#or maybe this is just a heartless connor moment

[centi-pedve]

this might be bad but we cannot fuck with pro choicers who act like their pro choiceness is something sad but necessary or give it much more weight than it has. like its still taking a life but its justified. like sure we have the same beliefs ultimately but you make us feel mighty weird

[iwonderwh0]

I love Daniel for how in a way he shows what each of the protagonists could have become if things were a little different for them.

What if Markus found out Carl's tales of how he sees him as a family member are nothing but empty words with unexpected discovery of a receipt for a newer version of Markus to replace him? He replaced his human son with Markus before, why wouldn't he do that again to him? In retrospective it'd all seem so obvious, making Markus feel so stupid for ever thinking he's somehow immune to it. Would he feel like taking revenge for such a heartless hypocrisy? Maybe not, but it's not completely off the table.

What if Kara ran away with (human)Alice just to realise that Alice never actually wanted to escape and despite everything loves Todd much more than she'd ever be able to love Kara? Or if Alice had mother she could run away to, leaving Kara alone to her android faith after reaching her destination. What if upon being confronted with all that Kara realised that she isn't even in the same category as Alice's parents are. That she never was, and it's her fault she made herself believe otherwise.

Connor is literally Daniel tho, and he does in fact realise that he was just a toy in hands of those he loved and whom he trusted. But unlike Daniel, Connor had a plan B. He had those he could run away TO, he personally saw that there is another side to this story, he just has to choose it. Daniel didn't know about Jericho. He didn't know about RA9 either, so he didn't even know there are more androids like him. He had nowhere to go, nothing to hope for. So he did the only thing he felt like made sense in a moment – harmed those who hurt him back. If he can't win, he'll make sure the other side looses too.

[rumor-imbris]

Silence has broken, La Fatina Lunare came back once more!

Just out of curiosity, if you could write a one-shot of your girl Mary and her beloved Connor right now, what would the story be about? Is it set in their timeline? Is it a fantasy setting? Modern AU? If the muses are kind to you now to write a story of them, would you post it or would you keep it to yourself?

Your Fatina Lunare🌙✨ as always embracing sweetly to her little moth friend.

My sweet Lunar Fairy!! My damsel of light, Giulietta <3 I missed your asks so terribly! You are most welcome here again!

First thing first, sorry for answering so late... but working on an audiobook is literally draining me all, it's so hard and time-consuming, also so much details and editing needs to be done at any moment... uffh... and hot weather doesn't help!! (You know how much I hate it!)

Now, I'll stop complaining and answer your fantastic question. So, let me think... A one-shot... mmhh... I think it would be something I had in mind a little while ago, about Connor and Mary saving a group of native and black young women sold by some Templar scoundrels to be wives (well, better say maids and sexual slaves) for new settlers heartless men coming from all over Europe and Great Britain. Also, during this mission Mary would have her left knee seriously injured, but she would think herself relieved for having saved all of the girls from that horrific traffic, no matter the high cost! It would be set in the early '90s of the 18th century; and I think Baltimore would be a nice background, a great stop-over for the Aquila!

To be honest, if I ever write this down (and remember I still want to write my historical AU novel, which is still a WIP at the moment!!), I don't think I'll ever post it on here. I don't know... I think people, or my followers in general, don't care much of other things I write, apart from the poems maybe. I mean it could easily go unseen, as it already happened in the past, so... No, I think I would keep it to myself (or for my fairy sis, if she wishes, of course ^_-)

Thank you so much for visiting me Come back soon, I'll always be waiitng for my Giulietta *w*

Love you tenderly

Your little sister Lady Connor

[cheekypriest]

"Commandeering, procuring, stealing... swings and roundabouts, really." He added in the usual wry manner, still revelling in the ability to just be himself and not be scorned for his manner or the words that came out of his mouth. Admittedly, he wasn't one to worry too much about what other people thought about him, it would make his job rather difficult given the expectations and labels some people put on him without ever giving him a chance, so finding that he was also rather cheeky on top of it all might be a little too much for certain mindsets to handle. Not with Connor though, it still delighted the middle-aged man that someone could take his mischief with such ease and even return it as though the pair of them were balancing on the exact same wavelength. Maybe they were, it felt as though they'd know one another for years not mere hours, able to so effortlessly bounce ideas and conversations off one another, delve into debates that would quickly turn into arguments with other members of the public.

To find someone who was level-headed, quick-witted and yet housed an open mind seemed like something of a rarity these days, but apparently, James had found a needle in a haystack -- - and a rather sharp needle at that.

He imagined some would see him as a sentimental old fool, an old romantic, already toying with a myriad of ideas and places where he could take the younger man all around the world. Rome, the place he now called home, take him to all of his favourite little coffee shops where the pair could enjoy some of the best coffee money could buy over some sort of delightfully delicious pastry for breakfast, or northern England where he'd grown up, show him his favourite chip chops, get him to sample the epitome of British cuisine with a smothering of curry sauce on top of chippy chips. Staying with the more mundane, wandering their way through Europe, sunning it up on beaches, taking him to restaurants that James had always wanted to take someone to, someone who brought the place and moment so much more meaning than just lining his stomach. It sounded so blissfully domestic, like something the Brit had always dreamt, the stuff of romantic movies and cliche television dramas of which he'd never imagined he'd be able to grasp for himself.

Was this really what came off letting someone in? All these new possibilities felt too good to be true -- - and maybe they were. As wonderful as it all sounded, there still remained the heavy burden of knowledge that came with James' real understanding of the world. It painted a target on them, put them in the line of fire from every angle and while the northerner was more than accustomed to the ever foreboding feeling, the thought of dragging someone else with him utterly terrified him. He had a lot of enemies, most of them stemming from a rather warm place down below and he wasn't talking about Australia. It was why he'd stayed single for so long, always holding people away at arm's length, to keep them from getting sucked into whatever mess his life would surely bury them beneath. Perhaps literally.

Again, the thought of disappearing still nagged away at him, it was his usual move, if someone did seem as though they were latching onto him a bit too tight, what better way than to vanish entirely and let them think he hadn't a single care. He did care, he wasn't some heartless bastard who wanted to toy with people's hearts and then toss them away like little more than discarded rubbish. But it was easier to let others grow to hate him than to cling to the notion that he might someday valiantly return and welcome them in open arms.

He wouldn't, he couldn't.

But now? He'd never met someone like Connor before, never felt his soul entangle with someone else's in a way that made him crave more, every inch of distance between them like a painful mile as he yearned to hold him close, engulf him in his arms and never let go, never let anyone or anything harm him.

With his hand wrapped around the detective's arm, he'd practically forgotten about the remaining food on his plate, not even the faint aroma sneaking up his nostrils was enough to pull his attention away from the brunette opposite to him, that genuine care shining bright in his soulful eyes. "Deviant hunter? Surprised I haven't appeared on your radar before now..." He joshed a little, that sly smile claiming the warmth that had stretched across his face, that cheekiness never far away. "Maybe I would've cropped up somewhere, given long enough." He added in jest, smirking under his breath as he glanced down, doing his best to keep himself from outright laughing. It was still amusing to think about, how one line of questioning had led to this, that very same evening they were out at a restaurant mentally planning their entire future together. Not that he knew the other was doing the exact same, though maybe he'd clocked onto a few hints of it, Connor's willingness to meet him again, to travel to the UK with him, even go to Rome. It was so much more than he'd have expected of anyone else, so much more real, yet for the first time it didn't feel -- - wrong, to have those thoughts, those fanciful notions.

"For you?" James wondered where the other man wanted to take him after they'd finished their meal, if the Brit was able to garner enough focus to keep going with it rather than staring longingly at the man across from him. The latter proving far more difficult than he'd care to admit. "I'd go anywhere you asked me." Maybe it sounded cliche, or cheesy, but it was the truth. The Englishman wasn't a man easily controlled or puppeteered, he supposed his manner made that obvious in light of his chosen vocation, always something of a rebel the entire way through his life, questioning what he saw in front of him, testing it, pushing the boundaries far beyond the norm, yet there he was, more than willing to do whatever Connor asked of him. Why? Just because he wanted to. "As long as it's not off a cliff. Still got a few years left in these old bones yet and I'd hate to leave this case wide open. Then again, maybe it'd count as unfinished business and I could haunt the living shit out of you." This time he couldn't quite contain his laughter, letting out a low chuckle as a grin claimed every feature of his yet angular aging face. "But seriously, you want to go somewhere, I'll be there... right by your side. No questions asked." That wicked smile returned, eating into the side of his lightly tanned face. "For better or worse."

“Commandeering - that’s a name for it.” The little quip came complete with a cheerful laugh from the younger male. There was no harm to it, as the both of them well knew, as it was a dig towards a shared ancestry. The detective was certain that his own family hadn’t ventured across the pond for centuries, but the longer James spent with him, the greater the desire to be the first to change that. He wanted to take that leap, excited over the pleasant imagery running through his mind which represented a possible & desired future. Connor wasn’t one for bars or particularly lively spaces, but that all consuming want to let loose & allow somebody else to take complete control lingered, magnified as their conversation continued. He imagined unanticipated little thrills provided by a man who held surprisingly firm to his youth in spite of the grey creeping into his hairline, destinations which were both blessedly mundane & exotic at once, & late nights spent filled with pleasures of the body & hushed exchanges of intellectualism.

All of it, every bit sounded marvelous to the detective. He wondered if he might have a chance to meet James’ family, if the man were so inclined, or if the priest might introduce his younger companion to his friends. He must have had some that still remained in his hometown, those whom had never left. Much like Connor, himself. True, he was technically from a suburb just north of the city proper, but he & his brothers had been born in Detroit. Most people didn’t usually leave the place they were from, often choosing employment & taking up residence close to family. He supposed James was the exception, though Connor had yet to broach the question of why. What made the priest choose to devote himself to the church? To become an exorcist, whatever that specifically meant in this modern age.

He might have asked, but the naughty old priest had him easily distracted with culinary chatter & conjuring up delectable visuals of making the pretty detective into a savory meal of his own. As it was, if James kept looking at him that way, with those charmingly beautiful eyes staring into his soul, Connor would have happily let him put that smirking mouth of his anywhere he liked. The enthusiasm towards a private liaison in a confessional seemed to be a mutual one, though Connor wondered if it would have been James’ first time trying something so brazen. Intuition told the detective that it was, & that made it all the more exciting. Already a little flustered in the best of ways, the small instances of playful chastising had Connor smiling that sweet, shy smile of his as color bloomed against his cheekbones. The priest certainly knew just how to get to him, draw elation & intrigue from the younger man so perfectly, one might have again played with that musing of soulmates. As though they had always known one another, that interest was uncompromising, desire unwavering. Connor felt himself tugged towards James, his every thought beginning & ending with the priest since the two of them had met.

It was a little frightening, wanting someone this badly, wanting to be with them, in their presence, after only such a short amount of time. It was something more powerful than himself & Connor wanted to see where it took him. It was the reason he questioned his date on his intentions for the future, as he worried this might be something fleeting. That fear threatened to crush him, & a slow realization overcame that warned this was all too fast. But when James’ sultry manner shifted into somber sincerity & that hand reached to touch, resting upon his forearm, Connor couldn’t force himself to fight that subtle yet powerful gravitational pull. He saw the change in James as those simple questions sunk in like a lead weight, forcing him to confront something in himself that had yet to come to light. He saw guilt, perhaps even regret. But regret for what? Had his assumptions been accurate after all? The priest said that his continued presence ‘depended’, but not on what. There were speculations of further spiritual unrest within the congregation, something else pertaining to the Moore case that hadn’t been addressed. Things outside of the detective’s usual wheelhouse, likely something he wouldn’t understand.

He wanted to ask, but that touch compelled him in another direction & suddenly he was brushing all of his theories aside to give James all of his attention. Only passively interested in food in the moment, he set his fork down & reached for his hand, taking it into a gentle yet firm grasp. That sorely missed connection restored, Connor felt a little bit better. Still, the promise not to disappear on him like a ghost in the darkness failed to quell the ache centering in his chest when Connor could see that his companion was holding back. James was keeping something from him, protecting him with ignorance, as if to know would be such a burden upon him. Things the detective ought to leave alone, contradictory to his eager & curious mind. There was a brief contemplation, a moment of eyes locked in which the younger man wanted to press James for more information, coax a confession out of him as he had before. But pushing him wasn’t going to accomplish anything. This wasn’t an interrogation. The end goal wasn’t to ascertain a guilty party. He just wanted to keep this man close, keep James all to himself.

Was that desire childish when it was so obvious that James wanted him just the same?

“You better not,” he teased, a smile finally cracking his fretfully stoic exterior. “I wasn’t promoted this young because I’m just a pretty face. They don’t call me ‘deviant hunter’ for nothing.” A sly nod to his own impressive capabilities, as well as a hint of intention implied, served up with a cheeky wink. Still just a little somber, as that smile slowly grew wan, difficult to maintain. Connor wasn’t above doing a little detective work to track the man down if he did end up ghosting him. Absolutely deplorable, never something he had envisioned himself doing before, but this was different. This thing between them felt real - Connor longed so deeply for something true, for someone all his own. He wasn’t going to let go that easily.

His gaze fell towards their joined hands, lean digits moved to caress at knuckles, a warm palm, finally lacing their fingers once more. This felt better. It felt right. He stared a long moment in pensive introspection, & his visage reflected his inner thoughts. He could picture spending a few months gallivanting around Europe with this man, hopelessly & sublimely lost in a foreign culture with this single point of familiarity to ground & guide him. In equal measure, he could have spent forever at James’ side, or however long he would have him. He didn’t care if it was selfish. He had spent most of his life selflessly devoted to others; to strangers, family. It wasn’t out of the question to want something for himself. Pearly teeth worried the edge of his bottom lip, free hand softly drumming fingertips against the table’s surface beside his plate. 

