. The voice didn’t sound familiar, and judging by Aaron’s reaction, it wasn’t a Lucid or anyone he knew either. It definitely didn’t have that Lucid masked-sound to its tone.

“Come on. I knew I heard ya. Come out, come out,” the voice cooed. 

“Who is-” I began to whisper, but Aaron halted me with a soft shush, his finger pressed against his lips. He turned around and slowly stepped towards the nearby house, pressing his back against the wall. I followed him as he peeked around the corner in order to take a look at the strange fellow for myself, but Aaron stuck out his arm to block me before I could go further. He turned his head and gave me a look of concern. I shot him a nasty look. Aaron really needs to do something about his annoying “save everyone” superhero attitude. With an annoyed sigh, I grabbed his wrist and pushed it down and out of my way. He didn’t try to hold me back again, but from the corner of my eye, I could see his shoulders sulk.

A man that appeared to be in his early twenties walked down the street, looking under cars and behind corners for us. He wore torn up jeans and a loose black t-shirt. I looked a little closer and it looked like a rock band shirt with a colorful, abstract logo, but it wasn’t any band that I knew of. His shoulder-length dirty blond hair was pushed behind both of his ears.

“Greyson Burke,” Aaron whispered, his brows arched in surprise.

“You know him?” I looked up at him with a curious look.

“He was a senior at Central High when I was a freshman,” Aaron answered, his eyes still trained on Greyson. “After graduation, his band started playing at one of the local bars, but they stopped a few months ago. I thought their band split up, or something.”

Greyson was getting closer. I could see a wicked grin stretched across his face, his crazed green eyes still searching for the source of the voices he heard. A few more moments, and he would be upon us.

Aaron turned his body to me. “I’ll distract him. You go home, RK,” he told me. Sounds like a plan. Didn’t have to tell me twice. I was sure Aaron would be fine. He can handle himself. I gave him a nod as he stepped out of our hiding place out onto the street towards Greyson. I turned the other way and started sneaking back to the privacy fence, but I stopped. Curiosity got the better of me. I retracted my steps and peaked around the corner to watch the exchange.

“There you are. I knew I heard someone,” Greyson said with a sick grin. There was something off about his body language. The way he curled his fingers and dug his nails into the side of his pants. The way he would occasionally gnaw at his lower lip, and how he breathed through a partly open mouth. He wasn’t well. There was something wrong with him. He looked… hungry.

“What are you doing here, Greyson?” Aaron answered, his voice tense.

Greyson gave a nonchalant shrug, his tongue darting out of his mouth to wetten his lips. “I was just in the neighborhood. Thought I’d take a stroll, and look for a dance partner, y’know?” He took a step forward, approaching Aaron. “Is that… Is that you, Aaron? Aaron Costa?” He craned his neck forward, squinting his eyes to get a better look. “Damn, boy. You’ve gotten tall!” He threw his head back and laughed, hand holding his stomach. Recomposing himself, he wiped his eye with the back of his hand and took another step forward. “Have you been working out? You look strong. I bet you would make an excellent dance partner.” Aaron stood his ground, not responding as Greyson studied him. When his green eyes landed on the side of Aaron’s face, his grin grew wider. “Nice scar. Want a matching one on the other side?” 

“Why don’t you just go home?” Aaron said, eyes narrowing. You wouldn’t think he was nervous by the tone of his voice, but I could tell he was by how he gently fidgeted with the corner of his jacket between his fingers.

Greyson released a piercing laugh. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to dance?”

“Are you really looking for a fight you can’t win?” Aaron responded with an incredulous look. He had a point. Greyson was a bit gangly, compared to Aaron. Plus, Aaron had height on him. You could easily make the initial impression that Aaron would overpower Greyson in a fight.

“Oh, no. No, no, no. I don’t know about that,” Greyson said with a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair before shoving both hands into his pockets. “You might be a big bastard. But... I don’t play fair.” In a swift motion, Greyson pulled his hands out of his pockets and lunged at Aaron, his hand gripping a pocket knife. My eyes widened as I caught sight of the weapon, a breath catching in my throat. Aaron had a similar reaction and reacted quickly by grabbing Greyson’s wrist. I heard a growl from Greyson’s throat. “Come on, Aaron. Just a little bite!”

I stood paralyzed as the two struggled with each other. Aaron would still be fine, right? Of course he would win. Anxious thoughts continued to run through my head as the battle waged. Greyson was stronger than he appeared, and Aaron was wearing down. Block after block, dodge after dodge. The pocketknife caught his heavy, white jacket a couple times, ripping into the material that was fortunately thick enough to protect his skin. Maybe Chorus does care after all. Aaron couldn’t manage to get a hold on him to subdue him, and every punch he landed didn’t seem to phase his attacker. There was something unseen fueling him, some hunger.

Greyson shoved Aaron back against a sedan, his body slamming against the metal with a reverberating bang. Aaron grimaced and momentarily lost his footing, but caught himself by grabbing the trunk of the car. “Gah...Shit...” Wow. Aaron actually swears. It would have been funny if this was not a life or death situation. I had seen enough. Panic was settling in, and if I did not do something, Aaron would just turn in to another missing Stalker. I stepped out of my hiding spot and made a bee-line towards them both.

“This was fun. Sorry it’s over already,” Greyson taunted. He reversed the grip on the pocketknife and moved in. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, my feet pounding against the pavement. With a battle yell, I barreled into Greyson, catching him by surprise and knocking us both to the ground. The pocketknife clattered against the concrete out of his reach.

I winced as I fell and twisted my head around to where Greyson landed. On his hands and knees, he shook his head, hair draping over his face. He slowly turned towards me. “RK...RK....RK… There you are. Did you want to play too?” he growled as he stood, his face splitting into a wide smile. I hoped I bought Aaron enough time to recover.

