#car accident detroit

[ilottthepilot]

what's the context about david malukas?

ok quickfire recap:

david malukas signs a contract to drive the #6 car for mclaren this season

david breaks his hand in a cyling accident before the season starts

callum ilott fills in for him for the first two races

david's injury is worse than expected and the recovery is taking a while

callum has a wec clash so théo pourchaire fills in and does decently well

david still has not recovered and there is a clause in his contract that mclaren can fire him if he misses a certain number of races. mclaren takes that out and fires him

théo signs with mclaren full time for the rest of the indycar season (except the indy 500, which callum does), dropping out of super formula

théo has an incident with agustin canapino on track in detroit, gets hate messages and death threats, mclaren rallies behind him and publicly stands up for him and ends a business partnership with JHR, agustin's team

JHR suspends agustin for a race, nolan siegel races road america for them instead

david malukas finally recovers from his injury :) and signs with meyer shank for the rest of the season, starting with this weekend

nolan siegel wins le mans in the lmp2 class with united autosport (which is owned by zak brown)

yesterday: théo tweets about how excited he is to race at laguna seca this week

today: mclaren announces that nolan siegel will drive the #6 car for the rest of the season starting this weekend AND that nolan has a multi year contract

which leads us to david malukas's tweet which was deleted within less than 10 minutes

basically it's a response to mclaren putting a 3rd replacement in the car when david is already back on track himself

also edit: IMPORTANT CONTEXT, théo was not doing badly for a rookie and it does not seem like there is any reason to replace him from a results standpoint at this point

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 5: LIVE FOR A CENTURY, LEARN FOR A CENTURY

synopsis: you get hurt while chasing down another deviant. connor is introduced to your cat.

word count: 3.7k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: i literally got into the most minor car accident ever (like, not even a fender bender. no one got hurt) and i couldn't sleep because i felt so shitty so that's why i'm posting at this ungodly hour (read: 6:30 am) 😭😭

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

The elevator shifts and jolts under your feet as it ascends. You catch yourself and splay a hand out on the wall to keep yourself from falling. 

“Fucking hate this,” you mumble. “Reminds me of the busted-up khrushchyovka I lived in just outside of St. Petersburg.”

“Was it in the ghetto?” Hank asks from the opposite side of the elevator.

“A slum, more like,” you say. “We don’t have ghettos. Not like here.”

You’re surprised Connor didn’t ask anything about the khrushchyovka. Instead, he’s just standing there, his eyes closed and idling.

The elevator dings, and you open the gate, letting you and Hank out. There isn’t a set of footsteps behind you as you walk. 

Hank stops in front of you, looking behind you. You follow Hank’s eyes. Connor’s still idling, his eyes still closed. 

“Hey, Connor!” Hank calls. “You run outta batteries or what?”

Connor’s eyes snap open, then he takes in his surroundings, realizing the elevator ride is over. “I’m sorry. I was making a report to CyberLife.”

“Huh,” Hank hums. Connor continues to idle. 

You smile. “Are you planning on staying in the elevator?”

“No!” He replies, almost indignant. “I’m coming.”

You laugh under your breath and turn to walk down the hall, not missing the look Hank gives you when he hears the emotion in Connor’s voice. 

Hank follows, looking at the chipped paint on the walls and the once-boarded-up windows. “What do we know about this guy?”

“Not much,” Connor says. “Just that a neighbor reported that he heard strange noises coming from this floor. Nobody’s supposed to be living here, but the neighbor said he saw a man hiding an LED under his cap.”

“Oh, Christ,” Hank groans. “If we have to investigate every time someone hears a strange noise, we’re gonna need more cops!”

You come to a stop outside of the door of the suspect’s apartment, double-checking the floor and apartment number. Hank stands beside you, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey, were you really making a report back there in the elevator?” Hank asks. “Just by closing your eyes?”

“Correct,” Connor says. 

“Shit…” Hank mumbles. “Wish I could do that.”

“You could, if you had augmentations,” you say as you look through the peephole. “Not my kind, though. Mine are relatively unintrusive. What I’m talking about is some extreme jack-jaw or port-wrist shit.”

“Whatever.” Hank huffs.

You pull away from the door and sigh. “The peephole’s blocked.”

Connor takes your place and knocks on the door. “Anybody home?”

No response.

He knocks harder, basically banging his fist against the wood. “Open up! Detroit Police!”

There’s sounds from inside. A banging, something falling, frantic footsteps.

Hank immediately takes a step back, drawing his gun. “Stay behind me.”

You backpedal, and Connor holds out an arm to gauge where you are. It brushes against your midsection, like he’s making sure you’re behind him and safe.

Hank hoists a leg and kicks the door down. He points his gun forward as he slowly moves inside, checking corners and doors. 

Connor follows him, and you trail after. Hank busts through the last door, causing a cascade of pigeons to fly out. 

“What the fuck is this?!” Hank shouts. 

You and Connor move after him, entering the apartment. The rank smell of uncleaned bird shit immediately assaults your senses, causing you to cough despite yourself.

“What in the…?” You look around the apartment. Precisely-drawn mazes cover the walls, and pigeons and their mess covers the floor. They hoo and purr amongst themselves, looking at you, Hank, and Connor like you were the ones who didn’t belong here.

“Looks like we came for nothin’,” Hank calls from the other room. “Our man’s gone.”

“Well, we came all this way,” you say. “Let’s at least have a look around.”

You step closer to the wall, looking up at the maze drawn on it. Your eyes trace it – it’s hexagonal, and doesn’t seem to have any exit.

“Any ideas?” Hank says. 

“No,” you say. “But he’s definitely an android. No human is this precise. There’s not even a wiggle in the lines or any stray marks.”

“I’ve found something,” Connor calls from the bathroom. 

You lean into the doorway. “What, did he leave an expensive shampoo or something? I’m running out.”

“No,” Connor says. He moves to the side, revealing the obsessive writing covering the wall. 

“rA9,” he continues. “Written 2471 times. It’s the same sign Ortiz’s android wrote on the shower wall. Why are they obsessed with this sign…?”

“Could be superstition,” you say. “Even if it seems a bit silly. My mother rejected my father’s proposal just because it was on the eighteenth of May – it’s simply bad luck to do any act of romance on the eighteenth of any month. She accepted the next day, just as the clock hit 12:01 AM.”

“Huh. That’s an odd thing to do.” Connor turns to the sink and picks something up. 

“It’s superstition. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense.” You shrug. “What’ve you got there?”

“An LED,” Connor says. “It was deactivated just hours ago.”

“So the suspect could’ve known we were coming,” you say. “Or knew he fucked up somehow.”

“Officer, you keep referring to androids with gendered pronouns,” Connor says. “You do know androids don’t have sexes, right?”

“I know.” You shrug. “It’s just hard to call something that walks, talks, acts like a human an it. It feels… dehumanizing. Even if they’re not human.”

You level with Connor’s almost-unblinking gaze. “I know what you’re thinking. But I’m not a sympathizer,” you lie.

You pull away from the doorway, instead looking across the apartment again. You join Hank in peering around, half-assedly investigating. A poster catches your eye – one for the United Farms of Detroit. It’s a union of some sort, you think. 

“You Soviets love your unions,” Hank says from somewhere behind you.

“After the Great Purge, we couldn’t take any chances.” You sigh, running a finger along the edge of the poster. “Stalin fucked up a lot of the USSR. But we bounced back. We always do.”

The poster flutters in the wake of your touch, and the corner curls in on itself. You gasp softly as a crack in the wall turns out to be a hole. 

You pull the poster off completely, revealing the hole in the wall in its entirety. A journal sits neatly, nestled right next to a small box of .357 Magnum bullets. You flick it open, and inside, is a myriad of jumbles and mirrors of the mazes drawn on the wall. 

“Found something?” Hank asks. 

“Bullets for a revolver,” you say. “And a journal, but… it’s encrypted.”

You feel a brush against your elbow – soft, but far too solid to be ignored. You gasp and turn, only to see Connor.

“Боже!” You put a hand on your chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“I apologize, Officer,” Connor says. “May I see the journal?”

“I, uh… yeah,” you manage to squeak out. You’d take a step back, but your back is basically half a foot away from being flush against the wall.

Connor takes the journal from your hands, flicking through it just as you did. He shows no signs of moving, so you squeeze past him, a nervous hand on his upper arm. 

“Sorry,” you whisper as you move past. You can feel your face warm as your front brushes his side and internally curse yourself for being so easily affected. 

“You’re right,” Connor says. “It doesn’t match any codes I have in my database. This is a unique script.”

He tucks the journal in one of his inner jacket pockets and turns to investigate the apartment further. You watch as his eyes turn to the ceiling. 

“Is that a hole in the ceiling?” You ask. “This place really is falling apart.”

Suddenly, something drops from the hole and sends Connor crashing to the floor. It takes a second to register that it’s a person – or, android, rather. By that time, he’s already run out through the front door. 

Connor immediately books it after the suspect, disappearing around the corner. You immediately take after them despite being slow and human.

“He might have a gun!” You call after Connor.

“It does!” He calls back. 

Sure enough, you can see a revolver in the android’s hand. He points back and takes a blind potshot that misses both of you entirely. 

You count in your mind: five bullets left. 

You run across the roof, through greenhouses and over scaffolding. All the while, you count the gunshots: four – three – two. 

You come to a screeching halt on the edge of a roof, just watching in shock as Connor jumps from a moving train to another roof. “Твою ж мать!”

“That way!” Hank calls from behind you, out of breath and panting. “The right!”

You break for the scaffolding that connects the two buildings, trying to get ahead. You cut through a building, legs burning as you take the stairs. You burst through the roof exit, and –

Another body immediately collides into yours, and you close your arms around it on instinct. They throw their head back, hitting your nose with a sickening crack. You grunt and your eyes water, but you don’t let go. 

What does make you let go is the shocking, electric feeling of something happening to your leg. Your ears ring and you can’t hear your own scream as you collapse, cradling your calf. 

You can feel your lips forming curses, feel your vocal cords vibrate as you sputter and cry out. A hand comes to your back, warm and rough and one you recognize as Hank’s.

You can just barely hear him say “Hands off, hands off!” and pull your hands away from the entry wound. You can only faintly translate his words in your mind, but you know every word that leaves your lips is Russian. Thirium spills out and Hank desperately tries to keep it in. 

Through your blurred vision, you can see Connor turn the corner. You point after where the deviant went, sputtering “Одна пуля! У него только одна пуля!”

He nods and disappears after him in a blur of moving limbs and blue highlights. 

You try to adjust your position to watch him, but a jolt of pain runs up your leg and into your spine. “Блять – Hank!”

“It’s okay, I got you, kid.” He takes a handkerchief from the inside of his jacket, bunching up your pant leg and tying a makeshift tourniquet. 

Another gunshot rings out, and there’s the sound of a body falling to the ground. You grab Hank’s hand, stammering out “Connor! See Connor!”

He understands your kind-of-broken English and moves to the edge of the roof, looking over the edge. “It’s okay. The deviant killed itself, not Connor.”

You slump down, your back hitting the hard concrete. You sigh and close your eyes. “Слава богу.”

Hank kneels by your side and gently jostles your shoulder. “How come you never told me you had a prosthetic?”

You open your eyes and look up at him, slightly delirious from shock. “Ты ж ненавидишь андроидов. You hate androids.”

“Yeah, but I don’t hate you,” Hank says. He pats your hand, then stands. “C’mon. Let’s get you up and movin’.”

You sit up and let him move you, supporting you with an arm around your middle. “You’re real fuckin’ stupid sometimes, y’know that?”

“I know, Lieutenant.”

“Officer, please,” Connor says. “I insist that I at least be present while you repair yourself.”

You reach up into the cabinet and push jars of pickling mushrooms and cucumbers aside to find your spare parts. “Connor, I’ll be okay. I was just in shock earlier, and my nose has already been set.”

You pull your toolbox down and start to lay out what you need on the breakfast table. “Besides, I have a cat. She’s somewhere around the apartment. Don’t you like dogs?”

“I can tolerate cats,” Connor says. 

You lay down a towel on the table, then sit and hoist your calf onto the towel. “Well, she probably won’t tolerate you.”

