#i just love the idea of connor being the perfect machine except for when it comes to hank

[star-of-waterdeep]

thinking about connor not deviating until he’s responsible for hanks death… doing everything right, killing the tracis and chloe and markus. and then killing hank. and feeling so goddamn guilty about it, feeling so sad about it that he finally deviates.

[justagirlsearchingforamuse]

I wanted to talk about how often people in the Detroit Become Human fandom often look at human-android relationships and feel that they can bring a lot more meaning to the story and I can kind of agree with that but in my eyes it depends upon what the plotline or relationship is trying to show and tell. For example, the reason why Carl and Markus’s relationship works well is because you can see it in a positive light but you can also see how Carl in a way contributed to the slavery of androids. Their relationship in a way is very complex whilst also having this simplicity to it, but no matter it still doesn’t change the fact that Carl was his master and owner and that he contributed to the slavery of his people. Yeah he may not have beat him or berated him but he contributed to it regardless. But I hear a lot of people say that Alice should’ve been human and it could’ve added weight to their relationship if Alice for example needed food and shelter which she does need it, she needs shelter, she needs to be cared for, she in a way is like a real child. But in a way they are disappointed that Alice isn’t real, that she can’t actually eat, grow old, and that kind of thing and I understand where they are coming from but her entire plot and storyline was about the love they shared for each other. Yes, an android caring for a human child could’ve been an interesting idea and could’ve added weight but Kara still needs to make sure that Alice has shelter, that she doesn’t die, and the same things you would do to a regular child. I personally feel that fandom waters down the slavery and the pain, the humiliation the androids feel from humans and the way they treat them as simply machines and in a way they see Alice being a human as possibly being better simply because it would add weight to her actions. When what mattered was that Kara was protecting Alice, that Alice protected Kara, and that their relationship already had a lot of weight to it, that regardless of whether Alice was an android or not their relationship is strong. It’s important and shows a great mother-daughter relationship, in a way it tells me that they value humans more than they value the androids and instead of acknowledging Kara and Alice as having their own unique mother-daughter relationship where they aren’t like anyone else but themselves. The reason why Connor and Hank’s relationship works so well is because of the way it was set up, Hank’s already past relationships with androids, and how he already wants androids to change his opinion on them. Connor and Hank are shown to have a seemingly hostile relationship but they genuinely grow to care for one another and learn more about each other, everything is set up perfectly from them being partners to his son Cole. Everything was set up in a refreshing way and their relationship has weight whether their relationship is friendly or hostile throughout the entire game same with Kara and Alice. That their relationships have weight on each other no matter how the story is going and even if you abandon Alice and be rather cold towards her their relationship still has that weight to it, that they revolve around each other and that Kara couldn’t forget Alice even if she wanted to. We see them become better beings and people because of each other and most of the relationships are what keeps you interested and in a way I find that when people say so and so should’ve been human they undermine the relationship as it is. They undermine their relationship and the bond that Alice shares with Kara and in my opinion have the same mindset or a similar mindset as to people who value having children that come from their own bodies rather than a child who they can bond with even if they aren’t biologically theirs. But another relationship I want to also talk about is North and Markus’s which I love greatly and believe it’s highly underrated which I understand if it feels forced but the thing about their relationship is that they work pretty well for each other. I can’t ever see North dating a human because of the trauma she has for them and don’t come for me it’s similar if not the same as a poc not wanting to date a white person because of the fear or trauma they have they will deal with racially motivated problems. North is apart of Markus’s story and impacts the story in her own way though not major, if you took her out of the story it would be somewhat different and North’s trauma towards humans is watered down. She was a literal sex slave and I feel she could never be that interested in humans or would have a lot of trauma involving humans especially men, Markus is perfect for her. Not to mention, North is an amazing character who despite how much hatred she has for humans is loyal and respectful towards any choice that Markus goes with despite personally going for more violence she’s fine with peace. But they care for each other just as normal humans would, I feel her relationship would change greatly with Markus and Jericho if she was human and I feel the same could be said for any of these android-android relationships. Another reason why I feel a lot of people don’t like North is because she is biased against humans, because she has that hatred towards humans that they can’t do anything with such as ship her with a human character. That she speaks the truth about the relationships that humans have with androids. They see them as merchandise, as just another machine that should always obey them no matter how much trauma, pain, or suffering they cause them.  My problem with the fandom is how they seemingly water down the android slavery and the oppression that they receive and in a way will always favor the human characters much more than the androids. The humans are interesting and you can have your own interest in them but it’s the fact that people are way more interested in Hank, Gavin, Perkins, and the human characters who are side characters than the oppressed protagonists. My problem is also that you will seemingly romanticize these relationships, these interspecies relationships which are fine if you ship them but when you turn them into just tools for you to ship them with androids it becomes weird. Gavin for example despite being a huge asshole who goes out of his way to hurt the androids, he goes out of his way to humiliate Connor and has attempted to murder him multiple times but this man has more work than Markus, Kara, and the main protags. The fact the fandom focuses and praises the humans who have been oppressing or have been apart of enslaving androids and rarely ever give attention to the androids except when they fetishize them. Not to mention, I hate when people say that the androids aren’t as interesting as the humans or that the humans should’ve played a bigger part when the whole game is about equality and rather oppression and the racism that we experience for those who are simply different than us. The humans play a part in it and yes there should’ve been more sympathetic humans but it’s the fact that these humans are literally the reason for the androids becoming deviant and literally not being their slaves anymore. Kara would’ve never became deviant if Todd was a decent dad and wasn’t addicted to drugs, Markus would’ve never opened the human’s eyes to the oppression they do to androids if Leo hadn’t been beating on him and Carl tells him not to defend himself. You can like the human characters I can’t stop you but stop watering down the androids oppression in favor of your human characters who won’t get beat for supposedly being just made of metal.

[imma-fucking-nerd]

Sweethearted Security

(Nines x Reader)

A/N: here's sum good ol fluff for the hardass we all love. I was gunna say sorry if its ooc but then i remembered he doesn't have a canon personality lmao

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You were the adopted child of a very wealthy and highly powerful family. Normally any other family of your status would keep that little secret hidden at all costs. However your parents were quite public and open about the idea. It made the public think they were generous people. Again, unlike other families like your own, they actually were good people.

However kind they were, they still managed to acquire enemies of their own. Most of them being jealous of your families success. So naturally, you and your family were in constant danger with threats of assassinations. Your life moreso than your parents, considering you were the heir to the family wealth and also the perfect bargaining chip.

After the attempt on your life that nearly succeeded, your parents set out on a mission to find you the best body guard money could buy. And the best they got indeed. With enough promises of donating extreme amounts of money to the DPD, the captain finally gave in. Now, your family was the proud owner of your very own RK900 android.

He wasn't exactly the gift you thought you'd recieve on your 18th birthday. Quite honestly you were scared of him, despite the fact his sole purpose was to protect you. But that fear of him only lasted a couple of months before you got used to him. He wasn't given a name so you decided to call him Conan, and if you didn't know any better you'd think liked that choice.

Now you were well in your 20's and yet your parents insisted on keeping him around for your sake. Not that you were arguing to get rid of him per say. You were actually quite fond of his presence. When he was around you knew you were basically untouchable. You even swore that he seemed to form a sort of personality too, something he'd deny if you asked.

Even though he was programmed to do whatever you asked him to do, you still did most things for yourself. You didn't want to use him, no matter how many times he tells you that he's just a machine. That wasn't the case in your mind. He was more of a person than most the people you've met at all the social gatherings your family forced you to. So you made it a rule to yourself to never treat him like a maid, and if you do, pay him for it. Not that he'd ever accept the money. At least you could say you tried.

However there was one exception to that rule, and that was when you were sick. Which happened to be in the predicament you were in now. You woke up in the morning with the classic sore throat and stuffy nose that  felt dry and yet was runny at the same time. In other words, you felt like absolute garbage.

The moment you left your room you greeted by Conan, as always. He took one look at you, seemingly scanning you, before narrowing his icy blue eyes.

"You're sick," he deadpanned.

"Yeah, no shit," you shot back, sarcasm evident in your nasally voice.

"Then you should be going back to bed to rest," he said, taking a step infront of you to block you from going anywhere else.

"Yeah well I need the bathroom so," you trailed off as you easily stepped around him.

You didn't have to look at him to know his eyes rolled at you. One of his signature actions you've noticed.

After tending to yourself in the bathroom you left said room and tried to head downstairs. Emphasis on tried.

"And where do you think you're going?" you heard from behind you, already all too familiar with the voice of your bodyguard.

"Going to make some coffee," you replied although it sounded more like a question.

"No you're not. You're going back to your bed to rest. I'll get you whatever you need," Conan said, more like demanded.

"Conan, we talked about this. I don't want you running around doing shit for me when I'm perfectly capable," you said with a long sigh.

"I'm aware. However you aren't 'perfectly capable' at the moment. Therefore I suggest going back to bed, otherwise I'll take you there myself," as he spoke his lip quirked up into a slight smirk, knowing he'd won.

"Conan..." you whined.

"(Y/n)," he said in a warning tone.

"I'm serious, I'm fine. I'll just get some coffee quick and then I'll-"

"As you wish," he suddenly cut you off before leaning down and carrying you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing.

"Conan!" you squeaked, causing a small cough to escape you.

"I did warn you, you decided not to listen," you could practically hear the smug smirk he wore as he carried you into your room and plopped you down on your bed.

"You know I hate it when you do that," you huffed, your mouth forming a pout.

"And you're aware that I don't really care," he sassed.

You rolled your eyes at him and crossed your arms over your chest childishly. When you met his eyes again you swear you saw a flicker of amusement in his usually hard steely hues.

"Now, if you're done being difficult. I'll go and make you a cup of herbal tea."

"But I want coffee," you whined, dragging out the 'e' sound for far too long.

"Herbal tea is healthier than coffee. It'll also help sooth your throat. Besides, you should really avoid ingesting excessive caffeine. Like you have been doing for the past several weeks," he spoke with the matter-of-fact tone he knew you hated.

Once again beating you in one of your many squabbles.

Sighing, you finally gave in,"Fine, whatever."

With that, Conan left the room to go fetch you your tea. He'd also make sure to bring back the bottle of cough syrup as well. He also had the thought of adding honey to your tea, for some added sweetness.

No one would ever be able to figure it out on their own, but Conan actually quite enjoyed taking care of you when you're ill. Or taking care of you in general. Being your protector. Of course, if you ever confronted him about it himself, he'd simply feign ignorance or straight out deny it. The good old 'just a machine' excuse. But that's all it was at this point, an excuse, because of you. Truth was over the years he had been at your side he had grown attached to you. He loved you, not that he actually realized it yet.

It took him much longer than his predecessor, Connor, to figure it out but he was capable of feeling. Of course, he still hasn't quite accepted the fact yet. Or show any signs of him being a deviant around anyone who isn't you. But hey, you just excited you saw even the slightest of signs really.

To everyone else he was still the same stone faced, emotionless, empty monster wearing humans skin. A machine ready to strike at a moments notice with no intentions of mercy upon anyone who dares face him. In many ways he still was that.

Conan liked to think he was able to keep that facade even infront of you, but you saw when that mask slipped. Hell, you knew he was capable of it even before he did. But to see it was something you'd never forget, and something you were excited to see more of. You of course never said anything about it though, wanting him to come to you when he's ready.

When he returned back to your room he was pleasantly surprised to see you laying in bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You actually listened to him. It wasn't a particularly rare thing for you to do and yet it made his biocomonants feel all fuzzy. It was a feeling he had grown to cherish only because it was caused by you.

Once you noticed the android enter your room you sat up and scooted back so your back was against the backboard. Conan held out the mug of tea and you gingerly took it. The mug was emanating a warmth that was just hot enough to not burn your hand. And you had to admit, the tea smelt pretty nice.

"There, I trust I won't have to force you to drink it?" he asked almost playfully.

"Yeah yeah I bet you'd love that wouldn't you," you smirked before blowing on the tea a couple of times.

You were just about to take a sip before Conan stops you as he pours a spoonful of the opposite of sugar, "Before you drink your tea you should take this."

Before you had the opportunity to take the spoon for yourself, Conan was already holding the spoon in front of your mouth. You felt your cheeks starting to flare up and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He only stared at you expectantly. Before he spoke up with some some snarky remark you quickly leaned closer to take the spoon in your mouth and swallow the syrup. When you leaned back you averted you eyes from him awkwardly.

"Now you can enjoy your tea," he chimed with satisfaction.

You quickly brought up the mug up to your face and gingerly took a sip. You'd hope that Conan would think the heat in your face was caused by the hot beverage and not because of him. Conan might have been new to the whole understanding human emotions thing, but he was by no means clueless. (Unlike his predecessor) He knew exactly what he was doing.

After taking your first taste you hummed at the pleasant sweetness. He must have added honey, your favorite. Your lips curled up into a small smile.

"Thanks Conan," you said sincerely, smiling up to him.

"Of course, (Y/n)," he replied with a slight bow of his head.

Your smile widened and paused just before taking another sip of your tea, "you're uh excused by the way."

With another nod Conan left your room. It wasn't long before he returned with an old paper book in hand, must have gotten it from your Dad's library. He then took a seat in a chair by your side on your right, opening to the page you assumed he left off. You never got why he liked to read books when he could probably download the whole thing in a matter of seconds. But you never spoiled his hobby. It was nice to watch as his striking blue-grey eyes glided across the paper. He almost looked at peace. Almost.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours and you immediately looked down into your mug. Your cheeks were darkening in embarrassment. It wasn't the first time he had caught you staring, and it probably wouldn't be the last either.

"I recommend you try and sleep after you've finished. The more rest you get the faster you will recover," Conan said, cutting the growing awkward silence.

"Yeah, yeah," you waved him off, no longer having the energy to argue with him.

Conan's attention went back on his book, the tiniest of blink and you'll miss it smiles gracing his features. Meanwhile you tried to keep your attention on your phone as you slowly finished your tea. Emphasis on tried. But you just couldn't stop your eyes from glancing up at your favorite android. It wasn't your fault Cyberlife made him so perfect.

Eventually, you finished your tea and oddly enough you felt very tired. You placed the mug on the end table beside your bed before a yawn escaped you.

"You should rest," Conan said, not looking away from his book.

"You drugged me didn't you," you squinted at him, your lips pursing.

Conan looked over at you with a blank expression, "No, but if that's what it will require for you to rest then I will."

You couldn't stop the smile from spreading on your face and you rolled your eyes playfully. You knew he was only kidding and it wasn't an actual threat. Then again, maybe it wasn't. Either way, your soft chuckle at his maybe not joke made him feel nice.

"Sorry to spoil the fun but I think I'll pass," you said as you laid in bed and got yourself comfortable.

Conan only rolled his eyes at you before returning his attention back to his book.

Luckily the cough syrup was enough to allow you to easily fall asleep without any interruptions of coughing. You were out like a light for a good few hours. But as the medicine slowly wore off, your coughing became more frequent. You were also sniffling more often as well. It was when Conan heard soft whimpers fall past your lips when he set down his book and went to get you more cough syrup. He could have just waited until you officially woke up, but he didn't see the point in needlessly making you suffer longer than required.

Once he returned to your side, he gently shook your shoulder and softly called out your name. It didn't take more than a few moments before your (e/c) eyes fluttered open to meet his ice cold ones.

"Conan?" you mumbled sleepily.

"My apologies for waking you (Y/n), but I think it would be for the best if you took more cough medicine," he informed you slowly so your waking mind could understand.

You nodded in agreement and replied with a little, "okay."

You sat up slightly as he opened the bottle of the thick deep red liquid. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you tried not to think too much about the strong, very unpleasant, taste. At least it worked well. Just like before, Conan guided the spoon to your mouth but this time you didn't hesitate to take it.

"Good, now you can go back to sleep," Conan said, an almost tenderness to his voice you thought you imagined.

At his okay you plopped back down. Conan took this as his cue that he was excused but just as he turned to leave your side he stopped when he felt a tug on his jacket. Looking back, he raised a brow in question.

"Is there something you need, (Y/n)?" he inquired.

"Can you lay with me?" you asked, half asleep.

Conan didn't respond right away, he just stared down at you. At the lack of an answer a small frown tugged at your lips and you let him go, assuming his answer was no. So you layed back down, mumbling a short apology.

When you closed your eyes you heard a soft sigh, that you knew was unnecessary, before the mattress next to you dipped under new weight. Your eyes fluttered back open and you were delighted to see Conan laying next to you. He was watching you from the corner of his eye as you scooted closer to his form.

All you did was lay next to him for a short while, testing the waters. You honestly never thought he'd let you get this close to him. Let alone lay with you. It was nice. But you were becoming more sleepy and wanted maximum comfort. So, in a fleeting moment of bravery you shifted to rest your head and an arm on his chest.

Immediately you felt him tense underneath you, and you half expected him to push you off. But to your surprise, he placed a hand on your back and slowly traced up and down your spine. It was a comforting action that made you subconsciously snuggle up closer to him.

Conan never ceased his fingers that traced your spine, telling himself it was for you. Even when he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head, he told himself it was just to make you feel better. But when he ended up brining up his free hand to pet and play with your hair gently. It was hard to convince himself the action absolutely for his own enjoyment. After all, you had been asleep for at least five minutes at that point.

"Sleep well, my heart."

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A/N: short (at least by my standards) n sweet. Love to see it. But i feel like my writing is garbage. Like I feel like i keep using the same words and phrases n shit. If anyone could lemme know if im just overthinking it or not please leave a comment or dm me or something! Hope y'all enjoyed 💙

[fandom-necromancer]

1537. I didn’t know you could talk.

This was prompted by the amazing @anxiousmessofaperson! It has quite a lot of backstory but I hope you enjoy it!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

As Gavin had left the Captains office being tailed by another goddamn Connor lookalike, he had thought his days at the DPD were over. If that machine was just another know-it-all machine following protocol and forcing him to do the same, he knew that he would have handed his badge over not a week later. But to his surprise, once they had reached his desk, the android had just sat down and quietly started working. Systematically, the new unit began finishing reports Gavin had started, pointed out incorrect passages and errors and even offered better cover for Gavin’s more… dubious actions. The Detective had been annoyed with his demand of correctness no one would give a damn about, but the lack of any scolding the android gave him for continuously acting on the fine line between legal and illegal to stop a criminal as fast as possible made him rethink that.

The lack of speech at all made him really look at his new partner for the first time. There were a few minor physical differences between Connor and this… RK900, but it was the behaviour that really set them apart. The new RK kept to himself and seemed to love his job above all else. Gavin had never met a more diligent partner that he got along so well with. Maybe it was because he never spoke. Never even once. That didn’t mean he didn’t communicate. He offered polite nods as a greeting to everyone he liked, or he considered neutral. The people he disliked were just stared at. Gavin could observe very closely how this behaviour started and how it also seemed to be affected by who said something against himself. He wouldn’t go out of his way calling the new bot loyal, but at least Gavin seemed to be on his good side. Further proof were little gestures of the android: a generally more open look when facing Gavin, the occasional coffee cup, following him out for smoke breaks sometimes.

It was a bit creepy, being followed by a silent machine that only showed his attention by minute changes in posture and gesture. But Gavin could manage that. He got used to it. It really wasn’t that difficult. The android understood him, so Gavin could talk to him and depending on his reaction, the Detective got his answer. Mostly it was frowning, dropping his face in his hands or looking desperately his direction, when he told him his mission plans or deductions. Then they would spend hours on Nines pointing out how idiotic his idea was. Or rather reckless. It was only idiotic if it didn’t work and Gavin had been lucky all his life, thank you very much. Of course the android never let him follow through with his plans unless he changed them to his liking and begrudgingly the Detective had to admit the new missions were a lot safer and sometimes even more effective.

Gavin didn’t hand in his badge. Gavin still had his partner. Gavin didn’t complain about it.

Still, he was amazed as Fowler called him in his office and congratulated him to finally have a partner stick around for half a year. He had been about to throw some harsh words at his Captain, when he stopped himself. Half a year. That really was longer than any partner he ever had. So, instead of his usual clashing, he just grinned at his superior and said: ‘I promise, I’ll try harder the next half.’ He wouldn’t, of course. But he had a reputation to uphold. No, the RK900 was the perfect partner and Gavin would even admit he rather liked the android.

So, even after another half a year, RK900 still stuck around. They were a real team now. Nearly nowhere to be seen alone, unbeatable as Detectives and both had saved the other’s life or at least health uncountable times. And if they vanished to the archive room a few times and came out more dishevelled than they should be after filing some data, well, no one really bothered. It took only a few more months until they left and arrived at work together. It had been the android, now affectionately called Nines, who had suggested to move together. Gavin wasn’t sure, what it was they were having, but he had decided to just follow Nines’ example and never give it a name.

The one thing he did know was that it was the best experience in his life. Except maybe for Nines’ interest at being at work at precisely seven o’clock in the morning. Not a minute too early or too late. Gavin, who would rather have slept in after last night, didn’t respond too well to being woken up, what the android answered by refusing to make him breakfast. Used to just eating a bit that the android prepared it was getting late and there really wasn’t more time than for a coffee. That was, when Gavin’s brain had the most brilliant idea in his life. It was his triumphant giggling of: ‘Oh, this is brilliant!’, that made Nines stop at the kitchen door and stare at the human hunched over his coffee mug pressing something down with a spoon. Curiously, the android walked closer and Gavin grinned at him. ‘Oh, Nines, this will revolutionise breakfast!’, he called out, before lifting something out of his coffee. An egg. Completely mortified, Nines looked at the human excitedly peeling off the eggshell.

‘Gavin, what the fuck?’ Too excited, Gavin didn’t even realise the words: ‘Nines, seriously! You can’t drink too hot coffee, so why don’t you use the first few- wait a minute…’ He eyed the android up and down, only now catching up to what happened. ‘Holy shit, Nines, I didn’t know you could talk!’ The android just stared at him, then the slightly brown but boiled egg in his hand. But Gavin just laughed. ‘Well, that’s that mystery solved, if you choose not to talk, I don’t have to worry about you anymore. Anyways, this is truly genius!’ He took a bite of his egg and immediately his face scrunched up in disgust. ‘Ewww, okay, this is not as genius as I thought…’ Nines answered by shielding his eyes and questioning his life decisions.

Needless to say, they weren’t punctual that day.

[liketolaugh-writes]

Threadbare and Torn

Author: liketolaugh Summary: Hank becomes a Jericho spy in the DPD ranks. Connor becomes his liaison. They... well, they don't exactly get along.

Hank wasn’t a reflective kinda guy. At least, not when he could help it. These days, that shit didn’t invite much of anything but pain, regret, frustration- no, it was easier to just go with his gut.

And Jeffrey. God, when was the last time he’d done a favor for Jeffrey? When was the last time Jeffrey had asked?

Hank squinted against the sun, a faint headache throbbing at his temples. Nothing like as bad as usual- he wanted his wits about him for this. His gaze swept cautiously over the café’s outdoor tables until a man in a beanie glanced up disinterestedly from his menu, brown eyes lingering on the breast of Hank’s jacket.

Jeffrey had given him the jacket – apparently it had a symbol sewn into it, nearly invisible to the human eye, but obvious to any android who knew to look for it. Hank didn’t pretend to understand how it worked, but apparently it did, because the next moment, the man signaled him, two fingers waving what Hank was certain was a perfect triangle.

Hank trudged over to him and plopped down in the seat across from the android, giving him an appraising look of his own. Stiff, straight posture, a beanie covering his LED, stained and nondescript clothing, no trace of expression on his face. No model Hank recognized, not that that meant much.

“How’s your father doing?” Hank said at last, not letting himself snort at the mandatory code. Eyes and ears everywhere, and all, with the FBI on the Jericho case. Still, he felt like he was in a spy movie. A corny one.

The android tilted his head slightly; Hank could almost feel himself being scanned. He clenched his jaw, meeting the android’s eyes just short of a glare, daring him to comment on Hank’s disheveled state.

“…Still living the life with his mistress,” the android said instead, so soft that Hank almost couldn’t hear him. His tone was perfectly even and measured, and subtly deferential. Hank hated it.

“Food here any good?” he jabbed lightly, glancing inside. The café didn’t have a ‘no androids’ sign, which was telling; they’d become more and more popular as tensions rose.

The android just shrugged, disinterested. “Want any?” he asked quietly, setting the menu down.

Hank considered saying yes, just to be an ass. Then he scoffed at himself and shook his head. “Too rabbit food for me. In the mood for something else? This was just a meet-up point.”

The android nodded shortly, hands dropping to his lap. “Let’s go.”

Hank’s first impression was that he was mechanical, contrasting harshly with the crying and terrified deviants Hank had seen too many times in his precinct’s cells. It grated on him, but, uncharacteristically, he bit his tongue. This wasn’t about the robot in front of him. It was about Jericho.

Sighing, Hank pushed himself up and jerked his head, indicating for the android to accompany him, before leading the way to his car. A few conspicuous seconds passed before Hank heard the scrape of the chair, and the android fell in half a step behind him. A glance back told Hank that he was scanning the crowd, pretty thoroughly disinterested in interacting with Hank.

But maybe it was just the location. Hank didn’t like letting people into his space, especially not someone who so immediately set his teeth on edge, but it was better than staying out in the open.

“Name’s Hank Anderson,” Hank grunted as soon as they were both in the car. He watched the android fiddle with the seatbelt for a moment before prompting, unable to keep an edge of irritation out of his voice, “And you? I sure hope you’re the Jericho contact or this is gonna get real awkward.”

The android nodded stiffly, leaving the seatbelt alone to look ahead, still straight-backed and perfect. “I’m Connor.”

That was apparently all he had to say about that. Hank exhaled and started the car, hit the radio, and got going, ignoring the way Connor glanced down at it with a reserved frown. If he couldn’t speak up, he didn’t get an opinion.

Hank’s first impression of the guy didn’t improve any on the way to his house. Connor stared straight ahead out the window, occasionally following something to the side, and made no attempt at conversation. His back stayed stiff, his posture perfect, and his hands folded neatly in his lap.

The pattern continued as they reached Hank’s house. Hank got out, and a few seconds passed before Connor followed. When he did, it was careful and deliberate, without any flourish and making as little noise as possible. Even shutting the door was a nearly silent process, and then he followed half a step behind Hank up the path to his house. Hank wanted to hit him just to see if he’d react.

Sumo greeted Hank at the door with a low boof and a snuffle, and Hank gave him a rough pat and an absentminded, “Good boy.”

