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purrfectpitch · 3 years

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My Thoughts on Happiest Season

I haven't posted anything in forever but after having seen "Happiest Season", I wanted to share a few thoughts and address some criticism.

To begin, I am truly saddened that this movie was not unanimously welcomed as the holy grail of Christmas lesbianism bliss that we were all waiting (and hoping) for.

Because in all honesty, perhaps it wasn’t.

But mostly, because as an audience, I must admit that we are extremely critical. After all, how could we not be? This movie is about us. For us. Criticism is our prerogative.

However, I believe that as much as we recognize the issues in mainstream media, we should also underline and celebrate the victories.

In this essay, I will -

Starved For Representation

After watching “Happiest Season”, I was left with conflictual emotions.

I had been craving a mainstream rom-com featuring two women since “Imagine Me and You”, in 2005.

From 2005 to 2020, we have had televisual representation of course! Period dramas, TV show featuring gay couples, movies giving us little winks (though sometimes queer baiting...)

But I must admit that I was starved for a mainstreamly strong, proud, established, "out there" relationship between two women. A couple that had gone through the hardship of coming out ages ago, and that was now dealing with the same issues that every other couples go through. And I was fiercely hoping that "Happiest Season" was it.

See, the problem with the lack of representation in media is that the first TV show or movie to pave the way will be infinitely more subject to scrutiny, pressure and criticism. Because it is the first. Because it has a duty, a burden, to represent thousands of experiences that have never seen the day on a screen.

But this is an impossible task. It is unfair to expect.

And yet, here we are.

The Infamous Closet

Yes, how Harper acted was harsh at times.

Yes, she could have shown Abby more tenderness and understanding in some instances, especially the morning after her night out with friends.

Yes, she could have acted better and soothed Abby's insecurities and frustrations throughout the trip.

But this movie is not a representation of the perfect closeted relationship.

It is one depiction of one story of one LGBT character dealing with her family’s (and perhaps her own) internalized homophobia.

As John said, “There is your version, and my version, and everything in-between.”

Most of us have recognized ourselves in at least one character or situation in this movie. Whether it be Abby, Harper, Riley…

As Harper said, on one hand, she could lose her family, and on the other, she could lose Abby. While this turned out not to be the case because her family (thankfully) still accepted her in the end, that is how she felt. Torn between her two realities. A loss equally as terrifying. How do you make that choice?

For years, it seems like the main discourse in the LGBT community has been to embrace who you are, whoever you may lose in the way, because they don’t deserve you anyway.

That sounds amazing. But in reality? Not everyone has the freedom, confidence or safety to embrace who they are. Feeling free, but having lost your family? That is a truly heartbreaking choice. I don’t think that it is a sacrifice that everyone is willing to make so confidently.

Should you always be you and be true to yourself? Absolutely. Should you judge people who are scared to lose their family? No.

Harper? She wasn’t going to lose her family, no. But was she terrified of it? Yes.

I believe that only makes her human.

The point of the movie was not to support Harper's every action. The point was precisely to see how her family's toxicity had left her starved for acceptance, no matter the cost. She was suffering deeply, grasping at straws for her parents to accept her. Abby was the collateral damage to an otherwise much deeper trauma.

But what matters to me is that she did find her way in the end. Expecting people to be perfect on the first try can be unfair. A person's journey to self-love and acceptance can be a very bumpy road indeed.

That Coming Out Trope

In the end, this movie was never going to please everyone. Because as the first mainstream lesbian holiday rom-com, how could it possibly? Years of yearning, years of crumbs of representation, years of believing that LGBT media will always and forever be the coming out story.

As if we are nothing more than the dramatic journey of coming out.

The movie industry loves beginnings. Movies always end at the start of new relationships.

For instance, in “Love, Simon”, the movie ends with them getting together and embracing their homosexuality and they ride off into the sunset.

However, in “The Happiest Season”, Harper and Abby's relationship has already been going for a year. They already met their first hurdles as a couple. Most of all, the movie skipped the endless tormented questioning of sexual identity and attraction.

Never did I think Harper actually thought about getting back with Connor. Never was she tempted to go back to the "straight" side, for convenience.

So is "Happiest Season" about coming out? Yes.

Is it about sexual awakening and a quest for identify, no.

And to me, that is refreshing.

Closing Comment

"Happiest Season" had its problems. But as a Christmas dramedy, I found that it was ticking a lot of the criteria of the genre.