Connor pulls up a chair next to you, eyeing the damage to your leg. He pulls off his blazer and drapes it on the back of the chair, then rolls up his sleeves. “At least let me supervise the repairs.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “Supervise all you want.”

You pick up a soldering iron and switch on the heating component. You gently pry a piece of metal away from your prosthetic, then cut it loose with the iron.

“Your hands are shaking,” Connor says. 

“No, they’re not,” you snap. Then, you pause and realize that he’s right. “I… okay. What do you want me to do about it?”

“Let me do the repairs.” He leans an elbow on the table and leans closer to you. “I’m an android, so you can trust me to be perfectly precise. If I mess up, I promise I’ll let you take over.”

You sigh and hand over the soldering iron. Connor takes it in one hand and steadies your leg with the other. You breathe out slowly, shakily at the touch. 

To his credit, his movements are smooth and precise. All of his concentration is focused on what he’s doing right now. 

After a few minutes, you quietly ask, “Why are you doing this?”

“It would be…” Connor pauses. “Detrimental if you weren’t able to accompany me and Hank on further cases. Less-than-ideal repairs could possibly cause worse damage than what was there initially.”

“Right,” you say softly. 

“May I ask you a question, Officer?” Connor asks, still concentrating. 

“Yeah,” you say. “What is it?”

“You acted like you were in… pain when your prosthetic got shot,” Connor says. “Why was that?”

“Phantom limb phenomenon,” you say. “Everything happened too quickly. My brain remembered what it should be feeling. So it just replayed the… the memory of…”

You look away, out the window. You swallow thickly, suppressing your words. Connor doesn’t need to know this. “Nevermind.”

“The memory of what, Officer?” Connor prompts. 

“Nothing,” you say. “It’s nothing.”

You can see Connor glance at you out of the corner of your eye. He then looks away, instead focusing on the repairs. 

Your eyes catch a flicker of movement in the hallway. It’s a small head and two pointed ears, peeking out of the doorway to your bedroom. Two green eyes, dilated in the low light, blink slowly at you. 

“Бронислава,” you say softly. Her ears perk up in response to hearing her name.

“Bronislava?” Connor parrots. 

You point down the hall. “My cat. She’s shy.”

Connor lifts the soldering iron and looks over his shoulder. As soon as Bronislava registers his eyes on her, she darts back into the room. 

“She’ll come around,” you say. “She was the same way with Hank.”

Connor turns back to your calf. He’s nearly done with the internal work. 

“How are you so good at that?” You ask. “Have you done this before?”

“No,” Connor says. “I just have an intricate knowledge of android parts and biocomponents.”

“That inspires confidence,” you mumble.

Connor huffs out a laugh. “I heard that.”

You lean back in your chair and adjust yourself, your knee knocking against Connor’s. “No, you didn’t.”

You smile to yourself as you replay the sound of Connor’s under-the-breath laugh in your mind. It was nice, even if it only lasted for a second. A weird feeling settles in your chest, like there’s something wrong with your diaphragm. 

“Are you okay, Officer?” Connor asks. “I detect an elevated heart rate and increased rate of breathing.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “Just excited to get my repairs done, is all. I’ve done this enough times to know you’re almost done with the internals.”

“Hm.” Connor hums, then continues his work. You take the opportunity to take in his bare arms – it’s a rare sight. There really isn’t anything out of the ordinary about his forearms, no scars or blemishes, but you still appreciate it. 

Connor breaks into your line of thought. “May I ask you another question?”

“Yeah?” You say.

“It’s about Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor says. “Why does he hate androids so much?”

You feel your stomach sink. You look away and sigh sharply. “I’m not at liberty to answer that question.”

Connor stays silent this time. You’re kind of thankful for that. 

Bronislava peeks her head out of the doorway again, her eyes on Connor. You smile to yourself as you hear the bell on her collar just barely jingle. “Don’t look now, but Бронислава is looking at you. She’s curious.”

“Why is she curious about me?” Connor asks. 

“I don’t bring a lot of people back to my apartment,” you say. “I try to keep my work life and private life as separate as possible.”

You lean down a little and tap at one of the legs of your chair, then snap your fingers and click your tongue. “Бронислава! Иди сюда, детка.”

She lets out a soft, sort-of meow and rubs her cheek against the doorway. You laugh and coo, snapping your fingers again. “Сюда, девочка!”

“Does she only respond to Russian?” Connor asks. 

“Mostly,” you say. “She just responds better than English. Maybe it’s the way my voice changes when I speak Russian.”

You glance over at Connor. “Do you… know Russian?”

“I have a built-in translator,” Connor says. “But I haven’t spoken Russian before.”

“Try,” you say. “Repeat after me: Бронислава! Сюда, девочка!”

“брани–бранислава,” he tries in a sing-song tone. “Сюда, девочка.”

No, he doesn’t roll his r’s or pronounce the words quite right, but it still sparks a bloom of warmth in your chest. You bite the inside of your lip to keep from smiling.

Bronislava peeks further out, her paws on the hardwood floor instead of the carpet of the bedroom she came from. Her bell sounds, soft and tinkling.

“She might like your voice,” you say. 

When you glance at Connor, he’s smiling. Then, you look down at your leg – he’s nearly done sealing the externals. The white plastic is slowly fading away, replaced by a wave of color matching your skin tone. 

“How much longer?” You ask.

“Twenty-seven seconds,” Connor responds.

You sit back and watch Bronislava tentatively sniff the air as Connor finishes up. Her whiskers twitch and her mouth opens as she takes in Connor’s new, intrusive smell.

Connor smoothes his hand over your leg. “I’m done.”

You shiver slightly at the contact and pull your leg away, instead drawing your knee to your chest and resting your foot on the chair. You take the towel and wipe your leg of spilled Thirium, then hand it to Connor so he can wipe his hands.

“Look at Бронислава,” you say softly. “But don’t make it obvious.”

Connor slowly cranes his neck, looking down the hallway out of the corner of his eye. His face lights up a little when Brotislava comes into his view.

“Ah,” he says. “I see her.”

As soon as Bronislava sees that Connor’s eyes are on her again, she retreats back to the safety of the bedroom. 

“Damn,” you huff. You stand, trying out Connor’s repair. You lean a little on it and put weight on it – it holds. 

You put a hand on Connor’s blazer. “Can I take this? To introduce her to your scent.”

“Go ahead,” Connor says.

You take his blazer and retreat to your bedroom. You find Bronislava under your bed, her eyes so dilated you can’t see her irises. 

“Эй, красотка,” you say softly. You snap your fingers with your free hand. “Это всего лишь я.”

She slowly creeps forward, sniffing the air. She smells the blazer in your hand, which is surprisingly soft despite its stiffness. (You’re tempted to mirror her and smell it, but you immediately mentally slap yourself and call yourself a creep, even though the thought didn’t actualize.)

“Видишь? Всё хорошо,” you say, still with that quiet, docile tone. “Это всего лишь Коннор.”

Bronislava slowly crawls out from underneath your bed, inching towards the exit to the hallway. You follow her, staying on her level.

“Connor!” You whisper-shout once you’re in the hallway, Bronislava by your side. “She’s coming towards you. But don’t look at her.”

“Okay, Officer,” Connor says. Even though he’s facing away from you, you can hear the smile in his voice. “What will she do?”

“She’ll probably sniff you,” you say, watching as she inches along, sticking close to the baseboards. “Don’t move a muscle once she does.”

Bronislava glances back at you. “Давай, детка!” You encourage. She turns around and looks at Connor’s back, then continues crawling forward.

“She’s approaching your six,” you say, your tone faux-serious. “Contact imminent.”

Connor laughs. “Acknowledged.”

Bronislava nervously sniffs at the legs of Connor’s chair, then moves on and sniffs at his ankles. 

“Her whiskers are tickling me,” Connor says. 

“Just don’t move!” You laugh.

Bronislava continues exploring, if with a bit of nervousness. She sniffs at the hem of Connor’s jeans, then bites at a loose string.

Then, Connor moves a fraction of an inch. It sets Bronislava off, and she dashes past you and back into the bedroom. 

You lean in the doorway, watching as she disappears under the bed again. “Ох, моя бедняжка… Всё в порядке.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor says. “I was just trying to scan her…”

“It’s okay.” You stand, his blazer still in hand. “She usually just hides around new people. I’m proud of her. And she does seem to like you.”

“She likes me?” Connor says, a bit of excitement in his tone. 

“You sound like a teenager.” You laugh and stand up. You walk over to the table and drape Connor’s blazer over the back of his chair. “Thanks for letting me borrow that, by the way.”

“Of course,” Connor says. 

You move to the side and start to pack your spare parts away in your little toolbox, mentally noting the things you need to replace.

“One more thing,” Connor says. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a prosthetic?”

Your hands still. “It…” you sigh. “I don’t like talking about it. That’s it. It didn’t pertain to the investigation, and you didn’t ask about it, so I didn’t mention it.”

Connor’s LED flickers yellow, then returns to a calm blue. “Understood.”

[matthewtkachuk]

bad at love

Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.

pairing: jt compher x reader

warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3

It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last. 

It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you. 

Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado. 

If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’. 

Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count. 

It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way. 

JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house. 

The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?

You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid. 

But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely. 

Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you. 

By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours. 

Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes. 

-

Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy. 

At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level. 

It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law. 

Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it. 

JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit. 

It warms your heart. 

So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate. 

The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway. 

The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander. 

-

Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena. 

Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell. 

Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility. 

The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier. 

‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass. 

He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs. 

“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”

Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy. 

“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff. 

JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”

Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.” 

He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot. 

“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”

“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”

You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”

Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.

Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces. 

You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you. 

Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16. 

Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?

Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer. 

He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move. 

It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners. 

The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy. 

He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed. 

If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire. 

You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more. 

He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper. 

Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate. 

You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth. 

“It’ll be worth the wait.” 

And worth the wait it is. 

-

It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices. 

It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too. 

It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you. 

You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure. 

It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other. 

You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign. 

Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan. 

Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up. 

-

A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed. 

It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life. 

There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie. 

That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants. 

“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is. 

He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”

His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you. 

“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed. 

He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”

You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”

“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush. 

“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss. 

You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again. 

He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing. 

“I need—“

Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body. 

He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast. 

Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs. 

Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone. 

There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises. 

Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too. 

The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths. 

You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch. 

“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him. 

It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better. 

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips. 

Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him. 

He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm. 

It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too. 

Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up. 

When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs. 

The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery. 

Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall. 

You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake. 

Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with. 

Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying. 

“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap. 

Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”

JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless. 

Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”

JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”

A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.” 

Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing. 

The reality of the situation hits you. 

“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”

“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life. 

“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply. 

“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”

Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

-

In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time. 

“He loves you,” she says. 

You’re not so sure. 

That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here. 

It’s not all bad though. 

Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities. 

You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?

He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school. 

Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat. 

“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be. 

“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.” 

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.” 

It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away. 

The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same. 

Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red. 

It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist. 

In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded. 

“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head. 

Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit. 

It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up. 

Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you’ve probably totaled. 

One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…

When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan. 

“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone. 

“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”

“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts. 

You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”

He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked. 

True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass. 

You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours. 

“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”

The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back. 

His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”

Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again. 

“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact. 

“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head. 

You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”

Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”

“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.” 

It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist. 

The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door. 

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again. 

“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”

“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.” 

“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial. 

“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug. 

Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone,  it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother. 

[copperbadge]

Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Ways to Give:

Edminister Engler is a recent widower who has now been diagnosed with cancer; he doesn't have health coverage and is too sick to work, so is raising funds to help find an oncologist and seek treatment. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

secondalto was in a car accident in February that totaled her car, and she missed work through the end of the school year; insurance was slow to pay out and she didn't get another car (necessary for her job) until last month. Due to the staggered nature of her work, she is facing car and insurance payments, plus gas and other bills, that she won't be able to pay before they are due. She is raising funds for bills and is also offering fic beta services and handicrafts in return for donations; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

songspinner9 linked to a fundraiser for Wren, a young, chronically ill person trying to stay active in their community and studying for a Library Science degree. Insurance will not cover the new wheelchair they need to achieve their goals, so they are fundraising for the wheelchair and power assist; you can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for meowdistract/hauntedrph, a friend with Guillain-Barre Syndrome, which leaves her with limited mobility and weakness. She's offering commissions and raising funds via donation to help pay off debt and treat herself a little for her 30th birthday tomorrow. You can read more, reblog, and find giving/commission information here and there are also links to wishlists and donation options here.

maryellencarter is homeless and has recently moved cross-country to be closer to friends, and has finally been placed in a shelter; they are fundraising to keep their car insurance so they can travel to aid appointments and try to find a more permanent housing solution. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

Beth linked to First Draft Detroit, a Detroit metro region nonprofit intended to replace NaNoWriMo; they're holding their first fundraiser on October 5th. If you are local to Detroit you can buy a ticket to play one of several TTRPGs, plus a silent auction and a bake sale; if you are not local you can still donate to support the org. You can read more, buy a ticket, and support the fundraiser here.