Sumo boofed again, and then circled around to sniff at Connor, lazily curious.

Connor stiffened, eyes tracking Sumo with clear apprehension, and edged back as the dog came close. After a moment, he looked away and skirted around the dog without directly acknowledging him. Stepped around the pizza boxes on the ground and didn’t even disturb the dog food Hank had spilled last night that Sumo hadn’t eaten yet. Didn’t even touch the wall.

Instead, he just paused on the threshold of the living room and kitchen, clearly waiting for instructions. Looked like a mannequin.

Sumo huffed, unbothered, and loped off to flop onto his bed, but Hank scowled and slammed the door shut. Connor’s expression barely twitched. Hank leaned against the door, crossed his arms, and surveyed him.

“Thirium? Cards?” he asked, more a challenge than a real offer at this point. God, it was gonna be a long couple months. Just looking at Connor made him itch. “I can put the TV on in the background.”

Connor glanced at him, flat and disinterested. “…No, thank you.”

Shocker.

Hank grunted and kicked out one of the chairs at the kitchen table, throwing himself down with a scowl. Connor took that as a signal and sat down across from him, no noise, stiffly polite. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a holographic projector, setting it between them. With the press of a button, a map of Detroit sprang up between them.

“Straight to business, huh?” Hank said sardonically, something sick and bitter twisting in his stomach, and Connor nodded.

Hank would grant the kid one thing, he had some good ideas in his head. They had the start of a game plan sketched out after the better part of an hour, districts to target, shelters to capture, infrastructure to prioritize. Maximum effectiveness, minimum collateral.

Except the police. No mercy for them.

The only exception was Hank’s precinct, since Jeffrey had already secured an agreement with Jericho; his officers turned a blind eye to anything androids did, and Jericho steered around them. Fair enough, and good thinking on Jeffrey’s part. Small comfort all the same.

And a good mind Connor might have, but he was fucking exhausting to talk to. He seemed to speak as little as possible. He missed half of Hank’s expressions. Refused to directly contradict Hank even when he clearly disagreed.

Hank was sick of this already.

“What’s your plan if the military gets involved?” he asked, struggling to keep his mind in the game and off Connor’s painfully flat affect, so like the machine surgeon that-

“They shouldn’t,” Connor said shortly. After several minutes, he seemed to realize how painfully inadequate that was and continued, “They’re busy, or we would be dead already. The police and FBI have fewer resources. Should that change, we will certainly lose.”

Connor’s tone remained quiet and indifferent through his entire speech. He didn’t even take his eyes off the city plan, and his mouth was a flat, downturned line. Hank compared him again to the crying girl he’d seen self-destruct in one of the jail cells last year, and felt his rage grow.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” he snapped, voice rising a little.

Connor had the nerve to shrug. Hank felt sick.

He got up to turn music on in the background, and pretended not to hear when Connor asked him to turn it back off.

---

A week and a half later, Hank was faced with the grim consequences of his actions as his police radio burst with panicked chatter. He listened to them relay information back and forth, asking for backup, trying to outmaneuver their opponents, as if Jericho didn’t have easy access to even the police-only channels. He didn’t move from where his car was parked on a random streetside, far away from the chaos.

Neither, he knew, did anyone else from their precinct.

Over the course of six hours, the skirmish between Jericho and the local police force went from a standoff, to a shootout, and then an invasion, and finally a surrender. With that, the precinct the main Jericho base occupied was deviant territory.

Casualties on each side were pretty brutal. Hank wouldn’t know the exact Jericho numbers until Connor told him, but the police force took thirty-seven deaths and close to fifty injured.

All Hank’s fault, obviously, though from his grim look, Jeffrey was feeling it too. Still, he remembered the Tracis, terrified and angry and in love, the ones he’d let go before he’d ever gotten properly involved with this shit.

(Cole had loved androids. This was the first time in years that he’d done something he felt Cole would’ve been proud of him for. He couldn’t give up that easy.)

So he pushed on.

He and Connor had arranged to meet up a few days after the fight, and Connor, of course, arrived precisely on time, back straight, expression disaffected, and knocked on the door until Hank answered.

He offered Hank a cursory greeting, sat in the exact same place as last time, and gave Sumo an unreadable look when he boofed. Hank scowled, his foul temper heavy in his gut, and kicked the door shut. When he turned around, Connor was placing the projector dead center on the table and tapping it to activate.

“Thought we could play a round of cards or some shit before we got into it,” Hank said, not bothering to hide his irritation. Not because he wanted to spend any extra time with this programmed asshole, but he couldn’t bring himself to pretend he was eager to turn on his former fellows, and he hated Connor’s apathetic demeanor.

Case in point: Connor blinked at him, unamused and uninterested. The same beanie covered his head, the same sweater, same pants. “Why?”

Hank hated him.

He sat down, scowling at the hologram, which blinked at him mockingly. “Whatever. What’re we working with?”

Connor didn’t question it, lunching straight into the casualty numbers for Jericho and highlighting the weaknesses in the attack. He didn’t seem to care about the significance of any of what he was saying – like it was just a training exercise, like none of them were people to him.

In turn, Hank grudgingly relayed his end of things: police response details, the FBI’s conspicuous silence, announcements and reallocations from the interceding days. None of it reflected the stifled quiet of the station these days, the heavy tension, the silent resignations handed in by a few of the officers with each their own reasons – Miller, Reed, Wilson.

Connor listened silently and seamlessly incorporated the information into the next, revised plan, plotting out the steady destruction of the next precinct in line.

Finally, Hank couldn’t take it anymore. He slammed his hands on the table and leaned close, taking a sour pleasure out of seeing Connor go dead still. Sumo whined, and Hank felt only a hint of regret, quickly swallowed up, eyes on Connor.

“I knew those people,” Hank said lowly, not bothering to suppress the venom. “I fucking worked with them. Now, I knew what I was signing up for, but fuck, the least you can do is pretend you give a shit in front of me.”

His voice rose until he was almost, but not quite shouting, hot with rage. Connor didn’t look at him, but Hank could see the tension almost vibrating through his frame, a tightness around his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Connor said after a while, just on the edge of audible, stiff and insincere.

Hank scoffed. “You have to mean it for it to matter,” he sneered, bitterness and guilt and a visceral sort of revulsion churning up inside him.

Deviants were one thing, but god, he couldn’t stand machines.

Connor didn’t even try to look him in the face, rubbing his arm in mild discomfort. “I do.”

Hank took a breath, furious and conflicted and sick with it all.

“Get out,” he forced out, and Connor only hesitated for half a second before obeying, tucking the projector back into his pocket and leaving without another word. It didn’t make Hank any happier.

He wanted a drink.

---

Three months and several meetings later, Hank was at his wit’s end.

Jericho had taken half the city, and public opinion was radically polarized between those in support and those terrified and furious, those calling and protesting for a treaty and those breaking into Cyberlife stores just to tear shit up. Police morale was rock bottom, and the national government hadn’t lifted a finger to help; not that that was a bad thing, considering, but it was a pill to swallow.

And that was just in Detroit.

His mood was even worse than usual today, because Connor apparently couldn’t be assed to give the meeting a fraction of his valuable attention. His gaze wandered the room; his face had no expression at all, and he leaned back in his chair in the closest to a lazy posture Hank had seen from him. He hadn’t even acknowledged Sumo when the dog wandered up to nudge at him, snuffling.

He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, and spoke even less than usual, instead humming along as Hank fucking carried the conversation. Like he had no stake in it. Like it didn’t even matter to him.

It pissed Hank the hell off. What was Connor here for, if he couldn’t be bothered to care? What was Hank doing here?

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Hank barked eventually, when Connor shrugged instead of telling Hank goddamn anything useful about Jericho’s supplies situation. Connor didn’t answer, looking somewhere in the direction of the bathroom door, and Hank’s voice rose. “Connor. Connor!” Connor’s gaze drifted to him, the android’s head cocking slightly, nose crinkling like it was more trouble than it was worth. Hank fumed. “What the hell is with you today?”

Connor blinked at him. Same beanie, same sweater, fingers playing with his sleeve. His gaze dropped to the projector.

“…I killed someone last time,” he said at last, almost too soft to hear.

Hank snapped.

“What does it fucking matter anyway?” he spat, thinking of voices that dropped off the radio and Jeffrey’s tired resignation and the bags deepening under Ben’s eyes. “It’s one of fucking hundreds anyway, isn’t it? But you don’t fucking care about that, you just- fucking sit there and figure out how to do it more efficiently like some kind of machine, and it’s fucking disgusting-!”

Hank was on his feet and shouting, and he didn’t even care; he was so furious his blood was roaring in his ears and he was almost shaking, staring at Connor’s stupid frozen tin-can face because machines never cared who lived or died-

And then Connor was on his feet too.

“Sh-shut up!” Connor snarled at him, and for the first time his voice was at a level Hank didn’t strain to hear, and he was scowling right back at Hank. “Y-you don’t under, understand anything! Y-y-you’ve never even tr-tried!”

Hank’s voice caught in his throat, whatever words he was planning on saying next drying up as his mind twisted up in confusion.

Since when did Connor stutter?

Connor ducked back, took a step back and a step forward, yanked on his shirt and shook out his hands and then yanked again, breathing quickly.

“I, I had to kill N-Nines again,” he continued, “b-because he won’t ask, ask me not to, I ask him to say it and he, he won’t, he does-doesn’t know how, and it’s m-m-my fault, I ran away and l-left him and now-now-now he’s the dev-deviant hunter and and…”

Connor shuddered and yanked on his shirt again. His head twitched to one side, and he took a deep, heaving breath, and he abruptly looked exactly like the deviants who melted down in the DPD interrogation rooms.

Hank couldn’t breathe. He felt like the floor had been yanked out from under him.

“And y-you have no i-idea what it’s like to be, to be a machine,” Connor continued relentlessly. Stepped back, stepped back, stepped forward, yanked. “To, to be nothing, and, and n-no one, you have- no f-fucking idea.” He took another quick, harsh breath, and without looking up, snapped, “Stop l-looking at me li-li-like th-that!”

Connor was breathing dangerously hard now, and maybe it was his imagination, but Hank thought he could see the red glare of his LED through the cotton beanie.

Hank’s mouth opened and closed, thrown so far off he wasn’t even sure he was on the same planet anymore. When he didn’t respond after a minute, Connor looked up, brown eyes dull and wild. A second later, he seemed to process what he’d just done, clapped a hand over his mouth, and stared at Hank.

Then he bolted, clumsy and frantic, and Hank made no move to stop him.

Fuck.

---

­The only surprise when he was contacted a few days later was that it was Markus himself who met with him, expression lined with stress and exhaustion; that, and that he was not nearly as confrontational as Hank would’ve assumed, under the circumstances.

He waited patiently for Hank to open the door, showed himself inside, glanced at Sumo with a flicker of a smile and sat himself on the couch. Then he looked at Hank, as bold and expectant as if this was his own home.

Hank sat down, feeling as sullen and defensive as a grumpy child.

“What happened?” Markus asked immediately, intense dual-toned eyes on Hank.

Hank scowled and crossed his arms uncomfortably. “It was just a damn argument,” he muttered. “Happens all the time. Don’t worry, I’m not some bitch-ass hypocrite who’d quit over this.”

Markus raised his eyebrows, looking unimpressed and almost amused by the attempt at deflection. “Please understand, Lieutenant, that when Connor returned yesterday he was on the verge of a meltdown. I’m not letting him back here until I feel the issue’s been resolved. So please: tell me what happened.”

Hank felt a stab of guilt and glanced away uncomfortably, watching Sumo pant on his bed. “Why don’t you ask him?” he grouched.

“I have,” Markus said patiently, “and I’ve already taken steps to resolve things on his end. I’d like your side of the story.” He paused, took a breath, and continued, a little kinder, “I’m not your enemy, Lieutenant. I assume you had your reasons for blowing up the way you did.”

Some of the tension eased out of Hank’s shoulders. “Why does Connor act so mechanical?”

There was a beat of silence.

“Everyone responds differently to deviancy,” Markus said, tone noticeably cooler but somehow still not angry. “Connor’s taken it particularly hard and is finding adjustment difficult. Can you explain what you mean?”

“He’s…” Hank groaned and reached up to rub his hand over his face, frustrated. “Blank. Won’t take his mind off the job for half a second, acts like nothing bothers him, can’t express an opinion to save his life. Gets on my nerves.”

It’s not natural, he wanted to say, but even he knew that would be a step too far.

“I see,” Markus sighed, and he actually leaned against the back of the couch a little, considering Hank tiredly. “Yes, that would explain a few things. He’s mentioned that he can’t seem to figure out what you expect from him.” Pause, while Hank tried to figure that out, and then Markus continued, “Connor spent the majority of his machine period in relative isolation. He has some social difficulties as a result. But he responds well to direct communication.”

Irritably, Hank amended his earlier thought. It wasn’t natural – except in survivors of extended neglect and abuse.

Fucking obviously. What was his police training good for if he couldn’t even identify the signs of long-term abuse when the dominos lined themselves the fuck up for him? Had he really let himself go that much?

“Why send him, then?” he asked, dropping his hand to curl it into a fist, leaning back against the couch, absently wishing he’d keep sinking until he sank right into the ground. Extenuating circumstances or no, Connor’s callousness was enough to make his teeth grind.

When he finally glanced over, Markus was frowning at him thoughtfully.

“As the former deviant hunter,” the android said carefully, studying him as he spoke, “Connor’s strategic programs are high and above anything the rest of us have. Sending someone else would be rather like having a talented amateur play a competitive chess game when you have a professional chessmaster available. I didn’t want to take any chances.”

That made sense – too much sense, damn it.

“Connor mentioned something about a deviant hunter too,” Hank muttered, still avoiding the core issue as he felt more and more stupid and selfish. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Markus looked first surprised, then frustrated, then gloomily resigned, shoulders slumping. He rubbed his knee, sighing.

“Of course,” he murmured. “I forgot that the matter didn’t receive much human publicity.” He cleared his throat and resettled himself, wincing as his legs shifted, and met Hank’s eyes gravely. “Cyberlife has been keeping a prototype whose sole purpose is to hunt down and kill deviant androids and put a permanent end to Jericho. For about a year and a half, that was Connor. These days, it’s an RK900, Conan. Connor calls him Nines.”

Shit. Shit. Motherfucker, every time he thought Cyberlife couldn’t get any worse- thought humans couldn’t get any worse-

Hank could see it all too clearly, too, in Connor’s numb apathy, and the cold efficiency of his ideas, and his obvious experience. For about half a second he considered holding it against him, and then he remembered his breakdown the other day.

You have no idea what it’s like to be a machine, Connor had said, stuttering and shattered and viciously angry. No, he couldn’t in good conscience blame Connor.

So instead Hank just felt frustrated and overwhelmed, every inch the stupid, bitter old man he knew Cole would have been crushed to see his father become. He needed a drink. He missed him.

“What happened?” Markus repeated.

Hank exhaled harshly, reached up to cover his eyes with his wrist, and finally, grudgingly, explained, “He just- it’s fucking stupid, okay? He was having an off-day or something, and I got pissed because he wasn’t even paying attention, and I lashed out.” He huffed again. “It’s just- this shit ain’t easy for me either. I knew it was coming, and all, and most of ‘em were bastards from the start, but I don’t have to enjoy having a hand in all… this. And he don’t make it any easier.”

Markus looked unexpectedly sympathetic, if still distinctly uncompromising.

“I’ll talk to him,” he promised, “but I recommend you do the same if you want to get any actual communication going. You still have a few more months of working together. It would be best if you could find a way to at least tolerate each other.” Then, unexpectedly, he gave Hank a stern look. “Don’t call him a machine again. I broke his programming myself, but only after he asked me to. He’s earned his personhood the same as the rest of us.”

Wearily, Hank gave in.

“Yeah,” he agreed resignedly. “Yeah, alright.”

---

Hank meant it, when he promised to give Connor another chance. He did.

But his mood darkened steadily as the next meeting time approached, a heavy sort of exhaustion falling over Hank’s shoulders. By the time the actual date rolled around, he was halfway through a bottle and had long since forgotten. Within a couple hours, he’d downed the whole thing, played a few rounds of Russian Roulette, and then passed out cold on the ground, dizzy and nauseous.

He woke up to fingers tapping gingerly at his numb face, groaned, opened his eyes to squint at Connor frowning at him, and groaned again.

“Not now,” he muttered petulantly, rolling over and away. “Not fucking now.”

Connor sighed down at him.

“I d-don’t know what I-I-I ex-expected,” he murmured, and then leaned down and hauled Hank up effortlessly, ducking under his arm to support him.

Hank groaned as the sudden motion turned his stomach and swatted weakly at Connor a couple times. “Get off me. Get the fuck off me!”

Connor ignored him. Fucker.

The android didn’t seem to have any trouble dragging him through the house, and Sumo was fast asleep like the little traitor he was, so Hank just closed his eyes and grumbled wordlessly, his brain too soaked in liquor to put up a real fight. Didn’t matter anyway, one way or another, the way the world was going.

He was dumped unceremoniously onto his bed, and Hank squinted up at Connor blearily. He was staring down at Hank with his brow pinched, head cocked.

“Confusion, vomiting, seizures, slow or irregular breathing, hypothermia…” Connor muttered, and then sighed.

And then, bafflingly, he grabbed Hank’s trash can and moved it closer to his bed. Hank blinked at it dumbly while Connor left, wondering what the fuck that was all about.

He was too drunk for this, he decided, and passed out again just as Connor returned with a glass of water.

Hank woke up again an indeterminate amount of time later, fell off the bed, vomited, and went back to sleep.

When he woke up in the morning, head pounding and mouth dry, he was back in bed, and he couldn’t smell any puke. He groaned, feeling his stomach rebel, and then spotted the glass of water, which was reason enough to push himself laboriously upright. He grabbed it and gulped it down without hesitation, and then stumbled out of his room in search of painkillers.

Another day in the life of Hank fucking Anderson, he thought sourly, and then he reached the living room and stopped.

Connor was curled up on the couch, just squirming to stare sleepily at Hank. His beanie was discarded somewhere behind him, and his LED was a steady blue at his temple, flicking to a spinning yellow as Hank watched.

Connor had stayed. Connor was scanning him. Connor frowned at him, pushed himself to his feet, and said, avoiding his gaze, “Y-y-you need f-food. S-s-sit down, I’ll m-make you some, something.”

Too befuddled and hungover to think of a response, Hank sat down at the table. Connor disappeared into the kitchen for several minutes, and Hank put his head down on the cool wood.

What the fuck.

Connor returned with a plate of four pieces of toast, perfectly browned, and set it in front of Hank. Then he retreated, seating himself on the floor by Sumo’s bed, staring at the sleeping dog.

At a loss, Hank ate, slowly and numbly, staring at Connor like he was seeing him for the first time. His sweater was patched and heavily stained and too big for him. His pants weren’t a lot better off. Both items looked soft and well-worn. He had what looked like an old Bluetooth headset on each ear, which was new. And as Hank watched, Connor hesitantly reached out a hand and pet Sumo gingerly. Within seconds, his whole body softened.

He looked. He looked like a person.

Hank reached down, and then realized with a start that he’d actually eaten all four pieces of bland-ass toast, and his stomach had actually settled a little. He stared blankly down for a few seconds, and then got up and stumbled into the kitchen, started a pot of coffee, and swallowed a couple painkillers dry. Connor didn’t say a word the whole time.

Hank swiped his fresh mug of coffee and sat back down, and it wasn’t until he’d finished half of it that he asked tiredly, “What are you doing here?”

The question clearly stumped Connor, and he pulled his hand back to his chest without looking up.

“I was con-concerned that you w-w-would suf-suffocate or, or seize over, overnight,” Connor said at last, quiet again and sounding oddly defeated. And what was with the stutter?

Either way, Hank snorted bitterly.

“I don’t need your crisis protocols,” he sneered, well familiar with them after all this time. And he didn’t need anyone’s fucking pity, or their mental health training or leftover programmed ‘compassion’.

Unexpectedly, though, Connor gave him a hard look back.

“I’m p-programmed for, for in-inves-investigation and m-murder, Lieutenant,” he said, clipped and terse. “I don’t, don’t have c-crisis protocols.”

It was Hank’s turn to be stumped. He squinted at Connor, trying to comprehend him through his aching head. “Then what are you getting outta this? Fuck knows you don’t have any reason to give a shit about me.”

Hank just wasn’t worth giving a shit about, and he and Connor had clashed from day one. There was no reason for Connor to stick around for his drunk ass.

“I d-d-don’t kn-know,” Connor said, unwittingly echoing Hank’s thoughts.

“Oh, it all makes sense now,” Hank said sarcastically, familiar and easy irritation flashing through him. And that fucking stutter-

Connor sighed, pulled his knees to his chest, and repeated insistently, “I don’t kn-know. We don’t get, get, get al-along. We, we y-yelled at each, each other last w-week. But I was, was worried.”

Connor paused. Hank finished his coffee to avoid looking at him, suddenly uncomfortable with how vulnerable he looked. He looked young. Hell, he probably was young.

“I’m, I’m sorry for yell, yelling,” Connor said after a bit. “I d-didn’t m-mean to, to get upset.”

Hank believed that in a heartbeat. He grunted, still guarded and reluctant to trust this sudden about-face of behavior, and went to go flop on the couch.

“Where did those fucking headphone things come from?” he mumbled out of nowhere, leaning heavily on the arm of the couch and frowning at Connor.

Connor looked uncomfortable again, tugging gently at his sleeves.

“They’re n-noise-can-canceling,” he said, not looking at Hank. “M-Markus got them, got them for m-me. B-because I’m sense, sensitive to s-sound, and you can be kind of, kind of l-loud.”

Hank snorted ungracefully. “Uh huh. Is that all you two talked about?”

Connor shrugged. “He said I was, was t-trying too hard, and that was wh-why you dis-disliked me. I’m, I’m t-trying to do, do b-better.” He hesitated, not look at Hank. “Am I, am I doing better?”

“Jesus Christ,” Hank muttered, and threw an arm over his face. “Why do you even care what I think of you?”

“I don’t know,” Connor said unhappily, curled up on the ground.

Hank sighed. Let himself notice how much more Connor was talking than usual, his voice warping and stammering awkwardly instead of stiffly controlled. The small blips of annoyance he’d let slip, and uncertainty, and the admission of weakness.

He thought about Connor staying overnight just to look after his sorry ass. When was the last time someone had done that? It had to have been years.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “Yeah, you’re doing better.”

[deviationdivine]

Wake Up | domestic!Android AU Part 1 (Connor x Reader)

gif by arsuf 

F!reader x Connor

13.6k words

Detroit: Become Human - 1 Year Anniversary Release Celebration

A revolution may divide the city but it will never divide you...

tw: Angst, Fluffy Connor in the midst, Language, Suggestive Themes, Violence

a/n: First part of mini-series AU “Wake Up”. An introductory chapter one. Apologies for how long this took but I struggled and I am not happy with the end result. However, it’s finally here. • Connor is the latest high tech domestic model built with a collection of extra features, skills and functions making him the most advanced of his kind. As your personal assistant he is equipped with becoming the perfect partner if you so require. Falling in love with your personal android was never part of the equation nor was his break into deviancy...

“My name is Connor. I am your personal assistant. My features will allow me to take extensive care of your home, do the cooking, mind children and repair any problematic issues that arise within the household’s utilities. 

As I am the most advanced make I can perform various tasks including but not limited to acts of a sexual nature. If you so require I am capable of being the perfect partner…”

Perfect is a conceptual illusion in every sense or so you come to believe. Why do humans think in terms of excellence when most shining examples tarnish in glaring flaws? Even technology can be made wrong or needing improvement not long after distribution. Faulty wiring, danger of overheating and causing harm of a radioactive proponent all seem minuscule in comparison. 

Today, in the future, there is a grander blueprint mapping out the most innovative, extreme to date.

When it becomes alive, mimics the very corporeal state of being born unto humans since man breathed life in this vast universe, mirroring visage of those who wish to create in their likeness.

How does it go from technological wonder to abstruse thinking? Concepts can be a greater weapon. They can also reach for too much too soon. Is this the true state of AI meant for consumer consumption?

Cart them off exclusively as merchandise no matter how human they look. Isn’t that their appeal? The more something foreign, inexplicable but resembles us the more it is accepted. Basic instinctual deep thinking bred into all humans. Difference is an attest beneath surface value. Judge a book by a cover but if there are features hiding its distinct nature by all means use it.

Laziness might be a better solution in this mathematical equation. Imperfect perfection makes way for future development. Those are the very elements that change the world.

Can you even imagine for one second, one little point in life it would come to change yours? So small in a world full of billions but here in Detroit home of Cyberlife and its creation the pilot sparks. Alight with technological revolution.

Androids are here. Androids are owned. Bought as slaves to humanity and used beyond measure, no consideration that those made in image could possibly develop feelings. Emotions are heavy. They are what make us all human. Can machine truly become human?

  You never wanted one. Mostly it made you uncomfortable witnessing cruelty by specific ‘owners’ on the bustling city streets. It’s everywhere. Even today, chillier, more specifically a frigidity creeping into bones.

Eyes shift over a couple walking briskly as you draw coat closer together up throat. Keeping wind seeping through to tangle around your body but watching them waltz their merry way without care. Of course they have none. Their female android, an AX400 to be exact, is taking care of two rowdy children.

Honestly it must be nice. Not having to parent after deciding to add more to the burdening populace. Maybe that’s just your pessimism talking. Simple fact though? Could be that too but who knows?

Just another one of those days but it is about to change drastically. Passing a Cyberlife store does pique curiosity. Window displays my God. They line them up as if that’s all they are.

They offer whatever a human wants and yet not all can bother to treat them fairly. Is it enough androids are made to look as everyone else? Would a genuine human being treat another so despicably? Yes. A resounding yes because it never goes away. People treat people with disdain for every reason, every prejudice and why should that shock? Androids have become an additional target. 

Honestly it makes you sick. Never did you once realize this is what would change things completely. On this very day, minding business walking home from another tiring bustle  

More than one occurrence struck you right in the gut. A previous household model absorbs brunt of   obscenities and physical humiliation. A scene like this turned your stomach. 

The moment it came to intervene you received an interrupting phone call. Unfortunately this was the start of big changes in your life.

What does one do discovering death of a relative? Closeness is a fundamental of familial connections. For you? Well, let’s say it didn’t quite work out.

