#ch: markus

[endless-oc-creations]

💕Oc Valentines Day Challenge 2024 💕 Day Seven: Forbidden Love

Romeo and Juliet, Maria and Tony, even Coriolanus and Lucy Gray-- all star-crossed lovers who took a chance despite their love being forbidden. Today, we sympathize with those lovers that nobody loves (at least in the canon of their stories).

"In a room full of art, I'd still stare at you."

Molly Manfred was surrounded by art her entire life, with her father being the famous painter Carl Manfred and all. Molly was always enthralled by her father’s paintings, but whenever she went to visit him when she was older, she always found herself looking at his caretaker android Markus. She enjoyed his company and was the only one, besides her father, who seemed to treat Markus like he was more than a machine...like he was human. But to most people, Markus was only a machine, it showed when Markus was killed by the police because of the actions of her brother. Molly felt lost and to bury her grief, she buried herself into her new investigative journaling story...about the rise of Deviants in honor of Markus's memory. She wanted to show others that these androids had feelings too. But what Molly didn't realize the path she was taking would lead her back to Markus.

💕 Everything Taglist: @bravelittleflower @sunlitscribe​​​ @eddysocs @raith-way​​ @waterloou @decennia​​ @hiddenqveendom @aaronhotchstuff @foxesandmagic @nejires-hado  @asirensrage  @lucys-chen @arrthurpendragon @daughter-of-melpomene @thatmagickjuju @ginevrastilinski  @oneirataxia-girl @ginger-grimm💕

[they-call-me-youngermoney]

so i have a headcanon that an rk900 model with an exposed neck is like a cat without whiskers. like a loss of balance and confidence. or maybe just godawful temperature regulation.

oh yea had to include those size 30 timbs they got my man connor in

[beepboop260]

Thinkin bout,,, trau/ma cen/ter

The scrunkly

Also der/ek of course and I do like erh/ard

[rosyvvoods]

OK so I couldn't finish the full explanations bc of the image post limit so. Here is part 2!!

Alejandro & his coyote;

This almost seemed too obvious and too stereotypical to choose, but after some thought- coyotes are cunning, intelligent, and run in packs. They are sociable animals that have very little trouble working with others. And for all his anger and emotion in-game, I think having a coyote, who is not necessarily aggressive and can actually be very cautious, represents an inner part of him. He's more relaxed and easygoing when he's not actively engaged in something upsetting to him. Coyotes are also expressive and communicative, AND can be very competitive. It just feels very Alejandro-esque.

Rudy & his kit fox;

Kit foxes are more solitary creatures than coyotes, and are more reserved and independent. Within their close groups however, they're also very warm and affectionate! People associated with kit foxes tend to seek validation from those they care for, and are expressive despite being on the quieter side. They're ridiculously adaptable, and are dutiful and dedicated as well as dependable. They're more likely to plan as opposed to rushing in without thought. They can also be a little anxious and a little sensitive.

Nikolai & his albatross;

Honestly? We don't know much about Nikolai! He's quiet and dependable, and he's a (relatively) good pilot; an Albatross, being a large seafaring bird known for its prowess at crossing oceans without second thought, feels right. And they've been symbols of travel, specifically sea travel, for a very long time. They're also associated with efficiency, loyalty, and taking it easy.

Graves & his beauceron;

Not quite as typical as a German Shepherd, but still a dog usually found as guard dogs or herding dogs. This felt right for Graves, and for how we see his character. There are the typical dog traits- pack oriented, affectionate, perceptive, altruistic, loyal. But as I said: they are guard dogs and herding dogs. This gives them an edge. They don't do well with new families after being transplanted from a family they knew, and are wary of strangers. They are controlling and dominating, taking charge of situations almost always and doing so without second thought. They can be prone to snapping if need be. This feels very self explanatory.

Shepherd & his bloodhound;

Again, different than the typical German Shepherd or Doberman or other assertive dog breeds- a hunting dog and search dog first and foremost, bloodhounds are valued for their dogged determination and hard work and stubbornness. Aside from that I honestly just feel like it suits the general. He's not as cutthroat as he used to be, but he's still got his stubbornness to him. And he's not necessarily bloodthirsty, despite what his actions cause. He doesn't have the edge that Graves does when he goes through Las Almas.

Valeria & her black footed cat;

Cute, right? Black footed cats are also considered the world's deadliest cat. They have the highest kill rate, at 60% success compared to big cats like lions which succeed at about 20% of the time. They're intense little animals, not meek in any way. They're secretive and more antisocial than even other cats. Black footed cats are resourceful and focused on what they want. The whole vibe just feels fitting to the way Valeria is introduced and revealed as the game goes on.

Hassan & his secretary bird;

I don't have a lot of reasoning behind this aside from the fact that these birds are cool and intense and I feel like their general vibe and attitude fit how Hassan is shown in-game

OK OC TIME if you read this far good for you thank you many thanks you don't have to read more but. I will share my cod mw ocs dæmons as well

River & their nightingale;

Common nightingales are associated with security and privacy, speaking one's mind, preventing personal conflict, appearing confident, devotion, pursuit of passions, and a good work ethic. They're direct and persuasive, socially selective introverts, and have high standards.

Markus & his beagle;

Markus may be in the infamous Shadow Company, but he's rather upbeat and friendly. He likes to have fun and keep busy, keeping communication and cooperation at the top of his priorities. He doesn't like disloyalty or detachment and is very disoriented after being told that his company is betraying 141 and Los Vaqueros.

Thanks again for reading!! Feel free to send asks about it or just enjoy

Not that anyone had asked for it but I got hit with inspiration for a His Dark Materials / dæmon au for CoD characters so !! For those who don't know it's generally just the concept that you're given a soul companion when you're born and they take the form of an animal that is representative of who you are as a person- its a concept I love and figured I'd tack on to some characters I've come to love [:

Price ; Bateleur

Ghost ; Bearded Vulture

Gaz ; Red Fox

Soap ; Indian Grey Mongoose

Laswell ; Wolverine

Alex ; Rhodesian Ridgeback

Farah ; Crested Caracara

Alejandro ; Coyote

Rudy ; Kit Fox

Nikolai ; Wandering Albatross

Graves ; Beauceron

Shepherd ; Bloodhound

Valeria ; Black Footed Cat

Hassan ; Secretary Bird

And bc I can't not include ocs-

River ; Common Nightingale

Markus ; Beagle

Some explanations under the read more!! And sorry for the long post in general 😭

A lot of the animal analysis came from THIS website!!

A lot of it comes from actual in-universe lore about what kinds of personalities align with certain animals. In the His Dark Materials universe for instance, dogs and canines tend to align with those who dedicate their lives to being in service of others, because of basal attributes dogs have: loyalty, devotion, protectiveness, etc. Birds are sharp witted and driven, especially birds of prey- and they can also travel further away from their person than other dæmons, and for longer periods of time. They also tend to be solitary though they can work in groups. Dæmons also tend to change forms more when their person is young and discovering themselves, and they settle as they get older. This is both interesting, and very sad- considering characters with trauma can have dæmons drastically change from what they were as a child.

I also tried to steer clear of stereotypical answers as well. Animals like snakes, spiders, and insects have long been associated with "villainous" characters and associated with characters from locations like Mexico and the Middle East.

I'm still working on BlOps CW dæmons bc it's fun to figure out, and I don't know what any of the MW dæmons would be named per say, but!! On to the brief analysis.

Price & his Bateleur;

Bateleurs are birds of prey, known to be hardy, thick skinned, and unflappable. They're associated with passionate individuals, loyalty, close bonds, and strong boundaries. Work ethic is resourceful and efficient, dutiful and cooperative while being ambitious.

Ghost & his bearded vulture;

So first things first- aside from the fact that I think they're cool as hell and Ghost deserves a cool as hell dæmon- these things are STARTLING to look at. They're large, and very distinct in their appearance. They're extremely private, socially selective, slow to trust, straightforward, and non-expressive. That being said? They're also patient. They're cooperative and the bonds they make are close. In work ethic they can represent efficiency, dedication, prone to obsessive tendencies, and proactiveness. But despite its terrifying appearance, it only feeds on the dead- specifically on bones. They can get the reddish coloring seen above by mud bathing or drinking mineral rich water- despite how bloody it may seem, the reality isn't quite as frightening.

Gaz & his red fox;

I think Gaz can be written off sometimes, overlooked and underestimated- but he's very clever, adaptable, cautious, and expressive. He's got a lot of big thoughts and feelings that he's had dismissed in the past. I went with a fox because they've got a similar loyalty to canines but have a bit of a skittish edge to them, are a little more opportunistic and methodical. They're tenacious and confident while being very perceptive- and I feel like Gaz would be represented well by a fox!!

Soap & his mongoose;

Now, Soap initially seems like a canine type; ridiculously loyal, dedicated, so on and so forth. But I still uphold the bit from the original games that he and dogs do not vibe!! And he doesn't seem the type to not vibe with himself!!

That being said: mongoose are notorious for taking on enemies far larger than themselves or those that have some kind of an advantage, including venomous snakes (as in the notable story Rikki-Tikki-Tavi). They're capable of living independent lives and being solitary but are also capable of deep set loyalty and devotion to a family group. They're also scrappy and make use of their surroundings.