I scrambled to my feet, but before Greyson could change his target, Aaron moved behind him and slipped his arms underneath his armpits, locking his hands behind his neck. Greyson struggled to free himself from the hold, his arms flailing in the air. Aaron twisted his body and threw Greyson against the car, his head smacking into the window and shattering the glass. Greyson fell limp to the pavement, shards falling around him.

I flinched at the sight, but I was distracted by Aaron’s urgent plea. “Leave him.” Together, we ran off away from the street and houses, the blaring car alarm becoming more and more distant the farther we ran. Soon, we were surrounded by trees, only the soft glow of Redacre’s lights visible over the dense foliage.

“I told you to go home,” Aaron said after twisting around to face me. He was in bad shape and struggled to catch his breath.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot, Aaron. You’d be dead if I did,” I retorted, looking at him defiantly.

Guilt flashed across his expression, but he managed a soft smile and held out his hand, extending it towards me. “Thank you for having my back. I hope we can be friends again,” he said to me.

I looked at his hand, lips pursed into a frown. A long moment passed between us before I turned my body. “Be careful on your way home, Aaron,” I gave him those parting words, pulling my hoodie over my head as I walked away.

Never again.

[tristinai]

WIP Meme

Tagged by the awesome @mordinette to share some of what I have been working on. Not sure yet if I will do anything with this, tbh. This is a Reed900 fic I have been writing. Takes place October 7th, 2040. After my other fic Russian Roulette. Enjoy :)

Gavin frowns as he scrutinizes his appearance in the bathroom mirror for what feels like the fiftieth time in as many minutes. He gingerly brushes his fingertips against the bit of silver that’s dotting his hairline. Thirty-eight fucking years old. If he’s honest with himself, he’s half-surprised he’s made it this long.

“Don’t see why the fuck we have to go to some uptight, snooty restaurant. Coulda picked any old bar, woulda been just as good, babe,” Gavin grumbles.

In truth, he’s not at all looking forward to spending a night of drinking overpriced champagne and ordering off a menu where he can’t pronounce half the shit on it. If he had it his way, they’d be drinking beers at Finnegan’s with Miller and Chen or spending the night in watching some of the classics. However, with the way things have been between him and Nines lately, he doesn’t want to complain too much, lest he hurt his boyfriend’s feelings.

Nines appears behind him and Gavin catches his boyfriend’s gaze in the mirror. All his displeasure melts away as he sees what the ex-gangster is wearing: the dark suit vest fits snugly on his chest, outlining his pectorals. His powder-blue tie makes his gray eyes look brighter behind his thick glasses and Gavin can already feel the stirrings of desire pool in his abdomen.

Huffing in amusement, Nines forces Gavin to turn around, leans in close enough that the detective catches his familiar cologne, and begins to fix Gavin’s messy tie. “Tonight is a night worth celebrating. I was unable to be with you last year. I want tonight to be...special.”

Nines’ lips pull in a tiny frown and Gavin also feels discomfort at the reminder of how things were between them the year before. He remembers being completely miserable that night, going on month two of life after Nines, and getting completed wasted at a nearby gay bar with Tina. At some point, he ditched her to get his cock sucked by someone whose name he can’t remember and Tina lost her shit on him the next day since she spent the rest of the night trying to find out where the hell he was. He can’t even be sure if he felt shittier about hooking up or for bailing on her but he had to spend the next month getting his best-friend-cred back.

Feeling guilty once again, Gavin forces a grin on his face. “This why you got me all dressed up to the ‘nines’?”

Nines smirks. “I like to think of it as, ‘taking out the trash’.”

“Ouch, babe.”

Pressing in close, Nines grasps Gavin by the hip, noses along the edge of his jaw. The detective’s breath hitches and he can’t help it, is craving more of the ex-gangster’s touch. His pulse racing, he slides a hand up the back of Nines’ neck, exhales shakily when his boyfriend’s lips ghost against his. But the god damn tease doesn’t even try to kiss him, chuckles as he gets Gavin worked up.

“If you are attempting to unwrap your ‘gift’ before we make it out of the penthouse, you will be sorely disappointed,” he says, pulling back when Gavin tries to press their lips together.

Gavin makes a face, tries to tug Nines back closer so he can finally steal that fucking kiss. “C’mon, babe. It’s my god damn birthday! Doesn’t that mean you’re my slave for a day or some shit like that?”

“Is that what you want?” Nines asks, bemused.

“Fucking right it is.”

Nines disentangles himself from Gavin’s embrace. And he laughs. A loud, throaty laugh. Gavin glares at him.

“It is rather endearing that you think in a slave/master role play, I would be the slave.”

“No, not—it’s just a thing people do! Like, you need to be nice to me and shit. And we do whatever the fuck I want because...you know, it’s my birthday.”

“We do whatever it is you want every day,” Nines points out.

No, Gavin thinks, with a hint of bitterness. We actually don’t.

It’s been going on for some time now, this growing rift between them. Gavin can’t pinpoint the moment it started but he recently began to notice that Nines is around a lot less. Random lunch breaks where his boyfriend pops in occur less and less frequently and most days of the week, Gavin’s already snoring away in their bed when Nines finally crawls in beside him. Nines is usually gone before Gavin wakes up and Gavin’s lucky if he gets to spend any part of his evening, or his days off, with the ex-gangster. He doesn’t want to complain, though, because this was the exact reason many of his exes had left him or cheated on him back when he was in his 20s and Gavin doesn’t want to be that kind of asshole who tells his boyfriend to choose between him and his job.

Still...why in the fuck does Nines even give a shit about Cyberlife? After Chloe fucked with both of them, he’d think Nines would want little to do with the company when he can help it. Then again, maybe it’s because of his upgrades that Chloe’s got him by the balls and makes him attend all those press releases and conference calls with her.