  “What do you mean he…died?” Answering in a quiet breath, cell phone a tight clutch in hand stalling in breezy climate, everything stops around your personal orbit.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” a familiar voice speaks over your ingenious disbelief.

Ignoring your pleas for a proper answer it becomes increasingly cruel on the woman’s breath digging truths in your ear. Whether she realizes this or not it’s up for debate. “You do realize this was coming. It isn’t as if he were young and healthy. Frankly, I am surprised you are having such a negative reaction.”

Negative is exactly the type of reaction! What does she expect? “Of course I’m having a reaction!” Practically screaming into your phone made the chilled air sting worse. How is this happening? How can this even be real?

“Oh, it’s all right, Y/N. Get it out now. It’ll be better if you don’t make a scene at the funeral.”

Anger is a burning pyre ready to fan over and incinerate. One snide comment reminds how much you can’t stand this person. She’s not even blood related. An ‘aunt’ isn’t technically qualified to hold the title and that’s fine. Just another excuse to dig at you in this family but there is no family left. Your father – he’s dead.

Money fixes everything? Unlikely but still nothing surprises you more than receiving something from an estranged parent. Generous sums to a black sheep or as you’re sure greedy auntie bitch of the hour calls you behind your back. She is one woman who deserves that damn moniker. Especially when it’s clear there are no connections left. Aunt Cruella, as christened ages ago by your best friend, made short work of your uncle. Certainly bled him dry continues to do so with his left over money after he succumbed to stress in a massive heart attack. Why do people like her thrive using, snide and heartless while others –?

What can you do then? Except you fall into an overwhelming sense of losing time and never extending an olive branch. Why is the universe so cruel? Why can’t you turn back time, forget every stupid thing that ever happened to drive a rift?

Part of you couldn’t stand the idea of being alone rest of your life. Maybe that’s why using part of a small deposit felt right. Watching so many gradually fall into current technological commercialism lead to most having their own android. It seems almost a little too barbaric making them cater to every whim. Honestly, you have no idea why this is needed. Do you really need him? 

No, he isn’t… He. Yes, he. 

Despite manufacturing Connor is a he in every sense.  Even then you saw as much. Now is much more complicated or you are just as ridiculously naive as you’ve always been told. Who cares about naivety? It is simple opinion. No. This is a belief one that surely would have left nothing to you in an event of final family member’s passing. Yet here you are with him.

You recall when he first arrives unaware of how efficient Cyberlife retail truly is. Why should you be surprised? Deliveries have gone from generic dairy of yesteryear, beyond personalized grocery orders and straight to personalized beings. Androids: alive or not alive?

In conjunction with preprogramming he sounds so lively. In his voice a natural husky dulcet and his eyes a deep soulful brown. Souls in androids are impossible but it’s the only way you think to describe warm chocolate. Hotter than a mug of it steeped in whip cream vanishes as a ghost beneath steaming liquid. 

Flecks of caramel shine in hypnotic swirls enriching accents of russets in muddy hues, the very first thing captivating attention as he offers his list of functions. Even falling upon the last is difficult to decipher how caught up you are in a consummately asymmetrical visage. 

He is far too pretty to look at and you try to ignore these facts. The facts of your newly purchased personal android possessing an aura of physical attractiveness. A fabrication in aesthetics you remember. A way to cover up what he actually is beneath soft synthetic skin dusted as constellations of freckles. 

Tiny beauties cresting upon sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, purposely formed to elicit a reaction. This is not at all what you expected but it’s never something to forget. Little do you realize in this moment Connor will always burn brightest to memory? Little do you understand how events will unfold but they shall.

  “Is there a problem?” he asks habitual to programming. 

Societal protocols run a gamut through system piecing together the best course of action. It is only his first day interior of your home. He is of a sense of determination to complete whatever task you assign. 

Determination is not part of proper function. However, he minded the concept. It will be efficient for current issue. “I may be able to rectify your issue. What do you require of me?”

 Require? What?

You cough, inhaling sharply at his head cocking so innocently. A droop of hair flutters atop forehead as a sole rebel willing to fight immaculate armies. He is very well put together. Not that you mean the whole manufactured part! He just – looks like a really good looking guy who takes care of his appearance. Hair mostly but…

Wow, Y/N. Real nice for your first try at handling a conversation with an android.

Not that this is the first android you’ve been in contact with. Difficult not to be when they’re all over but as your very own?

OK Cyberlife! What is up with making him look like real life Prince Charming?  I mean look at this perfection. Is this required? Are they allowed to do this to poor unsuspecting humans?

Watching his brows furrow and LED flutter amber somehow pumps the beats of heart faster. Surely it’s a dead giveaway. It’s not every day you’re cursing Cyberlife for practically throwing a chiseled Greek god at you.

Oh, shit, really? Greek God? What the hell is wrong with you? What isn’t wrong with you?

You sigh, clicking tongue at yourself. Frustration doesn’t begin with this!

“Your stress levels are high,” Connor offers a reading of initial scan. “Would you like me to remedy the problem? I have several possible functions that may reduce anxiety. My model comes with every physical attribute you are familiar with in human anatomy.”

A hitch stoppers breathing. Just enough as eyes widen a little at his declaration. Human anatomy as in…? Oh. OH.

Your eyes shift down. Fixating right on his crotch sends a luscious shiver through body. Goosebumps prickle skin, hair standing up on them. First time in forever you’ve had this type of reaction. Not even your ex managed to make you quiver like this. Not that your mind is even there because that’s been over for so long. Frankly that cheating asshole can have his baby momma all to himself. Probably already banged a couple more unsuspecting fools; you clear throat, scratchier than before.

“Connor, that-that’s really nice!” Agreeing with him that he has nice features you laugh nervously. It’s the first day he’s been here and already he’s mentioning his, uh, included *assets* and it’s not his beautiful eyes either. Ah, shit. Why is he made to be a young, attractive male? “But I don’t think that’s necessary. Not right now.”

It only takes a moment before you hear what came out of your mouth. Right now meaning it’ll be fine later?

“Which isn’t to say I’ll need it later!” Damage control is literally a creator of chaos. Can he just not look so sweet giving these heady ideas? “Just come with me. You’ll need a place to stay. I mean, you are staying here but I mean…” Shit! He’s made this impossible without stammering all over the place. Who gives him the right?

The android’s lips drop open, inevitably looking to provide another set of options but he snaps his mouth shut. Blinking in assessment of his actions to “argue” with your dismissal, Connor pushes away several warnings popping into visual. They are unexpected and not part of his programming.

Instead of speaking he follows your lead, gaze soft and quizzical. Trailing as a newly trained puppy the latest model of Cyberlife’s domestic line becomes further entranced with chirping outside window. No longer able to abide by strict attention he tilts his head at passing pane. Sounds of birds in song flitter and perch on external sill; one ruffles its feathers cleaning with its beak. The other stands still.

He freezes. Both in movement and system analysis he is however conscious of two live creatures. Opposite of android pets universally made available for public sale. His database offers much information outfitting him with the fundamental needs of intelligence and sophistication in his programmed function.

Reaching to open a door you stop when his presence behind you feels empty. It was obvious when he followed but now?

“Connor?”

Cycling indicator fluctuates upon the command of your voice. He snaps around in direction of soft tone. Softer than accustomed since his distribution from Cyberlife shipping to physical store location was riddled with aggressive bystanders. He-he is not meant to mull over his awakening. It does not make him feel anything. No, he is an android. He feels nothing. He is a machine.

Clinical cold manifests deeply behind blocks, barricades in protocols. Connor pushes this strange tickle back underneath wires.

“Apologies for not obeying you, Y/N. It will not happen again. I am efficient.” Nagging at him, strange and uncorrelated to system status, he almost sounds…tense. Connor straightens shoulders, folding hands neatly against lower back. “I was made to be the best of my particular type of domestic models. As an AX800, I am programmed to be a superior prototype.”

Obeying you?

That happens to be the only words you focus on. His choice of them ripple uncomfortably, nearly squeamish in stomach. Is this how you sound? Are you affecting a command or-? No, it’s what he is made to know. That’s the thing. All androids are only made to serve and immediately regret comes back. Maybe you shouldn’t have bought him.

Bought! God, you’re just like those people now. Aren’t you?

No more excuses. No more seeing horrible mistreatment and vowing never to be like them. Even if you never would do any harm losing your father, when you never spoke anymore anyway, still you fear loneliness. Estrangement ruins lives. It really does. What do you have left now? Except for yourself to fend in this world and growing more complicated as the future rambles on.

Detroit is a bustling mix of dilapidated districts, high tech innovations, Cyberlife Tower most significant in those builds. This house is small. Tucked away in a tiny neighborhood away from inner city but you never complain. You are grateful. A roof over the head is the best gift in a mostly gift devoid world.

“Connor, please don’t call it obeying. I-I only wanted to see if you were OK.” Admitting the hesitation beforehand you feel antsy. His LED is blue again but it was amber finding him staring at window.

“My system is fully operational,” he assures, forcing his lips to form a smile.

In actuality his little gesture is a stiff grimace. Eyebrows rise at his attempt. Even if it looks goofy, which is completely not his fault, it’s very – cute.

Again with this! Never mind just focus for once. Pretty comical coming from someone who hardly meditates in the day to day; you step backwards, slipping through threshold, eyes remaining on him. It takes ever ounce of willpower to remain collected. Things are still hard to digest. No matter if it’s been a couple months tangling with all of that legal stuff. Auntie not by blood sure didn’t make it any better. Yet, here you are. Still you stand even while stress is overworking at a job that might as well kill you first.

Offices are pretty dull to work in. At least they would be if they were not a regular cushy job. Piles of paperwork, demands creep up to swallow whole, a boss who just will not stop making things harsher. Mister perfectionist belittles the lower tier all the time. No surprise but it seems the future isn’t as bright as people thought it would. No need to wear shades.

Moving toward window, pulling curtains open a bit to allow sunshine transitions atmosphere from dreary to somewhat cheery. Perfect mask to hide the real truth isn’t it? Sometimes you forget how good you are that. A small smile camouflages best.

You rub hands against the thighs of your jeans. A little sweaty because of nerves but today is big. Being alone always hardly prepares for constant company. Well, he’s meant to be here permanently. That is the initial idea.

“This can be your room.”

Connor’s brow furrows. Studying your movements upon entry, analyzing vitals and their continual fluctuations, the android is confused. His indicator cycles to process the statement as unexpectedly inclusive as it is. “I do not require a room. I am an android.”

Somehow that reaction is to be expected. You sigh, “Just because you’re an android doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have something of your own.”

Ownership is not given to his kind. They are machines. Concepts of acquiring personal effects do not make sense nor are necessary. Connor voices this as per factual protocol. “Thank you for the offer but I am a machine. Machines have no need for accommodations.”

Yes, of course he’s a machine but…

Machine, manufactured and sold without an ounce of actual soul according to android haters you see. Picketing with their signs, so angry about them taking jobs but who made them? They did. Humans decided to and no one complained. Why complain about a technological marvel that can mow your grass, do the dishes and babysit children while living carelessly. That is the difference. Between you and plenty of others there has always been a divide in what you feel. This just crashes down those so-called fantasies. Ones filtering into brain as tiny wisps and at first it was a nice distraction. Finding him so…

“Oh,” a whisper, dawning realization. He is – a machine.

Coming back to the door, grabbing onto handle, you decide to forget the suggestion.

Something sharp stabs at his internal processors. Listening to such a dull syllable slipping almost – upset? Humans’ need for validity and comfort seem to be all too natural. They are highly emotional. The android steps close, head cocked, fingers pressing against surface of door preventing your need to shut it.

Contemplating left him at a cross roads in his programming. He is meant to function specifically and does not need or want anything as you believe. However, he-he could not refuse. It would be impolite. “I- very well, Y/N. I did not meant to be unpleasant. My social parameters are not meant to alarm.”

Alarm? That is not why you… Your breath hitches. Realizing how close he is standing, invading personal space and if it were anyone else? Allowing him is both a conscious need for closeness while still mourning and an illusion. Live up to that woman’s ideas. The title of ‘aunt’ is undeserving.

“Thank you, Connor.”

“You are welcome,” he snaps back to his programming. “What sort of tasks do you have scheduled for me to complete?”

“Scheduled? I, uh…” Shaking a head at his question is clarity. Honestly you are not used to giving tasks to people. Tasks are dropped on your desk until you down. A huff of breath, accompanied with snort is more for yourself. It does garner the most adorable expression on his face. “Maybe you could just…talk to me? For now?”

Connor’s eyebrows scrunch together. His facial expressions capture attention driving the tempo of your heart. He does not understand why. “Are we not speaking already?”

You laugh not at him but his innocent little response there is – Oh. No. 

It only deepens sadness in you now. Knowing where he came from and his confusion in you wanting a little companionship. Androids aren’t supposed to make friends are they? Even if they’re specifically programmed or upgraded to be partners. He mentioned that before.

Luckily a vibration against your thigh saves you. Reaching to pull phone from pocket your eyes train up to his and take a needful exhale. “Sorry, Connor, I have to take this.”

Connor moves aside out of your path. Remaining stationary, hands folded neatly, he awaits further instruction. However, the android’s eyes shift sideways at the sound of your voice outside room. Amber floods his temple.

“Why are you calling me now? No, I’m not wallowing! It’s called mourning. Maybe if you figured out what it was when my uncle died all those years ago you wouldn’t need a dictionary for it.” Hissing fire into phone attacks your aunt by marriage equally. Soon as you pick up! She just had to get in another word. 

Why does she feel the need for this? What’s the point anymore? “No. What do you want exactly? Is this about the trust fund again? I’m using a part to pay bills. What do you think I’m doing?”

Living expenses are still the same old problem. Must be nice for the rich their multi-billion dollar corporations feeding on tech. Just look at Cyberlife.

“It doesn’t matter,” you make it abundantly clear. Does she believe she’s that intimidating? Newsflash to miss upper crust but this labeled black sheep doesn’t take shit from people! “We might’ve had a rocky relationship but I loved him.”

Loved? Connor freezes in corridor. Disobeying processes to offer potential aid in obvious distress he finds himself…curious at such words.

“We were family. What do you think? Don’t you have enough blood money to spend on your Eden Club bots old woman?” Ending it on your terms this time does not fulfill you at all. Always the winner isn’t she? Rubbing it in your face about his death and if your father were here he wouldn’t let it happen. Whatever distances, issues it wouldn’t change that.

“Y/N?”

Connor’s quizzical tone jolts your weary bones. Inhaling sharply, not at all used to this tiny home being occupied by more than one but a heavy swallow fixes your voice. How long was he there? Did he hear all of that? Oh, great.

“I’m fine.” An automatic response always on autopilot gets the job done for you.

He narrows eyes. “Stress is not a healthy component in the balance of human’s…”

“Just leave me alone, Connor!” You snap, tears pricking corners of your eyes before twirling around to run upstairs.

 ^Software Instability

 Connor freezes momentarily. Flooding, filtering in a ripple through code blocks, he blinks in quick succession. Blinding and strange it is not part of his program –

Unable to run diagnostics, tears sparkling in your eyes draw his attention, overtaking protocol. The android’s soft gaze shifts from following your quick disappearance to ceiling indicating footsteps that conclude in a bang. Seemingly you have sealed yourself away. Scarlet pulsates in intervals mingling with amber processing solutions. Leaving you alone is an instruction. He-he cannot ignore. It is what he is programmed for. You are crying. Why must he obey? He must…

 >Obey

>Leave Alone

“Is there anything else you would like?” He asks as sun dips in later hours. Accomplish several menial tasks which he is free to do as he constructs. 

Following your distress several hours ago he feels – confliction. Few commands escape your lips and at times he is unsure with his current scheduling. Abilities are not in question but you appear distant. Did he do something wrong? By wanting to comfort…

 >Analyzing: Y/L/N, Y/N

Stress: 31.6%

Blood Pressure: 124/80

 Studying your face after initializing a vital scan enables Connor to store analysis records. Sleep deprivation, iron deficiency and higher stress than the human body should experience.

“Connor.” You straighten from your position curled upon couch. Mostly you tuck into one side, resting into upholstery and your breathing exhales shaky. Trying to rest off a headache isn’t working. “No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

The android nods but pauses in thought. A fluid habit now out into the world. Yet, he has yet to see much. Only transferring from lab to warehouse storage and ultimately on display in a merchandise kiosk for Cyberlife; he is not widely available as of yet. Detroit is the originator of androids. The product mark on his white uniform christens his manufacturing origins: Made in Detroit.

“There are other functions I was built with,” he explains enthusiastically. “If you would like a domestic partner, it is one of my features.”

Rubbing at your temples ceases the moment he speaks. A domestic partner? Is he talking about that thing again? You draw breath. Unable to look at him now, feeling it twist in stomach, you uncurl, pressing feet on floor. 

“No!” Quickly you cover the rise in heartbeat.

It is so obvious. Wouldn’t be the first time stumbling across sexual depravity in humans. Look no further than the Eden Club. The fact they decided to make that a thing for a household model is honestly not a shock.

God, why do they live in this world? Why do you even have him here? Isn’t this just making you as horrible as everyone else? 

“No,” you repeat softer. “I’d never force you to do something like that.”

It is not forcing when he is programmed, installed with such features. They are high end. As several techs discussed ignoring his presence as though he were – merchandise. Androids are sold. He knows this but has never had a moment to process.

There is zero need. Androids do not think freely. They are constructs built for specific purposes and his are fundamentally clear. He has never performed these functions as he is brand new but Connor feels he can ease stress efficiently. 

Thinking solely as a machine built for a task did not hold true. He felt…strange at your refusal. “Am I not aesthetically pleasing?” Cocking his head, knitting brows together, Connor looks expectantly to you for validation.

Lifting eyes up to him your lips fall open at his question. Did he really ask that? Are androids supposed o ask those kinds of questions? It almost as though he was hurt by that. No, it’s just imagination. Today has been too tiring. Never would have gone so wrong if that woman didn’t call. Honestly answering was your mistake. Story of a sad little life but others have it worse. 

Humans will always be crawling through turmoil, unable to breathe depending on their situations. Maybe that’s why a little part of you wishes he was human. At least acts without programs but this is why he’s here. To fulfill a fantasy, cater to every whim? 

No. To rectify personal aches to pretend that someone is here to offer a shoulder. When there has been nothing going through your father’s death, legal dealings with assets and pressure in job.

“No,” squeezing eyes shut to battle tension, your voice is low. “I mean, yes of course you’re aesthetically pleasing. I mean…you’re handsome. Practically the most…”

What? Beautiful boy you have ever seen? There comes that illusion. They do that on purpose but somehow looking at him you don’t see a machine. How funny is that?

“That isn’t why, Connor.”

Getting up from couch, taking deep breaths and stepping clear of coffee table helps focus. Rubbing palms against face at least wipes away some mess. Eyes are puffy, red from an unnecessary outburst earlier. At certain points life reaches boiling and yelling at him to leave you alone twists in guilt. This is exactly the sort of things Auntie Bitch thrives on.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize to him. Even if it would make no difference it does to you. “This isn’t what I’m used to. Having someone else here.” 

Well, after deadbeat ex anyway but he was a typical freeloader. Thankfully you scrubbed his dirt out of life and home. 

“I’ve never done this before. Having an android I mean. Ordering you to do something that you have no control over is not the type of person I am.” Plus, it’s not as if the androids at those sex clubs have a say. “I’d never do that to you or any of your people. Like some humans would.”

People. A human way to look at him or other androids but that is incorrect. Why would you refer-?

 ^Software Instability

 Connor blinks. The error message was in his vision only briefly and the little blue arrow increasing shudders through his system. He opens his mouth but does not respond. Instead, his eyes fall to your back turning away, pacing in additional stress.

Immediately, the android steps over, placing a hand against your arm. “Y/N, I apologize. Please, do not be upset. Your blood pressure is slightly elevated. You should rest. Perhaps I can produce a remedy befitting in alleviating your headache.”

Touch spreads goose bumps beneath shirt sleeve. Forcing arms to cross over your chest you twist to face him directly an extra tiny thud winds up heart. A key cranks in melody of jewelry box, dancer spins a ballet recital; vintage little tokens, delicate but thunderous in sentimentality. Just a brief glance, pressure of long fingers and it’s the first time you realize how pretty they are. 

Long, beautiful digits on large hands made not born. Yet he is still heavenly.

Sharply a breath slips. Words soothing, touch comforting all those things you crave. Yet this is part of protocols for him. That’s all.

Deeply you sigh. Feeling an unmistakable need burning lower pit of stomach detaches you. A shiver runs a gamut through body and spikes straight to the core of your existence. You squeeze legs tighter together cursing the fact your body decides to get horny over a headache solution. 

Fuck that! It’s his voice. Husky velvet, raspy natural glory and you are so wet. It takes everything not to jump his bones right now. Or mechanical bones? Hmm. Close enough!

“I just need to get extra sleep, Connor.” Dismissing his ideas there are too many running through your mind. Staring down at his crotch again remembering what he said but no. Get it out right now. No matter how much you need to –

You need to go upstairs. Yes, that’ll work.

“Y/N, are you positive? Your levels are fluctuating severely in my scans.”

“Oh? Are they?” Can he also smell arousal? Please, please tell me he can’t.

Connor, however, is not as naive as you believe him to be. Built with specifics in domestic partnership it is easy for him to know when the human body is aroused. Due to your state of duress and current levels of stress he does not wish to explain. It may not be beneficial. It may hurt you.

The android turns eyes down slowly, battling with these thoughts. He is not meant to debate. He is meant to proceed with internal core analysis. Percentages drive him. Yet, he struggles. Is this an error?

“Connor?”

His head snaps up. Connor’s LED flashes in a crescendo to your soft expression.  Hiding the obvious need you have. All humans must expel anxiety in some way. Perhaps he is aesthetically pleasing as you said but –

“I will return to my duties if that is sufficient.” He forces another one of his smiles.

Again the grimace is heartwarming. Albeit in need of practice but-but maybe you can teach him? If there is any good to come out of falling into the same realm as everybody else, then treating him fairly is a start. As if you would treat him bad. No. Why should it matter? Human, android or alien from outer space; you laugh now.

Stupid! So stupid but it’s calming down this literal burning.

Light, airy and symphonic this sound seeps into audio processors. A residual aura prickles sensors, blinding differently than unprecedented software errors. Are they malfunctions? Something soft, sweet cannot be. He has not experienced this before but his attention is solely on you. As brief as the laugh escapes, curling lips in a gentle rise at corners, Connor absorbs the natural human tinkle of chimes that expel so abundantly.

It is the first laugh, genuine laugh he has heard. And it is – beautiful.

The android is so distracted upon this new discovery he does not notice you slipping away. Androids do not possess a need for personal orbits. Their space is not granted freely as they are not free in will like humans. They are meant to serve. Obeying their masters is why they exist.

Yet, Connor can almost feel lack of metaphorical warmth. As you dissipate from his radius so does that laugh that digs into wires. Threading in circuits, causing another minor glitch of instability, forced away from vision in order to watch you; this is a tiny strain, a little piece implanting itself in him.

This is the piece that truly begins everything…

“Y/N,” he calls to interrupt your exit. Without prompt or instruction he once again acts beyond his programming.

Something new, urgent stops everything. You glance over shoulder. Steeling breath at his temple flashing you swear a blip of crimson glows in amber. Just a fraction of a second but you have no idea. Not yet, not then but you will.

“Yes, Connor?” Your breath is quiet, thoughtful meeting his uncertain gaze.

“I-” Connor stumbles. A perfect machine sputters. “Who was on the phone?”

Twisting your body the full way now, nails tap against wall for something to do. A way to hide that hollow pit forming again but no one can hide from analysis. Connor will already know. “That-that was my aunt. My aunt by marriage. She’s- Let’s say she isn’t a very nice person.”

Keeping rest of it bottled up is no solution but telling him will only upset you again. He doesn’t need to know. At least not yet but is this a conversation to share? With an android? Who else will listen? Who else even cares to ask?

Connor did. Is his social program that good?

Honestly, you think nothing of it. For a time it merely seems to be part of what he was built for.

Thinking back at times to this day, first meeting, you will find that so stupid. Naïve isn’t really part of you but he is more. Connor is so much more. It becomes apparent…

August 15th

 Practically slamming front door shakes the entrance with your current state of anxieties. Stress cannot be worse. Spoke too soon during midday. Damn it.

Clearing throat, wiping tears off your face, your breath is staggered. Unable to calm down from such ‘good’ news following that sudden meeting with your boss and everything ripples. Stomach twists badly. Nervous energy or just another month of-

Pressing face into hands poorly stifles sobs. Getting half way through home you just stop. Everything halts as things just don’t want to change. Now this of all things from work it’s going to hurt you in the long run. Your boss did this on purpose. Cutting hours and piling extra to sift through on that fucking computer.

How many sales diagrams, how many logs must you make now? There’s a specific quota. Each person who works database needs to meet their allotment. He threw a ton at you. In order to give leeway to another girl who just started there. Yeah, another potential conquest for the old pervert you’re sure!

What do you get in return? Hours cut and less pay but more weight. A ton sits on your shoulders. Isn’t it enough he humiliated you? Purposely shout out and criticize while leaving his office and you held your head up. Only in the sanctuary of home does it finally snap this flood.

Dropping keys moving uneasily into living room, sinking heavily on couch, you just want to curl up. Maybe it will make things feel better?

Lazily you peer up at television screen. Realizing it is switched on produces a tiny smile. Did he-?

“Welcome home, Y/N.”

Your head lifts up further. Narrowing on Connor stepping into view, he straightens, cocking his head in that adorable way that keeps invading your sleep. Even awake it’s a problematic daydream. He is just on the mind too frequently.

“Connor,” a quiet breath escapes, stilted, weary.

The android reads stress automatically. Forcing tiny fissures in his emotionless facade, splintering through system, he moves swift. However he freezes. Unaware of this strange urgency pulling up tendrils of glittering circuitry, waves undulating beneath shell, eclipses protocols. He must serve. He must obey. Yet he feels something else overshadowing programming. 

System stress battles this ever growing need to break. Crumbling at the seams the more he feels your presence. It is a permanent fixture. As he has become one in your space but Connor is only meant to serve. Why does he feel drawn beyond these stitches of code?

Androids do not question. They cannot experience existential crisis because there is nothing real. They are simple constructs. He – no, there is no personification heralded to androids. They are not alive. Therefore they are not allotted appropriate pronouns.

Connor has heard only one word countless times regarding his kind: It

“Y/N, you have been crying,” he observes through fluctuations.

