#the ostensive fumblings of being human | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollowcrovvn · 5 years

Text

The Ostensive Fumblings of Being Human (part 1) | Connor x f!reader

Pairing: Connor x female!reader Rating: G for Gross Cute Crap Summary: Set two months after the ending of Detroit: Become Human, androids are living in their own pop-up communities while efforts are being made to integrate them into society. You are a grad-student volunteer with the Detroit Crisis Response Unit (DCRU), working to help with relief efforts… or at least, keep those who are doing so in coffee. On your caffeine runs, you bump into a young man whose matter of fact way of speaking and seemingly deadpan humor catches your interest.

Note: I should point out, as of yet, the idea is that you don’t know Connor is an android. You think he’s just Like That™. There should be a lot of fluff and prompts stolen straight from a list for aro/ace scenes if I keep this up.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (ao3)

The revolution had come and gone, but it’s aftermath thrummed through the streets of Detroit, setting a new pulse in the heartlands. For one intoxicating moment on November 12th, 2038, the androids felt their cause heard, their existence validated and their lives their own. It had been a hard battle up that hill and now came the slow, dangerous descent down the other side. When you’re fighting in a revolution, “What comes next?” isn’t always the foremost thought because you are not even certain if there exists a next.

As a grad-student intern of the newly reformed Detroit Crisis Response Unit, you were part of the answer to that question. The DCRU existed to act as a relief effort in times of flood, famine and fire, but now it was called to a new purpose, one that existed in no procedural manual. Some Androids found the reference of their liberation as a “crisis” offensive, but you knew that the sudden displacement of thousands upon thousands of newly made people, with specific physical needs, was a social crisis, if not a natural one.

But you kept the opinions to yourself because honestly, you weren’t a soldier, or a cop-- hell, you were just someone who signed up for the group back in college to pad your resume with some bullshit extracurricular. Now you had a damn vest and a badge and you were walking in and out of the quick pop up facilities, meeting with leaders of the revolution themselves and acting as liaison with them and Cyberlife or the government or anyone else contracted to provide aid.

Well, not specifically you, but you did once meet North who was very professional and very brief and caught a glimpse of Markus speaking to superiors regarding new shipments of thirium.

Parts and blood. You hated being a pessimist, but it still seemed to you that the Androids were quite shackled to humanity without their own means of production yet available. The Androids knew it too. This freedom still had a question mark hanging in the air and that added a certain level of tension.

You knew it was not the typical reaction of people within your group, but you were kinda scared of them. The Androids looked at you with either barely veiled contempt or outright suspicion. It was expected, you were briefed on it, but still the instability coupled with unpredictability and superior strength made you wary. Yes, they experienced emotions, but they did so so intensely and so suddenly-- like a teenager or a child. Developmentally speaking, maybe that is where their emotions were-- or maybe it was a byproduct of being oppressed? You didn’t know and it was off putting for someone who’d grown up with only docile domestic androids. You set that aside though, knowing there were more important things happening than your comfort level.

For one thing, Cyberlife stock was in freefall. The question was soon becoming whether the company could even remain afloat long enough to be apart of negotiations into creating Android operated facilities.

But that wasn’t your job, your job, as of today, was to get coffee.

That was pretty much your job everyday.

It was late January, the snow outside had let up and the sun had even come out, giving the whole of Detroit a blinding wash. Colors stood out on the stark canvas, the blue pelts of salt crunching beneath your boots as bright as thirium. Your breath crystallized, something you noted absent among the Androids at the relief site. Still, they needed warmth as much as humans to keep their systems from failing.

Your cheeks stung with cold as soon as you walked into the warm coffee shop, filing into line. You tugged your beanie back slightly, feeling flush and iced at the same time. The line had stopped moving along as the woman at the head began arguing with increasing annoyance with the barista.

“This is a raspberry mocha, it should be a raspberry white mocha. And I said extra hot, and no whip! Not extra whip!”

The coffeeshop was staffed by all humans, a rare sight merely a few months ago, but now one that was required. But this meant the return of human error-- something that people were still getting used to again.

“Sounds like she could have done with the extra whip as a child…” you muttered, and the man in front of you chuckled. He was bundled like the rest of the people in here, with a beanie and gloves, but his jacket was considerably less bulky and more of the sleek kind you were used to seeing fashion conscious people picking.

“If only it were enough to also correct her terrible tastes.” the man said, casting a glance over his shoulder at you. He had warm brown eyes, “I have been told the addition of sugar to coffee is an affront. Specifically the fruit imitation kind.”

“Only if your fifty and grouchy.” you replied, “Or in your case, more like a hipster.”

A scoff. He’d turned now, addressing you fully and you could see the crisp white shirt and tie at the V where his jacket was unzipped.

“”Hipster”, defined as a person who follows the latest trends and fashions outside of the cultural mainstream.” he said, his eyes doing a quick trip up and down you, “Your jacket is a vintage remake, circa 2003. Very obscure label.”

You felt yourself grin, “Is it? You tell me, hippy. Seems you’re the expert.”

“I just did.” he said and you couldn’t help but wonder how long he practiced the “innocent confusion” tone.

You’d reached the front at last and sure enough the man ordered one black coffee to go.

“You’re killing me. I’m getting second hand heartburn just looking at that pitiful thing.”

He smiled, but did not drink, watching you with leveled interest. It was your turn to order. You sighed and fished out your notepad, quickly running off the drink orders on it. Caramel macchiato, Cinnamon dolce with an extra shot, unicorn frappe, London fog....

“The usual then?” the barista said with a smile and you nodded.

When you were finished, the Hipster was still there, “Ma’am, I do not know how to tell you this, but I think you may have a caffeine based addiction.”

“They aren’t all for me!” you laughed, shaking your head, “And it’s --- , “Ma’am” is my mother.”

“Her parents had an interesting choice of name.”

That got another laugh from you, this guy was turning out to be the highlight of your morning. He tilted his head as if not certain where the joke was and it only made you laugh more.

“Your comedic timing is really something.” you muttered, picking up the full drink cart and realizing with a little disappointment it was time to part ways. He smiled politely, stepping out of your way.

He held the door for you on the way out and headed for a car waiting on the curb. There was an older guy at the wheel, who leaned half into the passenger seat to give him a critical look.

“Well, have a good morning, hippy.” you said, flashing him the brightest smile, “Certainly improved mine.”

“You are welcome. May I ask though, which drink was yours?”

“Why?”

“I am curious and wish to form a value judgement based on the choice.”

Man, he was so good at that deadpan humor. The man in the car honked his horn at him, voice muffled as he yelled through the glass something about “freezing his balls off in here”.

With Hipster distracted you took the time to hurry off, calling out a quick, “You’ll just have to guess!” before heading briskly down the sidewalk.

Another day, another coffee run, but this time it was just for you. The sky was blotted grey, fluffy clusters of snow falling slowly through the air as if they too couldn't be bothered to rush in the morning. You would have done anything to have stayed in bed, wrapped in a heated blanket and nested in a sea of pillows.

Instead, you stood in line, bleary eyed and tired, because you were out of ground coffee again.

It was that very sleepiness that made you not notice immediately the face of the person ahead who was raising a hand at you in greeting.

It was the guy, the handsome hipster guy from a few weeks ago with his one black coffee, his sleek jacket and red beanie. Your heart pattered and you resisted an urge to punch yourself in your own stupid chest as a silent demand to cut that out.

“Good morning!” he said, with far too much pep.

You smiled faintly, mumbling a vague, “Is it…” beneath your breath as you approached the counter.

“It is currently overcast, but the cloud coverage has raised temperatures ten degrees. My partner informed me that, “sounds like a good morning”.”

“Your partner sounds old.” you said with a snort.

“He is middle aged.”

When had this guy gotten so close? He was practically standing next to you now like you’d come in together, eyes flicking occasionally between you and the menu.

Cute, but weird. You decided, turning back to the barista. You opened your mouth to order and then clicked it shut, fixing the Hipster with a knowing glare.

“Eavesdropping?”

“Excuse me?”

“Value judgement.” you said, voice assured. You turned to the barista and grinned, “One black coffee please.”

You shot him a triumphant look, but the man just continued smiling politely.

“Have your concerns of pyrosis been elevated, ---?” he said, forgetting almost that you’d told him your name.

“I’ll suffer if it means I win.” you replied, taking the cup and moving to fill it with black coffee with a look of disdain.

He gave a peculiar look at that, as if registering some kind of understanding.

“Your mission to prevent me from learning your drink preference takes priority.”

“Damn straight.” you said, sipping the bitter liquid and trying to tell yourself it tasted like VICTORY and not like your stomach was about to be wrecked.

Before you could speak, the door rattled as someone forced it open, waltzing into the shop with determination.

“CONNOR-- how long does it fuckin’ take to get one coffee?”

Connor looked unfazed, turning his attention to the man you recognized as the guy who waited in the car last time.

“Lieutenant Anderson, I have acquired the coffee and was just on my way to join you. However, I stopped to engage in social intercourse, as you’ve encouraged.”

“Social WHAT--” the Lieutenant’s eyes settled on you and he humphed, “Oh. You were talkin’ to a girl. Jesus fuck, how’d that work for ya?”

His question seemed directed at Connor, but he looked at you the entire time, mystified. Or at least what you gathered was mystified beneath the permanent scowl.

“It is going very well!” Connor said, allowing the man to take his coffee.

“Ah ha!” you suddenly exclaimed, jabbing a finger towards the lieutenant and turning to Connor for validation, “Fifty and grouchy! Yeah?”

The look Anderson gave you was as annoyed and baffled now as he gave Connor.

“Okay, if you’re done with your social fuckin’, can we please get to the office? Before I start collecting social security?”

You choked, snorting a bit of coffee.

“In a moment, lieutenant.” Connor said cooly.

With a few grumbled protests, the lieutenant left the shop and headed back outside, leaning against the side of the car and shooting glares at Connor through the glass.

“Lieutenant Hank Anderson is my partner. I apologize, he can be abrasive.”

“Uh huh. So if the black coffee is for him, then please tell me you have a super secret love of pumpkin spice. C’mon, it’ll make my morning.”

“Like the last time we spoke?” Connor inquired, inclining his head.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Then certainly.”

“Well now I know you’re lying.” you laughed, all feelings of sleepiness gone as you beamed up at this Connor. There was something so curious yet so gentle in the way he looked back at you, as if you were a puzzle, but a pleasingly difficult puzzle.

It made you feel a bit awkward now that you noted it, clearing your throat as you swapped the coffee between your mittened hands.

“Here.” you finally said, handing him the cup. His eyes widened.

“C’mon, take it. Save me from myself.”

Connor looked like he was about to say something, but confusion turned to understanding. He took the coffee cup.

“... thank you.” he said, with a level of reverence that made her sure he must be kidding.

“Eh, just consider it me pouring one out for “our boys in blue”.”

His eyes flicked to yours, as if trying to pry some answer to an unspoken question.

“Ya know-- cause you’re both cops, right?”

“Y..yes. Right.” Connor slowly smiled, “Yes we are. Thank you.”

“It’s just a dollar coffee, hippy.” you said, but still smiled. What the hell had gotten into you? Your damn face hurt from all the smiles you were giving this guy.

“Have a safe patrol.” you said finally, hurrying away before you did something else clearly awkward and embarrassing.

“---?” the sound of your name halted you.

“Yeah?”

“I ...enjoy talking with you. Perhaps we can converse more.”

Fuck. Fuck, oh shit. Oh god, handsome funny hippy boy wanted to talk to you? You?? More??? When was the last time something like this happened to you? Oh right, NEVER.

You stammered, mixing between trying to seem aloof and actually being flustered and managing to just be alooflustered. Which looked ridiculous.

“Um.. okay. Okay! Just uh--” you took a pen from the nearby drink pick-up counter and popped the cap off with your teeth. You gestured for his cup, which he handed over, and wrote your number across the white surface along with your name.

“There.”

He turned the cup, saw what you’d written and grinned, a bright all consuming thing that seemed both foreign and so fucking adorable on his lips.

“Lieutenant Anderson will be thrilled.” he said and you barked a laugh.

“Yeah well, better hurry and go show him before he leaves you.”

Connor nodded gravely, as if this were a truly high possibility he was just reminded of.

“Talk to you later, Connor.”

“Yes. “Talk to you later”.”

He left, hurrying to the car. You watched Hank’s rested-annoyed-face twist with confusion, pointing to the cup in Connor’s hand, to which Connor proudly displayed what must have been your number. The man’s jaw nearly hit the snow covered ground, quickly ushering Connor into the car with his mouth moving rapidly.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, “God. What a dork…”

You were so engrossed you barely heard when the barista, eyes nearly rolling out of their head said,

“Hey lady, are you gonna get anything!?”

#dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh connor x f!reader #detroit become human #detroit become human fanfic #detroit become human fanfiction #dbh fanfic #dbh fanfiction #i made you awkward and not a cop #you a grad student #hence why you are fueled on coffee and sarcasm #the ostensive fumblings of being human

119 notes · View notes

missluthorwillseeyounow · 4 years

Text

I want a season 6 scene where Kara and Lena are still fumbling their way back to friendship -- gazes meeting and flicking away after a moment too long, empty spaces where they use to embrace and instead Kara's fingers just twitch spasmodically and Lena just rubs her arm in a poor imitation of Kara's hugs.

Lena designs and installs a telescope at the tower, compact enough to be discreet but powerful enough to filter through the light activity in National City at night. It's to help monitor extraterrestrial activity -- any refugee ships that might arrive, any signs of distress from nearby planets, etc.

Lena maintains the instrument with almost obsessive precision, and she's often there at night, monitoring the skies. When Kara's not out doing patrol, she joins her. Some nights, they work together quietly - watching the other out of the corner of their eyes, gazes flicking away with shy smiles, just relearning how to exist comfortably, intimately in the same space in a way they haven't in a while.

Some nights, Kara will listen about whichever celestial body Lena is observing and offer up her knowledge about it. Planets she'd been to with her father, stars she'd seen from behind the glass of her pod.

As she listens, Lena looks away, ostensibly to check her notes, but there's something a tad too careful, too avoidant in the way she does it that makes Kara ask what's wrong.

It takes a while before Lena speaks, but Kara waits. When she does, Lena's voice is quiet, tinged with sadness.

"....There's so much I don't know about you."

The way she says it makes Kara freeze, not in alarm or panic, but in a cold realization. She wants to insist that Lena knows the important parts, the parts of her that matter -- but does she really?

Kara had shown Lena the human side of her, and while that part of her is who she is now, these other things, these million other minutiae are part of what made her. They're woven into the fabric of her being -- and she'd hidden them from Lena.

One could argue that she doesn't owe anyone these parts of her - some of these are things she hasn't even told Alex - but looking at Lena now, her head bowed, her fingers still on top of her notepad, unaware that they hold Kara's heart in them.....

"Can I tell you?"

Her hands slip over Lena's, and her grip is delicate and a little frightened. Lena looks at their joined hands for a moment, then she looks up at Kara, who looks back at her with her heart in her eyes.

Then Lena nods, and Kara feels her world right itself again.

#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #katie mcgrath #melissa benoist #i clearly know nothing about telescopes

159 notes · View notes

the-pallid-king · 3 years

Note

He sits up straighter. “That’s it. That’s the feeling.” You said it perfectly. That’s why this feels so weird. It’s also probably how they’ve ended up run out of their apartment by a band of humans and one ostensively metrosexual Mod Soul. “He rearranged the furniture.” He's not sure if you noticed that. Though, to be fair, Kon didn’t see it before it was removed.

He blinks. “I guess I’d go get more.” He can’t actually imagine you stealing all his food, you spent so long turning your nose up at it. But he supposes even if it was amusing at first, he’d probably start getting kind of territorial. Him and his dad used to brawl over seconds. But… it’s you. And he likes you a lot. And you shared your food with him even though you’re perpetually hungrier than he is, so he might be able to get over it. “It’s fine. You can have as much as you want.”

He sighs, coming clean at the first sign of scrutiny, because you don’t take surprises well. It’s better to warn you. “Unless Kon thinks to tell them to leave the blankets, they’ll probably all end up in the garbage. And I’m not sleeping with garbage blankets, Shiro. I have some standards.” But he’s also worried you’ll try to rescue your blankets, and the ensuing panic of floating bedding might send the workers flying out the door.