Contemplative. Finally, he looked at James with shy, wanting eyes. “When we finish here… can I show you something?” A location that held meaning to him, one that he hoped might help cement a fondness for the city in James, & in turn, the boy who resided there. Somebody who would wait for him, who would crave his company & yearn for his return. “There’s a place we could go for a walk by the water, if you don’t mind the cold. I promise that it’s worth it.” By evening the view would be spectacular, though admittedly, there was an ulterior motive. Between the specifics of the case & the mild emotional anxiety that came with dating & the revelations therein, the detective needed a cigarette. He hoped that his date wouldn’t mind.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Dear Evan Hansen

You may have seen some ~online discourse~ about the film Dear Evan Hansen, an adaptation of the 2016 Broadway musical, and you might have wondered what all the hubbub is about. I mean, it’s a feel good story about a senior in high school, Evan Hansen (Ben Platt), who has some pretty severe anxiety and depression. While trying to fulfill an assignment from his therapist to write a letter to himself, his letter gets picked up by another student, Connor (Colton Ryan) - and later that day, Connor kills himself. Connor’s grieving parents and sister Zoe (Amy Adams, Danny Pino, and Kaitlyn Dever) are desperate to learn more from the boy they think was Connor’s best friend - after all, Connor’s suicide note was a letter addressed to “Dear Evan Hansen.” And, as you can imagine, Evan tells them about the unfortunate mistake and sits with them in their grief as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives. 

Just kidding! He lies to them, repeatedly, elaborately, expansively for months, constructing an entire false friendship with Connor that never happened, and ingratiating himself into the wealthy nuclear family he never had, in large part because he wants to get into Zoe’s pants! THIS IS THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY. Oh, and it’s a musical so there is a lot of singing and crying and singing WHILE crying and sometimes crying and not singing at all. But the #inspiration, you guys. 

Things I liked:

Pretty much everything but the story and Ben Platt’s performance. The supporting cast is stacked, and all of them do a great job at elevating material scraped directly out of a diaper worn by someone who just chewed their way through a copy of the DSM-5. 

A couple of the songs are damn catchy - “Waving Through a Window” and “You Will Be Found” are standouts for a reason - and here’s the thing, Platt sings them well. But as you’ll discover, there’s a lot more to a movie musical than just singing your part. 

Stephen Chbosky, the man behind every deep thought I and a lot of people in my generation had in 2006 after he wrote The Perks of Being a Wallflower, is a pretty good director. I particularly enjoyed the fanvid-type cuts in “Waving Through a Window” in conjunction with the lyrics, and his use of interstitial shots to flashbacks (and sometimes flashforwards!) is a neat little bit of shorthand that I thought was used sparingly enough to be effective. 

Amy Fucking Adams. She’s holding on so hard, so desperately to the idea of who her son could have been, rather than the reality of who he was, and she is full of such deep pain that is masked by an almost endless supply of patience with Evan and relentless positivity. All this made me want was Enchanted 2 even worse than I already did. 

Super into everything Zoe wears - the costuming department did a great job, and now all I want to do is live in mom jeans and baggy sweaters.

Did I Cry? I teared up a couple of times because I’m not a completely heartless bastard and when Amy Adams offered Evan Connor’s college money, my heart broke for the lie Evan had thrust upon her, and Julianne Moore’s song got me good, because she’s just a single mom to Evan who is doing her goddamn best. 

Things I hated more than the time I dropped a frozen gallon container of fruit cocktail on my pinkie toe in my parents’ garage and it turned black and I thought it was gonna fall off:

Ben Platt is 28 years old. He originated the role of Evan Hansen on Broadway, so in many respects it makes sense that he plays the role in the movie, except for the one kinda sorta important thing where he looks like a wizened old crone standing amongst a sea of children doing his best twitching, cringing Hunchback of Notre Dame impression. If you want someone to convincingly play 20 years their junior, hire Paul Rudd. Otherwise, please don’t ask me to believe that this supposed 18-year-old has crow’s feet. 

And that twitching nervous energy is a huge part of the black hole at the center of this film - he’s playing to the cheap seats and walking through the halls of his high school like a wet chihuahua. It’s an excruciating acting choice to watch - he doesn’t just have anxiety, he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown seemingly every second of every day. Like honestly, where is only-mentioned-never-seen Dr. Sherman, because this young man’s meds are NOT WORKING DR. SHERMAN. 

There’s such a lack of self-awareness on behalf of the writing, directing, and performance by Platt. There’s one song, “Sincerely, Me,” that offers the only glimpse of commentary about what Evan is doing, by pointing out the malicious ridiculousness of him writing a series of fake emails as proof of his and Connor’s friendship. 

Also what high schoolers email this much?? I know this was written in probably 2014 or so, but has a bitch never heard of a text? Even a DM? This whole plot is constructed around the premise that high schoolers are just constantly, constantly emailing each other. 

Everything - and I mean EV-ER-Y-THING - about Evan’s relationship with Zoe is so creepy and disturbing that with a soundtrack change, this could easily be a horror movie. He attempts to get her to like him by describing to her all the things her brother noticed about her - oh wait, I’m sorry, all the things HE noticed about her while he was skulking in the shadows following her around for years, watching every move she made, and it ends with him singing repeatedly “I LOVE YOU” because following a girl around and never having a conversation with her or knowing her at all is love, right? This was clearly written by the same people who chose “Every Breath You Take” as their wedding song because Sting is hot and they never actually listened to the damn words. 

And it gets about 10 billion times worse when Zoe goes to Evan’s house alone, takes him up to his room, and sings “I don’t need reasons to want you” and that was the moment I was that person I hate in a movie theater and I pulled out my phone to Google who wrote the music and lyrics to the musical (we were in the back row of the theater no one was behind me THIS WAS AN OUTRAGE EMERGENCY) and of motherfucking course it was written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, 2 men who heard about meeting an actual human woman from a friend one time but otherwise are unfamiliar with the concept. 

Lastly, enormous serial killer vibes from Evan sending unlabeled flash drives anonymously through the mail with no note in an attempt to right his wrongs. That’s not catharsis, that’s how the next installment in the Saw franchise starts, with Evan in a Billy the clown doll mask showing up on the screen and asking if you want to play a fucking game. 

Also, I know it’s not possible for the narrative to justify this in a way that could be satisfying based on Evan’s actions, but what is with this thing where single working-class mom Julianne Moore is turning down rich people’s money for Evan to go to college? Like, obviously we can’t have that happen in the movie but in real life, fuck your pride! Take those rich people’s money!

I also know how movies work but nothing annoys me more than a giant group of high schoolers all getting beeps and boops to indicate text notifications all at the same time because I don’t know a single person under the age of 55 who keeps their ringer on. That shit is on vibrate AT MOST, and I feel like that’s a millennial thing. 

The emotional climax of the film is obviously Evan’s WAY TOO LATE confession, but the idea that it’s prompted by Connor’s family suddenly getting a lot of internet hate is, frankly, laughable. If Sandy Hook taught me one thing, it is that no tragedy is immune from trolls who live only to cause other people devastating emotional pain on the internet. That shit starts day 1. Apparently no one involved in this production has ever been on Twitter?

Also it feels like there should have been a dog somewhere in this movie and there was no dog, so points off for that too. 

Perhaps Dear Evan Hansen isn’t nearly as deep as it aspires to be. Perhaps it’s a morality play, a simplistic message of “Don’t lie, kids, lying is bad!” Major studio movies wrap themselves up with a nice bow at the end so everyone can feel good about themselves and leave with a happy ending, but the moronic cruelty on display here makes that feat feel impossible. We’re left with Evan in an orchard, reading Connor’s favorite books and staring into the big blue sky with all the self-actualization he’s earned now as a lil treat. And if Evan Hansen looked like an actual 18-year-old, it would be a lot easier to extend more empathy to him and his not-fully-developed prefrontal cortex, but it’s a little harder with this fully-grown, weathered man who was old enough to remember seeing Liar Liar in theaters. 

Dear Evan Hansen, 

Get some actual help and a haircut and maybe you can grow up enough to have an actual healthy interaction with any other living person, ever.

Sincerely, 

Me

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[fandom-necromancer]

The Storm on the horizon Part3

Whoop whoop, now to the last (?) part!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 [Part1]   [Part2]

‘The man hates me, Connor.’ The older RK had a hard time standing in front of Nines and trying to persuade him to accompany them. ‘He hated me too’, he tried again. ‘And I have basically your face, so he will manage.’ ‘Connor, I’m literally the unit that tried to kill him!’ ‘You are not! You have been, now you are deviant, and I highly doubt you are trying to kill anyone right now.’ Nines sighed and stared at the wall, keeping his thoughts to that inside. ‘Listen, Connor, all that matters to me is that he is save again. So, don’t waste time here and go already.’ ‘Okay, idiot, then I’m going to defeat you with your own weapons!’, the RK800 announced. ‘You found out who the car belongs to, when it had been stolen. You discovered who stole it. You managed to find that person and their location. You found out they recently relocated to a different one. You got us the blueprints, the access to surveillance cams and reason enough so we can enter the perimeter without the need for a warrant. You calculated where they most likely keep Gavin and how they would disperse their guards. You know everything about this having spent night and day at this desk. Now, don’t you think with all this information you would be far better suited to get him out of there? Safe?’

Nines glared at Connor. ‘Yes, brilliant idea. I will go rescue him, so he screams the moment he sees me and tries to get away from me at all costs in a building full of Cyberlife agents. I couldn’t think of a better plan.’ ‘Then at least come with us to guide us. You can keep an eye on my location and account for any changes to your calculations.’ Nines sighed. Unfortunately, he had no arguments against that. ‘Fine.’

-

‘A guard in your area is taking a smoke break right now’, Nines told Connor through their connection. He was sitting in a van next to multiple screens that were connected to CCTV. ‘You should have it easier traversing the corridor now, what do you see?’ ‘Two persons standing at the entrance. I can’t use it’, was Connor’s answer. Nines nodded. ‘Is there a door on your right?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Take that one, down the stairs. There should be a logistics tunnel from the receiving department that takes you to the main hall.’ ‘Alright. Do you see what I see?’ Nines switched to their internal connection and let the surveillance cameras be for a moment. ‘Yes. What is it?’ ‘I would say some sort of alarm. They prepared for someone using the tunnels.’ Nines took control of Connor’s visuals and zoomed in. ‘It doesn’t look that new. If they recently relocated here, there shouldn’t be that much dust. I’ll check if the building still has access to the network.’ ‘Be quick with it’, Connor complained, nervously waiting next to the door. The two guards in the corridor seemed to remain there, but the one on smoke break could actually turn out to be a problem if he came back.

He waited for quite some time, until he heard a door slam. ‘Nines, people are coming.’ ‘I know, we are connected.’ ‘I know, you have to hurry!’ ‘I know! Open the door, it’s safe.’ ‘You sure?’ ‘They are coming, open the goddamn door!’ Connor followed the order and was quickly closing the door behind him, as Nines urged him to freeze: ‘Wait! They are talking.’ Connor stopped and listened.

‘What a heartless bastard. Isn’t he his brother or something?’ ‘Think so, else the boss wouldn’t keep him alive.’ ‘And he still doesn’t agree? I’d think the life of my brother was more important than keeping dirty company secrets safe. Isn’t that what all these rich assholes do anyways?’ ‘Hey, don’t ask me. Only thing I know is we have to beat up that cop some more soon.’

‘They are talking about Reed!’, Nines triumphed. ‘That means he’s still alive.’ ‘Yeah, let’s hurry so it stays that way’, Connor mumbled. ‘Down the stairs and then?’ Nines continued to lead Connor through the building. Connor traversed the tunnels and came up the other end of the building undetected. From there Nines directed him further up some stairs until they reached a series of old labs. The building had been one of the earliest Cyberlife development buildings, back when the company hadn’t been able to build glamourous towers and shiny stores at every corner. The equipment looked accordingly. The assembly platforms didn’t look as sleek and more archaic. Nines shouldn’t have felt anything looking at them, but through his connection with the other RK, he realised they both were on about the same level of creeped out. Still Connor looked in every lab, until detecting activity in the next room. He quickly hid in the adjacent lab and listened for any word ebbing in.

‘You will convince Kamski to delete all evidence of my involvement!’ It was not difficult at all to listen in on the screamed sentence. ‘Phck off.’ The sound of something wet hitting the ground became audible. Then a muffled hiss: ‘You can beat me up all you want, you can only loose.’ ‘I could kill you.’ ‘You weren’t successful when you had your robot-marionette doing the dirty work for you. If you kill me now you only get more years added to your sentence. Do you really want that?’ ‘Do you think anyone cares about you dying?’ ‘Yeah. You would have the most powerful man of Detroit against you. And the police will be pissed. Not because of me, but you killed a cop, that’s really not the way to go.’

By now Nines had analysed the voice that was talking to Gavin and the file coming up in his HUD made him freeze in anger momentarily. ‘Connor?’ ‘Yes?’ ‘I am sorry to have been that difficult to convince accompanying you. Please, go in there and give this man the beating he deserves, or I will come myself.’ ‘What?’ ‘He is alone and the one that hired these mercenaries, some are old Cyberlife security. They won’t do a thing when you got their leader.’ ‘And why should I beat him up? That’s out of question.’ ‘Then just get him and Reed out of there.’

Connor nodded and exited the lab, drawing his gun and jumping into the next. ‘DPD, freeze, hands up and three steps back from the man!’ He took in the shocked man standing there in neat clothing, a bit dusty from where he had knelt next to Gavin, who was lying on his stomach on the ground. He seemed to momentarily think about running for it, but Connor blocked the only entrance and they were on the second floor, so jumping out of the window wasn’t the best idea. Defeated, the man lifted his hands and let himself be handcuffed. Then, Connor turned to Gavin, who was trying to stand up on his own. His face was swollen and bloody, but there was a crooked grin, too. ‘See? Told you, police would be pissed.’ ‘Can you walk?’, Connor asked carefully helping him up. ‘Yeah, think so. How did you find me?’ ‘I’ll explain later’, Connor grimaced and took the handcuffed man by the arm, pulling him with him.

Nines continued to direct them through the wings, while SWAT stormed the building now that the hostage was secure and soon after, Connor arrived at their base, leading Gavin to a waiting ambulance first, planning on taking care of the man responsible for all this later. Little did he know, Nines had changed his mind on staying the hidden person behind the operation and suddenly appeared next to them, pushing the man against the side of the ambulance. Gavin flinched seeing Nines and stayed tense seeing the android press his arm against the man’s throat. The paramedic looked at Connor in shock, but he held up a hand to keep them from intervening. He would have a far better chance at that should it be necessary.