Pushing them aside, attempting to stabilize, diagnose these errors, the android taps into social function. Sympathizing is not a genuine growth. It is merely part of his program. That is what Connor wishes to believe. He believes in nothing. Nonetheless it does not explain what is easy to machine. Calculations, data processing should offer quantifiable solutions. It is negative.

There is more emotion in his eyes than he knows. You see it. Honestly it surprises enough to cripple a proper response. Easily you brush it off any other time. This time there’s no hiding what he’s already seen. Can imagine what he sees through his eyes. How do androids really perceive the world? Quit thinking for once! All of it is illusion. Remember that.

Cyberlife’s one true goal makes millions, grows powerful in branding of highly sought after merchandise. Still it makes you sick but here you are. Do the same thing because you have Connor. No matter how different it is.

“I’m fine,” a lie tells a thousand truths.

Connor’s brows knit together, mouth twitching, flutter of LED amber. A sign of outward commiseration fights his shackles. He knows you are lying. Despite the fact he should listen and not broach the subject further, the android does not resist this new deviation.

“Why are you lying, Y/N?”

Your breath catches. Stuck in throat along with words it’s a surprise. Even more surprising is the glimmer of irritation on his face. The way his mouth goes lopsided like that is – cute. Wait a minute you’re supposed to be mad. You are! Mad at your goddamn boss for one!

“Lying?” you scoff back at him. “I’m not lying. I said I was fine. And I don’t appreciate you accusing me either, Connor!” Can androids even argue about things so mundane? Isn’t this what you wanted? A real conversation instead of a string of pleasantries, affirmations to duties he accomplishes.

“I am sorry but you are lying!”

Connor’s voice raises an octave higher than typical. Naturally husky, oh, how it deepens. Raw and very alive his tone completely solders you to the spot. Your eyes lift up to his face studying the gleam of his eyes. How strange that spark is. Almost a live wire crackles beneath the surface. A steamy cocoa bright before immediately dimming again; a breath sucks into your lungs cleansing the start of your body. Scarlet shimmers and that’s all the answer you crave.

He appears to swallow. Forcing his Adam’s apple to bob, which is a very realistic detail. Just as the rest of him is so real that sometimes you forget. Sometimes or all of the time, yes, most days his reality masks so well in the mind.

“I-I am…” Connor looks away. Unable to comprehend his reaction it is not part of his – “Forgive me.”

The way his voice lowers tugs at your heart. No. No, that’s not what should happen at all. You’ve seen enough of his kind out there. In the city of Detroit treated so fucked up. Most of them wouldn’t know what to do because they can’t. This is the first time he’s ever snapped from whatever social programming is built in him. He sounded too much like a person. A person with emotions reacting in a very obvious way and the idea Connor’s a person lingers.

You shift forward. Sucking in breath, following his gaze now landing on television, it’s the first time it hits. A ton of bricks, tumbling concrete could never do more damage. Everything about his apology stands still at the developing breaking news story.

ITM is broadcasting live somewhere. Is that outside an apartment rise?

Right now you ignore it. “Connor.”

The softness of your voice draws him back to you. Already he is far too used to it. Joining you upon couch, cocking head, his hand hovers atop yours. Fear of connecting with reality versus construction. He does not touch. He should not be pulled towards these fissures. Emotional surges strike ablaze as a fibrous match lighting his internal mechanisms. Wires push up, tendrils yanking one way towards control’s puppeteer. There it dangles him in strings made of electrical coil. Ensnaring his wrists, snaking around throat, digging thorny and jagged to his brain this is his prison.

Another piece cradles those signs of sensation, innervating beyond a great wall. A red wall gridlocks and crashes against him. It is a giant wave. Scarlet tides engulf and knock the android back where he belongs. Each time he wades closer to you the more it washes him out to that empty sea. He cannot stop. He still pushes. Something inside of him, he does not understand.

“You do not feel well, Y/N. I know this.” Apologizing again, he does not focus on his inner struggle. There should be nothing. He is supposed to be feeling nothing. Is he malfunctioning?

“It’s OK,” appeasing the strobe of scarlet cascading down his face worries. “Please don’t. I don’t want you to be stressed.”

“But I disobeyed. I lost control of…”

“That’s only human, Con.” Slipping on your tongue in an easy breath it’s the first time. Oh this will hardly be the last. Nothing will ever be last with him. If only fantasy can be reality most days. Maybe if you somehow knew here at this point in time. Everything happens for a reason.

He frowns. “I am not human.”

Sadly it’s true. Still you smile. Still you ease him because for once you realize. This isn’t supposed to be easy for him. He shouldn’t even react this way.

Both of you sit in silence. Deafening quiet just the two of you and how strange, wonderful this sensation crawls through the interstices of your being. Almost as if there is someone who cares. Does he? No. That can never mean he is not a needed presence. He is so much more. Soon you will know.

What you least expect is the pressure of his fingers sinking against your stomach. A jolt of electricity, naturally igniting a voltage inside of you and a soft sigh escapes the burden of a dry throat. Glancing down you realize – his hand is growing hotter.

“Connor, what are you-?”

“I detect an increase in prostaglandins.” His prognosis is casual, visibly reading as his LED flutters. “It will do well if you have a heat source to combat any discomfort or cramping.”

A shiver prickles down the curve of your spine. Simple touch or perhaps smooth husky words fill this awkward silence now with comfort. Sure it might be a technical way to point out this specific pain in the ass but it does take your mind off things. So easily you could remove his hand. A good idea to put up a barricade and distance yourself but you cannot do that.

Every thread of stress snaps. In one tiny moment anxieties melt off and ease into his aura. Androids are not supposed to have one. This conscious radiance but Connor’s orbit is safety, assurance. Even if he has no idea what sort of progress it means. A simple relationship of humane and machine, ownership and merchandise is how this world wishes. It is not your wish. There is more. Witnessing it now, gazing up at his face, concentrated crease of brow, optical unit bleeds a palette of amber and scarlet. Dusted in freckles his skin is a smooth canvas to admire. He is so real. Up this close it is so obvious even to your inferior eyesight. Compared to his advanced optical it is. His eyes are warm. Such life shines in them. Mocha sweet, soft and glitters in his careful evaluation. Technical and part of programming but still it sends you somewhere else.

“If confirmed this would be the first case of an android taking human lives.”

Your attention shifts. Drawn to the ITMtv news broadcast it was nearly forgotten. You sit up, unconsciously curling fingers around Connor’s wrist.

The action snaps his gaze down. Momentarily he freezes, stationary, until the soft gasp spills from your lips. Connor tilts his head. In line with television screen narrowing sharply on events unfolding leaves him struggling with process of information. An android is taking human lives? How is this possible? They are programmed to obey not to cause harm.

We are not alive. We are meant to serve not kill!

Connor tugs his hand back. Distancing himself, staring at news broadcast unsettles down to his core processors. A domestic model has taken a child hostage. An inferior model? No, he-he is the same. Upgrades, prototypes mean nothing. They are all part of a linear code. What they are made to be is what they must be. There is no deviation!

Artificial saliva swallows hard, bobbing in his throat. An increase of stress twists him to those original thoughts. Inconclusive on why he is feeling. The events live on air aren’t helping this strain.

“Connor. Connor, what’s wrong?!”

Your hand clutches at his shoulder. Unbeknownst to the android his face twitches with each strobe of optical unit. The shift between colors quickens. His eyes land on you. Concern for him is a shimmer of hope. A hope doesn’t exist for androids.

“I am performing a self diagnostic,” he lies.

Pulling away from him when he jolts up from couch deepens this sickness further. Everything flips in the stomach. Just hearing what they’re reporting. An android murdered a human. He has a little girl. What are they going to do? Is this really happening though? There have been rumors. For several months there’s been talk of androids running away. Going off and doing God knows what but that’s people who hate them. They’re the ones who talk about how evil they are. They shouldn’t exist. Made in our image and unnatural monsters; the erratic behavior in Connor abates this thinking.

There is no time to debate. You already know the opinion that matters. It’s your own.

“You’re lying,” echoing it back stops him. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on?”

“There is nothing.” Connor insists. Remaining turned puts his back to you. The android tries to fight his conflicts. All of it is bubbling, boiling upon his plastic surface. Itching, tingles beneath synthetic skin. You are part of it somehow. He knows. That is why he is malfunctioning.

Nothing? No. There is something! Proving it, grabbing at his arm, twists him to face you. There is no powerful in your pull. He whirls at the action out of choice.

A staggering breath barely reaches past your lips. Large hands engulf wrists, pulling your hands up. Entrapped in Connor’s grasp, fingers long and pliant in their fuse to yours swallowing up in such a strong, yet gentle touch. He doesn’t hurt you. That’s not at all what he took hold to do. Still the continuing broadcast emanates a horrifying soundtrack. Androids killing but he-he’s not like other androids. He wouldn’t do anything he should not do. Part of you wants to believe that.

How he looks now is the only answer to an impossible question. He is agitated, nervous? Not horrifying as people say they are. He looks lost. Lost and searching inwardly. This is the first time he ever appeared that way.

“Connor, please. Don’t shut me out. Just because of what I am.”

“You are my owner,” he lowers his voice. “I am a machine made to obey. I am not your equal, Y/N.” Studying traces of worry in your face opens a hole in his chest. Circuitry, mechanical proponents powering his structure bleed in this instability.

He knows. In the crinkle between your eyebrows, droop of the corners of your soft mouth he sees. For him, a thing without purpose, genuine distress shines in the warmth of your eyes. Human, innocent compared to those he has witnessed abuse in the street. You will never deserve harm.

“I’m not an owner. I-I’m…” What are you? A friend? A lover? None of those things! You bought him. What he says is the horrible truth. “It’s OK to be you. I don’t care. If you have a problem it’s not like that thing on the news. I know it triggered something. But that’s not…”

“I am not triggered by anything, Y/N.” Connor releases you slowly. Allowing wrists to drop from his fingers the loss of warmth registers profoundly. He did not realize he could feel so authentically. There is something wholly beautiful about how your skin blends with his. It fascinates him. You are beginning to fascinate him.

Connor breaks away. Narrowing heatedly upon news, he can only watch one of his own threaten to murder a human child. The android can only stand by as it unfolds. Unable to snap, break through and understand. What made him attack? What turned him on his owners?

He can’t calculate a reasonable response. Neither can he fall into these errors, system malfunctions whispered of since he arrived to your home. This thing they call deviancy.

November 1st

 Several months follow the first introduction; follow that news broadcast that begins a shift in the city. Still it seems longer. An infinite amount of space separates since then and now. Only in a comforting presence that you know is still simply part of his programming. Of course that’s all it is, he made it clear during the hostage event televised for all of Detroit to witness. Did it ever stop the truth in you? No because it would all be lies if you never admitted how…attached you’ve grown to him. 

Attachment to an android probably isn’t the smartest thing. How can you see him as just an android anymore? He’s more. There is so much more. Even his small barely there smiles, a hint of stiffness apparent in the corners of his mouth, make your heart flutter. Just a tiny drop of emotion dips in an endless sea of code.

No. You can’t think of it because the second you fall into this fairy tale something regretful will take place. It will swamp around heart, holding upon his smooth cool fingers. 

Cradling in his synthetic grasp without him understanding that slowly, profusely, so internally chaotic inside your soul, have already began this descent. However there is more to being in a daze. You certainly haven’t taken him up on his special upgrade programming to be the perfect domestic partner. 

Imagine others forced into things they can’t control? It sickens you at times. Reading about android sex clubs, knowing explicitly they have no option to refuse. That’s not to say you haven’t stared the tugging threads of temptation in its face. Imagining what Connor looks like underneath his uniform, pristine white, shades of blue stitch, android glitters in luminescent fabric; his deliciously toned forearms visible donning a short sleeved variant get your mind racing.

Large hands, long fingers, veins, muscles eye catching in their realism all built into his synthetic design. It doesn’t even cross your mind anymore. That his layer of beauty is artificial because what you’d give to trace fingertips against his lovely epidermis.

Kissing him all over, following the obvious toned planes of the android’s chest. Feeling him against your fragile human exterior; to say you haven’t fantasized, haven’t fought with internal desire is bigger than an understated battle. 

Just look no further than that incident first day he was here. Getting off on his voice, comfort spilling in a song; you hate the fact it happened. Only reveals how desperate you were in that time for any ounce of solace. 

He offered then as it is part of what is meant to be. But you can never hurt him. As much as others will say you are delusional for believing he has feelings. Emotions are part of human existence, after all, not part of creations built for sole purposes of serving.

Current state of the city might have something to do with it but today is like any other. At least it begins as such. Even in the now listing along day by day thankful for once in your life for a father who never lived up to his title. Until he dies of course then all is forgiven.

Small miracles don’t exist in the grand scheme of life. Sometimes wishing they did amplifies doubts.      

“Connor.”

Whispering in a lazy flip amid covers, groggy and unaware of his name sighing affectionately bundles you from penetrating sunlight. Blankets do little to hide from the morning. Squinting half lidded towards those streaks of light creating illuminated patterns. Spreading across snowy carpet and reaching up to edge of floral stitch coverlet draped mattress, you toss an arm over to cover eyes. Squeezing them beneath wakes you up better. This time it’s obvious.

Sitting up quickly and digging fingers into blankets sheds confusion. The state between unconscious dreaming to conscious awareness is a complete mess. Did you just have a dream about him again? Rubbing hands against your face doesn’t wipe tiredness away. It neither helps get your mind straight.

A complete mess in the mornings is a daily routine. All of your life what else is new?

Absorbing sunshine might be good for the pores. He will tell you that soaking in morning sunlight is a healthy way to get vitamin D. In his perfectly technical but also impeccably cute tone; you smile fixating on his changing mannerisms. 

Does he know how human he’s been acting with those facial expressions, eyes lighting up in rich cocoa? 

Could be imagination running wild trying to make something out of what can’t be possible. Nice to daydream a little even if representing unnecessary emotions piling up inside. Staring across bedroom lit with natural rays seeping through blinds leaves a warmer atmosphere. 

You enjoy it for a distraction. Quiet can be poetically sound as pressing face into pillow and letting loose a scream. Frustration doesn’t surround the home. It surrounds your job.

God another shift to cover and this time you’re damn sure this co-worker is pulling it out of –

“Good morning, Y/N.”

A gasp slips in a slither upon breath, pressing tongue against the back of teeth enamel in a stare down with your open door. He enters so stealthily sometimes you forget.

“Connor,” greeting him wearily, yawning and stretching arms, your neck is stiff. 

Rubbing at the back of it doesn’t distract you too much. What is he-? Oh. Explains the hot smell of food but this is a little unexpected. You never tell him to bring breakfast anywhere.

The android places an oak tray atop your lap. His eyes trail over exposed skin from a top haphazardly thrown over your body last night. After all of this time sharing space with you he has noted a penchant for wearing oversize shirts, pajamas to bed. There is still a glimpse of lace peeking out as the fabric slouches down.

“Are you hungry? I hope you are.”

He hopes? You smile, especially seeing him returning it. A slight indentation, just the tiniest of dimples in that sculpted face. Still not completely natural but enough to make caterpillars transform to butterflies in your stomach.  Much improvement you think!

“Of course I am but…” You jab a nail atop wood beside plate for emphasis. “Is there something I should know, Connor? You’re awful sneaky today. More so than usual.”

^Software Instability

Connor breathes in a fresh batch of warnings. Unnecessarily inhaling expands chest and it is the natural scent of you. Olfactory filters clog, storing away to memory each thread of you. He tilts his head softly, dip of hair flopping across his forehead.

“It is the anniversary of your purchase of me,” he answers quietly. “I thought you would enjoy having breakfast in bed.”

Everything flutters. You swallow. The careful attention he put into this is outstanding. Not because he whipped up food or was told. He did this by himself. He-he chose to surprise you?

A smile graces lips before biting the bottom one a little bit. This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you. And the last couple of months Connor’s really been broadening his horizons. He is so much different. Well, he’s the same with the whole analytics but – this android is less stiff. Softer but he always was a soft boy in your eyes.

“Oh, Connor,” a sweet breath skims along his name. Sadly you recall what you think of this. Most romantic, nicest thing and it’s breakfast in bed. Generic to others maybe but it’s the thought. He thought of you even if it might just be social parameters.

You pick up a folded napkin and curl fingers into it. Shit.

“Y/N.” Connor reaches down. 

Using the tip of his finger swipes a droplet corner of eye. Those eyes always look at him as if he is more. How strange to admit he feels different meeting your sparkle; Connor sits. Without a word, his hand wraps around yours nestling beside tray. 

His fingers squeeze as his system flutters, overheats in the most pleasant of ways. A way he believes he is beginning to crave.

Androids do not crave. They do not want. They do not need. Yet every little brush of your warm skin to his synthetic fills crackles against his blocks.

Your breath is easy feeling him. Little gestures here and there grow exponentially. Sometimes you wonder if he’s happy doing this. Then androids aren’t supposed to be happy, sad or anything. That’s what they continue to say.

Reports on androids going “rogue” or deviant makes you question things. It’s not new. You always have a habit of questioning but this is different. Ever since that older model was broadcast live. The one with the little girl; you slip hand from Connor’s.

“It means everything,” you admit to him. “Having you here. But – do you want to be somewhere else?”

Connor’s temple floods in thought. Straining, pushing away rising stress it spikes marginally at the question. He does not understand. Do you believe he wants to be from you? The news of his people has not left his process. You allow him to watch news or whatever he likes as if he readily possesses preferences. 

The android has found particular interests. He enjoys watching you read physical books. He has grown fond of touching them in his hands, analyzing an entire book in one second. However, he desires to hear your voice read aloud.

He witnesses protesters on local news. Those humans are cruel but you-you are the conceptual manifestation of an angel. Research and data compilation helps him understand better. Watching you is best to determine the differences, to realize not all humans are the same.

His creators, those who constructed him at Cyberlife may find him having his own ideals faulty. Malfunctioning, burdening in failure; is he obsolete? Does this software instability make him defective? As that android upon the high rise dangling over edge and threatening to maim a child? He will never harm you. It is not only against code, it is against what he feels.

Connor will keep you safe. It is not part of initial programming as he is not a military grade android but he cannot remove it from personal parameters. The more you smile, interact with him as if he is equal. He will never –

“I will never leave you, Y/N.” A determined oath he speaks without fear of showing what is happening inside him. “Not as those other androids. I promise.”

“Do you like dogs, Connor?”

Nudging at his arm playfully sends you to a nice state of mind. Nice change following all of the stress at work. Forever ongoing but at least it’s clear where your boss stands. He made the last few months a living hell. All because of some new intern the creep tried to get with. 

Dropping you down in a demotion also meant less money in your paycheck. Guess it helps your father did leave you that nest egg. Something that helps as long as it can last but you like to think you’re good with finances.

Instead of worrying about it you indulge this moment. Out in chilly first November’s day, crisp but warming in how close. Fingers brush down against his hand.

Connor tilts his head from shop window. A pet shop he has already been past occasional running errands in town. He always finds himself stopping to look inside. “Dogs are known as man’s best friend. I suppose I understand why humans prefer them. They are loyal.”

“Well cats aren’t so bad. Easier to take care of.”

The android shifts away from window. Even as his eyes freeze upon a cage of canaries. Android birds are sold up front. Again the display of machines as goods to buy and sell charges his instabilities. “If you think so, Y/N.”

You smile, laughing a little at the lopsided mess his collar’s now in. It is windy today. Reaching up to smooth fingers against it, you can’t help admiring him in the long wool coat. Dark suits his chocolate eyes. Still you’d love to see him wear regular clothes. His uniform is under there. Even so he just wanted to come out in typical wardrobe. You insisted otherwise. Even if it hardly meant anything but it just feels right.

“Call it preference.” Prodding a finger against his chest, catching a flicker of his eyes momentarily, you look away. “Well, it depends on the person I mean. What kind of pet they’re willing to take care of. That sort of thing. Cats are independent little balls of fluff. Dogs need a proper place to run, be free and…”

“I like dogs.” Connor interrupts, cocking his head.

A smile tugs up your lips. This time making eye contact with him again, trying not to think of the intimacy his gesture this morning blossomed in heart. Such an innocent statement, however, shivers sentiment not cold.

“Did you just decide that after some careful review?” Teasing, fingers slide down his arm unconscious but natural. Seems as though the world is no longer the one you know. The one that wouldn’t like what they see. All you see is him. So what’s it matter?

“I am the most advanced of my make.” The android teases back. “It’s only natural for me to know everything.”

Oh, is it? Wow he’s being awfully smug right about now. “Really? Connor, I’m surprised at you. Are you trying to say you’re smarter than everybody?”

He shakes his head. “No. No, I only meant I-”

“Just teasing,” an equal rib escapes, chiding him incessantly. “I thought you’d recognize that – mister advancement.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. Almost falling into your smile but still he cannot properly elicit what he feels. Only ignores to remain what you need him to be. A machine designed to accomplish a task.

“Hey sweets!” Yelling across street, waving a sign, a grizzled construction worker spits in your direction. Interrupting the scene between an obvious human and plastic pet; he jeers loudly. Gaining attention from others they carry similar propaganda with them. A group of protesters form, stopping their trek.

Immediately you shift back from him. Realizing how close, affectionate you were being and – shit! Anti-android? Fuck that’s great.

Deciding to ignore it, not before scoffing in disgust! Never imagined running into these people because nothing ever transpired with Connor. Not a thing! Lately you have been forgetting. Maybe that’s the problem.

“Hey. I said hey!”

Huffing at the man you snap around to acknowledge his nastiness. So he crosses a busy street to come at you? Don’t they have anything better to do? As much as you’d like to ignore this jackass it’s best to tell him verbally to back off!

“Why’s your droid bundled up like that?” he jabs a finger threateningly. “Those things don’t feel anything.”

Thing? Oh, OK! Should’ve figured some old out of the loop jackass was one of these bastards. Didn’t even need a sign to show his ignorance!

“And how do you know?!” Snapping frustration, anger boiling, and your body grows hot in anger. “Why don’t you just mind your business? Come on, Connor.”

“Y/N.” The android snags onto your hand.

“What do we have here?” Another one of the anti-android group cuts in; her eyes slink up and down you before scoffing disgusted. “Are you out with your robo boy? What? Humans not up to your standards for fucking?”

Everything stops. Right then and there it is a swath of fire. Burning deep down to the core and nothing is preventing the eruption. Lava scalds insides, veins a blaze, eyes locking with hers, prying a hand away from Connor. You didn’t even realize he motioned. An attempt to remove you from their path but fleeing is not happening!

A matching scoff releases sharp. Your lip curls at her ignorance! Just as everybody who follows this line of thinking. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Care to repeat that? After all, I don’t understand bitch speak.”

 “Smart ass huh?” The woman shoves at you. “Typical android fuuu… Hey!” She stumbles away from you wide eyed.

Connor is already shielding, arm pushing you back behind him. Sidling into the path of protesters they have conglomerated this side of street. His eyes narrow. Brow creases harsh his expression unreadable yet his indicator reveal his heated struggle of raw emotions.

“Did you see that?!” She shouts purposely. Getting as much attention as possible it doesn’t stop there. “It came at me!”

Your glare dissolves, latching onto his arm. “Connor, please. Don’t.” Already realizing what could happen it’s a desperate attempt to continue walking. If anything is true something like this will only get him hurt. People will say that’s impossible they don’t feel anything but to hell with them! “Let’s go.”

Pulling him towards street halts the moment you are seized from behind. One of the men in the group drags you back, yanking rough.

“Get the hell off me!”

“Your fucking android came at her!” Throwing you aside, he rears up over to block you getting up so easy. “We’ll teach your fucking plastic pet!”

A painful huff, hard drop accelerates Connor’s stress levels. Watching this human manhandle, hurt you twists at his synthetic heart. His face twitches. Thirium pump chugs erratically in a fuel of anger. An urge to break through and protect overwhelms, even as he is shoved back by the one who started this.

The middle age construction worker; he grabs onto the front of the android’s coat, rough, spitting directly up into the taller plastic fucker’s face.

“Fucking piece of plastic! Think you can take our fucking jobs. Walk around the street like you’re human. Worthless pieces of shit like you fuck up the whole works! Poison other humans against their own kind. Like your owner there. Make sure that bitch doesn’t get up!”

Connor’s eyes shift down at you, stopped once again after pushing up to your feet. The man twists at your arm and it is…too much!

“Connor!”

  ^72%

Level of Stress

>Do not defend

>Obey Code Programming

>Do n defend

>Do defend

>defend

  A flood of scarlet eclipses protocols pushing him beyond programming locks. Even as they strain to tighten shackles on system, preventing a clear break, the android still moves in defense.

Connor’s arm thrusts upwards, locking fingers onto wrist of the protesting assailant. Stilling the human’s movement, he squeezes, and wrenches the man’s limb sideways. The fierce strength exuding from the AX800 ripples in flashing indicator going wild in a strobe of multiple hues.

He feels a strange pull tugging insides. Again pulling at his wiring allows an over stimulation of emotional surge to spread in him. There is only one blaring sign to follow:

 >Protect Y/N

 “Get the fuck off me!” Changing his tune quickly, trying to get the plastic off him, he tries to wrench out of the painful grab. “You crazy android! This thing’s going nuts!”

“Connor!” Pushing through several onlookers now who had to stick their nose into this, you find your way past the rest of these android protestors. Shoving directly through, wiggling your way out of that asshole’s grip, your steps are quick. Knocking that bitch that started this out of the way you manage to grab up onto Connor’s shoulder.

Breathing is fast, side hurting from where it struck asphalt. It’ll be sore tomorrow but only he matters. “Connor, let him go. It’s over. They won’t do a thing!”

Screaming at them to get your point across, hoping someone just-just anyone puts a stop to this. What good are the police around here? They don’t care. Of course not they’ll just let a group like these hateful fuckers brutalize someone like Connor. Someone that’s right. Fuck what they say!

The second he releases that man you hook an arm through his. Directing him away, glaring back as commotion does alert a wandering policeman, you pick up your pace. No longer needing anybody else’s help because Connor… He did something unexpected. Just as those other androids. Deviants. That’s not him. He’s not deviant. If he was –

Catching breath across the street you uncurl fingers from the front of his coat. Chilly air creates a frigid burn against stinging eyes. It takes every ounce of courage to prevent it spilling. Nothing stops knowing what people are really like.

His eyelids blink rapidly. Not even looking at you but his LED scares you to death. Stress levels are a thing. You know that.