He huffs a small laugh when you agree. He'd like the feeling to be over now, but almost entirely because that will happen when everyone leaves, so he doesn't say it because you already know his opinions on that. He arches his brows a bit. "He did?" No, he'd been too busy trying to take in what was happening without being a hollow about it to notice. Maybe it's good you ran into Kon and not him. He's not sure if this is good first impressions or bad. Or kind of both.

A slight smile breaks through his otherwise not exactly amused expression, tilting one corner of his mouth. He doesn't really find it surprising that you're so willing to share your food with him, but it's still kind of a big deal, at least in his book. "You should be careful offerin' that."

He forgets about trying to eat your food for you when you bring his blankets into all this. As if all those people being in their home and touching their things wasn't bad enough. He shoots to his feet, but your food is still in his lap and makes a grab for the container, fumbling it a bit, but he manages to avoid spilling it everywhere. He pushes it into your hands as he turns for the balcony doors.

#ask #ichxgo

1 note · View note

rhaenyratargeryn · 3 years

Text

Tagged by @binaryeclipse

How many works do you have on ao3?: I have two accounts— because I have two longish fics on hiatus on one and I felt guilty posting other things djsjxjsjs. So in total 14!

What’s your total ao3 word count?: 169,751

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?: Agent Carter, Fallout: New Vegas, Detroit: Become Human, Cyberpunk 2077, Destiny 2, Loki series and The Wayhaven Chronicles.

What are your top fics by kudos?:

1. Continuously, Without Interruption (pwp) (CP2077)

2. The Ostensive Fumblings of Being Human (DBH)

3. Honey, I’m not much of a dancer. (but for you I’ll try) (Agent Carter)

4. Exit Wounds (CP2077)

5. A concession (Loki series)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?: yes I do respond to comments even just to say thank you!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?: no angst ending only happy unless you count the ones people are waiting for me to update

Do you write crossovers?: nope!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?: no, I did get some very critical comments on a chapter of my DBH fic which ended in me pulling and rewriting the chapter… the story was better for it but that shit HURTED.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?: mostly of the pwp with feelings variety. I don’t get very kinky and if I can’t visualize the characters being intimate I just??? Cant write it. Sometimes I write indulgent and very explicit porny fics and sometimes it is very emotional and less slutty LOL. Ive written a TON of porn for the Obey Me fandom on @belpheroo

Have you ever had a fic translated?: yes! Someone translated Cont., Without Interruption into Russian and I think someone started working on translating my DBH fic but have not seen it posted.

What’s your all time favorite ship?: currently it is darklina, which I have never even written for. I also enjoy reylo and ATTEMPTED a fic and ultimately gave it up. I’m a huge fan of interactive fiction and x reader fic so— my fav ship is my self insert with my fav character?! LOL

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?: My agent Carter fic… I just can’t get back into that mindset. I’m worried my last chapter of my DBH fic will go the same way.

What are you writing strengths?: I’ve been told portraying romantic and platonic banter/chemistry and that I’m good at invoking all the senses in scenes. Makes them feel tactile in the readers mind.

What are your writing weaknesses?: 🙃 finishing. I always have the ending preplanned and everything follows a flow and an outline and then I start daydreaming my next project and move on before things are done.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in your fics?: I don’t do it very often or I cop out by italicizing the words and saying what language they are speaking. I included some Japanese in one of my CP2077 fics but it was like— one word sentences.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?: on ao3 it was dragon age 2. That fic has since been orphaned!

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?: ehhh I’m not sure. I like a lot of my TWC fics especially the one titled “Sense”. My DBH fic holds a special place because I spent so much time on it.

Tagging: UHHHH idk who all has an ao3 account in my mutuals?! CONSIDER YOURSELF TAGGED— feel free to @ me as your tagger so I can read your answers!

#tag meme #tag game #ao3 tag game #pls be mindful of tags and ratings on the fics I linked

1 note · View note

rocket-remmy · 4 years

Text

Dead Weight || Morgan and Remmy

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: Remmy comes to see Lydia. CONTENT: Domestic abuse mention

Staying at the clinic wasn’t really viable after a spriggan healing up from a pickpocket scheme gone wrong kept referring to Morgan as Deirdre’s pet bottom feeder, so by the time evening fell, they were both installed back in their house on the East End. Deirdre was asleep, or trying to relive some memory by staring at the wall, Morgan couldn’t tell which. But Deirdre wasn’t cognizant enough to hold a five minute conversation, so bringing her down for Remmy’s visit seemed like a bad idea. Morgan was worried about bringing the ashes down with her as it was.

Staring at the vase, Morgan couldn’t help but wonder if this had been made by one of her captives. And what about the art restoration? The rest of her work? The good Lydia had done was as real as anything, but what was left? It felt like with each conversation she had, more of it crumbled away. She’d had this whole elaborate life, so elaborate Morgan didn’t even know half of it existed, and yet what remained felt like no more than the ash in this stupid, creepy vase.

She recognized Remmy’s quiet knock at once, but her limbs moved clumsily to the door. She fumbled with the lock, even though she’d turned it with just a flick of her wrist hundreds of times before. “Hey,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry, from before.” I just keep fucking up with you, don’t I? “Come in, I put her vase in the Great Room.”

Lydia was dead. Lydia, who apparently kidnapped people and held them hostage and abused them. Lydia, who fed off humans and called them cattle and barely batted an eye at their pain. And Lydia, who was soft and gentle when Remmy needed someone most. Lydia, who had come to love them even though they were a zombie and she was a fae. Lydia, who had sold out her own species’ secrets to save them, who had let them kill another fae, and never loved them less for it. Lydia, who was so horribly good to Remmy, that the pain of her truth still tore at their unbeating heart every second of every day. They had decided, when they’d left, that they needed to stand their ground with her. They needed to figure themself out, first, before coming back to try and work something out with her. But now...she was gone. That eternity that they were supposed to have was cut short. And now, not only did Remmy have to decide how to confront the reality of their own immortality, but the reality that now they had to live that length with their decision. With the last words they’d ever said to Lydia being that they would never forgive her. They were written in digital stone and no amount of crying would ever erase them.

Morgan’s door was oddly painful to look at. Remmy screwed up their face in any attempt to seem put together before knocking, but found it wholly unsuccessful, folding the second they saw Morgan’s face appear behind the door. “Vase?” was all they managed to say, following her in. They meandered in the direction that she pointed, turning the corner and-- stopping. It was just a heart shaped vase. Whatever was left of her was inside of that, and...that was it. That was all that was left of Lydia. After everything she’d done and everything she’d been, this was all she was now. Remmy didn’t move. “That’s...it?” they croaked, eyes glued to the vase, even as their voice searched for Morgan or an answer or something. “That’s all?”

Morgan held herself steady as she lead Remmy through the house. They knew the way as well as she did after staying for so many weeks, but the familiarity between them was strained. The last thing she’d done with them before Lydia died was send them away. She couldn’t shoulder their disappointment, their betrayal, while waiting for them to walk away from her instead. She liked her losses to be clear and solid. But watching Remmy’s heart break snapped the distance shut, a rubber band falling back into shape. Remmy was the only one who could feel Lydia’s death the way she did. Remmy saw her in that basement. Remmy knew how cruelly apathetic she’d been to Chloe. And Remmy knew how even Lydia’s laugh sounded sophisticated, and the glow of her smile, and how patient she could be even when she was irritated, how...absurdly, horrifically wonderful. Morgan slid into their side and gripped their hand. “She was trying to leave town,” she murmured, her voice already falling apart. “I haven’t asked Deirdre for the specifics but I heard...she called us right before, maybe even right as it was happening and I heard…” Screaming. Broken, anguished screaming she would give anything to un-know. Lydia didn’t beg or sob like that when she was herself. She was articulate and proud, a masterpiece in an exhibition. Even when it was just the two of them, she’d tried to hold herself up for Morgan and Morgan let her. She couldn’t think of that pride now without hearing the shrill, keening sound of her death crackling over the phone. “It was awful, Remmy. I don’t know how they did it, but it was awful and this was how we found her…”

Remmy stood still in the doorway, unable to cross the threshold. They didn’t want to know how horrible Lydia’s death had been because it made their heartache and they didn’t want it to. Lydia was ostensibly a bad person, but that didn’t mean she was irredeemable, right? She’d hurt so many people, she didn’t deserve forgiveness, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have changed or gotten better or something. But someone else had decided she wasn’t worth it. Again, someone had taken away another person’s choice. Again, someone had stolen a life from the world because they believed their actions were justified. Because they believed death was the only answer. Remmy squeezed Morgan’s hand so tight the bones bent. “Why is this place so violent?” they asked, not sure who they were speaking to anymore. They supposed Morgan, considering she was the only other one in the room. A space filled with three dead souls but only two still standing. “Why is it always death?”

Morgan squeezed Remmy back, just as hard. “It’s the whole world, Remmy. It’s everything we can’t escape. We break things and we lose things and everywhere you turn it’s life or death. That’s the rules for people like us.” She swallowed thickly, looking at the vase again. It was almost the same color as Lydia’s ashes. However they’d been made, they’d been burned so fine, almost perfect. “I know I...you and I are different. I know that. And for me, maybe if it had just been a fight, maybe if some hunter had found out how she was and decided to stop her and she’d gone down fighting him over it, it wouldn’t feel so…” Wrong. Morgan shook her head, cringing as the memory of Lydia’s pain echoed in her ears again. “We stayed on the phone until the battery gave out. It was awful, she was hurt so bad you could hear it. It wasn’t a fight, and I think I hate that the most. In a fucking back alley. She was leaving town…” But Morgan could feel her excuses and her fear choking her. She hated the pain she wasn’t able to unhear. She hated how imbalanced it seemed, everything Lydia was reduced to trash. But even if Kaden had killed her himself, if he had shot her and made it quick. “I miss her,” Morgan whispered. “I hate her and I love her and I miss her, Remmy. I think I was going to feel that no matter what. Is that bad?”

All Remmy could do was listen. The words fell out of their head like water. There was nothing solid there to hold onto. Nothing made any of this better. Lydia was bad, but she hadn’t deserved to suffer like that. No one did. There was always so much suffering, so much pain. It was just a cycle that kept going and going and going and Remmy was drowning in it. They let go of Morgan’s hand and finally walked forward, with purpose, kneeling at the table and reaching out to touch the vase. They thought maybe it would feel warm, somehow, warm and comforting, like Lydia’s arms always had been. But it was cold. Cold and grainy, like how Lydia really was underneath everything else. For all Remmy knew, this could’ve been her heart. Frozen and cold and clay. Their hands wrapped around it tightly as they held it in place, but did not move it. Tears burned in their eyes again. They did not want to cry for her, but knowing how she’d died, screaming and suffering and alone, their heart couldn’t hold back. A small crack appeared in the vase by the palm of their hand and Remmy let go of it as if it were suddenly alight with flame. They dug their palms deep into their eyes, fingers clenching their head, and crumpled forward, sobbing with a horrible grief that tore them apart. They had no words. Just sobs and grief and pain.

Morgan whimpered at the sound of the vase cracking. For a second it felt like Lydia’s body, shattering again. Stars above, she couldn’t bring herself to ask what was done to her, what could make her scream like that. She rushed to Remmy, putting her body between them and the table where Lydia sat. It didn’t feel like rest, looking at her disintegrated beyond recognition. It looked like more punishment. Morgan bundled Remmy in her arms and held them tight, as tight as she ever had. Bone bending, skin puncturing tight. They could take it. They both could. And whatever strain their backs carried, it wasn’t anything compared to what was inside them. “I’m sorry,” Morgan wept. “It should’ve been different…” The killing. The way she’d given Remmy the news. Lydia herself. There wouldn’t even have been something to punish if she had just listened and… “I’m sorry, Remmy. She’s gone and I’m so sorry.” Sorry she didn’t have any answers. Sorry she didn’t have courage to ask for any names from Deirdre’s death vision. Sorry she couldn’t have come up with a better way to get the people out, a way that would’ve left Lydia alive, with hope. “I’m sorry…” There was nothing else to say, nothing else to be, so Morgan held Remmy tighter and cried with them.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: morgan #dead weight #morgan #//short but sweet!#well.....not sweet but u know

10 notes · View notes

i-gwarth · 7 years

Text

The Last Jedi: themes of change, cycles of renewal, and bitching about lore

Spoilers included

Ok, so I was going to give this a bit more time, maybe watch the movie again to see if I caught all the details, but then I started seeing all of these reviews on Youtube from ostensible Star Wars “fans” that just... miss the themes of this motion picture by an enormous margin. So I’m going to tell you what it’s all REALLY about. And you can trust me, because I have a small blog on the internet and write long unwieldy sentences.

Here’s what I’m going to start with: AngryJoe begins his spoiler review by complaining about the death of Leader Snoke. About how he wanted to know about his origins, his powers, his damn rings. Joe asks “where were the lore masters” when this scene was written. And like... I admit I too was curious about Snoke when I first saw TFA. But here’s why I think clinging to that is wrong: as TLJ moved on with its own scenes I realized more and more that Snoke was an utter irrelevance. A red herring, a nebulous and powerful “evil presence” to kickstart the plot.

Nobody important. Film wasn’t about him in any way. And so of course he would die halfway through the film in a way that echoes the deaths of both Palpatine and Darth Maul (as always, the history of the Star Wars galaxy rhymes, and the past is echoed into the future). Just like Palpatine, he dies in the same movie that he makes his first “real” appearance in, at the hands of his own apprentice, whom he had derided and openly mocked in front of someone said apprentice clearly cared about. Hell, he even outright states he cannot be destroyed; if that’s not a dead giveaway I don’t know what is. We find out just as much about the Supreme Leader in TLJ as we did about the Emperor in ROTJ. Which is to say, no more than we need.

Again, this story was never about Snoke. He was a literal relic, physically and metaphorically left over from the old days. The new trilogy is about a new generation of heroes and villains inheriting things from the old guard and fumbling and making their own mistakes as they become independent and try to understand their role in this next chapter of history.

Rey’s parentage reveal is another thing that bothers a lot of people, who are more preoccupied with lore and the mechanical intricacies of a fantasy space opera than with the characters the entire story is built around. Of course Rey is a nobody, daughter of drunkards on Jakku. She’s not a Skywalker or a Kenobi or whatever. Because, again, this trilogy is about releasing yourself from the past. Kylo Ren sees this as “killing the past”: first his parents, Han and Leia, then his mentors, Snoke and Luke. Rey, on the other hand, interprets that same concept differently: she realizes that her origins, as the nothing daughter or nobodies on a nowhere planet, doesn’t stop her from becoming a fucking Jedi hero.

Hell, even fucking Yoda, the series-long stand-in for tradition, dogma and the ancient Jedi ways, understands this metanarrative need for change and renewal that both the franchise itself and the long-held philosophies within it sorely need. Rey doesn’t really need Luke’s teachings, inherited from generations of previous Jedi masters, just like Luke didn’t really need Yoda’s teachings that much. Both Luke and Rey took only the barest understanding of Jedi-ism with them into the confrontation with their respective masked men and their masters.

Here’s the thing though: it could be argued that this cycle of breaking off from the past has taken place once before, but was incomplete. Luke did learn some stuff from Yoda, like a loathing of the dark side, and attempted to pass that flawed knowledge on to a new generation with disastrous results. The renewal wasn’t complete, and the result was failure. The very fear and mistrust of someone powerful falling to the dark that Yoda and Obi-wan instilled into him is what led to the destruction of his new Order. However, Rey has the opportunity to take the cycle to a more positive conclusion: she has with her the ancient texts of the Jedi, but not the old Jedi interpretation of them. Luke never did pass that on to her, and indeed he realized why those ways of thinking had failed. I fully expect Rey to be able to create a truly new Jedi Order, based on a fresh spin on the old wisdom, making Luke Skywalker both The Last of the Jedi and, paradoxically, not.

If I may be allowed a dip into philosophy here, the old Jedi always had a problem with darkness and passion. Yoda relentlessly preaches about their dangers, and Luke is horrified when Rey doesn’t even hesitate to throw herself into the pit in her vision. In my opinion, this is a flagrant rejection of human nature, of the understanding that people can’t just be beings of pure light or pure darkness, and that a balance must be struck between them. Rey is a being of balance. She goes for the dark, sure, but it never corrupts her. Hell, even Kylo is like that, desperately trying to throw himself into the pit for the power it promises, only to never actually be able to go all the way down (and making a fool of himself in his failures). Maybe this will be the basis of the Jedi teachings going forward?