You may love it, you may hate it or you may have any reaction in-between. But to me, it will remain a very noble and noteworthy first step into the next stage of LGBT storylines.

One day, I hope we get to see beyond the coming out. Beyond the happily ever after.

But for now, we are one community. We move forward toward a common goal of unity, acceptance and liberty.

And in my book, "Happiest Season" is definitely a step forward.

I am left feeling that one day, we will get there.

"Happiest Season" gave me hope.

And for that, I am truly grateful.

#Happiest Season #Kristen Stewart #Mackenzie Davis #Clea DuVall #LGBT #text post #Abby X Harper #mine #mystuff

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years

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Sub Rosa [4]

iv. murphy’s law

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Character death, language, violence, hanging, fighting, character suicide (canon compliant).

Summary: Everyone learns that actions have consequences when Murphy seeks revenge on Charlotte. You team up with Bellamy and Clarke and try to save her from death.

a/n: thank you for all of the love on this series so far! if anyone wants to be tagged in future parts, I’d be more than happy to do that! also, did you guys see the poster?! what do you think??

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You wake up to the sounds of chaos from the camp.

You blink against the early morning sun and sit up, looking around the clearing, watching as people run by with supplies, fear written on most of their faces. You grab one girl’s arm as she runs past you. “What’s going on?”

“They found someone dead outside of camp. Bellamy has us building a wall for protection.”

You stand quickly, “Dead? Who?”

“I don’t know.”

You jump up and take off running, looking for Clarke. She’s not in the dropship or anywhere in the camp, and you don’t see her working on the wall. You look around in panic, before you spot Octavia getting some water. You run over to her, “Where’s Clarke? Is she okay?”

“I think she’s at the graves.”

“Thank you!” You make a beeline for the small clearing being used as a graveyard, and you let out a sigh of relief when you see Clarke kneeling at the edge of a freshly dug grave. She spins around when she hears your approach, knife in hand, and you hold up your hands in surrender. “Easy, it’s just me.”

She lowers the knife, “Sorry, I’m a little on edge today.”

“I heard someone died,” you kneel down next to her, eyeing the grave. “Who was it?”

“Wells.”

You turn to her, confused. “Wells? Good riddance then.”

She turns to you, abruptly. “Don’t say that.”

“Clarke, he’s the reason our father is dead.

Her face falls, “He’s not...he didn’t…” Tears well up in her eyes, and you put a hand on her knee. “He was protecting me. Us.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Wells let me think it was him who turned in dad. But it wasn’t.” She looks up, her eyes meeting yours, voice hard. “It was mom.”

You recoil, staring at her in shock. “Mom?” Anger heats up your skin, and rolls off your body in waves. “Mom turned dad in? Why? Why would she do that?”

Clarke shakes her head, “I don’t know. I only just realized last night, and confronted Wells about it. I was going to tell you, but I couldn’t find you.”

You both sit in silence, facing each other, saying nothing. Clarke reaches up and brushes a finger over the moon around your neck, before pulling up her sleeve to reveal dad’s watch, and a bracelet that’s nearly identical to your necklace. Except, instead of a moon, a silver star glints back at you in the sunlight. You whisper, “His little la lune and his shining star.”

She smiles sadly at the memory, and you both start to silently cry, one small part of the crack in your relationship starting to heal as you mourn the loss of your father together.

You don’t know how long you sit there, but the silence is soon broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. Clarke pulls out her knife again and holds it up, before lowering it when Finn comes into view. You don’t miss the way they look at each other, and suddenly you feel very out of place. You stand, wiping the tears from your eyes, “I’m gonna go see if they need any help on the wall.”

Clarke nods and you turn and walk back to camp, giving Finn a small smile as you walk by, which he returns. Every step you take away from Clarke, and Wells, you feel your anger start to rise back in you, drowning out the sorrow. You look around at the members of the camp, looking for one in particular.

Bellamy.

You finally spot him near the wall, talking to Murphy. You stalk over, stopping in front of him, chin tipped in defiance. “I need to talk to you.”

He looks over at Murphy and nods, before leading you into a tent that he often uses as a headquarters. As soon as you’re both inside, you spin and face him. “I want you to take my wristband off.”

He shakes his head in confusion, “What?”

You hold out your arm, the wristband on display, “I’d do it, but I don’t want to hurt myself.”

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter why.” You point towards the door of the tent, “If you won’t do it, I’m sure Murphy will.”

“No, I’ll do it.” He motions towards the small table, “Put your wrist on the table.”