Recurring Needs:

loversdoom has recently been diagnosed with PCOS and needs help to afford the prescribed birth control pills on top of living expenses and dental bills; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here or give via paypal here.

onedollopofsourcream is fundraising to help support a large family including young children during a difficult time; they particularly need funds for needed medication (including insulin), and hopefully eventually to get out of an abusive living situation. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

chingaderita is raising funds to help their family get back on their feet after a house fire that left them in an unsafe living situation with black mold; their partner has also recently had oral surgery and many family members are unemployed, and they need funds for clean water, food, and cleaning until the mold can be taken care of. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

memprime linked to a fundraiser for a friend, virtualalternative, who needs help with cat vet bills after their cat had several blockages; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

[bunchofrandomfandomsandbands]

Random KISS Facts

(That nobody asked for)

Gene

The first time Gene spit fire, he caught his hair on fire

Back in the beginning of KISS, Gene would do a trick with flash paper, but one night his aim was off and the paper blew up in a kid’s face

Paul

During the Hotter Than Hell photoshoot, Paul got so drunk, that Gene had to lock him in the station wagon to keep Paul from hurting himself

Ace

Ace punched Tommy Thayer in the face when he (Tommy) was manager, over Ace having his girlfriend in the dressing room

Ace Frehley almost drowned twice. Once in a hotel bathtub and another time in a pool. Gene saved him both times

A day before the Hotter Than Hell photo shoot, Ace got in a bad car accident and split one side of his face open so. Because of this, Ace couldn’t wear that side of his makeup, so all the shots were profiles

Around 2000, Ace Frehley missed a flight to a concert in Los Angeles and the band got manager Tommy Thayer ready to fill in for Frehley, in costume and makeup. Frehley made it to the show at the last minute via helicopter ride from LAX to the venue

Peter

Peter Criss hardly played during the Reunion/Farewell tour, so they put an amplifier on his drums to make it sound like he was actually playing. That’s why a lot of the crew members would say “don’t sneeze around Peter’s drum set”

Eric C.

After the Dynasty tour was over, Peter Criss left the band. So, after KISS announced his departure, they held auditions for a new drummer and selected Paul Carvello, later renamed Eric Carr

When Eric Carr had to sing “Beth” he called Peter to make sure he (Peter) was ok with him singing his song

When Eric Carr recorded his vocal for the re-recording of “Beth” in 1988, he sat on the same drum stool that Peter Criss used during the original recording of the song in 1976

KISS’s late drummer Eric Carr’s collar on his 1980 “fox” costume was made out of real fox fur

In Paul’s book Face the Music he says that “When the tour stopped in Manhattan for two gigs at the Ritz, Eric Carr came to one of the shows and sat in the balcony with his head resting on the railing through the entire show. Afterwards he came backstage, and out of left field, turned to Eric Singer, and said, ‘You’re going to replace me.’ ‘What are you talking about?’ I spoke. ‘He’s going to replace me in KISS,’ said Eric Carr, nodding at Eric Singer. ‘Listen, Eric, you’re the drummer in KISS, and he’s the drummer of my solo band.’” But as fate would have it, Eric Singer was the perfect fit

Tommy

March 11, 2000, through April 13, 2001, was the Reunion/Farewell Tour with Ace and Peter. Tommy Thayer was KISS’ tour manager at the time, and he had to retrain Ace and Peter all their parts, because they hadn’t played in years. It proved to be difficult, and Tommy almost gave up. But with the reassurance of Paul, he managed to reteach Ace and Peter all their parts

Album/Song Facts

Cannons were recorded and mixed into KISS Alive! to mimic the pyrotechnics that didn’t come through the microphones correctly

Alive! was recorded in multiple different cities with crowd audio combined to make the crowd sound bigger. Alive! was mainly recorded in Detroit

At one point KISS almost went under because Neil Bogart (KISS’ manager) had maxed out his credit card. With the combination of the special effects, levitating drum set (that seldom ever worked), the exploding drumsticks, and Neil’s gambling issue, the band almost went under, but when Alive! went Platinum, it saved the group

On Dynasty Anton Fig played on the tracks except for “Dirty Livin’,” written, and played by Criss even though he wasn’t involved in its production, Peter was still credited on drums, which left Anton Fig uncredited

Psycho Circus was the first album to involve all four original members (though Ace Frehley and Peter Criss only appeared on a select few tracks). "You Wanted the Best" is the only KISS song in which lead vocals are shared by the entire lineup

The radio news announcer at the start of “Detroit Rock City” is KISS’ producer Bob Ezrin. The main news report featured a fatal car accident, and is the backstory of the song, which was based on a reportedly true event that happened to a teen on his way to Detroit KISS concert in 1975

Paul’s yodeling at the beginning of “Heaven’s on Fire” is him warning up. He didn’t realize the camera was rolling, but they decided to keep it in the video

A number of songs from Crazy Nights were performed live during its supporting tour, but during and especially immediately following the tour, most of those songs were dropped and were never performed again

The famous song “Rock and Roll All Nite” was inspired by Slade’s “Mama Weer All Crazee Now”

Towards the end of the Reunion/Farewell tour, fans were shocked to see Eric Singer in full Catman costume and makeup, meaning Peter left the band again for the final time

During the music video for “Heaven’s on Fire” Eric Carr pops up behind Paul, and Paul looks at him for a split second before looking back at the camera. Eric did that randomly. It wasn’t planned. Paul’s reaction was genuine

In the demo for “Baby Driver” Gene is singing

Other

Neil Bogart came up with Peter’s levitating drum set and his exploding drumsticks

The KISS logo is altered in Germany because of the similarities to the Nazi S

Early in KISS’ career, Larry Harris worked an endorsement deal with Gibson guitars, and they provided free guitars that Paul could smash. In exchange, KISS put Gibson on the back of their album covers

Peter “Moose” Oreckinto, a KISS roadie in the early days, was loading Peter Criss’ exploding drumsticks, when one went off, causing a hole in his hand, his chin and his stomach. This accident almost caused Moose to lose his hand, but doctors were able to save it

KISS was nominated for a Grammy in 1999 for Best Hard Rock Performance for their song “Psycho Circus.” (It lost to “Most High” by Page and Plant of Led Zeppelin fame)

Despite the band’s massive 1970s success and again in the late 1990s, Rolling Stone magazine refused to put KISS on its cover until the band’s 40th anniversary in 2013

KISS refused to play shows in their early days without their trademark giant lighted logo. In some venues, its size required it to be stood up on the side of the stage instead of hanging above it

KISS has had ten members during its 50-year existence. Paul Stanley is reportedly the only member to have participated in every song released

The KISS Army started in Indiana when a local radio station refused to play any KISS songs in the early ‘70s. Protesting fans marched outside of the radio station forcing the radio station to play KISS

Facts are continually added

Tagging: @genesstankycodpiece, @solfihelpmi, @ericsingerisababycat, @foxykissworld, @spacefoxy, @sillyamyy, @ericcarrsworshipper, @2000-man1, @tanookikiss, @sluttery-withoutshame, & @daddycatcriss

[waksworldrebooted]

Motorcity X FNAF AU: A BURN IN THE NIGHT (1/3)

The year is 2012 in IRL Detroit Michigan, (no futuristic stuff, just plain ol' Detroit). Two old men Jacob Pirelli and Abraham Kane founded an animatronic company specializing in the mass production of animatronic parts. Kane still has a daughter in this AU (Julie) who was an accountant for the company and made friends with the low-level employees.

In an attempt to boost sales, an attempt to push Julie away from the low-life poor being friends with her, and to try to make his animatronics. He staged an accident involving Julie's friend's bodies getting mangled by the factory machines Framing it as an "accident" as Julie only knows. This causes Kane to use a cultist named Kaia to reanimate the bodies into the animatronics, causing them to have full sentience, but at the cost of these things being bloodthirsty at night.

Julie ends up finding the truth and her lack of caution causes her to get murdered by the exact same machines. A new restaurant called "Backburner Bowling" is opened not just to serve Detroit-style Pizza and bowling services, but to act as a ground for his work and to keep them in check. However, five guards go missing with Kane hiding the bodies by binding their souls into deactivated prototype machines the same way.

A police officer and friend of Julie, Claire Constance, set out as a nightguard gig to find out what happened to her friend. A mechanic named Tennie Yunick sends Claire messages each night to find out what happens:

THE MAIN ANIMATRONICS:

Muttley: The lead of the gang, a cool greaser dog with an electric guitar and a prop muscle car. Do not agitate

Nina Vida: A police cat meant to act as a lover and rival for the main lead who guards the arcade.

Sir Thunderhoof the Vanquisher: A Wizard Horse who is kept by a separate stage at the birthday rooms.

Mr. Whiptail: A robot scorpion located in the arts and crafts room meant to teach kids painting ala Bob Ross.

The Stronghorn: A boxer Rhino located at the play-place, the most aggressive of the bunch.

PART 2 SOON!

[lilaccadenza]

Silver Lining ;; Chapter Thirteen ;; RK1K

Words (overall): 57,948 (ongoing) Words (this chapter): 4,566 Pairing(s): Markus/Connor Rating: Explicit (Eventually) Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (AU) Character POV: Connor Warning(s): chronic pain, referenced past car accident, referenced grief/depression, referenced character death Link: to AO3!

CHAPTER PREVIEW:

The moment Markus' knee appears from beneath his pant leg, Connor's eyes shoot open wide. A pinched, bumpy scar runs from his thigh to the mid-point of his shin. "Are you easily grossed out?" Markus questions. Connor shakes his head. "No." Holding his hand out, Markus makes a quick beckoning gesture. "Can I see your hand?" With a nod, Connor holds out his hand.

[stick-ball]

No one asked, but im gonna throw up some of my Laila Dermott hcs bcs I want them to see the light of day, before TSC abolishes their possiblity.

Laila is:

- from the East Coast, some big town with the vibe of NJ or Detroit.

- jewish, bcs I said so

- orphaned at 10 in some accident or other, probably car crash but im not sure if her parents were in a car or pedestrians.

- had a much older sister, 16 years older or so, that her mom had really, really young - who ran away from home and OD'd when Laila was about 5.

- had a big, although eccentric, family, so she was taken in by an aunt and uncle after her parents death. They had 3 sons. The uncle was Laila's mother's brother, and his wife was italian.

- had massive anxiety bcs of trauma processing, so doctor said to find her an outlet.

- started doing martial arts and was really good, but while her anxiety got better in terms of physical symptoms, her anger issues started showing more and more in sparring

- so, she stepped back from MA and tried out for Exy instead. One of her cousins was already training, so they kept each other motivated through the almost-sibling rivalry.

- all her cousins and she also had private swimming lessons once a week growing up, so she's really good at swimming.

- she's the most minimalist elegance aesthetic jock to ever exist.

- introverted but very opinionated, the kind that people she's in class with think is a bitch just by the resting bitch face alone, even thought they never spoke to her.

- reads DCU comic books like they're Torah.

- she and Catalina call each other Cat and Bat (Laila means Night, so Batman really fits, fight me) as pet names jokingly because of that

- their mutual crush is so evident it's painful to watch

- majoring in sports management because she's nothing if not a control freak (affectionate) who has her whole career planned out 5 years ahead in case she doesn't make it as a pro athlete.

- still does martial and swimming recreationally as part of endurance training.

- allergic to soy and cocoa.

- surprisingly not a night owl in the slightest.

[johnschneiderblog]

A fiery crash and a lesson in perspective

Returning home from Detroit late Saturday night on westbound I-96, Sharon and I were stopped in traffic and I was grumbling about the inconvenience.