Back to the theme of renewal. Two more things get renewed in TLJ the way I see it: fascism and the rejection of it. It has been said before and it bears repeating: the First Order are the alt-right to the Empire’s Nazis. They’re angry, shithead fascist fanboys. Their convictions are paper-thin and they lack whatever structural cohesion and discipline made the old way work (evil as it was), and as a consequence they start falling apart rapidly as soon as their leader is dead. General Hux’s attempt at following chain-of-succession lasts all of 5 seconds before he backs down from the much more powerful Kylo Ren, like a schoolyard bully who has finally met an even bigger thug. Meanwhile the “Supreme Leader” Kylo Ren is a fucking mess, losing every single crumb of his mind the moment he catches sight of Luke Skywalker, and allows his old master to utterly humiliate him before his entire army.

The Resistance, meanwhile, goes back to the roots of... well, resistance. The old Rebel Alliance was created by rogue senators, stateswomen, financiers and true believers in the democracy of the Old Republic. However, the first thing we were ever told about that democracy, by the Prequel trilogy, is that it had been, for a long time, failing. This is what the scenes on Canto-Bight, who so many lesser reviewers deride as “pointless” and “leading nowhere”, are actually for. They reveal that the New Republic relies on the exact same corrupt power structures as the Empire and the Old Republic before it. The rich man who sold TIE fighters to the First Order also sold X-Wings to the Resistance. That whole segment of the story also reveals that the anti-imperial revolution had failed to protect society’s most vulnerable members. And surely enough, because the cycle of renewal did not complete in this case either, and the New Republic was ashes 30 years after it had started. The Resistance looks set to avoid making the same mistake, by appealing to a different “base”. Instead of nostalgia for an old, flawed power structure, it seems to be centered around support from very poorest members of society, people who have been abused their whole lives by those in power. Floor sweepers on the Starkiller Base. Sisters from mining planets devastated by the First Order. Stable boys in the casino-city Canto Bight. And a random junker girl whose parents had sold her for drink money.

That’s the new foundation. And the renewal seems set to complete itself this time.

Thanks for reading this far. Any comments would be genuinely appreciated.

299 notes · View notes

raendown · 7 years

Link

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3793 Summary: Searching for a brother kidnapped by slavers, Madara certainly never expected to accidentally summon what appears to be a water spirit. And he certainly never expected the spirit to help him.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

To The Sea, To The Sea

Summoning a water entity hadn’t exactly been Madara’s intention. In fact, it hadn’t been at all his intention. What he’d really wanted was to test a locator spell to see if it would work over water. The men who had taken his brother were last seen leaving this port and if he could only see which way they had set off he would have a better guess where to follow.

Getting soaked by the arrival of a sudden water spirit – or what he assumed to be a sprit – was not on the list of things he had expected that particular spell to accomplish. Madara couldn’t seem to move from where he was kneeling on the edge of the quay, stunned into immobilization by the figure floating in the water before him. If he was reading the being’s expression properly, the one he had accidentally summoned was just as surprised to be here as Madara was to see him. At least, that was what he assumed from the wide eyes, slightly cocked head, and full lips just barely parted in disbelief.

He looked like a man, if men’s hands and feet were meant to be covered in silvery scales. His flesh was so pale it was nearly translucent and the white of his hair was reminiscent of crashing sea foam, pale blue where it met his scalp. His eyes were a brilliant coral red to match the three sharp lines which decorated his face. He wore nothing but what appeared to be strips of blue and red plant life of some sort, woven together in to what resembled a kilt. Madara absently noted that, were he human, he would have been the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth.

“What need have you of the sea?” the creature asked him finally. The pleasant baritone of his voice was nearly enough to distract from the way he seemed to float with no effort on his part to do so. Neither his arms nor his legs moved to tread water yet he stayed perfectly in place, not even bobbing with the waves.

“I didn’t mean to call you, oh spirit.” Madara fumbled about for the right words to say. “I was only looking for a way to find my brother.”

“Has he been taken by the water?”

“By men who crossed the water. Slavers.”

The creature pulled back his lips and hissed, revealing a mouthful of sharp fangs. Madara was fairly sure they were supposed to be frightening, not attractive, and he wondered what was wrong with him that he was more inclined towards the second.

“I shall find you your brother,” the spirit declared. “The sea does not take kindly to those who trail misery in their wake. They are as cruel to my children as they are to yours.”

“You’re going to help me?” Baffled he might be by such a kind act, Madara was hardly the type to refuse such a boon. Any help was good help at this point. He recovered quickly enough to declare his intention to procure a boat and hurried down the quay to do just that.

His spirit followed along besides him in the water, insisting that it would be much faster if they didn’t bother with such clumsy human contraptions. Madara pointed out with a touch of annoyance that he was human himself and therefore needed it. He couldn’t exactly float effortlessly like the other could. The spirit didn’t seem entirely convinced but he also did nothing to impede Madara as he snuck off with the first craft he found that might survive the ocean waters and could also be piloted by one man.

Four days they travelled across the open ocean together, days during which Madara ate fish that the spirit brought to him and drank water that rightfully should not have existed. The first night he had gone to bed after worrying aloud that the single barrel of water on this craft would not last very long. When he awoke the next morning, and every morning after that, the barrel had replenished itself as though by magic. He very carefully neither mentioned this odd happenstance nor wasted even a single drop, not wanting to risk offending the other and having this phenomenon taken away.

Madara had more than just magic water to hold his attention, however. During those four days at sea he learned many things about the water spirit which guided him. He learned that the being’s name was Tobirama and that he was ostensibly as old as the sea itself. The creatures of the sea spoke with him and the waters of the oceans answered his bidding. With but the wave of one hand he created waves to propel Madara’s schooner at speeds that shouldn’t have been possible without a much heavier wind.

No matter how many times he asked, Tobirama refused to say why he was helping Madara to find his brother. It became more and more clear that the summoning had been accidental on both their parts, that Madara’s spell didn’t have the power to call him here and Tobirama had not meant to appear where he did. They were not bound together in any manner yet still the spirit led him onwards. It made little sense but now was not the time to force answers and so he let the matter drop.

On the fourth night Tobirama quieted the waves as they crept up behind a large ship that Madara recognized as the one which had taken his brother captive, the one he’d been following for two weeks now. He stood on the bow of his schooner and glared up at the black sails above him, vowing that if his brother did not still live, every pirate on board that ship would lose their lives as well.

“Do we go to war?” Tobirama asked him in a solemn voice. Madara blinked, startled out of his blood-thirsty reverie.

“What would a water spirit know of war?” he asked. In answer he received a grin full of sharp teeth.

Getting on board the ship was easy. A swell of water rose at a twitch of Tobirama’s finger and deposited them on the deck, out of sight of whatever watch had been set up. For a being of water Tobirama was incredibly graceful as he walked, the whole of his body rolling like the seas that made his home. Strangely, he did not drip.

They crept through the quiet darkness of the ship’s underbelly until at last they came to the lowest floor where each footstep sloshed through several inches of waste and brine. Bodies filled the room, each of them chained to the wall and to each other, and several heads turned at the sound of their approach, flinching as though expecting some sort of blow or attack. Madara passed them by and continued to examine faces in search of his brother. Oddly, though they had never met before, if was Tobirama who spotted him first.

“Izuna of the line Uchiha,” Tobirama’s musical voice rang throughout the underdeck. “We have come for you.”

“Who the fuck–”

“Brother!” The moment he heard his brother’s voice Madara hurried forward to greet the younger man. Izuna gaped at him, standing next to such an otherworldly looking creature without even blinking an eye, both of them seeming to appear as though from nowhere in the middle of the night.

“How did you get here?” Izuna demanded. Madara shook his head.

“Explanations later. We have to get you out of here.”

He reached down to pick the lock on the manacle around his brother’s ankle, stopping when he was down on one knee as a voice spoke up from across the room.

“And what about the rest of us, eh?”

“Yeah, you can’t just leave us here!”

Madara looked around helplessly. There was only so much room on his schooner; he could hardly fit them all on there. He wanted to, of course. Leaving any of them to the hands of slavers was terrible. But he had come for his brother and he wasn’t about to let any of these people stop him from freeing his sibling, even if it meant he had to abandon every last one of them to their fate.

Before any fights could start, however, the decision was taken out of his hands. A hand landed on his shoulder and Madara looked up to see Tobirama grinning down at him with too many teeth again, each of them sharply pointed. In his peripheral vision he could see the way others in the room drew back from the intimidating figure as best they could but Madara found himself full of a strange desire to get closer to that grin.

“Remain here. None above deserve to continue travelling my seas. All will be freed.”

Without waiting for an answer, Tobirama turned and walked away. His footsteps did not slosh the way Madara’s had and a quick glance downward revealed that it was because he was somehow walking along the surface of the water rather than through it. Swallowing thickly, Madara turned back to the manacles on his brother’s leg and hoped no one else had noticed.

Four minutes later when the screams began, it was hard to hope no one noticed those.

Tobirama’s weapon of choice wasn’t hard to guess, even without the sound of crashing waves or the water dripping down through the planks above their heads. Thick streams sloshed down the stairway to the lowers levels. When the only lamp in the room swayed over in that direction they could plainly see the stains of red which clouded the water and those who could stumbled away from it.

Under the slightly panicked eyes of his now freed brother, Madara stood up and tossed the pin he’d used to a woman crouched nearby. She caught it with a feverish grin and set to work on her own chains as Izuna kicked out of his.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on now?” The young man demanded. “What is that…thing? He isn’t human, that’s for sure!” Madara scowled.

“He’s a water spirit, to my knowledge, and it was only thanks to his help that I was able to find you so quit complaining.”

“What did he ask for in return? Spirits always ask for something in return.”

Madara shifted uncomfortably. Tobirama had not, in fact, asked for anything. He had noticed of course and thought it was odd but at the time he’d been more focused on finding his brother. Any ill that befell him on his journey was more than worth it if he knew Izuna was somewhere safe once more. He had no idea what the spirit would want or why he hadn’t asked for something yet but that would have to be dealt with when it came.

For now he only shook his head and pulled another small pin out from his jacket to pass around so more of the others could work on their shackles. In the far corner a mother was holding her son, weeping on his shoulder, and Madara was glad that he hadn’t had to leave any of these people behind. He would have done it in an instant, he could freely admit that, but he was certain he would have heard their cries in his nightmares for years afterward.

By the time Tobirama returned nearly half the almost-slaves had managed to free themselves and Izuna had filled his big brother in on what their journey had been like. Madara was in the middle of promising him a large meal of whatever food he wished when the frightened gasps drew his attention to the stairway.

Somewhere along the line Tobirama appeared to have picked up a torch of his own, carrying it with delicate fingers far away from his body. The light of it illuminated his otherworldly features for all to see, the sharp teeth, the too-white flesh and dual-toned hair, the silvery scales that covered his hands and feet. As the initial shock of him passed, Madara also noticed some of the others eyeing the kilt of seaweed that only barely covered certain interesting bits, leaving perfectly sculpted thighs on display.

He said nothing as he paced across the water swirling around their ankles to come to a stop at Madara’s side, looking utterly pleased with himself. Although it wasn’t really necessary at this point, Izuna evidently felt compelled to ask, “Are they all, er, dead?”

“None survived, Izuna of the line Uchiha.”

“Please stop saying my name like that…”

“The sea belongs to those who would treat her kindly.”

Raising his eyebrows up so high they threatened to merge with his hairline, Izuna turned to give his brother a look that questioned his sanity. Madara bristled. Alright, so Tobirama was a bit weird. He was a spirit, one could hardly expect him to behave by human standards. Not to mention, he had helped hadn’t he? Without him Madara may never have been able to find his brother and he very well may have been sold in to slavery.

“Your help has been invaluable,” Madara told the water spirit pointedly, giving his little brother a look of his own. Being rude at this point would help neither of them. Tobirama’s expression turned smug, as though he knew something that Madara did not, but made no reply.

As it turned out, several of the people taken captive had been sailors on other ships that this one had taken over, just enough to crew the vessel to the closest friendly port. The younger ones stayed below until the adults could clear the deck and hallways of all the dead bodies lying about, some drowned, some crushed, some impaled upon whatever sharp objects they had been crashed in to. Tobirama did not assist with the cleanup and not a single person had the courage to ask him to. He stood on the bow and looked out over the ink black waters, face turned unerringly towards the north as he described in a strangely convoluted way to an adolescent girl how to navigate only by the stars.

With his stolen schooner having drifted off, Madara had no choice but to stay with the rest of them for the next few days at sea. He could not explain, however, why Tobirama chose to stay with them as well. As far as he could tell the spirit did not sleep and he spent his days watching over the endless waves, never venturing below unless Madara asked him to come look at something. No mention was ever made of leaving and Madara refrained from bringing up the topic.

Oddly – or perhaps not so oddly – he dreaded the time when they would part ways. It wasn’t every day that a man received the help of the Other Folk, after all, although in the privacy of his own thoughts he was honest enough to admit that he had other reasons for not wanting Tobirama to go. Each moment they spent together was filled with a magnetic kind of pull. He found everything about the spirit fascinating, from his looks to the way his mind worked, from the sound of his voice to the incredible tales he had to tell. Madara found himself wishing the other were human more often than was likely proper – and for reasons that were definitely improper.

Five days after being reunited with his brother their designated lookout spotted land. Madara stared out at the smudge slowly appearing on the horizon and felt something heavy settled in his chest. It seemed their time together had too soon come to an end.

“You are not happy to see land approach,” Tobirama noted, appearing soundlessly at his side. Madara shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m grateful for all that you’ve done for me,” he murmured. “I’m just…a little disappointed that I could not spend more time in your company.”

“Have you a reason you cannot spend more time in my company?” Honestly, the mischievous tone of his voice really should have sent up some red flags. Madara’s only excuse was that he was too distracted to notice.

“You’re a spirit of the sea. Land isn’t where you belong.”

“Are you saying I am less adaptable than a human? Humans could not live among the sea until you built such creations as the one upon which you stand.”

Madara brightened momentarily at the thought of Tobirama coming ashore, then the brightness faded as quickly as it had come. “But you couldn’t stay.”

“Do you wish for me to stay at your side, Madara?”

The simple use of his name, so informal compared to the way the spirit addressed any other person, sent shivers down his spine. It was that which gave him the courage to look up at the being next to him and give an honest answer.

“Yes.”

“And if it is not possible for me to stay at your side upon the land would you be agreeable to living among the sea to be at mine?”

“I…” Madara swallowed thickly. “Yes. I’d sail the sea from end to end if you would promise to visit sometimes.” He blinked in surprise when Tobirama laughed softly.

“You misunderstand me. I do not ask you to sail the sea but to live among her as I do.”

Madara frowned. “You do know that humans can’t breathe underwater, right? That’s why we built boats in the first place.”

When Tobirama took a step closer to him, so close he could feel a surprising amount of heat coming off the other’s body, his breath caught in his throat and his heart began to pound. Madara didn’t dare to move as a silvery hand came up to caress his cheek, surprising him with the softness of the scales that decorated those thin fingers.

“Has it not come to you yet?” Tobirama asked him in a quiet voice. “Would a simple incantation such as the one you attempted have summoned a being of the Other Folk? It would not. I was curious to know who was using such powers within my waters and came to investigate – and when I saw you I knew that I could not allow you from my sight so soon.”

“What are you?” Madara whispered.

“I am the sea.”

Gaping, trying hard to wrap his mind around that, Madara blurted, “Like a god?”

“I believe that is the human term for my status, yes. You would perhaps call me the god of the sea.”

“Oh holy crap…holy crap…I…wow.”

“I am the sea, Madara, and if I wish you to have the ability to breathe within the waters as I do then the power is mine to grant you that. So I ask again: will you stay at my side? There are many things that are mine to give; long life, riches beyond your wildest imagining, powers of which you have only dreamed. All of them I would give to you.”

Finally drawing one good, deep breath, Madara asked the only question that mattered to him. “Would I still be able to visit my brother?” In return he was graced with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

“Your love of family speaks well of you and I would not dream of asking you to sacrifice that which you have worked so diligently to protect. Of course you shall see you brother again, as often as you wish.”

“So…you helped me and the only thing you ask in return is for me to live in the sea for the rest of eternity?” Giddy with feelings he could barely describe, Madara grinned wildly even as he leaned forward and crossed that tiny distance between them, pressing his body against Tobirama’s. “Maybe Izuna was right about you; you are after my soul.”