When it comes to sex, well, that’s still happening. And it’s still fucking fantastic. But Gavin selfishly wishes he can have more of Nines to himself.

Nines seems to notice the mood Gavin’s slipped into and gently takes him by the hand. “I know I have not been around as much lately. However, after tonight, I hope you will see how serious I am about us, darling.”

Gavin’s gaze drops to where his hand sits in Nines’, the ring we wears glowing yellow. He then stares up at his boyfriend, mystified by what he could possibly mean.

Nines’ phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket. “The driver is here.”

“We’re not taking your Aston Martin?”

Damn. Gavin was hoping Nines would let him drive it again, at least before he spends the night tossing back champagne.

“We both intend on drinking tonight so I have made use of company resources.”

“Chloe let you have the limo? You’re really going all out.”

He lets Nines tug him out of the bathroom, his boyfriend lacing their fingers together as he leads them to the elevator. Socks is running across the floor and weaves through Nines’ legs as he chases after a ball he’s flicking around, the bell on his collar chiming. The cyborg makes a face.

“Now I have cat hair on my pants.”

He begins to reach for the lint roller on the stand near the elevator.

“No time, babe.”

Gavin pulls his boyfriend inside with him. Nines attempts to leave but the detective won’t let him. “Gav—”

He kisses him heatedly,  Nines’ protests dying against his lips. Almost immediately, his boyfriend is responding, parting his lips to allow Gavin to slide their tongues together. It’s wet, wanton, and completely filthy and has the detective so hard by the time the elevator reaches the first floor, he has to bite back a whine to go back upstairs and finish what they started.

“We will be late for our reservation,” Nines says, a splash of color on his cheeks. He adjusts himself, even has to take off his fogged up glasses and wipe off the lenses. He’s using his Niles voice now, sounds all him prim and proper. “Come, darling.”

Gavin smirks to himself. He loves mussing up Nines’ hair, doing anything to bring some of his chaos to the cyborg’s perfectly put together appearance. Nines’ vanity is something that hasn’t changed; if anything, with the new, gorgeous face he wears, has the ex-gangster constantly preening since any time he steps out, he might be called in for impromptu press releases or meetings with potential Cyberlife investors.

Gavin’s really gonna have to talk to Chloe about cutting his boyfriend some fucking slack. Not that she would even take his calls. But it’s fucking ridiculous that even tonight, after being assured multiple times Nines has the night off, Gavin still feels anxious that Nines might be called away in the middle of their dinner.

He buries that uncomfortable feeling as they step outside. At least the weather’s nice, with only the hint of a breeze. A white limo sits outside the condominium entrance.

“Good evening, Mr. Deckert!”

“Ralph...” The ex-gangster starts, his tone highly critical. As Ralph practically falls out of the driver’s seat, his hat askew, Nines’ eyes narrow. “Do I want to ask how you ended up in such a state?”

Ralph grins widely, straightens up, and bounces on the balls of his feet. Pieces of colorful confetti stick to his hair and clothing, and streamers curl around his arms and legs as if the poor kid lost an epic fight against a pile of decorations. But it does little to dampen the kid’s mood. If anything, he seems more excitable than usual. “It’s the detective’s birthday! So Ralph helped!”

He all but throws open the door of the limo, smiling from ear-to-ear as Gavin and Nines peer inside. Colorful streamers, confetti, and balloons are strewn haphazardly across the floor and seats in an uncoordinated disaster, an uneven garland that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY already half falling where it is suspended from the roof. The disapproval has Nines glaring incredulously at Ralph, who still looks far too pleased with himself.

“Ralph...”

Gavin hears the dangerous edge in his boyfriend’s voice and knows the ex-gangster is two seconds away from losing his shit on his ‘personal assistant’.

“It’s fucking great!” Gavin says, clapping Ralph’s shoulder enthusiastically. “Best fucking gift I got all day!”

Ralph’s eyes widen and he swears the kid’s almost having a heart attack from receiving such praise. It’s all the warning Gavin has before Ralph’s throwing his arms around the detective and hugging him tightly. Gavin grunts because damn, the kid’s got quite the grip, but then he’s awkwardly hugging Ralph back.

“Ralph knew the detective would like it!”

With an irate sigh, Nines says, “We have a reservation, Ralph.”

Pulling back, Ralph makes a face. Something strikes Gavin very odd about the expression he wears. “Ralph liked RK better before the change.”

...what the fuck does that mean?

Nines’ face is unreadable and Gavin can’t explain it but there’s something almost unsettling about the way the two stare at each other. Then, the ex-gangster’s lips curl in a sneer and he says, with quiet admonishment, “Ralph, you know we do not talk of Cyberlife affairs outside of Cyberlife.”

Ralph looks as if he has more that he wants to say but instead, the kid falls into a quiet anger, shutting the door behind Gavin as he gets in after Nines. Nines makes a show of swiping off confetti from his seat before he settles stiffly onto the leather.

“What the hell was that about?” Gavin asks.

“Ralph is still upset that Chloe had to shut RK down,” Nines says, nonchalantly. “He was strangely attached to that machine.”

His gut is telling him that there’s more to it than that but Gavin notes the way Nines’ hands curl into fists on his lap. Whatever Ralph meant, it’s enough that all the warning signs are there for an argument and it’s one that Gavin’s in no mood to get into, especially when he really doesn’t give a shit about some creepy ass robot. The less of them in the world, the better.