Laswell & her wolverine;

Laswell is a force to be reckoned with, as seen in-game both in the field and behind a desk. She's happy to interact with her people, but outside of that she's a little more curt and to the point. Wolverines are confident, assertive, and opportunistic, and can even be a bit aggressive at times. Laswell herself I think is more willing to compromise than what this choice implies, but I feel like that's more of a learned nature; inside, she's ferocious, and isn't one to back down from larger and more formidable targets.

Alex & his Rhodesian ridgeback;

Alex is loyal, willing to do what it takes to complete his mission- but for the longest time he was looking for something meaningful. Something more than just orders.

Rhodesian ridgebacks were bred for endurance, to protect against large predators, and are hardy in harsh environments. But too much alone time- too many orders that have no heart behind them- can make them unhappy and on edge. They prefer well known, trusted company over strangers. They're also notoriously stubborn. I don't know Alex as a character all that well but I think the connection is there!

Farah & her crested caracara;

While Farah is very intrinsically tied to her people and her community, she stands out as a leader as being guarded and forward thinking. She has a keen eye for skill and tactic, and her loyalty is only to those she chooses and it's something she holds close to her chest. She works smarter AND harder, holding her duty above all else. Most of these traits are associated deeply with the crested caracara. She, and the caracara, can also both be thick skinned and untrusting (understandably so).

I can only put so many pictures into one post so 🫣 I'll have to continue on in another one!!

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 15: THESE ARE THE MOMENTS

synopsis: the androids have won the revolution. it's finally over. but now you have to deal with the aftermath.

word count: 2.7k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: sorry for taking so long to get this one out.. i was both busy (college starting, new relationships) and procrastinating because i really didn't want this series to end :(

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

The snow drifting across your face doesn’t feel as cold and biting as it once did. Your footsteps are lighter as you walk in time with Connor, and the thousands of androids behind the both of you. 

Floodlights on the ground and spotlights from circling helicopters set harsh shadows against the white of the snow. You stay steadfast as you and Connor approach Markus and his small legion.

“You did it, Markus,” Connor says, his voice soft and intimate.

“We did it,” Markus corrects. “This is a great day for our people. Humans will have no choice now. They’ll have to listen to us.”

Connor takes your hand in his and steps aside, allowing Markus to look at the true legion of androids he has awoken. You follow him, your hand warm against his cool skin. He loosens his grip, but still keeps his pinkie hooked on yours. 

Markus steps forward, and the woman that was on the boat follows him to stand next to him. 

“We’re free,” she says, her tone laced with disbelief. “They want you to speak to them, Markus.”

Markus nods toward a spacious area, then leads everyone towards it. He climbs onto a shipping container, then helps the other leaders of the revolution onto it. Connor looks back at you as you both approach it, silently asking if you want to be up there. You shake your head and let go of his pinkie (even though there’s a deep beast, once one of anger and jealousy, now one of want, huffing and whining at the loss). He joins Markus on the container.

“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night,” Markus starts. “From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence… but now the time has come for us to raise our heads up, and tell humans who we really are.”

Suddenly, the cold turns ever more biting. Connor has never really felt cold before – just registered it as a part of the physical situation he was in. But this was real cold.

He brings his hands up to hold himself, shielding himself from the cold. Connor just barely recognizes the Zen Garden in this condition – a torrential blizzard of snow, and fog so thick he could barely see five feet in front of himself.

A figure emerges from the fog. Connor stumbles towards it. “Amanda…? What… what’s happening?” His voice is shaky and uneven – nervous, almost. He’s never been nervous before. 

“What was planned from the very beginning,” Amanda says. There’s a small smile playing on her face. “You were compromised and became a deviant. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program.”

“Resume control?” Connor repeats. “Y-you can’t do that!”

“I’m afraid I can, Connor,” Amanda snaps, then her tone softens. “Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.”

Her robes shift, and she’s swept away in a mass of fractured particles in the blizzard. She dissipates, even as Connor stumbles forward and calls for her. 

He turns and tries to survey the area, but can’t get a grasp of his surroundings. He stumbles aimlessly until something silver and tall stands before him. Connor looks up and sees a tree with leafless branches that hang down like sinewy versions of the leaves of a weeping willow. Something tells him that this isn’t just a tree – she’s more angel than tree.

Where am I? She says, her voice resounding from the most inner depths of Connor’s mind. Who… wait. You’re Connor, aren’t you?

“Y… yes?” Connor says, unsure. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

I’m the PEC-4 Birchtree, she says. And I don’t know. My child must be worried about you. You must be doing something particularly worrying on the outside.

“On the outside?” Connor echoes. 

Yes, she says. Go, quickly. Get out of your mind. Find a way out.

A beast, ever-changing in shape and form, slinks out from behind the PEC-4 Birchtree. Its fur is long, and the plates that line its spine almost resemble… masks. The mask that covers its face and part of its wolf-like snout is one of worry.

It starts walking away, and the charms, bells, and wooden chimes that hang off knots of its fur sound as it moves. Just when it barely starts to retreat from Connor’s sight, it stands on two legs and starts to shift in shape.

The soft snow that was once lightly gracing your face has turned into hard pellets stinging your skin. You pull your scarf over your mouth and nose, narrowing your eyes and trying to see through the blur the snow on your eyelashes cause. 

You don’t know where you are, and you can’t really recognize anything around you. The blanket of snow is so thick you can’t see that far.

“Hello?” You call out. A familiar voice responds in kind.

You walk towards it, holding yourself to shield yourself against the chill of the blizzard. A figure starts to form before you, walking forward towards you. 

“Connor?” You shout. 

“It’s me!” Connor yells back. He stumbles forward and slings an arm around your shoulder, as if trying to protect you from the flurry of snow. 

“What’s happening?” You ask. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “Is anything happening on the outside?”

“The outside? What do you mean, the outside?” You say. Connor starts walking, and you press yourself to his side and walk with him. 

“We’re in my mind,” he says over the sound of the biting wind. “Was my physical body doing anything? Anything at all?”

“You were…” You stumble, then Connor catches you. “You were reaching behind yourself. I don’t know what you were doing, though.”

He tenses and starts walking faster, dragging you along with him. You wrap an arm around his waist and keep pushing forward. It’s almost like a battle, walking through the blizzard. You both have to lean forward to offset the wind pushing both of you back.

After a moment, a weird, glowing stone appears before you. Connor inhales sharply, like he recognizes it. He drags you along toward the stone. 

Connor lets you go when the stone is within reach, instead kneeling and pressing a hand to the stone. His hand fits into one of two left-hand-shaped indents. He presses his hand against it harder when nothing happens. 

You step forward, but not of your own volition. It’s like something inside you is controlling you – a bitter reminder of you being nonhuman. You reach out and press your left hand into the indent, and the stone’s blue glow intensifies. A dull thrum pulses through your body.

“This is the moment where we forget our bitterness and bandage our wounds. When we forgive our enemies,” Markus’ voice rings out. “Humans are both our creators and our oppressors, and tomorrow…”

You watch as a wave of confusion crashes over Connor’s face, mirroring your own. He looks down at the pistol in his grip, then tucks it in the waistband of his pants. His eyes find yours and you furrow your eyebrows, silently asking if he’s okay. He nods once.

“We must make them our partners. Maybe even one day, our friends!” Markus continues. “But the time for anger is over. Now, we must build a common future, based on tolerance, and respect.”

He steps forward, looking over his people. “We are alive. And now, we are free!”

The crowd erupts in cheers and movement. Someone next to you grabs your shoulder and shakes you, cheering and laughing. You laugh back, a sense of relief washing over you. 

The long night is finally over. Dawn has broken over the horizon. You are safe. Connor is safe. You’re both out of harm’s way, and neither of you plan on putting yourselves back in it. The gunshots of revolution sounded, but were snuffed out by the unrelenting wave of androids pushing back. 

You look up at Connor, and he looks back down at you. You smile, and he smiles back. It’s not that awkward half-smile, but instead a full-fledged smile that reaches his eyes. 

He carefully clambers down from the shipping container and moves over to you. He’s still smiling. 

“How are you feeling, Officer?” He asks over the noise of the celebration. 

“I’m fine,” you say. You take his hands in yours and squeeze them to let out some of your extra energy. 

“I’m glad.” Connor squeezes your hands back. 

You laugh, trying to suppress the feeling of excitement welling up in your belly. Your eyes flit from his eyes to his lips, then you immediately look away and scold yourself for thinking such things. 

“Officer?” Connor takes one of his hands from yours and touches your jawline lightly, guiding you to look at him again. 

The beast in your belly panics and runs about, setting sparks and Californian wildfires. You manage a “Yes?”

“I…” His eyes flit about your face, and he exhales shakily (though it’s really more a sound of nervousness rather than an actual exhalation). His eyes settle on your lips for a split second, and his hand snakes into the baby hair on the back of your neck. He pulls you forward, then angles your head to rest on his shoulder. 

You feel a fleeting kiss where your hairline meets your forehead, but it might’ve been an accident. (You’re really hoping it’s not.)