“Is that a yes?” Tobirama asked him, raising one eyebrow. The smirk forming on his lips said he already knew the answer.

“Oh yes,” Madara breathed, tilting his head up.

The god before him wasted no time bending down to capture his mouth in a kiss. Probably not a lot of people could say that they had kissed a god and Madara wondered instantly if it was because none of them had survived the experience. His heart was surely about to beat out of his chest, his lungs collapse from lack of breathing, his brain implode from the inability to process the incredible sensations rippling through him. His entire body tingled from head to toe and there was the strangest sensation of heat crawling down his throat.

When they pulled apart Madara was panting and only Tobirama’s arms around his waist kept him on his feet, knees weak and legs shaking. He opened his mouth to say something and then stopped when the other shook his head sharply.

“Let the magic settle first.” At Madara’s panicked expression he only chuckled. “You wanted to be able to breathe under the waters and now you shall do so.” It took a few minutes for the heat in his throat to fade and he hummed a few times experimentally before speaking again.

“I don’t feel any different.”

“Nor do I and yet I have been changed by our meeting in many ways. From the moment I saw you I was changed.”

“Are you always going to be this sappy?” Madara grumbled, not displeased in the slightest but embarrassed by such open affection.

Tobirama hummed, not answering either way, and pulled him up for another kiss that rattled his knees once more.

Later he would have to find a way to tell Izuna of his decision. He would need to find his brother a way home as well and of course he had every intention of accompanying him on that journey. If he had eternity at Tobirama’s side to look forward to then the god of the sea could be patiently for a couple more weeks. After that he would need to find a way to say goodbye to the very few friends he had made back home. He wasn’t close enough to any of them to make him regret his decision but they did deserved a farewell, he supposed.

All of that, however, could wait at least until they made port. Which wouldn’t be hours yet, thereby leaving them with plenty of time to bask in the beginning of the rest of their lives. Madara grinned as he took hold of Tobirama’s arms and gently began to pull him back towards the cabins. A little privacy never hurt anyone and after spending the last week watching Tobirama prance about in nothing but a tiny kilt he was more than eager to see where else kissing might lead them.

Probably somewhere wonderful.

#i don't even know with this one #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #izuna #fanfiction #naruto shippuden

24 notes · View notes

shannaraisles · 7 years

Text

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 71/74 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: Canon-typical violence Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

The End?

"On aching branch do blossoms grow, the wind a hallowed breath ..."

Candlelight flickered in the warm breeze off the plateau, illuminating the private little glade just outside Skyhold. The snow was gone as summer advanced, the nights grown warm enough to venture out without a cloak or gloves, and finally, the Inquisitor was making his move.

"... it carries the scent of honeysuckle, sweet as the lover's kiss ..."

All right, so the recitation was a little overdone, but Kaaras was nervous. Who could blame him? He was paying court to a woman who could probably snap his other horn off with one hand if angered enough. But Cassandra didn't look angry. Even from here, she looked ... stunned, surprised. Deeply touched at the effort he had gone to. Rory hoped she was remembering that promise she had made the healer; to at least think about letting the big Qunari love her the way she longed to be loved.

"What's happening?" Josephine hissed in a hoarse whisper.

"She hit him," Varric answered in a low tone.

"What?"

"Gently," Rory corrected the dwarf. "She looks ... quite pleased, really."

The three of them were hiding behind a stand of hawthorn trees, ostensibly gathering elfroot, but actually spying on the romance in progress. They'd all been deeply involved in getting Kaaras and Cassandra to this point - Josephine with gathering the various things he would need; Varric to train him to recite the poem he'd chosen in a way that didn't immediately suggest he didn't understand a word of it; and Rory to keep the nerves from sabotaging the Qunari Inquisitor's romantic aspirations entirely. They felt they'd earned the right to a little spying, just to make sure everything went smoothly.

"... it brings the promise of more tomorrows, of sighs, and whispered bliss ..."

"Is he doing it right?" Josephine whispered again, craning around Rory's back to try and see without being seen.

"Well, he's on one knee now," Varric told her, leaning surprisingly comfortably against the tree trunk. "I never told him to do that."

"No, I did," Josephine told him, her voice thrumming with excitement. "Oh, it's so romantic!"

"Warm and calm, the softness smooths the sharp edges, passion and hope and laughter in her heart."

The unexpected voice made all three of them jump violently, looking around wildly to try and locate Cole. They found him, eventually, sitting in the tree above them, a contented little smile on his face.

"He feels like home to her," he murmured happily. "Strong and protective, like Anthony but better. He chose to love her, and she chooses to love him."

"Love?" Rory felt Josephine melt against her back, heard the ambassador sniffle into her handkerchief. "Oh ... the Lady Seeker loves him."

"Of course she does," Varric grumbled. "She'd have punched him by now if she didn't."

Rory nudged his back, grinning at the look on his face. "Admit it, you were so wrong about this," she teased her dwarven friend.

"Cassandra's made of iron," he protested quietly. "How was I supposed to know she knows how to bend?"

"Not iron," Cole argued in his soft way. "Delicate petals, red as blood and bleeding, wrapped in a fist of steel that protects. His smile opens the fingers, his love heals the wounds. The petals are turning white again."

"... his eyes reflect the heaven's stars, the Maker's light ..."

Josephine's head swung around, snapping back toward the lovers in the glade, her eyes wide above a rounded mouth. That was Cassandra's voice. Together, Rory and Josephine peered around the trees once again, trying to get a good look at what was going on there. Kaaras had given the book to Cassandra, was circling her warily as she read aloud, but there was a softness about both of them that hadn't been there before. Josephine's hand gripped Rory's fingers, squeezing tight as the Antivan woman tried to hold in a squeal of delight at the way Kaaras leaned in close to the Seeker and wasn't rebuffed at all.

"Andraste's knickers ..."

Varric's low chuckle was abruptly cut off as Rory's hand clamped around his mouth, four pairs of eyes glued to the suddenly arresting sight of Lady Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand of the Divine, throwing her arms around Inquisitor Adaar's neck and dragging him down to the blanket laid out on the ground, all passion and heat and loving warmth. Allowing herself to be a woman in love, and not just a weapon to be wielded.

There was silence for a long moment, then ...

"Why is he tickling her there?" Cole asked curiously. "She likes it, but it doesn't make her laugh. It makes her -"

"Okay!"

Remembering suddenly that being a voyeur to the meat of the encounter was not the plan here, Rory straightened up, pulling Varric backwards and out of sight of the fumbling couple beneath the stars. Josephine was giggling into her hands, absolutely delighted with the result of their combined romantic expertise. Rory reached up and gently tugged on Cole's foot.

"Come down now," she told him. "We're going to give them privacy and never mention that we saw anything that happened out here tonight at all. Understand?"

Her eyes flickered between the spirit boy and the dwarf. Varric made a very creditable attempt to look innocent, despite knowing that she wasn't buying it in the slightest. Cole, on the other hand, just looked confused, as he generally did whenever someone told him not to say something he wanted to share because it was a lovely thing and everyone would be happy to know about it. She felt Josephine sober beside her, and watched as Varric's indecent grin faded under the weight of two feminine glares that promised severe punishment if he made a joke or a story out of Cassandra's passion for Kaaras. He sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Fine," he conceded, his tone gruff but his eyes twinkling. It was obvious that he was just as pleased for the two moons-lit canoodlers as anyone, but he wasn't going to admit it out loud. "Not a word. Back to the tavern?"

"Back to work," Josephine corrected, though she sounded a little reluctant. The three of them turned to head back along the narrow path toward the side gate into the fortress, Rory keeping a firm hold on Cole's hand to keep the boy from straying back toward the sensual cloud of extreme happiness they were leaving behind them. "There is so much to do before the Orlesian party arrives."

"They're nobles, Ruffles," Varric pointed out. "You can charm them in your sleep."

"The Dupuis family are highly respected in Orlais," Josephine worried as she fell into step beside him. "If their report to the Emperor is not entirely positive ..."

Rory let the woman's voice fade as she scowled mildly to herself. Oh, yes. The Orlesian delegation from Val Chevin. In one week, she was going to come face to face with the Thedosian version of her parents, without knowing exactly what had happened to make her apparently Orlesian teenaged self run away from them in the first place. She still hadn't managed to bring herself to talk to Cullen about any of it; each time she tried, her throat closed up, the words wouldn't come. She was terrified of this looming encounter.

What made it worse was that her little support network was going to be severely diminished by the time Lord and Lady Dupuis arrived. Rylen and Evy were already gone, sent on ahead with Hawke and Alistair to prepare the scouting camps and confirm the supply chains for when the Keep in the approach was taken. Kaaras would be heading in that direction in a couple of days, taking Varric, Blackwall, and Solas with him; a second party, consisting of Cassandra, Dorian, Sera, and Cole, would be following a day later; and Bull was mobilizing the Chargers to march out as well. Everyone was expecting the territories in the Western Approach to be a hard won fight to the finish, and that was without even suspecting that a siege against a demon-filled fortress was looming in their near future.

Beside her, Cole squeezed her hand. As he became more human, he seemed to empathize with her more easily, though she was still more silent than anyone else he knew. Well, apart from Solas. The elven apostate - Fen'harel, she reminded herself - had somehow deliberately cut himself off from Cole, while still trying to harangue everyone around him into denying the young man the opportunity to integrate more fully into the physical realm he had found himself in. She could understand Solas' viewpoint, knowing what she did of his ultimate plans, but even knowing that, it seemed cruel to try and force Cole to remain a confused spirit in a physical form, tormented at all times by the otherness of everyone else's pain and confusion. He had enough confusion of his own.

"There was pain when she wrote the words," he said quietly, words for her ears alone. "Hope that brings pain like a wound ripped open, fresh blood where she had thought there was none left to come. So much loss, so many regrets, but hope lives in the beating heart that wants forgiveness."

Rory drew in a slow breath, gently wrapping his arm through hers to pat his hand as they walked in the wake of the ambassador and the storyteller. "I don't understand how you know that, but ... I appreciate that you're trying, Cole," she told him carefully. "It is a difficult situation."

"But you aren't alone," he told her in turn. "He watches you, worries for you, sees the lines on your brow when you're hurting and can't speak. He knows some things but does not say them. He's waiting for you to speak."

She blinked, her brows rising in shocked surprise. It didn't take a genius to guess that he was referring to Cullen, but that meant that Cullen knew a lot more about her than she had thought he did. Back to that old guessing game. How much did Thedosian me tell him before Earth me took up residence in this body? And why isn't he talking to me about it? If he'd just give me an opening, I'm sure I could tell him most of this. Most of it, not all. She was still certain that telling Cullen about being mostly from another world would result in too much pain for either of them to bear and come through whole. For all her desire to be honest, she did not want to destroy what they had together. Losing him, seeing him in pain that she had caused ... just the thought of it was too much to even consider.

"I'll speak," she promised Cole quietly. "Soon. But let me do it, all right? It ... it wouldn't feel right, if you told him before I do."

"I have nothing to tell," Cole informed her in his soft, cryptic way. "You are silence and stillness. I like it, but it frightens me sometimes. You are my ... my friend." His voice seemed to gentle around a smile as he said that, hugging her arm to his skinny chest. "Friends should not be hurting if I can help. But I do not know how to help you."

She smiled at him, wondering just when she had started to think of this strange creature beside her as more of a brother than a friend. He was nothing like Lorcan had been, and yet he seemed to need that sense of connection. Or maybe I'm the one that needs the connection, she mused pensively. I'm looking for things to hold onto in this world. I don't want to leave it.

"Sometimes you can't take the hurt away, or solve the problem causing it," she told him gently. "Part of being a friend is knowing that just being there is enough to make the hurt less painful."

"I can help by just ... being near?" he asked, apparently needing clarification.

"Well, not all the time," Rory assured him, fairly certain Cullen would have an apoplectic rage reaction if Cole took up residence in their bedroom overnight. "But just the act of wanting to help is helpful when people you know and care for are struggling a little. The fact that someone you know and care about has compassion for your struggles is almost more meaningful than having someone solve those struggles for you."

"I don't understand." He frowned beneath the wide brim of his silly hat.

"You don't have to understand," she promised affectionately. "You just have to be you."

She could feel him gearing up to tell her she was making no sense, that to be himself meant solving problems and taking pain away, but the rising complaint was forestalled into silence as they passed through the gate into Skyhold itself, following the poorly-lit passage out and into the cloistered garden. Josephine and Varric were already halfway to the main hall, still discussing the forthcoming visit by high-ranking Orlesians, leaving Cole and Rory to amble easily through the garden itself together, taking an easy pace with the unstated intention of making their way to the tavern. There, Rory would leave Cole in his accustomed place, and take a shortcut through Bull's bedroom to the battlements to join her husband and bully him into going to bed at a decent time for once.

A small boy stepped out into their path, innocent eyes focusing for a moment on Rory's rounded belly before rising to meet her gaze. Kieran. Morrigan's boy was a sturdy ten years old, and if Rory hadn't known his provenance, she might have taken him for any other little boy. Knowing that he bore a portion of an Old God's soul inside him, however ... well, it made her a little wary.

"You're the healer."

She paused, drawing Cole to a halt. "I am. My name is Rory."

"No, it isn't," the little boy told her. "Grandmother says you don't fit here. I can make you fit."

A chill rushed through her, the color draining from her face. Grandmother. Flemeth. Holy mother of fuck, Flemeth. Flemeth knows about me?! How in the name of all that's ... As her thoughts collided in their shocked panic, she gripped Cole's hand tighter, fighting with everything she had not to back away from this small child who shouldn't have frightened her as much as he did. There was nothing threatening about Kieran. He was all curiosity and sweetness, as a child his age should be, and yet she found herself desperately wanting to run away from that matter-of-fact tone that declared he knew far more about her than she truly wanted anyone to know.

Footsteps wrenched her attention from the child before her, to the approach of Morrigan, a witch who saw far more than she ever let on to the people around her. The yellow-eyed witch of the wilds called to her son.

"Kieran ... are you bothering the Lady Healer?"

The little boy shook his head. "No, Mother," he promised, sliding his hand into Rory's frozen fingers. "I'm just showing her the way."

Morrigan's expression went blank for a moment, suddenly creased into lines of extreme panic. "No, don't - Kieran, what are you d-"

But for Rory ... the world went white and cold and silent, and Skyhold was no more.

6 notes · View notes

ao3feed-connor · 5 years

Text

The Ostensive Fumblings of Being Human

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XPOehL

by poquimo

January 2038

The aftermath of the revolution continues to shake the city of Detroit. Androids are living in government provided "pop-up" communities while efforts are being made to integrate them into society. You are a grad-student volunteering with the Detroit Crisis Response Unit (DCRU), working to help with relief efforts… or at least, keep those who are doing so in coffee. On one of your caffeine runs, you bump into a young man whose matter of fact way of speaking and seemingly deadpan humor catches your interest.

On the other side, Connor, newly deviant, is trying to understand what it means to be alive. Hank has encouraged him to "meet people" and you definitely fit that description.

Words: 2488, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson, Markus (Detroit: Become Human), North (Detroit: Become Human), Reader, Gavin Reed

Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader

Additional Tags: Fluff, First Relationship, First Love, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Segregation, Self-Discovery, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Asexuality Spectrum, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2XPOehL

#ao3feed #fanfic #dbh #dbh connor #detroit: become human

0 notes

hollowcrovvn · 5 years

Text

The Ostensive Fumblings of Being Human (part 8)

Note: I keep up with chapters much faster on ao3. This fic is up to chapter 13 there for those who want to jump ahead.

Pairing: Connor x female!reader

Rating: T

Summary: January 2039. The aftermath of the revolution continues to shake the city of Detroit. Androids are living in government provided communities while efforts are being made to integrate them into society. You are a grad-student volunteering with the Detroit Crisis Response Unit (DCRU), working to help with relief efforts. Set within the backdrop of the slowing growing Android Rights Movement, Connor, newly deviant, is trying to understand what it means to be alive while many others like him seek equality and justice.

Chapter Summary: A clandestine meeting with Jericho begins with the exchange of ideas regarding who might be responsible for the attack.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (ao3)

Tagged: @shaydeevee33 @easy-and-steady @goldie516 @house-arya @untilwearestarsinthesky @rainbowsithlord

The housing site was unavailable as a meeting point, given your current status suspending your access, but nothing stopped you from meeting with the four Jericho leaders on neutral ground. Now, you weren't completely breaking any rules, because you did have a support meeting lined up for later that week, something you couldn't say you were looking forward to.