[01010010-posts]

— am I your future?

request: Okay but pls imagine the rk's meeting an ex-boyfriend of readers... Like theyre home alone for the day and a stranger comes up to the door and theyre like "whomst the fuck" and then he reveals he's readers ex and he wants to talk with them. Imagine these jealous nervous bois freaking the fuck out because AHHH READER USED TO BE IN LOVE WITH THIS OTHER GUY AND HOW HE'S H E R E... And like what if theyd heard of this ex and knew he was bad news (im sorry im a hoe for protective/jealous rks...)

is this ok?? you wanted jealous type & bad ex baby?? did i do this right??

Connor:

• “come on, ordering dessert too?” he giggles, drawing soothing circles on your back, his pupils dawdling with a dreamy gaze on your features, raptured in your love, basking in that soft tug of your mouth • you laugh, rolling your eyes “yes, dessert too” and then you mutter “since someone’s always eager to burn some calories with me” • he bites his lips, blushing a bit blue on the tip of his nose “that’s not fair at all, it’s your fault for being so cute” • “ahh now it’s my fault” you continue, his palms exploring your skin, lowering until they get in contact with your bottom • “yes, [name], it’s your fault” he murmurs near your lobe, teasing you to no end • well, no, there is an end • an end with a very distinct name and surname • “get a room, you two!” the shout of your ex between the chatter of your friends • ugh • your boyfriend goes rigid, a nervous titter, slightly embarrassed, touch lingering but devoid of the same warmth as before • perfect! just perfect! you think, you were busy having a moment but nooo of course they’re gonna ruin it • it was awkward enough when you got invited to this dinner without being told your ex was there too • but you didn’t imagine it would be this bad • don’t worry, as things can and will get worse • in fact, watch!, your last partner is slowly snaking their way to both of you, a sly grin on the face and two bottles of beer • they sit next to your precious robot, offering him to drink together, he politely refuses • “can’t taste? a shame!” that stupid no-good begins a wishy-washy speech, obviously tipsy, trying to get a reaction, probably wanting a fight • they do strike a nerve with you tho and you start tapping your nails on the marble table • he notices, analyzing you from the corner of his lashes, his chords humming off and on, not paying attention • he tries, i swear, he tries resisting and being his usual collected self • but seeing you like this? fed up? distressed? casually checking your phone while he’s stuck listening such endless ramblings   • “um, sorry” he excuses himself, suddenly whisking you away from the room, hiding with you in the restroom • “what– what are you doing?” breath hitching you find yourself against the wall, trapped by his body pressed onto yours • “if your ex keeps talking I’m surely going to have a short circuit” • you snort, not expecting him to be so brash but welcoming his behaviour with a gentle cupping of his jaw • “besides” he kisses you “I was” another kiss “getting” kiss “kinda” again, a kiss “jealous” 

RK900:

• he’s been waiting for the whole week, finally, a day where you two can be alone, rest, cuddle, simply indulge in each other • he’s super happy about it, he can’t stop kissing you while you’re both playing some boring board game • i mean, it’s not boring since you know, he’s a super clever AI, he can switch on your competitive side in every match • the bell?? he looks in your eyes and you in his • “are we expecting someone?” he questions and you nod in disagreement • “I’ll go get the door” he plants a tiny peck on your forehead and leaves the couch • but as soon as you hear the voice of the person behind the (now open) door your blood freezes • “baby? it’s for you” his tone is neutral but he doesn’t move, effectively blocking the entrance • you reluctantly join him on the threshold and stare at your ex • “what do you want?” you lean onto your lover, a deadly mix of fear, bad memories and utter annoyance clouds your mind • but he’s not stupid, he picks it up the moment you speak, already angry at the fact that his afternoon was ruined by some random scum • actually, not random, that’s what makes him livid • it’s your fucking ex, you had feelings, you had sex, you had a relationship • all things that you have with him now • to say he’s jealous would be terribly kind • he’s almost denting the door jamb his hand is resting on • yep speaking of that, the other free one swiftly grabs you by your hip in a lovely grip, tender, sweet, how he is • the complete contrary of your ex btw • the only time he asked you about them you got tense for the whole night • and he felt so guilty about not being more careful and so mad with your last partner • “you’ve got yourself an android? wow, sunken so low?” • you close your lids for a second and sigh in exasperation, really? very predictable • “yeah, you’re right, he treats me nice and loves me, the bar’s sunken pretty low” • this dork can’t help but let a low and quick chuckle escapes his lips • the same that go onto yours, kissing you deeply, passionately, nearly leaving you gasping • he tilts your head, caressing your cheek, then turns to the person standing on the doorway again • “i’m sorry, as my partner said before, do you truly have business here?” • your thoughts still hazy, your ex about to speak but— • he closes the door in front of their face with a loud bang 

RK800-60:

• it’s a chilly summer evening, fresh breeze, a limpid sky, honestly the only thing to do is go out and enjoy detroit’s nightlife • plus, it’s your boyfriend we’re talking about, he’s the embodiment of having fun 24/24 h • you find a nice club, music not too loud but there nevertheless, if he wants he can go dancing while you’re sipping your drink • which is a thing that might or might not happen • he doesn’t want to leave you alone but gosh the beat is totally calling him • “hello, is this seat free?” • a familiar tone drills through your ears, you whip towards the sound • your ex • god, your ex • you briefly mentioned something about them to your darling but • “yes, it is” he smiles and replies, unaware of the situation • “oh but it’s you, [name]! how long has it been? six months?” • “more than that” • “seriously? time flies then!” • “you know this person, sweetie?” he half-whispers, his expression that of a lovesick puppy, already oddly getting the hint of something being wrong, probably because of your accelerated pulse he can feel with his fingers on your wrist • “y–yeah, it’s my ex—” • “so clumsy of you, [name], you should introduce me properly” • he’s dumb when he wants but not this time, his LED blaring red, fidgeting and moving closer to you, an arm around your shoulder, protecting you • “don’t worry, I can do that myself. nice to meet you, I’m [name]’s boyfriend.” • there was absolutely no need to but he did it anyway • he’s so nervous please excuse him • not only he’s jealous because he’s a champ in inferiority complex • but he’s also fuming? it’s pretty obvious how mean is this asshole you don’t have to tell him • “you’ve found someone else? thought our relationship left you quite heartbroken, but then again, you’ve always been the promiscuous type, haven’t you?” a snicker and there’s nothing after that • your android doesn’t hesitate and strikes a punch, perhaps putting too much force and fracturing their nose • he’s not even completely conscious about his action, he just felt the urge and did it, his LED slowly returning to yellow and then blue • “what the fuck—” your ex doesn’t get to finish the phrase, him grabbing the collar of their shirt, his fist feigning another hit and they put their hands to cover the face, scared, trembling • “don’t you dare approach [name] ever again, clear?” he grits through his teeth but there’s no response “I said, are we clear?” • after a feeble choked ‘yes’ he loosens the grasp, letting your old partner falling to the ground • he takes you home immediately, too pissed off to talk about what he did • he’s a bit scared you’ll scold him but there was no choice, believe him, he felt he had to • he spend the rest of the night cuddling and reassuring you