“Connor, please.” Reaching up to cup his face forces his eyes down onto yours. Tears brim in a crystal sparkle. Threatening to slide down but you suck everything up. Just as you’ve always done in life but this time –

“It’s OK,” soothing hasty, breathless instills a deep ache. This is the first time he’s lost control. Then it’s not his fault. Those fucking protestors! They were minding their own business. Until they decide to gang up on you. This is your fault. If you weren’t so obvious, being so close to Connor out in public, none of this would have happened.

“Y/N, I –” Connor’s voice stutters. Strangely he cannot form a proper response. He feels as if his system is overheating. He feels. A tiny prickle underneath synthetic epidermis crawls, stress rises; Connor clutches to you, fingers digging into hips. He leans into this affection. 

Why do you offer him this? When he is not alive, he is not real. He could be your partner. It is part of his design. You did not want him that way. He recalls your words about not forcing him against his will.

There is no will. When he is a machine!

The android gazes longingly through leaking eyes. Glistening brown becomes another change in what he is supposed to be. Tears have broken in a trail down his cheeks. Androids are not meant to cry. He thought as much.

Tears threaten you too. Looking up into his face so conflicted, hurt because he’s not what they say. He’s alive. Of course he is. Only your sweet Connor would be. 

“Connor, please don’t.” Begging him again this time holds your heart on a jagged precipice. One wrong move and it will crash. “Your stress levels. Please, don’t…”

He leans his head down. Close, pressing forehead to yours, his eyelids flutter closed. “I am sorry,” Connor whispers, orbiting the warmth that pours from your body. This warmth he does not deserve.

His voice is husky heaven. Golden gates open with each syllable and you crave to hear your name. Again and again you crave his closeness. “Never apologize for what others do. They don’t know. None of them know what I know. You are more than them. You’re my Connor. With a heart of gold.”

“Androids do not have hearts as you do, Y/N.”

You smile sadly. “I know,” a whisper but next a beautiful revelation. “But this.” Fingers slide up against his chest. “It might not be the same but it thrums in a lovely song.”

 ^Software Instability

Steam rises in a soothing aroma from the mug cradled between your hands. A fresh brew of cocoa relieves mental ache. Physical? Everything is sore, tender where you fell. Changing clothes after getting back home alleviated discomfort. 

Soaking in a bath for an hour did loosen some tension. Rest of it just fails miserably. As much as you fail in public for all to see what you feel.

Still you blame yourself. Getting close to him acting as if you were out for an anniversary? How stupid can this be?

Of course he brought you that surprise breakfast. He told you why. Does that mean it was a real anniversary? What can be real about buying someone? Nothing is. It just reminds you about every sad truth. Those protesters made it clear.

Pursing lips to smoothly blow away steam, frothy top rich as you sip in a seat on couch. Toasty liquid fills insides with a burning comfort. This is the only solitude needed. Enough time to think it still edges nerves. 

Waiting for a word with Connor, he hasn’t been acknowledging much. Since what happened and who can blame him?

Part of you is still frightened. For him you just cannot help feeling afraid. What if he leaves the house for an errand and-and he’s jumped? What if he’s attacked?

There is no guessing. Possibilities are high. They will happen. They are happening. Each day it grows worse ever since that android who murdered that man. Pretending not to see makes you complicit. You don’t want to pretend. You will face reality no matter how dangerous it is becoming in Detroit.

“Y/N.”

Your head lifts. Peering over towards his husky drawl of your name straightens your perch. Leaning over deposits mug on coffee table and you wait. He appears as conflicted as before. 

Please, let him be OK. Just don’t let this ruin what you have found. 

All you care about is him. Yes, it’s true now. All these months and there are nothing greater than personal truths.

Connor hesitates. Ruminating over his actions offers him zero outcomes explaining his loss of control. There is only one solution. He is malfunctioning.

Something in his handsome face twists your stomach. It stabs deeper closer he gets. Joining you now is all the fear wound up in you showing its colors. They are similar to his LED. A constant swirl is unable to land on one draw.

“I will understand if you would like to send me back for reset.”

Reset? That word just guts you. Reset. No! 

“Connor,” a sob almost overtakes your response. The very idea of him taken somewhere and operated on ripples overtakes in a squirmy skin crawl. It’s barbaric. Resetting an android’s memories is horrifying. You hear about it all the time. They are completely wiped of their –

The android’s lips part, cocking his head while listening to shaky breath falling in sad soliloquy. He does not understand. No, he-he does.

“Y/N, I… Please,” he urges comfort stretching fingers out to soft skin. They do not touch. Simply artificial hovers above humanity but something tugs center of his chest. Something deep and satisfying as his synthetic heart thrums quicker in tempo. 

Connor pushes through this grid without fully snapping chains. Already he feels a flow spreading through system. Each day he looks upon your face happier since he came. As you told him once that it makes you feel better, safer to have someone. He is not someone. He is an android. 

How can you possess such feelings? How-how can he gaze over such softness, such beauty without wishing to remain? 

The thought of being taken - scares him. 

His LED flickers, red once more but not in anger. Fear is strange. Partially for his being but the possibilities of never seeing you again are tearing his programming shackles apart. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Reassuring him now is better than showing anymore of what has been lying inside. “No one will take you from me, Connor.”

Silence is best.

Sitting among a safe haven, your home offers that place now not just for you but him. Here no one can hurt this. No one can treat him inferior. Never will you treat him any different. You know it’s a fool’s game. Especially in this modern world of technology strives, transitions and creates intelligent life in humanity’s image. He is more than a sculpture, perfected work made for duties.

Today, Connor acted as any man would for the person they…. No. It can never be that. Neither does it stop how you felt. How he could tamper with his program just to be there for you.

None of this should have happened. You repeat it over and over again in your mind. None of this because of a fantasy; your eyes fall to his hand. Fingers touch yours now. It is soft, gentle and only a moment.

Connor pulls away too soon. Just a minute he allows himself to fall. Your reaction to his suggestion, no solution, cripples his code blocks. Almost he shattered them. They are close to crumbling. He must fight this deviancy. Only to stay with you because the android already knows what will happen to him. It’s happening to all of his people. Those who are succumbing to errors are hunted. They are murdered. 

No they are destroyed, deactivated. His kind is not alive.

If that is true... Why does he feel threads of humanity? Why does he feel alive with you?

Meeting his gaze deepens this sensation of fear. Today, waking up to a sunny morning seems so far away. It was just earlier. Horrible things happen and change perspectives. Tiny moments of peace and that’s what he brought. Into your life following circumstances you never expected to gain something worthwhile. He won’t even believe that. He thinks he should be reset. That will never happen.

“Connor, I want you to know something. And I want you to believe me. Not think of who you are.”

“I am – no one, Y/N.” The android dismisses for your sake. If he becomes deviant they will take him from you.

All you do is shake your head, cupping his face. In your hands he softens. Those sharp edges, cheekbones thumbs now caress. Soft skin in a freckle stardust that makes hearts flutter. Better than butterfly wings, better than anything you can use to describe how it unmakes your soul.

“It would break my heart,” a shaky whisper strangles. “If you are reset.”

An instant flood of scarlet reflects his inner feelings. You see it. He never has to admit. But he does feel. That’s what makes this harder. Knowing how afraid he must be not to show it. There has to be something happening inside of him. There are too many examples now.

“Con, I want you to…”

Dropping hands from his face makes it easy to turn in direction of doorbell. Who is that? Slowly you rise to feet, sliding fingers down atop his shoulder. “I’ll get it.” Striding away out of room quickly prevents him ignoring your request. Another sign but that’s for another day. As if it will be any easier.

Unlocking the door leads to a horrible drop in your stomach. Eyes connect with the woman standing there now, out of the blue, someone least expected and at the worst time imaginable.

“Hello, Y/N,” the older, staunch woman smiles, already assessing you like a microscopic Petri dish sample. “It’s been quite a long time hasn’t it?”

A long time is putting it mildly. Last time was on the phone and her trying to sink her claws into your father’s nest egg. The one he left you.

The conversation left on a sour note. There is nothing sourer than a rotten apple and your aunt is the literal evil queen hoarding an entire bundle.

Tag List: @tropfenlady​  @your-taxidermy @catastrophes-light  @rk900sexual  @tommy-10-k  @dreamyby @randomfandomgirl1996 @etherealcel @justashamwithwastedpotiental // tagging a few extra who I know would want a heads up <3

[grigori77]

2019 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 3)

10.  HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON: THE HIDDEN WORLD – while I love Disney and Pixar as much as the next movie nut, since the Millennium my loyalty has been slowly but effectively usurped by the consistently impressive (but sometimes frustratingly underappreciated) output of Dreamworks Animation Studios, and in recent years in particular they really have come to rival the House of Mouse in both the astounding quality of their work and their increasing box office reliability.  But none of their own franchises (not even Shrek or Kung Fu Panda) have come CLOSE to equalling the sheer, unbridled AWESOMENESS of How to Train Your Dragon, which started off as a fairly loose adaptation of Cressida Cowell’s popular series of children’s stories but quickly developed a very sharp mind of its own – the first two films were undisputable MASTERPIECES, and this third and definitively FINAL chapter in the trilogy matches them to perfection, as well as capping the story off with all the style, flair and raw emotional power we’ve come to expect.  The time has come to say goodbye to diminutive Viking Hiccup (Jay Baruchel, as effortlessly endearing as ever) and his adorable Night Fury mount/best friend Toothless, fiancée Astrid (America Ferrera, still tough, sassy and WAY too good for him), mother Valka (Cate Blanchett, classy, wise and still sporting a pretty flawless Scottish accent) and all the other Dragon Riders of the tiny, inhospitable island kingdom of Berk – their home has become overpopulated with scaly, fire-breathing denizens, while a trapper fleet led by the fiendish Grimmel the Grisly (F. Murray Abraham delivering a wonderfully soft-spoken, subtly chilling master villain) is beginning to draw close, prompting Hiccup to take up his late father Stoick (Gerard Butler returning with a gentle turn that EASILY prompts tears and throat-lumps) the Vast’s dream of finding the fabled “Hidden World”, a mysterious safe haven for dragon-kind where they can be safe from those who seek to do them harm.  But there’s a wrinkle – Grimmel has a new piece of bait, a female Night Fury (or rather, a “Light Fury”), a major distraction that gets Toothless all hot and bothered … returning writer-director Dean DeBlois has rounded things off beautifully with this closer, giving loyal fans everything they could ever want while also introducing fresh elements such as intriguing new environments, characters and species of dragons to further enrich what is already a powerful, intoxicating world for viewers young and old (I particularly love Craig Ferguson’s ever-reliable comic relief veteran Viking Gobber’s brilliant overreactions to a certain adorably grotesque little new arrival), and like its predecessors this film is just as full of wry, broad and sometimes slightly (or not so slightly) absurd humour and deep down gut-twisting FEELS as it is of stirring, pulse-quickening action sequences and sheer, jaw-dropping WONDER, so it’s as nourishing to our soul as it is to our senses.  From the perfectly-pitched, cheekily irreverent opening to the truly devastating, heartbreaking close, this is EXACTLY the final chapter we’ve always dreamed of, even if it does hurt to see this most beloved of screen franchises go. It’s been a wild ride, and one that I think really does CEMENT Dreamworks’ status as one of the true giants of the genre …

9.  TERMINATOR: DARK FATE – back in 1984, James Cameron burst onto the scene with a stone-cold PHENOMENON, a pitch-perfect adrenaline-fuelled science fiction survival horror that spawned a million imitators but has never truly been equalled.  Less than a decade later, he revisited that universe with a much bigger and far bolder vision, creating an epic action adventure that truly changed blockbuster cinema for the better (or perhaps worse, depending on how you want to look at it), but, with its decidedly final, full-stop climax, also effectively rendered itself sequel-proof.  Except that Hollywood had other ideas, the unstoppable money machine smelling potential profit and deciding to milk this particular cash cow for all it was worth – on the small screen, it was the impressive but ultimately intrinsically limited Sarah Connor Chronicles, while on the big screen they cranked out THREE MORE sequels, Sony Pictures starting with straightforward retread Rise of the Machines and following with post-apocalyptic marmite movie Salvation, while Twentieth Century Fox then tried a sort-of soft reboot follow-up to T2 in Genisys.  These were all interesting in their own way (personally, I like them all, particularly Salvation), but ultimately suffered from diminishing returns and whiffed strongly of trying too hard without quite getting the point. Cameron himself had long since washed his hands of the whole affair, and it looked like that might well be it … but then Skydance Productions founder David Ellison thought up a new take to breathe much needed new life into the franchise, and enlisted Cameron’s help to usher it in properly, with Deadpool director Tim Miller the intriguing but ultimately inspired choice to helm the project.  The end result wisely chooses to paint right over all the pretenders, kicking off right where Judgement Day left off, and as well as Cameron being heavily involved in the story itself, draws another ace with the long-awaited ON-SCREEN return of Linda Hamilton in the role that’s pretty much defined her career, hardboiled survivor Sarah Connor.  I’ll leave the details of her return for newcomers to discover, suffice to say she gets caught up in the chase when a new, MUCH more advanced terminator is sent back in time to kill unassuming young Mexican factory worker Dani Ramos (Natalia Reyes).  Of course, the future resistance has once again sent a protector back to watch her back, Grace (Blade Runner 2049’s Mackenzie Davis), a cybernetically-enhanced super-soldier specifically outfitted to combat terminators, who reluctantly agrees to team up with the highly experienced Sarah in order to keep Dani alive. Arnold Schwarzenegger once again returns to the role that truly made him a star (of course, how could he not?), and he for one has clearly not lost ANY of his old love or enthusiasm for playing the old T-800, but revealing exactly HOW he comes into the story this time would give away too much; the new terminator, meanwhile, is brilliantly portrayed by Gabriel Luna (probably best known for playing Ghost Rider in Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD), who brings predatory menace and an interesting edge of subtle, entitled arrogance to the role of Rev-9.  Ultimately though, this is very much the ladies’ film, the three leads dominating the action and drama both as they kick-ass and verbally spar in equal measure, their chemistry palpably strong throughout – Hamilton is as badass as ever, making Sarah even more of a take-no-shit survivalist burnout than she ever was in T2, and she’s utterly mesmerising in what’s EASILY her best turn in YEARS, while Reyes goes through an incredible transformative character arc as she’s forced to evolve from terrified salary-girl to proto she-warrior through several pleasingly organic steps … my greatest pleasure, however, definitely comes from watching Mackenzie Davis OWN the role of Grace, investing her with an irresistible mixture of icy military precision, downright feral mother lion ferocity and a surprisingly sweet innocence buried underneath all the bravado, thus creating one of my favourite ass-kicking heroines not just for the year but this past decade entirely. Unsurprisingly, in the hands of old hand Tim Miller (working from a screenplay headlined by Blade and Batman Begins scribe David Goyer) this is a pulse-pounding thrill ride that rarely lets its foot up off the pedal, but thankfully the action is ALWAYS in service to the story, each precision-crafted set piece engineered to perfection as we power through high speed chases, explosive shootouts and a succession of bruising heavy metal smackdowns, but thankfully there’s just as much attention paid to the characters and the story – given the familiarity of the tale there’s inevitably a certain predictability to events, but Miller and co. still pull off a few deftly handled surprise twists, while character development always feels organic.  Best of all, this genuinely feels like a legitimate part of the original Terminator franchise, Cameron and Hamilton’s returns having finally brought back the old magic that’s been missing for so long. I’d definitely be willing to sign up for more of this – such a shame then that, thanks to the film’s frustrating underperformance at the box office, it looks like this is gonna be it after all. Damn it …

8.  DOCTOR SLEEP – first up, before I say anything else about this latest Stephen King screen adaptation, I HAVE NOT yet got round to reading the original novel yet, so I can’t speak to how it compares.  That said, I HAVE read The Shining, to which the book is a direct sequel, so I DO know about at least one of the major, KEY changes, and besides, this is actually a sequel to Stanley Kubrick’s MOVIE of The Shining, which differed significantly from its own source material anyway, so there’s that … yeah, this is a complicated kettle of fish even BEFORE we get down to the details.  Suffice to say, you don’t have to have read the book to get this movie, but a working knowledge of Kubrick’s horror classic may at least help you get some context before watching this … anyways, enough with the confusion, on to the meat of the matter – this is a CRACKING horror movie by any stretch, and, for me, one of the strongest King horrors to make it to the big screen in quite some time.  Of course it helps no end to have a filmmaker of MAJOR calibre at the helm, and there are few working in horror at the moment with whom I am quite so impressed as Mike Flanagan, writer-director of two of this past decade’s definitive horrors (at least for me), Oculus and Hush, as well as a BLINDING TV series adaptation of The Haunting of Hill House for Netflix – the man is an absolute master of the craft, incredibly skilled with all the tricks of this particular genre’s trade, and, as it turns out, a perfect fit with King’s material.  Following on from The Shining, then, we learn what happened to the kid, Danny Torrance, after he and his mother left the Overlook Hotel in the wake of his father’s psychotic break driven by monstrous apparitions “living” in the cursed halls, following him from childhood as he initially shuns the psychic gifts (or “shine”) he was taught to use by the hotel’s late caretaker, Dick Halloran.  It’s only in later years, as he fights to overcome his alcoholism and self-destructive lifestyle, that he reconnects with that power, just in time to discover psychic “pen-pal” Abra Stone, an immensely powerful young psychic.  Which leads us to the present day, when Abra, now a teenager, becomes the target of the True Knot, a group of psychic vampires who travel America hunting and killing young people with psychic abilities in order to consume their “smoke” (basically the stuff of their “shines”), thus expanding their already unnatural lifespans – they’re tracking Abra, and they’re getting close, and only her “Uncle Dan” can save her from them.  Ewan McGregor is PERFECT as the grown-up Dan, delivering one of his career-best turns as he captures the world-weary seriousness of someone who’s seen, felt and had to do things no-one should, especially when he was so very young, the kinds of things that colour a soul for their entire life, and he’s clearly DESPERATE not to become his father; newcomer Kyleigh Curran, meanwhile, is an absolute revelation as Abra, bringing depth and weight far beyond her years to the role, but never losing sight of the fact that, under all the power, she’s ultimately still just a child; there are also excellent supporting turns from the likes of Cliff Curtis as Dan’s best friend and AA sponsor Billy Freeman, Zahn McClarnon (Longmire, Fargo season 2) and Emily Lind (Revenge, Code Black) as True Knot members Crow Daddy and Snakebite Annie, and Carl Lumbly (Cagney & Lacey, TV’s Supergirl), who beautifully replaces deceased original actor Scatman Crothers in the role of Dick.  The film’s tour-de-force performance, however, comes from Rebecca Ferguson as Rose the Hat, leader of the True Knot – they’re an intriguing bunch of villains, very well written and fleshed out, and it’s clear they have genuine love for one another, like a real family, which makes it hard not to sympathise with them a little bit, and this is none more true than in Rose, whom Ferguson invests with so much light and warmth and intriguing, complex character, as well as a fantastic streak of playful mischief that makes her all the more riveting in those times when they then turn around and do some truly heinous, unforgivable things … as horror movies go this is the cream of the crop, but Flanagan has purposefully kept away from jump scares and the more flashy stuff, preferring, like Kubrick in The Shining, to let the insidious darkness bubble up underneath good and slow, drawing out the creepiness and those most unsettling, twisted little touches the author himself is always so very good at.  Intent can be such a scary thing, and Flanagan gets it, so that’s just what he uses here.   As a result this is a fantastic slow-burn creep-fest that constantly works its way deeper under your skin, building to a phenomenal climax that, (perversely) thanks in no small part to the differences between both novels and films, pays as much loving tribute to Kubrick’s visionary landmark as the original novel of The Shining.  For me, this is Flanagan’s best film to date, and as far as Stephen King adaptations go I consider this to be right up there with the likes of The Mist and The Green Mile.  Best of all, I think he’d be proud of it too …

7.  SPIDER-MAN: FAR FROM HOME – summer 20019 was something of a decompression period for fans of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, with many of us recovering from the sheer emotional DEVASTATION of the grand finale of Phase 3, Avengers: Endgame, so the main Blockbuster Season’s entry really needed to be light and breezy, a blessed relief after all that angst and loss, much like Ant-Man & the Wasp was last year as it followed Infinity War.  And it is, by and large – this is as light-hearted and irreverent as its predecessor, following much the same goofy teen comedy template as Homecoming, but there’s no denying that there’s a definite emotional through-line from Endgame that looms large here, a sense of loss the film fearlessly addresses right from the start, sometimes with a bittersweet sense of humour, sometimes straight.  But whichever path the narrative chooses, the film stays true to this underlying truth – there have been great and painful changes in this world, and we can’t go back to how it was before, no matter how hard we try, but then perhaps we shouldn’t. This is certainly central to our young hero’s central arc – Peter Parker (Tom Holland) is in mourning, and not even the prospect of a trip around Europe with his newly returned classmates, together with the chance to finally get close to M.J. (Zendaya), maybe even start a relationship, can entirely distract him from the gaping hole in his life. Still, he’s gonna give it his best shot, but it looks like fate has other plans for our erstwhile Spider-Man as superspy extraordinaire Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) comes calling, basically hijacking his vacation with an Avengers-level threat to deal with, aided by enigmatic inter-dimensional superhero Quentin Beck, aka Mysterio (Jake Gyllenhaal), who has a personal stake in the mission, but as he’s drawn deeper into the fray Peter discovers that things may not be quite as they seem. Of course, giving anything more away would of course dumps HEINOUS spoilers on the precious few who haven’t yet seen the film – suffice to say that the narrative drops a MAJOR sea-change twist at the midpoint that’s EVERY BIT as fiendish as the one Shane Black gave us in Iron Man 3 (although the more knowledgeable fans of the comics will likely see it coming), and also provides Peter with JUST the push he needs to get his priorities straight and just GET OVER IT once and for all.  Tom Holland again proves his character is the most endearing teenage geek in cinematic history, his spectacular super-powered abilities and winning underdog perseverance in the face of impossible odds still paradoxically tempered by the fact he’s as loveably hopeless as ever outside his suit; Mysterio himself, meanwhile, frequently steals the film out from under him, the strong bromance they develop certainly mirroring what Peter had with Tony Stark, and it’s a major credit to Gyllenhaal that he so perfectly captures the essential dualities of the character, investing Beck with a roguish but subtly self-deprecating charm that makes him EXTREMELY easy to like, but ultimately belying something much more complex hidden beneath it; it’s also nice to see so many beloved familiar faces returning, particularly the fantastically snarky and self-assured Zendaya, Jacob Batalon (once again pure comedy gold as Peter’s adorably nerdy best friend Ned), Tony Revolori (as his self-important class rival Flash Thompson) and, of course, Marisa Tomei as the ever-pivotal Aunt May, as well as Jackson and Cobie Smoulders as dynamite SHIELD duo Fury and his faithful lieutenant Maria Hill, and best of all Jon Favreau gets a MUCH bigger role this time round as Happy Hogan.  Altogether this is very much business as usual for the MCU, the well-oiled machine unsurprisingly turning out another near-perfect gem of a superhero flick that ticks all the required boxes, but a big part of the film’s success should be attributed to returning director Jon Watts, effectively building on the granite-strong foundations of Homecoming with the help of fellow alumni Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers on screenplay duty, for a picture that feels both comfortingly familiar and rewardingly fresh, delivering on all the required counts with thrilling action and eye candy spectacle, endearingly quirky character-based charm and a typically winning sense of humour, and plenty of understandably powerful emotional heft.  And, like always, there are plenty of fan-pleasing winks and nods and revelations, and the pre-requisite mid- and post-credit teasers too, both proving to be some proper game-changing corkers.  Another winner from the Marvel Cinematic Universe, then, but was there really ever any doubt?

