#Two RK800s is better than one

[lonely-cowboy]

breaking point

pairing: connor (rk800) x gn!reader

summary: to prove which of you is the better detective, you and connor like to play a little game. this time around, connor is more determined than ever to reach your breaking point.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: nothing but wildly ooc connor, it’s just them yapping away and being arrogant lil assholes

author's note: do i like this? not at all. am i gonna blame it on the fact it's 1am? sure. i just wanted to write smth ok, leave me alone

masterlist ⟡ requests

The best days at the precinct were the ones with no work. No crime scenes to investigate, no files to sort, no nothing. But they weren’t your favorite because you hated your job and the workload (quite the opposite, actually). No, they were your favorite because you could have some alone time with Connor, playing the little game you always did. 

As head forensic psychologist, you were primarily tasked with interviewing suspects and analyzing their reactions. Your job got a lot harder when Connor joined the department, making your job look so much easier than it actually was.

Rather than view him as your rival, you viewed Connor as a challenge. You wanted to prove (to yourself more than anyone else) that you were just as good at your job as any android. Besides, you respected Connor’s interrogation process far too much to hate him. Or rather, you liked watching him during his interrogation process. Really, you just liked watching him in general.

When there was no work and the precinct was nearly empty, you and Connor were allowed to take over the interrogation room. You would sit across from each other, doing everything you could to make the other break in a mock interrogation.

It was there that you found yourself, hands neatly clasped atop the table and brow raised in arrogant curiosity. Connor stood opposite you with his palms pressed against the table, scrutinizing you with narrowed eyes. His eyes scanned over you as he tilted his head in that annoyingly endearing way before pulling back and rubbing his hands together in thought.

“Do you believe Lieutenant Anderson is a good mentor?” Connor asked.

The two of you always asked each other meaningless questions, doing your best to refrain from answering or to successfully lie to the other. At this question, you remained silent for a moment longer than you should have. 

“Yes,” you replied simply, offering a nonchalant shrug in an attempt to throw Connor off.

“You’re lying,” he accused immediately.

“I would never,” you retorted. “I’m offended you would think so.”

Connor ceased his questioning to eye you suspiciously. His eyes trailed over your body for any indication of discomfort or nervousness. You hoped he wouldn’t find any.

“The brevity of your response and lack of natural movement suggest you’re lying,” Connor said as he studied you again. “You believe you’d be a better mentor than Lieutenant Anderson, don’t you?”

“In some aspects, yes,” you answered truthfully. After all, to lie properly was to occasionally tell the truth.

Connor nodded along with your response, noting the way you remained unaffected despite being caught in a lie. He would need to do something more to break you, something that would make you sweat.

Your gaze followed Connor as he started to pace the length of the room. Your attention was drawn to his LED as it flashed quickly between colors. Blue. Yellow. Red. Red? Yellow.

The occasional bright red made your brows furrow. Was he really that stumped? He couldn’t think of a single way to break you? You doubted it. Something else must have been on his mind, your thoughts racing at what could have him so conflicted.

“Connor,” you whispered hesitantly.

The sound of his name seemed to snap him back to attention. Connor immediately stopped pacing and fixed you with a steady gaze as if he had come to a decision. With careful steps, Connor rounded the table to stand beside you. He leaned against the table and looked down at you with his arms crossed confidently.

“You’re hard to break, aren’t you?” he murmured.

The crease between your brows deepened as your confusion grew. You were puzzled by Connor’s sudden proximity and the low tone of his voice.

“Well, I… I guess it’s part of the job,” you said softly.

Connor nodded and agreed simply, “Truth.”

Another beat of silence passed as Connor did nothing but watch you. His eyes flitted about your figure, though it seemed as though he wasn’t analyzing you this time around. It was like he was looking at you just to look at you.

“Do you find enjoyment in our little game? In successfully lying to me?” Connor inquired.

You were hesitant to answer, your confusion outweighing any thought. When you did speak, your voice cracked slightly when you answered, “Yes.”

“Do you find enjoyment in other ways from our game?” he continued.

“No.”

“Lie.”

You couldn’t help but stare at Connor. You wanted to tear your gaze away from his desperately, but there was something so appealing about the hardness of his typically gentle eyes. 

When you didn’t answer, Connor raised his brows and leaned forward expectantly. The intensity of his gaze made you suddenly nervous, your heart racing as you moved to fidget with your hands.

“I need a truthful answer, Detective,” Connor stated firmly.

He knew the answer. He knew you were lying. He just wanted you to say it. There was no point in denying anything now.

“Yes.”

Connor hummed and finally pulled his gaze away from you, allowing you to sigh in relief. There was something in his eyes that made you… inexplicably anxious. 

“Can you elaborate?” Connor prodded after a moment.

“I can,” you replied quietly. “But I don’t want to.”

At your refusal, Connor’s attention snapped back to you, the crinkle in his brow suggesting his mild surprise.

“Why is that, Detective?” he urged. When he got no response, only your steady gaze locked with his, he continued. “Are you worried it may incriminate you?”

“No,” you replied calmly. 

Admittedly, you were very proud of yourself for keeping such an unperturbed composure. Your face remained tranquil and your voice confident. But your external composure meant nothing, not when it was Connor interrogating you. He could detect your pounding heart and uneven breaths with ease. You bet he could even sense the claminess of your palms.

“Lie.”

You weren’t entirely sure why you even attempted to lie anymore. Connor was a walking polygraph, he could see through any of your lies no matter how believable they were.

But being as stubborn as you were, you refused to admit that Connor was right. Instead, you sucked in a slow breath and pressed your lips in a thin line, eyes locked on Connor the entire time. Your stubbornness made him frown, though you knew it was a quality he had always admired.

“Fine. If you won’t tell me yourself then I’ll just have to guess,” Connor shrugged with mock defeat. He pretended to think for a moment, lips pursed in a way that made your eyes dart to his mouth. “Is it because you find superiority in besting me?”

Connor started tame. Anyone would feel superior after besting an android, he was well aware of that. And you knew he was aware. What was he trying to get at?

“Yes, partially,” you said, cursing yourself for admitting that it was only part of the reason you found your mock interrogations so enjoyable.

Connor seemed unphased by your answer as if he already knew there was more to your enjoyment. He sat in quiet deliberation again, though he had already settled on his next question. 

“Is it because you’re attracted to me?” Connor questioned innocently.

Connor was smart, you knew this. You knew this and still thought that maybe– just maybe— he wouldn’t be able to guess correctly.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing away from Connor, knowing that it only made you look more suspicious. You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes focused on the wall in front of you. 

“Detective?” Connor pressed as he waited patiently for an answer.

You startled at the light touch of his hand on your chin as he slowly turned you back to him. He kept a gentle but firm grip on your chin, looking down at you questioningly. The feeling of his skin against yours didn’t help at all. It only worked to accelerate your heartbeat, which Connor immediately took note of.

“Your heart rate has increased by 32%, Detective,” Connor observed. “An increased and irregular heart rate is typically a sign of nervousness. Are you nervous?”

“You know the answer,” you mumbled.

“You’re right, I do,” he confessed easily. “But I want to hear it from you; are you nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Because I was correct in assuming you’re attracted to me?”

You inhaled slowly, working up the nerve to answer. But there was no point, you both knew your answer. He knew. You knew. It felt like everyone in the precinct– everyone in the world– knew.

“Yes…”

The corner of Connor’s lips quirked into a satisfied smirk having successfully broken his most stubborn participant. He slowly pulled his hand away from your chin, resting it flat against the tabletop. His arrogance sparked something inside you, compelling you to act unnaturally bold.

“Fine, you win,” you grunted, rising from your seat. “Congratulations.”

Without much thought, you reached for Connor’s tie and yanked him into you, smashing your lips against his. Your hand was tight around his tie, your nerves seeping into your grip. You pulled away sharply, only allowing him a quick kiss before your nerves could fully return. You released his tie and gently pushed his chest to put some distance between the two of you. 

“There’s your prize,” you hissed, though you both knew there was nothing menacing behind your tone.

It was Connor’s turn to feel flustered, finally. His cheeks were coated with a faint blush, his eyes wide and utterly perplexed. His lips were still parted slightly like he was savoring the feeling of your lips against his. Unease boiled in your chest the longer Connor did nothing.

But the look in his eyes settled any feelings of insecurity. He looked entirely infatuated with you. And when he spoke again, that infatuation only made itself clearer. 

“If that’s my prize, I’ll have to win more often.”

[iwonderwh0]

rk1k post

Fic ideas that I'll never write:

Markus happen to catch a virus that completely locks his ability to move. He can still communicate through wireless messages, but that's basically it.

Unfortunately, it's not so easy to erase either, as the virus plots itself within some of the core components that have to be replaced, and in general it just takes time to figure out how exactly it is possible to erase the virus without fucking up Markus's system as well.

Markus can't really afford to be completely paralized like that. He has to keep showing up for various meetings and all this stuff. After all, he's a public figure that represents all the android voices.

One of the possibile solutions is to be within close enough distance to where the meeting is taking place and let someone else from Jericrew replace him temporarily while he's sick in this way, maybe wirelessly transmitting what he would have said and let them be his voice. The android(s) that temporarily take his place (be it North, Connor, Josh or Simon) may also share with him the stream of their vision/hearing, so he could be more present and included. But this is still rather lacking solution, and even though at first it works, Markus is getting progressively more and more depressed about his condition of complete helplessness. It's miserable, and more importantly – it's BORING. And no one really knows what to do with this virus without risking corrupting Markus's system either.

And so, Connor suggests a solution.

They're both RKs and their systems are compatible. He can temporarily transfer Markus into his body and let their system run in parallel. Connor system is kinda meant for that anyway – it has always had a place for a "second pilot", Amanda. Although Amanda was fairly passive for most of the time, still, she has been there. And now, as her place is free, Markus can take it.

The experience of this connection is...interesting. And it almost goes completely wrong the first time Markus tries to do something. Connor, although not meaning to, panics badly . Their system gets overloaded with stress, and now they're both overheating. Markus feels like shit as Connor's body starts to cry involuntarily, even though Connor himself frantically apologises and tries to convince him that it's all okay. It's just the experience of losing control of his body and having someone else to control it, stresses him the fuck out, even though it was his idea to suggest it. He didn't expect it to backfire. After all, it's Markus, and not Amanda. Still.

After some trial and error they find a way for both of them be in control without completely handing administrator rights to only one of them at a time. This way, none of them gets completely overpowered, and although this way it's a little harder to coordinate their actions, this solution works better for their shared sanity. After some awkward adjusting period to the way it works, they find a way to operate smoothly, coordinated, in some way even better than before. It's about trust, and they have enough of it to make it work.

It's a little weird to have some of their thoughts slipping into another one to hear. Not all of them, but some. It's weird to feel the physical sensation of another one of them getting some emotion. Like the moment they only appear like that, within RK800 body some android, not yet aware of it being Markus in there can say something about how Connor shouldn't even be there. And at this moment the both of them feel two sets of feelings, a burning guilt – coming from Connor, and frustrated anger – coming from Markus. It's both the pain in their shared chest and the pressure of pulsating noise in their head. They know EXACTLY how another one of them feels, because, well, they have to endure it simultaneously.

The touch one is interesting as well – it both feels as if this touch belongs to someone else, but also it's your own. (Would it be called sex or technically just a masturbation if they get the idea to make use of their time in this way as well?)

Another thing that they are surprised to be able to share now – a garden. It's empty now, and it's cold. For Connor. Somehow, it's sunny and blooming for Markus even though they are in the exact same place. Markus soon realises that he has the rights needed to change the setting, and yet Connor does not. Disturbed, Markus realises that not only that, but in general, taking Amanda's place he actually has a lot more administrator rights, some of them the ones Connor wasn't even aware of himself. He changes the weather to make it early fall, he removes the roses and plants sunflowers instead. They both have fun just turning the garden into something completely different from what it originally was. Other than pigeons, there are now canaries, koi fishes get replaced with tropical ones. It would have been impossible for them to live in a pond if it was the real world, but Zen Garden is a place that can be programmed, it doesn't have the kind of limitations of a physical one.

In Zen garden they can get a little break by being separated, each one within their own avatar, free to walk around as they please.

When Markus's body gets fixed and the virus is finally erased from his system, it's almost sad to be parted again after they spent so much time learning to exist as one, never lonely within their own presence. As Markus transfers back, he hints that there could be a place and time for him as well to offer his body to be shared sometimes. The thought about it fills him with warmth, and, from sharing Connor's body for long enough, he knows that at this moment as he says that, their feelings on the matter are mutual.

[hambiichu]

Robotic (Red x Reader) AU

--------Partner--------

Blue was right when he advised you to decline Looker's offer. Even if you worked at this police station for years and decided that withering would be a better alternative than looking for better employment in this world of technological, you shouldn't have accepted it in the first place when is, not your prefences.

If Looker had said, in a more accurate way, that working with an android you can manage on your own will enhance your abilities as a detective and police officer rather than having you sit at a table all day, you would have laughed at his advice.

But you were a trusting employer, and you did what he said, without inquiry, like a puppy, because you can't refused and damn well he knows what's good for you like a father.

If only you had answered no, then none of this could have happened; you wouldn't be standing in front of a dead person, examining a crime scene with an android.

You think everything will be okay but no.

Tonight, you've assigned your first case with him and you already fed up.

"I assume you checked the evidences?"

His icy demeanour belies his warm brown eyes and his raised eyebrows, which are more akin to those of a labradoodle than a husky. You leapt at the sound of his voice, losing your stream of thought as your head snapped to the android.

His name was Red, and he wore a semi-formal grey jacket wearer with a white shirt, dark tie, and dark jeans. His model and serial number are on the right breast, a blue triangle is on the left breast, and a blue armband is on the right arm, which are the typical identification marks for androids on clothing. The words ANDROID, a larger blue triangle, and his model number, RK800, are printed over the shoulders of his jacket.

"No," You answered, clearing your throat as your eyes gaze back to the dead corpse. "Not quite, I am focusing."

Red-voiced lice with cold tones said, "But you need to be quick; we do not have much time; Looker would be disappointed." You fought the impulse to give him a hard gaze.

"I am," You gritted through your teeth, "Don't pressure me."

Red gave you one more cold glance, first at the vehicle as it drove to the victim's house then at a crime scene. He looked dissatisfied by your lack of awareness and your self consicious, which could have made things simpler, and called for a day.

You might not have recognised it before, but he gives off an air of superiority, technology, and a strong sense of self. Working with humans does not appeal to Red, and working with androids does not appeal to you either. Your two frigid walls won't be melting any time soon until Red demonstrates some compassion and understanding.

Imagine your surprise if androids were to demonstrate empathy and feeling, even though it hasn't been shown that they do.

"The Victim named Carlos, had been stabbed 28 times—"

You halt him to stop; you don't need to be reminded too much today because Red observed that you were lacking in ability, which irritated you; you've only known him for a day, and he's a pain in the ass. You are not the kind of person who should be around someone like him reminding you what to do.

Unless is your mistakes but not now to think about it.

"I already know what it is, is already in the case, you don't have to remind me." You crossed your arms, standing your ground. "And I do not need your word of advice for the second time of the day."

With his arms clasped behind his back and his torso bowed, Red leans in as though he's kissing you, giving off the vibe of a menacing preschool principal who can make anyone feel uncomfortable with his taunting, scary aura.

"Word of advice," He begins, "Improve your skills and your awareness in your surroudings, and your attitude towards me. Just because I am a android doesn't mean you have the rights to talk back to your superior beings, you humans are fragile souls and one thing for sure death is near at your door steps anytime soon unless someone kept an eye on you."

Finally, you shoot him an icy gaze, "Woah now! I only met you for a day. Why so hard ass? What are you gonna do, report me to Looker?"

"Perhaps I am," Red pulls away, he dropped his arms at his side, he kept his superior and icy words going, "Unless you do what Looker told us."

What an ass.

You carried out the duties of a police officer and detective. Although it happens to most people you know, it is not your fault if the two of you have a chilly, terrifying first impression. Blue was an exception; despite his potential for misbehaviour, you choose to trust him.

Contrarily, Red disliked misbehaviour. In fact, when you first met him at the station today, you attempted to lighten the awkward silence, but he took it seriously.

"I pity people like you making... what's this? Jokes?"

You only joke about his appearance and he took it seriously, what the fuck?

You can't go back now that you're here though. Subsequently, you followed Red's trail from the rear, scrutinising the android as he collected proof and indications from the outset of Carlos' demise through the kitchen entry.

The kitchen was in worse shape. It had not been cleaned, and a group of Ratatas and Trubbish were taking over certain areas and eating whatever was left over after Carlos passed away, including moist food leftovers, takeout, trash bags, and possibly contaminated muddy water from where Carlos may have failed to fix his pipe.

Straining your nose from the foul stench, you return to the living room and observe Red kneeling at the drop of blood you failed to notice, licking it in his mouth with two fingers for analysis. You gauged from the inside, and this is not the first time he has done during this investigation; he did this as soon as the two of you entered at the living room.

"Will you stop putting whatever shit in your mouth?" You asked, making a face but it soon falters when Red gave you a glare: "Sorry."

"Do not interpret what I do," Red sneers, he walks toward you in a long stride that mimics like a predator ready to pounce at its prey: "I do not like to be disturbed."

You huffled at his words, his brows furrowed, and his fists balled up. You saw that he was suppressing his feelings, trying to project an air of superiority as usual, but he was failing to do so because you could see a hint of genuine human emotion in his eyes. It's possible that he has seen similar incidents previously, but you don't want to find out just yet because you two are running out of time and there's no time to argue.

"It's best if you end your partnership with me before things get worse," Red growls, his lips quivering to reveal his canine teeth as his gentle brown eyes meet yours. "I do not like you."

"And I do not like you either," You talked back, "No matter what you says, this is what I agree on, like it or not, you are my partner and we worked this together despite our differences."

Red has no choice but to be with you either, whether for his tasks or for other reasons. Nonetheless, he has had a nagging sense since the first time he saw you at the station, and he despised it so much that he had buried it deep within his system.

Yet... you're the first human who can put up with his attitude and he kinda likes it.

--------

English is not my first languange! This work can be found on wattpad, qoutev, and ao3 :)

Ao3/Qoutev/wattpad

Chapter 2

[norringtondeservestheworld]

Connor RK800 and Jaime Lannister: different characters with the same arc, but one work while the other don’t

It’s honestly driving me insane how similar and identical are the arcs of Connor RK800 from Detroit: Become Human and Jaime Lannister from Game of Thrones so yeah, now I’m gonna do an entire post (or meta?) about it. It’s gonna be long.

A little background for people who know only one of these fandoms.

Detroit: Become Human is about a future where robots are slaves of humans who abuse and torture them, so they started to “wake up” rebelling and developing free will and emotions like living beings. So the society who sell them create Connor, a very advanced robot designed to stop them.

Game of Thrones is an epic fantasy story set in a fictional world about different powerful families that fight with each other with wars and machinations to destroy each other and gain more power and the throne. Jaime Lannister is a member of one of these families.

These are two very different stories, but so are Connor and Jaime. They have opposite characters, goals and priorities: Jaime always put romantic love above anything else, while Connor doesn’t give a fuck about romance. Jaime is good in communicating with others: he knows how to talk to certain people, can read a room (at least sometimes) and he understands when is being mocked, while Connor is socially awkward and doesn’t really understand when someone is mocking him or someone is sarcastic.

And yet.. they both:

1) have the same beggining

2) are grey characters

3) have an obsession to overcome which is needed for them to develop as character (and if they fail to it, they both gets the involution and the “negative” arc)

4) have the same evolution (or involution, it depends of which arc we are talking about) and the same ending

1) The same beggining

Both these characters start with a child falling from a considerable height, but while one is causing the downfall of the child, the other is trying to save the kid.

The fact that Jaime is trying to kill the boy while Connor is trying to save the girl doesn’t mean that Jaime is the villain and Connor is the hero. It’s more complex than that. 

Jaime is trying to kill Bran because the boy just saw him having sex with his twin and if he says to anyone what he saw Jaime and his sister would have died. He did it to protect their lives. It wasn’t really about Bran. It was about him and Cersei.

On the other hand, Connor is trying to save Emma not because he cares for her or wants her to be safe, but because it’s his mission. He is a police android who knew really well, even before his arrival on the scene, that his mission was saving the child at all costs. If his mission was killing Emma he would have done it. It wasn’t really about Emma. It was about the mission.

2) are grey characters

Being in both fandoms, I noticed that Connor is way more popular than Jaime in terms of liking a character, while Jaime is more known as a character than Connor because Game of Thrones is more famous than Detroit: Become Human. Jaime is really loved by a part of the got fandom, but the other part look at him as selfish and evil because of everything he did, while Connor is loved by 98% of the dbh fandom, but in truth Connor’s actions aren’t better than Jaime’s actions. I think this happens because:

a) Jaime’s actions are motivated by his incestual and toxic relationship with his sister, so I think some people tend to dislike him more not for the actual actions but because of their disgust about the incest part

b) Connor being socially awkward. There is this tendency to see characters who are socially awkward being always sweet and cinnamon rolls because they aren’t good at communicating with others

In the first case, Jaime’s actions aren’t worse than Connor’s, are only more disgusting which is different and for the second option, Connor isn’t socially awkward because he can’t hurt a fly. He can and he will. He is socially awkward because he is an android created to be a police officer, so they gave him good combat skills and the intelligence he needed to deal with deviants (that’s how are called the robots who developed free will and “woke up”). I assure you, he isn’t awkward when he has to deal with them. Connor was created to do this. He isn’t an android created to make friends, so why bother to give him social skills?