[bazwillendinflames]

Here I Am, Pry Me Open (Norkus)

When Markus visits Washington, leaving North behind as his second-in-command, she finds herself desperate for her best friend to return. Finding herself comforted by an old human story of connection, she waits for him to return. Or, the story of the red string of fate, as shown by a pining North desperate to pull Markus back to her.

Read on Ao3 

North can’t stand human cliches. She can’t stand most humans at all, truthfully, but something about their little collection of sayings irk her. They’re misleadingly optimistic phrases for a species that have brought nothing but destruction and hate for as long as she can remember. (And there’s so much more she can’t but if she could, North knows she’d be furious about that too.)

But, there’s one story, one little saying, that she likes a little. The red string of fate. It’s old and almost sweet (as if she’d use the word sweet ) and a strange comfort as she watches Markus walk away out the window of a dusty church. He turns for a moment, finds her somehow, smiles one last time and North could have swore she felt a tug on an invisible string linking them together.

Despite all the shit she’ll get for it later, she smiles back at him, waves goodbye, ignoring the urge to pull him back to her on string no one else could see.

Androids didn’t sleep - they either go on standby mode or recharge mode - neither are needed every night the way humans rest. But, on the first night Markus spends travelling to Washington, North is restless.

She kept imagining an endless cord of red unravelling between them as he got further and further away; it was the furthurest they had ever been apart before.

It was a big step for deviants - Markus was allowed in the human section of a plane for one - the Washington negotiations were key if they wanted to follow up on the equality they had fought for nation wide.

Despite this, there was a selfish part of North that wanted Markus to stay. Washington was unfamiliar territory. He was smart and diplomatic (and calm : something she’d always be jealous of) but she couldn’t bring herself to trust the human politicians to look past their prejudices to see that.

Even with so much talk of peace, North couldn’t help but worry he was flying into a trap. With him hundreds of miles away, she couldn’t have his back like she usually did.

North pulled on the invisible string on her fingertip, hoping it wouldn’t snap in the ever-growing space between them.

    “It has been confirmed that deviant leader, a rare RK-200 model by the name of Markus, has arrived in Washington earlier this morning. With the situation in Detroit still tense, the negotiations between human and deviant representatives are more important than ever. Now, to our Washington correspondent.”

North crossed her arms, watching the blurry footage of Markus being escorted from the airport whilst journalists crowded around shouting questions.

“North?”

Ignoring the obvious concern in Josh’s voice, she frowned at the tablet. “He looks like a right idiot in that outfit. I mean, seriously, a suit?”

“He probably felt like it would help him fit in with the humans,” Simon replied from behind her.

“Markus shouldn’t have to fit in. His long grey coat would work better. Makes him look like a real rebel.”

“I think you’re the rebel in your relationship.”   

She frowned at the implications of the word relationship (it was, god forbid the curse of human cliches, complicated).

“North, you’ve been watching the news all morning. The talks don’t even start till tomorrow.” Josh caught Simon’s eye and they exchanged some kind of worried look, before he continued, ���it’s helping you.”

“I’m just keeping an eye on things.”

“Markus put in charge of operations,” Josh added, never one to back down from anything.

“I can multitask.”

“You can’t keep an eye on the news and Jericho.”

Josh made a grab for the tablet. “Come help us sort out supplies.”

“Please,” Simon added.

“What kind of supplies?”

“Medical.”

“Boring.” Still North got up to follow them. “But, I’m checking the news again in an hour.”

They walked through the Church together, back to the friendly teasing she was used to.

The red string of fate didn’t always have to be romantic. North imagined a trio of strings tangled in the space between the three of them: companions for life. She also imagined two more strings connected to Markus in Washington, maybe not as tight or well monitored. But, always present if you knew where to look.

    The string of fate was red because it was human story. It was supposed to represent a heart string. By that logic, for androids it should be a blue string, for blue blood connecting blue hearts.

But North loved red. It was the colour of flames burning elastic underwear, the colour of broken code, the colour of artificial blush she never worked out how to turn off that only Markus’ soft words sparked.

So, their strong of fate was red. And now it was like an endless loop that stretched to Washington and back, threading back through the place on the tablet where Markus’ heart was.

For most of the androids at Jericho (despite the gossip), the meeting between Markus and North could be seen as a weekly update about their cause. For those who could visual the red link between them, it was clearly more.

“I want to have at least one signed treaty before I come back,” Markus continued, “I need something solid to prove we are moving forward.”

“How long do you think that will take?”

“A while. Washington isn’t as forward thinking as they wanted us to believe. They still look at me like I’m some kind of liberated toaster.” Markus laughed at his own joke. “But, there’s some progress. As long as they don’t think it’ll cost too much, we might come out with something.”