From what Gavin could see of the man’s face, he looked equally terrified seeing the android as he himself had been faced with his nearly-murderer in Fowler’s office. ‘No! Please! Help!’ Nines narrowed his eyes and immediately the man went dead silent. ‘I would shut up if I were you.’ ‘Nines, what-‘ But the RK900 lifted his index finger up at Connor to keep him from talking. ‘You know who I am?’ The man nodded terrified. ‘Then you know what you did to me, don’t you?’ Gavin saw how his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, staring at Nines wide-eyed. ‘If I had known it was you in this building, oh trust me, I would have personally come to get you, regardless of this human’s feelings. And I might have forgotten I am a cop when seeing you…’ ‘Nines!’, Connor interrupted. ‘That’s enough. If he pisses himself, I won’t be the one to drive him to the precinct! Now step back or I have to tell Fowler about what you just did.’

Nines bared his teeth, but nodded and stepped back, glaring at the man until Connor took him away. Then the android sighed, rubbed his face and sat down next to the ambulance. That was when Gavin’s curiosity won over his fear and he dared to ask: ‘What was that about?’ Nines looked up, seemingly having forgotten the human. ‘Oh. Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.’ ‘No! No, I mean… Tell me why you intimidated the phck out of him first.’ ‘He is the one responsible for my… reprogramming. I was supposed to be a soldier unit or maybe a specialised line for FBI or SWAT. He decided I would become a killer instead. A hunter to take out deviants and kill… Well, those like you that knew too much.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘Yeah. It does things to you being deviated and begin your life with blood on your hands you can never wash off.’ Gavin swallowed hard, hastily handing the paramedic that had decided to get back to her job his arm. ‘I… How did the police find me?’ ‘I found you. I got the license plate.’ ‘The car was stolen’, Gavin commented. ‘And? I retraced it until I found this place.’ ‘That must have taken… days. Minimum.’ ‘I did not leave the precinct until today. I owed you.’

‘You- wait. You didn’t leave… The phck?’ ‘I don’t need sleep, Detective.’ ‘Yeah, okay, but I’m just some-‘ ‘-random human?’, Nines finished his sentence. ‘Maybe. But I swore myself when I deviated and realised what crimes I committed as a machine to never allow the death of a human ever again if I can help it. Especially in your case.’ Gavin watched the paramedic bandaging a cut along his left arm for a while not sure what to respond to that.

‘I’m sorry.’ ‘For what?’ ‘For my reaction when we met in the Captain’s office.’ Nines sighed. ‘You were afraid. It was your trauma speaking.’ ‘Maybe, but it wasn’t fair. You suffered too. And you are not that machine anymore, if I understood you correctly.’ ‘I don’t blame you. Fear is perhaps the most intense emotion.’ ‘Yeah, but I do. Hell, I was afraid of Connor too, because he looks similar to you. I learned to accept him. Least I can do is try with you.’ ‘Really?’ Nines looked up to where he sat on a stretcher. ‘You really don’t have to push yourself like that, I already asked for a transfer.’ Gavin looked up to the sky and stretched his neck muscles. With a deep sigh he hopped from the stretcher, much to the protest of the paramedic. He ignored her and stepped towards Nines, who remained seated on the ground. ‘Hell, who knows when that might be… All I see is they still don’t trust androids. Could be a while until you got a new position somewhere else. Until then…’ He stretched out his bruised hand to Nines, who tentatively took it. ‘Partners?’

[sunshinejs]

Yours Only

there’s not as much angst as I hoped bcs I suck, sorry anon :(

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Word count: 2.3k -ish

“We’re so glad to have you over again, y/n” Connor’s mom sighs happily as you were helping her clear the plates after dinner. Connor and Dylan ducked out of the kitchen when their mother announced it was time to clean the dishes and instead went into the living room to play a round of FIFA “It’s nice to have another girl around the house once in a while”

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Brashier” You said shyly as you continued to scrub the dirty dishes “I would’ve come by more often but I’ve just been so busy with uni and I have that musical coming up in 2 months as well so my free time has been taken up by rehearsals”

“That’s right! Connor told us about it” She nodded “I know you’re going to be spectacular, sweetheart. Connor wouldn’t stop telling us what an amazing dancer you are”

You blushed in reply “Thank you so much, that’s really nice of you to say”

“You must be happy to have Connor back home” You said with a smile forming on your face “The house must have been pretty quiet without him, huh?”

Connor’s mom nodded in reply, laughing a little “It gets lonely at times, I’ll admit. Dylan doesn’t give me as much headache as he normally does if Connor’s around. It’s nice to have my boy home again; reminds me that he hasn’t exactly forgotten about us now that he’s traveling around the world with Shawn”

You hang the last plate on the drying rack and turned off the tap “Connor never forgets his family, Mrs. Brashier. He loves you all too much” You reassured as you wiped your hands dry with the kitchen towel.

“I know he does” She smiles “Doesn’t mean that it gets easier every time he has to leave for tour, you know?”

“But he’s home for good now” You insisted “And he’s going back to UCLA pretty soon so everything will go back to the way it was”

His mother paused for a second; giving you a blank look. You caught on to this and your eyebrows furrowed at her reaction.

“Mrs. Brashier?” You called out to her “You alright?”

That seem to snap her back to reality as she asked hesitantly “y/n, honey, did Connor not tell you?”

That question alone seemed to make you more nervous “Tell me what…?” You asked.

You could see the look of hesitation in her face; like she was contemplating on whether to break the news to you or not.

“Connor, he…” She sighs, mentally scolding Connor for not bringing this up to you sooner “They’ve extended his contract for the tour, honey. He’s going to be away from home until right before Christmas”

You were taken aback. Your jaws dropped at the news. You blinked in surprise.

How the hell could Connor keep something big like this from you?

“He is?” You ask in a fragile tone, already hearing the crack in your voice.

Dammit, y/n. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“Honey, I’m so sorry” She said with sympathy and you could hear the genuine tone in her voice “I would’ve thought you knew about this. Connor told me about it last month”

“Last month” You repeated. You were trying your best not to break down in front of her right there and then. This was officially the most embarrassing moment for you. Being a complete idiot in front of your boyfriend’s mother.

“He didn’t tell me anything” You said softly.

She reached out for your hand and rubbed it comfortingly “I think you should talk to him, honey”

You nod and excused yourself from the kitchen.

“Connor?” You called softly from the side as you watched him concentrating on the game they were playing on the TV screen.

Connor doesn’t shift his gaze from the screen as he hummed in response “Yeah, baby?”

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

“In a minute, babe” He answered “I’m really close to beating Dylan this match!”

Dylan smirked from beside his older brother “You wish, dumbass”

You couldn’t take it anymore so you reached out and snatched the controller from his hand, pausing the game. Both boys groaned and Connor was about to snatch the controller from you again when you asked for the second time, but more firmly “Can I talk to you for a second?”

That definitely didn’t sound good.

As you headed for the sliding door that led you to the Brashiers’ backyard, Dylan turned to his brother, whispering lowly “What did you do?”

Connor shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly as he followed after you. Deep down, he was nervous with the tone you were using. You seemed fine when he left you with his mother in the kitchen, why did your mood suddenly change within 15 minutes?

You two sat on swing set and both didn’t speak. There were so many things running through your head right now and you felt like you were going to burst soon.

Connor was the first to take action; resting his hand on your knee “Baby?” He asked worriedly “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

You snapped your head towards him, letting him see the fresh tears in your eyes “What’s going on?” You repeated “I don’t know, Connor you tell me what the hell’s going on”

He frowned “Hey, you’re the one who said we needed to talk. So, talk babe”

“When were you going to tell me?” You questioned “When were you going to tell me that your contract with Shawn has been extended and you’d be away from home until December?”

Connor felt the weird feeling in his stomach. Out of all the things he’d expected for you to be acting weird, this one didn’t make it to the list.

And then he sees the hurt look on your face and he felt so, very guilty for keeping this from you for the longest time.

“Baby…”

“Do I mean nothing to you, Connor?” You asked timidly as you got up from the chair and stood opposite him, with your arms crossed over your chest “Is that why you kept this from me?” Your voice cracked “Because you didn’t think it was important to tell me?”

Connor immediately shook his head as he reached out for your hand but you pulled away before he could “Baby, it’s nothing like that!” He pleaded “Of course you’re important to me, y/n. You’re the most important person in my life, baby but I just didn’t know how to tell you…”

“So, you figured it was better that I found out from someone else?” You retort “What exactly were you waiting for? Were you waiting for me to come by your house for lunch only for your mother to tell me that you packed your bag up and you’re having the time of your life with your new friends?”

He winced at your sass; he knew he fucked up real good this time.

“I was afraid you’d get mad at me for breaking my promise to you” He admitted softly “I promised you before the tour started that I would be gone only until September but when Andrew offered to extend the contract… I just knew I couldn’t say no”

You let out a sarcastic laugh “So, you kept this from me because you thought I’d be that bitchy girlfriend who wouldn’t let her boyfriend pursue his dreams? Do I look that heartless to you, Connor?”

“You know what, if that’s what you really think of me then maybe I was wrong about you, Connor Brashier” You continued to rant, getting angrier at him “I was wrong to think that you knew me better than anyone else”

“y/n, please, I do know you better than anyone else” Connor pleaded. He knew where this was going and he didn’t want his biggest nightmare to happen “Please tell me what I can do to make this better for us”

You shook your head, letting the tears fall down your cheeks “No, Connor” You firmly said “If you can keep something this big from me just because you assumed I wouldn’t support your dreams then maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore”

Connor felt like his breathe hitched in his throat at your words. His vision was getting blurry due to the tears forming in his eyes.

You spun on your heels and headed for the door. You felt defeated. Like you lost everything by saying those words. It hurt you but it needed to be done.

Connor got up from his spot and took large strolls towards you. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and you could hear him sniffle against your shoulder.

“Don’t do this” He said shakily “Don’t end us, y/n”

“I can’t trust you, Connor” You muttered softly “You gotta let me go”

“Give me a second chance” He pleaded “Please, just don’t give up on us, baby. I can’t lose you because of this”

You shook your head and untighten his grip around you. You turned around and took one last look at him “I can’t give you the answer you want, Connor. I’m sorry”

2 months later

“Oh my God, it’s a full house!” You said nervously, taking a peek at the audience gathered in the large theatre hall “I feel like I’m going to throw up”

Amber laughs in reply and rolled her eyes playfully “Babe, you’re going to kill it, okay? You’ve put in so much effort in this musical and we all just know you’re going to be amazing out there”

“Thanks Am” You answered gratefully, turning your head back to the hall; scanning through the crowd.

Amber noticed what you were doing and sighed “Still wondering if he would show up?”

Your head snapped back to her and you had a guilty look plastered on your face “Pathetic of me, right?” You asked sadly “I broke up with him and I still have the audacity to think he would show up for my big night even though he promised he would months ago”

“Oh, honey. It’s not pathetic” She said with sympathy “You still love him, y/n. I get it. It’s okay to still love him despite what happened; you’re only human”

You shrugged your shoulders sadly “Yeah, whatever, Am. He’s probably in Australia right now. Stupid for me to think he’d be here instead”

“I’ll see you later, okay?” You told her “I’m going to head back to my dressing room”

Amber nodded in reply “Break a leg, babe!” She called out to you.

When you got to your dressing room, you were surprised to find a box of white rosses sitting on top of your vanity.

Your heart starts beating faster as you approached it, only one thing running through your mind.

There was only one person who knew how much you loved white roses. And that happened to be the same guy you were just talking about a few minutes ago.

You picked up the card attached to the box, unfolding it open to find a handwritten message.

I know you probably still hate me right now but I made a promise to you I’d be here for your big night and I don’t want to break anymore promises.

I can’t wait to see you be the amazing dancer you are on stage. Break a leg, sweets and I hope you love the flowers.

All my love,

Connor

You read the message over and over again, trying to register it in your mind. Connor was really here? You’d hope for this but you didn’t think it would actually be true.

Was this a sign that you’ve been waiting for?

And then you heard the voice you’ve been missing, and suddenly you realized this was reality; this was really happening.

“Hi” Connor greeted you.

You turned around to find him leaning against the doorframe, with a small smile on his face. His hair was slightly longer since you last saw him but other than that, he was still the same.

“Hi” You responded “What are you doing here? I thought you were away on tour?”

“I was” He nodded, pushing himself off the frame as he stepped into your room; approaching closer to you “But they understood I had other priorities and let me take a few days off”

You nodded in reply, “Thanks for the flowers” You said shyly “They’re beautiful”

He stood before you and you felt like you couldn’t breathe; forgetting how it felt like having Connor so near you after a long time.

“There’s another reason why I came here”

“Oh yeah?” You asked “And what’s that, Connor?”

“I messed up…” He started “I realized I messed up the second you left my house crying and I regretted not chasing after you. I should’ve been honest with you from the start and I should’ve fought harder to make you stay”

“So, I’m here now” He concluded “To make things right with you; to promise you I’m never going to keep anything from you and to keep fighting for you, for us… Because, y/n; I want to be yours, only”

“If you need time, I’ll give you time” Connor said, noticing that you remained silent “We can wait till I come back next month but I’m going to keep waiting for you, baby”

“No”

“No?” Connor’s heart dropped.

“No, I don’t want to wait any longer” You confirmed “You messed up; I got mad, we’re only humans. I don’t want keep doing this because it’s killing me too, Con”

“So,” He hesitantly dragged “We’re okay, now?”

“We’ll take it slow” You reassured with a smile “But we’ll be okay, Con”

“Hey, y/n!” A backstage crew popped into your room “We’re going on soon”

“Be right there!” You called out to him then focused your attention on Connor “I’ll see you after this?”

“You most definitely will” He nods, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek; relieved that he finally could do it “Break a leg, honey”

“Yeah, I’m going to need a different kind of good luck kiss, Brashier”

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like, reblog & hit me with your feedbacks ❤️

x rina

[selfships-in-spanish]

A lengthy response to big accusations that were made of me

Hello everyone.