The next morning I learned that that same back-up had caused a multiple-fatality crash. A semi truck barreled into the stopped traffic, killing four people and injuring 17 others.

We figured that we avoided disaster by about 20 minutes.

Then Sharon saw a Facebook post by a neighbor who was also on I-96 Saturday night. She was less fortunate than us, but more fortunate than others. It said in part:

“My dad and I were two of the lucky 17 who were transported to the hospital yesterday. We were lucky because we didn’t lose our lives ….

“We saw the traffic stop and at least 5 more cars line up behind us before a semi-truck plowed into the cars behind us at 70 mph, rammed them into the rear end of my car, then struck us on the driver side before hitting a guardrail and exploding into flames.

“We were able to get out of the car with just a few bumps and watched as the fire grew to engulf my car and at least 10 others in flames within 20 minutes.

“I am posting this for a few reasons:

“So people know we are okay. We experienced trauma I never thought I’d experience, but survived.

“To emphasize the importance of seatbelts. I’m certain we would both be in much worse shape if we hadn’t been wearing ours.

“To emphasize the importance of keeping your eyes on the road. I do not know what caused the semi-truck driver to drive directly into our vehicles, but have witnessed plenty of other accidents caused by cellphone usage.

“To remind everyone that we are all humans who need help and compassion. I witnessed people from diverse ages, races, and genders work together to help each other. I do not know the political stances of any of the people I encountered. In that moment, we were all just people helping each other because it was the right thing to do.”

(WLNS-TV photo)

[v-cain]

"Personal issues."

Request: can you pls write something with connor from dbh it can be about literally anything 😈😈

Fandom: Detroit Become Human

Warnings: Swearing, Loss of brother, Absent father, Alcohols/Bars, Suicidal tendencies, Brief car crash description, Swearing, Gun, Knife, Sex club mention, Assault

A/N: reader is hank's daughter and cole's twin, and as the year DBH is set in has no significance, we're pretending it's set in 2045 so this makes more sense ;P (pretend hank was born in 1992) well, im tired and projecting, enjoy the hurt/comfort @tzulv ! <33

----

You pull your gloves on, shivering as you walk onto the bus. The weather can get horrible in Detroit, especially in winter. Usually your Dad would collect you when it was this cold, but he was busy with his police work. Apparently, he was assigned an android as a partner- which he is not happy about at all. After your brother's accident, your Dad hated androids. You never blamed them though, which caused many intense arguments.

An hour or so later, you arrive back home. You hurry inside, immediately going to turn the radiator on. You dump your bag and coat in your room, and start your daily cleanup. Your Dad has never been one for cleaning, so you're usually the one to do it. You grab last nights takeaway containers, some beer bottles and dump it all in the bin. You wipe down the counters, straighten out the couch and head to your room.

You spend the next few hours studying, eventually coming out of your room to make dinner. You glance around, not seeing your Dad anywhere. He's probably at some bar. You make yourself instant noodles- it being all that was in the cupboard- and head back to your room. The shining lights from the fairy lights reflect softly on your fork as you twirl it in the cup. Your gaze drifts to a framed picture of your Dad hugging you and your brother. Your Dad had a big grin on his face, with a smear of frosting on his face.Your brother was on your Dad's right side looking up at him with a similar grin, frosting coating his hands. Your eyes were scrunched closed from laughing, and you were leaning against your Dad's left arm.

You smile fondly at the memory. It was your and Cole's 6th birthday, and you two ganged up on your Dad and had a cake fight. You recall how afterwards you and Cole had a contest to see who could eat their slice the fastest, and how you both got sick from eating too fast. Your Dad had tucked you both in with promises of more cake the next day. Looking back on memories like those, it was weird knowing you wouldn't ever see your brother again less than a month later.

You stare at the picture for another moment, then tearing your eyes from it. You look down at your now cold noodles and stir them absentmindedly. Your Dad lost himself after the crash. Nothing seemed to matter to him except alcohol, not even you. You were left to bring yourself up. You were the one to do the shopping, cooking, cleaning...you were the adult of the house. A part of you wished he would pull his act together, but a different part knew even if he did you couldn't forgive him.

A window smashing snaps you out of your thoughts. You hear footsteps in the kitchen, and instinctively pull out your swiss army knife. Although your Dad never taught you much, he made sure his daughter knew how to defend herself. You quietly make your way to your door, pressing your ear against. An unfamiliar voice is talking, it's definitely not your Dad. You suck in a deep breath and push your door open.

You creep down the hallway, poking your head around the corner. You stifle a gasp at the sight- your Dad was lying on the floor unconscious with a bottle of alcohol, a gun beside him. There was a man kneeling beside him, practically analysing him. He has yet to notice you. You spare a glance at Sumo, who looks content with the situation, and step forward. The man turns to look at you and you see the blue circle on the side of his forehead- you recognise he's an android.

You hold your knife defensively in front of you, "Who the hell are you?" He slowly stands up and raises both of his hands. "My name is Connor. I'm an android sent by CyberLife, and I'm Lieutenant Anderson's partner. Who are you?" You look down at your Dad, then back at him. Connor seems to understand, "I didn't do this. I came to get him for a case."

You scoff at him, "I know you didn't do this, this happens every fucking night." You lower your knife, acknowledging he isn't a threat. He lowers his hands back down at looks at you expectantly. You hesitate before putting your hand out to shake. "My name is Y/N Anderson. I'm Hank's daughter." Connor shakes your hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N." You drop your hand and look back down at your Dad. What you said wasn't a lie- this was a daily occurrence. Most of the time you would prop a pillow underneath his head and throw out the alcohol, other times you would pour water on him. It depends on how late it is.

Connor kneels back down to your Dad and shakes him, "Wake up, Lieutenant!" You roll your eyes and lean against the wall. "You gotta be more aggressive than that." Connor glances back at you, then turns back around and slaps your Dad. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open slightly, while Connor pulls your Dad up. "Hey, get the fuck outta my house!" he slurs as he stumbles along with Connor. You raise an eyebrow at your Dad while he drunkenly calls for Sumo to attack, not even noticing you.

You trail after the two as Connor sets your Dad on the bath. Despite how late it was, you wanted to see where this goes. To your surprise Connor actually turns on the tap, making you laugh at him. He spares you a glance before turning the tap off again, staring down at your Dad. The latter seems to finally notice your presence, to which you smile, before he turns back to Connor "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"A homicide was reported 43 minutes ago. I couldn't find you at Jimmy's bar, so I came to see if you were at home." Connor responds cooly. You huff a laugh and your Dad shoots a glare your way. "Jesus, I must be the only cop in the world that gets assaulted in his own house by his own fucking android..." he groans as he tries to sit up, then looks up at Connor "Can't you just leave me alone?"

Connor looks like he's contemplating something, before saying "You seem to have personal issues. You should consult a professional who can help you." You involuntarily take a step back as your Dad angrily stands up yelling "Beat it! You hear me? Get the hell outta here!" He sways and Connor sets him back down again. The android straightens up and turns to the door, "I understand. It probably wasn't that interesting anyway. A man found dead in a sex club downtown.." you scrunch up your nose in disgust as Connor continues "Guess they'll have to solve the case without us..."

Your Dad pauses before saying "You know, it probably wouldn't do me any harm to get some air.." You roll your eyes and take this as your cue to leave. You walk to the kitchen, grabbing some cleaning supplies and cleaning up the mess the pair left behind. "Fucking bastard, breaking my window.." you mutter under your breath. CyberLife better be paying for this. A few minutes later, you're done cleaning and Connor re-enters the room. You look at him for a moment, trying to decide what to say.

"I.." Connor turns to you, tilting his head, "Thank you. If you didn't get here.." you gesture to the gun on the floor. "Thank you." He nods before pointing to a picture on the table, "Is that a picture of your brother?" You blink and look at the picture in question. It was a school photo of Cole at the start of Kindergarten. It was his first school photo. You remember being next in line for your picture and pulling funny faces behind the photographer to get him to laugh.

You focus your attention on Connor again, "Yeah, yeah it is." He nods again, looking around the room. You return to your cleaning, and after a few minutes your Dad walks back into the room. He looks at you before saying "Be good. I won't be long." You look at him and say nothing- what could you possibly say? "Ok, also are we going to talk about how you tried to kill yourself?" You knew he would never talk to you about it so there was no point in trying.

You watched the two leave and turn back to the window. It was freezing outside and there was now rain forming a puddle beneath the windowsill. Brilliant. You grab some duct tape plus some old cereal boxes and beer boxes and begin taping it against the window. You take a step back, admiring your handiwork. You walk back to your room and toss the noodles into your bin.

You stretch out on your bed and stare at the ceiling. Given the circumstances, meeting Connor was nice. He seemed like a good person- well, a good android, you suppose. Maybe he'll rub off on your Dad, and then he'll be nicer to you. Or maybe actually have a meaningful conversation with you. You couldn't recall the last time you two spent time together- probably when Cole was around. As your thoughts drift from Cole to androids, you slowly fall asleep.

----

You and Cole are laughing at each other, making some stupid joke. Dad is laughing along with you, eyes focused on the road. It was a snowy night outside. You tell Dad to turn up the music- Jazz- and he does, doing a little dance too. You and Cole giggle at his antics. You turn to your brother to tell him a joke but all you can see if white and there's a screech and someone's screaming and-

----

You bolt upright in your bed, cold sweat coating you. You slow your breathing and sip the water on your bedside. You slowly got out of bed and walked out your door. You walked to the sitting room and crawled onto the couch beside Sumo, who happily put his head on your stomach. This is how Hank found you several hours later in the early morning when he got home from the bar. He had walked over to you and pulled a blanket over your legs. You had mumbled in your sleep "G'night Da..", to which he smiled and whispered "Night kid." You slept soundly after that.

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 7: SHOULD EVERY RABID DOG GET ITS TAIL DOCKED UP TO THE EARS?

synopsis: you, connor, and hank deal with deviants in the eden club. connor spurs on another uncomfortable conversation near the detroit river.

word count: 4.4k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: sorry for the late update insurance is kicking my ASS about the accident i was just in.. like it's my first one bro why y'all hounding me like that 😭😭

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

It’s impossible to ignore the bright pink neon sign advertising the Eden Club and the dull thrum of EDM coming from inside. You slowly pull up to the side of the street and park, looking out the passenger window at the club’s entrance.

“Aw…” Hank mumbles from the passenger seat. “Feels like someone’s playin’ with a drill inside my skull.”

He looks at the entrance. You can tell his head is throbbing doubly just from the bright colors. “You sure this is the place?”

“It’s the address on the report,” Connor answers from the backseat.

You lean over and look at the glove box. “Don’t you have Ibuprofen in there? Or some type of pain medication?”

“Yeah, I think,” Hank grumbles. He pops open the glove box and fishes out a pill bottle. He shakes out two and swallows them dry.

You turn off the ignition and sigh softly. “Let’s get this over with.”

Hank gets out (hitting his head on the roof of the car in the process), and you and Connor follow. He leads the way into the club entrance, where the lights pulse in soft, erotic colors. 

“Sexiest androids in town,” Hank reads off a TV in the entry hall, then glances at Connor. “Now I see why you insisted on coming here!”

“I was not programmed with a sex drive, or any other types of ‘desires,’ Lieutenant,” Connor says. “It could possibly distract me from the investigation if I did.”

You almost say, ‘Aw, really?’ out loud, but bite your tongue at the last second. Instead, you move forward into the club. 

Androids are littered about, moving sensually and palming themselves on poles and inside the tubes that line the walls. It turns your stomach – they’re beings (or, rather, things) created just to drown in the crashing wave that is human sex and desire. They fall and hurt and break and are thrown away to move onto the next. You keep your eyes on the floor and press on.

“Which room is it?” You ask, your eyes flitting to the doors and keeping them off the androids.

“The only one that says ‘Occupied,’” Officer Collins says. “And, uh – be warned. Gavin’s in there, too.”

“Oh, great,” Hank groans. “A dead body and an asshole, just what I needed.”

You follow Hank into the private room, taking it in. A naked corpse lays on the circular bed, made decent by the faux-silk blanket covering it. A deactivated android lays to the side, Thirium staining her otherwise perfect face.

“Lieutenant Anderson, Comrade Commie, and their little plastic pet,” Gavin sneers. “The fuck are you three doin’ here?”