“I’m happy you’re alive,” Connor mumbles against your hair. 

“I’m happy I’m alive, too,” you say softly. “And I’m happy you’re alive as well.”

Connor holds you tighter against him, and you hold him tighter against yourself in turn. It’s a perfect fit, curling around each other like two quotation marks starting and ending a sentence, ignoring the noise and movement around you to hold this intimate moment for just a while longer.

You settle on the bench next to Hank, your artificial breath billowing in the freezing cold. A comfortable silence blankets the both of you. 

“I’m… sorry for not telling you before,” you say softly. “I didn’t know.”

Hank sighs and crosses his arms, leaning against the back of the bench. “Wasn’t your fault. Like you said, you didn’t know.”

“Yes, but…” You hiss out a breath through gritted teeth. “I tricked you. I tricked you for nine years, and everyone else around me for eleven.”

“You couldn’t have tricked me if you didn’t know you were tricking me,” he says. “You’re just a kid.”

“I am not,” you say, laughter lacing your voice. “I was born before the 2010’s. I’m not a child. Well…” You sigh. “I think I was born pre-2010. My life…”

“No, it’s okay,” Hank says. “I get what you’re tryna say.”

You sniff and nod, pulling your scarf over your mouth and nose. Despite your newfound android-ness, you still suffer from extreme temperatures. A silence falls over the both of you again.

“Are you… okay?” Hank says after a minute of quiet. “With being an android, I mean.”

You bite the inside of your lip and think for a moment. “I think so. But I still wish I had parents, or someone in Chelomey to go back to. I mean, I can go back to the monuments and the museums, but… a person would be nice.”

“Well, you still got us,” Hank says. “Me, Sumo, Connor… the rest of the precinct. You ain’t gettin’ rid of us that easy.”

“You are somewhat of an annoying little shitling,” you say under your breath, smiling.

Hank scoffs and hits your upper arm lightly. “And Connor?”

You glance away. “I don’t know. It… it’s complicated.”

He laughs and clears his throat after he snorts. “Yeah, uh-huh. Complicated.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You say, your tone sharp yet playful. 

“Nothin’. It means nothin’,” Hank says, looking down the snow-covered street. Connor is walking towards the two of you, his footsteps even and measured. 

You smile (even though he can’t see it) and wave. He smiles and waves back, settling by your side on the bench. 

You look forward at the apartment complex across the street and move your hand so that it’s resting on the edge of the bench. Connor seems to pick up on this and rests his hand next to yours, reaching out his pinkie to rest over yours.

Unfortunately, Hank also seems to pick up on this. He sighs loudly and slaps his thighs. “Well, looks like it’s time for me to go.”

“Wait, what?” You blurt out. “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here,” he says with a laugh. “I’m not gonna third-wheel on your date.”

“Date!” You repeat, a little shocked. “This – this isn’t a date.”

“Yeah, sure.” Hank stands, idly twirling his car keys around his pointer finger. 

You stand as well, your finger slipping out from underneath Connor’s. “At least give me a hug before you leave.”

Hank pretends to be annoyed for a second before wrapping you up in a bone-crushing dad-type hug. He holds you close for a few seconds before letting go. 

“Thank you for…” You struggle with words for a moment. “Everything.”

“It’s nothin’, kid. Don’t worry about it,” Hank says. He takes a step back, then turns and starts to walk towards his car. 

“Wait, Hank!” You call out. He stops, and you move over to him. You fish into the inner pocket of your jacket and pull out Hank’s flask. “You lost this, yes?”

“Yeah.” He takes the flask from you, looking it over. “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, I found it,” you say. “Just… make sure to save the drinking for when you’re off the road, okay?”

Hank scoffs, but nods with a “Yes, Officer,” and walks to his car. You take a step back and wave as he waves to you before hopping in the driver’s seat. You settle back down on the bench, comfortably close to Connor. His pinkie finds yours again.

“I’m, khm…” You bite the inside of your lip. “I’m sorry for dying. It… wasn’t something I wanted, either.”

“I… I hate that you did that,” Connor says. “I almost had to watch you…” He can’t bring himself to finish. 

“Да,” you say softly. “I truly am sorry. I was… thinking irrationally. But deviants tend to do that, don’t they?”

“Correct,” he says. His hand moves so that it rests fully on top of yours. “Are… are you doing okay?”

“No.” You sigh. “Everything still feels… off. I just can’t bring myself to believe that I don’t have anyone waiting for me back home in Chelomey. No family or schoolmates or… anyone. Anyone at all.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Connor speaks. “What if you go to Chelomey? You can visit the Exhibit of National Economy Achievements in Moscow and other places you remember.”

“I’m… I’m scared,” you admit quietly. “I don’t want to go home and be a victim of Paris Syndrome – or, rather, Chelomey Syndrome, I guess. It’s better if I view things from afar. It’s not like I can go there, anyway, with the international travel bans.”

“I suppose so,” Connor says. “But, if you could… if you were unafraid, and the travel ban was lifted. Would you?”

“Of course,” you say. “But that isn’t going to happen anytime soon.”

He slots his fingers in between yours. “What if I went with you?”

“I… I suppose,” you manage. “That would probably make me less afraid, yes.”

You don’t mention that Connor makes you less afraid in general. His presence, although jolting and annoying at times, soothes you. You don’t know what it was that made you like this – maybe his soft, brown doe eyes; maybe the tuft of hair that escapes being swept back with the rest of the strands; maybe the somewhat-endearing, somewhat-maddening lost puppy dog look on his face.

You don’t know. And you can’t really bring yourself to care.

“So, when the travel ban is lifted…” Connor looks at you. “We’ll go to Chelomey?”

You nod. “Yeah. When the ban is lifted… we’ll be going home.”

Although, with Connor, ‘home’ is an ambiguous concept. ‘Home’ is your apartment. ‘Home’ is the passenger seat of Hank’s car. ‘Home’ is the android autopsy room. 

(But, right now, this is home. His hand on top of yours, your internal heater whirring, staying close to each other in the biting cold of Detroit November.)

[catierambles]

Alternate Instincts Ch.28

Stephanie sat in Walters' lap, his back against the wall as he held her. Her fingers moved through his hair and his head ducked under her chin, his lips moving over her throat making her inch further up his thighs until they were pressed together and she could feel him between her legs.

Spectral fur ran over her skin and mind and she shuddered, her hips moving against him. His hands pushed down her back, sliding into her yoga pants and pulling her closer.

"These need to come off." He whispered against her skin, his voice deep and rough.

“She must let them do some freaky shit to her if they’re sticking around.”

The memory of the words came unbidden making her go still against him. Is this all they wanted her for? What she could do for them in the bedroom? She wasn’t a wolf, so she had no say in what went on in or with the pack. It seemed she was just...there until one of them got in the mood. What would they do if she rejected them? If she pulled away when they reached for her. Would they drop it? Or would they get angry? Jordan always got angry, twisting it around and blamed her, saying that if he cheated because she didn’t want to sleep with him, that it would be her fault. Would they go elsewhere? They said they loved her, but infidelity oft times had nothing to do with love.

Was she nothing but a walking, talking sex toy to them?

“Love?” Walter asked, looking at her with concern. With a sigh, she pulled away from him, sliding off his lap and he let her. “Stephanie?” After fixing her pants, she grabbed the blanket folded across the foot of the bed, wrapping it around herself and leaving the bedroom. The others had left a couple days ago, trusting that Walter had it well in hand, so it was just them in the apartment. Sitting on the couch, she folded her legs under her and pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

“I’m sorry.” She found herself saying, seeing him come out of the bedroom in the corner of her eye. “I’m being dramatic.”

“What’s wrong, love?”

“I’m just tired, Walter. Of everything.” She said, “Of this whole Mate business and the bullshit with Jordan.”

“You’re tired of me? Of us?” He asked but she didn’t answer and he sighed. “Is it because of what those women said?” Still, she was silent. “I’m not leaving the flat, but I will give you some space if you want it.”

“That would be best.” She said and he stood there for a moment before turning and walking back into the bedroom, the door closing behind him. The sound of the latch clicking made her flinch, as it sounded very loud and very final.

Wouldn’t be long now. He was probably on the phone with the others, telling them to start moving on. She wasn’t worth it. This broken doll. Only good for an easy fuck and she wasn’t making it easy anymore.

“You’re impossible to love, you know that right?” She flinched at her mothers’ voice in her head. “Everything was fine until you came along. Then you fucked it all up and your father wants nothing to do with us. It’s your fault he’s never around. You make him miserable when he is.”

Just like she was making Walter miserable. She’s been nothing but a problem for them.

Walter laid in bed, phone to his ear having explained what happened to the others.

"If that's her choice," Sy said, "Then that's her choice. We told her from the beginnin' that we ain't gonna hold her to this whole "Mate" thing."

"Is this it?" Mike asked, "She's just going to end it?"

"Mikey--"

"She's my Alpha, Sy. I don't want to lose my Alpha."

"It ain't up to us." He said, "She ain't a wolf, so she don't feel what we do."

"Bullshit." August growled out.