Meanwhile, the androids that had been injured, including Simon, were repaired, moving out of the Cyberlife facility and back to the DCRU site. Some androids and their families however, had refused to return.

You'd heard faint rumors of concerns of androids leaving in fear of their safety, but the numbers were still small. The "neutral" ground selected was an abandoned home, one of many in Detroit's further neighborhoods. These areas with their empty homes were being looked at specifically for conversion into android communities, but seeing them in all their decrepit state made it obvious how long it would take to make that a reality.

You weren't sure if the four had invited you simply to get Connor to attend, or if there was some other motivation behind having a "clandestine" meeting with a human. Maybe you had just earned their trust? You hoped that was it, exiting the cab and taking Connor's hand when he offered it to help you out. The sting of the burns had completely gone and you were left now with spots of pink new skin on your palms. Your shoulder still ached sometimes, but other than a slight ringing in your ear that came and went, physically you were in good shape.

Connor had traded in his usual DPD attire for something more unassuming and casual. His LED was covered with a Tigers baseball cap that he had happily expressed that Hank bought for him in preparation for a promise made to take Connor to a game this summer. The rest was something you'd seen any guy, lazily headed to their next class on campus, wearing.

He looked positively, unmistakably human, which was the point.

You tried not to stare too much, but you were still doing some processing of your own. When Connor had finished telling you the details of those few days before November 12th, you had chosen not to ask questions during the retelling and just to save them for the end. You had quickly found yourself at a loss of where to even start. At the time , he had waited, patiently where you'd left him at the counter while you were half hiding out in the bedroom, staring at your clothes hung up in the closet, but nothing on your mind was about what to wear.

What was on your mind, was dealing with the knowledge Connor had been not just hunting deviants, but hunting Jericho to eradicate deviants entirely for CyberLife. The feeling was best described by the flutter in your stomach and the tension in your brow.Uncomfortable. It was hard to mask and you hated it because he'd been right—your opinion would need some time to change.

Connor had so calmly told you how his deviancy was planned by CyberLife, that he was sent to infiltrate Jericho but then Markus brought on his conversion. His voice had taken on that same distant tone, his expression passive and unfazed.

Now looking at him, standing outside in the gray day, he smiled back at you, interested and curious as ever and no trace of that mechanical coldness.

"Did you think of a question?" he asked.

"I was just wondering how... safe it is for you to be around Markus? Sorry, that feels so shitty to ask, I know it wasn't your choice."

"It's fine." Connor said, "I am perfectly safe. Even if CyberLife were to attempt to re-establish the connection, I know the way out."

"The garden." you said, confirming, "Tricky of Kamski. Conveniently , tricky."

"He is, in essence, my father." Connor said, keeping an eye out for anyone lingering around the street and once he confirmed no one was around, carefully trudged a path through the snow towards the front door of the house, "It makes sense he would know more about my software than even I do."

You followed, stepping into the footprints he left behind. The snow had built up in spots to knee height, with no one to clear the sidewalks in this part of town it wasn't surprising.

"Gosh—what's that like? "Meeting your maker"?"

You had reached the front door having successfully navigated the tundra. Connor waited before knocking, parting his lips slightly as he was poised to answer. Your breath came in faint clouds, his did not appear at all. He seemed to still be thinking of a good answer.

"Discomposing." he settled on at last, eyes flashing as he caught your gaze, "He did try to have me shoot a girl in his swimming pool to establish my humanity, so I have doubts about his proposed divinity."

"Doubts? How? That sounds bona fide Old Testament of him..." you said, and Connor grinned, turning his attention back to the door which he rapped in sequence. There was a click and Connor opened the door.

Inside the house had as much snow as parts of the street in spots above the staircase that had collapsed in. To the left was a living room, a fire started and tended to by a blond man you immediately recognized. Connor let you in first and then closed the door, locking it behind him. North had let you both in, moving back over to take a seat on a moth-eaten couch. Markus was standing, leaning against a far wall, but he pushed off and smiled the moment you both entered.

"The prodigal son returns." Markus said and you shot Connor a look.

Biblical references 2, Connor 0.

"I didn't ever leave." Connor said, crossing the room to take the hand Markus offered him. They touched at the wrist, skin fading back for a moment.

"You've been busy." Connor said, dry and unimpressed.

"And you've been put on restricted duty and before that were too busy with deviancy cases, so we have had to do our own detecting."

You had a distinct feeling you were missing something, shivering in your quickly dampening boots. North waved you over.

"This fire isn't entirely for our benefit, ---."

You were happy to come over, sitting on the ground by the fireplace. Simon set another log onto the flames, stirring up a new wave of pleasant heat.

"We haven't met yet properly." he said, offering your his hand, "I'm Simon."

That he had two hands at all was a miracle in itself, and he was seemingly having very little difficulty using them. You took his hand, noting that there was a jagged "scar" of sorts along his jaw, reaching back into his hairline. It was a flash of white, showing his inner casing.

"Did everything go well?"

Simon nodded, "Very well and better everyday. Some cosmetic software programming issues, but nothing I am too concerned about."

"Some say we should go without skin all the time anyway." North added, fiddling with a bouncy ball, rolling it along her thigh. You looked back over to Connor and Markus, noting they spoke together quietly in low voices. Markus looked resigned, Connor looked frustrated.

"I don't want to interrupt, but—has this "detecting" got anything to do with when you warned me about investigating the bombing yourself, Markus?" you said, kicking out a leg so that your boot could dry off in the heat of the fire. Simon, who was the only one whose expression you could properly see, shot Markus a surprised look.

"Oh c'mon, I'm not stupid." you said.

"Debatable." North said with a scoff and when you shot her a look she quickly defended herself, "We heard about the mishap the other night. That was stupid. Nothing personal."

"Josh told you?" you asked, not recalling giving him any specifics.

"No. He sends his well wishes by the way, he had another assignment." North said.

"Okay, so how did you know?"

"I'm curious to know the answer to that too." Connor said, shooting North a narrow look.

"Relax, Fido. We put a tail on her. We put a tail on all of them. For a second, we thought you'd fooled us all and were playing both sides." North said, reminding you that this did mean a tail had followed you all the way to an anti-android rally.

"Those people were disgusting." you said, tensing.

"You don't have to defend yourself, we know you weren't there as a participant clearly."

"We do want to know what you found out." Markus added and Connor suddenly looked a bit panicked.

"Hold on—this was why you wanted her to bring me along? I'm not supposed to give you information on these cases, Markus, and even if I could, we've seen already the contamination your people are bringing into scenes. The last gathering spot was practically useless as evidence. They ransacked the place."

Connor had mentioned that before that the DPD was struggling with contaminated scenes. You knew it had probably meant this, but hearing it confirmed was another thing.

"Why on earth would we pass up getting information from you? You're the perfect double agent, Connor." North said, "Or triple? I can never remember."

Connor didn't appreciate the joke, his jaw clenched slightly, but he kept his attention focused on Markus, who put his hands out in a sign of relenting.

"Connor... I know that in order to live together, we will have to abide and trust inmutually beneficial laws and rules—but we aren't there yet. All I'm doing is making sure that we know who our enemies are. We won't be retaliating."

North sighed very, very loudly at that. Markus gave her an impatient look.

"I got it, I got it." she muttered.

"We have in exchange some information that might be beneficial to the DPD." Markus said, "Simon?"

Simon got up, brushed off the dust and ash and took a tablet out from his backpack. He flipped a few screens and then presented the device to Connor. You got up to follow, coming to stand to look over Connor's shoulder. No one seemed to mind your presence, so you didn't question the trust.

"Michael Graham." Connor read.

"Do you remember him?" Markus asked.

"Yes." Connor said, "He was killed by a WR400 "Traci" android that went deviant at the Detroit Eden Club. I was assigned to the case November 6th, 2038. Mr. Graham was physically abusing the Traci models. He ordered two and killed one. The other, rather than submit to being destroyed, fought back."

Connor flipped the file, landing on a crime scene photo. You suddenly knew why Hank had advised you not look at them. Casting a look at you over his shoulder, he quickly skimmed by it.

"...There was another Traci model. They were lovers. I caught them at the loading bay and... I chose to let them go."

You remembered this part of the story he had relayed to you, how in that moment he began to truly question whether they, as androids, had no value outside of machines. Whether they could love.

"What does this case have to do with the bombing?" you asked, looking up at both Markus and Simon.

"Michael Graham was from an affluent family. The eldest son of Walter Graham of Skylar, Graham & Besop, LLC. A company that designs and sells parts for self-driving automotive vehicles. We believe his brother, Lucas Graham, is funding the extremist group the "Red Bloods." "

"Markus Christ, they have a name now?" you said, surprised by the sudden silence of the room. You looked up to find Markus giving you a very concerned look, while Simon smiled. Somewhere over your shoulder, you heard North snort. Connor was doing his best not to express an emotion at all, but you could see it in the way his LED flickered.

" Anyway ." Markus said, "They were just a typical hate group, but recently they have become organized and their ranks are padded with people from outside the city and even the state. Biker gangs, other extremists—you name it. They are recruiting and they are paying. "

"Sounds familiar. DCRU had to start paying volunteers for the housing initiative a month or so in just to get a blip of a head count."

"I don't think they have the same reasons." Simon added with mirthless humor.

"We have all this information regarding the Red Bloods at the DPD too, but how are you connecting Lucas Graham to this? Because of his brother?" Connor asked, looking up from the tablet.

"At the rally they were talking about deviant crimes a lot." you said, recalling the night in a factual way made it easier to process.

"We know, because there is one android serial number that has perpetually been brought to our attention when the DPD asks for updates on the turning over of these people for prosecution." Markus said, "After several attempts, we declared we did not know where this Traci android was and we were ending our efforts to find her. Two days later was the attack."

Markus touched the tablet, pulling up another bulletin you recognized immediately from DCRU's heading.

"Mr. Lucas Graham is also on the board for the Detroit Crisis Response Unit, giving him access to guard rotation schedules, fence perimeters... any security features." Markus concluded, watching Connor as he continued to look through the files, taking time to upload some to himself with the touch of two fingers. You couldn't help yourself, you suddenly grabbed Connor's arm, drawing his attention down as you looked at him wide eyed.

It fit.

"This... could be a good lead." Connor said.

“Is there something you want to add, —?” Markus said, turning his attention to you as it was hard to miss your reaction. You looked at Connor, not for approval, but for some sign of his opinion. Connor was silent, but then after a second he gave a hesitant nod.

“One of the men at the rally knew about my promotion to division planner before it was officially announced.” You began, “If this Lucas guy is involved, it would fit with how they got that information.”

Markus took a sharp breath, letting it out slowly. Restrained. He seemed to quiet whatever rage the confirmation of his fears had brought and let it pass through him.

“Thank you, —. With that in mind, we will take care.” Markus said, looking more than disappointed.

“Take care?” You said, noting that Simon looked equally grave while North had joined you looking unsurprised.

“We are considering other means of forming a community for androids, should these endeavors fail.”

Oh.

“What do you mean? Like— leave?”

“More like make our own space.” North said, “With our own security and our own plans— no offense.”

“None taken.” You said faintly, looking at Markus and feeling your stomach flip with anxiety at the idea of what might happen to the androids if they elected to take matters into their own hands in this. So far, the public opinion had been positive and the government compliant in giving the androids their most important demands, but if the androids were to refuse this requirement of keeping the shaky new peace? It could all go back to recycling camps in the blink of an eye.

Connor shut off the tablet and returned it to Markus, who refused it.

“Keep it. We simply transferred the data for ease of your human detectives.”

“Before we break, there is something else, Connor.” Simon said, but Connor seemed to already have an idea what it was about.

“Josh informed me.” He said, “I maintain that it is not a good idea for me to be too involved with the community at this time.”

Simon sighed, looking to Markus with an expression that read please talk to him.

“We have only barely scratched the surface of the bond created between an android who awakens another android, but it is there, Connor. You are important to them. To us.”

Connor however, seemed cold to Markus’ words, taking on that appearance of indifferent detachment you had seen before.

“I am better served where I am. I apologize, but we do not have time to go into it further. — has an appointment to keep.”

“Yay group therapy.” You said, false enthusiasm palpable. North’s interest peaked.

“Therapy? For the explosion?”

“Yeah, turns out I might be, “mismanaging my trauma” ” you said, air-quoting.

“Forget some human group, come to ours.” North said, “You know exactly what’s gonna happen with humans. They are going to get all interested in your job, ask you a billion stupid and offensive questions and nothing they’ve been through is going to compare at all to what you have.”

North managed to successfully hit on every concern you even had, remembering that not many humans had such close contact with “deviants” and that in a victim’s group where people were dealing with robbery mostly and the death of loved ones, you did kind of have a niche incident.

“Lucille runs it. Hell, Josh might even finally go if you’re there. All the androids that go were there that day.” North looked around at the other three, noting Connor’s expression she slipped into a bit of a defensive tone, “What? I’m right. Better to be with people who actually understand.”

“It’s not my call.” Connor said.

“Good! How about it? Unless being the only human would bother you.” North added.

“I mean… as long as it doesn’t make anyone else uncomfortable?”

“Anyone has a problem they can bring it to me.” North said, “I imagine some folks will not like it, but I think you can take it.”

That was probably the nicest thing North had ever said to you, which definitely said something in itself, but you chose to take it as it was given.

“And it gives Connor a chance to visit with the androids who he freed.” Markus added, reminding you of the part of Connor’s story earlier that you hadn’t even really thought about. Connor had infiltrated Cyberlife and awoken hundreds of androids… was this bond Markus talked about some kind of link they all shared? It seemed overly personal to you somehow, so you kept your questions to yourself for now.

“I will think about it.” Connor said, non-committal.

“Well, if you come you come. I’ll send you all the details, —.” North said.

Somehow, the idea of going to therapy seemed a bit less intimidating and oddly you even felt a bit of eagerness for the first time instead of dread.

With the meeting adjourned, Simon and Markus left you both with North who walked you out of the home through a separate entrance so as to avoid any attention from anyone who might have been watching outside. She took her job of security seriously.

“I wanted to thank you again for Simon,” North said, smiling with faint fondness, “I honestly don’t know how we would do this without him. He’s always been… a voice of reason.”

She looked up at you and you could see the sincerity in her eyes.

“He’s like a centerpiece. The one that calls Markus to action and keeps me from making an idiot of myself."

“He’s your glue.” You said, nodding with understanding, “I’m happy to have been able to help.”

North turned her attention to Connor, who’d been doing his best to avoid speaking to any of the others more than necessary.

“What about you, Con? You find your center yet?”

You couldn’t help but think you were missing something with the way the two of them exchanged stares, Connor’s intense and warning and hers teasing, eyes silently laughing. She pulled her pack from her back to the front, unzipping it and pulling free a container filled with vivid blue liquid. She offered it to Connor, who accepted it.

“Monthly ration for you. Try to keep him from getting shot at too much.” North said, giving Connor a light punch to the arm as she walked past you both and disappeared into the snowy, urban landscape.

You walked a ways through the neighborhood to the cab call area. You silently made a "grabby" gesture, indicating to Connor you'd put the thirium into your own messenger bag out of sight. He handed it over, calling the cab with a touch of his palm to the sensor.

"How much of this stuff do you actually have to drink?" you said, stepping a bit in place to keep warm and get some of the snow off your boots.

"RK800s are very efficient models, so I only need to replenish in the event of an injury. Some older models require bi-monthly changes of their thirium stores."

"You planning on getting injured?" you asked, meaning it to be light-hearted.

"I was injured." Connor stated simply, "I was grazed on my right thigh by a nine millimeter bullet during the incident at the bar. It caused minimal thirium losses, but given recent events, I messaged North privately before our arrival and asked if she would bring a canister."

"You... you got hurt?! Are you okay? You didn't seem hurt at all!" you asked as the cab drew up to the curb, doors opening. Connor offered you his hand and though you didn't need the help, you still took it, letting him guide you into the back seat. He joined you and you found yourself watching how he stepped in for any sign of the injury at all.