“If anyone can convince them, it’s you.”

There was a moment before he replied, the connection was flickering in and out.

“I hope so.” He leaves forward. “How are you?”

“Jericho is still running. We’ve been organising the new medical unit-“

“No, I asked about you . Obviously I care about Jericho. But I care about you too, North. So, tell me how you are, all the little things.”

“Okay, I feel…” feeling was part of being deviant but it wasn’t easy to talk about, usually she just showed him, “overworked. I’ve been managing the Jericho emails and it gave me a lag when I logged in. I don’t get how you do it.”

“Well, I type in the password-“

North laughed, for the first time since Markus had left. “Okay, idiot.”

He was smiling at her.

No, more like… he was looking at her like was something precious. She was the source of his smile, that much North was certain of.

“What?”

“Nothing, the screen froze that’s all.”

“Damnit, stupid computer. Was I pulling a stupid face?”

“No, you just looked really happy for a moment. It was-” Markus shook his head, looking at her in the insufferable fond way, “anyway, you said you were feeling overworked?”

They kept talking until the signal finally died and left North staring at a black screen.

The endless string of fate knitting them together was stretched out again and when she put her hand to her chest, she could have sworn she felt it tugging on her heart.

    Androids didn’t sleep but whenever North recharged, she never felt safe to do so unless she was with someone to watch over her. She hadn’t realised how used to that person being Markus she had gotten until his trip.

Despite the fact North’s energy levels were in the red, she was still yet to recharge. Instead, she paced around Markus’ office, trying her best to avoid looking at the plush airchair she usually recharged herself on. The door may be locked but North couldn’t quite bring herself to sit and put herself into recharge mode.

It was embarrassing to admit that the reason she had always gone to Markus’ office was because he made her feel safe . He made everyone feel safe, which was why so many androids looked up to him.

But, sometimes it seemed like he had a special kind of safety he reserved for her. The kind of kinship from bringing freedom to their people side by side, now carried over to her recharging in his office, knowing he’d never leave her there vulnerable and alone.

Androids didn’t sleep but they dreamt (maybe just deviants dreamt) and when North she dreamt, it was with Markus watching over her, like an angel.

Now, as she put herself on recharge mode without him, it felt like she was missing a key part in her routine.

(Truthfully, she was missing him.)

    “Confirmation that congress are drawing up an agreement with the androids, as represented by deviant leader Markus, suggests the previous silence towards policy about androids may be broken. President Warren is still yet to make any press statements about the deviants since they revolted in 2038 but it seems like congress's plans suggests a change in policy. Speculation on exactly what rights deviants will be granted is yet to be confirmed. Back to you Josh.”

“I knew he could do it.”

“It seems like diplomacy works after all,” Josh replied, a little slyly.

Ignoring his jab, North turned her attention back to the news.

“I need something solid to prove we are moving forward.”

North wasn’t going to admit it, but part of her excitement was more selfish than about progress for the deviants cause. If Markus could make a deal, pass an act, make his mark, he’d come back to Detroit victorious.

He’d come back to her, shorten the stretch of string connecting them.

He’d come back to her and she’d feel safe again.

    Human congress took long enough to pass acts as it was but the human protest at anything to do with android rights slowed it down further. (How Josh could justify any kind of peace with people who had defended their imprisonment for over a decade was a mystery to her. Who were petitioning to get Markus kicked out of Washington. North had woken up due to the cruelty of a single human man. She hadn’t closed her eyes since.)

Markus, to his credit, never shouted back. He looked almost regal, with his calm walking, head held high. There was something admirable about it really, North would have snapped after a single comment and blown something up. (Exactly why she was left behind.)

“He kinda looks like a rock star,” Simon muttered, glancing to check Josh hadn’t heard. (If she and Markus were complicated, Simon and Josh were just idiots. If it wasn’t so fun to tease them, she’d intervene.)

“He looks better than that,” North replies. Simon looked up and they shared a brief nod of understanding. Markus was… well there was something about him that meant they weren’t alone in thinking of him as some kind of hero. Heroes were always attractive to people. North would hate that kind of attention, although she was aware some of the androids must look at her in the same way.

Most of Jericho looked at Markus like he was made of gold or something. And, somehow, he chose her to intertwine the string connecting their artificial hearts. If she looked at him like he was golden, Markus looked at her like she was equally precious. (Precious was different to delicate. She appreciated that.)

    Another month crawled past and North started to feel more confident in her temporary position as Jericho’s leader. She called Markus for advice weekly (although the topic always wandered away from that.) Still, she was happy to return to second-in-command as soon as Markus had sent the message he was coming back. It was exclusive - a whole three days before the news ran headlines on the Android Work Visa Act - but her joy at progress was overshadowed greatly by the news that Markus was booking a flight back to Detroit.

(That was how much she liked him. Before, she was willing to die for their cause. Now, she wanted to survive for a life with Markus.)

She crowded in the projector room, between Josh and Simon, watching the live press coverage.

“Markus, Markus!” They yelled eagerly.

“Total rockstar,” Simon muttered. She elbowed him.

“Will this act take work away from humans?”

“Not at all. There’s been a huge need for people to take up the roles left unoccupied since we got our freedom. Now, we can work together to keep our cities clean and supported.”

North grinned; he was wearing the long grey coat, the back of it flying in the wind like the rebel leader he was.

    “You’ve done your hair.”

“Shut up Simon.”

North pushed back a loose curl behind her ear, suddenly self conscious. She may have twisted her hair back into a carefully styled bun for Markus’ return but she had hoped no one would actually notice. It would probably only further Jericho’s gossip circles.

Markus’ flight had landed an hour ago and she was with the office door open. It made her feel like some kind of housewife.