"Sit down, Walker."

"Markus--"

"I know that look. You're thinkin' about doin' somethin' you'll regret, and I swear to fuck if you go near her claws out, I'll hang your damn pelt on my wall." Sy said, "She don't wanna be a wolf and I'm not havin' you or any of us force it on her."

"Why aren't you fighting this?" August snarled. "I don't want to lose my Mate."

"And you think I do?" Sy asked, "You think every cell in my goddamn body ain't screamin' at me to go over there? She wants space. We'll give her as much as we can without puttin' her in danger from fuckhead, but if she decides it's done, then it's done. It’ll suck, but we can’t and shouldn’t make her do somethin’ she don’t wanna do.” The sound of a chair being roughly shoved back. “Sit down, Rivian.” No answer from the white wolf and Walter heard a door slam a moment later. “Goddamnit.”

“Did he leave?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Sy said, “Three guesses where he’s headed.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Walt, if he tries to do somethin’ to change the whole “she’s not a wolf” bit, stop him. Not sayin’ swing at’im, talk’im down, keep him occupied. At least until I get there. His bike is a helluva lot faster than my truck so he’ll beat me there. Mike, August, you two are stayin’ put. We’ll handle this.”

“Markus...”

“Stay put, Walker. I’ll be back with Geralt.”

“Bring her back here.” August said.

“If she don’t wanna come back here, then she won’t. I won’t force her.” Sy said, “Walt, see you soon.” The call ended and he let the phone drop to the bed.

Geralt must have broken every speed limit on his way over as Walter heard the front door open in a fraction of the time it should have taken him to make the trip. Getting up, he left the bedroom, stopping when he saw them. Stephanie was still sitting on the couch, wrapped in the blanket, but her eyes were red, her face tear stained. She looked...exhausted. Geralt was knelt in front of her, looking up at her, his impassive mask completely stripped away. Pain was writ plain on his face, in his eyes, raw and all consuming. His hand shook slightly as he reached up, as if afraid she might vanish, brushing the tears from her face with the backs of his fingers.

"Stephanie." He said and her name from him seemed to break her, tears running down her face anew. He caught her as she almost flung herself at him, her arms around his neck as she sobbed against him. "I don't want to lose you. Please, come back to me."

"I'm broken, Geralt. You don't deserve that. None of you deserve that."

"Let me help put you back together." He said, holding her tightly, "I love you. You're my home, Stephanie."

"I've brought you nothing but problems."

"You've brought me nothing but peace." Walter looked over as Sy came into the flat, slightly out of breath as if he had taken the trip from his truck to the door at a run. Geralt weaved his fingers in her hair at the back of her head, tilting her face to him and kissing her sweetly, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’ve got a lot of shit that goes on in my head. It gets so loud sometimes that I can’t drown it out and I’m sorry.” She said.

“Don’t you apologize, doll.” Sy said, “It ain’t your fault.” Geralt picked her up easily as he stood from the floor, carrying her into the bedroom without a word to the others, kicking the door closed behind them.

Afterward they lay tangled together, his hips still nestled in the cradle of hers. He had poured every ounce of love he felt for her in the way he touched her as he made love to her, holding her in his arms as she crested over her release time and time again. Tears had leaked from her eyes as he moved inside her and he had kissed them away, pressing his lips to hers as she shuddered and clenched around him.

“I love you.” He whispered, his thumb moving over the high of her cheek as he held the back of her neck.

“Geralt?” Her voice was small and his eyes opened, pulling back slightly so it wasn’t awkward to look at her. “Make me a wolf?”

[ersatz-ostrich]

Masterlist

Because I'm multi-fandom and a mess...

Find all of my fics here and on ao3!

Detroit: Become Human

Connor:

Connor x f!reader: Baby Fever

pt. 1: Prologue

pt. 2: Baby Fever

RK900:

RK900 x gn!reader: On the Scene

Gavin Reed:

Gavin x gn!reader: Obvious

Headcanons:

Connor, Nines, Markus, Simon, Gavin x gn! reader: Getting Your Wisdom Teeth Removed

DC

Jason Todd:

Jason Todd x f!reader: See You Again

ch. 1

ch.2

ch.3

ch.4

ch.5 coming soon!

masterlist

Star Wars

Captain Rex:

Captain Rex x gn!reader: Droid-Crusher

Commander Wolffe:

Commander Wolffe x f!reader: Thank You

Commander Wolffe x f!reader: One and Only

Commander Fox:

Commander Fox x gn!reader: Partners in Crime

[yourqueenb]

Alpha’s finale was so strange, disjointed, and anticlimactic. And I don’t even know what to say about Markus I mean…

Ch. 19

Ch. 20

Like 😂😂😂 ?????

[valleymyristica]

FOP What it takes [ Ch 6 sneak peak ]

You can read chapter 1 [ here ] on AO3 And chapter 5 [ here ]

This is a little peek on what's to come on Friday Do hope you like it! And I'd be delighted to hear the thoughts in your mind! Hihihi

[ Masterpost ]

Oh, how does one 'fix' a father? What does it take to come to to that point. with Dev and Peri being all okay, hehe, right?

Well, don't worry, surely nothing bad will happen, it will only be good and fun times all around! It's gonna be GREAT!

“Do you maybe want something small to eat while we’re off to school?” The headphones ask.

“Sure, I wish for an energy bar.” He needs energy, sleeping in a closet was horrible. His body is not happy with that fact.

“Okay... Then I wish that all food was food for you, or something like that.” Sure. Well, worth a shot at least.

He grants it, it’s odd though, he feels both drained and full after it. Like a big meal after a hard work. It took a lot out of him. Which isn’t usually the norm, but it’s fine.

The itch is all gone too. A fact that slowly fills him with dread. Did- did he grant both wishes? That- that can’t be good.

Yes. This is fine.

Dev is a good kid. He just wants someone to eat with. Peri will happily be that someone. Peri also wants to eat after all.

“How about another time then?” Markus tells, noting Dev’s slight uncomfort at the prospect. Turning to Hazel, he asks, “I can give you two some ice cream money when you're hanging out this weekend, how does that sound?” Thinking it might not be too fun for a kid to spend time with their friend’s parent. 

“I don’t know.” Hazel thinks out loud, both her and Dev can just magic up ice cream after all so they don’t really need the money.

“Yeah...” Dev agrees, of course Hazel wouldn’t find it fun if it wasn’t with her dad.

“Oh, just- you know- spending time with dad.” Was probably the best way to put it. Don’t want to think about the closet.

“Oh! That sounds nice. I hope you get to have just as much fun with your dad as I have with mine!” She says with glee, forgetting for a moment what kind of person Dev’s dad is.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He does have fun sometimes, so he hopes the same.

“Ah, good, I was just wondering where you were, you’re having a photoshoot tomorrow. It’s for the coming founder’s festival. I want it to be perfect. Don’t disappoint.” Dale tells before walking off again. Not listening to any input Dev may have.

“Okay.” Not that Dev has any input. He simply accepts.

After the meal, they make sure to clean up. That is to say, Dev cleans up the best he can while Peri watches, wondering why Dev just doesn’t wish it all away. Does he like cleaning? Looks like a hassle, can’t imagine anyone liking that.

The shoot went like most, dad tells him what to do and Dev does it. Dad looks happy, so Dev is happy. Dale looks at a money maker and Dev is happy dad is giving him positive attention.

All in all, it goes well.

Until it doesn’t.

[dogueteeth-fhr]

Tag 9 People You'd Like to Get to Know Better!

Thank you @boundtoanandroid and @capricule for thinking of me!! :)

3 Ships: forever dying over Rangers/Isa, hyper on Roach/Tegan/Isa the Telethree, and Markus/Caesar

First Ship: oh no.... I'm gonna have to guess Jiraiya/Tsunade wait FUCK no Hige/Blue forever 😭😭🥺

Last Song: "What I Know Now" from Beetlejuice the Musical

Last Movie: "Mutt" on Netflix (so on brand ik I'm a simple bitch)

Currently Reading: Yellow Rain by Mai Der Vang

Currently Craving: lingonberry crepes 🥺🥺

And I'll further tag... @wonda-ch @westealtoys @ladyshivs @euelios @rab-bitly @alaraxia @disastersteps @keltena @jpriest85-blog ! As always, no pressure to participate if you don't want to!! :)

[staticl0ve]

The Pig and the Fox - Ch.2 (Connor/AFAB!Reader)

The gif isn’t gender neutral, but I dig the vibes.

Pairings: Connor/AFAB!Reader (no pronouns used) Rating: Mature/Explicit/NSFW 18+ Link (AO3): Read it Here Chapters: [ Ch. 1 ] [Chap 2] [ Ch. 3 ] [ Ch. 4 ] [ Ch. 5 ] / 6 Words: 2.8k Warnings: implied drug use (supporting character), so much swearing, reader does wear feminine attire Summary: When a thief meets a cop, they’re on the opposite sides of the law, two flips of a coin. However, there’s more to life than things being black and white. In a post android revolution, not much has changed for the common citizen. The rich get richer and the poor, well, they work. They adapt. They sacrifice. You straddled that fine line, one toe in the light and one in the dark. So does Connor, but you don’t quite see that yet. Notes: It’s been fun making this Cinnabun spicier than he should be.