"I am fine. Androids do not feel pain." he said with a smile, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. The doors closed, shading the harsh winter light outside with the tinted windows. Warmth rushed from vents, immediately setting the temperature to a nice dry heat. You huffed a sigh, leaning back into the soft leather and without thinking, smoothed your glove covered thumb over his hands, looking with interest.

"Right. I knew that... You know, I've always been curious—exactly what do you feel?"

"It's different than how it was. Certain sensations were only prioritized if needed. Now it's a bit more consistent."

Connor allowed you to turn his hand this way and that, taking it back only to remove his glove. He then rested his bare hand palm up on his thigh for further inspection. You traced the tip of your middle finger from the tip of his own down to his palm, watching his fingers curl involuntary inward.

"What does that feel like?" you said.

Connor seemed to struggle to find words and trying to be helpful you slipped your own glove off and laced your fingers with his, oblivious to the effect your touches were having on his LED.

" Good ." Connor said, the word coming too quickly and breathlessly. You froze, suddenly feeling all too warm.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have—" your hand went lax and you attempted to draw away, but found your hand caught in his own.

"It's pressure. Also warmth. I know your core temperature on touch alone. It's.... soft. Or smooth I suppose." his thumb traced over the back of your hand for emphasis, smoother even than your own skin with its lack of ridges and fingerprints.

"Is that what you meant?" Connor asked, looking at you sheepishly.

"Yes, but—" you held his hand in both of yours now, "The uh—the other part... is important too. The emotional."

"I used to not feel anything, "emotional" or otherwise, when anyone touched me." Connor said, "Hank hugs me often, or puts his arm around my shoulders. It makes me feel... real. More so I mean."

Connor took a deep breath.

"He called me "son" once. That was also good." Connor smiled, risking a look over at you and when he found you were looking back he met your eyes, "But different from this."

"I would hope so." you said, laughing nervously. You let him take his hand back, shuffling to find where your glove had gotten to when the touch of the back of his curled knuckles just barely brushed your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered several times, resisting every urge to close and lean into the touch.

He did it only once, looking at you for approval or disapproval, hand hovering. You didn't ask him to stop, in fact, the only thing you remember saying was his name, soft and breathless as his own had been a few moments before. You were suddenly aware of how close he was, spreading your leg just slightly and finding your thigh flush against his own. The touch of his hand returned, slipping behind your neck and smoothing through the hair at your nape and then back. His thumb brushed over your cheek, cupping your jaw—and then the cab abruptly stopped and the doors slid open with a mechanical hiss. It was like someone flicked a switch, merciless daylight flooding the private space and the sounds of the construction machines jarring you from your stupor.

Connor was already up and out of the cab, his glove back on.

"This is where North said the meeting would be." Connor said, mask back in place as he helped you out and then broke the contact as soon as it was right to do so.

"Are you familiar with the location?" Connor said, pinging it to your phone. It was just one of the housing buildings, near where your own offices were on alpha site.

"Yeah. I can find it. Do... do you need to get going?" you asked, trying on your own mask to hide the disappointment.

"Yes, I am returning to Hank's residence for the time being. I need to replenish my thirium and return my operating capacity to 100%."

With that, you pulled the container out of your bag and handed it back to him.

"Will I see you later?"

"Certainly."

You were not entirely sure what that meant, but it was enough of a confirmation that you didn't feel like pressing for details. You stood, feeling a bit awkward about how to say "goodbye" and noting, to your extreme jealousy, that if Connor felt any such awkwardness, he was doing a damn good job hiding it.

"Okay well—uh. See you later."

"I hope this meeting is helpful to you." Connor said, sincerity returning to his voice, "If it does not work out, there is always the DPD organized one."

You nodded with understanding and watched as Connor disappeared back into the cab, the sleek black vehicle engaging and driving away. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, huffing an animated sigh.

"Weh-elp. You started it ." you said to yourself, bracing hands on your hips as if that might help "ground" you from whatever the ever loving hell that was and why your heart now felt like it existed somewhere in your stomach. When you'd had more time to process it, you made a mental note that it may be time to address—well, whatever it was that was going on between you two. For now though, there was a meeting to attend and the new-found eagerness you had that morning had faded to something still eager, but also anxious. What if the androids did not want a human there? What if you acted super weird? Weirder than normal?

You flashed your ID badge to the guards, finding North had informed them of your visit so the usual securities were taken for a “civilian”. Once the search and metal detector bit was over you headed into the housing site, catching an automated cart that served as a low grade shuttle around the complex. You entered in the modular unit number to the cart’s navigation system and sat facing backwards in the back seat as the cart sprung to life and began its trek across the lot.

#dbh #dbh fanfic #dbh fanfiction #dbh connor x reader #dbh connor x f!reader #dbh connor #detroit become human #detroit become human fanfic #detroit become human fanfiction #the ostensive fumblings of being human

35 notes · View notes

hollowcrovvn · 5 years

Text

The Ostensive Fumblings of Being Human (part 2)

Pairing: Connor x female!reader Rating: G for Gross Cute Crap Summary: Set two months after the ending of Detroit: Become Human, androids are living in government created “pop-up” communities while efforts are being made to integrate them into society. You are a grad-student volunteer with the Detroit Crisis Response Unit (DCRU), working to help with relief efforts… or at least, doing the work no one else wants to do. Which brings us to part 2.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (ao3)

The moment kept playing in your mind, giving you little snapshot glimpses of his face when he saw your phone number written on the cup. His face, perplexed, but so curious as he took in your every word with such rapt attention.

“Ugh… no.” you whined towards the ceiling, throwing your head back and sinking further into your sofa. Some TV series played ideally while you tapped a stylus on the screen of your tablet, opened to some notes regarding your most recent class. You risked short glances over to your phone.

“Stop it.” you said to yourself, “It’s not a big deal and you don’t even know if he’ll text.”

You sat silently for a moment, nearly forgetting about it in the thrall of the TV and procrastination on your assignment when your eyes slowly drifted over to it again.

“Son of a bitch.” you huffed, throwing tablet aside as you got up and made your way across the small one bedroom apartment to your smaller bathroom. You needed a shower and some comfy clothes and maybe some sleep.

Several minutes later you came out from the bathroom, towel drying your hair and feeling a bit more human with the cold no longer biting at your skin still from the damp outside. You weren’t looking, not really, your eyes just fell to the phone on the small kitchen table and noticed the screen was list with an envelope icon.

You managed to pretend not to be interested for approximately fifteen seconds before you were over, picking up the phone and trying to not think about how fast your heart was going as you opened the message…

… which was just from your DCRU supervisor reminding you to go to the DPD station downtown after checking in on site tomorrow.

You felt your heart fall and sighed as you clicked the message and set a reminder. Someone in Jericho had requested a number of open human-on-android violence cases as well as android-on-human and someone had to go get the stats. Most android cases were still considered “sensitive” so the only way to get the information was from the source. It was a placating act, something to make Jericho not so hostile to DCRU and their efforts, even if they could realistically do nothing about the numbers. You wondered if you would be lucky enough for it to be the same station Connor worked at.

You took your phone and headed off to bed, setting your alarm. It was nearly 11:40, which was not ideal if you didn’t want to be a zombie tomorrow. Sighing, you flicked off your lamp and curled up, closing your eyes and tucking in. Your breath began to slow and your body relax when suddenly the darkness behind your eyelids lit.

You opened your eyes a slit and saw the envelope notification with a question mark attached.

[ new sender ]

[ accept msg y/n? ]

You never hit “y” so fast in your life.

[ from: DPDCNSL#317

Thank you for agreeing to continue corresponding with me. I am looking forward to the experience.

And thank you for the coffee.

Have a good evening, ---.

Connor ]

And then before you could respond the little dots indicating he was responding popped up immediately.

[ from: DPDCNSL#317

Lieutenant Anderson has informed me that saying, “I am looking forward to the experience” sounds “creepy”. I am looking forward to being able to speak with you more.

Connor ]

You smiled and quickly wrote up a reply-- which you waited a few minutes to send because… like that is what you did right? You didn’t wanna reply too fast… right? You killed some time, changing his name in the message box.

[ from: ---

You’re welcome. And pls don’t thank me for that pitiful excuse for bean water. Next time, I’ll get you a latte and you’ll never be the same again. ]

[ from: Connor

You are correct, but not in the way I believe you think.

Regardless, I would like that. You are studying at Wayne State, correct? ]

You froze, staring at the words with shock. How the hell did he know that?

[ from: ---

You pull up my file, copper?]

[ from: Connor

I did a search on the internet. You came up under the staff listing as a research assistant for Urban Studies. Is that correct? There is no image, so it could be another ---. ]

[ from: ---

Bit weird to be searching for someone you just met. ]

[ from: Connor

I agree. Lieutenant Anderson located the information and sent it to my terminal. I was… curious. I apologize, I do not wish to cause you to feel uncomfortable. ]

It didn’t really matter much. All the information on the website was basic things and any social media you had was hidden from the outside. It was harmless, as far as most things went.

[ from: ---

It’s alright, next time you can just ask me. Though I think to make it up, you can buy me the coffee. Only fair. :) ]

[ from: Connor

I do receive a salary now, so that is a possibility.

--- it is now almost midnight. You should be resting as you have already lost two hours of the recommended time for sleep. I would recommend lowering your caffeine intake to 300mg per day to prevent further sleep disturbance.

Good night, ---. ]

[ from: ---

You can pry my coffee from my cold dead hands, hippy.

Good night. ]

Wildly specific advice aside, it was-- kinda sweet. That bit that you assumed was a joke about “receiving a salary” got a small chuckle from you. After waiting a few minutes though, it appeared that he was done messaging for the night.

Not too bad, you hummed to yourself, First potential friend outside of campus in four years. Adult humaning at last.

---

“Checking in on site” was just code for “bring us all our coffee order before you do any real work” and you did so as usual, dropping the cups off at the various desks, crowded into the small “conference” building. All of the DCRU’s own buildings were of the same shake-n-bake quality as the shelters put up for the androids. They did little to hold out the chill, but they kept out the damp. Several people had space heaters beneath their desks or blankets wrapped around their legs.

After dropping off the last drink, you made your way over to the desk of the person you liked most of all the superiors, chiefly because he would never ask you to bring him coffee. His name was Josh, and he had served as one of Markus’ companions during the start and the heart of the revolution. Prior to Jericho, he had been a university professor, which was something you found common ground with.

He was sitting still, as if staring off into the distance, but a quick note of his eyes would show them flickering back and forth. He was reading.

“You ready to do some real work?” he said, voice tinged with faint humor as he continued to scan through whatever files were working their way through his synthetic mind. You’d gotten use to this.

“Yes, for the love of Markus Christ.” you huffed, enjoying in the private joke. Since the revolution there had been no less than 112 articles official and amateur declaring Markus as an android “Messiah”. Based upon Josh’s word, this caused the actual Markus a great deal of discomfort, but still the metaphor stuck.

“I’m going to have to tell Simon that one.” Josh said with a laugh, finally turning his eyes to you indicating he was finished with whatever he was working on.

“But first things first.” he said, pulling out a tablet and handing it to you. It was one of his.

“You know most of these “deviant” criminal cases are still on lock down?”

You nodded.

“We’ve gotten clearance to have the files downloaded. Part of our agreements with the government involve… some explaining. I won’t sugar coat it. Some of these open cases are violent, resulting in death of the human or the android or sometimes both.”

You swallowed, eyes flicking to the tablet as if there would suddenly appear images but there was only a menu showing how to accept file download.

“... death can be a hard topic for anyone. Even more so for your people when it involves Android on Human crimes. You may see some disturbing things. You alright with this?”

“Of course!” you said, a bit quickly and a bit more defensively than intended.

“I mean that… I want to do anything I can to help. I know that… I know they are pressuring to have these androids turned over for prosecution.”

If Josh were non-deviant, he wouldn’t have tensed at the words, but he did.

“Historically speaking, we haven’t given any android justice. I know this is important. Anything I feel is secondary to that… is what I mean.”

Josh smiled warmly, standing up and hesitantly patting your shoulder.

“You remind me of my old students, ---. I’m sure you’ll do what you can.”

You nodded vigorously, because you would.

---

It was too far and too cold to walk the length of Detroit back towards downtown, so you took an automated cab. You’d tucked Josh’s tablet safely away in a rucksack over your shoulder and flipped through your phone idly.

You hovered over the message window with Connor for a moment before quickly sending off a few lines.

[ from: ---

Just so there are no surprises, I’m heading to the DPD station rn for unrelated stuff. Might see you! ]

It took you way longer than necessary to actually hit send, but when you did you were shocked that his response was almost instantaneous.

[ from: Connor

Unrelated to what? Also, are you alright? Do you have an open case with the DPD? ]

[ from: ---

It’s all good. And meant I just happen to be that way as opposed to ya know, stalking. ]

[ from: Connor

“Stalking” does imply stealth, which would be in direct opposition of your current actions if that was the intent. I agree that your actions do not constitute “stalking”. ]

You huffed a sigh, but then were startled as the message pinged again.

[ from: Connor

Bit weird though. ]

You felt a smile slowly form at one corner of your lips

[ from: Connor

That was a joke, in case it was too vague. ]

[ from: ---

I gotcha ;)

See you in a bit maybe. ]

And with that, you shut off your phone’s display just in time to exit the cab out front of the DPD building. Inside, the DPD had the same tell tale signs of the android revolution with its lack of noticeable androids. It was not until you got up to the reception desk that it dawned on you they both were identical. They were androids, they had just removed their LED. She was even wearing a name tag that said, Alicia in clear bold font. She was wearing regular professional wear, no Android identifiers in sight.

You’d heard the DPD had gotten on board relatively quickly with providing androids with pay, not wanting to lose the bulk of their staff. While the cleaning crews were absent, the receptionist turned up her face and smiled pleasantly,

“Good morning, how may I assist you?”

“Good morning!” you said, a bit too quickly, “My name is ---, I’m here from the Crisis Response Unit. I have a meeting with Captain Fowler.”

“Yes, we were told to expect you! Do you have your I.D.?” she said, and you were struck by how… friendly she was, as opposed to all the other ST300’s you’d encountered. You pulled out your “badge”, which was nothing more than an I.D. card with a special DCRU designation stamp inside a flip wallet. You passed it to her and she scanned it quickly.

“You’re all set! Just head right through these gates here and go straight back. Fowler’s office is the one in the middle with the glass doors, it should not be hard to miss, but if you get lost just grab one of the officers. They all should know all too well where his office is.” she said with a faint laugh at some private joke.

You nodded, fumbling to put your I.D. with a quick “thank you” before you headed through the gates. It was bigger inside than you expected, with several desks and lots of people working, standing and having their morning coffee or otherwise engaged. You noted the glass enclosed office towards the middle of the room and headed in that direction. There were three people already waiting inside and two of which you recognized immediately.

Captain Fowler was up, preparing to come open the door for you, but Connor beat him in a few brisk steps.

Hank was grinning at you in that suspicious way that you recalled from grade school… like he knew something you didn’t. In this situation, it was pretty unsettling. Did they find that parking ticket from sophomore year?!

“Good morning Ms. ---, please, have a seat.” Fowler gestured to the one other empty chair next to Hank, “These two suspect characters are Lieutenant Hank Anderson and his partner, Connor. They have been working the deviant android cases since the start.”

Connor politely offered you his hand, which you took. He squeezed gently, mischief glinting in those brown eyes before he let go and all but ushered you to your seat. Hank snorted.

“We’ve met.” Hank said, disregarding any pleasantries.

Fowler looked surprised.

“We frequent the same coffee shop.” you added, “So it was a very brief meeting.”

“You’re lucky.” Fowler said, eyeing Hank with disapproval. Hank seemed oblivious, or more likely, immune.

“We’ve been informed that the ADA’s office is seeking to prosecute these androids. It is highly likely that they are being concealed among the deviants at the relief camp.” Fowler leaned back in his chair, “So, we’ve been told to assist you in whatever way you need.”

“Some of us are a bit too eager…” you heard Hank muttered under his breath. Connor’s eyes trailed on him slowly, making no expression you could see but Hank must have gotten the message because he grumbled and slumped back.

“I appreciate that, Captain Fowler.” you began, “Markus has agreed that his people will search into the population of their androids for these individuals. It’s a good start to integrate androids into the justice system.”

Though you had your own opinions regarding the effectiveness of that. How could any android expect a fair trial when a jury of their peers would most likely be full of humans? But that was a topic for another time and place.

“These files are sealed, so we are requesting a downloaded copy so that efforts can be made to locate these androids.”