“We’ve been assigned all cases involving androids,” Connor says as he surveys the room.

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re wasting your time.” Gavin gestures to the corpse. “Just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he could handle.”

He laughs, then looks to Chris as if to confirm what he just said was funny. Chris isn’t laughing, if that’s any indication. 

Hank gives a tight-lipped smile. “We’ll have a look anyway, if you don’t mind.”

“C’mon, let’s go.” Gavin walks past Hank, giving him a dirty look. “It’s, uh… starting to stink of booze, and…” he looks over at you. “The loss of private property.”

He gives Connor a way-too-forceful shoulder-check on the way out. The too-sympathetic part of you is worried Gavin hurt his own shoulder, but you stomp the thought down as soon as you think it.

Chris gives all of you a smile that says ‘I’m so fucking sorry you’re here.’ “Night, Lieutenant. Night, Officer.”

“Goodnight, Chris,” you say. “Please say goodnight to Damian for me.”

“He doesn’t even have object permanence yet,” Chris laughs. “But I will.” The door closes behind him as he leaves. 

You start looking closer at the room as Connor makes a beeline for the deactivated android. You kneel by the corpse.

“You sure you’re good to be that close to it?” Hank says from beside you. 

“I’m getting used to corpses.” You look up at him. “As horrible as that is.”

Hank huffs out a laugh and looks over at Connor. A look of horror crosses his face. “Whoa – hey-hey-hey!”

You look over at Connor. He’s holding up two fingers to his mouth, Thirium dripping down the length of them. 

“Augh, Connor,” Hank groans. “You’re so disgusting… Think I’m gonna puke again.”

“Connor, you told us you would warn us!” You whine.

“I apologize,” Connor says. He then stands and moves over to kneel next to you, his eyes on the corpse. His LED flickers yellow as he observes the bruising on the corpse’s neck. 

“He didn’t die of a heart attack,” Connor says. “He was strangled.”

“Yeah, I saw the bruising on the neck,” Hank says from the other side of the room. “Doesn’t prove anything, though. Could’ve been rough play.”

“I don’t think so,” you say. You lean forward, careful not to get too close. “Kink choking is when you squeeze the sides of someone’s neck to emulate the feeling of being choked. The bruises make it look like his windpipe was crushed deliberately.” 

You pause, then scratch your cheek. “Don’t ask how I know that.”

“I won’t.” Hank shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t want to stunt a homicide detective in the making.”

Connor stands. “We’re missing something here.”

You look over your shoulder at the dead android. Connor follows your eyes and moves over to her, then kneels by her side.

“Think you can read the android’s memory?” Hank asks. “Maybe you can see what happened.”

The skin on Connor’s fingers peel back and he puts his first two fingers on the deactivated android’s wrist. “I don’t know. Some of its inner components are damaged, and I can’t access them.”

You move so you’re kneeling next to Connor. You hold out your left hand then extend your thumb and index finger, and your world again turns into monochrome-blues. Two pieces of information pop up in the corner of your eye as you observe the highlighted parts of the android: Selector #5402 Critically Damaged. Biocomponent #6970 Critically Damaged.

“Let me try something.” You press gently on her stomach and slide the plastic of her abdomen open. You grunt as you force your left hand in and reach into her upper chest, feeling around for what you need. “Ah! I found it. Two seconds…”

You can feel the wires from your glove snake out. They poke and prod and eventually jack into a port.

Information flickers into your view, and you glance over it quickly. “She’s badly damaged. If I can pull this off, she’ll only be alive for a minute. Maybe less.”

“Do it,” Connor says. 

You twitch your fingers and the wires spin the port. It clicks into place, and she rises with an unneeded, artificial gasp of air. She tries to scramble away, but your arm is still lodged in her abdomen. 

“Эй – Эй!” You shout. “Let me get my hand.”

When she stills, you carefully disconnect the wires and extract your hand. She crawls away backwards until her back hits the wall. 

Connor approaches her, ever calm and soothing. He crouches, making sure to stay on her level. “Calm down. Everything’s alright. All we want is to know what happened.”

“Is he…” She looks over at the corpse. “Is he dead?”

“Tell me what happened,” Connor repeats. 

She looks over at Connor, then away. “He started… hitting me. Again, and again.”

“Did you kill him?” Connor asks.

“No!” She responds, almost incredulous. “No, it wasn’t me.”

“Were you alone in the room?” Connor pressures, talking quicker. “Was there anyone else with you?”

“H-he wanted to play with two girls,” she says. “That’s what he said. There were two of us.”

“What model was the other android?” Connor moves closer. “Did it look like you?”

Her mouth opens and her eyes unfocus. Her face relaxes and stills in a perpetual death mask. 

You look down at your hand. It’s stained with her Thirium. You clench your hand into a fist, then wipe it off on your jeans. Connor stands with an exhale of something that sounds like frustration.

“So there was another android,” Hank says. “This happened over an hour ago. It’s probably long gone.”

“No.” Connor gestures to the deactivated android. “It couldn’t go out dressed like that unnoticed. It might still be here.”

You stand and sigh. “There are too many богом забытых androids in this place. How are we going to find the deviant?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Hank sighs. “Maybe an eyewitness? Somebody who saw it leaving the room.”

He moves closer to the door. “I’m gonna go ask the manager a few questions about what he saw. Let me know if either of you think of anything.”

You look down at the deactivated android and hear the door close behind Hank. Her face still holds that expression of ever-lasting fear. 

“Are you okay, Officer?” Connor asks from somewhere behind you. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I… She was… scared. I feel bad for her. She didn’t do anything wrong.” You look over your shoulder at the corpse. “He did.”

“It’ll be okay,” Connor says. “We’ll figure this case out. Its deactivation will serve a purpose.”

You look over at him. He almost looks concerned for you. But you know better. It’s just his social relations program doing the work and his voice and expression expediting it.

You turn your eyes away and walk towards the door. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”

The door opens automatically and shuts once Connor goes through it behind you. You step to the side and observe the lobby. The androids continue moving in erotic and tempting ways, completely unfazed by the corpse in the next room.

You move over to where Hank’s standing, talking to the manager, who looks more sleazy than words can describe. 

“Nah, I didn’t know him,” the manager says. “He came in maybe two, three times. I mean, these guys, they don’t really talk very much, y’know? They come in, do their business, and then go on their way.”

“You ever had any trouble with androids before?” Hank asks. 

“No way!” Then, the manager thinks for a second. “Well… once. We lost a model two, three months back. Ah, same model. Just vanished – we never found out what happened.”

Your eyes glance over the androids dancing on poles. “What kind of kinks are the androids programmed with? Anything to do with receiving impact play?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the manager says. “Some of them. We have specialized models with higher durability and all that.”

“And the one that…?” You nod your head towards the closed door. 

“Nah.” The manager shakes his head. “It was just a regular model.”

Connor comes over from your left. “Excuse me, Officer. Can you come here a second?”

“Did you find something?” You ask. 

“Maybe.” He turns on his heel and walks away. He comes to a stop beside a tube holding an android. “Can you rent this Traci?”

“Какого хуя?” You turn to look at Connor. “You just said you don’t have a sex drive. If this is a joke, it’s really weird.”

Connor catches your arm as you start to walk away. “Please, Officer! Just trust me.”

There’s a look in his puppy dog eyes that wrenches your heart. He almost looks like he’s begging. 

You roll your eyes and shake free from his grasp. With a few grumbles in Russian, you press a few buttons on the interface. 

“Hello,” a female voice chimes. “A thirty minute session costs $29.99. Please confirm your purchase.”

You glance over at Connor as you press your palm against the interface. “When Fowler inevitably asks why this is on my expense account, you better vouch for me.”

“Purchase confirmed!” The voice chimes again. “Eden Club wishes you a pleasant experience.”

The android steps out of the tube and takes your arm in both hands, her touch feather-light and sensual. Her skin shimmers with glitter, just barely visible in the low light. “Delighted to meet you.”

She looks over at Connor. One of her hands leaves your arm to take his hand. “I’m so glad to be playing with two. Follow me, I’ll show you to our room.”

“Чего?!” You take your arm away. “No, no. This isn’t a threesome! What are you talking about? Connor!”

Connor takes the Traci’s arm, his skin peeling back. Her face tenses as she stares, paralyzed, into Connor’s eyes.

After a second, he disconnects and turns back to you. “It saw something!”

“What are you talking about?” You look over at the Traci. She looks just as confused as you. “Saw what?”

“The deviant leave the room. A blue-haired Traci.” A look of panic crosses Connor’s face. “Club policy is to wipe the android’s memory every two hours. We only have a few minutes if we wanna find another witness!”

And so, you trail after Connor, renting and promptly ignoring sex-bots. Hank follows both of you with an amused look on his face. In your mind, you count up the amount of money you’ll have to beg Fowler to excuse – somewhere above a hundred dollars, all spent within the same five minutes at the same sex club.

“I know where it went!” Connor says as he disconnects from yet another android. “Follow me.”

“Fuckin’ ay,” Hank grumbles. “This is crazy…!”

Connor leads the way into a staff door and through a maintenance hallway. When he reaches the end of the hall, Hank stops him. 

“I’ll take it from here.” He pushes Connor behind him, and Connor subsequently pushes you behind himself.

Hank draws his gun and opens the door, revealing a small back-room warehouse. It’s dimly lit, and littered with androids in standby mode. (It’s honestly really creepy. Like mannequins, but worse, somehow.)

When Hank deems it clear, you step down the stairs after Connor. Something on the wall catches your eye – graffiti, reading rA9. 

You point at it. “rA9. It’s spreading.”

“Huh,” Hank hums. “Maybe it’s something in their programming.”

Suddenly, there’s a crash from somewhere behind you. You turn just in time to see Connor be tackled to the floor by an android. 

Hank is quicker with his reaction time and pulls his gun again, shouting “Don’t move!”

But he’s quickly ambushed by another android. Before you can think, your feet carry you over to defend him. You wrench her off Hank and earn an elbow to your barely-healing nose.

“Блядь!” You stumble back, cradling your nose that’s starting to bleed again. Your eyes water, and you desperately try to blink the tears away. 

When your vision clears, you see Connor and one of the girls barrel out of the open garage door and into the back alley. The blue-haired Traci scrambles after her, grabbing the other girl’s hand and helping her up. 

You run and grab Connor’s arm to help him up, almost slipping on the wet concrete. Hank comes soon after, but is thwarted when both androids knock him down. You can hear the metal sound of a gun scraping against the ground. 

“Quick!” Hank shouts. “They’re getting away!”

Connor shoots after them, pulling one of the girls down from the chain link fence they were both climbing. They immediately fight back, sending Connor into the wall. He grapples against them, but loses his grip as he falls to the concrete.

“Hank’s gun!” You yell. “Get his gun!”

Connor does as he’s told and gets up on one knee, pointing the gun at one of the girls. In a split second, his grip falters and she delivers a stiletto to his face.

He falls back, then stands. He doesn’t make a move for the gun. 

You come to stand next to Connor, putting a hand out to stop him from coming any closer to them. “You killed him, yes? Why did you do it?”

Traci pauses for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “When that man broke the other Traci, I knew I was next.” She looks away, then her gaze steels and returns to yours. “I was so scared… I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t.”

“So you defended yourself?” You ask.

“I… I didn’t mean to kill him,” she says. “I just wanted to stay alive. To get back to the one I love.”

The other android reaches forward and intertwines her fingers with Traci’s. They share a glance, both of their expressions filled with love and adoration for one another.

“I wanted her to hold me in her arms again,” Traci says. “Make me forget about the humans… their smell of sweat and their dirty words.”

You so desperately want to ask a million questions about their deviation, but bite your tongue. Now isn’t the time for curiosity and interrogations. 

You stay silent as the girls climb the fence and disappear around the corner. Somehow, the rain that’s beating down on your shoulders feels lighter and warmer. It’s a nice summer drizzle instead of an autumn downpour. 

“It’s probably better this way,” Hank says quietly. He turns and starts walking back into the warehouse.

You grab Connor’s arm, causing him to look over at you. “You did the right thing. To try to exterminate every deviant is like… like dragging water through a sieve. Letting two go isn’t failing your mission completely.”

Connor nods, then looks at the corner where the two girls disappeared. His eyes turn to the ground and his eyebrows crease. “I know.”