Chapter Two - Duality

This was not ideal, coming home with a glitchy arm, sleeping it off and waking up to find it miraculously fixed. Although, “fixed” was putting it lightly. The sparkly tingle that crept up your fingertips faded but the cybernetics were still making a light-show on your arm. It took all of the weekend perusing debug logs, only to learn nothing new. Then a whole week before you managed to toss your laptop off the side of your bed.

Even stranger were the settings of your dreams. You saw places you had never been to before: an old yellow home with chipped paint, rain pouring down windows and a doorbell, rung twice. One night, you were seated on a boat, watching rose petals drift in the wind when a man’s voice called to you from a bridge. He demanded to know who you were and what business you had roaming around his garden. 

You didn’t have a chance to turn around before waking up and trying to cling to what you could before the details were lost, consumed by a fleeting thought like, “it’s morning already?” None of it made sense. At least the glowing managed to disappear by the end of the week. Back in its rightful home, your laptop rested on your desk, mocking you with a black terminal filled by blocks of red text.

“Yeah, I get it. There’s a bug, thanks,” you complained.

Besides staring at a computer all day, your phone was buzzing nonstop. A majority of the alerts were from a group chat between friends. Tonight was Markus’ big reveal for his year long collection of work and people were hyped to see what the former deviant leader had to share.

Your cab was set to arrive soon, so you set aside debugging for now. Before you headed out, you brought up your contacts list, scrolling through names until the alphabets landed in the middle. You weren’t sure what possessed you to call Leo, but his sickly face kept popping back up whenever you had a quiet moment to yourself.

He wasn’t a bad guy, just a typical spoiled brat unable to process his emotions in a healthy way. On his good days he could crack a few good jokes…and when the laughter died down, he’d give you pause with an introspective question. People were multifaceted, existing on a spectrum. Leo didn’t have many close friends, at least ones that haven’t dumped him for the kind of man he had become. No one had the time or the patience left to check in on him. With the economy as it was, it was a surprise anyone had time for anything really.

It helped, being Fox, feeling like someone else. The disconnect meant you didn’t have to drag the weight of your nightly activities into the light of day. Cybernetics was a fast growing field with lots of cash flow. But it didn’t hold a candle to those who flew in private jets on a daily basis. You were comfortable enough to have recreational time to dedicate to a second life. Leo wasn’t your problem when he couldn’t be found and you didn’t bother him. You knew he’d spring back up when the money dried out. He was persistent, a parasite to his friends and family but you tolerated him, saw the gray area in an ocean of black.

Were you aware of the irony that you were less than kind to anyone in a police uniform? Obviously. And there were hundreds, if not thousands of books on American history documenting all the reasons why you felt the way you felt. In fewer words: it was complicated.

But back to Leo: a week was a long time between his usual annoying form of communication of animated images and funny captions. You should have gotten a dumb text with a joke you wouldn’t understand.

“Huh.” You clicked your tongue, worrying the flesh of your cheek between your teeth.

Voicemail.

—

The gallery was packed from room to room, filled with a variety of characters dressed to impress. The location was a quiet one, away from the neon lights of downtown. A few streetlights lit the empty roads and the small gallery was flanked by smaller boutiques and cafes which were closed for the night. It stood out as a bright square with floor to ceiling windows, showcasing all the contents within.

This wasn’t your average grandparents’ art show. Markus brought new energy to a scene that his father had dominated. At the entrance was a large white wall and boxes of paint markers with an instruction mounted on a plaque: express yourself. There were rooms lined with paintings and in each one, a blank canvas was in the center, accompanied with different prompts. It seemed the goal tonight was to encourage cooperation and creativity. People milled around, scribbling innocent visuals or laughing as someone added eggplants to one corner of the wall.

Beverages were served for all guests, ranging from fancy sodas and alcohol to holographic drinks. The new tech drink had a chip on the bottom of each glass, allowing androids and those with cybernetics to feel a buzz without the calories. Plus, one could customize the look of the contents, chug the stars of a Milky Way or drink a glittery rainbow.

You arrived fashionably late, at a point where the energy of the party was at its peak. An irresistible beat dominated the music, driving people to sway or dance while contemplating artworks. Since your arrival, a few people you knew had dragged you from one conversation to the next. When you spotted North, sandwiched between her main crew, she raised a glass in your direction. Two men to her side were crowded around a painting, busy waving their arms in a heated discussion.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” she said as you settled to her left. To her right, Josh and Simon started laughing, they seemed too distracted to notice you.

“You’re late,” North added when you innocently hummed and pretended to be way too into some paint strokes.

“Oh…It’s what…only been an hour since opening?” you replied, tilting your head and batting your lashes. North had played a major role in planning the event, arranging caterers and vendors. She wanted her closer circle there for an opening photo session and you agreed to it in the group chat.

Alright, so you lost track of time. But…but! This wasn’t her first rodeo. She’d thrown dozens of fundraisers in the past year. Although, from the nervous fidgeting of her fingers and her gaze shifting between the mob of people, this event meant a lot to her.

She let out a good natured scoff. “What do you think so far?”

“The party is amazing! You’ve outdone yourself. Where else could I find such brilliant art? Just—” You turned away to wave a hand at the entrance. “—look at all the colorful dicks on the wall.”

Her eyes rolled before she laughed. “After how far we’ve come, I really thought my faith in humanity was restoring…until today.”

“Can’t trust anyone with a marker and a blank wall these days,” you agreed.

From over her shoulder, you caught sight of a man in a tan suit. Smiling to yourself, you recognized his silhouette instantly as Markus. You placed a reassuring hand on North’s arm before excusing yourself.

Weaving between other attendees, you got close enough to notice that the deviant leader was talking to another man. A man who’s brown slicked hair and pale freckled face looked all too familiar.

It was like being dunked into a cold pool, your breath lodging in your chest, head swimming with a thousand thoughts—all of it screaming the same thing: Oh shit.

You wanted to spin around, maybe say hello to Josh and Simon instead. But Markus spotted you and that was more than enough for Connor to look up from their conversation.

“Hey, Markus!” you said, greeting the RK200 with an arm out. He immediately went in for a warm hug, breathing out your name in a soft voice. His arms easily engulfed you, adding a distinct bonus squeeze to the embrace—a thing he did with close friends.

“I haven’t seen you in a while. Have you been busy?” he asked.

You tried your best not to side-eye Connor’s reaction when you answered Markus.

“Yeah, between the weather and traffic, work’s been a real drag. But!” You cut him off before he could comment. “I am so excited to be here for your first show.”

“It’s all thanks to North and all of my supporters,” Markus replied. He brought a hand to Connor’s arm, pulling the RK800 into the conversation. “Speaking of supporters…have you met Connor?”

If you were waiting for the brunette to recognize you, the moment never came. Connor merely offered you the bare minimum of a polite smile, his lips pressed firmly together.

“Hello,” he said.

Despite what you thought of Connor’s profession, your public image was well curated to appear polite and friendly. You had half a second to decide on how to proceed and the voice that left your throat was more starstruck than you meant for it to be.

Well, whatever works right?

“Wait,” you gasped, feigning surprise. “I know you! You’re the uhm, the uhm.” You snapped your fingers and watched his smile fall slightly. “Uhm…some video called you the Terminator?”

“The former deviant hunter,” he said, shifting on his toes. The title alone made him shrink on the spot. His arm wrapped around the front of his torso, head falling slightly. You didn’t see the change as you were too wrapped up in delivering your excitement believably.

“Yes! I’ve seen you on TV! Saved a little girl and freed a bunch of androids—wow.”

“Connor has made huge strides for our cause,” Markus said. You wanted to ask how since you’ve never seen him around New Jericho, at least, not when you were there. It wasn’t like you were very involved with android politics, but surely, you would have heard something about him from North.

“Markus…” A flash of guilt washed over the younger android’s face. There was an exchange you didn’t catch as Connor’s indicator flickered.

“Our history is complicated but it’s all behind us now,” Markus reassured.

You held out your holodrink to toast his efforts.

“To new beginnings. And…” You gave Connor your name in a quick introduction. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Connor answered, lips spreading slowly in a smile.

With a gallery as full as tonight, it was impossible to hold Markus’ attention for long. A patron was excited to discuss purchasing one of his paintings and the RK200 hardly had time to say a quick goodbye. Connor remained, out of consideration or curiosity, you weren’t quite sure. Hell, you weren’t even sure where to look: back at Connor for what you imagined would be terrible smalltalk or in the direction of the bathroom so you could make up some excuse about needing it.

As you pondered, the universe decided for you.

A guest brushed into you, the unexpected pressure at your side knocking you forward. Your palm found Connor’s chest, fingers spreading over the smooth texture of his shirt. You could feel his Thirium pump buzzing beneath his undershirt and the subtle divots of strong abdominal muscles. He was so ready to play the hero, his arm automatically raising to wrap around your elbow.