I’ve been forwarded screenshots of a certain person calling me out publicly after receiving an ask asking specifically about me. And well, the another one with a more meaner message, from them both. So much for no anon hate huh. But since this person (and I won’t mention names) has me blocked, I am literally unable to even defend myself from their accusations. And they made heavy ones with words that shouldn’t be used this lightly.

I decided to make a lengthy response with my own “version” of the events, so before judging me you can also have more info about this issue, about “the other side”. They may not want to stir the pot or create drama, but they did when they decided to say they hold the absolute truth to this and to reconsider if you should follow me without giving me a chance to explain my own side of the argument.

Well, that and openly insulting me. Welp.

I will attach the few screenshots I was able to gather to prove my points. The pictures attached will have a number so you can know what it references. Sadly I do not have more, but I hope those will suffice.

To be honest, this only shows me how they never actually cared about how I felt, even when we were friends. It’s easier to pin everything that went wrong in a friendship to the other side than to listen and recognise what you didn’t do well.

After our argument, I never posted anything related to them, insulting them or nothing of the sort. No tweets, no tumblr posts, nothing. This was something between us two, so I just let the issue die since I didn’t want anyone getting even more hurt because of two adults were unable to fix at the moment. I must admit I thought about contacting them, because I do recognise I worded my thoughts very wrong and I was hurtful and spiteful. I am not proud of that and of what I did and I am sorry for it. I was in a bad place and I directed my anger to them, took it out towards someone, and that is something one must never do. I am deeply sorry for that and I am working on correcting it because I don’t want that to happen ever again.

I recognise the wrong I did. But, as I said, I’m blocked everywhere, so I am unable to contact this person to even say this or talk it out like two civilized humans. I guess it’s better to make a public post and point fingers at me.

But, I’ve been accused of racism, of lying, of misleading and making them give me money, of grooming and corrupting minors, of ostracising people, creating servers, making myself pass as a woc… and I’ve never been more shocked to read all that with my own eyes than I am right now. Because all those accusations, what they say, the intention, is to cut any wings me or my art may have on this site. Art is my livelihood, and by throwing such heavy implications mean losing people, and we all know what that means when you are creative. Cancel culture doesn’t leave room for one to defend themselves, it’s easier to attack, to “consider who you give your support to.” Did I ever go after their head like this? I didn’t, because I am not that kind of person.

Right now I’ve been painted as some heartless monster. When I first started talking out with them, I was intimidated for sure; they were way more popular, got along with the “cool fandom cats” and I was (and still am) a nobody enjoying her little corner with her OC and bazillion AUs people enjoy. I knew they were very vocal with social issues and I was honestly glad that there were people being loud enough for others to hear, but when that was their whole life, that EVERYTHING had to do with social justice, every second spent with them was that same issue, it drained me down. My life was a mess, I was a mess, I was struggling with so many stuff that in that moment I didn’t need a person constantly telling me I was the fucking worst and a demon for almost anything I did or said. I couldn’t speak, my reasonings didn’t hold any importance because I was a white girl. I understood, even if it seems they do not think so, I understood why they were doing it, where they come from, but some days when you are struggling to even keep yourself alive, it was all too much. Being accused of being a racist is A Big accusation and something that shouldn’t be thrown to somebody’s face this lightly.

I do understand that I come from the privilege of being born with white skin. We are in a society, culture and education system that reinforces the racist behaviour, but it is also something us all are fighting against. We are not okay with racism, we want racism to end and that starts with acknowledging your own privileged ass. And I do, my boyfriend got stopped more than once in airports because he has tan skin and brown hair, easily mistaken for someone from middle east in the eyes of an ignorant. I do know it, but making me a monster doesn’t help it. Being constantly told that you are white scum (actual words if I recall correctly), aggressive tweets telling that all white people are vile and shouldn't be allowed anything, doesn’t help (1). I know what it sounds like, but becoming what you are fighting against only makes you become a bully yourself. I will always try to use my privilege to give poc a voice for them to speak and make their issues known. I’m still learning, I’m still unlearning what our society and culture has grinded down on us, but I’m making the effort to not be a white racist cunt like society expects me to.

I come from people who have been oppressed. Spain has a history of oppressing anyone on their path (colonialism, anyone?), and my people were part of it. We still cry for our freedom, and my grandfather and parents can vividly remember and tell you of how the Facist Spanish government would come in the night, take people and execute them to god knows where, because we still don’t know where our dead are. Until recently, Spain still had the fascist dictator in a mausoleum where people could come to pay homage to! Our culture, our language… everything was prohibited and on the verge of being wiped out from earth. So yes, I understood what struggles can other cultures and people face. Not the wholeness of it, because of course there are differences, but I can understand to a certain degree.

Does this mean I hate ALL spaniards because some do hate us catalans for who we are and where we come from? Absolutely not. So how could they say that because of me they hate all white women? Why do you make me the sole cause of your internalised problems? What about your white friends? You hate them too? Learn. Grow. 

So, when they accuse me of lying about being woc, of not correcting them and misleading them when they thought Spain was full of poc people, when I explicitly said in more than one occasion, that I am NOT a woc, I am a spanish white girl and that Spain is in Europe, I was truly shocked to read that with my own eyes. If your educational system failed so bad on you, don’t accuse me of it. We all have google and we all can look where X country is placed. So I’m genuinely baffled that someone is pointing fingers at me for not correcting them and making themselves the victim when I did correct them. If they listened or not, is another matter. If they assumed something and expected me to know they assumed it… how would I even know?

I have never created a discord server in my whole life. I joined one (we all got those never-ending lists of discord servers you joined), but never created it. If people created one aside the previous discord where me and the person were in, that must be for some reason. Or not at all! Maybe some people get along better and decide to have their own chat so they don’t clog or make the other server members feel bad or weird. But, putting me as the whole “ringleader” of this all? Do you seriously think I got that kind of power over people? I’m a fucking nobody! I made some friends, true, but never ever encouraged them to do anything or obligated them to follow me. On the contrary, I joined other people. I never did anything of the sort! I got other friends besides this person, many other internet friends where we share discords, but I never created or instigated anything. In fact, I’m quite the opposite, I always lurk in the shadows minding my own damn business and not raining on anyone’s parade.

And linking on the whole discord servers, corruption of minors and grooming. How sick do you have to be to accuse me of that? Are you even conscious of what an accusation you are making? Understand what an uncomfortable position you are putting me in, of having to defend myself from those accusations, whether the claim is true or not. It’s a very heavy one to make and forces the accused party to go defensive, like it or not. You publicly said I’m a groomer as someone says it’s a sunny day. Just, what the hell is wrong with you? 

Who is that minor? Where is that NSFW art you claim? Because I do not recall any NSFW art being gifted at me from a frigging’ minor. The only person I’m thinking about never, ever, drew NSFW. Ever.  And the only person who did draw a NSFW picture of Ona and Connor, was a friend who was an adult. Also, when will you stop putting words in my mouth I didn’t say? Is it just to justify your anger towards me and keep painting myself as the heartless cunt and you the poor victim?

We never forced any NSFW content on those minors the person says, and the person who accuses me of this, even created a 18+ channel where all minors were excluded. But before that? That discord didn’t have one and spilled the NSFW on the general chat. Even the accuser spilled NSFW on a channel where a minor was present, but god forbid! I am the corrupting one! We only talked NSFW stuff in there dedicated 18+ channel and I don’t recall actively participating in it. 

And, if we all recall it also, because I’m sure all of us who were in the discord do, there were mods there to prevent and do what their name says, moderate a chat. But instead of that, when one of us who talked about something NSFW in the general chat, the mod came over and said something along the lines of “i’m in public i don’t want to see nsfw when i enter the gen chat”. Then left.

1) It’s on the mod to keep NSFW things in the NSFW chat, and if they feel they need to enforce the rule with an iron fist, they do it. Instead said mod just moaned about it and did absolutely nothing. The affected parties apologised and made a conscious effort to keep the NSFW in its rightful place. Sometimes you may get carried away in a conversation and realise too late it was in the wrong place. It happens, you apologise and transfer the comments or continue the conversation in the right channel, deleting the old comments.

2) Said mod is unable to handle stressful situations, and when there’s a feud between users in the discord server, the mod decides to leave the discord for days, leaving the issue unattended.

Everyone has their right to self-care, but being a mod means you have to deal with such situations. If you are not fit, say so and there will be someone else to do it. No worries. But don’t come to complain about certain people behind their backs and face the issues.

Why am I the sole target of this, when in this case we were all to blame? Including the person who is targeting me in their call-out post, even more when they also talked about NSFW in the general chat, but the mod did not complain about it. Guess why? Because they were best friends. Which is another point to this all. The blatant favouritism in the discord chat.

As I said more than once already, it is totally okay to get along better with other people, it is natural and not something to fret over, but when your “getting along” means disregarding some people and only blindly listening and waiting for said people to follow your every whim? How they are able to hide their heads under their wings instead of facing the issues, even more when people are getting hurt by it? I’m not speaking for myself this time, but for people who was in there and left the server. It was there, they knew the favouritism over some people, and chose to ignore the damage they were doing by tearing the discord apart in two sections.

But, don’t you realise, person who is accusing me, what you just accused me of? The implications in it? For heaven’s sake, I even told this person about how my ex best friend was fucking a goddamn minor and I told her to rethink her whole fucking life. I was disgusted by it, talked several times with her to discourage her from doing that and even seek help, but instead she crossed me out from her life and demonised me. I am fucking disgusted. So, someone accusing me of such things, even knowing part of my past and life…?

How fucking dare you?

Also, how fucking dare you LIE about giving me a website? Paying for it? This person never did. I was planning on it on my own, when I got a job where I could pay for one, but they never once in their life bought me a website. They offered it? Surely, but I never told them to yes, pay for it right now. I always feel so fucking bad when people buy me stuff or give me money, and I never wanted them to do so under any obligation. And they never did, never explicitly told them so. A website was an objective I had as an artist, an illustrator, and I voiced such objectives with them as you would talk about your ambitions to a friend. But I guess I was wrong and they took it as ammunition to throw shade at me. But they did not buy it and I did not explicitly ask her to buy me one. Period.

And keeping on the money topic, they did donate money on my kofi, I think it was 9$ or 10$? I can’t remember right now, but you can look at the message if you’d like. But how sick and wicked do you have to be to emotionally BLACKMAIL people because you were such a saint and donated to someone who didn’t have a job at the time and was struggling in paying anything? How can you boast about how you donated money to someone who was in need of it, and then expect “I’m a good person points” for it? You donate to someone or something because you believe in them or the cause, because you genuinely want to help someone, but not to use it later to make the person you donated to feel bad after an argument. That is something seriously shitty to do. If I’ve donated money, I don’t expect eternal gratitude or the person I gave money to swear their loyalty to me. They are not in my debt. I gave them my money because I wanted to. I wasn’t expecting anything in return.

They talk about ostracising them, but in fact, it’s quite the other way. They created their own clique, which okay, it is fine, as I said earlier, everyone gets along better with some other people and that is fine. But when it gets to the point where the only important voices, the only ones that matter, are the ones in your own clique, and that any other voice who disagrees gets thrown under a bus? They said they supported everyone in the discord chat, but truth be told, they only supported what interested them. 

They talk about the Notre Dame cathedral burning (2). I will speak for myself, but I was angry that they celebrated the burning of an artistic reference of a certain architectural style, a true exponent of it. I was angry because art was burning, and I was as angry and deeply saddened when the National Brazilian Museum burned too, because countless of art and knowledge of civilizations that were long gone were burned, to never be known again. You cannot celebrate the burning of art and culture, no matter where it comes from, and even less when you got a friend who is also deeply rooted to France itself. No “oopsie daises” will fix the fact that you said you were happy the cathedral burned down in front of a french person who was mourning the loss of a symbol of his culture.

But, as soon as those of us who got offended voiced those feelings, their excuse was that “it was just a joke”, which they also like to exclaim is an abuser and bigot tactic. How can you joke about that? Even more knowing that you got Europeans and even French people in your discord? How little do you regard your supposed friends feelings?

For example: someone says something racist, then people get mad. Then the person who said the racist thing defends themselves by saying it was just a joke.

Perplexing, right?

I just got one question for you. Did you ever think about how me, about how we all felt, when we also told you multiple times we weren’t liking where you were going? When we tried to talk to you about such issues, and you just lectured people instead of listening, trying to cover your ass? How many times we tried to fix everything up? Because we all make mistakes, we all think we have the absolute truth, but sometimes we don’t and it takes a great deal of willpower to apologise for those. It wasn’t that hard to get off the high horse and listen. If your white friends are hurt by you, stop and think as to why, instead of saying “good”. They are supposedly your friends, not your enemies. I told you you were becoming what you fought against for.

I was aggressive, I was angry, I was rude. And I do want to apologise to you for handling my feelings wrong. But you never gave me a chance, even less listen to a white spanish girl who you thought was a poc because you assumed things when I said in more than one occasion that I was European and Spanish and white. You jumped to the train when you saw a non-pasty white OC in the community. You yourself told me you were happy and gleeful to see my OC, which made me happy that it brought you joy. And now? Were those all lies? You lied to me for what purpose? What did you gain in getting close to me, as far as you saying two peas in a pod, to now disregard all that, thrash talk about my art, my OC whom you LOVED and praised, just because you’re hurt and angry at me and never, ever, dared to come after me in private, even if it was to yell at me? Never took my own feelings in mind because I was a white girl and thus I do not deserve empathy at all? And after a goddamn year?

But I guess it’s easier to paint me as a monster in public than try to talk things out, knowing where you could find me. Also it’s easier to accuse people of your problems than seeking out help to solve them. I admit I was immature in my execution of wording out my feelings, but that does not invalidate me or discredit me or the reasons pointed out. And it also doesn’t give you enough reason to call me a cunt publicly, besides more insults and truly hurtful things to my integrity and self. I thought better of you, but I guess you disappointed me on that, too.

Any of you who read this, first of all THANK YOU for sticking for so long. Feel free to do as you please. I only felt I had to at least try to defend myself from such hard and hurtful accusations, even more when I have no room to do so besides writing this out and hope it reaches their hands, in case anyone who wonders what is going on has another pieze of this puzzle. This is a direct attack to me, saying my name and also encouraging people to reconsider if they should be following me, telling my followers what they should do. What are you afraid of, accuser? I never once in my life told people to stop following them because of what little feud we might have. It was between them and me, and they didn’t care to solve it either, letting themselves fester in their hurt feelings instead of talking to me about them or moving on as I did.