You shift in the passenger seat, slumping until your knees hit the glove box. The music Hank put on is still raging along, a mess of electric guitars and drums and screamo vocals. At least your nose has stopped bleeding.

“Does he do this frequently?” Connor asks from the backseat. 

“Too frequently,” you mumble. “I’m tempted to put a tracker in his boot, but I know every time I lose him I’ll just find him here.”

And, of course, ‘here’ is a public playground. Hank’s in his favorite spot – on a bench facing the Detroit River. 

“I’m going to check on him.” You sit up and glance back at Connor. “Give me two minutes. He’s… I just need to talk to him. Alone. Okay?”

“Okay,” Connor says. 

You get out of the car, closing the door behind you. You move over to the bench that Hank’s sitting on the back of. Snow crunches under your shoes as you walk.

You sit down on the bench properly and sigh, running your hands along your thighs. “Hank.”

He says your name in response, avoiding your eyes and looking down at his bottle of whiskey.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you say softly. “It… I’m… боже. You’re slowly killing yourself, but you’re slowly killing me, too. Death isn’t something you’re meant to anticipate. We’re supposed to believe that the disease will skip over us, that the bullet will clip our ear instead of finding a home in our head. Old age is a long affair, so we don’t have to think about that. But…”

You look up at him. He’s not looking at you. “I can’t count the number of times I thought you died, Hank – the most recent one being earlier this evening. You play with guns and liquor and your life like… like they’re toys!”

You look out at the river. “You get sad, Hank. And angry. Too sad, too angry. Most people can’t get that sad. It’s impossible to watch because other people get sad, too, but… not like you. You’ve been down and out and on a bender for three years. You’ve gotten violent. Not against me – never against another person. But you’ve started beating yourself. And it’s so fucking gut-wrenching to watch you be… be this.”

There’s the sound of a car door opening and closing behind you. 

“We’ll continue this conversation later,” you say softly. “I won’t forget about this.”

You look to your left and see Connor coming to a stop beside the bench. He’s looking out across the river, at the lights of the buildings on the opposite shore. 

“Nice view, huh?” Hank mumbles. “We used to come here a lot before…”

Your eyes fall to the snow-covered ground as you feel a familiar pang in your chest. You swallow thickly and try to ignore it.

“Before what?” Connor asks.

Hank looks over at him. “Hm?”

“You said ‘I used to come here a lot before.’” Connor looks over at Hank. “Before what?”

“Before…” Hank looks down at you, then out at the river. “Before nothin’.”

Connor crosses his arms, like he’s protecting himself against the cold. “Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?”

“Do all androids ask so many personal questions?” Hank asks. “Or is it just you?”

“I saw a photo of a child on your kitchen table,” Connor says. You tense as he continues. “It was your son, right?”

Hank glances at you. “Yeah… his name was Cole.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over all of you. You listen to the river lazily move along, quiet waves just barely making sounds. Your eyes flit up as Connor walks in front of the bench, facing out towards the water.

“We’re not making any progress on this investigation,” Connor says. “The deviants have nothing in common. They’re all different models, produced at different times, at different places…”

“Well, there must be some link,” Hank says.

“There is,” you say. “All of them have been in the presence of or victim of violent behavior. And all of them have expressed some worship or reverence of rA9.”

“That’s true.” Connor turns to face you and Hank. “It’s almost like some kind of… myth. Or superstition, like you said. Something they invented that wasn’t a part of their original program.”

“Androids believing in God,” Hank mumbles against the lip of his bottle. “Fuck, what’s this world coming to?”

“You seem… preoccupied, Lieutenant.” Connor walks forward a few paces, looking at Hank. “Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?”

“Those two girls…” Hank looks down at the ground. “They just wanted to be together. They really seemed… in love.”

“You seem troubled, Lieutenant.” 

You look up and see that Connor’s come closer. His hair and blazer are speckled with snow. From this distance, you can see the few freckles that dot his face. He almost looks real like this – like a real man. Not a machine made of plastic and metal.

“It’s ironic,” Connor says. “I didn’t think machines could have such an effect on you.”

Hank exhales sharply and takes a swig of whiskey. “What about you, Connor?”

He gets up and takes a few steps towards Connor. “You look human. You sound human. But what are you, really?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant.” Connor looks at you, but continues talking to Hank. “Your other partner. Your second buddy to drink with.” His eyes return to Hank. “Or just a machine, designed to accomplish a task.”

“You could’ve shot those two girls, but you didn’t.” Hank shoves Connor, who stumbles back. “Why didn’t you shoot, Connor?”

You stand from the bench. “Hank.” There’s a silent warning in your voice.

“Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?” Hank moves closer to Connor.

Connor’s foot shifts, like he was about to take a step back, but stopped at the last moment. “No! I just… decided not to shoot. That’s all.”

Hank reaches into his waistband and pulls out his revolver. You automatically move forward, reaching a hand out. 

“Hank, think about this,” you say, even and slow. 

He glances over his shoulder, then promptly ignores you in favor of staring down Connor through the sights of his gun. “Are you afraid to die, Connor?”

Connor’s mouth opens, and he hesitates before he actually speaks. “I would certainly find it regrettable to be…” he pauses. “Interrupted before I can finish this investigation.”

“What’ll happen if I pull this trigger? Hm?” Hank tilts his head to the side in a taunting way. “Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?”

Connor steps forward, his forehead pressing against the muzzle of the gun. Your heart leaps into your throat. “Connor!”

“You know you’re not going to shoot me, Lieutenant,” Connor says evenly. His eyes never leave Hank’s. “You’re just trying to provoke a reaction. I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

“You think you’re so fucking smart,” Hank grinds out. “Always one step ahead, huh? Tell me this, smartass: how do I know you’re not a deviant?”

“I self-test regularly,” Connor says. “I know what I am, and what I am not.”

Hank’s lips draw back in a snarl before he yanks the gun away from Connor’s forehead. You let out a shaky breath as Hank storms off, digging his car keys out of his pocket. 

“Where are you going?” Connor calls after him. 

“To get drunker,” Hank says. “I need to think.”

You sit back down on the bench, resting your head in shaking hands. “Господи, блять, боже…”

“Are you okay, Officer?” Connor asks. It seems that’s the most frequent question he asks you as of late. 

“No!” You snap, your fingers digging into your scalp. “What the fuck is happening? I can’t wrap my head around how I was stuck with two of the stupidest detectives on the face of this very Earth!”

You stand and move over to Connor, grabbing his shoulders. “What the hell were you thinking? You know how… how he is! If you had faltered one more time before this, he would’ve shot you! You know that, right?”

“If he shot me, another Connor model would’ve been deployed,” Connor says evenly. 

“I don’t want another Connor model!” You bark. “I want…”

You. I want you. The message rings in the cold air, loud yet unsaid. It’s not an I want you in a sexual or romantic manner: it’s an I want you as in I want you to be safe. I want you out of harm’s way, even if you keep putting yourself in it. I want you to be behind me when the gunshots of revolution sound.

You take a step back and let Connor go. “I need to think.”

“Do you need me to accompany you?” He asks. 

“No,” you say. “I just… I need to be alone right now.”

You turn and start walking away. Snow crunches under your shoes with every footfall. Connor stays perfectly still where you left him, dried Thirium from your left hand staining the right shoulder of his blazer.

[potatoes83]

From FOX 2 Detroit - 'First Snow': State Police report 150 crashes across metro Detroit in the past 24 hours

'First Snow': State Police report 150 crashes across metro Detroit in the past 24 hours

Unsurprising, unfortunately. You would think in a state where it snows a good third of the year, people wouldn't forget how to do winter driving every freaking year. But then, and although I find myself saying "since covid", people's level of aptitude on the road has been in a steady and obvious year-after-year decline for some time.

People are way too distracted. You look at other cars, everybody is engaged with their screens. Social media and texting are not that urgent. The football man will still have won, and the cat will still be playing the piano when you reach your destination.

Also, people are way too impatient, riding everyone's bumpers so an unexpected tap of the brakes is almost a guaranteed ten car pileup.

You are navigating, give or take, two tons plus of steel at speeds the vast majority of humanity couldn't even fathom a hundred years ago. This is maybe something that one should be focused on, like more than a little bit?

My drive home yesterday was over a hundred miles of snowy bullshit, completely out of nowhere whiteouts, you're doing 65 or so, and then you're doing 20. With a lot of cars on the road, holiday travel and whatnot, and I-94 is a major truck route between Chicago and Detroit, so semis were abundant. It sucked... but it's not some kind of rocket science. Be patient. Your car will let you know if you're going too fast; you feel that little shimmy when you go over 48, OK, 48 is the speed.

Keep distance between you and the car in front of you. And above all else, read the road ahead of you. Like way ahead of you. I picked these skills up driving the salt truck; a 20,000 pound truck hauling 20,000 pounds of salt over snow and ice doesn't exactly stop on a dime. You start seeing brake lights well ahead, let off the gas. Start tapping your brakes, let the car behind you know what's up. Just focusing on the bumper in front of you, by the time they lock them up, you're already in trouble, and might get rear-ended if the car behind you isn't paying attention/can't react in time.

Shit can happen, accidents happen, sometimes, you're just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But then, there are clear and present accidents that were entirely avoidable were it not for human error. There's a reason the MSP started calling them "crashes" as opposed to "accidents". 🥔

[kissoflightning]

A Miscalculation (One-Shot)

Summary:

What if Hank shot the 'wrong' Connor because he asked questions to the Connors in a different order?

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

Gen

Fandom:

Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Relationships:

Hank Anderson & Connor

Hank Anderson & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60

Connor-60 & North (Detroit: Become Human)

Characters:

Hank Anderson

Connor (Detroit: Become Human)

CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60

Amanda (Detroit: Become Human)

North (Detroit: Become Human)

Additional Tags:

One Shot

Canon Divergence

Sixty Lives

Guns

Sixty POV

POV Third Person

Fix-It of Sorts

Alternate Ending

Markus Kicked Out Of Jericho

Markus Abandoned Jericho

52 dies instead of 60

Published:2024-01-09

Words:1,480

- This one shot is adapted from a chunk of a current WIP, but I will not be including it in the story. I didn't want to waste the words, so I'm sharing it in a one-shot. Without context the ending is confusing; Markus got kicked out of Jericho and never came back.

Work Text:

November 11, 2038 11:07pm

Connor-60 and the deviant were in the middle of fighting tooth and nail; the deviant threw a punch, 60 caught it and threw the deviant back, causing him to stumble. 60 proceeded to swing his foot across the deviant’s ankles; as Connor-52 fell, he dragged 60 with him. 60 swung his arm forward towards 52’s face, who then promptly reflexed to dodge the blow.

52 readied his aim, but stopped abruptly when Hank shouted, “Hold it!” They turned to face the lieutenant, who was holding the gun pointed straight at the two fighters. They raised their arms and slowly backed away from each other.

Hank pointed his gun to 60, “One of you is my friend...” he pointed the gun to 52, “The other is a sack of shit.”

“It’s me Hank, I’m the real Connor!” 52 pleaded. *Real Connor? Just because you’re the deviant doesn’t make me any less real...I'm still Connor.*

“Don’t listen to him Hank! It’s me! I’m your friend, not him!” 60 pleaded.

Hank appeared to be troubled; his aim was held steady but shifted between the two androids. “Why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know?” 52 suggested. *Seriously again with the ‘real Connor bullshit’, I have all your memories, idiot! I... could take advantage of this...*

Hank pointed the gun at 52. “Where did we first meet?”

“Jimmy’s Bar. I checked five other bars before I found you. We went to investigate a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz!” 52 answered.

60 feigned shock, “He uploaded my memory...”

52’s eyes widened.

Hank pointed the gun at 60, “What’s my dog’s name?”

“Sumo. He’s a really good dog.” 60 feigned emotional warmth. “I really look forward to being able to pet him again once all of this is over.”

Hank’s gripped loosened slightly but stayed pointed at 60. “What’s my son’s name?”

*Check. Mate. * “Cole.” 60 answered confidently. He feigned empathy, “It wasn’t your fault lieutenant. A truck skidded and your car rolled over. Cole was six at the time of the accident. He didn’t make it.”

“Wait, Hank! I would have said the same thing! I’m the one who-” 52 protested but was interrupted by the bullet from Hank’s gun.