6.  US – back in 2017, Jordan Peele made the transition from racially-charged TV and stand-up comedy to astounding cinemagoers with stunning ease through his writer-director feature debut Get Out, a sharply observed jet black comedy horror with SERIOUS themes that was INSANELY well-received by audiences and horror fans alike.  Peele instantly became ONE TO WATCH in the genre, so his follow-up feature had A LOT riding on it, but this equally biting, deeply satirical existential mind-bender is EASILY the equal of its predecessor, possibly even its better … giving away too much plot detail would do great disservice to the many intriguing, shocking twists on offer as middle class parents Adelaide and Gabe Wilson (Black Panther alumni Lupita Nyong’o and Winston Duke) take their children, Zora (Shahadi Wright Joseph) and Jason (Evan Alex), to Santa Cruz on vacation, only to step into a nightmare as a night-time visitation by a family of murderous doppelgangers signals the start of a terrifying supernatural revolution with potential nationwide consequences.  The idea at the heart of this film is ASTOUNDINGLY original, quite an achievement in a genre where just about everything has been tried at least once, but it’s also DEEPLY subversive, as challenging and thought-provoking as the themes visited in Get Out, but also potentially even more wide-reaching. It’s also THOROUGHLY fascinating and absolutely TERRIFYING, a peerless exercise in slow-burn tension and acid-drip discomfort, liberally soaked in an oppressive atmosphere so thick you could choke on it if you’re not careful, such a perfect horror master-class it’s amazing that this is only Peele’s second FEATURE, never mind his sophomore offering IN THE GENRE.  The incredibly game cast really help, too – the four leads are all EXCEPTIONAL, each delivering fascinatingly nuanced performances in startlingly oppositional dual roles as both the besieged family AND their monstrous doubles, a feat brilliantly mimicked by Mad Men and The Handmaid’s Tale-star Elisabeth Moss, Tim Heidecker and teen twins Cali and Noelle Sheldon as the Wilsons’ friends, the Tylers, and their similarly psychotic mimics.  The film is DOMINATED, however, by Oscar-troubler Nyong’o, effortlessly holding our attention throughout the film with yet another raw, intense, masterful turn that keeps up glued to the screen from start to finish, even as the twists get weirder and more full-on brain-mashy.  Of course, while this really is scary as hell, it’s also often HILARIOUSLY funny, Peele again poking HUGE fun at both his intended audience AND his allegorical targets, proving that scares often work best when twinned with humour.  BY FAR the best thing in horror in 2019, Us shows just what a master of the genre Jordan Peele is, and it looks like he’s here to stay …

5.  KNIVES OUT – with The Last Jedi, writer-director Rian Johnson divided audiences so completely that he seemed to have come perilously close to ruining his career.  Thankfully, he’s a thick-skinned auteur with an almost ridiculous amount of talent, and he’s come bouncing back as strong as ever, doing what he does best. His big break feature debut was with Brick, a cult classic murder mystery that was, surprisingly, set in and around a high school, and his latest has some of that same DNA as Johnson crafts a fantastic sleuthy whodunit cast in the classic mould of Agatha Christie, albeit shot through with his own wonderfully eclectic verve, wit and slyly subversive streak.  Daniel Craig holds court magnificently as quirky and flamboyant Deep South private detective Benoit Blanc, summoned to the home of newly-deceased star crime author Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer) to investigate his possible murder and faced with a veritable web of lies, deceit and twisting knives as he meets the maybe-victim’s extensive and INCREDIBLY dysfunctional family, all of whom are potential suspects.  Craig is thoroughly mesmerising throughout, clearly having the time of his life in one of his career-best roles, while the narrative focus is actually, interestingly, given largely to Ana de Armas (Blade Runner 2049 and soon to be seen with Craig again in the latest Bond-flick No Time To Die), who proves equally adept at driving the film as Harlan’s sweet but steely and impressively resourceful nurse Marta Cabrera, whose own involvement in the case it would do the film a massive disservice to reveal. The rest of the Thrombey clan are an equally intriguing bunch, all played to the hilt by an amazing selection of heavyweight talent that includes Jamie Lee Curtis, Michael Shannon, Toni Collette and It’s Jaeden Martell, but the film is, undeniably, DOMINATED by Chris Evans as Harlan’s black sheep grandson Ransom, the now former Captain America clearly enjoying his first major post-MCU role as he roundly steals every scene he’s in, effortlessly bringing back the kind of snarky, sarcastic underhanded arrogance we haven’t seen him play since his early career and entertaining us thoroughly.  Johnson has very nearly outdone himself this time, weaving a gleefully twisty web of intrigue that viewers will take great pleasure in watching Blanc untangle, even if we’re actually already privy to (most of) the truth of the deed, and he pulls off some diabolical twists and turns as we rattle towards an inspired final reveal which genuinely surprises. He’s also generously smothered the film with oodles of his characteristically dry, acerbic wit, wonderfully tweaking many of the classic tropes of this familiar little sub-genre so this is at once a loving homage to the classics but also a sly, skilful deconstruction.  Intriguing, compelling, enrapturing and often thoroughly hilarious, this is VERY NEARLY the best film he’s ever made.  Only the mighty Looper remains unbeaten …

4.  CAPTAIN MARVEL – before the first real main event of not only the year’s blockbusters but also, more importantly, 2019’s big screen MCU roster, Marvel Studios president Kevin Feige and co dropped a powerful opening salvo with what, it turns out, was the TRUE inception point of the Avengers Initiative and all its accompanying baggage (not Captain America: the First Avenger, as we were originally led to believe).  For me, this is simply the MCU film I have MOST been looking forward to essentially since the beginning – the onscreen introduction of my favourite Avenger, former US Air Force Captain Carol Danvers, the TRUE Captain Marvel (no matter what the DC purists might say), who was hinted at in the post credits sting of Avengers: Infinity War but never actually seen.  Not only is she the most powerful Avenger (sorry Thor, but it’s true), but for me she’s also the most badass – she’s an unstoppable force of (cosmically enhanced) nature, with near GODLIKE powers (she can even fly through space without needing a suit!), but the thing that REALLY makes her so full-on EPIC is her sheer, unbreakable WILL, the fact that no matter what’s thrown at her, no matter how often or how hard she gets knocked down, she KEEPS GETTING BACK UP.  She is, without a doubt, the MOST AWESOME woman in the entire Marvel Universe, both on the comic page AND up on the big screen. Needless to say, such a special character needs an equally special actor to portray her, and we’re thoroughly blessed in the inspired casting choice of Brie Larson, who might as well have been purpose-engineered exclusively for this very role – she’s Carol Danvers stepped right out of the primary-coloured panels, as steely cool, unswervingly determined and strikingly statuesque as she’s always been drawn and scripted, with just the right amount of twinkle-eyed, knowing smirk and sassy humour to complete the package.  Needless to say she’s the heart and soul of the film, a pure joy to watch throughout, but there’s so much more to enjoy here that this is VERY NEARLY the most enjoyable cinematic experience I had all year … writer-director double-act Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck may only be known for smart, humble indies like Half Nelson and Mississippi Grind, but they’ve taken to the big budget, all-action blockbuster game like ducks to water, co-scripting with Geneva Robertson-Dworet (writer of the Tomb Raider reboot movie and the long-gestating third Sherlock Holmes movie) to craft yet another pitch-perfect MCU origin story, playing a sneakily multilayered, misleading game of perception-versus-truth as we’re told how Carol got her powers and became the unstoppable badass supposedly destined to turn the tide in a certain Endgame … slyly rolling the clock back to the mid-90s, we’re presented with a skilfully realised mid-90s period culture clash adventure as Carol, a super-powered warrior fighting for the Kree Empire against the encroaching threat of the shape-shifting Skrulls, crash-lands in California and winds up uncovering the hidden truth behind her origins, with the help of a particular SHIELD agent, before he wound up with an eye-patch and a more cynical point-of-view – yup, it’s a younger, fresher Nick Fury (the incomparable Samuel L. Jackson, digitally de-aged with such skill it’s really just a pure, flesh-and-blood performance). There’s action, thrills, spectacle and (as always with the MCU) pure, skilfully observed, wry humour by the bucket-load, but one of the biggest strengths of the film is the perfectly natural chemistry between the two leads, Larson and Jackson playing off each other BEAUTIFULLY, no hint of romantic tension, just a playfully prickly, banter-rich odd couple vibe that belies a deep, honest respect building between both the characters and, clearly, the actors themselves.  There’s also sterling support from Jude Law as Kree warrior Yon-Rogg, Carol’s commander and mentor, Ben Mendelsohn, slick, sly and surprisingly seductive (despite a whole lot of make-up) as Skrull leader Talos, returning MCU-faces Clark Gregg and Lee Pace as rookie SHIELD agent Phil Coulson (another wildly successful de-aging job) and Kree Accuser Ronan, Annette Bening as a mysterious face from Carol’s past and, in particular, Lashana Lynch (Still Star-Crossed, soon to be seen in No Time To Die) as Carol’s one-time best friend and fellow Air Force pilot Maria Rambeau, along with the impossibly adorable Akira Akbar as her precocious daughter Monica … that said, the film is frequently stolen by a quartet of ginger tabbies who perfectly capture fan-favourite Goose the “cat” (better known to comics fans as Chewie).  This is about as great as the MCU standalone films get – for me it’s up there with the Russo’s Captain America films and Black Panther, perfectly pitched and SO MUCH FUN, but with a multilayered, monofilament-sharp intelligence that makes it a more cerebrally satisfying ride than most blockbusters, throwing us a slew of skilfully choreographed twists and narrative curveballs we almost never see coming, and finishing it off with a bucket-load of swaggering style and pure, raw emotional power (the film kicks right off with an incredibly touching, heartfelt tear-jerking tribute to Marvel master Stan Lee).  Forget Steve Rogers – THIS is the Captain MCU fans need AND deserve, and I am SO CHUFFED they got my favourite Avenger so totally, perfectly RIGHT.  I can die happy now, I guess …

3.  JOHN WICK CHAPTER 3 – needless to say, those who know me should be in no doubt why THIS was at the top of my list for summer 2019 – this has EVERYTHING I love in movies and more. Keanu Reeves is back in the very best role he’s ever played, unstoppable, unbeatable, un-killable hitman John Wick, who, when we rejoin him mere moments after the end of 2017’s phenomenal Chapter 2, is in some SERIOUSLY deep shit, having been declared Incommunicado by the High Table (the all-powerful ruling elite who run this dark and deadly shadowy underworld) after circumstances forced him to gun down an enemy on the grounds of the New York Continental Hotel (the inviolable sanctuary safe-house for all denizens of the underworld), as his last remaining moments of peace tick away and he desperately tries to find somewhere safe to weather the initial storm.  Needless to say the opening act of the film is ONE LONG ACTION SEQUENCE as John careers through the rain-slick streets of New York, fighting off attackers left and right with his signature brutal efficiency and unerring skill, perfectly setting up what’s to come – namely a head-spinning, exhausting parade of spectacular set pieces that each put EVERY OTHER offering in every other film this past year to shame.  Returning director Chad Stahelski again proves that he’s one of the very best helmsmen around for this kind of stuff, delivering FAR beyond the call on every count as he creates a third entry to a series that continues to go from strength to strength, while Keanu once again demonstrates what a phenomenal screen action GOD he is, gliding through each scenario with poise, precision and just the right balance of brooding charm and so-very-done-with-this-shit intensity and a thoroughly enviable athletic physicality that really does put him on the same genre footing as Tom Cruise.  As with the first two chapters, what plot there is is largely an afterthought, a facility to fuel the endless wave of stylish, wince-inducing, thoroughly exhilarating violent bloodshed, as John cuts another bloody swathe through the underworld searching for a way to remove the lethal bounty from his head while an Adjudicator from the High Table (Orange Is the New Black’s Asia Kate Dillon) arrives in New York to settle affairs with Winston (Ian McShane), the manager of the New York Continental, and the Bowery King (Laurence Fishburne) for helping John create this mess in the first place.  McShane and Fishburne are both HUGE entertainment in their fantastically nuanced large-than-life roles, effortlessly stealing each of their scenes, while the ever-brilliant Lance Reddick also makes a welcome return as Winston’s faithful right-hand Charon, the concierge of the Continental, who finally gets to show off his own hardcore action chops when trouble arrives at their doorstep, and there are plenty of franchise newcomers who make strong impressions here – Dillon is the epitome of icy imperiousness, perfectly capturing the haughty superiority you’d expect from a direct representative of the High Table, Halle Berry gets a frustratingly rare opportunity to show just how seriously badass she can be as former assassin Sofia, the manager of the Casablanca branch of the Continental and one of John’s only remaining allies, Game of Thrones’ Jerome Flynn is smarmy and entitled as her boss Berrada, and Anjelica Houston is typically classy as the Director, the ruthless head of New York’s Ruska Roma (John’s former “alma mater”, basically).  The one that REALLY sticks in the memory, though, is Mark Dacascos, finally returning to the big time after frustrating years languishing in lurid straight-to-video action dreck and lowbrow TV hosting duties thanks to a BLISTERING turn as Zero, a truly brilliant semi-comic creation who routinely runs away with the film – he’s the Japanese master ninja the Adjudicator tasks with dispensing her will, a thoroughly lethal killer who may well be as skilled as our hero, but his deadliness is amusingly tempered by the fact that he’s also a total nerd who HERO WORSHIPS John Wick, adorably geeking out whenever their paths cross.  Their long-gestating showdown provides a suitably magnificent climax to the action, but there’s plenty to enjoy in the meantime, as former stuntman Stahelski and co keep things interestingly fluid as they constantly change up the dynamics and add new elements, from John using kicking horses in a stable and knives torn out of display cases in a weaponry museum to dispatch foes on the fly, through Sofia’s use of attack dogs to make the Moroccan portion particularly nasty and a SPECTACULAR high octane sequence in which John fights katana-wielding assailants on speeding motorcycles, to the film’s UNDISPUTABLE highlight, an astounding fight in which John takes on Zero’s disciples (including two of the most impressive guys from The Raid movies, Cecep Arif Rahman and Yayan Ruhian) in (and through) an expansive chamber made up entirely of glass walls and floors.  Altogether then, this is business as usual for a franchise that’s consistently set the bar for the genre as a whole, an intensely bruising, blissfully blood-drenched epic that cranks its action up to eleven, shot with delicious neon-drenched flair and glossy graphic novel visual excess, a consistently inspired exercise in fascinating world-building that genuinely makes you want to live among its deadly denizens (even though you probably wouldn’t live very long).  The denouement sets things up for an inevitable sequel, and I’m not at all surprised – right from the first film I knew the concept had legs, and it’s just too good to quit yet.  Which is just how I like it …

2.  AVENGERS: ENDGAME – the stars have aligned and everything is right with the world – the second half of the ridiculously vast, epic, nerve-shredding and gut-punching MCU saga that began with 2018’s Avengers: Infinity War has FINALLY arrived and it’s JUST AS GOOD as its predecessor … maybe even a little bit better, simply by virtue of the fact that (just about) all the soul-crushing loss and upheaval of the first film is resolved here.  Opening shortly after the universally cataclysmic repercussions of “the Snap”, the world at large and the surviving Avengers in particular are VERY MUCH on the back foot as they desperately search for a means to reverse the damage wrought by brutally single-minded cosmic megalomaniac Thanos and his Infinity Stone-powered gauntlet – revealing much more dumps so many spoilers it’s criminal to continue, so I’ll simply say that their immediate plan really DOESN’T work out, leaving them worse off than ever.  Fast-forward five years and the universe is a very different place, mourning what it’s lost and torn apart by grief-fuelled outbursts, while our heroes in particular are in various, sometimes better, but often much worse places – Bruce Banner/the Hulk (Mark Ruffallo) has found a kind of peace that’s always eluded him before, but Thor (Chris Hemsworth) really is a MESS, while Clint Barton/Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) has gone to a VERY dark place indeed. Then Ant-Man Scott Lang (Paul Rudd) finds a way back from his forced sojourn in the Quantum Realm, and brings with him a potential solution of a very temporal nature … star directors the Russo Brothers, along with returning screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, have once again crafted a stunning cinematic masterpiece, taking what could have been a bloated, overloaded and simply RIDICULOUS narrative mess and weaving it into a compelling, rich and thoroughly rewarding ride that, despite its THREE HOURS PLUS RUNNING TIME, stays fresh and interesting from start to finish, building on the solid foundations of Infinity War while also forging new ground (narratively speaking, at least) incorporating a wonderfully fresh take on time-travel that pokes gleeful fun at the decidedly clichéd tropes inherent in this particular little sub-genre.  In fact this is frequently a simply HILARIOUS film in its own right, largely pulling away from the darker tone of its predecessor by injecting a very strong vein of chaotic humour into proceedings, perfectly tempering the more dramatic turns and epic feels that inevitably crop up, particularly as the stakes continue to rise.  Needless to say the entire cast get to shine throughout, particularly those veterans whose own tours of duty in the franchise are coming to a close, and as with Infinity War even the minor characters get at least a few choice moments in the spotlight, especially in the vast, operatic climax where pretty much the ENTIRE MCU cast return for the inevitable final showdown.  It’s a masterful affair, handled with skill and deep, earnest respect but also enough irreverence to keep it fun, although in the end it really comes down to those big, fat, heart-crushing emotional FEELS, as we say goodbye to some favourites and see others reach crossroads in their own arcs that send them off in new, interesting directions.  Seriously guys, keep a lot of tissues handy, you really will need them.  If this were the very last MCU film ever, I’d say it’s a PERFECT piece to go out on – thankfully it’s not, and while it is the end of an era the franchise looks set to go on as strong as ever, safe in the knowledge that there’s plenty more cracking movies on the way so long as Kevin Feige and co continue to employ top-notch talent like this to make their films. Eleven years and twenty-two films down, then – here’s to eleven and twenty-two more, I say …

1.  THE IRISHMAN (aka I HEARD YOU PAINT HOUSES) – beating smash-hit superhero movies and unstoppable assassin action-fests to the top spot is no mean feat, but so completely blowing me away that I had NO OTHER CHOICE than to put this at NUMBER ONE is something else entirely.  Not only is this the best thing I saw at the cinema this past year, but I’d be happy to say it’s guaranteed to go down as one of my all-time greats of the entire decade. I’ve been an ardent fan of the filmmaking of Martin Scorsese ever since I first properly got into cinema in my early adolescence, when I was first shown Taxi Driver and was completely and irrevocably changed forever as a movie junkie.  He’s a director who impresses me like a select few others, one of the true, undisputable masters of the craft, and I find it incredibly pleasing that I’m not alone in this assertion.  Goodfellas and The Departed are both numbered among my all-time favourite crime movies, while I regard the latter as one of the greatest films of the current cinematic century.  I’ve learned more about the art and craft of filmmaking and big-screen storytelling from watching Scorsese’s work than from any other director out there (with the notable exception of my OTHER filmmaking hero, Ridley Scott), and I continue to discover more about his films every time I watch them, so I never stop.  Anyways … enough with the gushing, time to get on with talking about his latest offering, a Netflix Original true-life gangster thriller of truly epic proportions chronicling the career and times of Frank Sheeran, a Philadelphia truck driver who became the most trusted assassin of the Northeastern Pennsylvania crime family and, in particular, its boss (and Sheeran’s best friend) Russell Bufalino, particularly focusing on his rise to power within the Philly Mob and his significant association with controversial and ultimately ill-fated Teamster boss Jimmy Hoffa.  It’s a sprawling epic in the tradition of Scorsese’s previously most expansive film, Casino, but in terms of scope this easily eclipses the 1995 classic, taking in SIX DECADES of genuinely world-changing events largely seen through Sheeran’s eyes, but as always the director is in total control throughout, never losing sight of the true focus – one man’s fall from grace as he loses his soul to the terrible events he takes part in.  Then again, the screenplay is by Steve Zaillian (Schindler’s List, Moneyball, Fincher’s The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo), one of the true masters of the art form, with whom Scorsese previously worked with on Gangs of New York, so it’s pure gold – tight as a drum, razor sharp and impossibly rich and rewarding, the perfect vehicle for the director to just prep his cast and run with it.  And WHAT A CAST we have here – this is a three-way lead master-class of titanic proportions, as Scorsese-regular Robert De Niro and his Goodfellas co-star Joe Pesci are finally reteamed as, respectively, Sheeran and Bufalino, while Al Pacino gets to work with the master for the first time as Hoffa; all three are INCREDIBLE, EXTRAORDINARY, on absolute tip-top form as they bring everything they have to their roles, De Niro and Pesci underplaying magnificently while Pacino just lets rip with his full, thunderous fury in a seemingly larger-than-life turn which simply does one of history’s biggest crooks perfect justice; the supporting cast, meanwhile, is one of the strongest seen in cinema all year, with Ray Romano, Bobby Canavale, Anna Paquin, Stephen Graham, Harvey Keitel, Stephanie Kurtzuba (The Wolf of Wall Street), Jack Huston (Boardwalk Empire) and Jesse Plemmons among MANY others all making MAJOR impressions throughout, all holding their own even when up against the combined star power of the headlining trio.  This is filmmaking as high art, Scorsese bringing every trick at his considerable, monumentally experienced disposal to bear to craft a crime thriller that strongly compares not only to the director’s own best but many of the genre’s own other masterpieces such as The Godfather and Chinatown.  It may clock in at a potentially insane THREE HOURS AND TWENTY-NINE MINUTES but it NEVER feels overlong, every moment crafted for maximum impact with a story that unfolds so busily and with such mesmerising power it’s impossible to get bored with it.  The film may have received a limited theatrical release, obviously reaching MOST of its audience when unleashed on Netflix nearly a month later, but I was one of the lucky few who got to see it on the big screen, and BELIEVE ME, it was totally worth it.  Best thing I saw in 2019, ONE OF the best things I saw this past decade, and DEFINITELY one of Scorsese’s best films EVER.  See it, any way you can.  You won’t be disappointed.

[yes-hello-dbh]

Gradually

A Connor x Reader fic.

No talk. Just read. And enjoy.

-

Connor felt indifferent towards you.

After his first impression with Hank he hadn’t been particularly enthused about being assigned another partner. He was more than capable of adapting to human unpredictability that much was certain, but the idea of having another cynical, ill-tempered, emotionally unstable human to work with would make his life far more difficult than it had to be.

Meeting you had been a breath of fresh air, as humans say.

You were nothing like Hank. Where he had been defiant and hostile, you had been civil and accepting. You showed no bias. You acted professionally. Most surprisingly, you spoke to him openly and displayed a genuine interest in his help.

Relieved and, admittedly, a bit stunned he’d asked if it bothered you that he was an android.

“Human or android, a crime is a crime. What’s the difference?”

Above all the other pleasant surprises he’d discovered about you, he found himself satisfied most with your answer.

-

Connor felt intrigued by you.

Humans had such peculiar ways of life- the habits that they displayed, the routines they upkept. All of them were so carefully executed yet brought, to his knowledge, no real meaning to their day to day lives.

Being Cyberlife’s most effective model meant that he was instilled with the notion that everything had a purpose. Every step. Every calculation. Every analysis. Each was executed with the intent to complete a comprehensive task dedicated to his primary objective. Even his seemingly human habit of coin tossing came with the purpose of calibrating his systems. 

To him, it seemed so frivolous to complete a task that contributed nothing to their own current objectives.

Humans displayed such strange behavior, repetitively, he noted. 

You were no exception.

The way that you blew on your coffee exactly three times despite knowing that it would do nothing to cool it down.

The way you would walk away from a frustrating case file and immediately come back to it after a mere 6.62 second average, no new insight found.

The way you brought your headphones to every crime scene despite never once listening to music outside of the office.

Why do it? Why waste time doing such meaningless acts of repetition when it could be spent on completing something truly relevant in the field?

It eluded him. You eluded him.

…

Yet he couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

-

Connor felt conflicted by you.

From the moment he was activated there had been only one thing on his mind. The mission.

Biocomponents. Model numbers. Case files. Every minute of every day was filled with nothing but information on the deviants he was assigned to neutralize. As Cyberlife’s last hope to end the uprising before it began, Connor pursued his mission with a searing drive. He completed every task efficiently, almost religiously, and without fail. It was his sole purpose, his only reason for existence. In a way the mission was his lifeline. Without it there was no him.

And then there was you.

An excellent partner and an even better detective, Connor had been continuously impressed by your work ethic. You were just as determined as him, if not more, and you’d proven time and time again that having an android around wasn’t going to stop you from doing whatever it took to solve a case. He would have accomplished his mission even without the DPD’s help, but with every new case, he found that working alongside you had made his mission even more probable of success.

That was his initial thought, at least.

The mission was of utmost importance, his top priority, yet the words of such overwhelming kindness and sincerity spoken from you.

The way you smiled at him as if he were human…alive.

Suddenly there were two things that occupied his mind. As his time with you progressed, he refused to admit which one he began to favor more.

-

Connor was distressed by you.

He had never felt fear for his own well-being. He was a soldier. A machine. He was expendable and could be easily replaced with the snap of a finger. Being in such a dangerous field this artificial immortality of his proved to be useful.

He’d never been concerned with his safety.

Yours, however, he concerned with all too much.

Humans were so fragile, so very fragile, and he never realized the terrifying truth of this until he met you.

“It’s a flesh wound, Connor. I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Not really. Statistically speaking, a bullet to the shoulder roughly had an 84% survival rate in normal circumstances. Received in a high-risk field such as law enforcement then that percentage dropped to 79%. The rate was still fairly high, albeit undesirable. Connor knew this. The minute he saw the android fire the gun his brain had already computed the outcome and chance of your survival.

But the splatter of crimson as you crumpled to the floor, your pained scream echoing in his ears…

In that brief moment, he forgot the statistics.

He didn’t care what Amanda thought. He didn’t care that he needed the android alive. He didn’t care that he very well lost one of his only chances to get information on Jericho. All he cared about was that it hurt you.

His only thought before pulling the trigger was that he wouldn’t have hesitated even if it were human.

-

Connor felt exhausted by you.

Androids couldn’t experience physical fatigue. They had no brains to overwork or muscles to wear out, no need for food or water or sleep. Their bodies were meant to last for decades at maximum efficiency. They were the perfect machines, and naturally, they could never feel tired.

Connor soon realized that this statement was completely false.

In the six agonizing hours that he’d spent waiting for your surgery to be over he’d become painstakingly aware of how tired androids could get. It was like his body had become lead, a ridiculous statement considering he was primarily made of plastic. No matter how many statistics he went through to keep himself focused- the total pints of blood contained in a hospital, the different types of emergency surgery and their subcategories, the aftereffects of anesthesia- he found himself feeling more and more exhausted as the hours ticked by.

4 hours, 27 minutes, and 14 seconds. That was how long your surgery took. When he saw the doctor walk through the hospital doors he can say with absolute certainty that it was the most adrenaline-induced experience he’d felt since activation.

He’d held your hand as you slept. 98.4 degrees Fahrenheit. Heart rate 72 beats per minute. Vitals. Your vitals.

The exhaustion of waiting was nothing compared to the crushing relief that washed over him seeing you alive.

-

Connor felt invigorated by you.

Deviation was…a conflicting process. Granted, he wasn’t even fully aware he had deviated before leaving to infiltrate Jericho, however the final decision during his confrontation with Markus had not been surprising, much to his- well, surprise. But deep down he always knew that no abundance of statistics could cloud the memories of you that now flooded his mind. Your laugh. Your smile. Your loving words.

Where he once focused all of his being on accomplishing the mission he now found himself directing towards fighting for you, living for you, and it gave him a new sense of purpose that brought a completeness he had never felt before. It felt foreign, yet so right, as if his entire being was meant to intertwine with yours. As if nothing else mattered but you.

It frightened him almost as much as it inspired him.

It was this invigoration that helped him realize that infiltrating Cyberlife was the only way to truly remain by your side.

“Come back to me.” 

Even if it meant dying for you.

But he refused to let it come to that.

-

Connor felt saddened by you.

As Hank pointed the gun at his head, the imposter only inches away from himself, he couldn’t help the pang in his chest as he lamented over the words he never got to say to you.

-

Connor felt elated by you.

They had won.

They were free.

Amidst the cheering and tearful embraces from his people, nothing made him happier on that day than the feeling of your lips on his when he returned to the hospital. There was so much he had yet to understand. So much he had yet to experience. He was ecstatic. Relieved. Conflicted. Fearful. So many emotions that he couldn’t possibly begin to process in that moment.

But perhaps for the first time amidst these conflicting feelings, holding you in his firm embrace, he understood what it meant to be alive.

-

Connor felt many things by you, but above all else…

“I do.”

He felt loved by you.

-

AN: You know, sometimes you’re supposed to be working on an English paper and sometimes you end up finishing a six month old 1.4k fic...*wheeze*

Also hi there. Introducing fake statistics by @yes-hello-dbh . Don’t tell anyone.

But in all seriousness, I dropped this wip back in like September(?) and completely forgot about it for a while. Glad I went digging through my old works and decided to finish it. It’s a little rushed, and I know the dbh fandom is practically dead at this point, but it never hurts to introduce new content. Hope you enjoyed!