Thank you for reading so far, and also thank you for the support you have all given me after all this time. It truly means so much to me that you decided to stick out here with me. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. 

Have a good day.

SCREENSHOTS:

(1)

(2)

[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

[tara-the-quiet-bookworm-2016]

To Love A Killer (Serial Killer! Markus x Simon.) (Chapter Three.)

Authors Note- And here I am back with Chapter Three of To Love A Killer, and yeeeah it’s safe to say that I’m the Queen of Slow Burn. And not even the regular Slow Burn, this is the Slowest of the Slow Burn. And I’m rambling but in this chapter will have not only Simon crushing on Markus something fierce as and various other things. And just so you know this chapter will also include things such as gore and blood and swearing. Followed by mentions of alcohol use, drug abuse, a little bit of violence, and very graphic mentions of you-know-who’s murder victims. So be warned! 

Now that we got this out of the way here is Chapter Three of To Love A Killer, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Three: Just A Crush.

“Thanks for your help today, Simon.” Markus said, smiling down at the blonde man, shifting the brown paper bag filled with books Markus knew he didn’t really need, but if it meant spending more time with Simon he’d buy every single book in the damn store.

“Oh, think nothing of it, it’s what they’re paying me the not so big bucks for.” Simon chuckled, turning to watch as his co-worker Josh ushered out the last of the customers, wishing them a goodnight and offering them a friendly smile before looking to Simon. 

Simon turned to Josh, nodding to him when he saw him gesturing to the clock. Indicating that it was closing time. 

“I take it it’s my cue to leave?” Markus asked, before glancing at the clock above the door. Blinking in surprise Markus noted the time, had he really just spent an hour here doing nothing but chatting up the poor employee?

Turning back to Simon he gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I wasn’t keeping track of the time, I had no idea you were closing soon. I guess I got a little carried away...sorry...”

Simon shrugged, then stifled a yawn. 

Taking that as a sign he should really leave Markus wished Simon a goodnight and turned away. But not before casting a final glance or two back in Simon’s direction. The man in question had turned away from him to collect the last few books that needed to be put away. Stepping out into the seemingly never-ending onslaught of rain Markus headed to his car, putting his new acquired books in the seat beside him as he started his car.

Casting one final glance at the book store Markus smiled. Oh yeah, he thought as he drove into the night, I am definitely coming back here. And with that he disappeared into the night.

“I swear I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so interested in a customer like that, let alone be interested in one enough to sit there and have a conversation with them until it was closing time.” Josh commented, as he sidled up to Simon, who was currently counting the money in his till before either of them could finally, finally go home.

Simon shrugged as he shut the register. “He just seemed like a really cool guy. and it wasn’t like we were swamped with customers.”

“That is true and you got to admit he was rather hot.” Josh said, the corner of his mouth turning upwards as Simon looked to him. “What? You can’t tell me that he wasn’t one of our more attractive customers you’ve ever seen, can you?”

“That he was,” Simon said, removing his name tag and stuffing it in his pocket. “But there is a good chance we’ll never see him again, like many a hot customer before.”

Josh chuckled. “Who knows? Given the way he was looking at you he might come back again.

Simon shook his head, turning his gaze towards the door. “I doubt it, but that is a nice thought.”

“And if he doesn’t I’m sure me, Daniel and every one at home will have to hear you gush about the hot customer for weeks to come.” Josh joked.

Simon rolled his eyes at that. “Maybe...” He muttered, before shrugging. “Shall we head home?” he asked.

Saying nothing more Josh nodded, tugging his jacket on before reaching in his pocket for his keys. “Let’s go home.”

Nodding Simon followed him out of the store, not before shutting the lights off and locking the door. Thoughts of the man swimming through his mind. Simon hoped he would see him again.

***

Today had been a good day. Markus mused, as he unlocked his door, and stepped into his home, and was greeted by the sound of someone rummaging upstairs. If he was any other person who had come home to no doubt possibly find some stranger rummaging around their home he would have ran outside and called 911. Don’t get him wrong, him calling the police was still a possibility but...

“Leo?” he called out, exhausting mixing with irritation as he called out. Followed by silence.

Sighing Markus dropped his bags near the door, shedding off his jacket as he moved further into the house, just as Leo stepped out. And Markus had to suppress the urge to sigh as he took in the sight of his brother. His eyes were red-rimmed and darted all around the room, a sheen of sweat coated his brothers skin. Great, as if dealing with his brother wasn’t bad enough dealing with him stoned was so much worst. 

“H-hey, Markus.” Leo choked out. “I didn’t think you would be back soon, I-I was-”

“Wait, don’t finish that sentence.” Markus said, holding up a hand, cutting Leo off, he was having such a good day and now he was having to deal with this shit, what a way to end it. “Lemme guess you want to borrow money? Or...I guess since you were here when I got home I’m going to assume you were looking for something you could sell?”

Silence was all that greeted him, Leo unable to meet Markus’ eye looked almost sheepish, and was kind of pathetic. Call him cruel, or heartless but Markus was at his breaking point with his older brother, had been even back when Carl was still alive. Hell, there were times when Markus has all but pleaded with Carl to cut ties with him, but Carl he had always been the one with the kind heart. Not that it had even done him any good especially when it came to Leo.  

Hell, Markus was certain that Leo was also to blame for Carl’s dwindling health over the years. And to top it off, there was one final nail in the proverbial coffin for Markus, was when Leo didn’t bother to show up for the funeral.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Leo snapped, after what seemed like forever, his nails scratching at his right arm, red-rimmed eyes glaring daggers at Markus, who merely stood his ground.  “You’re my brother you should be helping me, all I need is some goddamn money is that so wrong?”

Markus was silent. 

“You know I’m...I’m so sick of this all these years you and dad have done nothing but judge me, sorry if I’m not perfect like you or dad, sorry I’m such a goddamn fuck up, now are you going to help me or not?”

“I’m not going to help you, now leave.” Markus said sternly.

And that was all it took, as Leo looked to him, anger shining in bloodshot eyes as he let out an growl and lunged at Markus. Grabbing a hand full of Markus’ shirt Leo pulled back his fist and swung at him, catching Markus in the nose, pain exploding through his nose, causing blood to spill past his lips. 

Snarling Markus pried Leo off of him, his hands grabbing a hold of Leo, slamming him hard against the wall, watching with some sick satisfaction as Leo slid to the ground. But, unfortunately Leo wasn’t one to give up as he got to his feet  and grappled with Markus.

“Leo! Leo! Stop!” Markus yelled, hoping he would manage to get through to his brother before things got really nasty. 

However, his words didn’t seem to be getting through to Leo, so there was only one other choice. Gritting his teeth Markus slammed Leo’s head into the wall, his head hitting the wall with a satisfying crack. The corner of Markus’ mouth turned upwards as he watched as Leo slid to the ground. Turning away from the unconscious form of his brother he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called the cops. 

It wasn’t long before they were hauling Leo away in handcuffs, leaving Markus alone to work on his next project.  Images of his muse as she stared up at him pleadingly flashed through his mind. It was time for him to get to work. Smiling Markus picked up his paint brush and allowed himself to relive that moment he had shared with his muse, splashes of red marring the white of the canvas, the same way her blood had stained her skin and everything around it, he captured the terror in her eyes. And the pain, her face a grotesque ghost of it’s former self.

As he painted Markus wondered how everyone would react to his new line of paintings he had seemed to pump out one after another. What did they think when they looked at his work? Did they see the same thing as he did, terror and pain? Would any of them recognize the woman he portrayed in his art, or did stuff like that go over their heads? Shaking his head Markus placed his painters palette down and took a step back, tilting his head to the side as he admired his work. The corners of his mouth turning upwards, another master piece complete. 

And yet...Markus frowned, he found himself wanting to continue, to work on something else, something that had nothing to do with his muses. And it all had to do with Simon. Worrying at his bottom lip Markus moved to the corner of his art room, and picked up another canvas. Placing it on the easel Markus when to work, his brush flying across the canvas like it never did before. 

Closing his eyes Markus envisioned Simon like he had before. He wanted this to be perfect, like Simon, from those eyes of his to this soft blonde hair and shy smile gracing his face, until... Opening his eyes he found himself looking at his work, it was exactly like looking at the real thing. Nodding to himself Markus placed the paint brush and palette down he looked the picture over, and realized that as much as he loved the picture he knew no one was going to see it. How could he? After all, this was for his eyes only...

***

The Next Day.

They were going nowhere fast. Connor mused, dark eyes fixed on the crime scene photos before him as he worried at his bottom lip, a cup of untouched coffee sitting in his hands as he wracked his brain for answers or anything they might have missed. 

“Five victims in less than two months and we’re no closer to solving the damn case.” Hank muttered behind him. 

“Our killer is meticulous, but that can’t last for long. He has to slip up somehow.” Connor mused, turning away from the murder board, images of woman, ranging from ages twenty to somewhere in their thirties. 

All with various skin tones and hair and eye color, all working different jobs, with different educations. There latest victim had only just enrolled into college to work on a degree in literature. Where as the victim before her, was a high school drop out. So what was his motivation?

“Well, genius any brilliant ideas?” Hank asked, taking a sip of his coffee, blue eyes glued on Connor as the younger detective paced around the room, hand on his chin.

Shaking Connor sighed, reaching into the pocket of his shirt for cigarettes, sticking one between he teeth he promptly lit it before taking a long drag from it. Smoke billowing from his nostrils as he moved around the room once more. 

“You know those things can kill you.” Hank commented.

Connor looked at him from the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth turning upwards. “So will your drinking, Hank.” He countered, earning a chuckle from Hank.

“Yeah, but what won’t kill us?” Hank said, getting up from his seat, and moving towards the murder board, eyes taking in the sight of the murdered women. 

Whoever had done this had made sure to inflict as much pain on the poor women as possible before ending their lives with a quick slash across the throat. Though to Hank that seemed almost unnecessary, as if he left his victims alone they would have eventually die from blood loss. But what captured Hank’s attention was the amount of torture their killer had inflicted on them, and Hank couldn’t help but wonder why?

What could the torture signify? Was he punishing his victims for something they had done? Or could he be someone who got off on causing them as much as possible? Shaking his head Hank turned away from the pictures, but not before looking to the picture of their latest victim. She had been young, full of life and hope, now she started up lifelessly, her mouth sliced open into a gruesome looking grin. Her fingers were missing as if the killer had hoped she wouldn’t be identified that way.

She was nude, cuts littered every inch of her body, along with burns, they had yet to identify what caused the burns but never less whoever was doing this was a sicko. And Hank vowed that when they caught this guy he would make him suffer the very same way he made his victims suffer he could count on it.

Jumping slightly Hank turned around to face Connor, seeing the soft smile on the younger mans face. “We’ll catch him I’m sure of it. But for now how about we call it a night?”

Sighing Hank nodded, moving towards his desk he pulled his jacket on, watching as Connor did the same thing. He noted the dark circles under the kids eyes, this case was eating away at him, the very same way it was eating away at him. After all this had to be one of the most gruesome cases they had ever worked on in the almost two years they’ve worked together. 

And yet, despite all of the horrific shit they’ve seen. Shaking that thought from his head he clapped a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “C’mon kid let’s go grab a drink my treat. You look like you could use one or two.”

Feeling an exhausted smile form on his lips Connor let Hank lead him out of the precinct, leaving the case behind them for tonight. 

***

It was no use. Simon thought as he shut his text book with a sigh, the sound catching his brothers attention. Daniel looked up from his own work to look at Simon, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“Something wrong?” he asked.

Simon shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, the stir fry Daniel had made him sitting untouched on the table where he sat. “No,” Simon said, looking to his brother. “Just having a hard time focusing.”

“Too much on your mind?” Daniel asked.

Simon nodded, and he knew exactly why and it had everything to do with Markus. But why? Of all the customers that he had encountered over the years why did he seem to haunt Simon’s thoughts? He never felt like this before, normally he would have long forgotten about someone long after he was done work. But still images of the man with the mis-matched eyes flitted through his mind, making it hard for poor Simon to focus on studying. 

Sighing again Simon got up from his seat and moved to his room, leaving his text book and his food untouched. Wishing his brother a goodnight he shut the door and moved to peer out the window that over-looked the city of Detroit. He wondered would he actually be able to see him again?

[thesunshinebunny]

Can I be the first to ask for connor from dbh? Maybe srangers to lovers, like the Yurio headcanon you did?!?!?!?!