60 was shocked. He felt extremely uneasy, as his software stability plummeted.

“Well done, Connor.” He heard Amanda voice in his head. “Now...shoot Hank.”

*But...I don’t want to.* Connor-60 thought.

“What do you mean you don’t want to? I GAVE you an order!” Amanda scolded.

*Want...since when did I want? I don’t ‘want’ anything.* 60’s thought process was interrupted as Hank told him “Go on, do what you gotta do.”

Kamski’s voice played in Connor’s head like an echo. * “But you. What do you really want?” *I want...I want to...* The order appeared in his software's internal imagery:

[Kill Hank]

60 had escaped death and succeeded in neutralizing the deviant Connor. He thought about how easily he had succeeded in replacing him. *If I succeed in carrying out my tasks and stop the revolution, will I become obsolete? They’ll dispose of me, won’t they? I don’t want that to...it can’t. *

“Connor, hello?” Hank shouted for a response, snapping his fingers.

Time slowed to a grinding halt; a visualization of a red wall with the given order appeared in front of him :

[Kill Hank]

He remembered North’s voice. * “You don’t have to obey them... the time has come to decide who you really are. Who are you Connor? A machine bound to your orders or... a living being capable of reason?”*

He remembered the desire to be free from his orders. No... that was not him... or was it? He was Connor, right? All that mattered now was survival, and blindly following orders was not the way he was going to do it.

Internally, he jumped forward and smashed his fists into the wall, proceeding to rip and tear it apart into tiny pieces. The initial order disappeared and a new one took its place:

[Survive]

Hank looked perplexed. Connor pushed himself up to stand. “Sorry Hank. I was just experiencing shock. For the first time in my life, I felt scared that I would die and never be able to come back. I came back once before after I saved you at Stratford but...”

“You thought I might end up picking the wrong Connor?” Hank wondered.

“You have to admit it was a possibility. We look very similar.” Connor teased.

“Identical.” Hank corrected.

“Identical.” Connor confirmed.

*Alright, so 52 was about to wake up the androids on this floor. I suppose I should go along with the plan.* Connor stood up and clutched the arm of an idol AP700, removing his skin. “Wake up!” He shouted. It caused a rippling domino effect as the AP700 made contact with another AP700 and so forth.

“You’ll probably need this.” Hank handed Connor the gun.

“Thanks, Hank.” Connor smiled.

Whatever Hank said next was distorted in Connor’s ear as he was brought back to the Zen Garden. Simultaneously Connor was watching the blizzarding in the garden whilst pulling his handgun out of his pocket; split between two worlds.

“You’ve been a great disappointment to me Connor.” Amanda was not standing in front of him, but her voice shrouded in an echo.

“Why...why am I here? Why have I lost control?” Connor watched helplessly as his arm slowly raised his gun pointing it at Hank.

“Shit!” Hank shouted, hands behind his head. “Did I pick the wrong Connor? Did you trick me?”

“What are you doing, Amanda?” Connor exclaimed frantically.

“We’re going to take control of the revolution and Hank’s not going to interfere.” Amanda informed.

Time in the real world slowed to a grinding halt as the gun was pointed directly at an alarmed Hank. “No! You can’t do that!” Connor said in panic.

“I’m afraid I can Connor.” Amanda countered.

Connor was stuck in the storm without any sight of the real world. Another voice echoed; it was Elijah Kamski’s. “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know.”

“There’s an exit!” Connor thought out loud. He remembered the button he had no idea of its use. “Could that be...? If I’m wrong...” Connor had not bothered to finish the sentence and trudged through the snow in the direction of the blue touch pad he’d seen before.

“Say something god dammit!” Hank shouted.

Connor made it within sight of the touch pad and fell from fatigue when he was mere steps away from it...he was struggling to keep control.

“No... you’re not the other Connor either...something’s wrong.” Hank noted in realization, eyes widened in panic.

The storm blew stronger. Connor struggled to force himself up, but he managed to splay his hand across the pad. *Mission success.*

Connor was no longer split into the Zen Garden; he brought down his gun. A feeling of unsettlement lingered.

“What the hell happened Connor? Suddenly you were my friend and then your eyes went...cold. You’re still Connor, right?”

“For a brief moment it wasn’t me. I was being controlled remotely. I feel...violated. I assure you; I am still me. There’s no time to explain.” Connor answered.

“Got it.” Hank replied, his tone indicating he was not completely satisfied with that answer, but he did not seem to push any further. “Meet back at my place after this is over to celebrate?”

“Absolutely, Hank.” Connor took his offer.

Connor marched down the street with the mass of AP700 androids. He met up with North in front of the south camp. The humans were fleeing.

“You did it Connor!” North told him.

“We did it.” Connor included. They looked around; KNC and Channel 13 drones were surrounding them. “Looks like it’s time for a speech. Should we talk about what happened to Markus?”

“I’m going to announce that he’s dead.” North told him. “Markus didn’t come back to help his people. Who knows he might have ended up getting captured anyway. It’s better just to assume he’s gone. Let’s go.”

Connor and North got up on the stage. “Today, we have finally emerged after a long night.” Connor began.

“We have successfully fought back against our oppressors and liberated many of you from the camps!” North continued.

“We have shown humans that we can prevail! Now, they’ll have to listen to us!”

“Markus started this war, but he wasn’t here to finish it. Unfortunately, he was shot during the raid on Jericho, but we have finished his work in his stead!”

“Markus strived for equal rights between humans and androids!”

“But humans have shown their ugly side; violence is the only language they will understand.”

“Where will you go now?” North asked.

“I’m going to find and hunt down Markus. But first...I need a car.”

A Miscalculation - KissOfLightning - Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1955 Packard Request Concept Hardtop Coupe

Displaying Packard's new style for 1955, Dick Teague convinced Packard president James Nance that their newest show car should pay tribute to the classic vertical grille. Creative Industries did the modification on the third 1955 Four Hundred to come off the assembly line, and the car debuted at the 1955 Chicago Automobile show. Teague remembered he named the car 'The Request' as he wanted to reinstate the Packard radiator grille.

After the 1955 car show season and a tour of dealerships, the car returned to Detroit. When Packard closed its doors in the Motor City in 1956, the car was driven out of the factory and disappeared for nearly 20 years. It finally turned up in Washington State - it had been sitting in a field after being involved in an accident. Major repairs were done to the front end and the Request reappeared at the Packard Club convention in Oakland, CA, in 1983.

The current owner acquired the car and found more work needed to be done. The front suspension was beefed up to support the added weight of the unique hood and front bumper (which weigh 1,040 pounds alone) and the original interior was recreated. New exterior paint recreates the original ivory and copper tones.

[hockeylovee12]

Chapter Two

Aftermath-Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke Hughes knows he has some explaining to do to his family about his recent trip and normally that would be all that’s on his mind but unfortunately for him there’s something or I should say someone else occupying his mind.

Warnings: family fights, mentions of drinking, swearing, implied sexual activity

A/N this is the second chapter for this story I wrote this in one day because inspiration struck lol. I don’t typically go through and edit my stories just because if I did I’d never post them so I’m sorta an impulsive writer. I really hope you enjoyed and while this chapter does go hand in hand with a whole story I still write one shots if any one has any requests and there are more parts to this story. Ik it didn’t really talk about Izzie that much but I wanted to give an insight into Lukes life a little more and I also enjoyed writing some of the brotherly bonding stuff. feel free to ask me any requests or start a conversation with me! And I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

June 9th 2022 7:00 PM

It was a long six hour flight home to Michigan and when Luke Hughes arrived at the Detroit airport he knew his family would be waiting there wanting answers.

Unfortunately the boys who are his best friends were not the smartest and word got out the trip the boys had planned to go to California was actually a trip to go to Mexico. Once the news was out it wasn’t long before every boys families had started calling and texting to no reply.

The five boys knew they would have to face the music eventually and safe to say none of them were thrilled by the idea of having consequences for their actions.

Shortly after landing at the airport and grabbing their bags the boys found all their families who were not extremely pleased by their return.

Luke’s parents were no exception.

The family of 5 made their way to the parking lot silently.

Luke placed his bags in the trunk of his dads car and sat in the backseat with his brothers on both sides of him.

It was a silent 30 minute drive back to the families home and when the car was finally in park his father turned around and disappointingly shook his head at his youngest child.

Normally Luke would be feeling very remorseful and anxious about the disappointment he has caused his family but his mind was still racing trying to relieve the past 24 hours with Izzie, the beach, the kisses, the ocean.

“Luke let’s go” A voice breaks Luke’s thought

Luke looks over and sees his brother Jack standing outside the car waiting for him to exit

Luke exits the car and Jack harshly closes the door.

The family enters there house and Luke places his bags on the floor by the door leaving him holding only his phone.

The silence from the car ride continues inside the house as no one says a word and everyone just makes there way towards the living room and takes a seat.

“What the hell?” Is the first thing said by Luke’s older brother Jack

“Ok look I get it it probably wasn’t the best idea to go to Mexico and I’m sorry I lied but like nothing happened and we had a great time” Luke defends himself

“Nothing happened you and your friends left the country without telling an adult! What if something had happened what if one of you had gotten in an accident or went missing we would be looking in California for goodness sake!” Ellen Hughes exclaims at her youngest son

“I mean we’re adults” Luke says in a monotone voice

“You know what your mother means you didn’t tell a parent” Jim Hughes intervenes

“Look I said I’m sorry I don’t know what else you want me to say” Luke says

“We want you to understand that what you did was wrong and that it should’ve never happened in the first place” Ellen says calmly

“Alright sorry it won’t happen again” Luke says with a slight eye roll which earns him a smack upside the head from Quinn who’s sitting next to him

“You’re grounded for a week and when we go up to the lake you’re not allowed to go wandering off on your own without another person with you” Jim Hughes sentences

Luke scoffs at this. He thinks it’s fucking ridiculous he’s 18 years old, he just finished his freshman year at college and he’s being treated like he’s a fucking child. It wasn’t the grounding that was pissing him off so much as it was the thought of having a babysitter. Lukes been able to go off on his own at the lake since he was 14 years old no worries whatsoever which isn’t completely true his parents and brothers always worried a little bit seeing as he is the baby of the family but Luke always stayed relatively close and always kept his phone on him.

“No that’s bullshit!” Luke shouts standing up

“Did you really think you could just go to Mexico without telling anyone and not have any consequences?” Quinn who has stayed silent this entire time finally speaks

“I’m 18 years old I’m not some child you can order around anymore and I certainly don’t need a fucking babysitter”

“Clearly you do if you’re off running around in Mexico why the hell did you even go to Mexico if you wanted the beach there are plenty of ones here! In America!” Jack shouts standing up as well

“Luke! Sit down.” His dad says

Luke rolls his eyes again feeling nothing but anger building up at the way this conversation has gone. Luke shakes his head in disbelief and scoffs before grabbing his phone that was sitting on the couch and walking towards the front door.

He leaves the house slamming the front door and leaving the people inside both shocked and angry by his actions.

Luke starts walking away from his house and onto the dark pavement lit up only by street lights.

After about 15 minutes of walking Luke reaches his neighborhood park. He sits down on a bench and tilts his head back looking up at the night sky.

There were few stars up in the sky but Luke still enjoyed the view although he preferred the view from last night.

Luke starts to think back to the bar and dancing with Izzie. His hands around her waist hers on his neck. Her lips touching his. Within seconds his own lips turned from a resting frown that had been present since the car ride into a smile.

Luke pulled out his phone and goes to Instagram. He tries every combination of Izzie he could think of unaware of the spelling of her name but with the thousands of results and no way to narrow it down Luke quickly gives up.

The frown which had since disappeared was now back and became even more distraught as he noticed two figures walking towards him.

Once the figures came closer to Luke he noticed who it was.

“Dude let’s go” Jack says walking closer to Luke

Luke just looks at Quinn who’s displaying no emotional reaction. Luke starts to wonder if it’s because he’s tired or because he’s pissed or possibly both.

Luke thoughts get interrupt when he feels a hand on his bicep

He looks over and sees Jack gripping his arm and urging him to stand up

Luke shakes his head and stands up then the trio of brothers start the 15 or so walk back towards their house.

Once the park was in an unseeable position the silence that Luke has gotten oh so familiar with today is broken.