Captain Fowler looked unconvinced.

“I have confirmation from the governor and the President’s staff approving this request, if you would like to see it. The governor also said you might like to call her office as well.”

“I think I will do that. In the meanwhile, if you’d gentleman escort Ms. --- to the break-room where she might be a bit more comfortable?”

Hank stood and gave Connor a hard pat, “All you buddy.”

He left without a second glance.

“Right this way. ---.” Connor said, Chief Fowler now too engrossed with his phone to notice Connor used your first name.

It was hard to contain a smile as you walked alongside the detective, following him to a small break-room.

“Coffee?” he asked and you nodded briskly. He poured some of the dark, strong smelling liquid into a mug that read “#1 Dad” and after considering for a moment, pot still in his hand, he poured another.

Bringing both he came to sit with you at a rickety table, stabilized by a half folded paper plate under one leg.

“Don’t think this counts.” you said, taking the mug in both hands, enjoying the warmth if not the overly strong taste.

Connor did not drink.

“You work with the Detroit Crisis Response Unit?” he said, getting right to the point.

“Volunteered. Don’t give me too much credit though. When I joined up, it was all about flooding relief. The Android situation was a surprise.”

“Do you dislike Androids?” he asked.

“Wow. Talk about a hot button topic, Connor. You sure you don’t wanna ask me what my favorite color is first? My favorite movie?”

“No. I would much rather know your stance on the current events seeing as you are working as a relief volunteer.”

Direct. You hid behind the lip of the mug, feeling his eyes keenly on you.

“Why do you wanna know?” you countered, taking a small sip.

“I’m simply curious as to how you feel about your current assignment.”

“I feel just fine.” you said, “I guess… well. Guess sometimes they just spook me. Just like most people.”

“I see.” Connor said, seeming to relax a fraction, “You are afraid of them?”

“Not “afraid” just-- reasonably cautious.”

Connor seemed to be processing this, tapping his fingertips against the mug in his hand and watching himself do so intently.

“You worked on “deviant” cases for awhile, yeah?” you began, “Are… do they make you nervous? Because that’d be understandable given what you’ve seen.”

“They-- did. Before. Now I realize it’s the same as humans. We’re all capable of violence.”

Before you could continue, another man walked into the break-room, smile slick as oil.

“Well, there you are, tin-can.” he said with a smirk, picking up the coffee pot and sloshing some of it onto the counter as he poured a mug full.

“Whose this?” he said, giving you a smirk.

“A liaison from DCRU.” Connor replied coolly, bringing the coffee mug to his lips.

“Is that even good for your health, Con?” the man asked, but Connor ignored him.

“And who is this charming fellow.” you asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Detective Reed. Gavin, Reed.” he answered, giving you a wink, “Now I can see why Con here was in such a hurry to get his ring off before you showed up.”

Ah. That. That was. Not expected. Your blood ran cold, eyes immediately falling to Connor’s left hand as if you’d catch sight of a tan line or some other indicator that you’d been incredibly stupid.

“I got some super glue over at my desk if you need a quick fix.” he said, tapping Connor’s chair with the toe of his boot. Connor, looked somewhere between deflated and coldly controlled anger.

Hank’s appearance in the break room door thankfully put a halt to whatever was going on between the two men, his eyes fixing Gavin with a vicious glare.

“Don’t you have reports to finish, detective?” he said, circling in so that Gavin was forced to walk towards the door.

“Just tryin’ be a good wing-man for my bro, Connor.” he said, disappearing into the hall with a laugh.

Hank looked between you and Connor, noting the change in your demeanor, arms pulled in and looking anywhere but at his partner.

“Fowler uh-- got the call. You can come over to my desk and we’ll get you sorted.”

You hurriedly stood, fishing out your tablet so you’d be ready to download those files and get out of here as soon as possible.

Connor said nothing in his defense, but he watched you intently, searching.

“... thanks for the coffee.” you said, following Hank out.

---

Connor did not join you at Hank’s desk, which must not have been part of the plan because every few seconds Hank looked over his shoulder for him.

“Here. You should get a prompt to download any second now. There are photos, so if you’re squeamish I advised ya not look at the screen while they are downloading.”

You took his advice, letting the tablet drop unceremoniously to the desk as you leaned against it, arms crossed.

Hank was not scowling for once, but you were, brows furrowed tight and troubled.

“Look… ---, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t-- just don’t judge Connor before you get to know him. I know he’s a weird one. I know most people, hell even me, have this innate prejudice, but he likes you. Which is a big deal for him. He’s learning how this goes, so I don’t know-- maybe give him a break.”

“... did… did his wife die or something?”

Hank stared at you, eyes wide and confused.

“His wife.” he repeated, not so much a question but a confirmation of whether or not you were a rambling idiot.

“That detective! Gavin whatever-the-hell said that Connor took off his ring before I got here!”

Hank groaned, resting his face in his hand as he shook his head. The sound quickly turned into a laugh of sorts. He looked back up at you with that same mystified look he had before.

“You really don’t know. Kid, Connor took off his LED before you got here. That’s what Gavin meant. He’s an android.”

A lot, like a lot of things suddenly made sense now.

You sunk into a nearby chair, dazed.

“You really had no idea? With how fuckin’ weird he is?”

“I thought he was just… like, ya know. A hipster intellectual.”

Hank choked on nothing, busting into a loud laugh, “Well you ain’t wrong, kid!”

The tablet pinged, indicating it had finished downloading. Hank popped up, dismissing the file before you could pick it up.

“Like I said. Some gory stuff. I’d advise you get that to whoever wants it and not go poking around in it.” he handed you the tablet, “And for god’s sake, go talk to him before you leave. You’re the first person he’s been around that ain’t me and trust me, that’s good for him.”

You ran your hands over the tablet’s smooth sides, mind going a hundred miles a minute. You turned to leave and saw Connor coming back towards the desks, seeing clearly now the flashing LED he had replaced on the side of his temple.

His expression was blank, but you had dealt with enough androids that you could just faintly see the lines of nervousness and… hopefulness as he passed you.

You caught his forearm, touching the same place where androids connected systems.

“... I don’t dislike androids.” you whispered, risking a look at him through your eyelashes. He was-- smiling and it was so damn beautiful you felt the wall you had started constructing around your heart from Gavin’s words crack open.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You smiled, “Text me when you are ready to shell out for that latte.” and gave his arm one last small squeeze before heading out of the station.

#dbh fanfiction #dbh connor #dbh fanfic #dbh connor x reader #dbh connor x f!reader #detroit become human #dbh #oh look i wrote part 2 really fast oh no #i gotta keep this momentum up #also i just love really long titles like fallout boy songs so thats why its long by fallout boy #on mobile the font is FUCKED #the ostensive fumblings of being human

55 notes · View notes

hollowcrovvn · 5 years

Text

The Ostensive Fumblings of Being Human (part 5)

Pairing: Connor x female!reader

Rating: T

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (ao3)

Tagged: @shaydeevee33 @easy-and-steady

It was snowing again, thick and wet, sticking to the ground and to the roads, January fading into February with hardly anyone the wiser. You expected more bustle, more signs of life at the once Cyberlife owned distribution center, but all was quiet and still in the morning light. There were guards, human and android, at the gate. The android guards were behind the gate and the humans in front, whether there was some logistics behind this other than making sure the humans were kept out you didn't know and it didn't seem to matter. You showed your badge once to the humans and again to the androids. You were directed to one of the large buildings, the door opened for you and you were ushered in to the floor of what use to be a loading bay.

There were at least a dozen or more cots, with androids in various stages of disrepair and recovery on them. Other androids, family or friends, gathered around them, holding hands and speaking quietly as you would have expected of any hospital wing or emergency room. From what you could tell, there were few crates of parts, some androids only half fixed, but all appearing as stable as possible, receiving thirium through IVs.

Josh came out from behind an area that was blocked off with dividing screens, looking almost as if nothing had happened to him at all. You met eyes and suddenly you tossed aside your bag and rushed to meet him, his arms already extended for your hug. He held you so tight he lifted you from your feet, the momentum spinning you both slightly before he set you back down.

"You don't know how happy I am to see you." he said, voice filled with relief, "... a lot of people didn't make it. On both sides."

"You're okay? Your neck? Anything else?" you asked, instinctively running your hands from his shoulders down his arms as you looked him over. Where his arms had opened were faint imperfections, showing most likely the openings had been cauterized and now were half concealed by his artificial skin. Josh nodded regardless, "All accounted for. Voice had to be replaced, but I got off lucky."

Josh lowered his eyes, looking pained.

"Simon?" you asked, tentatively. The weight in your chest had returned. You didn't know the other Jericho android well, but you knew that the four of them were family.

"Stable. We managed to get some replacements for his damaged eye and ear, but... the damage to his arms isn't clean. It would take a professional to put them back together where he could even use them again. Replacement or not." Josh said, shaking his head, "And no android repair shop is going to fix a deviant ."

He spat the word like a curse. A slur.

"We'll see about that." you said, voice firm, "I'll talk to Cyberlife. I'll talk to anyone."

Josh just kept shaking his head, letting you go as he moved back behind the curtains and gestured you to follow. You were hesitant, but eventually followed him around. Simon was in a cot, arms wrapped up where they had been destroyed with layers of fresh gauze. He had several bags of thirium connected to him, his eyes were shut and his processes that ran simulated breathing appeared to be suspended. It was eerie, the only sign he was still alive was simply the fact Josh had said he was. A young woman with strawberry blonde hair gave you a look of unbridled hatred , turning her gaze on Josh.

"What the hell is she doing here?" the woman said, outraged. Markus was sitting at Simon's side, head bowed and rested against folded hands. When North spoke, he only glanced up at you for a moment before turning his eyes back down.

"This is a private matter. You need to leave." North continued, getting up from her chair and walking towards you with purpose. She was directly in your personal space when Josh stopped her.

"No, she doesn't. --- is a friend. She wants to help."

North scoffed, "Don't they all."

She looked you over with a critical eye and seemed to find nothing at all she approved of.

North circled away from you, on guard and tense. She moved with all the grace of a predator, ready to fight at any moment. She refused to sit again, instead, coming to stand by Markus at Simon's bedside, her hand on his shoulder even as she never took her eyes off you.

"Has an investigation been open?" Markus asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes. I spoke with a member of the DPD... I'm going there to make a statement and check on the status."

"Then why are you still here?" North snapped, Markus sitting up and putting his hand over her own tightly. She turned her head to him, backing down at the silent warning from her leader.

You swallowed thickly, "I wanted to make sure Josh was okay. That everyone was being treated."

"They--" North began, but Markus cut her off.

"We do not have enough parts. What you see here is what remained in the facility when we arrived. Cyberlife is claiming it will take at least a week or more to provide us with the things we need outside of thirium. They claim they don't have the extra funds. "

"That's bullshit ." you said, forgetting you were supposed to be "Miranda" level professional now. North even smiled.

"I'll contact them." you said, "Figure out what the hold up is."

Markus looked at you now, appraising the way Connor often did. He had no LED, so you could only wonder as to whether he was scanning you or not.

"Please do that." he said, "I would appreciate if you reached out to me as soon as you know anything. On the parts from Cyberlife or the case itself. If you're more comfortable, you can send the updates to Josh and he'll let me know."

"I can send them to all of you, if you want."

North snorted, "Absolutely not. You don't get a free line in to my head."

Markus smiled wryly, clearly more used to this kind of reaction from her than anyone else presently conscious in the room. "No one is saying you have to, North. She's just trying to be accommodating."

His smile faded, "I would appreciate it if you tried too."

"--- already has mine, so she can contact me whenever she wants." Josh said, bristling, "I won't turn down genuine help when offered. Our people can't afford the same luxury of "principles" as you right now, North."

She crossed her arms, shooting Josh a glare with less cold heat and more fire. You assumed that was the difference between glares reserved for friends and glares reserved for you.

"Please, you two." Markus said, softely. The tone seemed to have resonated with North, the change in her demeanor suddenly making her seem not so very threatening at all. "Simon won't be in need of a com channel right now..." Markus said, closing his eyes. Within a minute, your phone alert went off, indicating an RK200 model was opening communication. It was a different message than Connor's synchronizing, allowing only message contact. You clicked accept.

"Markus..." North said, her voice edged with warning and concern, "You're putting a lot of faith in one of the things that have tried yet again to kill us."

"I haven't done anything to you!" you said, sudden and defensive. You weren't normally this touchy, but something about near death had kinda put you on edge. North looked thoroughly unimpressed.

"You're right. You haven't. Which is also why Simon is laying here still mutila --"

" North . Please, stop." Markus said, his voice cracking. It sent a shock through your chest to hear the leader of the revolution sound so... heartbroken. Whatever North was going to say she stopped, turning towards him and blocking your view any further.

Josh gently took your forearm, avoiding your still injured hands, tugging you out of the area. The last glimpse you saw was of North wrapping her arms around Markus, letting him fall into her as he held her like a lifeline.

Josh looked nearly as devastated, eyes swimming as he walked you out and gave your back an affectionate rub.

"Thank you. I know you might not get much from Cyberlife, but... the thought counts to me. It reminds me to hope. And she'd hate me for saying it, but I'm sorry about North. I wish you knew her the way we all did, she really is an amazing person, but sometimes she just...."

You hugged him again around his middle and Josh was more than happy to reciprocate.

"I'll try not to hold it against her." you said, earning a chuckle, "And I'll be back. That much I can promise." you said, a white hot fury slowly beginning to smolder in your gut.

You'd be back here and you'd have those damn parts if it meant holding up the entire Cyberlife facility yourself.

It was near 10 a.m. and the sun was losing it's battle with the clouds today. You brushed snow from your hair, tugging free your gloves as you stepped into the DPD lobby, moved off to the side as you spoke in a harsh whisper on your phone.

"No, I don't understand. One of the largest facilities you own is--"

"Ms. ---, most of those parts are already bought and sold product or being rationed from us with limited refund. We are being required by the government to provide parts to their efforts. Which I understand they rationed to your facility as well."

"Which haven't arrived!" you said, loud enough to draw some eyes to you.

"That is something you will want to take up with your local government official." the man on the other side concluded and you swore you could just hear the self-satisfied smile.

"People are dying. We need those parts and we need techs to install them." you said, not sure if it would even work.

"I understand how you might feel that way. However, without the direct order of Miranda Stregga, I can not divert any spare parts or personnel to your facility."

"I'm her replacement, we've been through this."

"Yes. You have stumbled into the position on a technicality, an accident. I would much rather wait for the proper director to become available, as would Cyberlife." he added, before you could argue you didn't give a shit about his personal preference.

"Ms. ---, I have sympathy for your plight. Off the record-- " you heard a click, signalling he was blocking any attempts to record the phone call from your device, "You are young and our product has fooled you with it's realism. No one is dying . Machines are just going without maintenance and repair. Don't take it so much to heart. Cyberlife knows that there is a time and place for pretending to buy into the public's idiotic idea these androids are people. You should learn too."

He almost sounded genuine. It made the back of your throat burn. You saw Hank come out from around the hall into the DPD lobby, looking around with an air of impatience. His eyes fell on you and he gestured his arms out, What gives?

It was 10:20.

"I have to go and give a statement to the DPD, but I will be calling back to continue this phone call immediately after I'm done."

"Very well." he said, almost with a laugh.

The line disconnected and you hurried to meet Hank. He scanned his badge, allowing you access through the entrance and back into the bullpen. There was much more bustle in the DPD today than had been before, from the bits of conversation you caught, it was all from a tip line set up to try and find out which "android" attacked the DCRU facility.

"God damn mayor set it up." Hank grumbled, leading you back into an interview room. Judging by the two way mirror, it was actually an interrogation room. You felt a sudden flutter of nervousness in your stomach.

"Hope this is okay. Multi purpose. I'll leave the door open even if you want." Hank said, pulling out the aluminum chair for you. You shook your head, you'd rather have the privacy. Hank closed the door, leaving it unlocked though.

"Hope you remembered to put the scuff pad back on." you said, checking the chair for wobbling. It was sturdy, but the comment drew a barked laugh from Hank.

"Trust me. Connor gave the place a thorough once over when he knew I'd be taking you in here. Surprised there isn't chocolate mints and pillows."

You blushed and Hank didn't need to be an android to notice it. He said nothing about it though, setting a recording device on the table. It was a bit low tech considering most interrogation rooms came with full video and audio recording in the room behind the two-way mirror.