Let’s make a recap:

What Jaime did:

a) tried to kill Bran to protect his relationship with Cersei. But did Bran die? No.

b) threatened Edmure and his kids to return to Cersei? Okay, but did Edmure die? Again, no.

c) fucked Cersei next to their son’s corpse who just died. Disgustingly disgusting. But again, someone got hurt? Someone died?

d) killed his cousin to return to Cersei. Okay. Fair. One person died.

Let’s talk about Connor now. He:

a) Manipulated and lied to deviants to accomplish his mission 

b) can kill Daniel, the Tracis, Ortiz’s android, Rupert, Cloe, Simon, Markus, North and a lot of other androids (and humans too) to accomplish his mission

c) can kill Hank, which is the closest person he has in his life, to accomplish his mission

Connor is not a baby. He is a fucking terminator who can destroy anything that it moves to accomplish his mission. Yes, Detroit: Become Human is a game where the actions of the characters are decided by the gamer, so he can do these things or don’t, but if you decide to make him do these things you never got the feeling he’s out of character. Because he is not.

Yes Jaime is what he is and did the things we know, but Connor too did some messed up things. And I’m pretty sure he killed more and caused more pain than Jaime.

At the end of the game, when he has to locate Jericho to stop the leader of the revolution of the deviants, he is able to remove the head of one android he killed to use it against an another android (killed by Connor too) to get the location of Jericho and after that he drops the head as it was nothing.

But at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter who is worse between Jaime and Connor. What I am trying to say it’s that they are both grey characters. They both started as negative characters. Yes, Connor too. Because even if you choose every possible good and positive choice with Connor, he is still a negative character at the beginning. He is a very advanced robot at humans side (humans that are clearly the villains since they are the ones abusing and torturing robots) which priority is hunting androids who just want to be free. It doesn’t really matter if he isn’t the one to kill them, because he knows really well that if he succeeds (and he wants to succeed) they get killed. 

That’s why both Connor and Jaime have two paths in front of them. And what path they’ll take it depends by the next point.

3) have an obsession to overcome which is needed for them to develop as a character

Both Jaime and Connor, despite starting as negative characters, have the potential to have a redemption arc, but this is up to them and to get it they have an obstacle to overcome: their obsession.

For Jaime the obsession for Cersei, for Connor the obsession for his mission. 

This obsession is what motivated their story and all their actions. It’s there from the beggining. From the moment they tried to kill/save the child. Jaime did it for Cersei. Connor did it for his mission. Every “negative” thing they did was because of that. In the last point, where I made a list of the bad things they did, you can notice all these actions were motivated by that.

To both of them happened things during the story that could or couldn’t change them: Jaime had it with Brienne, a noble and honorable warrior who reminded him who he wanted to be and for the first time in his life he developed a romantic attraction toward someone who wasn’t his sister, and Connor had it with Hank, the human police officer he worked with who had a way more “human” approach to what they were investigating.

For both of them is really hard to overcome it because it’s all they know for most of their life (in case of Jaime) or are programmed to do it (in case of Connor) and it isn’t only something they had in their heads. Both of them got manipulated by people (Cersei for Jaime, Amanda for Connor) who did the best they could to convince them there wasn’t anything else to make sure they remained in this cage for their own interests.

To prevent them from becoming their own person and being free to be who they want to be, and not what they want them to be.

This it’s the Jaime and Connor arc. Becoming their own person. Choosing for themselves. Be free from the manipulations. And the two arcs they have in front of them are just one in which they succeed, and one in which they fail.

4) have the same evolution (or involution, it depends of which arc we are talking about) and the same ending

Both Connor and Jaime have the potential for a redemption arc because even after all those bad things they did because of their obsession, they did good things too. They aren’t monsters.

Jaime saved Brienne risking his life and saved her from being raped. He also saved milions of lives by murdering the king, even if that meant getting the nickname of Kingslayer.

Connor can save Hank. Can choose to not kill the Tracis. Can choose to not kill Cloe. Can help Markus to save North. 

They mostly did all these things when they were away from the toxic person who brings the worst of them (Amanda and Cersei) but near someone who bring the best of them (Hank, Tyrion and Brienne).

And the best part is that all these good actions they did went against their priority: for Connor saving Hank means letting the deviant go, when catching him was his mission. Jaime returning to Harrenhal to save Brienne means delay his coming back to Cersei, when Cersei is the most important thing to him. 

Despite both having all their life surrounded by this “obsession”, sometimes they decided to do the right thing even if that meant going against what mattered to them the most and their own interests.

This didn’t mean that they weren’t obsessed anymore, it means that for a moment, their desire to be their own person was stronger than their obsession.

But it was just a moment.

Connor and Jaime, for most of the story, are in a “limbo” where they pass from doing bad things because of their obsession (most of the times) to doing good things because they want to (few times). During this part of their story, it doesn’t mean that if they do a bad thing they’ll go to the negative arc and it doesn’t mean that if they do a good thing they’ll go to the positive arc, because none of these decisions are the definitive one.

It’s the decision they will take in their climax scene is the one that determines their future, their arc and their ending.

a) They decide to do the right thing which go against their obsession in their climax scene because they matured as characters for the better -> Their strenght and everything and everyone they faced was enough to overcome their obsession -> they become their own person letting go forever the obsession -> Positive Arc

Jaime: Book!Jaime is currently having this arc in the books, where is pretty done with Cersei and doesn’t even think of returning to her knowing really well she needs him. And this is also the arc Show!Jaime was supposed to have in the series.

Connor: Deviant Connor is the arc Connor will have if he overcome his obsession. He will become a deviant (meaning he outpassed his programation and became his own person) and will join the revolution of the androids, the very same revoution that he was created to stop (and he was obsessed to stop it, since it was his mission). He will infiltrate in the society that creates androids freeing all the robots who are there (and they are a lot) and helps the cause. In the end, he will help robots getting rights as living beings and he will be free to be himself with a person who actually care for him (Hank) with their relationship being stronger.

b) They decide to do the same bad things they did at the beginning being once again slaves of their obsession -> everything and everyone they faced didn’t change them showing that they didn’t matured and didn’t learn anything -> nothing will never be as important as their obsession -> Negative Arc

Jaime: Show!Jaime got this (or at least D&D thought he got this). He received an opportunity to have a better and new life, a life with Brienne who loved him and in doing so he was able to be himself, but he ruined it to return to his obsession who almost got him killed few days before because he wasn’t able to overcome it. So he returned to his obsession (Cersei) and dies.

Connor: Machine Connor is the arc Connor will have if he fails to overcome his obsession. He too received an opportunity to do the right thing, to help his people and be free, but he ruined it to continue his mission. So he will kill everyone who stands in his way (Hank too, who was the closest person of his life) to murder the leader of the deviants. If he fails, he dies. If he succeed and he is able to kill him, all the deviants will be destroyed (meaning there will be a genocide of his own people) and androids will return to be slaves for humans for ever. And Connor will die, because he accomplished his mission so he isn’t needed anymore. Connor is intended to die either way if he goes to this path.

Both Jaime and Connor, if they have a failed redemption arc, return to their old manners and how they were at the beginning, and both died. So..

Why an arc work and the other don’t?

Why an arc is appreciated and considered a sad but good storyline and plausible with no characters being ruined while the other is hated by everyone with all the characters who are involved being ruined and OOC?

For multiple reasons actually.

1) the climax scene

The scene where the character finally take a definitive decision and his path is chosen can’t be a random scene because it’s not a random scene. It’s the scene where the destiny of the character is chosen, so it has to:

- be important and people who are watching it (or reading it if it’s a book) must know it and feel it that something big is coming 

- every factor (the music, the acting, the dialogue etc) must be cured for that scene 

The climax scene they chose and wrote for Connor work perfectly because has all these requirements:

a) Connor and Markus are two of the main characters of the story but never actually met each other before this scene, so from the moment you realize they are in the same room and they actually met you know something big is gonna happen. Moreover, we know Connor is there to kill the leader of the deviants, which is Markus, so you also feel tense because you are gonna see two characters you got attached to being an enemy to each other because they are at opposite sides so again, something’s gonna happen.

b) The music is fitting for the scene, the acting of Bryan Dechart (Connor’s actor) is good as he entered sure of himself but the more Markus talked the more Connor realized he was right so he becomes less secure until he is full of doubts and all the dialogue is about him having to make a choice about who he wants to be. And as if that weren't enough, Markus ends it with “I think the time has come to you for ask yourself that question” and “it’s time to decide” making perfectly clear that this choice is gonna be definitive, and he is saying it not only to Connor but to us too.

Now let’s see the Jaime one.

a) It’s important? I have absolutely no idea. It doesn’t look or feel important. 

b) the music is fitting? There was music? I honestly don’t remember. I can’t notice the music because I’m busy to try to understand what the fuck is going on. The dialogue is fitting? What dialogue? All Jaime is saying here is a list of the bad things he did because of Cersei (including lies since some things he says didn’t happen that way just to confuse who is watching even more) and “She is hateful and so am I” like?? What does it mean? This is not a dialogue. This is putting random words together to do a sentence. The acting is fitting? Lmao of course not! Waldau’s acting is really confusing??? Why he looks sad? Why all he is saying is that he is a bad person and not a word about  who he wants to be? This isn’t a grey character who decided is path, this is someone who feels guilty for something he did in the past and wants to be reassured and or he feels like he deserves pain and death because of it. Well if this is the case, than this is a totally different topic that has nothing to do with choosing between overcome an obsession or succumb to it. Fuck, it’s been 4 years since this scene, and I still don’t understand what the fuck is going on and what they wanted to show. What the fuck I am watching?? Can someone explains it to me?? Hello???

This doesn’t look like a climax scene. And it doesn’t look like a climax scene because IT’S NOT.

Because Jaime had already his climax scene.

a) it’s important? Well yes. The time tells us it is. This is a series and this scene is happening at the end of a season so people expect it to be important.

b) The music is fitting? Very. You could feel it in your bones. The dialogue is fitting? Yes. They don’t talk directly about Jaime and him having to take a decision, but it’s related to that because we see Jaime and Cersei arguing about something and Jaime realizing he had enough (just like Connor in his climax scene is realizing who he truly is) and he decides right here not because he has to but because he is 100% sure of what he wants and decides with zero regrets.

This climax scene was setting Jaime on the positive arc, because he overcomed his obsession. His obsession is Cersei and the sexual relationship he has with her, but here he decides to leave her, and ending the conversation saying “I don’t believe you” and by the acting, the voice and the movements of Waldau, which is excellent, we know he meant “I don’t love you anymore”.

All of this is even more accentuated by this scene that happens soon after that:

Cersei and the relationship with her being the obsession of Jaime means that if he kisses, sleeps and starts a romantic relationship with a different woman (which he did) after he spent the 40+ years of his life always being loyal to Cersei is the ultimate, irrefutable prove that he got over it. It doesn’t matter how much he loves Brienne, if he still obsesses over Cersei it couldn’t never happened. Never. You can’t make him overcome an obsession and then return to that obsession in a minute. This is not how writing works.

But since Benioff and Weiss don’t know how to do their jobs, after these two scenes (the climax one and the second which accentuated the path Jaime is in) they put the scene they think it’s the climax scene, when it’s just a scene that doesn’t work narratively after the two I just mentioned. Which add another problem:

the decision the character takes in the climax scene is definitive and irreversible. You can’t just put a climax scene where the character decides and then one second later make him change his mind all of sudden. Him passing from a good action to a bad one was supposed to happen before the climax scene, when the character was still grey and still couldn’t decide and the reason both Connor and Jaime decide without doubts and regrets in their climax scene is because they both have no doubts and regrets anymore. 

In Detroit: Become Human, every action Connor did and every word he says after that scene is convinced, there is not even a shadow of a doubt, no matter which arc is in. Despite the game giving you the choices of what to do or say, you’ll never get a choice of Connor helping the deviants if he is Machine Connor, and you’ll never get a choice of Connor helping the humans if the is Deviant Connor. Because it’s irreversible. There is no going back.

So what we got was a mess and both arcs of Jaime being ruined even before they started.

2) OOC

Both Connor and Jaime being grey characters for most of the story means that is possible to write them a good written arc where they remain in character all the time without putting forced things and making them say and do something they wouldn’t, no matter if they are in a positive or negative arc.

Connor remains himself and in character for the entirely of his arc (no matter which arc is). If he is Machine Connor so he has the negative arc, his character doesn’t get reduced to a caricature and he doesn’t lose his intelligence or badass moments, and he still says and does things that Connor would have totally said or done. 

The fact that now is Machine Connor doesn’t mean he is a sociopath who doesn’t care of anything else, it does only mean that everything always comes after his obsession (the mission) because that obsession is and will always be until his death is priority, everything else is after that. That’s part of the reason his character isn’t ruined. He still cares for Hank for example, and when he dies, he looks troubled and in one case he is the one to kill him, and he does it because Hank gets in the way of his mission, which matters more, so he did it, even if he still cared about him. 

He also doesn’t become stupid all of sudden because he is intended to die. Machine Connor is smart enough to know that the best way to kill Markus is finding a sniper rifle and the right roof and he is smart enough to know that if he gets interrupted the only way for him to accomplish his mission is killing who interrupted him or killing himself after saving his memory so the next Connor will know what to do. He also doesn’t have to move to the other side of the country in two seconds with the story being set in the same city, so he is where is supposed to be without resorting to absurd and improbable teleporters. Machine Connor gets emotional and poetic scenes without getting ruined to force them.

Jaime, from the moment he left Brienne to return to Cersei (so from the moment the writers think his arc begins) becomes a totally different person. He starts to say and do things that contradict his character, the writers were able to destroy years spent to create this character and who he is with a single sentence. Everything that was important to him apart from Cersei disappears, and the things that made him an interesting character like killing the king to protect the innocents have zero value now, because “actually I never cared for them, innocents or otherwise”. Cersei isn’t his priority. Cersei is the only thing he cares about, because the writers deleted every single other part of him and at the end, he isn’t even a character anymore.

He doesn’t only lose all his intelligence, but simple common sense too, all to force scenes that could have happened in a smarter way, like him having to get unnoticed to get to Cersei and yet he shows his golden hand which is the only one to have in all Westeros, just to get caught and have the scene with Tyrion. And of course, he is able to arrive to the other part of the country even before characters who left before him in a blink of an eye because the writers decided so and fuck logic. 

3) Realistic reactions to the characters around them

Both Show!Jaime and Machine Connor have, just before the end and their death, a scene with a character they care about and who cares for them: Tyrion for Jaime and Hank for Connor. In both cases, the way they write the main character it expands to the other character too, meaning that since Jaime is OOC, Tyrion becomes OOC too to force the scene the writers wanted for them, while in the other case since Connor is in character, Hank is in character too, and it’s the scene that is written in a way to be plausible because of these characters, and not the opposite. 

Jaime got caught in his way to return to Cersei and he meets Tyrion. The last time they talked Jaime was still in a relationship with Brienne (which lasted weeks, let’s remember that) and Tyrion expressed how happy he was that Jaime was happy with Brienne because he cares for Jaime wants him to be happy while now is in front of a tormented Jaime who left Brienne, the same woman that was making Jaime happy, to return to the one that abused and tried to kill BOTH OF THEM, and he decides to.. help him to return to Cersei so he will return to be miserable and probably die (and he will)? 

The writers were so desperate to make a scene of them hugging to make watchers cry sad tears that forgot in which situation these characters are, with who they are and what we know about them and what type of relationship they have with each other and with Cersei. It would never ended with hugging. Why Tyrion should help the brother he loves to leave what made him happy and return to the one who hurted both for all their lives? Once again the characters are ruined by forcing a specific scene, a scene that because of it meant nothing to me. Yes, Jaime and Tyrion had a beautiful relationship and a great bond and I love the scenes where they show how close they are. But these aren’t Jaime and Tyrion anymore. So I feel nothing (and nope, I’m not going to create gifs of that idiotic scene from that cursed episode, if you wanna see it just go to Youtube).

Connor and Hank have a very strong relationship too, but they remain in character. Hank wanted Connor being himself and freeing himself from his obsession (just like Tyrion wanted Jaime to be happy, with Brienne) but on the contrary of Tyrion, Hank didn’t forget who he was because it was “convenient” so he has the realistic reaction he was supposed to have, and because of that this time there aren’t gonna be hugs and sweet words, but a fight.

With “fight” I don’t mean they’ll gonna scream and push each other, with “fight” I mean a real fight, that will end only with one of them killing the other. 

Machine Connor is gonna follow his mission and killing everyone who stand in his way (in this case, unfortunately it’s Hank) even if he cares for Hank and Hank is not gonna let Connor kill the leader of the androids because it’s not right and by now he knows that the only way to stop him is to kill him and he will, even if he cares for Connor. And they both know it.

And that is what makes the scene powerful and way more emotional than a fake hug between two fake characters who became the shadows of themselves. It’s real, it’s tragically beautiful and sad, poetic in a way (a robot fighting for humans and a human fighting for the robots) but it works.

Of course having Jaime and Tyrion fighting to death wouldn’t make sense. Connor and Hank are doing it because they had a different relationship from them. They knew each other for less time and even if they care for each other, they had a rocky start so them having this interaction is fitting to them. Jaime and Tyrion are siblings who cared for each other since ever, so their clash couldn’t be that violent, but they had to have a clash. Tyrion being disappointed in Jaime and refusing to free him was enough. But we all know what we got, right?

In conclusion, I’d like to say that I made this meta first to analyze Jaime and Connor as characters because I find really interesting they had so much in common and also because I’m fucking tired of people saying that “Jaime’s arc was perfect you simply didn’t get the happy ending you wanted for him” because Machine Connor arc is the prove that is possible to write a failed redemption arc which is satisfying and appreciated, and Detroit: Become Human is written by David Cage which isn’t the best screenwriter in the world, but he is in the Olympus compared to the writing of D&D.

Machine Connor and Show!Jaime have exactly the same arc (and the same ending), the only difference is that one is written well and the other isn’t, and it’s really crazy thinking of how the writing of a fucking videogame which isn’t even that famous is better than the finale of one of the most famous series in the world.

[nickeverdeen]

i'm back

(and yes, being your friend would be really cool :)

Let's say you're going to a desert island, you can bring one character per fandom with you to help you to survive. Which character you probably choosing of each fandom and why?

(P.s: As much as I like the Klaus Hargreeves, I wouldn't choose him. Why? He would just try to plant weed, I doubt that man knows shit about survival. Cof cof neither do I Cof cof)

Hey, mate. Good to hear from you again

Shit, you got creative 😅

“Per fandom” you mean like from each fandom? If that’s the case then:

Overwatch - probably Tracer. I mean girl knows stuff and can literally pick you up and run like tons of meters in matter of seconds if there would be danger in coming. Or Genji as he probably knows how to survive, but we’d probably kill each other

Maze Runner - Sonya. She’s smart and definetly knows how to survive

Hunger Games - Finnick Odair. My man knows what he’s doing, like sure he isn’t the only one who won the Hunger Games, but in Catching Fire his allies… well would be dead without him, I mean sure Katniss also knows how to survive, but c’mon, she ain’t that experienced as Finnick

Harry Potter - Easy, Hermione Granger. Surely we’d have arguments sometimes, but we’d literally have that dynamic of “one is brain one is strength”

Arcane - Kidna tricky, but I’m going with Vi. I was thinking Caitlyn, but she’s more book-smart than street-smart and you kidna need street smartness in these situations

Divergent - As much as I hate to say it I’m going with Caleb Prior. He’s smart and would just say what would be the best way to survive. Plus he’d work extra hard to get out of there alive ‘cause he wouldn’t last a good day with me there

The 100 - This is kidna also tricky. I’m gonna go with Clarke as she’s a medic and is really smart (at least in the books) and like sure I could choose Lexa or Raven, but Lexa would probably end up killing me and I don’t think that Raven despite being smarter than both Clarke and Lexa… she’s smart with machines…

Detroit Become Human - Easy. Connor RK800 deviat. He’s ready for survival, like fuck empathy etc. If we gotta survive we gotta be smart. So Connor is smart af and skilled af and by him being a deviant and not a machine, he’d be more open to do things that aren’t part of his program.

The Legend of Korra - Yeah normally I’d say Korra, but I’m going with Kuvira on this one. She’s always five bloody steps ahead of others and it’s a desert. And what’s in desert under the sand. Earth. She could literally do anything

Avatar The Last Airbender - Okay I’ve got two options here. Either Katara or Aang. If there would be near some sea or ocean we’re going bon voyage home, but if there wouldn’t be I’d go with Aang ‘cause he literally masters air. Bon voyage guys, we’re flying home

The Arrow - Sara Lance. As much as I’d say Oliver I think he’d make some fucked up decision, but with Sara… we’d survive… mainly thanks to her though…

The Umbrella Academy - If it were only about surviving then it’s easy. Five. Like bon voyage teleport us away from the danger or home and you’re literally an assasin

The Sparrow Academy - Everyone there is an idiot so if I’m gonna die then let me at least die with someone funny like Jayme

The Last of Us 1 - Joel. He knows what he’s doing, he’s not old yet so he doesn’t have so many body barriers

The Last of Us 2 - Now, I know I wouldn’t choose Joel as now he’s older and surely his body wouldn’t be able to take some things like it would when he was younger. So I’m kidna torn between Dina or Ellie. Dina is smart along with Ellie, but probably Dina as she wouldn’t be “first punch then ask” 24/7

Horizon Zero Dawn - Aloy. Easy. As much as it’d be due to being smart better with Sylens one of us would be definetly dead by noon, Aloy is both smart and strong and we’d get along

Spider-Man Across the Spiderverse - Pavitr. Let’s face it, if I’m gonna die let me die with someone funny

Nimona - Uh… Nimona probably as she’d shapeshift into a bloody dragon and we’re flying home or at least getting rid of the danger

Outer Banks - Well… um… Cleo? She’s street-smart af and we need that. Or JJ, but we’d probably end up fucked up as things would go down the hill

Five Nights at Freddy’s - Vanessa. We’d figure something out and I’m sure she knows a thing of two about survival

Afton Family - Michael Afton. We’re both gonna die, but at least it’ll be a bit funny and we’d have some good convos

The Old Guard - Ah um… Andy or Nile. Like… okay Andy as she’s experienced af and she sure knows what to do and we’d definetly not be bored

Willow - Okay, my first thought was Elora, but no. We wouldn’t make it. So Jade is the safest option here I think. She’s smart, brave, rational, quick on her feet and determinated

Percy Jackson serie - Probably Luke Castellan. We all saw what he is like and how smart he is. And now sure the question would be “well why not Annabeth?” ‘Cause Annabeth from the show is straight up a bitch

Percy Jackson books - Annabeth. ‘Cause this Annabeth I trust to make smart decisions

[enkisstories]

It's strange that despite having both Gavin Reed and General Hux in my current save, they haven't interacted even once.