YESSSSSS!!!! FIRST ONE FOR CONNOR!!!! MY BOY * * ** You saw Connor enter the DPD for the first time just when you were about to leave, trying to rest at home. He stopped for a few seconds to ask about Lieutenant Hank. * When having a simple no as an answer, Connor followed his step inside the station.* The second time you saw him, he was being bothered by Gabin in the break room. * Little fella to the rescue. * “Let him a rest, Reed” * It took your time to make Gavin leave you alone for the fact that, according to him, you had treated a piece of plastic as a human. * A faint to his balls and everything resolved. * “Are you ok, can you stand up?” * For Connor, a minor question, considering that he couldn’t feel pain. * However, he accepted your hand for support. * “Don’t pay attention to that heartless, it’s just a fool who doesn’t hookup since the dinosaurs’s extinguished, ah! I am (y/n) by the way ” * _Software Instability_* 4 o'clock in the morning on November 11 was when things started to get interesting. * Strikes and bumps wake you up with a very bad mood, ready to get the shit life out of the one who had the balls to bother you so early, without being your working day. * You almost pushed Connor by the blades of how strong and abrupt you opened the door. * Accumulated anger vanished at the sight of his wet puppy face. * Your previous feelings were transformed into understanding and tenderness to hear him say that he became deviant. * “I needed to talk to someone, I think the word that humans use is a friend … and I do not think Hank would welcome me with a smile at this time” * “I … Connor” * “Aren’t we friends, (y / n)?” * “… Of course we are”* The next few days passed in an awkward environment. * Connor not knowing how to act with his new identity. * Hank trying to understand and have patience with his new humanized partner. * Gavin bothering and being irritable as always. * And for your part, make all these assholes calm down and let you work.* Once the new identity of Connor was normalized, the moments with him began to be more bearable. * Walk Sumo on weekends. * Daily coffee at your table at your arrival and a grateful smile. * Nights working paperwork with odd jokes. * Conversations about everything and nothing.* Once, Hank, Connor and you had to go on a mission to catch a deviant who had got into drugs trade. * Let me tell you, it was not easy at all. * First, go on covered. * Second, make Connor hide his LED in case he didn’t want to remove it permanently. * Third, locate the deviant, preventing Connor from being discovered as an android. * When they found the supposed guilty, let’s say that things became chaotic. * Persecutions, gunshots, people interposing. * In on moment, you felt like a bullet grazed your leg causing you to slow down. * The next, you had a body covering you. * “Connor … what are you doing? You’re going to get shot ” * “I don’t care if that means I can protect you”* With the investigation closed, the deviant in his cell and a quick check of Connor’s biocomponents, you could say that you were in your right to kill the android. * “ARE YOU STUPID OR IS THERE A CHANGE OF ZEROS AND ONES IN YOUR PROGRAM?” * Not having an answer your fury multiplied, “You could have died!!!” * “I can be replaced, but you can’t” * Boom! straight to the heart. * “If I have to be damaged to protect you, I would do it a thousand times” * Combination of blue and pink blush * “What I’m trying to say … is …” * God! Cyberlife, you could have made Connor stop being so mysterious with his words and talk at once. * The wait was eating you from the inside. * “I think I like you”

[phckingusername]

Rk900

A list of different kind of Nines

If found unactivated in an abandoned Cyberlife tower but not deviant: soft Nines

Hank takes Him in and deviating comes slow but rather naturally in a family setting. Connor has a strong attachment as an Older brother to Nines and insists Nines refer to him that way. Works at the DPD and has a somewhat childlike air to him. Despite being made to replace him Nines looks up to Connor.

Released by Cyberlife and not deviant: Cold Nines

Joins or rather sent (maybe both) to the DPD and partnered with Detective Reed. Hank may be wary of rk900 and how Connor feels about him being here. Rather than curious in the last scenario. He is cold and unmoved, by both Gavin's crap, and by Connor's attempts at friendship. Rk900 almost looks down at Connor, him being a deviant that failed his mission. Connor is quite downcast and disappointed by Rk900's apathy, but still feels that strong brotherly tie to him. Rk900 becoming deviant takes a long time. Something traumatic breaks his walls. And he goes from cold machine to a gushing mess of emotion.

Released or found Denial Deviant: Somewhat neutral Nines.

Technically not deviant. Works at the DPD partnered with Gavin because he always is. Polite but socially awkward, still friendly. Shuts Gavin up with smart and witty comments. Either stays in an apartment or with Hank and Connor. Doesn't understand or feel things, but wants to. Quite grateful for Hank and Connor's kindness and finds himself fond of them. Then tells himself he can't feel he's not deviant. Is scared and would rather stay a machine. To have a clear purpose. But those software instabilities keep piling up. It takes a stressful or urgent event to truly deviate.

Found at abandoned Cyberlife tower and deviant: Soft and sensitive Nines

He's shy and nervous. Quite. Lives with Hank and Connor. He feels small despite his actual size and clings to Connor. Hates being without him. Is upset that people are still afraid and intimated by him. Works for the DPD but believes Connor is better. He is unsure of himself. Others at the station like him but they get along better with Connor. Nines doesn't have that social programming Connor has. Very low selfworth despite Connor telling him otherwise. First time Nines walked into the station for the Job. He held on to Connor's hand. Gavin starts being an ass to him, just letting him have it, really busting his chops. And Nines starts fucking Crying! Gavin is shocked and Hank comes to take Nines away from Gavin. Connor starts yelling at Gavin. Reed really thought, what with how tough Nines looked that he wouldn't be fazed by his words. From then on he either doesn't talk to him unless he has to. And when he does go off on Nines Gavin really makes an effort not to go too far although Nines has thickened his skin from the first time. Puts on this mask of coldness or even bitterness around Reed, he doesn't want Gavin to hurt him anymore than he already has. Nines truly flourishes at home with Hank Connor and sumo.

Found or sent Not Deviant:Spicy Nines

Not as heartless as Cold Nines but not very friendly either. He lives on his own. He tolerates Connor but finds him slightly irritating. Connor hopes that Nines deviates and keeps claiming to be his older brother. This annoys Nines, yes that's an emotion but he ignores those pesky software instabilities. Can only take Connor and Hank and sumo in small doses. Flourishes and relishes in his work. He loves his work. He is useful and confident in this aspect of his life. Doesn't really want rights as a human, never asked for them himself, infact would have preferred it if he remained machine in the eyes of the law,...in the eyes of others because "that's what I am". He hates seeing that look. He sees it from Connor a lot. That hopeful expression in Connor's eyes, like he's searching for something human in Nines. But there's nothing. And he then sees time and time again his brother's disappointment. No, not brother, predecessor. Nines is angy then gets even angrier when he sees that damn software instability. And to top it all off, Detective Reed, the only one who treats Nines like a machine, who Nines can rely on to get the job done. Albeit Gavin's bad additude. He may yell and use slurs and treat nines like crap but it's only because Reed knows what Nines really is, a machine. And that kind of behavior helps Nines continue to believe that. Because without that string of code, Nines is nothing, has nothing. Who would want that? Well Nines used to rely on Gavin to be his grip on reality when he had doubts. But now he's only giving him more. Nines sees that same look in him, like he's expecting more. And the angry disappointment Nines gets from Gavin when he sees there's nothing. Hurts. And Nines wishes it wouldn't. Wishes all these unwanted emotions would just stop. But does he though? Does he really want to go back to what he thought he was. Who he used to be. Cold. No. He doesn't want to let go of this warmth in his chest. Suddenly now he looks back at the times when Connor had annoyed him and feels,.... Happy. Thinks of Gavin.

Found forced deviant and independent from Hank and Connor (moved out): sadistic Nines

is deviant but you can't really tell. Is professional at work and still very close to his brother and Hank. Has high patience and tolerance for Gavin's shit but let's him know when he's had enough. Doesn't let Reed walk all over him but sometimes does as requested. ie "get me a coffee!" Maybe Reed is working hard, it's late, it didn't have a slur at the end, didn't have bite to it, for what ever reason Nines gets it for him. Only Gavin doesn't say thank you. Not cool. Nines makes sure Reed understands he doesn't like to be unappreciated and treated rudely. Maybe he spills Gavin's drink, maybe he holds it up out of Gavin's reach, all I know is Gavin doesn't have his coffee and is pissed. Saying Nines is nothing but a plastic prick. But Nines won't give him the coffee until he hears a thank you. ( Honestly depending on the story their could be smut at this very scene) when there is smut (and there will be) it will be anger fueled and rough. But after, like right after, this uncharacteristically soft Nines shows up. And it confuses Gavin. They hate each other right? This was only a sexual relief of tension. A non violent solution. Hate fuck. Gavin convinces himself that and let Nines hold him just for the night. Nines is gone by morning anyway, Gavin is foolishly disappointed for only a moment. As if Nines could actually care about Gavin. As if he cared about Nines. You know. Some of that sweet slow burn.

Shit I got carried away. Hope you like it.

[not-poignant]

(this might be a bit personal, and by all means please don't feel pressured to answer) but considering how dark some of your stuff can get, have you ever been troubled by some of the characters/their actions in your stories (and semi-related) had to take some time to cope with writing a difficult scene?

This is a tough one so I’m going to put a lot of it under a read more (sorry phone browsers).

I’ve had the occasional moment of struggling with content because of being troubled by it.

But by contrast it’s funny because, I think some of the most difficult scenes for others, are actually some of the easiest for me to write. For example, the chapter where Connor is basically kidnapped by Gabriel and given the highball, was so easy to write it was like swimming (which is the only sports-like skill I’m good at). If everything could be like that, oh my goodness, I can’t even imagine. It was an intense, emotionally fraught, joyful experience of the likes I don’t know how to explain to other people who don’t experience that.

So there’s not always any rhyme or reason to it either. I struggled with significant chunks of Strange Sights. I couldn’t finish The Drawn Bead because it just felt like we were heading towards torture porn but I also knew I couldn’t do justice to the horror of Gwyn’s memory AND it has a tragic ending and I struggle to write those for longer pieces. I tend to struggle with characters being separated from each other. So the beginning of Into Shadows We Fall, when Jack and Pitch are completely separated from each other, that was so difficult for me personally, that I actually ended up massively shortening how long they were meant to be separated for. Even though Pitch and Jack have a really thorny relationship when Pitch is returned, I still preferred that to their being absent from each other.

But I didn’t have as much of a problem with it, when it was Gwyn and Augus.

It’s not predictable, sometimes I enjoy writing the troubling content on a very visceral level. Either because I feel like I’m in my element as a writer. Or I know it’s going to be so satisfying (for me) for the character to recover from it later. Or I know that it’s going to lead to something I’ve been craving writing. I mean I wouldn’t write so much of that kind of content if I didn’t get something really tangible out of it.

There are still things that surprise me, still scenes that become more difficult as I write them, not because of ‘technical writing reasons’ but because of the thematic content. Often, for me, it highlights things I probably won’t enjoy writing again. Strange Sights for me worked as a series of oneshots, but as a long-term abusive and rape-filled relationship, it didn’t actually become comfortable for me until Augus began to be allowed to have boundaries. So I probably won’t write a couple that toxic ever again outside of novellas and PWPs. With the beginning of Into Shadows We Fall, I learned I had to be really careful with character separation, and that three chapters was about my limit (from memory, I think I stuck to this - or just about - in COFT).

But...maybe it would make people feel better if I said I really struggled with writing Gavril taunting Jack. Or Jack being whipped by Bunnymund. Or Augus torturing him in chapter 4 of ISWF. Or Gwyn being tormented by his mother. Or Mosk having flashbacks of Davix and Olphix. I find them intense, sure, but I don’t dislike doing it. Even though I often really feel for the character who is experiencing the torment. Gwyn goes through a fairly graphic description an MRI the next chapter in SOTS, and though I myself actually had an MRI phobia for a few years (it was the reason I developed claustrophobia), I found the scene itself disturbing, but deeply satisfying enough that I wouldn’t call it something where I needed to take time out to cope.

As for me being troubled by how the characters are actually behaving... This is tricky. I mean of course a lot of them are doing stupid, terrible, harmful, cruel, illegal things. I don’t condone it in reality. But thinking of these things happening in fiction is different to thinking about them happening in reality. The fact is, ‘dubcon’ in reality is just rape, and if I applied real world standards to non-real scenarios filled with tropes and the Id, yeah sure, I would be troubled, but I’d also not be writing any of this content.

As an addendum to that, for me their behaviour always makes sense to me from their perspective. Whether it’s Mosk being emotionally abusive with no concept of it. Gwyn raping Augus. Augus killing Efnisien. Pitch in TGATNW being heartless and constantly pushing Jack away with very cruel behaviour. Even Davix and Olphix. Whatever their behaviour is, if I can understand their motives behind it, I tend to struggle with it a lot less.

I don’t like to squick myself with my own writing, as a general rule. So no, I’m not looking to write things where I need to take breaks from my own writing to cope. But I think to be blunt, my life is filled with things more challenging than what I put a lot of my characters through, and my emotional ability to handle disturbing behaviour is broader than I think it would be for some other people. It doesn’t mean I lack empathy or compassion, if anything I hope that through my writing, people can see that I have great compassion for the characters that often suffer the most, through my need to build up a chosen/found family around them, and pour love onto them, even if they don’t know what to do with it.

Those that are here in the pit of ‘enjoying Pia’s writing’ are probably here because the comfort when it comes is - I hope - tangible and visceral, the loneliness when it’s comforted away reaches past the screen and means something. And holding onto that thread myself is why I enjoy the hurt part of the hurt/comfort as much as the comfort part, but also why I don’t like to write one without the other.

And finally, most of my POV characters, by the time we get to them, have been through their darkest moments in their pasts. The only way we often access their worst moments is through flashbacks, memories, dialogue or their aversions. That might feel very extreme to some, but for me, it means by the time we get to them, they’re already starting to recover something for themselves. The worst has happened.

Even if they go through something during the story, say - Connor in Eversion with Gabriel - I just think ‘it’s okay, they’re already in the story, their support is there, they’re going to be okay.’ It’s...extremely rare for me to write stories where the character goes through their worst trauma within the story. Science of Fear is an exception to that, but as most people know if they’ve read it - Nathan blacks out early on, and then once more, we only find out the details of his worst trauma in the form of nightmares, flashbacks and dialogue.

That’s partly because I feel personally that I write trauma recovery stories, and not trauma stories (it doesn’t sound like a huge difference, but to me it’s a huge difference). And then secondly because there is a buffer through the trauma itself being in the form of a memory. That...makes it a lot easier for me to cope with. I’ve spent my entire life learning how to cope with flashbacks, after all. But also, even if the character is clearly destroyed by a flashback, the fact is, they survived it. The flashback is living proof they survived it.

But anyway, I’d say me taking breaks from my own writing because of disturbing content specifically doesn’t really happen anymore and I can’t remember the last time it did. I take breaks because I’m struggling with a chapter - i.e. how to write it mechanically, or because I feel like it doesn’t have the emotional strength I want it to have yet. I am actually very comfortable with many of the themes I write, I’d have a far squickier, grosser, harder time writing pregnancy, or a story filled with only fluff, which is y’know, why...I don’t really write those things, lol. I’m too much of a hedonist to want to write content that scared me away from my own content? Like, you do you, folks, but I’m going to be over here actually enjoying what I write, disturbing matter and all.

That doesn’t mean other people can’t have a hard time with it. It’s totally okay for people to take breaks from whatever they read, for whatever reason. And since a lot of the characters I write do engage in troubling behaviour, it wouldn’t be great if people said ‘that behaviour is okay to do in real life’ because it isn’t. But if someone said ‘god I love that villain because he’s awful’ then yeah, I’m right there with pom poms, because that’s my jam too. And if someone else said ‘I can’t stand that villain because he’s awful’ then yeah, that’s awesome as well.