You do as he says and he grabs a small metal bar. “This might hurt.”

You nod and he slides the bar under the bracelet, near the clasp, and pulls the bar up, creating tension on the lock. You wince as the bar digs into your skin and the small needles in the bracelet shift. With one final pull, it pops off and drops to the table. Bellamy steps back as you grab the bracelet, and you pick it up and hand it to him. “I didn’t do it for you. Just so you know.”

And before he can respond, you turn and walk to the exit of the tent, only to stop short when Jasper, Octavia, and Clarke come running in. You step back as they pile in, and you don’t miss the scared expression on Jasper’s face. You turn to Clarke and ask, “What? What happened?”

She turns to Octavia and nods, and Octavia places a small bundle of cloth on the table, before pulling out a knife and using it to flip the cloth open, revealing two severed fingers. You inhale a sharp breath, full of shock, before leaning in to observe the fingers closer. You turn to Clarke, “Is it...are they...Wells?”

She gives a single nod, and you let out a whoosh of air, before picking up the knife to inspect it. “This knife was made of metal from the dropship.”

You pass it to Clarke, so she can look it over. Jasper’s voice is thick with fear when he asks, “What do you mean?”

“Who else knows about this?”

Octavia turns to Bellamy, “No one. We brought it straight here.”

Clarke lets out a soft sigh, “It means the Grounders didn’t kill Wells. It was one of us.”

“So, there’s a murderer in the camp?”

Bellamy gestures to the door of the tent, “There’s more than one murderer in this camp. This isn’t news. We need to keep it quiet.”

Clarke steps forward, towards the door, and Bellamy steps in her path. “Get out of my way, Bellamy.”

Bellamy holds his arms up in surrender, “Clarke, be smart about this. Look at what we’ve achieved… the wall, the patrols.”

You see annoyance flash over her features and you step forward and grab her arm. “He’s right, Clarke.” You see a look of surprise flash over Bellamy’s face, but you push on. “Putting this out there will only start a riot, cause chaos.”

She shakes her head, voice quieter. “That’s what mom told dad.” She lifts her eyes, expression hard. “Before she turned him in.”

You recoil, as if she slapped you. “This is not the same thing, Clarke. That was a ship full of people, governed by rules and regulations.” You point towards the camp, “This is a camp full of delinquent teenagers, who crave nothing more than chaos. You can’t give that to them.”

Bellamy adds, “Like it or not, thinking the Grounders killed Wells is good for us.”

Clarke ignores you and spins towards Bellamy. “Oh, good for you, you mean. What...keep people afraid and they’ll work for you? Is that it?"

“Yeah. That's it. But it’s good for all of us. Fear of the Grounders is building that wall. And besides, what are you gonna do…just walk out there and ask the killer to step forward? You don’t even know whose knife that is.”

She holds up the knife, flashing a set of initials. “Oh, really? J.M. John Murphy. The people have a right to know.”

She pushes past him and storms out of the tent, and you catch Bellamy’s eyes, both of you sharing a look of worry. You turn and follow Clarke out of the tent, the others right behind you, as she storms up to Murphy, shoving him hard. “You son of a bitch!”

Murphy lets out an amused laugh, “What’s your problem?”

“Recognize this?”

She holds up the knife and he shrugs, reaching for it, “It’s my knife. Where’d you find it?”

“Where you dropped it after you killed Wells.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, the camp falls eerily silent. The teenagers all stop working, and turn to watch the confrontation. You can sense the mood growing uneasy, and you turn to look at Bellamy, who’s lingering nearby with Octavia and Jasper.

Murphy balks at her accusation, and steps closer. “Where I what? The Grounders killed Wells, not me.”

“I know what you did, and you’re gonna pay for it.”

He smirks, nodding in disbelief. “Really?” You step closer, not liking the look on Murphy’s face, as his eyes flick over Clarke’s head and land on his leader. “Bellamy, you really believe this crap?”

You turn and watch as he says nothing, silently clenching his jaw and folding his arms tighter. Clarke pushes on, “You threatened to kill him. We all heard you. You hated Wells.”

“Plenty of people hated Wells. His father was the Chancellor that locked us up.”

She steps closer, leaving inches between her and Murphy. “Yeah, but you’re the only one who got in a knife fight with him.”

“Yeah, I didn’t kill him then, either.”

Octavia yells from behind Clarke, “Tried to kill Jasper, too.”