In my head I have that mental image of them sitting at the same table, Gavin with a black coffee, Hux with a fruit tea, and venting about their nemeses (Connor RK800 and Kylo Ren, respectively).

Gavin: "Who does that tin can even think it is, strutting in here as if it owned the place? With its neatly ironed shirt and tie..."

Armitage: "He isn't even part of the command hierarchy, just Snoke's pet. And how hard can it be to get a haircut, when apparently he knows how to shave?"

Gavin: "Stuck-up..."

Armitage: "Head in the sky..."

Gavin: "With that stupid smile...

Armitage: "Weed smoking..."

Gavin: "Dipshit!"

Armitage: "Nerf-herder!"

(Both: "Uh, not you.")

Gavin: "He never walked the streets for a single day. It's apps and data stuffed into that thing all the way."

Armitage: "Apprenticed to Skywalker at the age of ten? In my book that translates to middle school dropout."

Gavin: "I have a track record of solved cases that rivals Hank's. Yet everytime a promotion comes up, they pretend I don't exist. They already call what is a piece of sophisticated equipment "detective"!"

Armitage: "I got trained by the founder of the First Order since I was a child. I built a better Death Star. I deserve to lead us more than a glowstick wielding mutant!"

Gavin: "So what if I elbowed the occasional co-worker and never pay a dime into the kitty? I always stop just short of sabotaging their cases."

Armitage: "So what if I killed two fellow Generals! The First Order is overall more efficient without them."

(At one point they may realize that the other looks and acts closer to their nemesis than to themselves and part ways.)

Gavin: "Phck."

Armitage: "Pfft."

Also interestingly Gavin has no canon backstory, but in my headcanon he was spoiled rotten by a poor (and briefly also criminal) couple, while Armitage was beaten and humiliated by his upstanding General of a "father".

(If anyone wants to draw or image edit this, feel free to!)

[negative-citadel]

For the dbh ask game: 3, 14, 17, 18 💙

I'm apologizing ahead of time because I ramble like hell. LOL Thank you for the ask!

3. Which character do you relate the most to?

Aaaaah, almost really hard to answer. I relate to most of the characters in the game to some degree. Grew up in a broken home like Alice, taken in & cared for people like Kara. I can go on and on but if there's a character I really, really relate to - It's probably Luther, the protector, guardian, however you want to refer to him. He really deserves more lines but I can firmly say I can relate to giving everything in my power to see those around me be safe. I won't type an essay about it because my response is long enough but I can really relate to Luther in many ways.

In a way, I've also really related to Hank lately but I don't want to trauma dump on here or make anyone worried.

14. How do you feel about Kara’s role in the game compared to her role in the Kara short?

Admitly - I'm torn. I actually love both. When I first saw the Kara Short (as a bonus in Beyond: Two Souls), I thought it was AMAZING. I remember my brother and I saying "I wish they'd turn that into a full game". Lmao, and obviously they did. However, I feel in-game Kara is faaaaaaaar different than the Kara in the short. The short is, well, short, and says what it needs to convey and shows Kara moreso as an android that just wants to live life free, whereas in the game, Kara does have those wants, but her main goal is to protect Alice. I love them both and her story in the game is very much packed with the angst I know & love... It's hard to choose which I like more but the Kara short is probably better written (let's face it, it's harder to have plot holes in a 7 minute video rather than a long video game with branching paths).

17. Favorite moments of each playable character?

Oh I have sooo many but I'll try to narrow it down to 2 for each character.

Markus: I love his introduction with Carl. I know the subtext is bad but the moment Markus does his painting, always swells my heart (I think it's partially the amazing soundtrack that gives me emotions). All of the different arts he makes are just...sooo good.

However, I also ADORE crossroads & I love Markus making his way down to blow up the ship while rescuing any androids can. Oh the music, the action, I love it lol.

Kara: There's so many moments I love with Kara. The river endings always have me sobbing my eyes out lol (even if both Alice & Kara make it). I do love the humanity in when you enter the checkpoint and the soldier hands Alice back one of her gloves. I always found it really heartwarming.

Also, Kara talking with Rose. The two just feel like really close friends and Rose cares for Alice on the same level Kara does, I feel. At the final checkpoint at the border, I love Kara finally being able to cry & getting one last hug from Rose before you hopefully make good choices. LOL

Connor: Oh man, hard to choose but I will ALWAYS laugh at Connor breaking into Hank's house via the window...then "Sumo, attack! ...good dog." It gets me every time. Connor convincing Hank to go to the Eden Club in the most sly and manipulative way - I love Russian Roulette as a chapter so much. The depressing subtext is just, *chef kiss*. I love angst & I also love humor.

Then, the chase in the nest. Watching Connor just gun it and run, doing stunts that are impossible for a human being. The music, the action, watching our RK800 dash at probably 15 or 25 mph. Idk, I love it. I'm a sucker for it everytime. I also feel obliged to mention the "I like dogs" & the interrogation sequence. I'm a sucker for interrogation scenes in movies, games, etc. (I also love his little chat sessions with Amanda).

18. Which NPC gave you the most feels?

It's hard to just pick one! Rose gives me mega feels when she brings up how hard it's been since her husband passed. Alice for - obvious reasons. Hank's self destruction, past, addiction, I've seen it irl, I've been it irl. I feel so sorry for him. North - just thinking about her history. It is sooooooooo hard not to feel bad for all the NPCs. I really can't pick one. D:

Thank you for the ask! :D

[unstablerk800]

Party Punch

Pairing: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader

Rating: Mature (I'm lazy, everything is mature)

Warnings: none really, harmless fluff (wind down fic in between Soulless chapters, haha!)

Description: A hot priest and a hot vampire appears at the Halloween party and someone spiked the punch. That is definitely a recipe for disaster for you and your friend.

Word count: 2,909

Read on Ao3.

Chapter 1.: Nines

Chapter 2.: Connor 🔽

A smile is the shortest distance between two people.

As you watched your friend leave with Nines, head hung in shame, you blessed your luck that you weren't caught red handed by your own android crush just yet.

Even if you couldn't help giving signs all this time.

You could vividly remember when and how it started. You were moved to murder investigation almost two years ago, along with your partner, and Connor was already there. You got a nice little desk with your friend and of course, you were unlucky enough that you had a wonderful view over that cute android.

It shouldn't sound bad, but it was. Because you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

It wasn't the fact he wasn't human; you've had met other androids and treated them as you'd treat any other human, but there was something more to Connor. You couldn't put a finger on what it was.

And then there was the first time of you meeting him…

"Wow, this looks good", you nudged your friend as you spotted the empty desk where you two would sit. You already noticed your name tag. "Much better than Southfield."

"Ugh", your friend rolled her eyes as you reminded her of your previous city. You both lived in Southfield before you moved over to Detroit; especially because of the android revolution. Both of you were curious how humans and androids lived together. "Stop reminding me of that shithole. I'm so glad we got away."

And there he was. The first to walk up to you both. Still in his standard RK800 attire, with the LED still at his temple. He didn't follow others' examples; it seemed he was perfectly fine with how he looked before the revolution.

"Good morning. I'm Detective Connor Anderson, partner of Lieutenant Anderson. Welcome to Detroit. I've heard so much about you both."

He offered you his hand and you stared at it before you stared up in his face, eyes wide open. You've never seen an android like him; none of them were this expressive, this casual, this nice, this… handsome…

Oh God, you were lost in his eyes within two seconds. You forgot instantly what he was talking about.

You said something – something unintelligable that made him look very confused. You noticed his LED spun with brighter blue for a moment, and you were terrified he scanned you. He probably did. And he probably could clearly see that your pulse skyrocketed; your heart misbehaved like never before. You've been dealing with difficult cases before and you've been in a few near-death situations so far, but your heart never beat as fast and hard as it did now.

Could humans short circuit? Because you were pretty much sure you short circuited.

"What a warm welcome!" Your friend got you out of trouble as you changed colours like a chameleon: first you went as red as a rose, then you went as white as marble. Your friend grabbed Connor's offered hand and shook it. His attention shifted to her, and you could breathe again. "I'm sure we're both looking forward to work with you, Connor!"

They had a little friendly banter while you were still speechless at the sight of him. All you could manage was a weak smile, which he returned before he walked back to his desk. You quickly found out where the restrooms were and promptly locked yourself in in one of the booths to hide in your shame.

"Hey", your friend joined you after a few minutes as you were sitting on the closed toilet with your face hidden in your hands. "Are you okay?"

"Did you even see him??" You whined as you unlocked the door for her. She joined you with an exciting look on her face, closing the door behind herself with a big smirk. "Oh my God-"

"Yeah I did, although I didn't make a complete idiot of myself like you did", she sniggered and you hid your face with your hands again.

"Why do they make androids this way??"

"I'm convinced they're doing it on a purpose. Fuckin' CyberLife. They want to take over the world, mark my words."

"How the Hell will I concentrate?! I've never felt like this in the presence of a- of anyone-"

"Yeah, I know. But you can't work from the toilet", she laughed, patting your shoulder. "We've gotta go and talk to Fowler."

Later that day – after you've tried to get over your emotions and focus on your damned job which was nearly impossible – your friend had a similar reaction when Detective Gavin Reed and his partner, an RK900 android – also Detective – nicknamed Nines entered the DPD.

You've made a conscious effort not to stare, and you placed your hand over your mouth as you appeared to be really immersed in a file on your screen, but your partner was reduced to the same state as you were in when you've met Connor. At least neither Nines nor Gavin felt the need to introduce themselves. They ignored you both.

That was the day when both of you felt like Earth became Hell. Because from that day, neither of you could spend a single day without thinking about them. It was a curse. You wished to get rid of it, and you turned to desperate measures, especially after the celebration of Fourth of July earlier that same year.

As you stared down at your punch in your hand, any good feelings you've gathered with your friend here at the Halloween party faded away. As the memories of the Fourth of July party you've both went to flooded your mind, you couldn't help but feel your throat tighten.

It was held outside. Everyone was invited – a few didn't attend, including Nines, and that fact made your friend very sad, but that was nothing what you had to go through.

You've kept every little emotion to yourself for months. You were very careful earlier that year with your Valentine's card, too; there was no way Connor could figure out who sent it because you were determined not to leave any traces he could follow back to you behind. Quite hard to fool two androids, but it seemed to work. Neither of them behaved differently than before. Nines still was reserved and quiet, and Connor still was friendly and helpful.

But Fourth of July made you rethink your wish to work in Detroit.

There were a few other androids working at the station. Some of them were just outside in the waiting area, registering anyone who wanted to enter; officers, suspects and visitors alike. One of them – a rather beautiful one, at that – joined your group as she'd been invited by someone, and before the celebration started, you also had a pretty good guess who could've invited her.

You weren't near enough to hear what they were talking about. Frankly, it wasn't even your business. Connor appeared to be polite, as always, while she was more on the physical side. The problem was that he took his jacket off so they could sit on it in the grass, and he rolled up the sleeves of his stark white shirt, exposing his perfectly shaped arms – which she kept stroking, making jealousy bubble up in your gut –, and thus, you couldn't help but look at him from time to time to just appreciate the view, and keep an eye on her, just in case.

And at one time when you glanced over at him, you saw that she leaned closer to him to kiss his lips.

It shouldn't've had such an effect on you. Clearly, you were nobody to control who he could or couldn't hook up with. He was free to do whatever he wished, with whoever he wished. But your mouth went dry, your heart felt like it stopped and dropped to your stomach, and all you heard was static noise as you scrambled to your feet and promptly left. Your friend said your name but you didn't stop walking – which turned to running as you started to cry, then to sob. You fumbled with your keys and quickly got in your car and you started to drive home; thinking back, you were really irresponsible as you barely could see from your tears.

Almost four months passed by, and it still left you with a terrible feeling. You didn't know whether they started to date at that time or not; once again, it wasn't your business. In the past few months you've tried to focus more on your job and also tried to flirt with people, but they never evolved into long term dating. People came and went and you felt stupid and lonely.

You walked over to the table where the punch was and poured yourself another glass. Sighing, you started to drink. Alcohol maybe would help you to forget that memory, and maybe it'd also help you to focus on other things. Getting drunk, for example.

"May I have this dance?"

The voice made you choke on the punch. Despite your best efforts, you blushed up to the tip of your ears as you coughed and tried to breathe, turning to stare up at Connor. He looked polite and smart, even dressed as a posh vampire. His fake fangs were missing, you noticed, when he smiled down at you.

"What?" You managed to cough out, placing down the punch on the table.

"May I have this dance?" Connor repeated as patiently as possible, offering you his right hand.

You glanced down at his palm, then back up in his face, as if you were suspecting there was a trap. There had to be, right? When he saw you furrowing your brows, he tilted his head slightly. You could never get used to those beautiful eyes of his. You couldn't get enough of the sight of them. Especially when they were boring into yours.

"Please", he added ever so softly, making your legs feel like jelly.

"Sure", you managed to push through your frozen lips, then you gently placed your left hand in his right.

You were a hundred percent sure that electricity ran through you the second he touched you directly. You tried to recall if this ever happened, but you couldn't remember. You didn't accept his hand when he greeted you when you arrived in Detroit, after all, and you did your best to stay out of his way and view. You never liked to be loud and noticeable around your crushes. You simply... admired them from afar. Dreaming, but never acting upon it.

And now, you had your little hand in his big, strong palm. Unbelievable. His fingers were warm as they wrapped around your hand; soft and gentle and perfect. Just as you pictured it.

"I'm glad Nines took your partner home", Connor stated with a little smile, guiding you a few meters towards the dance floor.

An uncharacteristically slow song played, and Connor did not waste the time to slip his free hand on the small of your waist. You panicked. He was suddenly so very, very close, too close to you. Your arm automatically slid up on his shoulder, your brain barely registering how he was guiding you to dance. Your legs nearly gave out. At least it was dark, so hopefully nobody saw you on the brink of fainting because of Connor.

"Yeah?" You nearly whimpered, making his smile wider. You were mesmerized by his gaze; you couldn't possibly tear your eyes away from his face. "Why?"

"Because I can finally talk to you in private."

"About what?"

The question was automatic. You were so unaware of your approaching doom. You also failed to notice that Connor was in his no-nonsense mood. He was smiling, but he looked so determined to get the truth out of you.

"About your feelings."

Your eyes widened just slightly. Thankfully, you were drunk enough not to break away from him immediately, but he had a good grip on you anyway. Still, you snorted and looked away, only for Connor to pull you right back, even closer against him, making you stare up in his eyes again, colouring your cheeks crimson again.

"No, you won't run. Not this time."

You didn't know why, but his words sent waves of pleasure down your spine. Your brain was giving you all the wrong signals. Stupid party punch.

"My feelings?" You finally gathered your thoughts. "They're not that special, Connor."

"Maybe they're special to me", he tilted his head lower, closer to yours. Never missing a beat when it came to the dance. Perfectly keeping up the image for the rest of the crowd. And making your heart feel like it was beating outside of your body. Could you go to cardiac arrest from his gaze alone? You were sure you'd find out in about five seconds. "So perhaps you could talk about them."

"Is this an interrogation?" You managed a weak smile up at him.

"Most definitely", he reassured you, but there was playfulness in his tone along with all the seriousness. "And I'm the good cop, now."

"Yeah?" You decided to humour him. "And who's the bad cop?"

"Nines."

"Shit."

Your reaction made him laugh lightly. Stupid butterflies in your stomach! Will they ever just cease?! It's been months, they could give you a break! You could feel your own smile fade away a few seconds later. You could turn it into an interrogation, sure. Why not? There was nothing you could lose, apart from dignity. But maybe... if you could discuss it, you could put it behind yourself once and for all.

"Why do you care about my feelings when you have a girlfriend, Connor?"

His foot missed a beat as it was guiding you. Both of you stumbled a little, and despite the shocked expression on his face, you had to laugh a little. When both of you regained your balance, he fixed you with a frown.

"Girlfriend?"

"How rude of you, Connor-"

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"I'd bet she thought differently when you kissed her."

"...you mean Layla? Back in July?" Seeing your expression, you knew he knew he hit the nail on the head. "It didn't work out between us", he admitted softly. "It took me a few hours to realise that I'd rather be with someone else. That was the night when I came to terms with my own feelings."

No, you told yourself firmly. Don't get your hopes up.

"I know you've behaved strangely in my presence from the beginning", he continued, "but... when you walked in the office and I saw you-"

"Nooo", you whined, scrunching up your entire face.

Connor paused. But only for a few seconds.

"-I always thought that perhaps you were afraid of me."

"I wish I was!" You whined again. The song stopped and you pulled away from him, and he let you go. You hid your face in your hands. "I damn wish I was!"

"I'm glad you aren't", he whispered from very, very close. Too close. You didn't even dare to move, but he moved you anyway. His gentle fingers wrapped around your wrists and pulled your hands away from your face. "Please, look at me." You couldn't possibly ignore his soft request. "I'm sorry it took me so long. I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to tell you... but I wouldn't be able to last one more day without telling you. You have to know."

"Connor-"

"I'm not familiar with these emotions, but... I can't stop thinking about you. I want to make sure you're safe and happy. I wish I could be there with you every night when you fall asleep and every morning when you wake up. I want to be there for you, whenever you need me, and-" His brows twitched. "Why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?"

You couldn't help, you had to giggle at his question. You shook your head.

"No... no, you've said nothing wrong."

"Then why are you c-"

You pushed yourself up on your tiptoes – you were quite a bit smaller than him – and angled your head to kiss him on the lips. He felt soft and gentle, just like you imagined. It was a little, chaste kiss, and when you pulled away and looked up at him, his eyes were still closed, and his LED was spinning in golden circles.

"Do you need a reboot?" You teased him lightly, and he smiled, looking down at you.

"I was saving that in my long-term memory", he admitted.

"How much can you save to your long-term memory?"

"It's basically infinite", he leaned closer to you, resting his forehead against yours.

"Good", you smiled, your lips just an inch away from his. "You'll be saving a lot, then."

"Good", he confirmed, happiness lilting his timbre as he kissed you again.

~*~

Gavin grimaced as he was watching the two lovebirds at the edge of the dance floor. Hank snorted at his expression.

"I thought the punch would get me laid, not the tin cans!" Reed scoffed.

"Look on the bright side", Hank smirked at the Detective. "You helped them to finally get together. Most sophisticated androids my ass; took them months to realise, and it's your booze that cracked the ice for them."

"Phck-", Gavin scoffed, making the Lieutenant laugh.

[staticl0ve]

The Pig and the Fox - Ch. 6 - Connor/AFAB!Reader

Pairings: Connor/AFAB!Reader (no pronouns used) Rating: Mature/Explicit/NSFW 18+ Link (AO3): Read it Here Chapters: [ Ch. 1 ] [ Ch. 2 ] [ Ch. 3 * ] [ Ch. 4 ] [ Ch. 5 * ] [ Chap 6 ] / 6 Words: 7.4k Warnings: mild violence, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected PnV sex, implied drug use (supporting character), so much swearing, reader does wear feminine attire Summary: When a thief meets a cop, they’re on the opposite sides of the law, two flips of a coin. However, there’s more to life than things being black and white. In a post android revolution, not much has changed for the common citizen. The rich get richer and the poor, well, they work. They adapt. They sacrifice. You straddled that fine line, one toe in the light and one in the dark. So does Connor, but you don’t quite see that yet.

Chapter Six - Change *

People talked about change with suspicion and fear. Optimism was becoming rarer as the world began to unravel. For better or worse, change was inevitable.

In the 1990s, a Dot-com bubble burst and suddenly, technology wasn’t the profitable and bright future advertisers promised it would be. Highways normally packed had cleared out, houses were selling left and right as workers began fleeing the collapsing market. As expected, this was the nature of booms to come and go. Like with the dawn of the industrial era, the invention of trains, there would always be something new and better. Once again, a match was lit and then came the birth of the computer phone and the peak of social media.

Change was never in short supply. The climate was warming extremely in places, cooling too much in others. A younger generation listened to their seniors bemoaning about how evening skies used to be filled with insects or dreamy recollections of windshields that had to be hosed off after road trips. The signs were all there. In Florida, a condominium collapsed into a beach and on the fog covered coast of California, a woman woke to half of her bedroom fallen into the Pacific Ocean. There it was again, that funny little feeling. Bees were dying off, tornadoes tearing across cities, and whole species vanishing. Things were never going to be the same and after the android revolution, the question many asked was: what’s next?

Perhaps, some thought, the machines would save us all. Dust bowl fields began bouncing back thanks to the tender love and care of robot bees. It was the beginning of the scales tipping back and away from a perilous edge.