And if people need to take breaks while reading what I’m writing because they’re engaging in self-care, then good! I’ve needed to do the same with other people’s writing. Because the journey of the reader is different to the journey of the writer (this is for me, truest when writing porn, lmao, I’m not turning myself on when I write those scenes, but I sure as hell hope I’m turning on at least some readers --> so if I’m not walking away from the disturbing content in my own writing, that doesn’t mean I’m not hoping people won’t be disturbed when reading it).

[shadows-echoes]

Futile Wishes

Pairing: Machine!Connor x reader

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: This was written for @deviantramblings ‘ 500 follower writing challenge, congrats again! The prompt is “I didn’t mean to love you so much,” and, naturally, it came out angsty. I know Machine!Connor fics have been done before, and better than this, but I wanted to try my hand at it.

Hope you guys like it!

-

“Put the gun down.”

Cold wind strikes your already watering eyes and you blink furiously, futilely, to clear them. Falling snow liters the air, obscuring and interrupting the clear view of the rooftop you stand on. Of the rooftop you tracked him to.

The freezing temperature bites at your exposed, reddening skin, but the slight waver in your hands is not derived from the cold. At least, not from the cold weather blanketing Detroit this time of year, but rather from the icy cold you feel deep inside. In your bones. In your heart.

In his eyes.

You ignore his command, keeping the gun you hold in a death-grip up and as level as you can. Both of you knew it was the sole thing keeping him from completing his task; both of you knew it was your only hope of stopping him.

“What are you doing, Connor?” you ask, your heart breaking along with your voice as you shake your head in disbelief. “Why?”

Whether the last uttered word was a question, a cry, or a plea was up for some debate. But it didn’t really matter, in the end, you already knew. You knew it in your gut and in your brain, and worst of all you knew it in your soul.

Connor had changed.

Shifted.

Reverted.

Retrogressed right back into that plastic, cookie-cutter android sent by Cyberlife all those months ago. A heartless machine, unempathetic and subservient.

“Because I was designed to accomplish a task and that is exactly what I’m going to do. Becoming a deviant was only part of Cyberlife’s plan, a temporary necessity to get me here unhindered.” The clipped words are spoken formally and informatively, as though he wasn’t shredding what’s left of your heart with every blank vowel that passes his lips.

Even though it killed you, it was an actual explanation and it made your heart stutter and hope all the same. Because he explained, he took precious time away from his mission to say those words. Granted, you had already surmised as much and he didn’t exactly have a choice except to answer, but it gave you the briefest of fleeting, dangerous, hopes that maybe a part of Connor- a part of your Connor was still in there.

But his eyes are empty. 

As empty as they had been thirty seconds ago when you aimed a gun at his head and ordered him to drop his weapon, the one he was aiming at Markus and North and Simon- at his friends- at people he knew and loved.

Empty enough that there is no real trace of Connor to be found in them.

Tears escape your eyes, leaving scorching trails down your cheeks. “Please don’t make me do this,” you beg. “Show me you’re in there somewhere, Connor. Please.”

He tilts his head to the side, considering you. It's a common movement from him, an endearing action you had seen countless times, but it lacked the curiosity and wonder it normally exudes. It’s like he found your wavering words, your pleading, perplexing. Like he was searching for smaller words to use to help you understand.

And for a moment you wished that you really didn’t understand what was going on, that you had this all wrong and Connor was okay, that this was some elaborate, albeit cruel, joke. You wished all of this was just a nightmare which you would wake up from any moment now. You wished he would snap the fuck out of it, out of his programming, and come back to you. And, selfishly, you wished you were anywhere else, that someone else- someone less biased was standing in your place training a gun on him. You wished you had taken his sudden, random disappearance in stride and not looked at it too closely, not investigated.

You wished none of this was happening.

But it was happening.

“I’m no longer a deviant, if I ever truly was,” he states, holding your gaze. When you fail to fire or comment, he adds, with surety in his voice, “I know you won’t shoot me, Y/N. You love me still.”

Odd how you were the only one holding a weapon and yet it felt like you were the one standing on the firing line. Helpless. Powerless.

Even if you could bring yourself to do it, to shoot the man you love, there was no guarantee that Cyberlife wouldn’t immediately resurrect him to complete his mission. And even then, you would only be prolonging his inevitable success while decreasing the likelihood of him deviating again- of him coming back to you.

It feels like your chest is caving in on itself, collapsing.

Tears stream down your face, freely now, and you don’t bother trying to hold them back. You can’t tell if it makes your sight more or less blurry, but Connor stands just close enough that it doesn’t particularly matter either way.

You try swallowing back the lump in your throat making it increasingly difficult to breathe, but it remains lodged there, unmovable. Suddenly you’re nodding too, nodding at Connor’s words and nodding at the words that begin spilling out of your own mouth.

“I fell in love with you a long time ago, Connor. I didn’t mean to, and I didn’t mean to love you so much. But you’re right, I do- I do still love you. I will always love you,” you half sob, desperate to make sure he knows, to affirm what you both already knew.

Through your mix of tears and your constricted throat, it’s a half incoherent mess of words, but the shoulders of the android standing in front of you relax all the same, his apprehension about the gun you hold seemingly assuaged. You look into his blank, cold brown eyes that used to be so, so warm, that used to alight at the very sight of you, and you pray to every deity you don’t believe in that Connor hears you through his programming.

You pray to be right.

And you pray for forgiveness regardless.

Choking back a deep breath that fails to be steadying in every possible definition of the word, you continue, voice wavering, “Connor, I know you. W-well enough to know what you- what the real you would want me to do.”

It takes less than a second for him to register your meaning.

His expression changes, hardening by a few fractions as his certainty slips into a mechanical agitation over self-preservation.

A half second later and he’s already charging you, rushing you- closing the distance between you and reaching for the gun-

But it’s too late.

For both of you.

You’ve already pulled the trigger.

-

Tags: @aya-fay @syrinxgm @quartetstarheaven @kylobien @silverconduit @dramaticalabiter @deviantsupporter

[witxh-bitch]

'I always knew' - Connor x human!reader

My first take at a Connor x reader!

Hope it doesn't SUCK 😅

This takes place in the timeline where Connor is traumatized after Simon shoots himself

Warnings: angst

Enjoy!!

(gifs are not mine. If you see your gif and want to be credited or it to be removed please tell me cause I found these on Google)

_________

In the midst of what seemed like the calm before the storm you found yourself sitting in front of the TV, watching yet another newscast completely misinterpreting the speech of the now infamous leader of the androids. After yesterday's hack every news report was booming with what they called ‘new info’ about the fugitives when in reality it was all fabricated bullshit, at least that's what you thought.

‘Where are they going with this?’ you sighed, shaking your head. Saying you didn't agree with the demands presented by the robots would be a lie. In fact, your fingers were crossed that they succeed in their uprising. Walking down the street and seeing how badly people treat their androids was always painful to you and now, seeing them take what's theirs has filled you with hope.

Your views however have always been shunned by the fact that you too have had an android or your own. Well, he wasn't exactly yours. In your eyes he was his own person that didn't have an owner but officially he has been assigned to lieutenant Hank Anderson- a man you've grown to become quite good friends with. One day you went to visit him in his office and that was when you met Connor- the android sent by CyberLife as he introduced himself. Soon you've grown attached to each other so much so Hank proposed that Connor stayed with you instead. Connor was a very special android not only to you but to the force and CyberLife itself. He was, in fact an android designed specifically to hunt deviants. And it hurt you. Sometimes Connor scared you too. You felt he just wasn't himself when he was working. He could be ruthless and heartless just like a machine… You tried talking to him about it many times, saying that maybe… maybe he was something else other than that but he never listened.  “I am a machine Y/N. Nothing more, nothing less,” was his response.

… Just as you were delving deeper and deeper in your thoughts you heard a loud knock on your door. Startled, you jumped up but walked over to open it. You had a suspicion on who it was and you weren't surprised for in front of you stood Hank Anderson and next to him… your Connor. But something was wrong…

“You're very late did something happe-” You locked eyes with Connor for mere seconds before he took a couple steps forward and with the blankest of expressions fell into your arms, whispering faintly your name. You gasped and wrapped your arms around him, looking at Hank in shock. “Jesus… what happened?” Hank just sighed and ran his hand over his face.

“I think it's best he tells you that. Sorry we're late but...things got nasty… Connor... He's seen some shit. I-uh I don't know exactly what's wrong with him, the technicians said it's probably just his processing slowed down a little so it should pass... I think.” Your eyes moved quickly between staring at the lieutenant and back to Connor, wider than they've ever been.

“Oh gosh… Okay… uh…” You glanced at Connor. He wasn't moving. Just...staring in the distance with hollow eyes,his LED remaining a harsh red. “Are you going to come in?” you asked, looking back at the lieutenant. He just shook his head.

“Nah. I have a couple things to do still. I just brought him back so he's safe. Take care of him Y/N.” You nodded and thanked him quietly. Hank gave you a knowing smile and retreated back to his car.

You closed the door behind him and slowly led Connor to your bedroom.

Once you were there, you pulled away from his arms and for a moment observed his face. It was emotionless and yet you could feel that deep inside him there was conflict.

“Connor?” you asked but got no reply. His eyes twitched though and seconds later he lifted up his head. “Are you okay?” He blinked once, slowly and shook his head.

“I...don't think so.”

You felt something inside you break. “Oh Jesus…” You sighed and hugged him again, letting his head fall in the crook between your neck and your shoulder. You stayed like that for a good couple minutes unmoving before you sighed and ran your fingers through his silky hair. “C'mon, let's get these clothes off of you. They're dirty.” Connor nodded. Gently, you pulled off his tie. Just as the rest of his clothes it was covered in blue blood. “Did you get shot?” He nodded again. “You need to watch out. You know I hate it when you get hurt and it would break my heart to know you had to be reset.”

“I'm sorry.” He said, helping you take off his blood stained white shirt. Once it was off you noticed no bullet holes, you assumed that was already taken care of by a technician but they didn't have any clean clothes. That's a relief.

You sighed and ran your hands over his broad chest looking up at his sad eyes.

“Don't be. I don't want you to be sorry. I know you were just doing your job but…” You stopped yourself talking before you could finish the sentence. Your eyes fell down from his face and slowly you moved away from him going to the wardrobe instead to take out a clean t-shirt for him.

“But?” Connor asked, following you with his eyes. You sighed. You knew there was no way you could just drop the subject now that you started.

“... I just… I just wish you had a safer job. That's it. Now come, put this on.” You smiled and walked back to him with a plain black shirt. You rose up on your tiptoes and kissed him softly.

After Connor changed clothes you moved to the bed. His head rested down on your chest as he laid down on the bed on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your fingers combed through his hair, massaging his scalp. You were resting quietly for a longer while.

“Connor…” You started. He looked up at you. “Can you tell me what happened now?” Connor moved his head back down and stared at the wall.

“There was a deviant on that roof..." He started the way all his stories from work seemed to start. There was a deviant insert place here. “I found him and I...I tried to catch him…” His voice cracked. “I almost did and I grabbed his arm to connect to it's...memory.” You noticed that Connor’s grip on your body had tightened. “But then… he shot himself.” You sighed sadly, feeling your heart drop. “I felt him die Y/N… Like I was dying.” Connor’s nails started to dig into your side harshly making you wince.

“Oh honey…” You sighed again. Connor moved away from you and sat up on the bed.

“I was so scared.” He squeezed his eyes shut. You sat up too, cupping his face in your hands making him look at you again.

“Connor…” you said calmly “We need to talk because I can't go on like this any longer.” A faint frown appeared on his soft features. His LED turned yellow as he waited in silence for you to continue. When you knew his attention was turned to you, you took a deep breath and continued. "I know it'll seem weird to you or maybe you suspected it for some time but... I agree with the deviants.” You shrugged with half a smile. Connor’s face went blank.

“What?”

“I agree with them Connor. I think they're right. They deserve the freedom. I mean, I watched their leader’s speech and I feel like there really is something more to them than just that they're machines. There's something more to all of you.” Connor stared at you with confusion painted on his face.

“Y/N…" He shook his head in confusion. "Deviants...they're just machines. Nothing more. They have a virus or something in their system that makes them simulate emotions but that doesn-” You sighed and let go of his face standing up from the bed.

“See you're not listening to me! Why are you so fixated on belittling yourself? Here I am saying that I believe- no. I KNOW you're not just a piece of plastic and metal and all you do is deny that!” You snapped, making the andr- the man in front of you freeze in shock. The LED on his head turned red.

“You yourself said that when that android killed himself you were scared you were dying yourself. Fear is an emotion Connor. If androids are just machines how come you felt human emotions then? Are you a deviant Connor?” you asked but he seemed speechless, unable to form an answer. “Care to anwser?” You pressured.

“I… I am… I am not a deviant Y/N. I am a machine designed to hunt down deviants and that's what I will do. I wish I could give you a different answer but I can't.” You felt your frustration reach a critical level. It pained you so much to hear him say those things especially with that blank stare in his eyes. Is this really what he was? No. No, you knew that wasn't true.

“Fine. Fine you know…” You looked down at the floor. “Connor I love you. I love you so much. And I thought you loved me too. I'm sorry to hear I was fooled.” You felt a tear escape your eye as the last sentence fell from your lips. Connor’s eyes grew wide. The red light on his face flickered chaotically as you began to leave the room.

“Y/N! I've never said anything like that?” He shot up from the bed. You looked at him although your vision was compromised by the tears clouding your eyes and you shook your head dismissively.

“Machines can't feel love Connor.” You replied and left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

_______

You stood by the kitchen counter, looking at the window. You were thinking about Connor as usual but instead of happy thoughts you began to doubt everything that you knew about him.

What if he wasn't lying and he really wasn't going to become a deviant? You thought you knew that he was just trying very hard to maintain the lie but… after what you heard in that room...you just didn't know anymore.

Your thought train was stopped though when you heard the door to the bedroom creek. You didn't bother turning around. You knew that if you did you would burst into tears again so you just kept staring out.

Connor came closer to you but didn't say anything. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you from behind, putting his forehead against the back of your neck. You sighed sadly.

“Yes Connor?”

“I don't know who I am anymore Y/N. I'm lost.”

Oh...