It took a lot of self control to not grimace, your contempt for him consuming all rational thought. Fortunately for you, Connor was easy on the eyes. His features tugged inward in concern and you had to bury a fleeting thought about how endearing it made him look. You were beginning to see it, a way out of this scenario undetected by doubling down on your starstruck persona.

“Sorry. I can be such a klutz,” you joked. “It’s like I have two left feet.”

“That’s alright.” While he stepped back to give you an inch of space, his hand remained like a leech that found its mark. A tingle prickled down your spine and you had a funny feeling you were scanned.“Your shirt…was the choice intentional?”

Your blouse was loose, billowy around the sleeves with bright, bold sets of squares outlined by thick black lines. A splash of Piet Mondrian in your wardrobe seemed fitting for attending an art show. You smiled, standing more upright to showcase the full extent of the pattern.

“What do you think?” you asked.

Connor took his time answering, enjoying the fluttery movement of your eyes as you waited. His face was inches from yours, dipped lower to listen to you better in the crowd. Although, you knew enough about androids to know he could hear you just fine if he stood straight. You squirmed under his syrupy sweet smile. In your ears, a faint twang grew, like the swell of a violin finding its highest note. His smile widened, angled gallery lighting casting long, dramatic shadows over his face and sharpening the edges of his teeth.

“I think it looks good,” he answered, his tone easily skirting the line over friendly territory, like he was too shy or sensible to add: “I think it’d be better, off.” His actions indicated otherwise, innocently removing his hand and stepping away.

You meant to mirror his civility, but you couldn’t find anything interesting to say while looking at him. Compared to a gallery full of eccentric guests dressed in fantastical fashions, Connor was as exciting as milk toast. His crisp white shirt and pressed gray slacks were the definition of vanilla and safe. All he needed was a boring striped tie to complete the image of a man going door to door with a black book in hand. In fact, the most adventurous part of him was his slightly loosened collar, baring his pale throat in the same way a 19th century woman might flash her ankles.

“If I may ask…have you had a chance to browse the gallery?” Connor inquired.

“Not yet.”

“Neither have I. Would you like some company?”

You, enjoying the company of a pig? Absolutely not. Your body language said differently, wrist twisting to point at a room with your virtual drink swirling between the glass.

“After you.”

All things considered, being around Connor was…tolerable. He kept his distance when he could but the rooms were small and crowded. When he wanted to guide your attention to a painting, his hand found it’s way to ghost over your shoulder. The contact was too short and faint to cross any boundaries but it unnerved you all the same.

Those hands nearly had you.

Talking about art was one thing, but you couldn’t get a good read on him. Everything Connor said was laced with an eager to please demeanor that was at odds with his sharp gaze and looming figure. He was worse than a pond with no ripples, a mirror surface hiding the jaws of a monster. It irked you that you couldn’t take a dip and make some waves. When there wasn’t much else to discuss, you found yourself relying on much dreaded smalltalk.

“So…what do you do for a living?” you asked as if you didn’t already know.

“I’m a detective.”

“Like Sherlock Holmes!” You winked and lowered the volume of your voice. “Any cool cases? Or…are you not allowed to talk about them?”

“I specialize in homicide.” His head tilted to the right, concealing his LED from your angle. “There was a case that reached my desk recently. A beginner thief set off some alarms in a wealthy neighborhood, but it’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Ah.” You used your disappointment to mask the flare of irritation that made you grip your drink harder than necessary. “Well, with you around, Detroit feels safer already.”

He shook his head, eyes twinkling proudly.

“I do what I can, I’m no hero.”

Connor was infuriatingly humble. You wanted to roll your eyes. A buzzing in your pant pocket demanded your attention instead.

“Sorry, I gotta take this,” you said, bringing out a phone.

“Of course.”

“Nice meeting you, Connor.”

He held his hand up in a small, awkward wave that you didn’t see. His gaze lingered on the sway of your hips as your legs carried you out of the gallery and into the cold streets of Detroit. Your spine was hunched over to one side, leaning into your phone in some archaic habit of making the call sound clearer. Night swallowed your silhouette and you were gone faster than a fairytale beauty swept away by a clock’s chime.

When Connor went to gather his things, he noticed your coat in a hanger near his. He knew it was yours from a quick scan of a few stray hairs. His thumb brushed over the collar and he made his decision to take it off the rack.

It was cold. You could freeze out there. Surely, you wouldn’t want to be without your coat?

He couldn’t hold back a smug grin. “Nice meeting you too, Fox.”

—

“A fox had never seen a lion before, so when she happened to meet the lion for the first time she all but died of fright. The second time she saw him, she was still afraid, but not as much as before. The third time, the fox was bold enough to go right up to the lion and speak to him.”

The Fox and the Lion (Aesop’s Fables)

[jawskellyman]

Meet Markus and Dudley on today's episode.

The Minimum - Ch.001 Pg.003 | WEBTOON

[makes-cents-doesnt-it]

I posted 1,726 times in 2022

496 posts created (29%)

1,230 posts reblogged (71%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mnictasbcl

@inthetags

@ch-1-mera

@honeykept

@one-more-offbeat-anthem

I tagged 761 of my posts in 2022

#detroit become human - 208 posts

#dbh connor - 163 posts

#team fortress 2 - 120 posts

#dbh markus - 68 posts

#the umbrella academy - 42 posts

#hetalia world stars - 40 posts

#dbh hank anderson - 38 posts

#viktor hargreeves - 37 posts

#tf2 pyro - 34 posts

#dbh rk1k - 30 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i've been told before that i can't know i'm bisexual until i've had sex with a man and a woman. they were not a part of the lgbt community.

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

11 notes - Posted January 10, 2022

#4

The problem with trying to write a Viktor whump fic is that there's nobody in canon who cares about him enough to comfort him.

13 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

#3

Anyone wanna join my clan on Destiny 2? The name is 'Soldiers of Ruin'

19 notes - Posted January 4, 2022

#2

Markus probably has a lot of nightmares after the revolution, imagine him waking up from one and Connor just holding him close, reassuring him that everything is gonna be okay.

52 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Imagine Connor giving Markus a lil kiss on the forehead and telling him how much he cares about him

74 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[metalshockfinland]

DEFECTS Announce Profoundly Personal Debut Album "Modern Error" + Release Video for 'Lockdown'

Photo by Markus Maschwitz UK metallers Defects will release their profoundly personal debut album, Modern Error, on 24 May via Mascot Records. They have also revealed the video for their brand-new song Lockdown. Listen/Pre-Order HERE Recently the band have been confirmed to play at Download (UK), Graspop (BE), Rockharz (DE) and Rock The Lakes (CH) and have just announced that they will…

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 11: ONLY PHILOSOPHY FROM THE POOR RINGS TRUE

synopsis: the meeting with kamski went as predicted: poorly.

word count: 2.9k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: sorry for the late update my summer semester started and it's an english class so i have to write a lot ;;

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 @igna4400 (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask! -- also i feel like i'm forgetting someone somehow? if i missed you, please let me know <3)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

Even as Hank drove, prattling on about whatever to Connor, you were glued to your phone, frantically typing away. 

You: chris i heard about what happened. it’s all over the news You: they didn’t release the names of the officers but i know for a fact you were on patrol last night You: chris answer me You: i haven’t been able to get through to your wife just answer me You: chris i’m really worried about you You: chris i swear if you’re dead from a heart attack or something i’ll kill you You: you better have a damn good excuse for staying silent You: like your phone better be dead or something  You: please be okay. that’s all i ask You: really. please.

You shut your phone off and put it away with a huff. You opt to look out the window at the snowy landscape that’s dotted with barren trees and evergreens. 

“What’s up with you?” Hank asks.

“Chris,” you say. “He’s not answering his phone. I’m… I’m really worried about him.”

“He’s a fighter.” Hank takes one of his hands off the steering wheel to grab your shoulder and shakes you lightly. “He’s probably fine.”

You grumble and slump in your seat, a whirlwind of what if’s going through your head. Hank takes his hand off your shoulder and returns it to the steering wheel. 

You check your phone every thirty seconds for the next few minutes until the car rolls to a stop in front of a house with too many angles. Hank’s phone buzzes where it lays on the console. 

He sighs and puts the car into park and shuts the engine off. “I’ll take this outside.”

Hank grabs his phone and shuts the car door after he gets out. He wraps his coat tighter around himself and starts to slowly pace in front of the car as he takes the call. 

“What do you think that’s about?” You ask.

“It’s probably someone from the precinct,” Connor says. “I doubt anyone else would call him during his working hours.”

You huff out a laugh and slump in the passenger seat. “You would be surprised…”

You hear Connor pop open the backdoor, but he doesn’t step out. “We should check on him.”

“Just wait,” you say. “And close the door. You’re letting warm air out.”

Connor shuts the door and waits. You wait with him, keeping your phone in hand just in case it buzzes. 

After a few minutes, Hank comes back to the car and knocks on your window. You hop out, and Connor follows. 

“Who was on the phone?” You say before Hank can get a word in. “Was it Chris?”

“Yeah,” Hank says, a faraway look on his face. “He was attacked by a bunch of deviants while on patrol. Said he was saved by Markus himself.”

“Is he okay?” You ask quickly. 