As for Connor, he wanted to believe he remained the man who caught Hank’s arm and pulled him up from the ledge of a building. Not quite a hero, but a good person. Good in that he was forgiving, willing to offer coffee to a man like Gavin Reed, who’d rather punch his “pretty plastic face in,” as the man had once said. The android was kind and considerate, always mindful of his impact on others. He tipped his dry cleaners, helped the elderly cross the road and gave endless amounts of scritches to a very needy Saint Bernard.

Connor was a good man.

… Although.

He preferred not to dwell on what was or that there was ever a part of him which was beyond his control. He feared he was still the hunter whose lightning reflexes added a bullet square in the head of a deviant whose only wish was to survive. A deviant whose back was turned as he ran from Connor’s aggressive line of questioning.

You’re going to be switched off. We’re going to search your memory and tear you apart piece by piece for analysis.

You’re going to be destroyed. Do you hear me?

Destroyed.

It wasn’t him. He had no agency then. But if that wasn’t him and if he had left his deviant hunting in the past, then why was it so easy slipping back into old ways?

Deviancy did not cure him of an old itch that gnawed at his processes. They built the RK800 to hunt and deep down, Connor knew that was why he enjoyed the work he did. Every chase that led him through narrow alleys and climbing over rickety structures helped satisfy the dormant parts of his code. It wasn’t quite the same as the mindless joy once obtained from a certain Zen garden.

But tonight, he was dangerously close to flirting with a temptation he thought he left behind. Fragments of preconstructions innocently offered him much deadlier, quicker options as he parsed through security footage, counting the number of guards. His wires buzzed, coursing full of electricity and heat. Amber light colored his cheeks and Connor resisted.

Fifteen minutes.

He gave you exactly the full duration before he made his move. A man stepped out of a side door, bright light reflecting off of watery pools by the entrance, disappearing as the door slammed. The newcomers’ nose dipped into the white glow of his phone, accompanied by a puff of haze from a vape. It took seconds for Connor to slide from the shadows and render him unconscious. Cuffs clicked together as he twisted the man’s arms around his back.

No excessive use of force. That was what Connor promised himself as the edges of a gold badge dug into his hip. He was here to uphold the law and deescalate.

The side door opened quietly into the front entrance and the main guard, expecting his friend, reacted to Connor’s appearance with a noise of surprise.

“Mother fucker!” the guard cried out.

Concerned the commotion would alert others, Connor dove towards the large man. They wrestled, knocking into racks full of day old bread, rubber wheels squealing as they slid around the polished cement floor, stopping once they hit a display case. Connor kept a palm over the guard’s face, his lean torso draped around the back of the man, muffling their fight. The guard spun the android around, slammed him into the front door but Connor did not relent, fitting the man’s neck into the groove of his forearm and biceps. He clamped down, squeezing the air out of the guard until he finally went slack on the floor. Alarmed he had gone too far, a sigh of relief left Connor as his fingers found a pulse.

A close call. He would not allow himself to be so careless again. As he made his way past display cases and further into the building, his audio sensors worked overtime to pick up stray sounds. A hush fell. The store room nearby had cleared out, footsteps fading towards a much louder confrontation further in the warehouse. Sluggish foot falls, like someone was dragging their feet, had Connor back on alert. A shadow stretched in from the open doorway, slowly growing in size.

“Leo,” he breathed out as the brunette hobbled into view. “Leo Manfred.”

“Who—” Leo began, making motions to step back from where he came from. “Who are you?”

“My name is Connor. I’m with the DPD,” Connor explained, one palm flat and raised while the other held out a gold badge.

Leo gave him a look of disbelief, wincing as his bruised eyebrow rose.

“No way.”

“I’m here with Fox. I know about the wire deal with Gavin.”

“Yeah? Well, he fucked up the pickup and got me in this mess.”

Connor hummed, smiling back at the other man. In better circumstances, with more time, he’d have made a joke about Gavin’s incompetence but erred on being straightforward.

“You have my reassurance that you are in good hands. My partner, Lieutenant Anderson, is just outside.” He spoke slowly and clearly, head nodding along with Leo’s. A silent “okay.”

Connor escorted him out the front door, inviting a blast of cool air and windswept rain into the warehouse. A car rolled in across the street, its headlights off and that was the cue Connor needed to loop the outside camera footage.

Leo gave him a worried glance as he stepped halfway out into the rain. “You gotta get Fox outta here.”

“I will,” the android promised.

As soon as Hank opened his car for Leo, Connor ran.

The kitchens weren’t nearly as empty as the storage rooms. A worker was in the middle of filling boxes with bags labeled flour. Connor acted quickly, reaching out to tug the worker away from their duties. But they didn’t wish to go down without a fight as they maneuvered a switchblade open and tried to slash at his face, his chest. One more stab attempt and their wrist crumbled like foil in his grasp. Now, with his forearm bent around their neck, Connor had to squash the urge to use the full brunt of his android strength on fragile bones. Spines were funny things, surrounded by intricate layers of nerves, supporting and balancing a body’s weight and they were so, so incredibly easy to break.

Too caught up in his moral dilemma, he nearly missed your voice calling to him.

A terrified and desperate cry that rang between his ears.

“Connor!”

You said it through your connection, but he heard it as if he was there. The worker thrashed in his arms and he heard your muffled cry of pain from rooms away. As soon as your vitals cascaded down his sight, planes of red crept from the edges of his eyes. Words like “deescalate” and “stick to the mission” flickered on by. On any other day, this sea of crimson would have been alarming, but Connor knew that if he glanced around, the wall was only a voice, a string of his own internal monologue and morals keeping his more… brutal tendencies at bay. Another scream, yours, followed by a dull thud and heavy rattling—the kind a body would make when meeting a hard surface.

The android was almost certain the neck in his arm was no longer whole, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance; the source of your voice. He didn’t even notice the body falling at his feet or recall stepping over it. Familiar, old processes clicked into place as brown eyes dimmed to a piercing black with thin, spinning red rings in place of irises. He felt himself fall into the background, turning off social modules to favor faster reflexes and better scan times.

Shoulders taut, spine straight, his long limbs carried him through the kitchens and into the smoky air of the warehouse. As his shoes made their first click on the floor, the room descended into darkness and he stalked forward, easily following his preconstructions. As a deviant, he had become tame and docile after the revolution, always seeking the pacifist route. And yet, with how he stepped into the darkness, ready to do whatever was necessary to guarantee your safety, he nearly felt the weight of a blue band around his arm.

It was easy finding his targets as they fumbled in the dark. There was a hammer, abandoned on a crate, its hefty handle barely registering on his sensors. It was easy lifting it and even easier moving his forearm until the blunt end met a guard’s face. A hideous shriek filled his sensors and hot liquid gushed, splattering across pale cheekbones. Connor was vaguely aware of what he may have looked like, a shadow, a blur of an LED closing in on a target and the dull, blank stare of a machine.

The humans, cybernetics or not, moved sluggishly to him. Their aim wasn’t terrible, but he could predict their movements and was long gone before their fingers pressed a trigger. Bullets tore apart crates, spraying bits of wood everywhere and causing panic to spread. There was a flash of white from a gun, blinding almost, followed by a gurgled cry mixed with wet, crunching sounds. Friendly fire. The initial quiet had broken into shouts from varying directions, when suddenly, a woman’s voice cut through the chaos in a stern tone.

“Move and I shoot,” Georgia threatened.

The RK800 fixed his gaze on the origin of the command, followed the gun from her hand to your head as you kneeled on the ground. A few of the brutes managed to tag team against Connor in the dark, their eyes gleaming red, irises spinning as their night vision processed his location. One fist met the core of his chassis, flooding his HUD with errors as a different set of arms attempted to wrangle him. In the commotion, a bullet managed to pierce his shoulder, but Connor was unfazed.

He was busy tracking the trigger attached to the pistol by your head. Georgia tightened her grip, her hand steady and eyes narrowed. She was an experienced drug lord and had seen her share of bloodshed. This was a typical weeknight for her.

“You’ve made quite the mess of my operation,” she scolded Connor like he was a schoolboy. “If you want this vermin to live, bring your hands up. Now.”

He sent you a preconstruction of his schemes, and you hardly had time to piece together what he was trying to show you. The clock was ticking. Dire circumstances had a strange way of making people honest. How’d that saying go? Something about only doing something if someone put a gun to your head?

“I trust you,” you shared, watching his LED spin at your reply.

Then all hell broke loose. Starting with the person at his front. Connor knocked his face into him, crunching soft cartilage as blood gushed down from the man’s broken nose. Reaching for his pistol, the RK800 only needed a twist of his wrist to empty a few rounds into the man. He spared no other thought for the person behind him, their arms now wrapped around his neck, pulling and twisting. Connor brought his gun to his lower abdomen, shooting straight through a lesser bio-component.

He had seconds left.

His arm whipped back around, barrel lined up to his assailant’s face, and with a last bang, he brought the lights back up.

At the sight of a manic machine, gray blazer and white dress shirt soaked purple in some spots and distinctly red and blue in others, the rest of the less brave suppliers made a run for the kitchens. All but Georgia, whose face was caught in a scowl, arm still raised, keeping you in her crosshairs.

“Back up. Slowly,” she demanded, tone even and controlled.

The situation was near laughable to the machine. A gun of his own was already in his hands, and he knew with absolute certainty that he could kill her before her next breath. Some twisted lines of code whispered to him, offering him a much more satisfactory ending, one which allowed him to draw out her misery and dole out a twisted idea of justice. His resolve was gone, and nothing was left to keep the real monster at bay as his LED blinked obediently.

A flash and another loud bang nearby had you flinching. Blood hit your cheeks and Georgia immediately fell to one knee as a bullet shot straight through the bone. She screamed, crumpling, the gun slipping out of her hands and clattering far out of reach.

Connor stalked towards her, rain and blood streaked dress shoes leaving crimson footprints in his wake. His hair was messy, wet and dripping, eyes wild, but his movements were precise. Soles clicked on the cement, falling into a slow, steady rhythm like he was treating each step as a note to a finale.

Your folded over body straightened and you let out a pained moan, wincing as you tried to stand back up. The drug lord was on her knees, half pleading, half sobbing while clutching her wounds. Her long, drawn out pleads made your skin crawl.

“Now wait just one minute.” She gestured, a bloodied finger pointing at a bag on the table. “I… I can m-make you a rich man. Take the bag, take your friend and go.”

Nothing stayed the same. Not you. Not Connor.

“N-no—” she cried out, voice fading.

Android hands wrapped around her throat, pulling her slightly off the ground. Connor’s eyes had glazed over and something stirred from within your chest. Look, one less drug operation was perfectly alright in your eyes, but seeing his hardened stare, the detachment he had as his head dipped to observe her last gasps—this wasn’t like Connor.

And what did you really know about the former deviant hunter?

Who were you to stop him from doing what you would have done? You arrived ready to slit throats to ensure Leo’s safe departure, while Connor was prepared for a dramatic arrest with no casualties. But you had seen into his dreams, seen his fear of frost, of an unfeeling machine taking over. Because beneath the honeyed smiles and his softness, he knew that regardless of all the good he did; the machine had never left.

In a place devoid of physics, deep in the mind’s eye, a coin flipped and landed on its side.

You hadn’t always done good things, but you weren’t a bad person. Hell, Georgia was the last thing on your mind as your mouth opened. This was for the stupid, sweet faced RK800 who chased you with a wild grin and rain drenched hair.

“Really?” you mused, laughing despite the dire circumstances. The airy sound was enough to draw Connor’s attention, although his grip did not loosen. “Turning off all the lights… where’d you steal that idea from?”

Blackened eyes blinked back at you, watched you move in between him and Georgia. At your sudden closeness, his indicator switched from a steady blue to an alarming red. Ignoring her sputtering, your fingers pushed and tugged to slot between his, attempting to make some space between the woman’s neck and your hand. You spoke to him once again, but this time, through an interface.

Old warehouse surroundings tiled away, flipping into the confines of a taxicab. There was the scent of car freshener, crisp and clean, and he caught the faint scent of your perfume. Tires rumbled over asphalt, occasionally finding a bump on the road. Gentle tunes had soothed you into a deep sleep, your head swaying to and fro. Connor was watching the city drift by when a warm weight sunk onto his chest. You were leaning over from your seat, cheek pressed against his shirt and arm slung over his lap as if you were seeking his hand. At the slight rise and fall of the vehicle, you readjusted, fingers meeting their target as your hand loosely intertwined with his.

He thought to move you, knowing he’d suffer the possible consequences of your wrath should you wake to such a compromising position. But when he tried to rearrange himself, you latched on tighter, burrowing and nuzzling against his chassis. So he let it go, watched the city cast its reflections on your peacefully slumbering face.

What you didn’t know, or may have realized when you were too busy wrinkling your nose at him, was that Connor did not share your disdain. Admittedly, he was curious about your end goals, why you did what you did when you could have enjoyed a simpler life.

The car slowed, stopping at a red light. That was when he saw it. Outside the taxi, night had shifted into day and he knew he was no longer in his memory of the taxi ride. Tall trees lined the walkways of a local cemetery, their leaves rustling with the breeze. Spaced out evenly across fields of green were shiny slabs of stone. Through the slats of a low black gate, he saw a crowd of people standing around a fresh mound of dirt with their heads dipped mournfully low. One person looked up, head turning towards the street and he recognized your face in the crowd.

“My best friend’s funeral,” you spoke from beside him, weight shifting in the car, almost startling him. “Red ice came for many of the people I knew, but… I wasn’t ready for it to feel so… personal.”

You had changed, no longer the same person napping in a taxicab. This version of you was different, a little younger, cheeks fuller, with reddened eyes and tears staining your cheeks, draped in all black, with flowers on your lap.

He couldn’t speak, lips parting, social modules turning up blank. Instead, he furrowed his brows and squeezed your fingers in his. Your lips parted, inhaling once before speaking.

“When the job markets tanked, it hit everyone differently. If you couldn’t code or work on biotech, you got left behind and… I was so wrapped up in not drowning, too focused on surviving… I failed to notice the suffering closest to me. I know stealing and moving money into nonprofits isn’t the right way to solve anyone’s problems. But I think—no, I know my best friend would be proud,” you continued, pulling out a small paper fox cutout from the bouquet. A smile broke across your face, cheeks warming at a memory he couldn’t see. “Our parents used to say we were as problematic as a pair of foxes, always finding trouble and getting into more just to bail the other out.”

You let out a short laugh, one that sounded more like an exhale and a sigh.

“I got really frustrated when protests and signs weren’t enough to fix things. I saw an opportunity to make things even and I don’t care that it makes me a thief.” Your fingers traced gently on the outlines of the petals in your lap. “Do what feels right to you. Bring Georgia in, have her rot in prison or don’t. She’s not special. There will be more to replace her, but your choice will change you.”

Connor weighed his options, saw a fuller picture of inky black mixing with white. He was coming back into himself, along with the feel of Georgia’s weakening pulse and his rage fading with it. The blaring red on his LED finally flickered once, twice, settling back into a cool blue.

The scenery around the vehicle slipped away, people and long stretches of grass emptying back into a drab warehouse with bodies littered around him. He saw you first, face half covered by a broken mask, lips bleeding, mouth open from panting and felt your hand next, pulling him away from the woman’s neck. His fingers buzzed with electricity, plastic white and glowing, intertwined with yours which glowed right back.

“What’s next?” you asked.

“We bring her in,” he answered, brown eyes melting into yours, warm and sweet again.

The wrap up of tonight’s ordeal took ages. They brought in ambulances and called Captain Fowler, which resulted in him howling about the paperwork. He relented once he heard about having Georgia in cuffs. Hank, after delivering Leo into the hands of capable medical staff, came back to check on Connor and his eyes widened as he strolled past body bags.

“Jesus. You okay, kid?”

Hank looked older, tired, and maybe that was just due to the weather, but Connor knew he was watching him carefully, studying the light show on his temple. Hank’s blue eyes appraised Connor’s injuries which had been roughly tended to by a tech medic. Patches of matte plastic filled the gaps where bullet holes were, taking their sweet time to conform to the rest of his android skin and the thirium on his clothes had faded, leaving the android covered in dark, crusted red stains. His jacket was garbage and tossed into an evidence bag.

It wasn’t possible for machines to appear tired, not in the same way that humans did with dark rings around their eyes or sunken features. Connor’s shoulders slumped, his head dipped and hanging forward like he was going to fall face flat. One could conclude he had seen some shit and was very over this evening.

Their eyes met for a second and a softness in Connor’s brown eyes put the older gentleman at ease.

“I am. Thank you Hank.”

He didn’t believe the android, but quirked a smile back at him. His head craned, pointing in the direction of his car.

“You need a ride home?”

Connor shook his head, eyes following you as you walked past open loading gates and towards a motorbike. He bid Hank a good night and jogged to catch up to you.

It was like you were already expecting him, hand held out to offer the front seat of the bike. He could tell from the way you were looking at him that you weren’t certain this was a good idea. There was an invisible line drawn between you. Not quite enemies, not quite lovers standing inches from each other.

As the corner of his lips tugged, so did yours. After everything that happened, maybe it didn’t matter what you two were anymore.

“Are you certain you’d trust a pig on a motorbike?” he challenged.

Do you want me?

Your cheeks swelled from an even toothier grin and he wanted to nip the soft flesh.

“That’s not just any motorbike, it’s my motorbike.”

Yes.

—

The ride was tense, in all the sweetest, heated ways. There was a stickiness to death, to darkness and worry that was best soothed by wandering hands and sharp pinches of teeth on soft skin. The rain turned Connor’s shirt translucent, his freckles and moles easily peeking through sheer material.

Wind chill bit at your hands and you dug your chin closer to him, pressed your body more snuggly to his and felt him chuckle in reply. Connor was, without a doubt, handsome even from the back. For every engine rev, lane change and turn, his shoulder blades flexed, toned muscles dancing beneath wet cotton. He didn’t help matters as he glanced back once with a reassuring smile, brown eyes darkening when he caught you staring. A pink tongue wetted his lips and his smile grew.

Your revenge came in the form of light touches. You raked your nails down his chest, face pressed to his back as he guided the bike through slippery roads. Your fingers traveled lower, tracing the shape of strong muscles down to the cool button at the front of his slacks. Fanning your fingers, you made a claw and dug at the loose material, the pads of your fingers grazing over a hardening shape beneath. He sucked in a breath he didn’t need, stomach rising and pulling at the drenched shirt. His hand gripped your wrist and pushed you into him as he rolled his hips, pressing his bulge into your palm.

“Your place or my place?” you asked, breath fanning down the back of his neck.

“Mine.”

It sounded a little like a declaration, and not just an answer.

You were a bit curious about his home, wondered if it would appear the same as it had in your dreams, but you found that as he brought you through the door, there would be little time to observe. His nails dug into your hips, gripping and pulling. Your lips met in a frenzy, tongues lapping filthy stripes across teeth. You captured his tongue between your lips, suckling it demonstratively and it made him whine in your arms. Limbs clattered together, messily like you were both fighting over who could lead this dance. Fingers ran over shirt buttons, ripping apart zippers, dripping water everywhere.

His touch roamed from a hand on your face, down your chest where Connor circled a nipple with this thumb. You felt him stop at your waist, a heavy palm keeping you from slipping away. Your nose met his, your lips hovering in an almost kiss. It was one thing to feel Connor within the blurry confines of a dream and another to experience the intensity of his want, let alone your wants in person.

You claimed his lips again, tasting rain and autumn. The tension in the room was similar to the air before a storm. It looked like that outside; the skies darkened with swirling clouds and cracking with light. You chased after that spark, hands weaving together behind his neck, fingers splaying over brown locks. Every breath you took, he consumed, lips parted, eager and heavy on yours. Each flick of your tongue was a fight and Connor could sense a victory as the curl of his lips tugged at yours, teeth catching your lips as you gasped for air.

“Fuck,” you laughed out, nails scraping the back of his neck. “You’re a menace outside of dreamland.”

He let out a low, guttural noise and pressed his hips to yours.

“I could say the same for you,” he replied. You smirked, seeming far more interested in dragging this out but Connor was out of patience. Large hands pulled your wrists until your hands separated from his neck. He brought them behind you, making sure you noticed how easy it was to secure you with one of his hands. “You’re much easier to handle like this,” he said, enjoying how your face shifted from mischief to annoyance.

“Connor,” you warned, tone hardly concerned. Your knee bent, bare thigh grinding against a growing hardness.

You should have wanted to feel safe, warm and soothed after such harrowing events. You both deserved a night where Connor could rock into you slowly with his lips against your ear, telling you how perfect you felt. He would do it too. You could tell from the reassuring circles he was rubbing over your pinned wrists that he’d absolutely do just that if you asked.

But you didn’t want that.

“I think… I’ve made this too easy for you,” you whispered it, lips brushing over his bare chest. “Tell me what you really want.”

He moved then, one hand slipping up your arm, tracing your collarbone. With an index finger, he pushed your chin up and he lowered his face, brown eyes watching you with growing seriousness.

“I want you to run.”

“Mmm,” you mused. Your tongue flicked out to lick his kiss bitten lips. “And what will you do when you have me?”

His mouth traveled across your cheek, leaving a damp trail and stopping once he reached your ear. “Don’t get caught. You have five seconds.”

You were light on your feet, skin squeaking from dampness as you spun around to rush across smooth floors and over decorative rugs. He chuckled once again and began counting down. By the time you heard “three,” you were already through his labyrinth of hallways and past his office, fingertips leaving a wet trail along door frames and wall corners.

“One,” he concluded and made his first step forward.