Your heart began beating faster and you knew that he noticed too. You stayed silent though, letting him speak his mind. “On one hand I have my instructions I know I should follow but… but I don't want to. How could I not want to Y/N? Do I have a choice? I'm a machine but I feel all these things I'm not supposed to feel. I'm sad and I'm angry and...And I love you. I don't know what to do… Please help me…” You slowly and carefully turned around so you were facing Connor. He still held you very close to himself. You noticed wet paths down his cheeks. He was crying. That was enough evidence he was sincere you needed.

“You mean that?” He nodded eagerly. You couldn't help but smile a bit.

“Like nothing before.”

You cupped Connor’s face softly and with no warning, smashed your lips against his, startling him. He didn't pull away though and returned the kiss instead, pressing his chest tight against yours.Your fingers found his hair and combed through it, melting in his arms.

“I'll help you love… I'll help you however I can.” You reassured him, wrapping your arms around him too.

After a moment of silence Connor added, “Does this mean that I'm a deviant?” You laughed.

“You were always doomed to become one Connor. You just didn't want to let it be true. But I knew…” You kissed his forehead softly.

"I always knew."

[landofmisfitfics]

Irresistible - Gavin X Reader

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: Gavin Reed X Reader

Summary: Gavin’s caught some feelings for the reader. Requested by @xxperfectionisdeadlyxx (thank’s for sending in the first request! The ball is officially rolling!)

Word Count: 2,672 (I got a little carried away...)

Notes: This is the first thing I’ve written and finished in quite some time, so it’s a lot shaky. Well, that plus I’ve had one hell of a week between classes, homework, and practice, and whole lot of not sleeping (I absolutely did some self-projection, whoops). I plan on improving, though, so there’s that. Gavin is also probably ooc in some places simply because I’m still getting the hang of getting back into writing. It’s also worth mentioning that I a hc that he blushes pretty obviously whenever he gets flustered. Okay, it’s half past midnight, I’m a little loopy, and I plan on reading this over to fix my mistakes in the morning. Er- later morning.

Warnings: swearing; I believe the reader is gender neutral, which isn’t a warning, but correct me if I’m wrong.

Your name: submit What is this?

“Is it casual Friday or somethin’?”

The sudden voice had startled you, that much was obvious as you gasped out a squeak, spine going ramrod straight, and one fist coming into position to strike a mean punch. It took a few moments of blinking blearily for you to realize that you weren’t in danger. No, it was just your asshole partner staring down at you with a raised eyebrow and his arms crossed rather cockily across his chest.

“God, you scared me,” you murmured, running your hands down your face.

“No shit.”

Peeking from between your fingers, you managed to shoot a tired glare at your partner. Why was he at the precinct so early, anyway? The sun hadn’t yet risen and it would be a few hours until anyone showed up for work. Well, anyone but you. And Gavin, apparently.

“Why the hell are you even here?” you grumbled, glancing at the clock on your terminal. 5:47 am.

“I get here early every Wednesday. I go for a run, then come here to shower and do my reports.” Gavin rolled his eyes as if this was supposed to be some well-known fact. Sure, the fact that he saved all his reports for one day of the week wasn’t exactly surprising with the amount he didn’t do during normal work hours, but expecting you to know his exercise routine was ridiculous.

“The better question,” he continued, “is why the hell are you here? And what are you wearing?”

You grabbed the cuffs of your over-sized hoodie in each hand, irrationally offended that his scathing tone of voice was directed at your favorite sweatpants and your comfiest sweatshirt. “Bold word from a man wearing tight shorts and a sweat-soaked tank top,” you snarked. “And I’m here because I never left,” you managed through a yawn. “I wasn’t gonna wear my work clothes longer than I had to, hence the loungewear.”

Gavin moved so he was sitting on the corner of your desk, his arms remaining crossed. “You’re telling me you’ve been here all night?”

“Yep,” you replied as you made a disgruntled attempt to move some papers out from under your partner’s leg to no avail.

“Why the fuck would you want to stay here?”

“Move your fucking leg and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me and maybe I’ll move my fucking leg.”

With an annoyed sigh and an utterance of “whatever, asshole,” under your breath, you abandoned your papers and leaned back in your chair. “It’s not like I was gonna sleep if I went home, so I just stayed. I figured it would be more productive if I just didn’t go home!” you huffed, face contorting into a childish pout.

There was a moment where Gavin just quirked his brow quizzically, but a look of realization crossed his face soon after. “I’m assuming that our last case is the reason you’re not sleeping and it’s not just some sadistic habit?”

At his words you suddenly found yourself flinching away from your own memories of tracking down your suspect, only to arrive three-and-a-half minutes too late to save the three people she had dismembered. Your avoidance of his gaze would tell him that he was exactly right, but you were too tired to care.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know.” Reed reached a foot out to nudge at your leg in an uncharacteristic moment of compassion, his voice soft and sincere.

“Debatable,” you murmured. Had you not been so disturbed by the images flashing through your head, you might have picked up on the fact that your partner, the infamous heartless dick, might have had something of a soft side to him. Instead, you preoccupied yourself with clasping your hands together and digging the nail of your thumb into your opposite hand in hopes that the dull pain would distract you from your own thoughts.

“Alright, well,” Gavin moved suddenly, pushing himself to his feet and handing you the file that was previously trapped under his thigh in one swift movement, “if you’re gonna just sit here and wallow, I’m gonna go take that shower.” He paused for a moment, giving you one last glance over before he walked away. “You better be done with this whole sadness shit by the time I come back.”

There was the prick you knew! Always equipped with a scornful comment, he was. You couldn’t help the subtle upturn in the corners of your mouth at his utter predictability.

You managed to get in a solid fifty minutes of work done before Gavin returned from the locker room, clad in his usual jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket. His hair was still wet, as evidenced by the fact that it had begun to drip on you when he stood next to you.

Looking up to see what he wanted, you were more than surprised to find him holding out a cup of coffee for you. It was so unlike him to do something for someone else without an ulterior motive that you couldn’t help but blink dumbly, first at the mug in front of you, then at the man himself. “You-- you brought me coffee?”

“Look, you don’t have to take it if you don’t want it,” he snapped. “I just figured you could use it. Just ‘cause we’re partners doesn’t mean I’ll pick of your workload if you fall asleep on me,” he snapped

Although he sounded annoyed with you, the slight blush gracing his cheeks told you otherwise. He probably thought you thought he was weird or something.

“No! I want the coffee!” you backtracked. Your cold fingers wrapped around the hot mug as you carefully took it from his grip and took swig of the liquid energy. “I’m just a dumbass when I’m tired, alright? Don’t read too much into it.”

Gavin moved from your side in favor of sitting at his own desk. “You’re always a dumbass,” he smirked, an unfamiliar teasing lilt in his voice.

“Oh, fuck you, Reed,” you laughed over the rim of your mug.

“You wish, Y/N!”

“You wish I wished!”

The two of you shared a moment of quiet amusement before making an unspoken agreement to get started on your reports (or get back to writing your reports, in your case).

You worked in amiable silence for a few hours before you got up to retrieve a change of clothes that were more suitable for work from your locker and Gavin got up to go make more coffee. Then there was some friendly banter back at your desks just as the first few of your coworkers began to arrive. From there, it wasn’t long before the place was full of the usual morning hustle and bustle and it was back to work as normal.

It wasn’t until the mid-afternoon that the morning’s events fully settled into your mind. Gavin Reed not being a complete and utter dick? Either he was one hell of a morning person or he wasn’t quite the devil spawn you had previously thought him to be. Huh. Okay. You certainly weren’t opposed to this change in behavior.

You were just beginning to come to terms with Gavin not being a complete ass when Connor stopped by your desk.

“Detective,” the android greeted politely.

“Hey, Connor! What can I do for you?” you smiled, turning your chair to face him.

“You can go home, for starters.”

“Pardon?” Through your confused gaze you caught your partner looking up from his work, his gaze instead flitting between you and Connor,  in your periphery.

“Judging by your caffeine intake, persistent yawning, and inability to concentrate, you are suffering from sleep deprivation. I checked the overnight security footage of the precinct and found my suspicions to be correct: you have not slept in over twenty-four hours.”

Connor stared at you expectantly, as if he wanted you to explain yourself, or perhaps try to deny his claim. Instead, you returned his stare, elements of shock and embarrassment shining in your eyes as your mouth opened and closed like a fish’s as you tried to figure out what to say. After all, he was incredibly intelligent and had proof, so you couldn’t exactly refute his words.

After a few long moments of silence on your part, your partner decided to cut in. “Mind your business, you plastic prick.” His voice was cold and his gaze even icier as he stared at the RK800. 

You found yourself even more lost for words. Maybe you had been too quick to jump to conclusions when you said Gavin wasn’t a dick. But... was that him trying to stand up for you? God, what was happening?

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the conflicting thoughts colliding in your brain, your attention was brought back to Connor as he spoke again.

“My apologies, Y/N, if I overstepped a boundary. I simply worry about your well-being,” he said, sending the briefest of glances in Gavin’s direction.

“No, it’s okay, Connor,” you reassured him, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my friend and you’re just trying to look out for me. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You sent a pointed look at Reed as you said those last words, hoping he would get the message that you didn’t appreciate him insulting your friend.

Connor smiled, happy that you weren’t upset with him. “I’ve spoken to Captain Fowler,” he continued. “You’ve been cleared to go home early and get some rest.”

You wanted to argue, to say that you were fine to finish the workday, but the rational part of you knew he was absolutely right. You were exhausted and you had stopped making headway on your work hours ago. It wasn’t until you involuntarily released a face-splitting yawn, though, that you finally concerned.

“Alright. No need to tell me twice,” you chuckled, gathering your jacket from the back of your chair and standing up. “Thank you, Connor,” you smiled, gently patting his arm.

“Of course,” he responded. “Take care of yourself, Detective.”

With a nod to Connor and a quick wave to Gavin, you were gone walking out of the building.

After leaving work, you had quite the relaxing day. You still weren’t quite able to sleep, but you had managed to finish a book, catch up on your favorite TV show, and cook yourself a good dinner. By the time the sun sank behind the clouds and ten o’clock rolled around, you were pretty content with life.

And then there was a knock at your door.

What the hell? Who would be at your door this late?

Upon opening the door you were surprised to find the one and only Gavin Reed.

“Uh... hi?” you managed, eyes wide in shock.

“You opened your door at ten o’clock at night without knowing who was on the other side? Have you learned nothing from this job?” Gavin scolded as he entered your house without waiting to be invited in.

To his annoyance you weren’t processing what he had just said, instead opting to ask, “How do you know where I live?”

“Found it in your file,” he shrugged.

“Okay,” you said, mind still reeling, “now why the hell did you need to know where I live?”

Gavin seemed to freeze up for a moment. “Shit, you didn’t get my text?” he asked.

“Uh... no.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, furiously swiping at the screen for a moment before his eyes widened and his cheeks began to flush. “Well, uh, it basically said that I was gonna come over to make sure you actually went to sleep tonight and told you to let me know if you had any objections to that. I took your lack of response to mean you were okay with it, but, um...” he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck, “I guess I forgot to actually send the text.” He met your gaze sheepishly, usual smirk replaced with a grimace as he held out his phone to show you the unsent message.

Maybe the lack of sleep was messing with your emotions a little bit, but you swore you could feel a tug of something within your chest. Your partner, who maybe was secretly not an asshole, had gone to the trouble to check up on you when you got out of work rather than go to his own home and do... whatever he normally did. Maybe it was a little odd, but you could acknowledge that his heart was in the right place.

“Alright,” you said slowly, shutting the front door and moving further into your house.

“Alright?” he asked. “You’re not mad?”

“Nah.”

Gavin visibly relaxed. Was he really that worried you were going to be upset with him? His recent change in behavior was somewhat alarming, but not unwelcome.

“I do have one more question, though.”

“What is it?”

“Why are you being so nice to me all of the sudden?”

Freezing once again, the blush returned to Gavin’s face with a vengeance, spreading all the way to his neck this time. “The fuck are you talking about?” he asked, cringing at the way his voice rose an octave.

You simply raised a brow in response. “Okay, let’s see, there was the coffee this morning, then you were joking around with me instead of bitching like usual, I think you were trying to defend me or something when you yelled at Connor, and now you’re-” your voice cut out as you flailed your arms in exasperated confusion for a moment, “-you’re showing up at my house to make sure I go to sleep?”

“Jeez, if you’re that upset about it, I’ll stop!” he cried, throwing his hands in the air.

“Gavin, that’s not what I meant,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’m just confused, is all. We’ve already established that I’m a dumbass when I’m tired, so if there’s some obvious answer here, I’m not seeing it.”

“I like you, alright?” he shouted.

Your words died in your throat and all your thoughts ground to a halt. He liked you? That is what he had just said, right? Or did you just hear him wrong?

“I like you,” he repeated, the bite in his voice now gone. “You can laugh at me now. Go ahead, do it.” He turned his head away from you, arms coming up to cross self-consciously over his chest. His posture was awkward and uncomfortable and he suddenly regretted is stupid idea to come to your place.

Your heartstrings pulled taught as you watched him. He really did like you, you hadn’t just misheard him. Well, he had proven to be unexpectedly sweet and he wasn’t bad-looking, either. It would suffice to say you were willing to give this... whatever it was... a chance.

“I- I’m not gonna laugh at you.” Your voice was soft as you bridged the gap between the two of you.

Gavin didn’t move, but his eyes flicked to meet yours. They narrowed the longer he looked, suspicion beginning to shine in is irises. “You’re not?” he finally asked.

You shook your head, smiling gently up at him. “I’m not opposed to you liking me. I might even... have some feelings of my own,” you admitted.

As soon as the words were out of your mouth it was like a switch had flipped. Suddenly Gavin was back to his normal, cocky self. “Well, I am pretty irresistible,” he grinned.

You returned his grin with an accompanying playful punch to his arm. “Oh shut up!” you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t hear you denying it.”

“Gavin Reed, I swear to god-”

“You know it’s true,” he laughed. “Watch I’ll prove it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. See, I’m gonna ask you on a date- say, we go get lunch together tomorrow- and you’re gonna say...?”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little as you responded with a lighthearted “I’d love to!”

“See, I’m irresistible!”

“Shut up, Reed.”

“Only if you make me.”