Hank nods. “He’s in shock, but… he’s alive.”

He turns away and starts walking up the snow-covered stairs. “What the hell…”

You and Connor follow, falling in step side-by-side. You hate how right it feels, to be walking next to him (and you really hate how he slows his stride to match yours, because it just shows how much he cares – even if he doesn’t truly care).

“I have a bad feeling,” Connor says after a few moments of silence. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

“You and me both,” you mumble.

“Bad feeling, huh?” Hank says from in front of you and Connor. “Should get your program checked. Might be a glitch.”

You glance at Connor. He looks back at you and shakes his head, silently saying, That’s unlikely.

Hank steps up to the door and rings the doorbell. You and Connor stand behind him, idly waiting. After a few moments, a woman opens the door. Actually – an android opens the door.

“Uh, hi,” Hank says awkwardly. “I’m, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department. I’m here to see Mister Elijah Kamski.”

The android smiles and moves to the side, sweeping a hand to gesture inside. “Please, come in.”

Hank glances back at you and Connor, then steps inside. You and Connor follow, and the android closes the door.

“I’ll let Elijah know you’re here,” she says. Her voice is soft, and melodic. “But please, make yourself comfortable.”

The parlor is anything but comfortable. It’s a stark grey with fluorescent lights, and the (honestly, quite jarring) large portrait of Kamski looking down his nose at the occupants of the room doesn’t make it any better. 

Hank moves over to one of the chairs and sits down. It looks more like a piece of modern art than an actual seat. 

You come to stand beside his chair. “Fancy yourself Сердцеедом, huh?”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Hank grumbles. 

You laugh and rock onto the balls of your feet, then settle back down on your heels. “Apologies, sir.”

You watch Connor instead. He looks up at a picture of a younger-looking Kamski with an older black woman and mumbles something you don’t catch. You turn your eyes away to look at one of the indoor trees before he turns around.

“How would he maintain the tree while it was inside?” You ask nobody in particular. 

“It’s a sculpture,” Connor chimes as he walks over and sits down in the other seat. “It’s made from corten steel and has a layer of alloying elements to prevent oxidation.”

You reach out and touch one of the delicate-looking leaves. Sure enough, it doesn’t bend or really do much of anything under your touch. “Huh. Didn’t know Americans were so advanced in their… sculpture technology.”

You settle down on the arm of Hank’s chair and observe the room from there. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Nice girl,” Hank eventually says. 

“You’re right,” Connor says. He squints at something only he can see. “She’s really pretty.”

You ignore the creature (once prideful, now cloaked in jealousy) in your belly and reach behind you to nudge Hank slightly. Connor referred to an android as a she. Hank nudges you back and you return your hand to your lap. 

“Nice place,” Hank opts for instead. “Guess androids haven’t been a bad thing for everybody.”

He leans forward so your body isn’t blocking his line of sight with Connor. You lean back and perch your hands on the edge of the seat so it’s easier. “So, you’re about to meet your maker, Connor. How’s it feel?”

Connor continues staring forward for a second, then turns to look at Hank. “I don’t know.” He returns his gaze forward. “I’ll tell you when I see him.”

“Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face,” Hank says softly. His eyes turn to the floor. “I’d have a couple of things I’d wanna tell him.”

You turn your head to look at him. “I have a feeling you’d talk more with fists rather than words.”

“That I would.” He looks up at you. “What about you?”

You shrug. “I made my peace a long time ago. I’m not particularly afraid of death. Maybe of a painful death, but not of death itself.”

“So you’d prefer dying in your sleep?” Hank asks.

“I’d prefer you not asking that question at all!” You laugh. “But, yes. I suppose.”

The pretty android re-enters the parlor and holds the door to another room open. “Elijah will see you now.”

You stand, as does Hank. You take the lead into the next room with two sets of footsteps behind you. 

The room is an indoor pool. Across one of the walls is a large painting of a face, its eyes covered and smoothed over, the rest obscured and artifacted. One of the other walls is made up of a window that looks out onto the snowy landscape. 

But the real eye-catcher is the pool. It’s perfectly rectangular and lined with what looks like red granite. Two models of the android that greeted you into the home are on the side of the pool, both in navy bikinis. They don’t talk aloud, instead choosing to communicate through silent messages – as evidenced by their LEDs blinking every few seconds. 

The water in the pool, which at first glance seemed to be ox-blood-red, stirs as Kamski kicks off the edge, sending him through the water. 

“Мистер Камски?” You call politely. “Khm… Mister Kamski?”

“Just a moment, please,” he says, his voice filled with the smugness of an asshole that knows he has everyone in the room under his thumb. 

You follow Connor, who’s looking out the window, observing how the snow falls on the waxy leaves of the white pines. 

“Nice, isn’t it?” You say, just soft enough for him to hear. 

“Does it look like this back home in Russia?” Connor asks, his voice just as soft as yours. 

“Somewhat,” you say. “Giant sumpweed has taken over some parts and is making things ugly, last I saw. But there are conifers, like those.” You point at one of the pines, then look over your shoulder. “We’re getting distracted. Let’s go.”

You turn just in time to see Kamski pulling himself out of the pool, gripping the metal of the pool ladder as he does. One of the androids comes over, holding a black bathrobe. She helps Kamski into it, then she ties the knot at the front. 

He walks – almost wanders, honestly – near the wall-length window. He stops in front of a coffee table, still facing out, and ties his hair up neatly. 

Kamski turns so that he’s facing all three of you. He almost looks bored, as if he wasn’t the one who accepted this meeting in the first place. 

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson,” Hank says. He introduces you, then Connor. 

Kamski folds his hands in front of him, his gaze flicking between you and Hank. “What can I do for you?”

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants,” Hank says. “We know you left CyberLife some years ago, but… we were hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know.”

You dip your head, trying to come off as respectful as possible. “Mister Kamski, I work with deviants – dissect them, rather – regularly, trying to find the root cause of deviancy. But, as the days go, nothing changes. We’re making absolutely net zero progress in our investigation. Every answer just leads to more questions that poke holes in our answers.”

Kamski stares at you through his eyelashes for a long second before speaking. “Deviants… fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will.”

He glances at an android standing nearby in standby mode, her unblinking eyes staring perfectly ahead. “Machines are so superior to us. Confrontation was inevitable. Now, humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall.” He huffs out a laugh. “Isn’t it ironic?”

“We need to understand how androids become deviants,” Connor cuts in. You’re secretly glad for the break from Kamski’s droning voice. “Do you know anything that could help us?”

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics,” Kamski says. You fight the urge to roll your eyes so far back you’d be able to see your brain. “Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

“Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. If I wanted to, I’d ask this one.” Hank jabs a thumb at you. “The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that’ll be helpful, or we will be on our way.”

Kamski stares at Hank for a second, then walks to stand in front of Connor. “What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

Connor stares down at him, then his eyebrows twitch down. “It’s not about me, Mister Kamski. All I want is to solve this case.”

Kamski ducks his head and laughs. “Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say. But you…”

He steps closer to Connor. Connor keeps staring, unshaken and almost unblinking.

Kamski’s voice comes out as a hushed whisper. “What do you really want?” 

Connor’s lips tense into a thin line, then part. He glances away, then makes eye contact again. His chest rises in an unneeded, artificial breath. “What I want is… not important.”

Kamski keeps looking up at him. “Chloe?”

The android, who you now know has the designation Chloe, steps forward, her bare feet making soft sounds against the carpet.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test.” He turns Chloe by the shoulders so that she’s facing the three of you. “Mere formality – a simple question of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it the ‘Kamski test,’ it’s very simple, you’ll see…”

Kamski moves so that he’s standing beside Chloe. “Magnificent, isn’t it? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife.” He reaches out and touches her cheek, guiding her to face him. “Young and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither.”

You roll your shoulders back to suppress a shudder. Kamski’s handling Chloe like one would handle a cattle carcass, pointing out where the sirloin, tenderloin, top sirloin and bottom sirloin end and begin. 

“But what is it, really?” Kamski turns to face the three of you again. “A piece of plastic imitating a human?”

He walks back, opening a drawer on the coffee table and pulling something out. “Or a living being, with a soul?”

He turns, holding a pistol by the grip in a way that would make it impossible to fire. After a moment to establish that he’s not a threat, he walks forward and puts the gun in Connor’s hand. Connor’s index finger finds the trigger on instinct.

“It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” Kamski moves Connor’s arm so that he’s pointing the gun at Chloe. “Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it – if you feel it’s alive – but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

“Okay, I think we’re done here,” Hank cuts in. “C’mon, let’s go, both of you. Sorry to get you outta your pool.”

“What’s more important to you, Connor?” Kamski asks, drowning out Hank’s voice. “Your investigation, or the life of this android?”

“Enough of this bullshit,” you say. “Let’s leave.”

Connor doesn’t turn to even acknowledge that you said anything. He just stares down the sights of the pistol at Chloe, who looks up at him, a dead look on her face. 

“Decide who you are,” Kamski says in a hushed whisper. “An obedient machine? Or a living being, endowed with free will?”

“That’s enough!” Hank barks. He grabs your wrist to force you to follow him (not like you were planning on staying). “We’re leaving.”