"Figured we don't need the whole dog and pony show. You aren't a suspect, in case you were wondering." Hank said, clicking on a button and turning the recorder on.

"Let's see it is uh-- 10:32 a.m. on February 2nd, 2039. I have with me today Ms. -----, volunteer of the Detroit Crisis Response Unit who was present during the explosion that occurred at Housing Site Alpha on....." Hank paused the droning details, checking a file, "January 31st, 2039 at approximately 11:15 in the morning."

He turned up from the file, trying to be as friendly as possible, "Please confirm your name."

You confirmed it, instinctively crossing your arms. It wasn't cold in the room, but you felt chilled regardless.

"Okay-- first things first. Where were you approximately when the explosive device went off?"

"By the fence line. The line is measured fifteen feet from the first modular unit exactly, but it may have been more like ten feet."

"So you were close, but relatively uninjured?"

You nodded, forgetting the recording device couldn't see you and instead added, "Yes. Josh, one of the androids at the housing site, shielded me and threw me down when it went off."

Hank nodded, flipping through some photos in the file which he thankfully kept out of your sight. You really didn't need to see it again if possible.

"Was that before or after the explosion?"

"Excuse me?"

"When this Josh put himself between you and the blast. Do you remember if it did it before you saw the explosion or after?"

Your blood ran cold, finally understanding the implication. They wanted to know if Josh was aware something was going to happen before it did and tried to keep you safe. You held up your hands to the detective, showing the bandages.

"The explosion happened first . Josh wasn't able to prevent me from getting singed from the initial blast. He didn't see it coming either."

Hank smiled ruefully, "Of course. Who else was present at the sight aside from you and Josh?"

"Miranda Stregga, at least three security officers and... and a lot of androids. It was a three mod home unit."

"We have a record of 17 androids being injured in the blast and four killed on detonation." Hank said, matter-o-factly. Your face must have given away your shock, because when he looked up he seemed surprised. Quickly he reached out and paused the recorder. Your eyes were steaming.

"Sorry... shouldn't have told you that way. I thought maybe you already knew."

"No." you said, wiping your eyes, frustrated that you were even crying at all, "And the human officers? Miranda?"

Hank hesitated, but then nodded, "Yeah. One officer died this morning. We're... waiting on whether Ms. Stregga will be added to that. Do you... need a minute? Water? Coffee?"

You nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Got it. I'll be right back." Hank said, hurriedly getting up as if he were late to something. He opened the interrogation room door and immediately let out an irritated sound, shoving someone or something backwards.

" C'mon , back off, I didn't--"

The conversation became muted as the door closed roughly behind him. You turned, but didn't catch a glimpse of whomever he was speaking with in the hall, but you had a few guesses. You were left alone for only a few minutes before Hank returned, scowling but holding a cup of water and in his other hand a small packet of tissues.

He set down both.

"Oh-- thank you. I should be okay, sorry. I just was caught off guard."

Hank sighed, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Courtesy of DPD."

He shot a look at the two way mirror than, exasperated. It had occurred to you that someone may be watching, but knowing that it might very well be Connor added an extra level of butterflies to your stomach.

"Um... Ms.---? Don't be uh, nervous. Like I said, you aren't in any trouble." Hank said with a level of practice that made you raise an eyebrow. It was clear these were someone else's words. He quickly seemed to get embarrassed, flipping the file back open and abruptly hitting record again.

"Alright. So you were roughly ten to fifteen feet from the initial blast by the fence line. What drew you all out to that part of the facility that day?"

"Someone had used pliers to rip open a hole in the fence." you said, "Simon determined that it was someone from outside who came in, not someone "escaping"."

"Simon?" Hank said, turning some pages, "Who is Simon?"

"Another android. Simon and Markus, who I assume doesn't need an introduction, returned from their trip to D.C.. I don't know for sure why Simon joined us, except that he might have heard about the situation. It was common knowledge at that point."

"How so?" Hank continued, "How would Simon, who had been in D.C. until that morning, know about the fence break in?"

You smiled, "He's an android. They all communicate instantaneously via a communication network. If Josh knew, then Simon knew."

Hank took out a pen and jotted something down on the cover of the folder.

"Simon also was the first one who noticed the bomb. He could smell-- something. I don't know if it was gunpowder or some chemical or what."

Hank's brow furrowed, looking through some other notes in the file before finally he asked,

"What model android is Simon?"

"A PL600."

"You know what duties those models usually perform?"

You shrugged. Hank gave you a pointed look until you said "no" out loud.

"Domestic assistants. Not exactly a crime scene examiner." Hank scoffed, "Is it common for DCRU to depend on the analysis of a manny android?"

"Who knows what kind of upgrades they've all downloaded since that time." you said, irritation tinging your voice at having Simon dismissed like that, "They have to adapt to their new lives and unfortunately part of those lives now includes getting bombs planted in their homes."

Hank nodded, scribbling something down again. There was a sound, like a faint tap that drew his eyes up, which he rolled at the mirror.

"Can I ask you a question, lieutenant?"

He shrugged, "Sure."

"Does the DPD seriously think an android did this?"

"We are exploring all possible venues." Hank said, practiced and without inflection. He'd said this line many times before in his career, you gathered, "That's all the questions we have for you today, Ms. ---. Thank you for coming down to speak to us. If we have any further questions we will contact you."

Hank clicked the stop button on the recording and set it aside.

"Real talk." Hank began, flipping the folder towards you and showing you pictures of a scorched device, "No android did this. I know it. You know it. Cyberlife probably knows it too. We got a few leads, but my advice to you is to keep your head down and your ass outta the line of fire. And you send that advice on to whomever else you think needs to hear it too."

Aka Markus. Your eyes scanned over the device showed in the photo, catching sight of a note on a piece of paper underneath that listed a name and an address-- Temple Bar . Cass ave. 2/4. Hank quickly flipped the folder shut, eyeing you for a moment before seeming to decide against whatever he was going to say next.

"I would offer to walk you out, but my partner will probably overheat his circuits if I don't let him do the honors." Hank said, easing back into a casual demeanor as he tucked the folder under his arm and went to open the door, "But that's the last time I lend him any book of mine. Thought I actually remembered reading that crap! Macchiato or whoever the hell. Kept talking about damn Disney movies too."

You smiled despite yourself and once Hank led you to the hall, you saw Connor, dressed in a suit that clearly had been removed of android markers. He sat, hands clasped together and back straight, always seeming to be just observing and taking in everything going on around him. When he noticed you however, all that focus roped in and narrowed to one thing.

He smiled, quickly getting up.

"Ms. ---, what a nice surp--"

"Yeah, yeah. Surprise. Whatever." Hank said, brushing passed Connor with his shoulder in what seemed more an affectionate display than aggressive. Connor stopped mid posturing, watching Hank head back to his desk for only a second before his attention was on you.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, probably noting you weren't wearing your sling probably before he even got up. You didn't resist him ushering you to a private corner, out of sight and earshot of Gavin or any other who might interrupt.

"Better." you said, a casual lie, but then you remembered Connor could probably see that all in any scan.

"Well-- sore. Mostly sore. And tired. And..." you sighed heavily, deflating, "And pissed off at Cyber-fucks."

Connor perked, as if he had good news that would alleviate one of these things, but then he started looking-- guilty?

" I have something to tell you, but I am worried you may react negatively."

Okay, now you were giving him the suspicious glare, voice lowered, "What?"

"You may be able to acquire the resources you need from Cyberlife if you apply pressure on them through media perception. They are working very hard to make themselves appear victims, skirting the line of denying androids are alive." he continued, "Public opinion has been swayed strongly to favor androids. An individual employed by Cyberlife may mistakenly think it safe to speak freely over any Cyberlife initiated communication because of the level of firewalls and protections Cyberlife offers. However, those protections do not keep me out."

"How did you---"

Connor's LED flashed and there was a sudden ding to your phone. You picked up and saw the words, "Recorded Call".

"No way." you said, clicking play and hearing the "off the record" dialogue of the Cyberlife rep perfectly preserved in the digital cloud, "No way."

You felt a flash of emotion between sudden nefarious triumph and dulled anger that Connor had been snooping in your phone.

"This," you said pointing to the recording, "Is great. This?" you gestured to all of Connor and then to your phone, " Not great. But I have a phone call to make and you and me will talk about that once I'm done threatening this dickhead."

Connor frowned, "Threatening him may get you one shipment, but if an outside source, an unknown were to do it... they may be inspired to act further out of fear of a breach in their security protocols."

"It would take days to get equipment that would fool Cyberlife into knowing it wasn't me." you said, looking at your phone and remembering Simon, disabled and barely holding his processes together.

"Perhaps if the file were to be leaked anonymously by an unknown android unit." Connor said, "That way any possible accusations of "hacking" would not fall on you and no accusations could be directed at Jericho either."

"But they could fall on you." you said, voice flat.

"If they catch me." Connor said with a smirk, "This is the most reasonable choice. There is a 79% probability that Cyberlife will provide parts and Jericho and yourself will be in a position to deny involvement. There is minimal risk to the most important groups."

"You can't ask me to approve of you putting yourself at risk." you said, baffled by how easy Connor seemed to suggest taking the burden of possible fault completely on himself, "... maybe Simon will be okay. Cyberlife said weeks, but it could have just been..."

"I can ask, but I did not say I needed the approval." Connor said, leaving you sputtering.

"No! Wait, I mean-- Connor, wait." you couldn't very well stop him from uploading whatever he wanted from his mind, but you grabbed both his arms, holding him in place as if that could stop it. He seemed at least a little amused by it, LED spinning showing he'd already done something.

"Why would you do that ? " you asked, earnestly.

"I am an android, ---." he said, "If this is how I can help my people, then this is how I'll help them."

It occurred to you that you understood very little about Connor or where he came from or what he'd done during the revolution. He worked on deviant cases, that you knew, but how did he himself deviate? Was it just a happenstance, or did something propel it forward? You'd always just accepted it, never questioned it. You'd been happy to accept his concern and his attention because it was just so freely given, because it seemed he had no expectation of you reciprocating at all... but here was the thing. You did reciprocate.

"I assure you, I can take care of myself. I will take all the needed precautions." Connor said, trailing off, "Josh is important to you, ---, and Simon is important to him."

"So is it for your people or for me?" you said, frowning deeply.

"In this instance it is both. We are friends, aren't we? I have found through my friendship with Hank that protecting one another is one of the highest ways to show your friendship."

"Connor," you said, laughing mirthlessly, "You've known me for three weeks."

"And I've only been alive for eight months." Connor said, countering your argument, "Less, if you can even call what I was doing before I deviated living. Three weeks is not the same to me."

Something in his own words gave him pause, the space between his brows furrowing tightly.

"I have met many people, androids and humans in that time but... none of them ever spoke to me the way you did. Not like a dog of Cyberlife or a android... but like I was more. Like I was real."

Your breath caught in your throat as he reached his hand forward tentatively to barely trace the tips of his fingers between yours, not quite taking your hand. His skin slipped away, showing the white casing beneath. You felt something, the faintest vibration of connectors, recognizing it as how androids would meld their minds together. The act was fruitless, as you had nothing for him to sync to, but still it dawned on you the gravity of this very tangible act of reaching out, of seeking a connection.

He looked so lost, trying to find some answer in your eyes that you didn't know would ever be there. Could ever be there.

"You are real." you said, lacing your fingers with his at last and solidifying the connection, "And I want you to come with me tomorrow when I tell Markus I have the parts to save those people."

There was still something unsure in the downturn of his lips.

"I haven't seen any of them since the 12th." he confessed, "You don't know what I have done to them. What I almost did. I'm--" he paused, face working against the wave of emotions and settling on shock, "-- scared ."

"You stayed with me when I was afraid." you said, giving his hand a little swing, trying to be cheerful, "I'll stay with you."

Before he could respond, his LED swirled.

"Cyberlife responded with a diverted delivery receipt. Requested crates have been approved and should arrive as early as this evening along with four trained technicians to facilitate repairs."

You sighed, A week or more my ass.

"Anything else?"

"Nothing important." Connor said, coming back to you. You highly doubted that, but let it go for now.

"It's early. I should still try and get over to DRCU Alpha site and see if there is anything else I can do."

You were still holding hands. You cleared your throat and Connor let go.

"Do you... want to come over tonight? We can finish watching To Kill a Mockingbird and you can tell me all about your hellish descent into the pits of freshman philosophy." you tried to play it off casually, but when he smiled like a 800 watt light bulb, it was hard to conceal your own liking of the idea.

"Yes.' he said, "Will Josh be joining us?"

"I doubt it. He will want to stay close by Markus so uh-- just you and me. If that's okay?"

It occurred to you maybe Connor kept asking about Josh because he was wanting to befriend androids like you suggested... maybe one on one was easier for him?

"We can see how he is feeling after Simon is recovered and then we can all hang out."

Connor smiled thinly, something decidedly "un"-android about the way his eyes seemed to darken. It passed quickly, fading into his usual demeanor.

"Then I will see you later this evening. Please remember to change your bandages in approximately an hour and forty two minutes."

The housing site was almost entirely abandoned of DCRU personnel, which did little to garner trust and approval from the androids still required to live there. Protect the humans, but leave them open to threat? Not a great stance.

There were options, which were presented to you by the chief of security, that Miranda had already devised in the event of attack. Practical as always. You opted for higher levels of rotations in tighter circles around the fences and for the building of towers to allow better vantage point for stationed positions. The fence had been repaired and a second layer of fences was being installed. Barbed wire was suggested but ultimately passed over as despite the security it may provide, it gave the unit too much of a prison feeling.

Preparations were to be made and heading to the empty DCRU building, you sank into your empty desk. It was so quiet, you considered crawling under one with a blanket for a nap, but remembered you had updates to send.

[ To: COMREL#PJ500; COMREL#RK200 ]

You took the time to rename the contacts before continuing.

[To: Josh; Markus

Good news. Parts are on their way. Techs too to install them. You should be getting an auto-truck shipment by tonight. ]

A chime. Fast. You expected Josh, but saw Markus' name.

[From: Markus

How? ]

[From: ---

I enlisted some help. I'll tell you about it in person. ]

[From: Josh

That's incredible!! 🙂 🙂 🙂 ]

You knew you shouldn't need praise, but it felt nice to always know Josh was in your corner.

[From: Markus

And the investigation? ]

[From: ---

Ongoing. They said they have leads. I'm sure you do too. ]

You weren't dumb. There was no way on heaven or earth that Markus would let the human controlled DPD manage this case. It would not even make you bat an eye to find he'd sent North or others out looking for details.

[From: Markus

Of course not. We have left this case in the capable hands of the DPD. ]

Could sarcasm be detectable over text? Because you were detecting it.

[From: ---

Of course. ]

[From: Josh

---, will you be coming back to the center? You should be here when the crates come in. ]

[From: ---

Nah, I don't want to get in the way. It'll be hectic with the techs working, but I'll be by again. I have someone who is interested in being of help to you all. ]

[From: Markus

Android or human? ]

[From: Josh

Does it matter? ]

[From: ---

Android. ]

[From: Markus

I was simply curious, Josh.

Please, feel free to bring our fellow brother or sister in. ]

Now all that was left was to convince Connor. You gathered up some files, just things that were left unattended to in the hurry to leave the facility and set them inside drawers, securing them with a key. Eventually, you made your way to the front, where Miranda's desk was, a half full paper cup of London Fog still sitting on the edge. It was a strange and sudden notion, but you were beginning to think you missed just being the coffee girl. When was the last time you had even checked in at Wayne State? You hadn't heard anything from them, so you assumed they either knew or didn't care. Or maybe even both. You pushed Miranda's soft leather chair away from her desk, something comfortable she had clearly brought from home and took a seat, looking over the stacks of papers and lines of empty desks. Perhaps this was why Markus had looked at you so full of pity that day. He knew what it meant to suddenly be thrust into a position where people depended on you because there was no one else. There was nothing else. It was not so dire as his own cause, but he had seen something that reminded him of those first days. Your phone chimed, a new message appearing.

[ From: Connor

I know you are concerned about my actions with Cyberlife. However.

Never was anything great achieved without danger. ]

God dammit, Machiavelli.

#detroit become human #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh connor x f!reader #detroit become human fanfiction #detroit become human fanfic #dbh fanfiction #dbh fanfic #the ostensive fumblings of being human

46 notes · View notes