The camp falls into further silence, weighing the evidence. Murphy senses the shift in opinion, and doubles down on his defense. “Come on. This is ridiculous. I don’t have to answer to you. I don’t have to answer to anyone.”

Bellamy steps forward slightly, head tipped. “Come again?”

Murphy approaches Bellamy, “Bellamy, look, I’m telling you, man. I didn’t do this.”

“They found his fingers on the ground with your knife.”

Clarke stands in the center of the group, and addresses them all. “Is this the kind of society that we want? You say there should be no rules. Does that mean that we can kill each other without…without punishment?”

You feel the pulse of anger, and revenge, moving through the crowd, and you step closer to your sister, your voice a soft warning. “Clarke.”

She turns to you, about to answer, when Connor yells from the thick of the crowd, “I say we float him.”

A resounding chorus of agreement follows the proposition, and you watch as alarm flashes over Clarke’s face. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Why not? He deserves to float. It’s justice.”

Another chorus of agreement as Clarke yells, “Revenge isn’t justice.”

“It’s justice. Float him!” The group of teenagers all begin to chant, closing in on Murphy, before someone trips him and everyone descends upon him, kicking him and hitting him as they continue to chant.

You grab your twin and pull her away from the thick of the fight, as she screams, “No! Get off him! Let him go!”

The crowd gags Murphy and ties him up, before kicking him down a small hill, into a clearing. A sturdy branch stretches from one side of the clearing to the other, and the crowd tosses a rope over the branch, attaching it to Murphy. Clarke pulls free from your grasp and you follow her as she pushes her way to the front of the crowd, next to the Blake siblings. You all watch in horror as they string Murphy up, his feet precariously balancing on the edge of a container.

Clarke runs to Bellamy and shoves him, screaming, “You can stop this! They’ll listen to you!”

Connor turns to him, “Bellamy! You should do it.”

The group starts to chant his name, and you can see his resolve weaken second by second. You step over to him, pushing Clarke out of the way, and try to reason with him. “I saw you with Atom. I know you’re not a killer, Bellamy.”

He looks over at Murphy, the crowd still chanting, and you see him make the decision before he even moves. You and Clarke grab his arm and yell his name, but he shakes you both off and stalks over to Murphy, who is begging for his life. Bellamy takes one last look at him and kicks the container from beneath Murphy’s feet, leaving him to hang to death.

Clarke screams and pushes him again, and you grab her and pull her back as she yells at him. “No, Bellamy, no! How could you?!”

He closes the distance and gets in her face, “This is on you! You should’ve kept your mouth shut.”

Before she can answer, Finn’s voice breaks through the crowd, “What the hell are you doing? Cut him down!” He grabs Charlotte, who has been watching the whole thing. “Charlotte, get out of here now!”

Finn tries to get close and cut Murphy down, but Connor pulls a knife on him and stops him in place. Clarke launches herself towards Finn, to protect him, and you try to grab her.

Suddenly, a small voice calms the chaotic crowd. “Stop! Okay? Murphy didn’t kill Wells! I did!"

Everyone stills, frozen in place, and you look from Charlotte, to your twin, to Bellamy, all in shock, before jumping into action and grabbing the axe from Bellamy’s belt, cutting Murphy down. As he hits the ground, Finn and Clarke run to him and cut him free of the ropes and binds, and you move back to Bellamy to return the axe. His eyes are still locked on Charlotte, completely still with shock. You see the crowd start to turn towards her, and you nudge him. “Bellamy, we have to protect her.”

He nods and jogs towards Charlotte and you follow, as he leads you both into the tent. Seconds later, Clarke and Finn rush in, looking worried. Finn mutters, “Murphy is getting restless.”

You hear him yell from outside, “Bring out the girl, Bellamy!”

Bellamy glances in the direction of Murphy’s voice, and then looks back at Charlotte, fear in his eyes. “Why, Charlotte?”

Her voice is small, quiet. “I was just trying to slay my demons, like you told me.”

You let out a sigh and Clarke turns on Bellamy, “What the hell is she talking about?”

“She misunderstood me.” He turns to look at the small girl, “Charlotte, that is not what I meant.”

Murphy’s voice reaches the tent, louder than before. “Bring the girl out now!”

“Please don’t let them hurt me.” The fear in her voice makes you step closer to her, feeling protective. And you assure her quietly, “We won’t, Charlotte. I promise.”

Bellamy looks between Finn and Clarke, “If you guys have any bright ideas, speak up.” They both look around, worried, but stay silent. “Now you stay quiet.”