You were clever with your disappearance, as it was becoming obvious you had tampered with the connection by hiding your vitals from him. It left the hallways eerily silent as your breaths didn’t register on his sensors. He passed a few rooms to follow hand shaped watery streaks on his walls and entered his bedroom.

But you were gone.

The curtains were drawn and much of the evening light pollution poured over pale walls, coloring the room in vibrant blues and purples. His eyes caught the obvious disturbance in his bed sheets, where white linen piled into a mound at the center of the bed. Connor called your name like he was coaxing an animal out of hiding, voice saccharine and melodic. With a rough tug, he pulled the sheets apart, revealing a stack of pillows.

“Now who’s chasing who?” you said, emerging from the darkness behind his open door.

Your hand met his back, pushing hard before he could react, and he braced himself to fall onto the mattress. But he was quick and devious. A hand wrapped around your wrist, bringing you down with him. Somehow, you started on top of him, knees straddling over his hips and somewhere in between he was faster and the last thing you saw was a devilish grin before you were flipped onto your back. You felt him tug your arms over your head and the weight of his palm keeping them in place.

He pressed down harder on your wrists and you bucked your hips up in response, making him hiss as your sex ground onto his cock. More pressure was applied to your wrists. “Keep these here.”

Connor’s weight on the bed shifted down your body as his hands skimmed over your chest. He rubbed your sore muscles, brows furrowing at the fading bruises on your skin. His touch fell lower, a kiss here and there over your abdomen, the tops of your thighs. You gasped as his lips began trailing heated kisses on your knee and inner thighs.

“You wanted to know the consequences of being caught,” he stated, palms pushing your legs further apart. The tip of his tongue flicked gently above your clit, the sensation gone as quickly as it came. Your back arched as you clenched around nothing.

“Tell me then,” you replied impatiently.

“I intend to fuck you with my mouth, my tongue…” He wrapped his lips around you then, sucking at your nerves. His fingers traced over your folds and he made sure you felt the graze of him almost, but not quite, pushing into you. You sighed, an annoyed huff from above him, thighs pushing into the sides of his head. It was your feeble attempt to guide him, and it only spurred him on. “And with my fingers… until you ask for me.”

You laughed but couldn’t form any real rebuttal as Connor pushed one long finger past your folds. He pumped it in slowly, curling it along sensitive nerves. His tongue flattened on your clit, lapping the swollen nub in quick succession. There was a part of you that wanted to pull apart your hands and tug his hair until he groaned, but moving meant suffering a mysterious consequence. Another finger slipped in, his android skin turning white and buzzing with a glow.

“Fuck!” you cried out.

You squirmed in his bed, hips twisting, body aching for his fingers to hit a spot he was intentionally missing. Your hands clawed at the sheets over your head. One glance down and you could see the bright gold of his indicator spinning as his tongue prodded between your folds, licking his fingers as they left you. You felt his moan, his lips vibrating, causing an involuntary buck of your hips.

Connor tsked, mouth pulling into a grin as his fingers began moving faster, this time hitting the spot you needed. His other palm flattened over your stomach, pushing your hips back into the bed.

“So needy,” he teased. “Am I making you feel good?”

You glared through lidded lashes.

“N-no,” you lied while biting your lips.

He kissed your clit and chuckled again, fingers still continuing their effort to bring you to pieces. “The situation appears differently… from my perspective.”

You wanted to curse at him, tell him his mouth should be used for anything else but talk. Realistically, there was only so much false anger you could muster when his tongue was back on you, swirling and coaxing a blinding sensation that scorched up your spine. Your fingers twitched, muscles growing sore from how hard you were gripping the sheets. Despite Connor demanding compliance, you weren’t one for following rules. You moved your hands, nails digging into his soft hair, pulling his face closer. You could feel his smirk, but he obliged, lapping at you with a renewed fervor.

He was hoping you’d do something like this. Connor was looking for any excuse to be a little mean, to pull you in, tear you apart, and put you all back together again. A string of curses slipped past your lips, the tension unexpectedly snapping faster than you imagined. You came as he wrapped his lips around your clit, tongue grinding relentlessly on the swollen bud. There was hardly time to come down from your high before he removed his face from between your thighs.

“That’s one,” he said, and it made you clench around his hand.

“W-what—”

His tongue rolled, and you writhed on the sheets, moaning softly. When you got a little needier, a little more desperate, voice pitched like you were in pain, he checked in and was pleased when you impatiently scoffed out “green.” The concept of time was lost to you, as he may have spent hours or only minutes between your legs. Connor was too enthusiastic with the way he counted “two”, then “three” as you twitched and squirmed above him. You weren’t lying back and just taking what he gave. Curses and threats left your lips, your hands tugged and clawed at his hair, his face. But he never slowed and decided on a twisted form of mercy where he kept you on the edge, ignoring how your nails scraped into his plastic chassis.

He took his mouth off of you, rising up to hover over you, knees straddling your hips while keeping his fingers pushed snuggly into you. His face was a mess, shiny with your slick, his eyes half closed and darker than the night sky.

“You owe me an answer,” Connor demanded.

“What answer?” Your voice came out almost as a whine, but you managed to stifle the sound with an angry groan. You were so painfully close and the snail pace of his fingers only heightened your frustrations. You lifted your hips, fucking yourself on him, but he stopped you with a harsh grip and slipped his fingers out of your reach.

He nosed along your neck, lips brushing at the hollow of your throat. “Don’t play games with me, Fox. I promised you’d answer it, eventually.”

His voice rang in your ears but his lips didn’t move. There was a replay of a forgotten question, one which beat around the bush over what this—you in his bed, inviting yourself over to his home—meant.

A simple: Who makes you feel this good?

You bit your lip. This game of tug of war over the smallest bit of control in the bedroom could go on forever unless you conceded. And you could, for now, at least.

“It’s you. It’s you, Connor. You make me feel good. Fuck, if you don’t move your hand, I swear to god—”

Pleased, he sucked a bruise on your neck, resuming his movements between your thighs, building you back on the edge. As you pulsed around him, he snarled low, circled an arm around your waist and flipped you onto your stomach. Connor didn’t leave you with much time to complain, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock.

Red filled the android’s vision again. It was thick, all-consuming, a crazed sort of want. He had to be inside of you and any more time spent not doing just that was going to spur another existential awakening in him. His tall frame clung to your back, thirium pump racing as his arms dragged you into an embrace, pulling your lower half up to meet his hips. He pressed into you, just enough for you to feel the pressure of him spreading you open. His voice was strained, busy muttering filth in your ear, grinning when you moaned wantonly.

He explored the planes of your skin, kneading at your chest, used his hands to build a pretty picture of you face down. His touch was borderline possessive, teeth gently clamping down on the back of your neck whenever you bucked away from him. One hand slipped between your open thighs, reacquainting itself with a bundle of nerves that had you screaming into the mattress. Connor moved then, pushing more of himself in. His hips rolled, cock dragging in teasing strokes, hand drawing tighter circles around your clit. Your breaths drew him in closer, skin pressed tightly together.

“You’ll be good for me?” he asked as he hit the part of you that made you whimper.

You laughed, because of course you did. Your teeth glinted in the dark as your head turned to side eye the android.

“Give me your worst,” you replied. He twitched within you, brown eyes following your lips as they curled around a sentence he’d been dying to hear. “Break me.”

“Fuck—”

Nothing about how he moved was sweet or tender. As your moans were lost, muffled into a creaking mattress, Connor kept his head low, his face tucked between your neck and shoulder to soak in every vibration from the sounds he tore out of your mouth. And you were vocal, screaming his name the way he liked it. It surprised him how much this differed from stasis. Beyond the obvious hot, wet, and tight grip you had on him, the android didn’t anticipate the rush of euphoria building in his chest.

You see, it was never a game of chase for him. Yes, he had enjoyed his time at the art gallery and the way you looked at him curiously, like he was an oddity to sort out. You had him. In so many ways, Connor felt as though you had him the moment you both met eyes that one dark and stormy night.

He couldn’t slow his pace down now, not when you had pushed your hips to meet his thrusts. Your name left his lips, a stuttering mess of vowels and consonants as he watched your eyes close shut. His lips dragged down your neck, leaving behind a string of nips and bites.

“Oh god. Keep, keep doing—” Your sentence got choked off by a gasp as a familiar heat began building up from your abdomen.

He shifted from behind you, angling for deeper, short thrusts. You had him where you needed him, caught between his fingers swirling around you in a hypnotizing rhythm and his too thick cock. He lowered himself onto one elbow, his fingers intertwining with yours as he brought you to one last, mind numbing peak. His hands found your hips, gripping soft flesh while he tried to find his own end.

It was a lot. Connor was a lot. Teeth grazed over your shoulder and you felt a faint sting bloom across your skin. He barely sounded human as his vocals turned to static but he calmed, dissolved into a moaning mess when you brought a hand to card through his hair. A rush of warmth filled you, his hips finally stilling and strong arms pulling you into an embrace.

For a while, only your shared pants filled the room. You let him lay a series of kisses on your neck and pull you into him as he flopped over to his side with his arms never letting go. As the minutes drifted by and your eyelids too, you didn’t even notice him leaving your side and returning with a damp cloth. You did, however, remember a warm body attached to yours as night stretched into day and the weight of an arm on your waist.

———

After days of rain, Detroit finally saw blue skies and enough sun to dry out park benches. You were reclining, enjoying the sunshine and appraising the man that decided to ask you for a short stroll through the park. Leo was doing better. His wounds were patched up and the resulting stay at a hospital was an unexpected sobering up experience for him. You almost didn’t recognize him in freshly laundered clothes and what appeared to be hair that was recently washed. Even the dark shadows around his eyes were fainter. He really seemed like a new man.

“So,” he mumbled quietly, eyes not meeting yours as he dug his heels into the dirt. “I uh… I finally called him.”

He meant his dad, and you knew that without context, especially after months of hearing him fend off Carl’s calls.

“He said I could come home… clean or not,” Leo continued, and picked at his nails. Something about admitting his wrongs and needing his family made him feel smaller and younger, cheeks red and warm, like a teenager caught doing something bad. But this time, he was coming home to open arms and the shock of having a home to come back to made him nervous, like any second now, he’d slip. “But I amclean. I told him I’m done with that shit.”

“No more midnight rendezvous?” you joked.

Leo stood up straighter, with a renewed spark in his eyes. The case against Georgia was closed thanks to his involvement, and he still felt a calling, a deep urge to do something else with his life.

“I dunno about that. Think that old school by the corner could use some fresh paint and new books.”

You raised a brow, grinning back at him. “Paper books, in this century?”

He rolled his eyes at you, snapped his fingers and pushed himself off the bench. His head turned, angling to point at a well-dressed android in the distance. Connor, sensing the conversation was ending, tilted his head in your direction and smiled.

“You dating a cop?” he asked wryly.

And, you were done catching up.

“We’re not talking about that,” you dismissed and began walking towards Connor.

“How about over drinks?” Leo shouted after you, chuckling to himself.

When you reached Connor, the android gave you a broad smile, LED spinning as he processed what he could of Leo’s words from his distance. “Are we dating?”

Your eyes went wide, and you snaked an arm around his, pulling and dragging him back onto a park trail. You didn’t catch it, the airy, bright and hopeful look on his face as your hand wandered to grip his.

Change was a funny thing. It had a way of happening whether one could do anything about it. And you wondered a little, as you walked side by side with Connor, who changed who first.

—

One evening, a pig met a fox. It was the most unusual circumstance for the two to have met. And as the pig was a curious and intelligent animal, it approached the fox, but the critter, clever and wary, ran. For how could a beast with such short legs possibly keep up with the fox? But oh, the pig was just as swift.

To the fox’s surprise, what began as a chase ended in a stroll, as the two had more in common than either imagined.

[mrspasser]

5. Replacement

The detective is never late for work, so it's only natural that Nines worries about his partner being anything less than punctual. When Gavin eventually arrives at work, he is clearly distraught. When Nines finds out why, he makes it his mission to fix things. Only... his good intentions are not appreciated at first.

Cover made with fanart by @donlemefo​

It is 8.32 AM. The detective is two minutes late. He is never late. Depending on traffic and the stress of their week Gavin Reed always enters the precinct between 8.15 and 8.30 AM. Except when they have the night shift, a rotating schedule that has the detectives and other higher ranking officers work nights on thursdays to sundays. Crime never sleeps, especially not on the nights that most of the bars in Detroit are open until early morning. When they work a night shift, the detective arrives during the fifteen minutes before 8 PM.

He might be hungover, sleep-deprived or unshaven, the detective’s punctuality never falters.

Three minutes late. Nines checks their work calendar; there is nothing scheduled that would keep the detective out of the office. He has a dentist appointment next week, the android put it in when he heard him talk to the assistant on the phone. He also set an alert to inform detective  Reed of the appointment an hour beforehand.

Four minutes late. There are no traffic warnings for the roads between the detective’s home and the precinct.

Five minutes late. Nines decides to send a message to the detective’s phone.

> You are running late, detective. I hope there isn’t anything wrong.

He deletes the last sentence before he sends out the leftover five word text.

The message is read three minutes later. There is no reply. Nines ponders on whether he should worry or not. There is a multitude of reasons that could make the detective run late, from simply having overslept to being kidnapped by Red Ice dealers. The list in his brain is long, one reason even more improbable than the other. The fact that the message was read means detective Reed is alive, unless someone took his phone from him. That seems highly unlikely; like a true child of his time the detective is glued to his phone.

Connor walks past his desk with a cup of coffee for the lieutenant in his hand. “Good morning, Nines,” he says pleasantly. “Something on your mind?”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not worth sharing.” Even in casual conversation the negotiator in Connor pops up.

The RK900 schools his face in an even more neutral expression. There are not many people who pick up on the only minimal expressions his facial features are capable of, though it is easier for androids than humans. It’s something the detective keeps surprising him with; he seems to have a high alertness to his android partner’s mimic.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“The detective is running late.”

“I see.” Connor is silent for a second, no doubt running his own checks on traffic and other events that would have an effect on the detective’s arrival. “Maybe he overslept?”

“He read the message I sent him.”

“A personal appointment perhaps?”

Nines nods. “That must be it.”

“He’ll show up. The detective is harder to get rid of than a mustard stain on your favourite shirt.”

Detective Reed enters the bullpen at 11.07 AM. Nines’ sensors are immediately on alert. Hunched shoulders, a drag in his step, dark rings under his slightly red eyes… The detective must have hardly slept last night. His brows are furrowed like he has a headache. The android’s systems alert him of the possibility of a hangover. Maybe the detective drank too much last night and that’s why he is late.

“White vinegar should help to remove the stain,” Nines replies, before realizing it was only an empty expression. The RK800 is significantly better at emulating human behavior and speech than he is. Connor ignores his silly answer and smiles before walking away to present the lieutenant with his coffee.

His predecessor is probably right. The detective has personal business to attend to and will arrive at the office when he is done.

His partner doesn’t react to his initial ‘good morning’ and Nines decides that 11.09 is a perfectly adequate time for morning coffee. He goes to the break room to get a cup of coffee - black, one sugar and a drop of milk - and places that on the desk beside the detective’s keyboard. “Good morning, detective. Did you have a rough night?”

Nines leaves the detective be, keeping an eye on him from his own desk. Detective Reed works on the report of their most recently closed case and it takes him 2.8 times longer than usual. He’s also sighed a total number of twelve times in the past hour. When the detective pushes his chair away from his desk and grabs a pack of cigarettes from his desk drawer, Nines decides to follow him outside.

The detective grunts a reply, sounding like a combination of ‘thank you’ and ‘fuck off’.

Nines backs off, returning to his desk and wondering why he didn’t pick up on any signs of alcohol in the human’s system. Perhaps his body had already worked it out, although that didn’t explain the bloodshot eyes and heightened stress level.

“I want to inform after your well-being, detective,” Nines answers. “I suspect something is wrong and perhaps talking about it will help deflate your stress levels.”

Detective Reed leans with his back against the wall next to the back entrance of the office. He struggles to light his cigarette and sighs deeply after the first draft.

“What do you want, tin can?” he asks tiredly, acknowledging his partner for the first time since his arrival.

“You scanning me again?” The sting in his words is less effective because of the tiredness the human displays.

“I don’t need to scan you in order to see you don’t feel well. Did something happen, detective?”

Detective Reed takes an angry draft of his cigarette. The smoke curls up on both sides of his nose. Nines would like to remind him of the dangers to his health, yet now is not the time.

“My cat died,” the detective suddenly says. “That fucking happened.”

“Nancy.” The detective squashes his cigarette against the wall and flicks it away towards the gutter. “She had a stroke last night. Vet tried, but she was too far gone. Had to put her down.”

The detective’s cats. Two American Shorthairs from the same nest. One male, one female. Both white with patches of grey and black stripes. Nines has seen them a couple of times when he picked the detective up at home.

“Sid or Nancy?”

Before Nines can offer some consoling words his partner trudges back inside, purposefully ignoring him.

Detective Reed stays quiet for the rest of the afternoon. He works on his reports and stares at his terminal, avoiding eye contact with the people around him. Officer Chen comes by, also picking up on her friend’s bad mood. They exchange some quiet words, ending in officer Chen giving him a one sided hug. Nines yearns to give his partner some consolation too, yet he doesn’t know how.

<RK900> Connor? Why do humans have pets?

<Connor> Companionship. They enjoy taking care of them. Cuddling.

<Connor> Why do you ask?

<Nines> The detective had to euthanize one of his cats this morning. It has him feeling very down.

<Connor> I can imagine. I would miss Sumo very much if he came to die.

Nines reflects on that. He preconstructs visiting the lieutenant’s home without the large Saint Bernard welcoming him by slobbering his pants. It leaves him with clean slacks and a strange, hollow feeling around his Thirium pump.

<RK900> I think I know what you mean.

His partner lost his cat. He no longer has the pet who offered him companionship. An unrequested preconstruction of detective Reed snuggling up on his couch with two cats on his lap pops up. Nines processes it thoroughly before dismissing the preconstruction. The detective once explained him he had two cats so they wouldn’t get lonely if he worked long hours. That leaves Nines with the notion that not only the detective misses his cat, but the remaining cat would miss its sibling too. He would very much like to fix that for both of them.

The kittens are white, one completely and the other two with a couple of black spots.

The solution presents itself at an unexpected place. Nines is at the hospital’s morgue to take some DNA-samples of a stabbing victim, when he notices a cardboard box inside the little office. The assistant that showed him the body explains how they found some stray kittens in the back alley. She plans to take them to the pound after her shift; her boyfriend already dropped off their own pet carrier so she can transport them more easily.

“They seem to be in good health,” she says as they are both looking at the three kittens inside the box. “I don’t think they need their mama anymore, but they’re too young to wander around in an alley.”

“Cute, aren’t they? You can pet them if you want!”

Encouraged by the young woman’s words Nines lowers himself to a crouch and puts his hand inside the box. The white kitten comes sniffing at his hand, rubbing its chin against his fingers.

“Aww, she likes you!”

“She?” Nines carefully folds his hand around the small belly and lifts the young animal from the box to hold it to his chest.

“I checked. Two girls, one boy.”

The kitten’s nails hook in his jacket and he carefully pries them loose. A quick check on the internet tells him what to look for and the cat is indeed female and seems to be in good health at first sight. He estimates her to be about eight weeks old.

“Do you maybe know a good home for them?” The young woman scratches the cat under her chin with her finger. “I’d take them, but we already have three of those furballs at home.”

“I might…” Nines says, the idea not even half formed yet he already likes it.

He walks out of the hospital’s morgue with the pet carrier in his hand, having promised to return the thing tomorrow. The morgue assistant assured him the cardboard box would do fine to bring the other two kittens to the pound. She was very excited for him to take the white kitten and Nines finds himself to share that excitement. The detective should still be at the precinct when he gets back, there is still some time before he will clock out for the day.

Walking into the bullpen with a pet carrier gets him some odd looks, though nobody says anything. Detective Reed is sitting at his terminal, clicking from tab to tab to compare things with each other. He is peering intently at the screen; Nines’ earlier suggestion he might need glasses didn’t go down well.

“Is it a dead guy’s fingerprints?” Without looking up from his screen the human holds up his hand and makes a grabby motion. “Gimme.”

His partner doesn’t look up as Nines comes to stand on his left side. On the way to the precinct he preconstructed multiple ways to present the detective with his new pet and he found the direct approach the most appropriate. After all, detective Reed likes to be straight forward himself too.

“Detective, I have something for you.”

Of course. Nines has those too, it was his original purpose for visiting the hospital’s morgue. He extends his hand to his partner’s terminal, the artificial skin peeling back towards his wrist. White and grey chassis connects with the black terminal, transferring the requested data. He adjusts the screen settings while he’s at it, making it easier for the detective to read. It’s a subtle change, the human probably won’t notice it consciously.

As expected, the stabbing victim pops up in their system, red alerts pinging up on the terminal. Nines pulls them to the front before taking his hand back.

“Well, wha’do ya know! Our dead guy is connected to two unsolved cases!” The detective gestures at his screen, briefly looking up at the android. He clicks on the credentials, showing that one case was assigned to them, the other to lieutenant Anderson and Connor. Detective Reed scoffs, clicking a few buttons to request changing the assignment of the latter. “Ha! That’s our case now! I bet we can close both of them within the week.”

Nines nods. “I’ll inform our colleagues of their bereavement.”

His partner leans back in his chair, his arms behind his head. “The fuck, Nines? Did you just make a joke?”

The open smile that the detective sends him causes a temporary software instability. The android doesn’t hurry to patch up the small error, giving himself some time to revel in the sensation.

“Who knows, tin can. There might be a day that you become a real boy!” The smile turns into a smirk, one that is still a hundred times more friendly than the detective’s usual snarky grins.