“No, it’s nice.”

“Stop pulling that face.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

She shut off the tablet and turned around. Simon may be wearing a neutral smile now but she could sense the smugness underneath. (And after she hadn’t mentioned that Josh wore his sweater in last week's meeting. Traiter.)

“Lucy wanted your help. She’s in the conference room.”

“We only use that for emergency meetings.” North pulled on her jacket. “Is it an emergency?”

Simon shrugged. “She just messaged me for your help. You know you’re Lucy’s favourite, right?”

“As I should be.”

    The conference room was in the basement of the Church, a location mostly chosen as it was insulated by thick walls.

“Lucy?” she called, pushing the door behind her, “Lucy?”

“Not quite.”

North turned around at the familiar voice. It was the first time in months she had heard it in person. “Markus?”

“Hey.”

“You- how did you get in without me noticing?”

“Back exit. I needed some time to recover before everyone questioned me on my trip.”

“I might question you on your trip.”

“Oh,” Markus smirked, “sure. Do you want to know about negotiations or policy first?”

She laughed, still half-convinced she was glitching or something.

Markus moved towards her so they were standing an arms reach away.

“I’m not going to say I missed you.”

“I was going to say I missed you.”

North chuckled despite herself. “Okay, I did miss you.”

“Wait,” Markus pulled a small package from his pocket. It had been wrapped in Washington newspaper. “I got you something.”

“I hope it’s a bomb.”

“North.”

“Joking.” She unwrapped it carefully, finding a little glass dome in her hands. “A snow globe.”

“It’s the Washington monument. I didn’t get to see much of the city but-”

“I’ve always wanted a snow globe.”

“I know,” Markus said, “You said it was one of the few human traditions you found cute. Like a tiny world to rule.”

“That was months ago.”

“I can’t forget anything. And… I wanted to get you something. Take it as proof that I was thinking of you.”

North put it down on the table, watching a glittery snow storm fall around a tiny Washington. “I don’t have anything to prove I was missing you.”

“I know,” Markus said, moving his hand to his heart, “I know.”

Just like that, North was reminded of her own heart and the string connecting them, now shorter than an arm's length after months of being stretched out of shape. When Markus touched his heart, he seemed to shorten it further, pulling them closer and closer together, until North was looking up at him.

She had kissed Markus before but it was the same day that Jericho sank and they fought and won their freedom. They hadn’t done it since, even if they stood side by side eyeday.

Now, they were standing chest to chest. The last of the red string faded away as North leant up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

[fandom-necromancer]

Reluctant Jealousy

This was prompted by a lovely anon! Sorry again for being late, but this was really fun to write!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900, Allen60

‘Hey, Nines, I’m heading out!’ The android smiled at the man’s call and stopped drying the dishes to go to the door and give Gavin a quick hug. They had just finished dinner and instead of their usual routine of watching a movie and relax from the day, Gavin had decided to spend the evening outside with some friends. ‘Have fun!’, Nines said with a grin. ‘Call me if you need someone to pick you up.’ ‘I will. Sorry to leave you with all this mess.’ ‘Don’t worry. I will enjoy a bit of piece and quiet’, he joked, but pressed a kiss to his forehead before watching his human enter an automated taxi and waving him goodbye.

Nines shook his head, glad that Gavin finally worked on getting to know new people. The Detective had admitted himself Nines had changed his stance at pushing everyone away, although he wouldn’t suddenly be the most social person either. It was a good development and it gave the android the opportunity to get a bit of work done without being distracted by his beautiful human.

-

It was late at night and Captain Allen wasn’t able to fall asleep. Sixty was lying next to him in motionless stasis. Allen had been able to fake a smile and reassure the android that all was fine, but now his worry didn’t leave him. He shouldn’t think like this. He should trust Sixty. He shouldn’t be jealous of something that could as well have an easy explanation. He should know that Sixty’s love was real and that there was no way he would ever do what Allen thought of.  But he was only human. Logic sometimes lost to emotion.

He had watched Sixty drive off and had spent the evening reading and cleaning a bit. At that moment he had realised they were a bit short on groceries and that he could as well use the time to get some shopping done. It was in the parking lot that his heart missed a beat. Sixty was sitting at a small café, drinking coffee-flavoured thirium. Opposite to him, Detective Reed, the biggest asshole the police department could complain about, sat. They were spending time together. They had had fun, laughing and joking. It was normal. That was just a normal thing to do. Sixty could spent time with other people. Allen definitely didn’t want to be one of those partners that kept their significant other away from life if it wasn’t life with them. And… friends hugged sometimes, yes? That had been one of these friendly hugs, not one of… No. Sixty wouldn’t hide something like that from him. And Gavin… Wasn’t he with that new RK over there? RK900? What was his name? Hank had told him after a meeting that Gavin had found someone. Or rather that the new android took to him and stuck to him like fleas to a stray dog. Apparently saved him from loneliness if Hank was to be believed. That wasn’t a small thing to do. Was the infamous man that much of an asshole to throw it away? Was this RK900 fine with it?

No matter what the truth would be, Allen didn’t want to confront Sixty. He felt ashamed for thinking Sixty had betrayed him and he didn’t want the android to know he doubted him if it turned out to be just a friendly interaction. Then and there, he decided to pay the new android in the police side of the building a visit.