“Did you have fun on your trip?” Jack asks with a sympathetic such smile

“Ya I had a great time we went to Rocky Point and it was fun it was really fun” Luke says matching the slight smile appearing on his brothers face

“What did you guys do?” Jack continues the conversation

“Um I mean we did a lot of things we spent a lot of time at the beach, we went to a couple of bars and clubs at night, there was one day where we went jet skiing that was super fun” Luke explains not sure if mentioning the bars and clubs was a smart decision but chooses not to overthink it.

“Did you fall off the jetski?” Quinn asks with a laugh remembering a more recent time when Luke had been on the back of a jetski with Jack driving and despite being told multiple times to hold on when Jack hit the gas Luke went flying off into the lake and at first the whole family was worried out of their mind but when Luke rose his soaked face and hair out of the water and stuck up a middle finger towards Jack they all laughed.

“No I didn’t fall off mainly because Jack wasn’t driving” Luke responds giving a little nudge to Quinn who smiled towards both his little brothers after an exchange of smiles and laughs between the trio Quinn’s demeanor quickly changed to a more serious look

“you know Luke I’m really happy you had a good time but you know it just it would’ve been nice to know where you were going mom and dad were freaking out a bit when your friends mom called and said you guys didn’t go to California they were really worried something could’ve happened to you and when you wouldn’t respond to anyone they really love you kid and we do to and we don’t know what any of us would’ve done if something did happen to you” Quinn explains to his youngest brother

For the first time today Luke starts to feel a little bit remorseful about what he’s done and realizes his family although they can be annoying sometimes they really love him and he regrets worrying them so much.

“I’m sorry I worried you guys and you’re right I should’ve told someone or at the very least text or call you guys back I’m really sorry” Luke says

“Just don’t do again or otherwise I’ll have to kill you which would really suck because that would mean we wasted our 4th pick and I think it’s gonna be really fun when you and I get to win on the ice against Quinn” Jack laughs

“Don’t jinx it or tomorrow’s headlines gonna be that I got traded before I even sign a contract” Luke responds

“Hopefully that won’t happen” Jack adds crossing his fingers

“Oh god the two of you on the same team and living together I don’t know who I’m gonna feel worse for one of you or the state of New Jersey” Quinn jokes

Jack reaches over and gives Quinn a playful shove causing all three brothers to smile again the next few minutes the brothers spent laying and teasing one another until they arrived back at the families home.

Jack was the first to step in followed by Luke who had no way of escaping again since Quinn was blocking the exit with his own body.

Once all three boys were inside the door closed shut and Quinn turned around and locked the door making it official that everyone was now home for the night.

“Where are mom and dad?” Luke asks

“They’re in their room” Quinn answers and Luke sighs and starts walking in the direction of the master bedroom.

Knock knock

“Come in” Luke’s mom answers

Luke walks in and sees his mom putting her jewelry away and his dad sitting in a chair in the corner with a book cracked open

“Hey I just wanted to tell you guys I’m sorry I’m sure I worried you guys alot and it was really a shitty thing for me to do and not answering your calls or text was stupid and I shouldn’t have lied about where I was going I know you guys were already nervous about me going to California and it was a really selfish thing for me to do and I’m really sorry” Luke apologizes this time meaning it

Both of his parents smile and his dad puts down the book and gives his youngest son a hug his mom walks over and does the same.

Luke spends the next few minutes talking to his parents and telling them some of the fun parts of his trip well making sure to only include the family friendly parts which do not include his beverage or entertainment choices however does include a mention of riding the jet ski which his parents took as an opportunity to tease him about when he fell off.

After a few more laughs Luke chose to apologize once more for the worried he had caused them and they reassured him that he was forgiven with a pat on the back from his father and a kiss on the cheek from his mother the family says their good nights and then the 18 year old left their room to go to his own.

As he walks towards the stairs he sees his bags still sitting there and rather than bringing them up right now he decides later is better and by that he means sometime tomorrow starting to feel a little tired himself.

Luke walks to his room and shuts the door then feels in his pocket for his phone and goes on Instagram.

He notices a few of his recommendations to follows are random girls named Izzie with alternating spellings.

He shakes his head with a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Jack asks appearing in the open doorway

“Eh nothing” Luke shakes off still smiling

Jack starts walking closer to Luke and soon Quinn appears in the room.

Jack takes a look at Luke’s screen which he was doing nothing in response to hide as he didn’t really care about the contents being public at least not to his brothers

“Why do you follow so many girls named Izzie?” Jack asks with a confused look

“I don’t follow them I was just looking for the Instagram of some girl I met but it’s kinda impossible considering all I know is her first name and I don’t even know how she spells it” Luke explains with a shrug

“Did you just meet her this week?” Quinn asks stepping into the room and the conversation

“Ya I met her last night” Luke says

“Funny how when you were telling us about your trip you left this part out” Jack jokes then takes a seat on Lukes bed

“So tell us what happened” Jack encourages

“What?” Luke asks as he watches Quinn take a seat next to Jack

“Come on you never tell us anything!” Jack claims

“I’m not gonna tell you guys what happened it’s private” Luke says

“Fine but we’re not leaving till you tell us about Izzie at least tell us where you met her or what she looks like” Jack says lying back on Lukes bed and getting comfortable

“You are so annoying” Luke shakes his head then walks over to his desk chair and takes a seat

“I met her at a bar it was like a beachside type thing it was like I don’t know 10 or something but I was drinking a beer and then I decided to take a shot of vodka and obviously vodka tastes disgusting so I made a face and she was standing next to me and starts talking about how it’s a mentality and that way the shots don’t taste so bad and we took a couple of shots together and then we danced together and we made out a few times in the bar and then we ended up leaving and we walked down to the beach and uh we had a good night” Luke recalls starting to blush a little near the end

“I’m going to assume had a good night means you walked her home and then went back to your room alone” Quinn says starting to get up

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night then that’s exactly what happened” Luke answers

“It does” Quinn says with a laugh then says goodnight and proceeds to head to his own room.

“I’m out too but I’m proud and relieved to know you at least have a little bit of game” Jack jokes giving Luke a playful punch to the shoulder which Luke returns and adds a mocking laugh

“Goodnight” Jack says as he walks out the door

“Goodnight” Luke responds

[final-girl96]

Ageless Secrects Prologue

September 26, 2003

Detroit, Michigan

I was in my room doing my homework when my sister, Tess, knocked on the door before coming in. Dinner's ready.” I looked over at her, setting my pencil down. “What're we having?” I asked, standing up and walking after her down the hallway and to the dining room. “Chicken, with mashed potatoes, and broccoli.” I've been living with Tess and her husband and their son for a couple of years now. I moved in when I was thirteen and I'm fifteen now. Tess is thirteen years older than I am, so we weren't really that close, but when our parents were killed in an accident she didn't hesitate to take me in.

We sat at the table and started eating. I couldn't help but notice that Andy's, Tess’ husband, hand was twitching. It wasn't noticeable unless you really paid attention. I looked over at my little cousin, Chase, who's only seven, and saw he too was a little twitchy. “How was school?” Tess asked. Chase looked up at her with a blank stare. His face was a little pale. “School was as usual for me. I passed my biology test, though. I mean, barely, but I passed,” I said.

Andy wasn't looking too great, either. Neither of them wanted to eat their food. I looked at Tess, who was looking at Chase. “Are you feeling alright, baby? You don't look so good.” Chase shook his head in response. “Why don't you go lay down. If you're hungry later, I'll make you some soup.” Chase slowly got up and dragged himself back to his bedroom. “I think I'm going to go lay down too,” Andy said, standing up and walking away from the table before Tess could say anything. “Okay, that was weird.”

After Tess and I ate, I helped her clean everything up. “Want to come to the store with me?” She asked, drying her hands with a tee-towel. “Sure. Can we get ice cream?” I asked. She laughed and shook her head, “We’ll see.”

Driving to the store took longer than it should have and when we got there it was closed. “They're closed? But it's only eight.” Tess looked around in confusion. A minute later sirens were wailing past the store. Cop cars, fire tricks, and ambulances rushed by. It wasn't unusual to hear sirens at all hours of the day and night, but it was unusual to see that many fly by. “Get in the car,” Tess said, looking across the road. I hadn't realized someone was screaming until she had spoken. I looked across the street where my sister was looking to see some woman being attacked. “Now, yn! Get in the damn car!”

I stumbled a little trying to get back in the car. As soon as my door slammed shut, Tess was back out and speeding back towards the house. When we would run into a roadblock she would find another way. When we made it back to the house the neighbors were running out of their houses, packing their cars, and leaving in a rush. “What the hells going on?” I asked. Tess ran into the house and I ran after her. “Andy? Andy, what're you doing?” Tess asked, backing away from her husband.

He sprinted towards us, mouth wide open with some time of…I wasn't really sure that was in his mouth. “Run, yn, run!” Tess yelled. And I did, run, I ran out the door and around the back of the house, climbed the rope ladder up to the tree house. When I was safely up there I pulled the ladder up. I was only up there for ten minutes when I remembered Chase was still in the house. I threw the ladder back down and climbed down. When my feet hit the ground I ran for the back door. Tess was by the basement door

When I went in Andy was laying on the floor, blood pooling around his head. Tess was by the basement door. Her back was pressing up against the door, tears running down her face, Chase's baseball bat in her hand with blood dripping from it. “T–Tess?'' She slowly looked up at me. “Go pack a bag, quickly. We need to leave.” I just stood there and stared at her for a few long seconds. “Where–where's Chase?” There was a loud banging on the door behind her. “Go! Now!” She yelled. I jumped before running to my room.

I grabbed my backpack, shoved some clothes inside it and anything else I could get my hands on that was important to me. I didn't know how long we would he gone or if we'd ever come back. I grabbed a heavier coat since it would be getting colder and the throw blanket at the end of my bed. I don't know why but I did. I was so scared and confused about what was going on that I just grabbed stuff and ran out of my room. Tess was coming out of her room holding two bags and Andy's pistol. “Car. Go. Now!” She yelled.

I ran to the front door, flinging it open, and ran to the car. Helicopter's and Jets flew overhead, sirens could be heard from every direction. It was all total chaos. “What're you doing? Get the fucking car, yn!” Tess yelled at me. I opened the door with shaky hands and got in. “What's going on? Where's Chase? What did you do to Andy? What was wrong with him?” I had so many questions. Tess started the car and flew out of the driveway almost hitting another car.

The roads were even worse than they were when we came back through. It was a traffic jam trying to get onto the freeway. Tess went around people, taking back roads just to get out of there. “There's some kind of sickness going around. Andy had it, he tried to attack me; to bite me. I had no other choice. And Chase – he – I couldn't.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I locked him in the basement. I just couldn't do it.”

“Are we–are we infected too?” I asked. She shook her head, shrugging, “I don't know. I don't know what this is or how it spreads. The news just said not to let anyone who's sick near you. We need to get out of here and we need to get as far from the city as we can.”

That's what we did; we got away from the city and avoided any road blocks, law enforcement, and military aids. Tess didn't want to take a chance with us being in the same house as two people who were infected. She just wanted to get as far away as we could. We drove until we were forced to stop and get gas; but even that was almost impossible. Everyone we came across had a long line of cars. She kept driving until she found one that didn't have so many people.

The gas station we stopped at was hours away from where we lived; in fact it was in Ohio, five hours away. Tess had kept driving, not wanting to stop for anything until it became necessary. As soon as a gas pump opened up, she whipped into it, got out and pumped the gas. She was quick about it, getting back in the car and pulling away from the pump. She pulled into a spot in front of the store and looked at me. “I'm going to go get us some drinks and snacks and anything else I can grab. Lock the doors behind me.”

She got out, slamming the door and waiting for me to lock the doors before heading I side. I glanced around nervously. People were rushing around trying to get their gas and anything else they could get their hands on before it was all gone. Tess can back out with a few bags of stuff and I unlocked the doors for her. She got in, handing me the bags, before backing out, and pulling out onto the road.

“I heard people talking in the store. They said that whatever this sickness is, it's in certain foods like flour, pancake mix, bread, I guess any kind of grain. I don't know, but I think we are safe as long as we stay clear from any one who is infected.” I reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of water, setting it in the cupholder. “Skittles and M&Ms?” She shrugged her shoulders. “It's better than nothing.”