Nines likes this part of their communication, savours it even. The light hearted banter, the insults without sting. The nickname ‘tin can’ used to be derogatory in the early stages of their partnership; over the months a certain fondness seeped into it. Even ‘terminator’ has its own appeal, as Nines has discovered the detective uses it mostly to refer to his ample strength and superior endurance. Nothing beat the use of the name ‘Nines’ however. Others have started to use it too, many of the humans finding ‘RK900’ to have too many syllables. The android even considers registering it as his official name; he already filled in the file, it is only waiting to be send. Connor asks him from time to time about choosing a name different from his model number and Nines has trouble coming up with a name for himself. Connor and the lieutenant try to help him by giving suggestions, ranging from spins on his model like Richard or Rick to names that sound similar to Connor, like Conan. Not one name stuck, until detective Reed came up with Nines.

A small mewl pulls Nines back from his internal musings and he notices how his partner is staring at the pet carrier in his left hand. His hands that were behind his head slowly fall back to his side, gripping the armrests of his chair. The detective leans forward, to better look around Nines.

The android turns the pet carrier towards the detective, lifting it a little so he can have a good look inside. “This is your new cat, detective.”

“My what!?” The astonished look on the detective’s face is one that Nines stores away in his personal folder. His partner is thoroughly surprised, something that is not easily accomplished with a seasoned police detective.

“The fuck did you do?!”

There’s a hint of anger in the detective’s voice, yet Nines chalks it up to being surprised. His partner doesn’t really like not being in the know. Also a trait of being a police detective.

“I thought having a new cat would cheer you up,” the android answers pleasantly. “And now you have two cats again, which means they’ll have each other when you’re at work.”

Nines stills, his processors scrambling to find an explanation for his partner’s anger. None of his pre-constructions accounted for this reaction.

Detective Reed pushes his chair back and stands up. He lacks a few inches to look Nines straight in the eyes, although that never holds him back in confronting the android.

“So you thought I would like to complete my set again? Like Nancy is a broken vase or something?!” An angry finger is pushed against the android’s chest.

The detective turns away from him, hastily shutting down the programs on his terminal. He mutters angrily under his breath. “Fucking plastic prick. Did Nancy’s death fuck up the order of things in your perfect plastic world? Trying to bring back the fucking balance?”

“I assure you, detective,” Nines hurries to say, “I was only -”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” The detective turns to him again, his face flushed with anger.

That is a question Nines can answer. “Humans have pets for the companionship they experience from them. Losing Nancy made you feel down. I merely wanted you to feel better.”

“And you thought getting me a new cat would be a good idea? On the same day I fucking put one down?” The detective is shouting now, though he quickly lowers his voice again when he notices how much attention they’re attracting. He hisses the next words. “Did you think I would order a new CyberLife android the moment you kicked the can? No, I wouldn’t! Stupid plastic!”

Detective Reed grabs his jacket from the back of his chair and stalks towards the exit. Nines turns to watch him go, too perplexed to know what to do. “Detective! Your pet!”

His partner flips him off over his shoulder. “You fucking keep it. Your cat, your problem!"

A gentle hand falls on his arm. From the corner of his eyes Nines sees the uniform of officer Chen. “I think we should have a chat, big guy.”

***

The door camera shows a familiar white and black jacket with a high collar. Gavin sighs and opens the door. “What are you doing here, tin can?”

“Well, good for you,” Gavin grumbles, his hand still on the door and ready to close it. “Was that all?”

“I came to apologize,” is the stilted answer. If possible, Nines’ posture is even straighter than usual. His hands are clasped behind his back and his gaze is strained, like he has trouble looking Gavin in the eyes. The damn terminator is nervous, his LED yellow.

“You are grieving the loss of your beloved pet and I understand now that you don’t wish to replace her.”

“I haven’t said sorry yet,” Nines says, clearly confused. His LED is pulsating yellow, meaning he is either very stressed or working through a large package of data. The fucker is really feeling bad.

“I thought that was implied. Whatever, tin can, it’s okay.” The yellow in Nines’ LED does another round or two and then it makes way for the stable blue. Good. Conversation finished. Gavin moves to close the door, dismissing his partner.

“Detective? Do you care about me?”

“You said you wouldn’t replace me if I ever died,” Nines answers, his voice sounding deceptively calm. “I believe you made a comparison between me and your cat. I know you care a lot about your pets.” The android leaves the rest implied: does that mean you care about me too ?

The unexpected question makes Gavin pull the door wide open again. He stares slack jawed at his partner, thinking for a second he must have heard him wrong. The android simply stands there, waiting for his answer. His hands are in front of him now and he’s fucking wringing them - or the understated equivalent of wringing your hands that the android prototype does. His LED is blue, but it’s whirling and it probably will go to yellow again soon.

Gavin opens his mouth a couple of times before he can get a full sentence out. “What the fuck makes you ask that?”

Well fuck . He did say that, didn’t he? And he should have known the android would value his words, like he always does. Especially when it comes to fucking feelings or emotions. He can be six foot something, he is still not even a year old. His terminator partner is nothing but a big child in some cases, insecure and basically just trying .

“I know. You stuck googly eyes to it.”

Gavin could of course make some insulting remark, he has several at the ready to chase the android away from his doorstep. He doesn’t. Nines is his partner. And however stupid his idea of giving Gavin a kitten was, he somewhat appreciates the gesture.

“Fuck, whatever. If things are around for long enough, you start to get attached to them,” Gavin admits roughly. The android practically preens at his answer, however subtle the emotion displays. Gavin tries to ignore the warm swirl in his chest that is triggered by his partner’s pleased reaction. “Don’t get any ideas, plastic! I’m also attached to my Roomba.”

They stare at each other for a moment, the android showing that small tilt upwards at the corners of his lips that means he is happy. And fuck if that not makes Gavin happy too, no matter how troubling that thought is.

The android tilts his head a little, looking slightly confused again. “You said I should keep it myself,” he says.

“Wait!” Gavin suddenly exclaims. “What exactly did you do with the cat?”

Gavin left Nines standing at the precinct with the kitten. He hasn’t been home for that long. Certainly not long enough for Nines to have brought the animal back to the shelter it came from.

Gavin rolls his eyes. Sometimes that million dollar processor can be really slow. “Yeah, yeah, I know what I said. But where is it?”

The android clasps his hands behind his back again, standing ramrod straight. “There are no pets allowed at the precinct.”

Nines glances at something a little down the corridor. Sure enough, there is the pet carrier on the floor. There’s a ball of white fur curled up in the back of the carrier.

“Jezus! You’ve been toting the damn animal all over town?”

Ah yes, Gavin should have thought about that. He always tries to forget about the fact that his partner stays at the office at night. That android storage room is too fucking depressing to be thinking about. And of course there is no room for a cat there; it’s not like it can use a stasis pod as a litter box.

“I thought I would take it to the lieutenant’s house,” Nines explains.

“Are you nuts?! Doesn’t he have that large dog? It will fucking eat the poor thing whole!”

“You’re not leaving me with many options, detective.” The android starts to sound a little peeved.

After making sure the door to the hall is closed and Sid is holed up in his bedroom, Gavin tells Nines to open the door of the pet carrier. “Let her out so she can explore the room.”

“For fuck’s sake, get inside.” Gavin steps away from the door to give his partner room. “And bring that fucking cat with you.”

He’s pretty sure he’s going to regret this, even though seeing Nines walk stiffly into his home with the pet carrier in his hand is vaguely endearing.

The snow white kitten carefully sniffs the edge of the crate before tentatively walking out. She is clearly aware that there is another cat living here and she cautiously steps away from the pet crate. Gavin watches her for a moment before he walks into his kitchen to reheat his forgotten dinner. It was a microwave dinner anyway, heating it up twice won’t make it any worse than it already was. While the microwave buzzes, he puts some food out for his new furry companion. He’ll have to go out and buy kitten food for her tomorrow, but for now the regular will do.

He sits down on the couch, his dinner in his lap. The tiny white cat is sniffing the floor length curtains of his living room window, pushing her little head underneath them. He makes a mental note to get the spray bottle out to prevent the kitten from climbing in his curtains. If you look closely you can still see the damage Nancy did to them when she was young.

Nines looks from him to the assigned spot and then tentatively sits down on the seat cushion. They watch the kitten in silence, as she disappears and appears behind the long curtains. Sometimes only her miniature tail is visible, a tiny paw coming to claw at it from underneath the floor length fabric.

To the side of his couch stands six foot plus of looming android. His eyes are fixed on the kitten, though Gavin knows he’s probably keeping check on him too. He undoubtedly has already scanned his meal for high levels of salt or something. Or would he have to taste it to analyse that? Gavin looks down at his plate, imagining the android dipping his finger in the food and sticking it in his mouth for analysing. Less gross than with blood, but still.

“Would you sit the fuck down?” he exclaims, pointing with his fork to the bit of empty couch to his right. “You’re making me lose my appetite with your looming.”

“What do you want to name her?” Gavin asks, scraping the last bits of his plate with his fork and putting them in his mouth.

“She’s your cat, detective. Shouldn’t you name her?”

“I said she’s yours, didn’t I?” He puts the plate on the coffee table and kicks his feet up next to it.

“I’m confused, detective,” the android says, folding his hands in his lap and turning slightly towards Gavin. “I thought letting her into your home implied that she could stay here.”

“She can, yes,” Gavin admits with a sigh. “Sid will probably not mind very much. Nancy always was the bitch of them two, Sid sleeps most of the day anyway. Lazy fucker.”

“Then how can she be my cat?”

“Because you’ll be paying to get her vaccinated and spayed and shit,” Gavin smirks. “I’ll just be her… I don’t know. Think of it as foster care or something.”

The android thinks for a moment before he answers. “That is a satisfactory arrangement.”

"Good - whoah!” Gavin jumps up from his seat to get the kitten out of his curtains. She had started to climb up a good way already. He puts her down on the floor in front of the couch. “Here, you keep an eye on this devil’s spawn while I go fill up the spray bottle.”

He rummages around in his kitchen cabinets until he finds the sprayer in the back of one of the bottom cabinets. He fills it up and places it on the coffee table, within reach for the moment the kitten does something else that will fuck up his home.

“You named your cats after Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen, two famous figures from the British punk scene in the previous century.” The android is apparently back to the previous question on how to name the cat.

“You’re an excellent detective,” Gavin mocks, making sure he wears the appropriate expression for Nines to pick up on his sarcasm. It wouldn’t be the first time the tin can took his words too literal; though he had come a long way when it came to understanding the gradations in human language.

“I am merely looking up references to see if there is a name that would fit the same category.” The android frowns lightly. “There are many to choose from, many dysfunctional relationships between famous rock stars and groupies, yet there is no name that particularly stands out to me.”

His partner turns silent, no doubt wracking his brain and searching the entire internet for a suitable name for the cat. His LED goes from blue to yellow, sometimes stuttering back to blue before going back to churning yellow. Gavin turns on the tv, letting the android be. The white kitten has clawed her way up the couch and is now sniffing at his hip. He lets her, knowing she has to get used to his smell and movements. It’s a pretty little thing, her fur completely white. He’ll have to take her to a vet to get her checked out and vaccinated, or maybe have Nines do that for him.

“It doesn’t have to be a name like that,” Gavin says, familiar with Nines’ hopeless indecisiveness when it comes to personal things. Hell, the time Gavin had urged him to wear something else for a change, he had turned up in a navy blue turtleneck, the same brand as the black ones he always wears.

“You can choose anything you like.”

After the LED next to him has been yellow for a solid fifteen minutes, Gavin sighs. “Stop thinking about a name before you fry your processors, tin can.”

Nines looks up at him, the frown slowly dissolving into a blank look. “I find myself unable to come up with a suitable name.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Gavin chuckles. “You still go by your model number. You’re not even able to pick a name for yourself.”

“Actually…” The yellow ring at his temple starts turning. “I was thinking of making Nines my official name.”

“Is that so?” Gavin keeps his eyes on the tv, thinking about his partner’s words. Nines is the name he gave the android. It started as a nickname, something to call him that didn’t sound like he was berating him. Gavin thought it was quite fitting, though he hadn’t expected the android to immediately take a liking to it back then.

“With your permission, of course.”

Gavin frowns, shifting his gaze to his partner. “Why would you need my permission for that? It’s your name, it’s your life.”

“You came up with it,” the android explains.

“Isn’t the whole purpose of having free will and stuff being able to do what you want?” He brushes a hand through his hair. Conversations like this aren’t exactly his forte. “If you like the fucking name, then make it official. I’ll keep calling you whatever I want anyway.”

“Thank you, detective.”

“Gavin.” He rolls his eyes at his partner’s initial incomprehension. “Call me Gavin, dipshit. You might as well…”

Nines does that thing he calls smiling again. It’s just the corners of his mouth lifting up and the skin around his eyes crinkling a little. He doesn’t do it very often, although the frequency seems to have gone up the longer Nines is with the DPD. Or with Gavin , his mind supplies unwarranted. Gavin bristles at his own thought, thinking it is perfectly normal to like one’s partner. They work well together, he’s smart and he’s a good detective. Also, Nines is nice to be around, even when it’s sometimes awkward because he has trouble with some parts of deviancy. Like, it’s the first time Nines has been in his home for this long, the first time they hang out outside of work, save some after work drinks with colleagues, and Gavin is perfectly comfortable with having the android on his couch. Even when he’s looking at Gavin like he hung the fucking moon from less than three feet away.

The kitten tumbles over to the android, who scoops her up and places her on his lap. She is hardly bigger than his hand, his fingers curling carefully to scratch her belly. Babies, kittens, the terminator’s hands were gentle with all of them. It didn’t take long for the perfect Kodak moment to appear: a little white ball of fur curled up against the palm of Nines’ hand, fast asleep.

Gavin puts on an old cop show and him and Nines take turns in digging at the show’s factuality and fake police procedures. He also lets Sid back in the living room again, the lazy fucker only sniffing at the still sleeping kitten before settling in in his usual spot on the armchair. Nancy would’ve knocked the white puffball off the android’s lap, Sid on the other hand barely even cares he has a new roommate.

After a few episodes of the cop show Gavin yawns, stretching his arms behind his head. “I’m gonna hit the sack.”

“Yes, I suppose it’s time for me to go,” Nines answers, shifting gently in an attempt to get up without waking up the small cat in his lap. The little furball has been awake for small bits, Nines taking her to the kitchen for some food and a drink. She did some exploring too, trying to get acquainted with Sid, only to run back to Nines after repeatedly being hissed at.

“What, and wake tiny up? No, tin can, you’re stuck being a cat bed I’m afraid.” Gavin chuckles, getting up from the couch. “You can stay here if you want, unless you need your stasis pod or something.”

“I don’t require a pod to go into stasis. I could go without stasis for the night too,” Nines answers flatly. His lips pull in a thin line. “Are you sure you want me to stay? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Gavin shrugs. “No problem. You can watch the kitten for me too, make sure she doesn’t get scared alone in the night or attacks my curtains again.”

Nines settles back into his original position on the couch. “I can do that.”

“Okay. Good night then.” Gavin had almost reached the hallway when he turns back. “Hey, Nines?”

His partner turns his head to him. “Yes, Gavin?”

“You uh.. you need anything?” He scratches the back of his neck. “Like a blanket or something?”

“I’m good, thank you.” Another one of those smiles.

“Okay. Right. Well. Good night.” It feels a bit weird to leave the android out in his living room for the night, without a blanket or a pillow. Yet he knows the stasis pods are bare too, the androids even stand up in those for hours at a time. Gavin’s old couch is probably more comfortable than those pods.

“Good night,” Nines says and his voice almost sounds warm. “Oh, and Gavin? I think Tiny is a good name for her.”

“Tiny? Yeah, that suits her, I guess. Then Tiny it is.” Gavin smiles, looking back at his impromptu houseguest one last time. “See ya tomorrow, partner.”

<< 5/10 >>

DBH Partners series masterpost

[thebeeshaveknees]

"Hank! I need you to lick this!" Connor called from where the RK800 was studying a randomly left out, perfectly clean and functional digital magazine.

Hank looked over at the Lieutenant, crouched at a small break in the fence, and squinted with a deep frown. "Why?"

"There's a residue, if it's thirium then it's almost certain the deviants are in this abandoned house." He explained, as if he had never in his life planned to abuse Hank's unfortunately placed forensics lab.

"Hm." Hank went over, kneeling and scanning the fence. The thirium was clearly visible, and the android said as much.

Connor nodded, before squinting at the hole in the fence and then Hank. "Can you fit through here?"

"There's a 32% chance I get stuck and a 94% chance I scratch or stab myself going through."

Connor nodded. "Well, that would slow us down more." He hummed before sighing deeply. "Well, get ready to chase." He said as he pulled out his service weapon.

"It's almost certain the deviants will know we're coming."

"Yes, well if they thought to close the door they would get a bit of warning anyway - plus, Collins' patrol car isn't exactly subtle." He fired the gun right against a fence link, and the thing snapped, now too hot to touch. He did this another two times before grabbing the corner and peeling the fence back. "Go ahead." Conner offered, and Hank… noted that, before ducking toward the house.

Connor followed, and ran ahead quickly, peeking through boarded up windows and knocking on the front door. Hank lagged, noting the single male-based android in the house through the cracks in the window.

Connor looked about ready to break down the door when Hank stepped in. "I think I would be better for that, detective. My bones are denser than yours."

Connor looked vaguely upset by this, but backed up and let Hank break down the door.

Inside there was a standard WR600 with deep scarring on the left of his face and a tarp in its shoulders. Connor's approach changed when he saw the deviant. "Oh, I'm sorry. Do you live here? I didn't know."

The android was twitching, staring at the floor. "No one knows. Ralph doesn't have visitors."

Connor's posture softened, his arms bent so his hands were just a little in front of him, his head tilted to the side just so. "Are you okay? Did anyone try to break into your house last night?"

"No! No, no, Ralph doesn't have visitors." He muttered, twitching violently.

Connor offered a tiny smile. "You have no visitors, okay. I'm sorry I questioned you."

"Sorry?" The deviant's eyes met Connor for the first time. "Sorry? You're sorry? You're a human."

"Yes I am, and yes I am. I don't want to worry you, I just want to help." His voice was soft, and Hank watched the deviant's stress levels fall 20% at once. "You don't have any visitors. Do you have any friends? Family here with you?"

"Family." Ralph muttered with the tiniest smile, looking at the floor again. "Family. Father, mother, little girl. Family." He muttered, but they both caught it.

Hank stepped in. "You've got a daughter?" He asks, and Ralph stiffens, but says nothing.

Hank tries to mimic Connor, slouching his overwhelming height. "I'm sure she's lovely. Does she take after her mother?"

Ralph looked to meet Hank's eyes. "Grandpa." He said faintly, mistified.

"Pardon, son?" He asked, toning up his American drawl just a bit.

Ralph clapped his hands. "Perfect! Wonderful! Oh, a whole family." His eyes shifted to Connor. "We are like the human families, yes? Wonderful, yes?"

Conner smiled. "It is wonderful, having a family of your own." He praised. "Just us, Kara and Alice."

"Yes!" The android's eyes darted to a heap of junk next to the stairs. "Oh, but Alice and Kara can't come out right now, they're hiding from the police, you see."

Hank hummed. "That's a shame, but it's alright." Ralph's stress levels were in the single-digits - a feat, for a deviant as unstable as he.

"I'm a little worried about Alice, though." Connor admitted, with a frown, and Ralph's stress went up 15%.

"Alice? What's wrong with Alice? She's a human, not very strong. You're a human, you know?" His stress was up to fifty by the time he finished speaking.

"Well, humans, we can't stay in the rain too long, we get sick." He explained. "Were her clothes wet when she came in?"

Ralph's brows furrowed. "Yes, soaked to the bone, the bone, she was. Vibrating."

Connor's face turned near-horrified. "Vibrating? Like shivering? Oh dear, oh poor Alice."

"Poor Alice? Why poor Alice?"

Connor's eyes caught the table behind Ralph, neatly set with chipped plates and with a charred possum in the middle - maybe what the deviant considered food, Hank noted. The Lieutenant looked back at the worried android. "Was she eating at all this morning?"

Ralph looked like he was about to cry. "No, no she wasn't. She's human but she didn't eat like humans do, I made a succulent meal. Succulent. She wouldn't eat it, not even a bite!"

Connor looked grave. "She was shivering, she wasn't eating - She must be very sick."

Ralph looked to Hank. "Grandpa, what do you do with sick little girls? Alice is sick - sick things die, is Alice going to die, Grandpa?"

Hank softened his features just right, and bent to eye-level with Ralph. "Don't worry, son. It'll be alright, but sick humans need to be taken care of. Connor is a great human, he'll know what to do if he sees her."

Ralph nodded frantically, traveling with his awkward limping gait to the stairs. "Kara!" He cried. "The little girl is sick, what do we do when the little girl is sick? Sick."

Kara poked her head out, met Hank's eyes and bolted, dragging Alice behind her. Hank and Connor were both running after them in a split second.

Kara and Alice made it through the fence quicker than Connor and Hank did, and started running down the street while the police gave chase.

Hank was not much faster than Connor - he was built to be strong, not fast. But then he saw the suspect help the child android hop a fence that led to an autonomous highway, and he broke into a full sprint at the cost of his charge between stasis'. He slammed into the fence, the chain links rattling as he made eye-contact with the deviant. She looked horrified.

Conner caught up, and watched them run toward the highway.

Hank and Connor were both climbing the fence and on the other side before the perp could lift the child android to the other side of the safety barrier. "Stop!" Connor barked as Hank grabbed the perp and Connor yanked Alice away from her.