Finn snaps at Bellamy, “Those are your boys out there.”

“This is not my fault! If she had listened to me, those idiots would still be building the wall.”

Outside, Murphy’s voice is louder, and angrier. “You want to build a society, princess? Let’s build a society. Bring her out.”

Charlotte turns to look at Bellamy, her eyes wide with fear. “No! Please, Bellamy.”

You swear you can visibly see his heart melt, and he kneels down to her level. “Charlotte, hey, it’s gonna be okay. Just stay with them.”

And then he gives you one last look before stepping out of the tent. You look between Finn and Clarke, and move closer to your sister. “Clarke, you have to protect her.”

She nods, but you aren’t sure she hears you, the stress of the situation weighing on her heavily. You turn to Finn instead, and find him lost in thought. “Finn.” He looks up at you and you continue, “You and Clarke have to get her out of here.”

You can hear Murphy yelling outside, but you aren’t paying attention well enough to understand him. Finn nods, “I have a plan.”

“Okay. When I step out, slip out of the back of the tent. The brush is thick enough that it should conceal you so you can sneak out of camp.”

You start to step away, but Clarke grabs you. “You aren’t coming with us?”

“No, I’m going to buy you some time.” She hesitates but releases you, and you step back to the front of the tent. “Stay safe.”

You step out of the tent as Murphy is mid rant. “So, it’s okay to string me up for nothing, but when this little bitch confesses, you all let her walk?”

You come to walk past Bellamy and up to Murphy, leaving some distance between you. “The difference is, Murphy, that you’re an asshole. No one cares that you murdered Wells, they just cared that they had a reason to get revenge.”

He steps towards you, closing the space you left, and you repress the fear in your body, trying to focus on anger instead. You think about being locked up, and your dad’s death, and your mom’s betrayal, channeling it as Murphy bites back, “You know, princess, I wouldn’t mind hanging you in her place.”

You step closer, your noses now practically touching, and smirk. “I’d like to see you try.” You hear rustling in the tent, and from the corner of your eye, you see Bellamy shifting, because he heard it too. You know you have to push Murphy over the line to keep him distracted. You nod towards the crowd, “They may hate me because of my family, but they hate you because you’re the scum of the earth.”

Murphy lets out a dry laugh and appraises you, before he pulls his head back and slams it forward, crashing it into your nose. You let out a cry of pain and stagger backwards, seeing stars, and already feeling the warm rush of blood from your nose. You can hear Bellamy walking towards you and you turn to him, holding up a hand. “Don’t.”

You can see him weighing his options, but it only takes you a few seconds to recover, before you take off running towards Murphy, and pounce on him. The impact sends you both flying to the ground, and you lean back enough to land a punch on his face. He returns a blow to your cheekbone with his elbow, knocking you off of him, before he stands and delivers a kick to your ribs. Your breath leaves your body in a quick whoosh, and you curl into yourself, groaning in pain as you hear Octavia screaming and Bellamy yelling as he lunges at Murphy, grabbing him. “Hey, Murphy! Murphy. It’s over.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Bellamy releases Murphy and turns around, walking towards you, but he barely takes three steps before Murphy grabs a log and hits him with it, knocking him to the ground beside you. Octavia screams out in anger and lunges towards Murphy, but Jasper steps between them, only to get punched in the face. Murphy’s posse holds them back as he lifts the flap of the tent, and yells out, “Son of a bitch! Charlotte! Charlotte, I know you can hear me! And when I find you, you are gonna pay!”

He turns to his group, looking at the rest of the teenagers in disgust. “Come on.”

They release their hold on Jasper and Octavia, who both come running to you and Bellamy. Octavia falls to her knees beside her brother, who waves off her concern with a groan. “I’m fine, check on her.”

Octavia turns to you and looks at your injuries before muttering to Jasper, “Help me get her up.”

They haul you to your feet and you wince, as they pull you towards the dropship and settle you into a chair. Monty comes running over at the sight of you, looking between Octavia and Jasper. “What happened?”

You mutter, “Murphy happened,” and Monty nods in understanding. Octavia returns with a pile of rags and water, and they clean the blood from your nose, while you protest, “I’m fine, honestly. It looks worse than it feels.”

Octavia gives you a look, and turns to Jasper. “We need more water, can you help me get some?”