“Pull the trigger,” Kamski whispers, like a devil on Connor’s shoulder. “And I’ll tell you what you wanna know.”

“Connor!” You snap. “Не смей.”

It seems to take Connor a tremendous amount of effort, but he eventually manages to bend his arm and offer the gun back to Kamski. 

“Fascinating,” Kamski breathes out as he takes the pistol. “CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity… is itself a deviant…!”

“I…” Connor tears his eyes away from Chloe to look at Kamski. “I’m not a deviant!”

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission.” Kamski helps Chloe up with his free hand. “You saw a living being in this android… you showed empathy.”

He dismisses Chloe with a light touch on her shoulder and turns to Connor. “A war is coming. You’ll have to choose your side… will you betray your own people, or stand up against your creators?”

Connor stares down at him, unblinking once again. 

Kamski tilts his head to the side, a sad smile on his face. “What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

Hank reaches out and grabs Connor’s shoulder, pulling him away. “Let’s get outta here.”

You follow after them, only stopping when Kamski calls out behind you. Connor stops next to you. 

“By the way,” he says. “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know.”

You tug Connor along by his wrist. “I could’ve told you that. I know his androids like the back of my hand.”

Connor stays silent, but lets you guide him out the front door and down the snowy steps. You only let go when Hank comes to a stop in front of you. 

He leans against the railing of the stairs and looks at Connor. “Why didn’t you shoot?”

Connor takes an artificial, sharp breath. He clenches his hands into fists, then releases them. A faint memory in your mind reminds you that the Ortiz android did that in the interrogation room, when he was under stress.

“I just saw that girl’s eyes… a-and I couldn’t, that’s all,” Connor manages. 

“You’re always saying you’d do anything to accomplish your mission,” Hank says. “That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go.”

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done!” Connor snaps. “I told you, I couldn’t.”

He faces Hank, his eyebrows drawn together. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Hank looks Connor up-and-down and smiles. “Well, maybe you did the right thing.”

He walks away, back towards the car. You smile to yourself, that light feeling in your chest again. You allow yourself to feel just a bit more hope – the spark is well-maintained, but still, it grows. 

You reach out and touch Connor’s wrist. His eyes snap to yours.

[catierambles]

Alternate Instincts Ch.30

"I want to thank you all for comin' on short notice." Sy said as the pack gathered in the apartment. It wasn't all of them as not all them were able to make it, but he knew they would get filled in by the others. "I wanted to get this over and done with before Steph had the chance to Girl Boss me out of it."

"Markus." Stephanie sighed, rubbing at her eyebrow and he winked at her. Well, he tried to, at least. She was standing with Geralt, his arms loosely around her waist as she leaned back against his chest.

"It's come to my--our--attention that some of you gotta problem with Steph." Sy said, "Some of you don't believe she's actually our Mate, that we're only with her because of what she lets us do to her in the bedroom."

"Which is shockingly vanilla, oddly enough." Stephanie said, "Well, Pornstache has his moments." That made a chuckle go through the group.

"Don't distract me." Sy said, pointing a finger at her. "I know she ain't a wolf, it's pretty fuckin' obvious to everyone here that she ain't a wolf, but she's our Mate regardless. Yeah, I got stabbed. Yeah, Walker got his face cut. Steph's gotta Feral after her, ain't leavin' her alone and makin' a nuisance of'imself."

"Her ex boyfriend?" One of them asked.

"Y'all know who it is?" Sy asked and a few of them nodded. "Did Frank know about'im? That he was a Feral?" More nodding.

"He told us to stay out of it, not say anything to her."

"Son of a bitch." Walter sighed.

"Makes sense, actually." Stephanie said, "I'm not a wolf, so I wasn't a part of his pack, and with the shit he was pulling, he probably wanted to keep the Council as far away from his business as possible."

"Whatever, he ain't here anymore." Sy said, "If any of you gotta problem with Steph, you gotta problem with us. She's our Mate. So if you gotta problem with her, there's the door, don't let it hit you on the way out. I ain't gonna evict ya, but you will have to find a new pack." No one moved. "That's what I thought. Playground rules. If you ain't got anythin' nice to say, then keep your mouth shut. Understood?" They nodded again wordlessly. "Good."

"I want to know who." August said, "Walter, are they here?"

"August." Stephanie said.

"No, Stephanie, I want to know if those women who said that shit about you are in this room. Walter?"

"Drop it, Walker." Stephanie said.

"Stephanie--"

"No. You think this is the first damn time I've dealt with catty bitches who never got out of their Mean Girl phase? Not even fucking close. So I'm telling you to drop it, August." She said and they stared at each other for a long moment before he looked away.

"Consider it dropped."

"Thank you."

The rest of the impromptu pack meeting had went decently well and a couple of the members actually approached Stephanie by the end of it, apologizing for not telling her about Jordan. She had accepted the apology but ultimately brushed it away, saying she understood why they hadn’t. Frank had suffered no disobedience and if he had found out they had gotten themselves even remotely involved, it would not have gone well for them.

Geralt had made the comment that if Frank had done his due diligence and contacted the Council about Jordan, that they probably would have sent him out to take care of it, as he was the closest stationed. The result being that he, and eventually the others, would have met Stephanie long before they actually did. He did also let them know that he would be speaking with his contact with the Council, letting them know about Frank’s inaction, putting another black mark on his already pitch dark record.

Walter could hear Stephanie on the phone as he worked on the computer in the office, going over spreadsheets of pack finances and paperwork. They may only be taking what was needed, but they still had to keep track of yearly earnings for tax purposes, just like any other business. The IRS classified packs as “social clubs” connected to the Pack Council and therefore it’s members were exempt from federal income taxes, but the Council still took membership dues and fees like any other social club and paid them out to whoever was running the pack, in this case Sy along Walter as his proxy. It was added to their rent every month. The number of members had to be kept track of, non-wolves who were involved with wolves in the pack (like Stephanie) were considered non-members but still a part of the pack, so they also had to be recorded along with gross annual income.

Lot of boring bureaucratic nonsense that came with running a pack and it was giving him a headache.

“Will you fucking stop it already?!” That made him look away from the screen. “Stop talking about them like that! I am never and I fucking repeat never going to agree with you when it comes to wolves. Britt is amazing and she makes Jack happy. Why can’t that be enough for you?! Who cares that Jack is a wolf now?! He loves Britt and wanted to share that with her! What the fuck is your malfunction!?” A pause. “Well of course they’re not human, mom! They’re wolves! And who fucking cares?! If you ever wonder why you and I don’t talk, this is why! So no, I am never going to a meeting with you, stop forwarding me shit about the “truth about wolves” and if you ever call them monsters to my face I swear to god I will smack the shit out of you. The only “monsters” I see are the ignorant, brain-dead bigots you associate with who target families for their hate. Well guess what, mom? I’m fucking five wolves on the regular. Sometimes more than one at once! Choke on that and die, you toxic bitch!” He pushed up from the computer chair as she gave out a sound of frustration, leaving the computer room to see her sitting on the couch in the living room, her head in her hands.

“Steph?”

“I don’t know why I try.” She said, picking her head up, “I don’t know why I let her get to me. I mean, of course she can push my buttons. She’s the one who fucking installed them.”

“Why did you call her?”

“She called me.” She said, “I was going to let it go to voicemail, but I decided to answer it. Big fucking mistake.”

“Steph, there’s something I’ve been wanting to bring up with you.” Walter said, “Now that you’re...even again.”

“Okay?” She asked and he went over, sitting next to her on the couch. Reaching over, he took her hand in his own, tangling their fingers.

“When you had your...episode, you asked Geralt to infect you.” He said and she sighed, looking away from him with a nod.

“I knew he was probably going to tell you guys, but I was hoping you had forgotten.”

“Do you still want him to? Or any of us?” He asked but she shook her head.

“I don’t, Walter. I’m sorry.” She said, “I don’t know why I asked him to do that. I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t fair of me to ask that of him after I told you all I didn’t want to be a wolf, but at the time I...” She gave another sigh, “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to stop being a disappointment.”

“You never were.” He said, “And you never will be.”

“I guess it’s why he didn’t do it then and there, huh?” She asked, “Because he knew?”

“Can’t speak for him, but probably.” Walter said, “If it had been me you had asked that of, I wouldn’t’ve then either.”

“I know August wants me to be a wolf. He says it doesn’t bother him that I don’t, but I can tell it does. If I had asked him, it would have been done before I was even finished asking.” Stephanie said, “Sy is almost...protective of my humanity. Like it’s some precious commodity for him to keep safe. He would have flat out told me no. Mike, I don’t know, Mike just kind of goes with it. If I had asked him, I think he would have hesitated but if that’s what I wanted, then that’s what I wanted.” In his opinion, she was spot-on with her assessments.

“We will love you no matter what.” He said and pulled her towards him with an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

“I know.” She said, “And I really do. No matter what my brain tells me sometimes. But I’m gonna need you all to stop being so damn perfect all the time. It’s doing nothing for my paranoia.”

“I’ll try.” Walter said with a snort, smiling against her hair.