"Alice!" The AX400 howled, writhing, trying to free her arms from her sides, but Hank wouldn't let up. Alice was similarly struggling, but Connor only held her little wrist as she tugged.

Hank didn't know if it was the best approach, but he chose aggression."What on earth were you thinking?! Putting a child at risk like that, she could have been killed, you understand?" Kara stopped flailing. "We just want to talk, we won't separate you if you cooperate but don't put Alice at risk like that again."

Hank and Conner both let go, and Alice clung to a very still Kara.

"We won't be separated? You promise?"

"We promise." Conner assured. "We have no intention of hurting either of you."

Kara sighed deeply through her nose, "Fine."

Conner was over the fence first, then Alice, then Kara, then Hank. Neither were handcuffed, neither needed to be. Hank ushered them to the patrol car, but then Kara froze. "Hey!" She called, and all turned to see what she was looking at.

Ralph was outside the house, tears streaming down his face with his hands in the air as three officers cornered him with guns ready.

"Wait!" Conner yelped, running toward them and sliding easily between the android and the guns, showing his back to the deviant. "We don't want them hurt, we don't want them dead. Put the guns down, he won't hurt anyone."

The three officers lowered their weapons, Ben looking the least confused. "Conner, You've gotta stop jumping in front of guns."

"Hah." He turned to Ralph. "We're going to grandpa's house; Alice, Kara and I. Would you like to come?"

Ralph nodded shortly, his eyes downcast and Connor didn't acknowledge the fingers pinching the seam of his jacket as he lead him to the cruiser.

[rk-stateoftheart]

Are there any plot tropes you are sick of/refuse to RP? If so, what are they and why?

List three honest flaws your favorite character has and talk about how those flaws make them problematic.

The shipping of extremely violent character / a character with a red-cross syndrome. I understand and I respect every writer and their own niches and desires to write things out, I also understand that there is a line between real life and roleplay, and I hardly ever take something that's written as a reflection of a person who brings the details into life, but this particular thing is just not for me. I also apologize for making this a little personal response, but here we go: Why? It is just not my taste. I have done it, and I have warned my partner that if I am about to write an abusive character, the development of feelings and the change of personality and world views will be a thing that won't happen in an instant. We tried, but essentially, it just takes a lot of time and effort to write as a character whose whole existence is made out of manipulation, deceit and abuse in every shape and form. Then there's this "red cross syndrome" character. Who is this "red cross syndrome person" you might ask? It is an individual who believes that with enough "love and the power of friendship, the horrible person can change for the better". Where these lead me to is basically a loop of: 1) for some reason one develops feelings, 2) angst, 3) a bit of kind words, 4) angst and drama, 5) rinse and repeat. Personally, I have seen or experienced very little character development in that trope, especially because something like that takes a LONG time to write and think out. Ig you'd see something like that in a fanfiction or a tv-show, but at this point I imagine having that sort of thing written out is easier done alone than as a community effort (read: two writers). Why? Communication. Now, some of you might think: but you ship Reed900/Reed800, isn't that essentially the same? Personally, from what I gather, RK900 or RK800, would retaliate in their own way to discrimination. Seeking fulfillment in "making someone better" is not the priority, nor do I often see one of them acting like a Mary Sue having hots for an abusive partner.

1. Richard is perfectionist. Example: he sets high expectations for himself and does the same for others. When given a task, he will do everything in his powers to complete it, and he will urge the others to do the same. If he does not, he can get restless and agitated, and then he can start brooding and snapping at others; it can affect the people around him as that does not really create a nice working environment. 2. He can be predatory. Not in the sexual predator type of way, but the:"i want you to trail this person and learn what you can about them" and then Richard will do just that. He will stalk the human/android, analyze their behaviour, study their background, their medical history, the living family members, learn of the places they have ever gone to and are frequenting, what they eat and what they can not eat (whether it is due to allergies or some other reasons), their schedules and so on. Such obsessive behaviour can make him problematic because without a flat out "stop, your work is done", he will continue doing so until it will merge with his own life. He has his own personality, but if he is observing someone to the point of knowing everything about them, there's a high chance that he will adopt their own quirks and traits of personality. 3. Despite what he says or how he acts, Richard actually has a deep pool of emotions (you can also read this as emotional resources). However, even if he can analyze them all (and he does so, especially when he sees other humans act in a familiar way he feels), there's still a chance that he will fail recognize his emotions until it is too late. That can result in an emotional meltdown or burnout. It can get significantly worse if he's surrounded by too many sounds/sensations and there is no way out. Richard can be deemed temporarily useless and not safe for work (increased agitation, anxiety, aggression, being non-responsive, shutting down, refusing to collaborate or speak up, etc.) in case of burnout or meltdown.

[replicantdeviancy]

slashaer asked: whatever happens, i'm right here beside you. - markus @ connor.

@slashaer || “I NEED YOU CLOSE AT ALL TIMES” PROMPTS || Accepting

Connor appreciated the sentiment more than Markus would ever know, more than he could properly convey. Deviancy hadn't been entirely easy for the RK800. While it had come to him so effortlessly, a simple choice presented after a series of events which had irrevocably changed him, he still found it difficult to adapt. The knowledge that he was indeed designed to deviate, that he had always been a thin, threadbare instance of software instability away from breaking through the fundamental coding which bound him, didn't help. He was still just as lost & confused as the night he had come to confront the deviant leader & crossed that threshold into the unknown. He still remembered the feelings which had threatened to overwhelm him in the moment, persisting until his rendezvous with his partner - even if he didn't have perfect recall, he would remember. Connor had been programmed with a certain level of anxiety, as it helped create a hypervigilant, quick thinking hunter. In theory, it was a logical direction to have gone, but in practice, with the barriers of that all encompassing numbness granted by his factory settings now gone, it was less beneficial.

He knew that Markus likely didn't understand, as he had been designed for a very different purpose, & he had the advantage of experience of age to guide him. Nevertheless, he was supportive, & that helped more than it realistically should have. The world still wasn't kind to androids, especially after the revolution, & then there was Connor's own purpose to consider.

He wasn't the one who had decided to hunt his own kind, to betray them merely by existing. It felt wrong to say the choice had been stolen from him; there had never been any choice to begin with. He existed to serve the interests of his makers. Connor wished that he could better convey that to his people, but few were even willing to listen to him. They feared him. To Jericho, Connor was an invaluable member of their group, having forgiven his transgressions & even went so far as crediting him with the success of the revolution. But to the rest, he was just the Deviant Hunter.

But in small moments such as these, in the company of rare friends & in a quiet space, Connor felt at ease. Wedged firmly between two worlds as he was, the prototype didn't have many that he could genuinely close. He had the Lieutenant, of course, the Jericho leaders & his successor. All precious in their own way, each standing by him, supporting him. But it felt better to hear it aloud. A small, gentle smile was aimed towards his companion. “Thank you , Markus." There was fatigue laced within his dusky voice, something which should have been impossible, yet it was a manifestation of his innermost feelings. Connor had never known that androids could be capable of mental exhaustion until he experienced it. Even worse, that it wasn't something one could remedy with any duration in stasis. It was just a little frustrating. He wished that he knew what to do. "I'm still so confused," he admitted, expression falling into one a little more somber. "I still don't know who I'm supposed to be, or who I even want to be.”

[dbhtychou]

Keep Me Warm

This is theoretically part of the “Deviant City” universe, the true sequel to “Chicago”. I just wanted to experiment with a scene that had both the Chicago Connor and Detroit Connor in the same room, and see how it would work juggling two characters with the same name.

Extra heavy on the Hot Android side with this one.

************

Connor felt the soft body stir before Samantha sat herself up in bed. It was still the middle of the night: fully dark outside. She soundlessly walked out, but Connor didn't follow. Normally, she would be in the bathroom for a few moments and then come right back to bed. He would wait for her return. Usually it earned him a good snuggle before she dozed off again.

This time, after a trip to the bathroom, he heard Samantha wander off down the hall. Connor still remained where he was. Over a year of sharing the same spaces together, he knew she didn't need or even like him to constantly trail her. She'd come back to bed eventually.

Samantha wandered out to the main living area. She kept the lights off; she always did. Haunting the night like a silent specter. She wandered the open space trying to figure out why she felt so off. A little feverish maybe? A little shivery. Her stomach kinda hurt. It could be her medication. It had made her not feel well in the middle of the night before. She walked to the kitchen, the fridge spraying the area with light for a moment as she poured herself a glass of milk and drank, hoping that would set her right.

She went back to wandering when she heard the front door unlock. In came Connor. Not her bodyguard. Not the one that was probably still in bed. The Connor they met when they came to Detroit.  The other RK800 that had become just as much a part in her life as the Connor she had known from Chicago. When the two identical androids were together, their friends called them Connor D. (Detroit) and Connor C. (Chicago) to differentiate the two. Here at home, they were both just Connor to Samantha.

The Connor from Detroit was the stray cat of the family. He had a key to let himself in, but he came and went as he pleased at all hours. This wasn't the only place he considered home, but he was always welcome there.

“Hey,” Samantha greeted quietly, as if there were people still sleeping. “So great to see you.”

Connor's expression softened at the sight of her, the side of his mouth pulling up into a smile. She always looked happy to see him, her face brightened, no matter how little or how much time it had been since their last greeting. It always made him feel warm to bask in her presence. He was aware he was slowly becoming addicted.

“You are up late. In the dark,” Connor observed. The only source of light was the glow from the band on his jacket and his LED.

“Woke up feeling a little weird. Just walking it off.”

He looked concerned and she knew he was going to ask why she was in the dark alone. But the other RK800 was already walking up the hall toward them. He was a shadow in the night in dark sweats and a t-shirt, no LED. It had taken a lot of work on Samantha's part to get the Connor from Chicago to be comfortable in casual wear. If it were up to him, he'd wear a three-piece suit 24/7. But comfy clothes were better for snuggling in bed.

“You're still up,” said Connor in casual. He pressed his fingers to the side of her neck. “You feel a little warm.”

“I actually feel kind of chilly.”

Connor the detective took his turn to touch her forehead. “A few degrees higher than normal,” he confirmed.

Both RK800s were now were touching parts of her skin, commenting on her temperature. Samantha took it with quiet tolerance, eyes closed. Sometimes, when the identical models were too close, their thoughts too much alike, they went into mimic mode: copying dialog and gestures from each other. Lieutenant Anderson said it was like watching two Furbies talk to each other, and twice as creepy. The two androids were never quite aware when they were doing it.

In the middle of the feedback loop, Samantha's stomach churned. She walked away and back to the bathroom. The androids, immediately silenced, followed. They found her sitting on the side of the tub, shivering. She tried to smile when they came in, but wasn't entirely appreciative of them following her around.

“You guys can go hang out. I'm just letting my tummy settle, then I'll go back to sleep.”

The two RK800s looked at each other. They were having a conversation she couldn't hear, she was sure of it. The two talked like that all the time, not realizing it. They were too synced. Two systems from the same network that joined far too easily.

She was about to press again that they should go do something else when her stomach clenched. She threw herself down by the toilet, just managing to get her hair out of the way before she threw up. A few more heaves and she fell back against the tub, panting. When one of the androids reached for her, she brushed him away and forced herself up to the sink. After rinsing her mouth, she moved past them, announcing she was going back to bed. They heard her body flop onto the mattress in the dark bedroom across the hall. Then all was still.

I feel like she's mad, Connor D. said over their link.

She's not. But she likes to take care of herself. She doesn't like to be overly doted on or babied. Connor's LED flickered as his brow furrowed. Then...what should we do?

Connor C. looked at the bedroom doorway and then down the hall. Let's go out for a while. I think she'll like if we leave her alone.

Clearly, Connor D. didn't agree, but he followed the older RK800 down the hall and watched as he put on a pair of sneakers. When they left the house and Connor C. locked the door, Connor D. spoke aloud this time.

“You are sure we should leave her if she's not well?”

“I can tell when she gets to that point where she wants her own space.” Connor C. started down the pathway to the sidewalk. “We'll let her sleep for a while and come back at dawn. She'll probably be feeling better by then. And Samantha likes it when we spend time together.”

Connor D. looked at him with a brow raised.

“She thinks of the two of us as family. Brothers, I suppose.”

Connor D.'s mouth turned down slightly. He was still grasping this concept of family, but the Other Connor didn't feel like a family member to him. More like they were two parts of the same network; a hive mind, working independently, but ultimately as one.

Connor C. gave him a quirked smile. Let's just humor Samantha for now.

*************

Dawn was peering over the horizon when the androids returned. Inside, they entered to the sound of retching down the hall. They found Samantha practically hugging the toilet as she continued to heave into the bowl.

“Sam?” Connor C. asked as she spat out the last of the bile.

With low coordination, she managed to flush and turned in their direction. There was no color to her face. “Okay, I think I'm sick,” she admitted with a dry throat.

The androids looked at each other. Hopefully she was done having her own space now and ready to accept some help.

Connor C. stooped to offer her a hand, but she waved it away.

“No, I'm going to stay here. I don't think I'm done with the barfing yet.”

If he still had his LED, it would have been flickering in the yellow. “Then what can I do?”

“Get me a blanket and some water please?”

He left with his task. Connor D. remained, carefully sitting on the bathroom floor beside her. She still knelt in front of the toilet, arms folded on the seat, waiting for another wave.

“That looks like it hurts,” he said sympathetically.

“Weirdly, there's a part of it that feels good. Your stomach hurts so bad, you would give anything to get rid of it. Then you have that one moment of relief when you've puked it all out. Tummy's okay again. But then it starts all over.”

A blanket dropped over her shoulders and Connor C. handed her a cold glass of water. She sipped it gingerly, then groaned when her stomach roiled again.

“What else can I do?” Connor asked, hovering.

“Nothing. I've got a stomach bug. There's nothing to be done but ride it out.”

He kept hovering. He touched her shoulders. “Just let me--”

“I don't need your help puking my guts out,” she cut him off with a cranky tone. “I just need to be left alone. Go do something else for a while.”

She motioned to Connor D. as well to get himself out of her bathroom and the RK800s grudgingly left. It was another twenty minutes of dry heaves and retching out the water she drank before Samantha decided it was safe enough to leave the toilet for a while. Directly outside the bathroom, an identical android sat on either side of the door.

“For the love of crap,” she grouched at them. “I promise, you two can go do something else. I'm just going to stay in bed--” She paused as she suddenly felt light-headed and her vision flickered black for just a second.

Both androids were on their feet as she swayed, catching her between them. For a moment, the three of them hung there. Two firm, strong bodies pressed against her, holding her up. Another time, if this happened when she wasn't so sick, something like this would have sent her heart racing, a healthy flush to her cheeks. Instead, she felt the thud of their thirium pumps. They were worried about her.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Please put me to bed. I'm going to rest.”

Happy to have a task, Connor C. picked her up as gently as he could and set her under he blankets. Samantha then told them both to leave her alone so she could sleep.

The disgruntled androids hovered in the hall, not at all satisfied with their situation.

She is not being very cooperative, Connor D. complained.

I know, his counterpart agreed with a frown. She's acting like she doesn't trust us to know what to do.

She's right. We really don't know anything about taking care of sick humans.

Connor C. looked thoughtful. What if we contacted someone who does? Who do we know that knows more about humans than anyone else?

The two androids thought hard about all the different individuals they knew.

*************

There was a soft knock at the door. It was opened to reveal the blonde countenance of a PL600. He looked less than thrilled to be there.

“Alright, where's the patient?” Simon asked.

The two Connors pointed him down toward the bedroom, but were hesitant to follow him inside. Simon stepped in brazenly. The little human didn't hold the same sway over him.

“Samantha.”

She groaned and raised her head. “Oh my God. Did they call you?”

“I'm afraid so.”

“Don't you have more experience taking care of children?”

“In my experience, all humans are children when they're sick.”

She huffed at the implication as he walked over to her.

“Why did those two call you of all people?”

He smirked. “Because you and I both know they are idiots when it comes to things like this.” She snorted as he sat on the bed next to her. “But they're your idiots and they care about you very much. That's why I came.”

She sighed. “There's still nothing you can do.”

“There's some things I can do. First we're going to set you up on the couch. It will be harder to sleep tonight if you've been in the bed all day.”

With great effort, Samantha pulled herself out of bed, draping one of the blankets over her shoulders. She shuffled out and began to sway as she entered the hall. Simon was there, an arm around her shoulder to steady her.

“You've got it pretty bad.”

“I've never been this sick. I've only had it this morning and it's already knocked me out this much.”

The RK800s comically kept their distance as Simon set her up in the living room. They seemed afraid of earning the human's wrath after calling for reinforcements and waited for him to approach them after he was finished.

“So what can we do?” Connor C. asked.

“I have a whole list of things you can do. To start, one of you can clean the kitchen while the other goes out for groceries.”

Both Connors frowned at him.

“That's not what I meant.”

Simon raised a challenging brow. “You're saying you expect her to clean this house after she recovers? And when she's able to keep food down again, she should do her own shopping before she can eat? You two make terrible boyfriends.”

Connor C. looked offended. Connor D. was surprised. Yes, he was over all the time, her cared about her—about them both—a great deal. But...boyfriend? He wasn't like that to her...was he?

“I'll stay here and clean,” Connor C. said with a dark glare. Of course he would stay. Those bodyguard protocols wouldn't allow him to go too far when Samantha was vulnerable and weak. Even they were out walk earlier, thinking Samantha would be fine, the two RK800s just kept circling the block. “Connor will do the shopping.”

He didn't even have to ask Connor D. if he agreed to it. There were things the two RK800s just knew about each other through their shared network. Connor D. nodded to confirm.

*************

Samantha woke from her dozing when she heard the front door shut. Connor D. walked past them, grocery bags in hand. At some time while she slept, he had removed his android jacket and tie. Only his pressed white shirt remained, the top buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to the elbows. It was a good look for him.

“Did you send him to the store?” she asked.

Simon was on the couch with her while she snoozed. He picked a movie and then allowed Samantha to set a pillow on his lap so they could both fit.

“Yes, I put them to work,” Simon said proudly. “To keep them out of both our hair.”

“Where's the other Connor?”

“He angrily cleaned the kitchen and now I can hear him angrily cleaning the bathroom.”

Even from the living room, they could hear Connor furiously scrubbing the tub down the hall. Samantha found it amusing. She had never seen Connor clean before. Her philosophy is if you make the mess, you clean it up. She was the one who used the bathroom and kitchen. She never expected someone else to clean up after her.

“Why is he so mad?”

“Probably because I'm here with you and he's cleaning.”

She snorted, but gently. Her head was pounding something fierce.

“You should let them help you,” Simon suggested.

“I don't like Connor treating me like I need his help and protection every minute of the day. He's got that stupid bodyguard program in him and it makes him too obsessed. I don't want his entire life to just evolve around me. I want him to be able to go out and make friends, do things on his own.”

“He can still have all that and take care of you while you're sick. You're obsessive, too. You have to stop trying to protect him from what you imagine is bad for him. Let him make his own decisions.”

She sighed.

“I'm going to let them take care of you,” Simon said as he eased himself from under her.

“Must you?” she whispered as she saw Connor D. lurking in the doorway.

“I will leave them with instructions. It will be fine,” Simon said. “Call me when you feel better.”

*****************

Samantha dozed for a minute, then Connor D. in his pressed shirt came in. He set down a tray table with saltines and ginger ale, informing her to eat a little at a time when she felt like she could hold something down. Samantha ignored it. She had never felt this sick in her life. Death was preferable to feeling like this.

Connor then tried to finagle himself into Simon's old spot. Samantha closed her eyes, praying for patience as he lifted her and then set her head in his lap. She didn't feel like being moved or touched, but she also didn't want to get cross with him. He was trying. Then, when her head was settled, he began running his fingers through her hair and she forgave everything. This was the only thing that felt good on this day of misery. She was soon fast asleep.

***********

She woke up later to Connor still where he was, the TV still going. Connor C. was there now, too. Sitting on the floor, his back against the couch. He turned his head when she touched his hair.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” she croaked.

He looked so lost. “How can I help you?”

She caressed his check. “My soft android.”

“You should try to eat something,” he responded sternly.

She sighed. He wasn't going to stop trying. And she loved him. More than anything else in the world. So she forced herself to sit up and nibble on some crackers. Soon after, she stumbled weakly to the bathroom and threw up again. She returned to the couch and pointedly turned her back on them and fell asleep.

Later that evening, she tried eating again under the androids' watchful eyes. This time, it stayed down, so she allowed them to warm some broth for her.

When when it was time for bed, the androids insisted she take a hot bath. Simon's orders, no doubt. Samantha didn't have the fight left in her and they took full advantage of her weakness. Standing in the pristinely cleaned bathroom, one RK helped her undress while the other ran the bathwater. She was so out of it, she wasn't even paying attention to which one was which. Sometimes, it seemed they were both just Connor.

Even though it was warm in the bathroom, she shivered violently when her skin was exposed. Her head still pounded. Android arms pulled her into a warm body. It felt nice, even though her whole body ached. And she knew both those silly androids would climb into the bath with her—fully clothed—if she let them. So she insisted she could get in herself.

The bath was deliciously hot and scared away all her tremors after a moment. She tried to shoo the androids away, but they didn't go far. Samantha closed her eyes for a while, and then opened them to find Connor D. sitting on the toilet lid reading a book. Connor C. sat like a silent guardian against the side of the tub. She ran her finger behind the shell of his ear and he looked her way.

“I'm sorry I am being difficult today,” she whispered.

“I'm difficult everyday, so I'll allow it,” he replied with gentle humor. Then he turned and dipped his fingers in the water. “It's cooling down, you should get out.”

She tried not to sigh at the newest order. “A little longer. I don't think I have it in me to get up yet.”