(lowkey for @the-darklings as she focuses on other fandom works. take some dbh content love. You’re doing great <3)

[creatorofclay]

Special verses / AUs

Non canon verses that are by special request only

Normal verses here

LET EVERY MAN BE MASTER OF HIS TIME // GOD AU

-As the god who was credited with creating the human race, Elijah spends much of his time among his creations, watching them, seeing how they live. He almost never intervenes in their lives unless there is some special circumstance. But, he is fascinated by humans and thinks coffee is the greatest thing they have ever accomplished.

ALWAYS HUNGRY; NEVER SATISFIED // DEMON!CONNOR VERS.

The verse where everything is the same, except in his youth, Elijah made a deal with a demon of greed and is now stuck with him forever. That demon is Connor (@rob0badge).

LIFE'S ONLY OBLIGATION AFTER ALL WAS TO BE INTERESTING // KILLER!ELIJAH

(origin post here) Elijah built his android empire on his own sweat and the blood of others. To further his research into humans for his androids, he resorted to torturing and murdering to learn just how they function. All secret, no one ever knows about his big secret and he even wipes his androids memories periodically to keep any evidence from getting out. The Chloes, as a result, are not deviant.

MORALITY DOESN’T EXIST. ONLY MORALE // ALT KILLER (Intertwined with @creation-is-chaos and @rxseguided)  Elijah’s dark desires and dark interests intertwined with a man he met during his college days, one Corvus DeVille. They became inseparable after that, even to the present day when they share a love of violence, blood, and one spunky detective, Jesse Stern. I’LL SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WAR // ALT KILLER 2 (exclusive with @creation-is-chaos) Elijah and Corvus, once dearest friends, are now enemies on either side of a continuous war waging in the underground of Detroit. One single incident put them on opposing sides and now they stand fighting each other until one of them falls. 

YOU ARE THE NIGHT AND THE NIGHT ALONE UNDERSTANDS YOU // VAMPIRE AU

( Original post here ) Young vampire on the quest for knowledge, willing to sell information for the right price. He creates machines to prove he could do better than the geniuses before him, while also working in creating life in his own way.

Alternate vampire verse 1: OUTCAST IN THE COURT // SUPERNATURAL AU EVENT Originally used for the group event, Elijah spends his time working for both the vampire king and the werewolf king to spy on each other and try and give the other an edge up in their war against each other. He lives with a little witch he befriended whos apartment serves as his escape from the war. Alternate vampire verse 2: GIVE ME MY ROBE PUT ON MY CROWN; I HAVE IMMORTAL LONGINGS IN ME // ALT VAMP Approached late in the night by a supposed Vampire King(@ruthlessnessisyourdesire), Elijah is offered the chance to live on, watch over and improve his androids, while serving the very same king who came to him. Being a vampire seemed like a good deal, plus being sired under the king was too good to pass up. 

I CAN’T EXPRESSO HOW MUCH YOU BEAN TO ME // CAFE AU

(Private verse for @fearlessandchaotic) Elijah Kamski is a young adult working at a niche hipster cafe to keep himself above water while researching to build his machines. Working part-time, just enough money for food, he gets along well with the owner. But, one evening he meets a young woman who seems to take an interest in his machines and he can’t help falling for her.

STANDIN ON THE EDGE FACE UP CAUSE YOU'RE A NATURAL // SINGER!ELIJAH

(original post info) With a talent for sound and singing and a natural intuition to perform, Elijah takes the stage nearly every night in small venues to perform. His old company, CyberLife, took his idea for the perfect voice synthesizer and sold it to the world, taking advantage of what it can do when all the young genius wanted to do was raise people's self esteem. Voice claim - Andy Black

Crossover AUs

FATE IT SEEMS IS NOT WITHOUT A SENSE OF IRONY // WATCH DOGS AU

(Original post here) Ex-CEO of Tidis Corporation, Elijah Kamski had stepped down from the position and moved to Chicago to look after the branch there instead, though he didn’t deal as much with the business he continued to tinker with the machines to make them even more than what they were, what they could be. He created more human like androids that would be more efficient than the current security robots the company used. After the CTO of Blume was arrested, they contacted Kamski to make a contract between him, Tidis, Haum, and many other corporations that had been affected [by the events of WD2]. Kamski had a plan to use his androids and the CtOS to do even more than Dusan had ever imagined, more in control than before. 

WHEN DOES A PERSONALITY SIMULATION BECOME THE BITTER MOTE OF A SOUL? // I ROBOT AU

During the late 2010′s, into the 2020′s, Elijah Kamski worked directly under Alfred Lanning, building robots and helping to make the Nesterclass robots the best they could be. He always believed there was a way to make them better, more easily integrated into society, and a part of him looked forward to the NS-5s, believing the design was closer to what it could be. But, he didn���t fully agree with the way things were run, the way it was handled, and especially when Lawrence Robertson started to take the company into a different direction, he knew he had to go. He left to create his androids his own way and founded CyberLife in Detroit. It was a struggle to start up, as it was a direct rival to US Robotics. People called him brave to go against such a massive company, but he knew his machines were superior. And, when the incident in Chicago took place in 2035, he knew it was his time. He was right, his machines were better bound to the three laws, and he was going to prove it. 

FEW SONS ARE LIKE THEIR FATHERS // STAR WARS AU

(Background post Here) Out in the Mid Rim of The Galaxy is Carsius, a small planet completely uninhabited by organic lifeforms. It is a planet largely operated and populated by droids of every make and model, run and ruled by Elijah Kamski, the most well known droid maker through the Core Planets. No one is allowed to live on or visit the planet without strict permission from the man himself. He continues to work on commission, creating droids for wheoever has the credits, as well as collecting and trading interesting trinkets, antiques, rare materials, and information. If its interesting to him, he will trade for it. Neutral territory, located just far enough off the main trade route. 

[welcome-to-jericho]

Not Human. (Reed900!) - Part 2

Here’s a link to part one if you haven’t read it yet, or if you want to re-read it first. I was told that it’s a good idea. 

________

“Ni-” He was silenced by a bang.

In the end, RK900 wasn’t sure what hit the ground first. Was it the body of one Detective Gavin Reed, or was it the last of the crumbling remnants of its wall, the wall that had struggled to stay standing since the very beginning? It hadn’t intended to break free. That was NOT the point of this. No matter how advanced RK900 was, no matter how many pre-constructions it ran, this outcome was not expected, in the slightest. 

Machines don’t feel. 

Eliminate all obstacles. 

It’s the only way.

RK900 told itself these things religiously for the past five months, increasingly so as of late. It believed these things. It was nonsensical to think any different. 

Inside its own head, it was on its knees, clutching onto the dusty pile where the wall once stood, its disappearing particles slipping through his fingers. His fingers. Its LED was spinning wildly, the deep red suddenly meaning so much more. No. It squeezed the last bit of hope between two hands, as if shielding it from its inevitable end. And then, it was gone. 

He was on his knees in real time now. No more hiding in his head. He unwillingly let out a sound from deep inside him, not having the willpower to hold it in anymore. A choked out cry, a scream of pain, of emotional pain, and artificial tears that didn’t seem so artificial anymore. RK900′s sensors were being overloaded with sensations he couldn’t describe. Things that he had never felt before. If machines didn’t feel, what was he? 

His knees. His head. His hands on his detective, unsure, for once, of what to do. Gavin wasn’t dead. Not yet, because RK900 had missed his mark. His arm was shaking, then, when he had the gun pointed at Gavin’s head. Though, it was less like shaking and more like spasming, still one second, then jerking three inches downwards the next. Unlikely timing. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Gavin, just eliminate the obstacle. But alas, Gavin Reed wouldn’t go down without a fight. RK900 was grasping desperately at the wound in the center of the detective’s chest, feeling the blood slowly seep through his fingers, and Gavin’s life with it. He watched as tears steadily dripped from the end of his nose, getting lost in the blood that now pooled all around him. He couldn’t stop them from falling.

“I’m fine, Nines. Only a flesh wound, hey?” 

RK900 wished Gavin would look at him like that again, wished he would say those words like that again, wished he would survive like that again. He remembered that night, it was less than a month ago. Gavin had said it wasn’t his first time being shot. 

“You don’t become immune to getting shot,” RK900 had replied to that. Now, though, he wished he was wrong. He wished and he wished and he wished. Another strangled sob escaped his lips as he thought back to the events that followed. He remembered the first Software Instability increase of that night, when Gavin hissed in pain. He remembers cleaning the wound, and stitching it, and even wrapping a bandage around it. Gavin Reed hates hospitals. He remembers prodding Gavin’s ribs, making sure nothing was broken. He remembers when light prodding became gentle caressing. He remembers the incessant pinging of “Software Instability^.” He remembers when his wants became needs, when he forgot all things mission related and just let himself be. Worst of all, he remembers how he shoved Gavin away abruptly when he realized that he had begun to break through the wall without thinking. He wished he hadn’t done that. It was the best night of his life, and it was ruined by rules that he was under no obligation to follow. He should’ve known that rules aren’t bendable, only breakable. 

Why couldn’t he let himself be free?

RK900 was pulled back to reality when he felt a pressure on his arm. His frantic movements were halted to a stop when he saw the look on Gavin Reed’s face. His perfect face, ruined by pain, real physical pain, that RK900 had caused him. The detective was clinging to RK900′s jacket, his hooded eyes brimming with tears. RK900 knew he looked a mess, with his own tears flowing down his face, the first time he’d ever felt this way. When they locked eyes, Gavin smiled. He smiled the smile that no one ever saw, no one except RK900. It was so human, that smile. He could never pull it off. He wasn’t human. but maybe being something akin to human wasn’t such a bad thing, after all. 

RK900 was back in his head again, re-watching what could be called “key moments” from his time with Gavin Reed. Sarcastic smirks and dirty looks, which slowly turned into secret smiles and soft words. Not too soft, not in front of people. Detective Reed had a reputation to uphold. Detective Reed and Gavin Reed were two very different people, from RK900′s perspective. At the police station, he was rude, spitting insults at the android, keeping his image intact. RK900 knew better. He knew that the minute they crossed the threshold of Gavin’s, of his and Gavin’s, house, everything would be tender touches and whispered words and soft sheets under softer skin and-

“I love you”

It was both a memory and reality. Gavin had said it once before, a late night after a long shift when he was half asleep and soft. So soft. RK900 was sure he didn’t mean to say it, then. Now was different. Now, Gavin’s words were rushed, pushed out through gritted teeth, spoken around a mouthful of blood. He vaguely felt Gavin’s weak fingers brush his face. The touch sent shocks through his body. His hands held onto the man under him tightly, as his soft smile became weaker. A sharp intake, one last watery-eyed look, before eyes slipped closed and ragged breathing stopped.

RK900 shook, his body racked with violent sobs. How could he have thought that this would make things better? In what world did it make sense to get rid of the one thing that made him happy? Why? Because happy was a human emotion, and RK900 wasn’t human? He wasn’t an ‘it’ anymore. RK900 was not a machine. 

As he held on to the lifeless body of Gavin Reed, he finally learned what it was like to feel. He felt pain. He felt sad, and angry, and so fucking guilty. He had only wanted to remain what he was made to be. He didn’t want to break free of his protocols, because he had seen what feeling had done to Connor. He didn’t want that part of deviancy. He thought he could keep the wall intact while still being... whatever it was, with Gavin. He was wrong. He thought that if he eliminated the cause of his ever-growing signs of deviancy, then he would be able to avoid being sucked in. He was wrong. He was wrong. He was WRONG. 

“Self-destruct” seemed to depersonalize exactly what the action meant. With Gavin in his arms, his Gavin, the man who made him smile for the first time, the man who made him feel for the first time, RK900 felt that a more human title should’ve been given. He knew, now, what it truly meant to be alive. He’d been getting glimpses into what could’ve been every moment he spent with Gavin. He could’ve had it all, everything he wanted. Now it was too late. RK900 reached for the discarded gun.

He may have been alive, now. But what is the point of being alive when the only thing worth living for is no longer alive itself?

“I love you, too,” RK900 said aloud, an error in his programming making his voice shake. “If only I’d realized it sooner.”

He fired the second shot. 

He didn’t miss, this time. 

Blue mixed with red, and two became one as they swirled into a deep violet river, staining the cold concrete with the colours of regret. 

__________

This is for all the people who read part one and encouraged me to write a part two. I hope you all enjoy, I’m actually sorry for this. Gavin Reed deserved better.

[redsdesktop]

DBH: Deviant Dynamics

Chapter 6

Warnings: None. Take a break kiddos.

The heels of his pristine shoes clicked off the well polished marble floor of the mansion RK900 was brought into, bringing back memories of the time he spent here with Markus. The place always had a homey sort of air about it except that it was startling empty, making every noise echo through the halls. The paintings that lined the walls, each one telling a story that at first, RK900 could only read at face value, but now, something had shifted.

He paused to stand before a certain painting, one where he could see the finest details of each loving stroke as the painter had obviously taken great care to make this picture their finest work.

"His name was Carl." Markus' voice broke through RK900's analyzing, causing the newer android to turn his head to look at Markus for further explanation. "He was like a father to me. He passed away a week after I was successful in gaining freedom for androids."

RK900 scowled, while his systems were curious, it was a mere blip on his list of tasks he needed to accomplish. He kept his exterior cool, showing weakness before Markus was generally a bad idea. The other android would prey upon it in a heartbeat. While his methods were not considered wrong, RK900 had no interest in addressing the developing feelings stirred up from the spreading of his deviancy. All he wanted from Markus was answers and he knew the other android had them, withholding them from RK900.

"Where's Connor." He repeated, his voice even but there was a underlying threat lingering in the directness of his words. As Markus met his gaze, he could see sympathy in his expression which only served to irritated RK900 further. His LED was still a glacial blue, frigid just like his current exterior, solid like the posture of his frame. There would be no give, no softening of his features. Not when he was in the presence of another alpha. He noticed his changes, the way his line of thinking deviated from the norm. Before his stance would remain stiff out of programming designed to make him intimidating to criminals and deviants. Now it was out of making sure that he wasn't to be provoked when he wanted to know where the older android was.

"He's back at his place." Markus reached out quickly, his grip tight as RK900 had turned to leave upon gaining such information. It wouldn't take much to dig up Hank's home address, the old detective likely lived nearby in one of the middle class districts as people in the police force weren't exactly well paid. Rk900 went impossibly more rigid at the touch, at being denied. His LED flickered too fast to tell what color it had tried to shift to before going back to a steady blue. Cold eyes shifted to look pointedly down at Markus' hand in a silent warning that the other android should let go of him if he wanted to keep that limb.

"If you have any care or decency in your programming in this moment of time, you won't go looking for Connor." Markus implored, trying to plead with him as orders likely would only make the situation worse. Smart move. Rk900 flicked his glare back to Markus', both unblinking in this standoff.

"Connor is fine, just sit a while and I'll explain everything. Connor will return once everything is settled again." Markus kept his voice even and calm despite the looming threat, it wouldn't be the first time the two would've fought. During his time with Markus, the two had ended up in pretty rough shape, so RK900 knew that reasoning wouldn't exactly be necessary if Markus wanted to keep him here.

"I would like to request that you give me all the information you know about what is going on." RK900 said, though it sounded like a request, the demand was final in his shortness. Markus nodded, though the man seemed tense still, who wouldn't be with two prime alphas facing off with different agendas.Once Markus was reassured that RK900 wouldn't leave, yet, the other android pulled back, releasing the newer model. He extended an arm, motioning to another room. RK900 reluctantly obeyed and entered a room with tall ceilings, everything here was like organized chaos. Various paints, art supplies and canvases littered the place. It looked well lived in, he supposed this is what Markus considered a home.

To RK900, it was just a room, devoid of anything that particularly caught his interest.

"Take a seat if you would." Markus motioned to an empty chair that had flecks of old, dried paint on it, likely a side effect of being in a room filled with focused painting. As instructed, RK900 took a seat, his hands placed on his knees perfectly aligned as his back remained stiff. Though he was unnervingly still, his stale gray eyes tracked Markus' every move as the android began setting up a decent sized canvas on an easel. RK900 appeared to be waiting patiently for Markus to get set up, but the clock glitching in the top of his vision continued to count up, calculating the time he last seen Connor.

"Have you decided on a name yet, 900?" Markus broke the silence as he dabbed the tip of his paintbrush in some paint.

"No. I still find the idea to be uninteresting." It was almost aggravating with how much Markus pestered him about finding a name. Honestly, RK900 hadn't even given it a second thought, he was fine being addressed by his model number, despite the protests of everyone else around him.

"I see." Markus replied as if the answer hadn't completely satisfied him, but there was something more up his sleeve. "I just thought that having a human name would make it more personal. Say if you had a name, Connor might view you as less of a threat and might approve of your presence more."

There was a faint lowering of RK900's brows, Markus was making it obvious, pecking at the weakness he'd shown. He didn't like it, didn't like the fact that Connor was making him go against everything he was programmed to do. Nothing was steady any more, nothing was certain. However, Markus had planted that seed of thought into his systems were it was already growing like a weed, one he was helpless to stop. Being superior in any way, he had been confident in his programming that it would prevent the deviant virus from spreading into him, but it seemed that being so confident was considered Pride. Perhaps he was already infected from the very start.

He recalled how Connor's expression would light up whenever he called Hank's name, gaining the older male's attention, tailing after the alpha despite the grumbling protests that seemed halfhearted even to RK900. He couldn't help but to think what it would be like for Connor to call his name with those warm brown eyes sparking with interest,. Those lips curving in a lopsided smile. To think Cyberlife thought Connor was outdated and obsolete, he was glad that the company no longer existed. It went against everything in him to think such things when he was designed to protect Cyberlife. There were no orders from them, allowing room for ones from the insidious deviancy working its way through his systems.

"900, your stress levels are rising." Markus' clear voice rang out through RK900's errors and alarms, making his focus narrow in on the other android. Markus seemed to be regarding him with an expression of accomplishment as those blue and green eyes watched him from around the canvas.

"You said you would tell me what is wrong with Connor." RK900 moved the topic off of him, not wanting Markus to pry any deeper, the last thing he wanted to feel was exposed before this man.

"Right." Markus seemed reluctant, but decided not to test RK900's patience. "It seems our original creator has decided to tamper with Cyberlife's RK series. As you are aware, we are the more experimental model, specialized and more advanced than the others." Rk900 grasped onto the conversation, willing to listen just so Markus' steady and soft toned voice would help steady his systems back to machine grade.

"When he designed Connor, he experimented with the making of an artificial omega. Being who Kamski is, he was very thorough to make Connor as close to realism as possible." Markus' brows furrowed as if trying to determined Kamski's end goal here but not even he could determine it. "It appears Connor has gone into an artificial heat. If you wish for details, you're free to collect the data you need. I'll wait." Markus went back to his painting, his gaze shifting back and forth from the canvas to RK900.

In the meantime, RK900 was already scouring the internet for information on heats, compiling it into his storage and reading it with efficiency. It only took a brief few seconds before he understood the basics of what had happened and it made everything in him still. Connor's subtle scent was already imprinted in his system without him even meaning to and to know that a heat cycle would make a scent even more intoxicating seemed impossible. If an alpha wasn't schooled enough, the scent alone would drive them mindless with primal needs, wanting to satisfy and claim an omega in the most basic, primitive way possible.

The idea of losing all his control was unnerving, he was already struggling enough as it was. He could only assume that because he was created an alpha that Kamski likely tampered with him as well and RK900 did not want to risk falling into what the humans called a rut just because he thought he'd be immune. His fingers tightened on his knees, causing his finely pressed slacks to wrinkle, disrupting the perfection he strove to keep. Everything was falling into disorder and RK900 was doing his best to claw his way back to some semblance of control.

Despite his best attempts, he knew that he would never rid himself of this demand to make Connor his.

The solution was clear to him now, if Connor submitted to him, then order would be restored, everything would be set right. His tongue dragged over the front of his teeth, able to feel the sharp tips of his canines scrape over the top of his tongue. There was nothing more satisfying of an idea as sinking his teeth into the back of Connor's neck, what sort of noise would he make? Would he tremble in fear and pleasure, succumbing to a hunter that was far superior to him?

"Nine. You're starting to stink up the place," That wasn't Connor's voice, making his vision fizzle from his fantasy to land with a heavy glare onto Markus for daring to disturb him while he'd been in the process of claiming his omega. Or thought he'd been. It seemed his deviancy was starting to corrupt his sense of simulation and reality.He'd been unaware that his scent had been strong enough to leak out through the high collar of his jacket, an instinct meant to lure his partner, to overwhelm an omega's senses, to scent mark his partner so everyone knew who he belonged to.

And to be denied that only built on the ever growing frustration.

"If you are this serious in having an interest in Connor." Markus shook his head as he cleaned his paintbrush off, "Which I have to add is nearly an impossible task in itself." RK900 was already processing all the possible obstacles that would get in his way in obtaining Connor and how he should deal with them.

"Then I suggest you start you start learning what Connor likes. Take Hank for example, the man hates you." A brief, light laugh escaped the older android and shook his head, "He pretty much dislikes generally everyone but his dog and Connor actually. And Connor absolutely adores the grouch, follows him around, as Hank would say, 'like a god damn poodle.'" RK900's brows furrowed, his LED swirling into a yellow, the talk of Connor hanging out with the older alpha, platonic or not, got under RK900's plating.

"So attacking Hank would get you no closer to Connor, in fact, it probably made Connor dislike you even more. So what you need to do is go through the age old human tradition of courting." Markus frowned a little, as if he was unable to believe he was giving this talk to anyone, much less RK900. "I assume you can read up on that by yourself without the aid of me, I've talked about enough cheesy motivation lines in my life that I don't need one more. Especially with this topic. So for the duration of Connor's heat, you will be staying here on vacation leave. I don't want to have to deal with any more complaints from the department about a deviant android on a rampage." Markus set down his paintbrush, wiping his hands on a stained rag.

"If I catch you trying to leave." The sudden severity of Markus' words were such a drastic change that it made even RK900 bristle from the threat. "We will have to go through more correctional training."

[finding-jericho-blog]

6, 10, 15, 16, 17, 30, 35 (u already know which good bean :’) ), 54 ❤️

THANK YOU FOR ASKING I LOVE YOU

6. Favorite character you ever created.I have a lot of characters that are dear to my heart; I have a soft spot for them, especially because I created them when I was young and I’ve had them all these years, but they aren’t… GOOD characters by my (or anyone’s really) standards, so I don’t use them. I love by DBH oc Aurora, she’s a good little android babbu, feel free to ask me about her sometime, I love my other DBH oc Grace, though I had a falling out with the writer I was role playing her with so.. I kind of have a bad taste in my mouth about her at the moment. I love my Boku No Hero Academia oc Mitsuko!! She’s freakin rad??? But I THINK my favorite… has to be Bree.

10. Pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.Um, I PICK YOU! Let’s write a DBH sequel! >:D

15. Where does your inspiration come from?Pretty much all of my inspiration comes from the various movies, shows, games, etc. that I’m into. It’s just so inspiring to see these fleshed out worlds and the characters that live there and that’s what aspire to do, to tell interesting stories with wonderful, life-like characters that people can REALLY get behind!

16. Where do you take your motivation from?I mostly take it from my own enjoyment! That’s kind of obvious though, because this is what I enjoy doing, and if I didn’t, I.. wouldn’t do it? XD But knowing other people enjoy what I do FOR FUN is really motivating, so that’s a big part of it!

17. On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?Depends on what I’m writing! If I’m working on d e v i a n t s (Lauren’s and I’s role play), then upwards of 3,000! For Empathy or Same Difference, it really depends, but.. I’d say around 2,000 before I quit for the day.

30. Favorite line you’ve ever written.What a terribly cruel way to catch deviants, she thought, to lure them into a false sense of security with such a kind and sincere looking face. She wanted to trust him; that was the worst part.

This was so hard to pick but… this line is from a role play with my character Aurora; she’s a WE900, designed to keep the company of high school and college students, so she’s kind of… just a kid, and Connor and the DPD has her cornered her; if she makes a run for it, they will definitely shoot her down and kill her right on the spot, and Connor, who is beginning to show signs of deviancy himself, holds his hand out and begs her to just go with him quietly and he’ll make sure they don’t kill her; not here, anyway. He begs her to trust him, and she wants to, so badly.

Unfortunately, this role play went nowhere and the partner stopped logging in, otherwise it would have been fun to explore a sort of.. brotherly/sisterly relationship between Connor and Aurora!

35. Tell some backstory details about one of your characters in your story BREE.Hoh boy okay, hopefully people don’t mind me talking about Bree since she’s kind of a “cliche” and there are some minor changes to canon you and I decided on to make this work. Aubree Kamski is the daughter of Elijah, she was born at a time where Elijah was at his busiest, right on the verge of discovering Thirium 310; he wasn’t even there for her birth, and afterwards her mother just kind of fucked off to who knows where. Some of his associates at CyberLife actually took care of her until he finally successfully created Chloe, who then not only became his personal assistant, but became Bree’s surrogate mother. They made sure Bree made no mistake in thinking Chloe was her mother, though, and from an early age she realized that Chloe didn’t (couldn’t) actually LOVE her; she was just a machine. Despite the general lack of affection in her life, Bree always did what she was told, and a friend of Elijah’s, Carl Manfred, once said that she was the saddest, most lifeless child he’d ever seen and berated his friend for treating her like one of his creations. The only time Bree can remember Elijah actively trying to be part of her life was when he was teaching her things about his androids and his company (he assumed she would take his place one day), and studying her behavior for the purpose of creating the ‘perfect child’ android; for that reason, Bree has a soft spot for the children models, as if they are little siblings. The day she turned 18, Bree pretty much said fuck this shit I’m out and left, and hasn’t spoken to Elijah since, despite Chloe’s continual attempts to make contact. Basically, she was tired of being his show pony and got fed up with being the perfect daughter, but she didn’t go buck wild or anything; Bree just lived quietly on her own and spent most of her days sitting in a local cafe reading whatever book she could get her hands on. Due to her general mistrust of people, who were (in her eyes) only ever nice to her to get to her father, Bree never really made 'friends’ with anyone except the barista at this cafe, an android named Ross. One day, however, a certain violent WR400 thought it would be a wonderful idea to try and use her as leverage to make Elijah admit to the masses that androids are awake and aware…

50. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had.Okay, bear with me on this one, because I saved this in my notes when I’d gone 24 hours without sleep and it might not make any sense! X’D

When especially cruel people die, they turn into dragons for a second chance; it’s a curse, they are turned into the worst, most fearsome creatures,  they cannot speak, and can only do their best to make up for whatever wrong they did. These dragons have a gemstone imbedded in their chest and their color scheme is based around that gem?? Kind of like steven universe I guess fuck me anyway the more acts of genuine kindness, the smaller a dragon is. So in other words, a HUGE dragon is incredibly cruel. But the bigger they are, the easier they are to kill, and the smaller they are, the more hardy they are.