-

Nines looked up as someone approached his desk. It was break time and although most people were taking their breaks relatively flexible, Gavin always liked to be overly correct with his break. So if it wasn’t his partner, who would pay him a visit? Expecting Hank or Connor, he frowned as his scan turned back with a different result. ‘Captain Allen. That’s a surprise. What can I help SWAT with?’ The other looked nervous and Nines guessed they needed help with a risky mission. He knew they had Sixty over there, but well, the RK900 was the soldier unit, not the RK800. ‘Err… Yes… Hello. I don’t think we met before. You are the android that partnered up with Detective Reed?’ ‘Yes’, the android nodded. ‘RK900 unit, Detective Nines.’ ‘I’m sorry, I have to admit I’m here on a personal topic. Has Gavin mentioned Sixty lately?’ That confused Nines even more. ‘No, why should he?’ ‘Listen, I don’t want to ruin anything, I just worry, okay? Sixty and me… Well, we are in a relationship not that different to yours and Gavin’s I suppose, but… I’ve seen him with Gavin and I suppose they met more than just once. I don’t want to imply Gavin or Sixty betrayed us, but… well, I just wanted to ask if you knew anything.’

Nines immediate reaction to that would have been laughter and then a very angry “get lost”, but the Captain really looked concerned and from what he heard about the man he usually had been right with his gut feelings in the past. ‘Well, I don’t know more than you do. I didn’t know he met with Sixty. He just told me he met with friends when leaving and I support that. I don’t think he would lie to me. He knows he can share anything with me and he usually does, even if that means hours of arguing afterwards.’ That had Allen’s shoulders sag in disappointment and Nines’ eyes fell on the two persons coming out of the breakroom, each with one cup of coffee in hand.

-

Gavin had been surprised to meet Sixty during his break. Usually SWAT stayed on their side of the building except for missions or when their coffee-machine broke. That had been how they initially met, the android cursing heavily trying to figure out how theirs worked. It was an old one that was quite stubborn if you didn’t know how on what side to put some pressure so it would close correctly. Gavin had planned to wait it out amused by what he had thought to be Connor struggling. But those curses were nothing like the occasionally boring “shit” from the puppy-eyed tin-can. No, the creativity of those rivalled his own. So, on his mission to hand the title of having the least friends in the precinct to officer Person, he decided to help out.

After that they got to know each other outside of work and it turned out neat. Although he was an android, Gavin concluded he wasn’t that bad. Especially as the RK800 had been predisposed to become a Connor and ended up being so much more of a Gavin is almost seemed impossible. Sixty even was better, resorting to more intelligent ways to phck people over than he could have ever imagined.

So it had been a pleasant surprise to meet the android here. ‘Coffee-machine broke again?’, Gavin chuckled, seeing Sixty expertly hitting, then pressing the right spot to let the compartment slide in perfectly smooth. ‘Oh, hi Gavin! No, Allen just wanted to speak to someone. Why he didn’t email is beyond me, but hey, got to see the boring side of the building again.’ ‘Heh, as if your side was that different.’ ‘Well, we don’t have you or Connor, so…’ Gavin laughed, elbowing the machine lightly, as there would be no give at all. He had made that mistake once and ended up with a pretty bruise. Never again. The coffee was finished and Sixty began pouring a cup. ‘You want one too?’ ‘The day I don’t want coffee, I’m dead’, Gavin chuckled, but nodded a thanks. ‘Should get back to Nines, he doesn’t take kindly to being left with the boring stuff.’ ‘Yeah, I bet he does. “Hey, Sixty, you are so much faster with that, why don’t you do it?”’ He laughed, shutting down the perfect voice imitation of his partner. ‘Maybe because I want a challenge for once? By the way, where’s he? Can’t take that long to speak with someone.’

They left the breakroom and froze, as they saw both their partners talking to each other, looking… Well, not happy at all. They looked at each other, before continuing walking towards the desks. Meanwhile Allen had turned and under Nines watching eyes, Gavin suddenly felt even smaller.

‘Err… What’s that all about? SWAT need something?’, the human tried to play it down as both of them stayed quite. ‘Gav, I-‘ ‘Sixty,-‘ The two looked at each other, then Nines continued. ‘To be plain, we just wanted to ask what is going on between you two. Because whatever it is, we would like to know.’ ‘What the-‘, Gavin begun, but Sixty didn’t let him speak, his voice sounding surprised an more than just a bit angry: ‘Are you two idiots really thinking we are dating?’

There were a few minutes of silence then, until Allen spoke up hesitantly. ‘Well, I saw you meeting Gavin in a café while shopping and you kind of hugged and-‘ ‘People can hug for fucks sake! Doesn’t mean I end up in bed with… urgh…’ ‘I know! I know, it was just that-‘ ‘Joseph. I love you more than anything on this world. That will never change. Gavin is just a very competent Detective and it’s fun to be around him. We are just friends. I would never betray you. And I am most definitely not dating Gavin.’ He quickly turned to the Detective apologetically. ‘Sorry, man, just… no.’ Gavin lifted his hands in defence. ‘Hey, dude, same. I don’t want anyone but Nines. Just, hey, babe, please understand, my ego can only take so much praise until I have to ground myself around assholes like me. I will always be yours, because I am safe with you and you care. We are just friends, nothing more.’

‘And I am happy for you’, Nines was quick to reassure. ‘It was just that the Captain was worried and normally has a really good take on situations and…’ ‘This has been a huge misunderstanding then’, Allen sighed. ‘Sixty, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you.’ ‘Joseph, it’s fine’, Sixty said calmly. ‘I mean I guess I could have told you, just didn’t thought is was that important.’ Although the situation had been resolved and all parties were reasonably relieved now the atmosphere of awkwardness hung over them and Gavin really didn’t want that feeling to linger. So, he took initiative and suggested: ‘Hey, maybe we could just forget this happened and next time, we meet all four? Could be fun?’ Allen was the first to agree, happy to take the attempt of getting back to normal. ‘That’s a great idea. I mean, Nines, we never met before, so this may be a better way to get to know each other instead of overthinking our partners’ life decisions.’ That made the android smile. ‘As long as Sixty isn’t as nerve-wrecking as Connor, I’m in.’ ‘Did you just insult me?’