“You don't have to do anything. We'll do it for you.” He promptly pulled the plug and she shivered as the water receded.

“Just put in more hot water.”

“You need to get dry and go to bed. Being wet for too long is not healthy.”

She didn't say anything. Samantha decided to give them this. She could practically see the two RK800s go into Tandem Mode. Connor D. was the one to step up and brazenly lift her nude body out of the water.

“You're getting yourself soaked,” she pointed out.

“It's fine,” he assured her. “Clothes dry.”

Connor C. wrapped her in a towel and carried her back to the bedroom where she was placed on the bed and quickly dried. As she began to shiver again, Connor D. returned with a large, plush sweater.

“I put this in the dryer for you,” he announced proudly.

“That's my sweater,” Connor C. protested.

Trust me, Connor D. transmitted as he tugged the overly-large material over her head.

Samantha instantly snuggled into it. “It's like a warm, fluffy cloud,” she crooned. It was the best mood they had seen from her all day. She stayed in sweeter spirits as they dressed her in warm socks and plush sleep pants. Connor C. had to concede that it had been a good idea.

She was promptly put to bed, the lights turned out. It was a bit before her bedtime, but Samantha was ready to go. Still dressed in the T-shirt and sweats from the night before, Connor C. slid under the covers with her. There was finality in his actions. He would abide no discussion on this. Samantha had no argument left. She was silently quite satisfied with cuddling up to his warm body for the night.

Behind her, the second body slipped under the covers. His shirt and pants were missing.

“My clothes were wet,” Connor D. said at her questioning look. “Is that alright? I can put something on.”

“You do what makes you comfortable,” she replied. Something she had told their stray cat of an android many a time. He was allowed to be a part of their lives in whichever way suited him best.

In the dark, the two bodies caged her in, limbs draped all around her. Samantha was too exhausted and out of it to really process it all. But it was comfortable and warm. Her head still hurt, but she managed to drift off.

In the middle of the night she awoke, hot and sweating. The two androids were practically smothering her and she squirmed between them with a whine. When they figured out what she was trying to do, there were helping hands removing the sweater and pants.

“Won't you be cold?” one of the androids asked.

“Keep me warm,” she murmured, snuggling in.

She was already dozing off again as she felt hands check the temperature of her face and neck. Then the two forms settled in around her once again. She sighed, skin to skin was always better. Even more than fuzzy boyfriend sweaters. She fell asleep to the gentle thrumming of two RK800 thirium pumps pressed against her.

[prettybillycore]

Please Don't Die Again || Connor (RK800) x GN!Reader

Pairing(s): Connor (RK800) x GN!Reader ; Minor Elijah Kamski x GN!Reader

Universe: Detroit: Become Human

Summary: You, a former employee at Cyberlife, now work as a Detective along side Hank and Connor. As the android revolution begins, Connor finds himself faced with a choice– his mission or you. 

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, yandere!Elijah Kamski, Gun violence, Connor (rk800) temporary death

A/N: Ahhh! My first non-stranger things request this summer; I have so much love in my heart for Deviant!Connor. I decided to follow the advice of @whoringrove and work on whatever my brain was most drawn to. Right now, I’m working on the second chapter of “Stranger Things Have Happened in Hawkins” but because it takes place in ST3 canon ‘verse, I really need to rewatch the whole season before finishing it. I’m itching to create right now, not watch something, so oop here’s an rk800 x reader fic. I hope you enjoy @momos-peaches <3

Read it on AO3 or right here on Tumblr (below the cut on this post)

You knew Connor could die and be placed inside of a new body– Hank told you about the one time he was killed before; he was hit by a car going down the freeway. However, you were not there to witness that death. You had never personally seen Connor die and you most certainly weren’t the cause. This was not the freeway incident though, this was the battle for android freedom in Detroit. 

You were once on the side of the city, protecting humans at all costs. Now, you were at the center of the android revolution– and Connor’s blue blood was on your hands. 

| < ♥️ > |

You were born into a well-off family and your mother worked in the technology industry. You grew up with Elijah Kamski as your best friend and worked with him for the first several years of your adult life. You were the creative mind behind a lot of the aesthetic choices– clothes, facial structures, etc. There was enjoyment and pride in your work at first, but you watched Elijah turn into a shell of his fun-loving self. He became more arrogant and honestly an ass to be around. You kept him within your social circle because you couldn’t bear to lose someone so close to you, but you didn’t agree with the treatment of his android companions. You weren’t as technologically gifted as him, but you helped him create the first androids. You wanted them to be treated with respect and kindness– Elijah saw them as nothing more than machines. He tormented you for it and you ended up leaving your very high-paying job at Cyberlife before he left his. You went back to school and ended up joining the police force as a detective– he retired to a mansion in the middle of nowhere. He invited you over often, but you started accepting fewer invitations as you started working more hours. 

Hank Anderson worked at the desk across from yours. You had very different views on androids, but he was a gentle soul to you. He valued your opinions on his cases highly and often requested to work with you over other detectives. It warmed your heart and gave you a father figure you could actually reach out to. This is how you met RK800, better known as “Connor.” 

He was far more advanced than any of the androids you worked on and his physical appearance wasn’t your design. You guessed that he was made by the team that replaced yours and you were honestly amazed by his existence. His data analysis software was incredible and he was extremely skilled in crime scene investigation. You knew the moment that you met him at the Ortiz house, you knew he was special. 

| < ♥️ > |

You were already inside the house when he entered behind Hank. You smiled at the two of them as they came inside. You stood up from your place over the body, “Ah, Lieutenant Anderson, I thought you might never come.”

He rolled his eyes as he approached. Connor was matching his pace. You eyed him curiously, but pretended not to notice him– as much as you could, anyway. Though, you are sure Connor noticed your glances. “I wasn’t gonna come, but this jackass showed up at Jimmy’s bar and said you were working this one alone. Thought you might want a hand.”

“Extra hands are always welcome at my crime scenes; we could use all the help we can get to be honest with you. Household androids are becoming more unstable every day… I just don’t understand why. Take a look at the scene in the kitchen, Lieutenant; something awful.”

“Can do,” he replied shortly before walking past you.

Your eyes fell on Connor, who was standing stiffly a few feet from you. “I would shake your hands, but I’m gloved and have blood on me… what’s your name?”

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife to assist Lieutenant Anderson with the rise in deviant cases.” His answer was stark and to the point, but there was something behind the inflection of his voice. You could feel his gaze; it was dull and unwavering. 

“I’m guessing you already know who I am based on what Hank said.”

He nodded curtly. “Y/n L/n. Current Detective at Detroit Police Department and former Creative Director of Cyberlife.”

You smiled again. “Indeed, it’s nice to meet you, Connor.”

| < ♥️ > |

The next two days were some of the most action-packed and traumatic days of your life. You protected Connor from Gavin’s android hatred, searched the Eden Club, and witness an unmasked android give a freedom speech on national television– not to mention all the cases that were piling up of deviants committing felonies. You felt protective of Connor at this point and he felt protective of you, though he didn’t understand why he felt that way. Hank was still a little skeptical of Connor as you approached your childhood friend’s home, but you had no doubts in your mind– Connor wasn’t just human-like, he was human. Much like many of the androids you were trying to track down/stop, he showed bright, shining signs of humanity. It made you incredibly nervous to take him with you to Elijah’s. It made you so nervous, in fact, you asked him to do something very unlike you.

Hank stopped the car outside of the Kamski residence. Connor was in the back seat and started to open his door before you squeaked out, “Connor, stay here.”

“What?” Hank questioned. 

Connor pulled the door shut again, but kept his hand on the handle. “Why, Detective?”

“Uh…” you faltered. You felt silly saying it, but you were sincerely worried for Connor’s safety in Elijah’s presence. As much as you hated it, the man could read you like an open book. He would know that you cared for Connor and would do everything he could to use that connection to his advantage. “Kamski will try to turn me against you, I just know.”

“Oh come on, Y/n. You’re not going to turn your back on me and Connor. We’ll all be fine,” Hank assured.

“I would feel much better about this visit if Connor were to stay in the car. He is safe in the car,” You argued.

Hank rolled his eyes. “If anything happens to him, as much as I hate it, Cyberlife will fix him and he’ll be back on the job tomorrow.”

“I appreciate the concern Detective, but Lieutenant Anderson is right. I am replaceable.”

Hearing those words absolutely shattered your heart. “Connor…”

Hank patted your shoulder. “Come on, kid. He’ll be fine. Let’s go get this over with. I know you hate this fucker as much as I do.”

| < ♥️ > |

Elijah had his eyes on you from the moment you walked into the swimming pool room. There were quite a few Chloe models present, which did not surprise you. She was the first model to pass the Turing test and you had designed her (aesthetically speaking). Elijah had little touches of your relationship all over his house– your painting in the entryway, a few drawings of yours on the walls, even a picture of you two as kids in a frame on a table near the window, and of course Chloe. Though he was taking his sweet time getting out of the pool, he was keeping a close eye on you. You weren’t the only one to notice these details though– they were noticed by Connor and Hank both. The feeling of his eyes on you made your skin crawl as he climbed out of the pool. “I was surprised to see your name on my schedule, Y/n, but I am oh so happy to see you again. What’s it been? Six months?”

You did your best not to falter at his words, but his tone sent a chill up your spine. “I’ve been busy with my work at DPD. You know that, Elijah.” You used his first name on purpose; you were hoping it would throw him off his game. When you worked together at Cyberlife, you fell into the habit of calling him Kamski; everyone else did, so when you called him by his first name, it usually knocked the snark out of him. “These are my friends; Lieutenant Anderson and Connor.”

“What can I do for you, Y/n? Lieutenant?” He asked, only addressing you and Hank. It was annoying you slightly that he was being so informal with you, but at the end of the day, you couldn’t blame him. You two had such a long history it would be sort of unsettling for him to call you ‘detective’, though you despised him calling you just by your first name. It gave you a feeling of disgust in the deepest pit of your stomach. 

You could see the weary look on Hank’s face. It wasn’t surprising– he was fairly protective over you. What was a little surprising was the fact that Connor’s LED was circling yellow to red and back again. Your words felt like they were trapped in your throat, so Hank picked up the conversation. “Sir, we’re investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago but, I was hoping you'd be able to tell us something we don’t know…”

Kamski smirked, “Deviants… Fascinating, aren't they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will… Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable… Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn’t it ironic?”

“We need to understand how androids become deviants. Do you know anything that could help us?” Connor questioned. Elijah’s strong gaze shifted to him for a moment. Then, it shifted between the two of you. You had a bad feeling before you walked inside the house, but it was getting stronger with every passing second that you all were inside. You shifted slightly, placing yourself vaguely in front of Connor. Your eyes met Elijah’s and you could see him deeply contemplating his next move. 

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics... Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

Hank was becoming impatient with the conversation. You could see it plainly on his face and in his body language. “Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that'll be helpful, or we will be on our way.”

Elijah began to step closer to you and Connor. You tilted your head while shooting your former best friend a questioning look. You knew that he was paying attention to you, but he didn’t acknowledge you at all. He kept his eyes trained on your android companion, while his fingers twitched at his sides. “What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

You looked away from Elijah and toward Connor. He was looking back at you, but only for a brief moment. The light on his temple was still flicking between yellow and red as he looked toward Elijah, “It's not about me, Mr. Kamski. All I want is to solve this case.”

Elijah chuckled a bit, pulling his lip with his teeth. “Well, that's what you're programmed to say… but you…” He was getting uncomfortably close to both you and Connor. He angled himself so he was off to the side a little bit, away from you, but he was still less than a foot away now. His glance came toward you for a moment before going back to Connor, “What do you really want?”

Your eyes were glued to Elijah. You, Hank, and Connor were all weaponless because that was an agreement of the meeting, but you were still trying to calculate the best way to incapacitate him if things went south. Connor, again, glanced in your direction, but you didn’t notice this time. Elijah and Hank both did though. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see where you're getting at,” he replied. His defensive tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, though.

“Y/n, would you mind stepping over to stand next to Chloe?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“I would like to run a little test on your android and you’re blocking my way.”

You knew exactly what test he meant. There was nothing else he could mean with that evil little glimmer in his eye, “No way in hell you’re doing to that to him. I won’t let you.”

He had a curious expression on his face. He had completely turned his attention to you. His hand came to rest on your upper arm as he answered. “Interesting. You’re so protective of a machine, I mean, you always have been rather fond of androids, but that adorable angry look on your face– oh you care about it, don’t you, Angel?” 

You nearly gagged at the nickname. You knew he had feelings for you somewhere in your past, but he hadn’t called you ‘angel’ since you were in your early twenties. He stopped after you rejected him. It’s probably where the bitterness in your relationship started. God, you felt like you were going to be sick. Hank was in shock behind you and didn’t know how to intervene; Connor felt like he was frozen in place. His orders were telling him to focus on the mission, but the thought “protect y/n” was trying to force itself to become his primary directive. Elijah took the opportunity to place his free hand under your chin. His fingers dug into your skin. “What? Did I hit a nerve, detective?” That smirk planted itself on his face again. “Chloe, get the device.” His eyes never left yours. Your brain was screaming at you to rip yourself from his grasp, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. His hand moved from your chin to your other arm. He forced you out of the way as Chloe pulled a gun out of the table drawer. He almost threw you out of the way he used so much force. You stumbled into the chair next to the table and sucked in a harsh breath. Connor’s LED was completely red, but he was still unable to pick a directive. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, simple question of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it "the Kamski test", it's very simple, you'll see…” He turned to Chloe, an almost hungry look in his eyes as he took the gun from her hands. “Magnificent, isn't it? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife, completely designed by Y/n and myself. Young and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither……But what is it really? Piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being... With a soul…?” Elijah handed the gun to Connor. “It's up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor. Destroy this machine and I'll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it's alive, but you'll leave here without having learned anything from me.”

Hank found his voice again after seeing the fear in your eyes. “Okay, I think we’re done here. Come on, Connor. Let's go. Sorry to get you outta your pool.”

Elijah was getting more and more in Connor’s face. “What's more important to you, Connor? Your investigation, or the life of this android? Decide who you are. An obedient machine… Or a living being endowed with free will…”

“That's enough! Connor, Y/n, we���re leaving.”

“Pull the trigger,” Elijah taunted. It was like watching the angel and devil on Connor’s shoulders. He looked to you for an answer. Elijah had aimed the gun at Chloe and for Connor, it would be just one quick motion, but… 

“Connor, don’t…” Hank said.

Connor was searching your face for an answer. “Please no…” you mumbled. 

“I'll tell you what you wanna know,” Elijah mumbled.

Connor lowered the gun and could feel himself destabilizing. Elijah sighed and moved away from Connor. He walked back over the table and opened the drawer again. Before you could process what was happening, he yanked you to your feet and had his hand around your neck. You could feel him closing his fingers tightly enough to start cutting off your oxygen. You grabbed at his hand for a moment, before you felt the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against your temple. Your breath was gone from your lungs. You never would have seen this coming. “Eli–” You couldn’t get his whole name out. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Kamski?” Hank shouted. All of the Chloe models that were still in the pool had begun to watch. 

“Fascinating… CyberLife's last chance to save humanity... is itself a deviant…” Elijah mused. “I have another test for you, Connor. We’ll call it the Y/n test.” He relaxed his fingers slightly so you could breathe again. “You, a piece of plastic, have somehow managed to capture Y/n’s attention.” He rubbed his thumb across your chin so softly it almost felt like a comforting gesture. “I could have given them everything. A mansion, wealth beyond anything they have ever seen, they never would have had to work a day in their whole life, but they turned me down. They left Cyberlife and eventually became a detective. Ever since they joined DPD they’ve been slipping farther and farther away. I can’t even get them to come over for a meal anymore, but you… in a few days, they have become completely enamored with you.” His hands were trembling with anger. He began constricting your air again. “This test should be easy for you Connor; shoot the Chloe model and I will let Y/n go, unharmed. You three will walk out of here with no information, but the detective will be fine and Chloe will be replaced. If you refuse to shoot Chloe, I’ll shoot your favorite human, but I will tell you everything I know. Are you willing to sacrifice the life of this human for your mission? Someone’s going to die, Connor. It’s up to you to decide.” Elijah clicked the safety off. 

Connor looked between you, Chloe, and Hank. You had been in danger before with your job, but this was the closest you had ever come to death. Connor could read the terror in your expression. Hank was scared too. Connor had never seen Hank truly scared before. “Kamski–”

“Quiet! This is Connor’s choice.”

Connor closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. Chloe shut down almost instantly and Elijah dropped his gun on the ground next to him. He let go of your throat and Connor rushed forward to catch you. You pulled in as many deep breaths as you could. Connor’s sensors scanned your injuries and determined quickly, that while extremely distressed, that you were relatively unharmed. Without saying anything, he wrapped his arm under your knees and behind your back. “Let’s go, quickly Lieutenant.”

Hank didn’t argue and neither did Elijah. Connor nearly ran to the car with you in his arms, jumping into the back of the vehicle with you. “Y/n? Are you alright, Y/n?” You nodded as you started to catch your breath. Hank got into the driver’s seat and started down the road as quickly as he could. “What’s their status, Connor?”

“Stable, but we should have them seen by a doctor to make sure Kamski didn’t cause any serious damage.”

“Guys… I’ll be fine.”

“Shut up, Y/n. If Connor says you should see a doctor, we’re stopping at a doctor.”

| < ♥️ > |

Connor had no idea that you had tailed him to Jericho. You were so careful not to let him see you. You followed him all the way up to Markus and North in the Captain’s cabin. North had a gun, but from what you could tell, it was jammed.  “What are you doing? You are one of us… You can’t betray your own people…”

You had met Markus before; he was one of your designs. You never imagined that he would end up being RA9, but knowing Carl, it made sense. Carl treated Markus as another son and gave him freedoms that many other androids did not have. “You're coming with me!”

“You're nothing to them. You're just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you're more than that. We are all more than that… Do you never have any doubts? You’ve never done something irrational, as if there's something inside you?.. Something more than your program.”

You couldn’t tell what Connor or North was thinking so you decided it was best to intervene before something went wrong. “Connor!” you called. His head snapped in your direction before he started looking at North and Markus again. 

“What are you doing here, Detective? How did you find me?”

“Connor, put the gun down. Markus is good, I promise. We’ve met before.”

“I don’t believe my eyes,” Markus said. “Y/n L/n. You designed me for Carl.”

You tossed him a soft smile. “Hello again, Markus.” You walked around Connor’s side and walked in front of his gun. 

“Y/n don’t–”

“You don’t have to do this, Connor. You have done something irrational. There is something more than your program, just like Markus said. You had no idea if Elijah would have gone through with his threat. You could have followed orders and let me die. You could have learned whatever you wanted about deviants from him, but you didn’t– you saved me because you care about me, Connor. I know you do! Put the gun down and we can talk about this. I know Cyberlife is telling you that Markus is the enemy, but he’s not and you know that he’s not.”

Connor lowered the gun to his side, but he didn’t drop it. You stepped to the side where he was holding it and set your hand on his. You were going to continue talking him down, but a loud bang came from behind you and the next thing you knew, Connor had blue blood dripping from a bullet wound– right between his eyes. Markus shouted at North and you screamed bloody murder as he collapsed. “Fuck! FUCK, CONNOR! Don’t you fucking leave me here…”

| < ♥️ > |

Life was not going so well for anyone around you at this point. You were at Hank’s house; your head in your hands as you sat on the couch. Sumo was whining for you to cheer up, but you couldn’t. Connor’s death was just replaying in your mind on repeat. Hank was in the kitchen and not doing much better than you. The both of you were so out of it, that you didn’t hear the bedroom window being open and shut. “Lieutenant!” Connor shouted. “Lieutenant it’s me! I need your help!”

You shot up from the couch and Hank bolted in from the kitchen. “Connor? How–”

“Cyberlife will always replace me. I’ve found Markus and the others. He’s shown me what I can really be, I… I’m deviant. I offered to go to Cyberlife to gather more androids for the war, but… I’m scared and I need help. I wanted to see you, Y/n, but I was afraid of that too.”

“Fuck…” You used your hands to wipe the fresh tears from your eyes. “Connor… I… you died in my arms. I watched you fucking die right in front of me… You can’t do that shit…”

“Y/n… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix it! It’s not your fault anyway… North shot you because she thought you would kill her and Markus. I’m glad your back, but it’s so fucking weird. It’s messing with my brain…”

Connor slowly started to walk around the couch. “Can I do anything?”

“You… Please don’t die again! I can’t do that again. Your blood was everywhere and I felt so fucking helpless. Markus just kept apologizing and I didn’t know what to do. We had to leave your body and run because soldiers started attacking Jericho. I felt so bad, but I couldn’t carry you out, I–” 

Connor reached out and set his hand on you shoulder. “It’s alright now, Y/n. I know how much my death upset Hank and I can see it hurt you. I will do everything I can not to die again.”

The softness of his voice and his simple touch did you in completely. You rushed forward and wrapped your arms around him. “You better not die again, I need you here.”

[murswrites]

🌝 Connor RK800 with a s/o who trying to explain to the importance of fairytales and fantasy stories?

connor is my weakness omg.

C: "why do these little books mean so much?"

you two are at a museum, there are original copies of Alice in Wonderland and other classics protected behind thick glass

Y: "they're stories, they have whole worlds inside them. that one was always my favorite as a child."

C: "i don't understand how they're better than say, a film?"

Y: "you know how you can visualize anything in your head? well, these stories have made millions of people do almost the same as you. they're proof of humanity."

C: "what is a wonderland?"

his literal interpretation of everything is so endearing bc like, he KNOWS why they matter statistically (they were popular) but why they'd be treated so gently confuses him.

🌸 Join in my birthday event! 🌸