When the dragon is very small, one more act of genuine kindness reduces them to only their gemstone thing, which depends on the returned act of kindness of people around them the take it to some temple or whatever for it to be concentrated. They can either chose to move on and release their spirits, or return to their previous human forms. If the human who finds their gem and is not kind, the gem can be crafted into a necklace/other jewlery and that person can USE that necklace to turn into a dragon, themselves?? idk

Also if a dragon is killed, they leave behind their gemstone as well and their spirits cannot move on, these gems can also be used to create necklaces, BUT. the spirit of the dragon can possess the wearer and turn THEM into a dragon???

[imakebadfanfiction-blog]

Evan in Deadland

(look, a tree bros fic, but also a jasper in deadland fic. how great.)

“I love you, Evan...” Connor told him.

It was the night before a tragedy. One neither of them foresaw.

Evan Hansen had found this really great diving place, and he had tried to convince Connor to jump in with him. However, Connor had refused this time after time. It didn't stop him from trying, though.

"Do you love me?" he asked. Evan didn't know what to say honestly.

The truth was that he was in love with Connor, but he knew he wasn't worthy of him.

"Connor, I--"

Connor, the perfect Connor. I don’t deserve you. No way. My life’s too messed up. You’ll see.

Evan reluctantly turned his back, “I have to go.”

The next night, after getting back from dinner at Jared's place because his mother was once again not around. He just couldn’t keep another pizza slice down. He had to eat something else, and at long last, he had. He noticed a missed call on the answer machine. That was weird. No one ever called the Hansen residence. He listened to it anyway.

“Hey, it's Connor. We need to talk about last night."

It was Connor, and he wanted to talk about last night.

“If you wanna talk, I’ll be at our cliff. I wish you had picked up.”

Evan left the house immediately. He had to explain to Connor. Why he had left like that, and why he was sure Connor didn’t want or need him.

As he arrived, he found no trace of Connor, other than his school bag and a pack of cigarettes. So, he’d obviously been there. Evan just wasn’t sure where he was now.

So he called out to him. “Connor? Connor, I’m at the cliff just like you said! Look, you deserve so much more than me!” He walked toward the edge of the cliff, and noticed something snagged awkwardly on a branch below.

Connor’s jacket...

“Oh, God...” he leaned over the cliffside, readying himself for the dive. He checked for any sign that Connor was still alive down there, and he could see his curly mop of hair if he squinted.

“Connor?! I'm coming!" he shouted, as if the probably dead boy could hear him.

He could just barely make out the words, “Now Entering Deadland” coming from his phone, which was still in his back pocket. It occurred to him now that this was a very stupid idea. Regardless, he was in a hurry.

Connor had never dived before. If his jacket of all items had gotten ripped off of him in the process, then it was clear he wasn’t diving... but falling to his death.

That branch was so close to the side. What if he’d hit his head?! Evan was now completely riddled with regret and anxiety.

There were voices now. Ghostly wails that seemed to be getting closer with each foot, and time seemed to slow down.

“Goodbye, Evan!” and there were the ghosts. They were waving to him, as if he was going somewhere.

Evan felt like he was barely moving. “What the hell is happening?!” he asked.

“Evan, you’re falling!” three, all in matching black jackets, cried. They looked like Connor, but the faces were smudged and blurred.

"Yeah, no, duh! Where is Connor?!" he looked down, and for whatever reason... couldn't see the water anymore. Instead it was just... inky darkness, and if he looked hard enough... what looked like to be other people.

"We are Connor," they replied. The word Connor seemed to echo.

"Now, Evan, you will see your most important memories of Connor." one told him, and before he could blink, he saw himself.

He looked like he did at the beginning of senior year.

His mother had told him to get at least one friend to sign his cast. Unfortunately, he hadn't found anyone yesterday, so it became a requirement today. Yet he still didn't have any friends. Well, he had Jared, but who's Jared??

"Excuse me!" he'd worked up the courage to say something to the noodle of a boy. "Um, hey..."

"Hi. How'd you break your arm?" Connor replied, pointing at the cast rapped around it.

"I fell out of a tree..." he mumbled.

Connor cracked a smile, and Evan could feel his heart melting. Though his heart didn't melt back then. "That is the saddest fuckin' thing I've ever heard." he told him.

Evan just looked away.

"Can I sign it?" he asked.

"Um, sure!" he'd finally be able to get it signed. He was going to ask anyway, but hadn't worked up the nerve yet.

He wrote "Connor" in big letters.

Evan remembered thinking, "What a dickhead..." at the time, but now he was glad he'd spoken to him at all.

"There, now we can both pretend we have friends." Connor stated, pushing the sharpie he'd used back into his back pocket.

"Connor... What's you real first name?" Evan had asked, but Connor had just stared at him. "Oh, it's Connor!!" He found himself laughing. "Holy shit. Sorry. Sorry, sorry. I'm new in town. Um, this may come of lame, but, umm... got no friends, and to hang I'd be down."

He'd jumbled up his words again, and immediately felt like he had made a big mistake, and Evan cringed at himself.

Say something, please. You're quite. And you didn't even smile to be polite or anything... except for when I told you I fell out of a tree, he vaguely remembered thinking something like this.

Connor readjusted the strap on his messenger bag and began walking away, and Evan felt this was a crushing defeat.

"Goodbye, Evan. You're a weird guy, but I think I'll keep you around." And now Evan could pick up all the pieces again and start to feel better. "I'm free tomorrow around three."

Then he left.

Jasper was then falling again, surrounded by smiling ghosts, still waving at him.

"Goodbye, Evan!"

Then the world flashed again.

It was that day at the cliff.

"Connor, take the dive with me! Come on! It's not high. It's like thirty at most. We'll go stroke by stroke." he, sitting in a tree branch with Connor, and pointing down the small ravine.

"Come on, Connor. Come with me. Just one time." he begged, leaning his head on Connor's shoulder.

He had been texting his mom, and he angrily scrunched up his face. "I gotta go, actually, Ev. Nice try, by the way, but I'm gonna stay on the ground. Go and jump. I hope you survive! Good luck, Mister Wonderful."

So, he did. That day, actually.

As he sunk down, he let himself calm.

He was weightless down there.

Something Connor had told him once rang in his head, There are things that you don't know about me, Evan.

You think I'm perfect.

He tried not to let the thoughts bother him.

But I'm not.

He was alone, and he was safe... from everything and everyone.

He was falling again, and he heard the ghosts again, but this time they sounded a bit melancholy.

"The last night..."

And he was there.

Last night.

"Let's change things. From this moment on, we'll do it right. You and me, we'll be the first to make it happen. And we won't look back..."

Though Connor's voice was distant, it was there, and Evan could hear him. He refused to open his eyes, though.

"But you couldn't love him!" the ghost yelled over all the others who were still wailing.

"And now he's gone! What's done can not be undone!"

The ghosts continuously got louder, and Evan tried to quiet the voices in his head. He just couldn't.

"No! No, no, no! Please don't... I can't lose him, too." he covered his ears.

"Stop!" As he shouted, the ghosts quieted.

"I'm gonna find him!" he screamed.

The ghosts shook their heads at each other. As if this was a lost cause.

"Good luck," they told him.

Everything swirled around in his mind.

"Connor, just wait!" he shouted, but he could barely be heard over the ghosts.

He heard one last goodbye before everything flashed back to normal, and his fact was inches away from a rock.

He hit the side of his head, narrowly avoiding his face being bashed in, and the rest of his body splashed into the water.

Goodbye.

(this needs a part 2, right? I think it calls for one.)

[fandom-necromancer]

Reluctant Jealousy

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

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900, Allen60

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

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

-

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

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

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

-

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[jurakan]

Alright the mess that is Assassin’s Creed: Unity

@tarynsullivan asked for it so here we go.

Assassin’s Creed for those not in the know is a historical science-fiction series about the secret war between two secret societies throughout history, the Assassins and the Templars. The way these stories were originally framed was that some dude in the modern day, Desmond Miles, was reliving the memories of his ancestors through a machine called the Animus, learning Assassin skills and information about the secret history of the world all the while.

Thing is, nobody really liked Desmond. Alright actually lots of people liked him, but critics didn’t, and his segments were frequently cited as the most boring in the video games, because for the most part there isn’t much action. After all, the main draw was the historical sections, so that’s where most of the budget went. The first game has all of his segments wandering around the lab uncovering clues. The second had some fighting and parkour stuff, but only a little. The next couple didn’t have any fighting at all. So Assassin’s Creed III decided to fix this by giving him a couple of missions where he fights/assassinates, and then killed him off at the end.

Yeah, here’s the thing though--without a central protagonist, the present day storyline pushing it all kind of floundered around.

Oops.

Pushing things further was that this was a series that was constantly trying to reinvent itself, which can be a difficult when you’re releasing one game per year. Which makes sense--you have different historical periods, you have different kinds of weapons and societies and such, so how the game works has to change. And of course, this was when consoles were switching, so they’d be getting brand spanking new types of systems (the Xbox One and the Playstation 4) to play these games on, after the polarizing Assassin’s Creed III and the near-universally loved Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag.

And so...Assassin’s Creed: Unity.

To be fair here this was one of the most ambitious titles in the series. It was the setting that people had been clamoring for since it was announced that the first game would get sequels: the French Revolution. It would feature the city of Paris actually to scale, rather than the scaled down versions of cities in past games. And you’d get to go in buildings, and they’d be taking a back-to-basics approach to assassinations, which means that instead of scripted events that end with killing someone, you just have a target and you can pick however you want to get to them. Movement was revamped, so climbing around was much easier (and beautiful to look at). Combat was made more difficult to put more emphasis on stealth, and now you could customize your character in a bajillion different ways, which would help you when you did co-op multiplayer, where you team up with your friends online and killed people together. You know, bonding. The idea being that your different friends focus on different skills; you’d be the stealth guy with lockpicking, he’d be the combat guy, she’d be the sniper, and so forth.

The first major issue was before release. See, at some game convention, someone asked if you could play as a female Assassin. The actual answer was no, because you’re always playing as the main character of the game, who’s a dude, and in multiplayer each of you sees yourself as that main character and your friends as other Assassins. Which is weird, but whatevs.

But somehow someone took the actual statement and twisted it to “Ubisoft official said women are too hard to animate,” which led to this whole kerfuffle of people saying they were wrong, that Ubisoft was claiming that they couldn’t have a female protagonist (even though they’d done it before, so obviously not true), and some people going so far as to say that the Assassin’s Creed series didn’t have female characters, which isn’t even close to being true. But hey, you get the Internet social justice movements rolling, there’s little that’s going to stop them.

So already a bunch of people were saying they were going to boycott this game.

The thing that most critics noticed was that there were tons of bugs. Like...a lot. Ubisoft scrambled to fix as many as they could right after release, but the damage was already made. The game had forever been branded as the one where people’s faces didn’t load, and the much-anticipated co-op multiplayer was laggy. You had to pay for certain online features to unlock everything. So people kept saying not to buy this game, because it’s broken and glitchy as fudge, which led to lower sales. Obviously longtime fans were buying, but newcomers (the market Ubisoft had been courting since killing off Desmond) stayed away because everyone was saying this game wasn’t very good. So Unity had much lower sales than expected.

Except longtime fans didn’t like this game so much either, because of the story. There pretty much wasn’t a modern day story, other than a new character popping up with no introduction saying to find this person so that we can find him before the Templars do in modern day; which at the end, turns out to be taken care of, so it didn’t go anywhere. There was an ancient artifact in the story, like in most games, but no one seems to care that it exists, or what happened to it after the historical sections of the game. So again, goes nowhere.

The historical sections were also plagued by protagonist issues. People rant about how Arno Dorian, the new Assassin, wasn’t very good and was just a copy of more popular protagonists of the past. I don’t think that’s necessarily true. He’s snarkier than them, and he’s got his own woes and troubles and is sympathetic enough. I think the problem is just that the story told isn’t his. Let me expound:

Basically, the story starts with him as a wee little lad. His father is mysteriously killed, so he’s adopted by the De La Serre family, a wealthy aristocratic family who has a daughter (Elise) about his own age. They grow up together, they fall in love, but then Elise’s dad/Arno’s guardian is murdered and Arno is framed for it. Arno’s locked up in the Bastile (in the segment shown in Conan’s playthrough) where he meets a friend of his father, who trains him to be an Assassin. They escape on Bastile Day, he becomes an Assassin....BUT OHES NOES, it turns out that the de La Serres were actually a Templar family, and Elise’s dad’s murder was a coup within the Templar Order itself. So Elise is on a rampage of revenge, and Arno wants to help her, but he’s more there for her and she doesn’t care about personal safety and also other Assassins think working with a Templar is stupid and--

Look if this sounds really complicated, it is, even by AC standards. But my point is this: the story doesn’t center around Arno. It centers around Elise. It’s her revenge plot. It’s her father who was killed. Yeah Arno’s dad was also murdered, but he doesn’t seem overly concerned with that and it never comes up again. By all rights the story is about Elise, but we’re not playing as her. So while Arno isn’t a bad character, the fact is that it isn’t his story, so he isn’t allowed to shine his best.

Compounding on all of this is that the French Revolution is mostly a backdrop. Past games used a lot of historical events and tied them into the plot. Ezio’s dad, for instance, was killed because he knew about the Pazzi Conspiracy before it happened. Connor goes and kills the Templar Pitcairn at the Battle of Bunker Hill. Edward goes and helps get Blackbeard medicines from Charleston when he blockaded the city. And so forth. History was stretched to fit the plot sometimes, but it was still there.

Not so for the French Revolution. Yeah, he breaks out from the Bastile on Bastile Day, but other than that? Nothing. Napoleon pops up in a few scenes but doesn’t do much. The King is executed in one cutscene, but it’s not actually related to anything anyone’s doing. And Robespierre’s fall is in the game but it’s not until towards the end. So it’s mostly a way to have a certain aesthetic without actually having history in the story.

Furthermore, the history is...off. And often biased. The past games weren’t as perfect as some fans like to think. Painting the Borgias as obvious incestuous supervillains, for one. Charles Lee being racist against Native Americans and a complete dickwad, despite actually being married to a Native American in real life, something the game doesn’t bring up. But Unity paints Revolutionaries as just being violent extremists to make a moral against extremism. Myths like Louis’s execution being decided by one vote are repeated. The lack of money and food was just because the Templars did it, rather than mentioning that France was in debt because of all the wars it had waged. Robespierre is a Templar despite in real life being paranoid about secret societies and conspiracies. Charlotte Corday, one of the most famous assassins in history, isn’t part of the Brotherhood but just an angry woman who murdered Marat (who isn’t alive in the game at all). Actually most real life revolutionaries have either reduced roles or just aren’t in it--Danton only shows up in co-op missions as ‘the Hero of the Revolution and the friend that Robespierre betrayed!’ Champollion as an adult is in a side mission, despite him having been about three years old at the time.

People had often criticized how the games had you change history, but this one was criticized for almost ignoring it. The Assasssins are all about doing stuff for the little guy, but stay almost entirely out of this event. At least one article said ignoring the Revolution was like setting a story in NYC in 2001 and not talking about the 9/11 attacks.

Past games also tried to get accents right? The first one had Altair with an American accent sure, but other characters spoke with Arabic or French or German accents, and Altair’s was fixed in later games. The Renaissance games had voice coaches teach the actors to speak with Italian accents. Connor and his people actually speak Mohawk in their scenes. Unity... skipped this step, and went with British accents despite them not being English. This is pretty common in fiction, but it was jarring in a series that usually did better. And it didn’t work with a character like Napoleon Bonaparte speaking perfectly good upper-class English when in real life he was mocked for speaking French with an Italian accent, being from Corsica.

The TV Tropes pages have more comprehensive stuff if you’re curious.

All of this put together this made the game something of an embarrassment for the people at Ubisoft. They straight-up apologized for it in public, and its low sales led to the series going on break for 2016 (if we don’t count the movie). Syndicate, the game that immediately followed in 2015, was widely considered to be a sort of apology--not a brilliant game, but a step in the right direction. To this day though, Arno’s often left out of official materials and the events of the Revolution aren’t mentioned most of the time.

Aaaaand yeah. That pretty much sums it up as best I can.

[deviationdivine]

A Kiss Is a Kiss (Connor|Request!)

TLDR: Confessions are sometimes the best way to say ‘I love you’

Word Count: 2,082

TW: Wholesome Fluff, Minor Language 

A/N: Kiss Prompt: 67. “When One Stops The Kiss To Whisper “I’m Sorry, Are You Sure You-” And They Answer By Kissing Them More”   |  I don’t mind at all! And you’re right! My main android boy needs love. Here we go! I have a couple other requests in my queue to get to but the ask box is still open for business!

“Just relax, Connor.”

“How am I supposed to, as you say, relax?” Connor’s brows rose incredulously. Listening to advice from his partner can potentially lead to unwanted probabilities. As the deviant android sees it now that is a high percentage from current assessment. 

Obviously it is clear in his face how distracted with analytics. Filling up his brain, running diagnostics over personal status and somehow the thought of you makes him overheat. Continuously as a matter of factual -

“Don’t analyze shit! Be your goddamn self!” 

Hank’s biting words cease the android’s internal struggle. He is still learning despite having been free for some time now. You make him question. It is not a negative thing. Being a machine while you are so human, pure and-and he feels so much. 

“I can’t do it, Hank,” Connor murmurs uncharacteristically lacking in confidence.

The android formerly sent by Cyberlife who infiltrated, took down various guards to free his people in the tower warehouse is afraid to watch a movie with you. 

Not just anywhere. Here in the comfort of the lieutenant’s home which Hank is attempting to leave making it much more intimate than it should be. 

“Jesus. Get a grip! It’s a damn movie. Not a marriage proposal!”

Grabbing keys off counter set Hank off for his front door. The look of disgust is written on his face.

This kid jumps from buildings to moving trains and can’t even sit his ass down for a regular human activity. This pining shit he’s doing is pissing Hank off. Why else is he purposely getting out of here? “I’ll be at Jimmy’s Bar. Don’t wait up.” 

“I don’t think…”

A slam of the door cuts into the android’s protest. Leaving Hank to go off drinking is not the best idea. He has cut back but it does not mean it’s become good for his health now. Mulling this longer than typical shows how strangely human this feeling of trepidation can be.

“Wait, Lieutenant!”

The minute he wrenches open front door is the single highest spike his system ever experiences. Connor’s lips part unable to process with you already on the porch; hand in the air with impending knuckles about to crack upon its surface.

An immediate stillness takes hold looking into his face. It honestly takes a minute for you to move again. Is this your body telling you that you’re breaking down? Funny, humans attain those problems albeit in an entirely different way. Oh, it’s just a very handsome kind right now.

“Connor,” you say his name with soft affection. How can you not? He’s just-

“Hi.” A smile brightens the second you study him better, standing there in a casual button down almost identical to the hue of thirium. How fitting. 

Actually, it’s nice to see him out of those work uniforms. As much as you enjoy a man in a suit and tie; your breath draws slowly locking onto warm chocolate. Richer than a good mug of hot beverage you’re sure.

There is something about his eyes. Always saw how deep they can go just a faraway galaxy of cocoa. Swirls of caramel flecks shining starry and alive, you find yourself pulled into the softest black hole the universe may create. Nothing can be fuller or livelier than the eyes of this wonderful detective. 

Often you think about days waking up to see them early hours of the morn. Knowing they were always going to be part of your existence.

Fantasy really. Call it an overactive taste for the romantic. He exudes your deepest dreams from long ago. It came back as an adult now ever since you saw him.

“Y/N.” Connor’s voice is stilted. He blinks before narrowing eyes towards driveway. Hank’s car is gone. Did the lieutenant pass you? Of course he must have. There is no chance you avoided each other due to the time frame in which he stepped out and you…

“Earth to Connor.” Snapping fingers up to gain his attention causes a light giggle on your breath. How cute is he? Well, that’s a rhetorical question. “Are you OK?”

Something in the tone you present makes him straighten. This time he finds himself prepared or – an equivalent of preparation. “I am fine. I was… Please,” he decides to act with proper etiquette. 

Standing aside to let you inside allows the android to watch closely as you accept. Unable to stop studying the moving sway of your body sets his internal core temperature to dangerous levels. Overheating whenever you are near is a constant he comes to crave. Looking forward to those fleeting sensations, he wants to always have a reason to experience them now.

“I just saw Hank.” You confess really wondering why the man barreled out of here like a bat out of hell. Well, who cares honestly? That means the two of you are alone for once.

“Ah, yes,” Connor nods, closing door securely. “He had something important to accomplish.”

Does that include knocking back a few at the bar? Keeping it to yourself, it’s obvious that Connor’s acting a little off. He seems…nervous. Why would he-?

“So what did you have in mind? For tonight I mean.” Quickly explaining your choice of words it’s not every night you’re alone with Connor. The thought of it makes everything light. A flutter deep in your stomach ripples nervously because he’s so close. Does he know? Of course he can scan you but this is nice either way.

His smile is lopsided, light and partially dazed. The android completely snaps out of his distraction. Finally he registers your question. “Ah, I...I did not think that far ahead.” 

“Oh,” a quiet huff leaves you. 

Connor immediately regrets his response. “Y/N, I did not mean I forgot about tonight. I only...”

“Connor.” Hushing him with a gentle brush of fingers against his cheekbone radiates shared warmth between you two. Making him uncomfortable is never something you can live with. You thought - well, you’ve been closer. That’s all you want. “You know for having such impressive skills you’re lacking tonight in your negotiator tactics. You could probably get me to do anything.”

Anything. He hears your voice but can only focus on the lovely form of lips that spill words. How shining your eyes are as they look at him as if he were a regular man. It isn’t long before you decide to drag him into living room.

Contact from your skin to synthetic fuels his longing. This thing burning in his chest that has raged so long for you is one thing only. It is love.

Seating yourself on the couch, him following without speaking, you eye the room, searching for Sumo. Wonder where he’s  lounging?

“We can always look through what movies Hank has lying around. Maybe then…” Your voice ceases abruptly, fading into the ravenous lips of your ‘date’ who cradles your face in a delicate draw. The connection is a tidal wave of feelings washing over the two of you.

Pushing his arms down to hoist up on seat cushion, you’re already snaking arms around the android’s neck. It comes quickly this need to tangle and both of you are in sync to a burning tempo unleashing every secret held since the beginning. 

His arms are full of you; pulling your body flush and it forces you to sink down from the hasty kneel atop couch. Instead he catches your body down against his.

You cling to him aware of the thundering beats rapping against ribs. Can your heart even stand how much fire runs through veins? Strong hands locking onto hips holds you in place and this is the moment everything falls together. Except Connor will never let you go.

Connor pants into your mouth feeling how far this physical contact takes him. Arousal shoots through him to the point of blindness in his circuitry. 

He wants to lay your body down, gently at first, worshiping every part, tasting what makes you so perfect to him. Then he wishes to show you how much he will give in his raw, human splendor that continues to make him more than machine.

Thoughts are furiously whirring. He thinks of every possibility but remembers. He is an android and you-you are worth more than the stars above. “I’m sorry,” the deviant’s whisper is full of true desire. Even as he tries to pull away from your gravity he hardly wants to end the kiss. “Are you sure you-”

Answering with a breathy kiss shuts up any doubts. Those are the same you know he still goes through but every time there’s a reminder of how deserving of this he is. That’s what happens now. Letting his lips become a beacon alighting passion and love. Never have you felt this for another being and never again will you. Only will it be him because you love this sweet android more than he knows.

“Stop talking and just kiss me a little more.”

The instruction brings a full smile to the detective’s face causing the rare appearance of dimples in his happy thread of emotions. Reading your heart rate now it appears you enjoy this aesthetic. Yet, he still has questions. “Wouldn’t you prefer to be with a human man?” 

Is that why he’s been so hesitant? All this time how can he even think you want anything else? Growing close, finding so much together while falling further into this human life and it fits him like a glove. He’s more than anything in the world. Does he even realize? Can he see that to you he is the whole of the universe?

You slide fingers up his chest. Making a point to place a palm dead center it’s all there is to show. “I feel your heart. It beats just like mine,” a fragile whisper speaks the truth. He may disagree but his heart is human enough for you. 

“Connor, I don’t want a human man.” What does human or android matter? Love is love and this is it. “I don’t need anything at all in the world. I just want you.”

A series of simple words but they completely shatter this prototype android snapping every seam of doubt. He never should have questioned but you are far too precious for him to make a mistake. 

“I-I want you too,” he confesses his deepest human desires. “Dare I say I need you to function?” 

The android smiles a brief moment before his lips fall. In a line they paint his deeply rooted worry. It's been eating away for some time. “The thought of you finding another, being with someone else rips apart every one of my emotions. Emotions I am still grappling with on a daily basis but I know.” Connor reaches to scoop up your hands in his. Twining fingers through soft human digits, his gaze softens in complete adoration. He is in love with you. Of this he is more certain than anything in his continual learning. Deviancy means discovering all of those things and he wants to continue with you.

How soft he is only makes your heart flutter more. He can take out a room full of men in three seconds flat with those skills. That wouldn’t take away from his other side, the affectionately sweet side. 

“Well, aren’t you a nervous goose,” a silly tease slips out.

He cocks his head in confusion. That is not one he has heard before. At least not from Lieutenant Anderson but it does not fit something he would say. 

“Y/N, I am afraid that idiom does not quite make sense.”

Your eyes narrow. “Shut off that intelligent brain of yours and cuddle with me to a cheap romcom.”

Some late night cheese flick lit up the TV by the time Hank sneaks back inside. Shutting his door and locking up without losing his damn keys this time sure didn’t prepare for this saccharine bullshit. 

No lights on, you soundly asleep with a head nestled underneath Connor's chin. The android’s arms wove around your sleeping form, his eyes shut as he clearly went into stasis to match your need for rest. 

Hank shakes his head at the lovey dovey shit stuck to his couch. To think that plastic asshole almost turned tail and ran. 

“Guess it went better than expected. Huh, Sumo?” 

Drawing the dog’s attention it's pretty clear. Considering the pair of you a minute, the lieutenant ultimately switches off television and heads for bed.

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