He agrees and follows her dutifully, leaving you alone with Monty. You stand and walk to the dropship door, ignoring the pain in your ribs, and manage to catch sight of a curly head of black hair leaving the perimeter of the camp. You look around and find a pack at your feet, before stuffing a few things inside. A rope, a knife, some extra bandages, and you take off running from the dropship, ignoring Monty’s protests behind you. You keep to the perimeter of the camp, avoiding curious eyes, and follow the same path Bellamy just took.

It only takes a few minutes for you to find him, as he quietly jogs in and out of trees, following some unseen trail. An hour into you following him, as darkness begins to fall, you step on a branch, and he spins around, knife drawn. You freeze in place, and when he recognizes you, he lets out a sigh and lower the weapons. “You have a thing for following people, don’t you?

You shrug and close the space between you, “They don't call me the invisible twin for nothing.”

He smiles a little and starts walking again, leaving you in a surprisingly companionable silence. As the sun sets further and the darkness becomes more pressing, you sink deeper and deeper into your thoughts, still trying to process everything from the last few days, until you blurt out, “It wasn’t his fault.”

Bellamy’s brows pull together in confusion, and you clarify. “Wells didn’t turn my dad in, like I thought he did. It was my mom.”

He lets out a quiet breath, but says nothing, not quite sure what to say. “I never really knew who to blame for my dad’s death. I was already locked up when it happened.” You see a flash of a memory as you run down the corridor, failing to make it in time. You shake it away and push on, “I started out in solitary, so no one ever told me anything, except…”

You cut yourself off, and Bellamy glances at you, “Except who?”

“No one.” You look up at him, “It was kind of nice to have someone to blame and hold responsible. Except, I spent all this time hating someone who didn’t even deserve it.”

You touch the moon around your neck, drawing comfort from it, and you catch Bellamy’s eyes following the action. He says nothing, remembering the last time he asked. This time though, your vulnerability gets the better of you. “It was from my dad. We all have one, me, Clarke, our mom, but they’re all different. Dad always said mom was the center of his world, his sun. Clarke was like the stars, always shining, always bright, always there.” You look up at the sky, finding the Ark blinking amongst the stars. You let out a shaky breath, and your voice comes out softer than before, “I was his little la lune.”

Bellamy’s voice is as soft as yours when he asks, “Clair de lune, is that what you were humming to Atom?”

You smile a little, impressed he recognized the song. “Yes. He used to sing it to me when I was upset or didn’t feel well. Do you know it?”

He shakes his head, and his curls bounce against his face. “Not well, only in passing. But I thought I recognized it.”

You continue wandering through the woods in silence, keeping an eye out for Charlotte or Murphy, when the sound of footsteps grows closer. Bellamy grabs your arm and pulls you behind a tree, out of sight. Then he creeps forward as the footsteps slow and then stop near the tree, before grabbing them. You hear Charlotte scream out once, before Bellamy muffles her mouth with his hand, and you step from behind the tree, into her line of sight.

Nearby, you can hear yelling from Murphy and his posse, and you exchange a worried glance with Bellamy. He takes Charlotte’s arm and starts to pull her away from the yelling, and you follow close behind. She screams and protests, trying to pull herself free from his grip. “Let me go!”

He turns on her, “We’re trying…hey, hey. We’re trying to help you!”

“I’m not your sister! Just stop helping me!” She bites back, before running towards the glow of light from Murphy’s group, “I’m over here!”

You manage to grab her and pull her back, asking, “Are you trying to get us all killed?”

“Just go, okay? I’m the one they want.”

Bellamy steps up and kneels to her height, “Okay, Charlotte, listen to me. I won’t leave you.” He glances over at you, “We won’t leave you.”

She seems to soften as she looks at him, “Please, Bellamy.” And in a split second, she pushes Bellamy away, screaming, “Murphy! I’m over here!”

Bellamy runs after her and grabs her, tossing her over his shoulder, he yells at you, “Let’s go!” And you take off running through the woods, as Charlotte screams for Murphy, alerting him to your location. As you tear through the trees, branches smacking you and tripping over unseen obstacles, you hope more than anything you’ll all make it out of this alive. As you step through the line of trees and into a clearing, Bellamy stops quickly and sets Charlotte down, muttering, “Damn it.”

As you move closer, you realize you aren’t in a clearing at all, you’re all on the edge of a cliff. As you all peer out over the edge, Murphy steps through the trees. “Bellamy!” You all spin around, as the rest of his group moves into sight. “You can’t fight all of us. Give her up.”

“Maybe not, but I guarantee I’ll take a few of you with me.”

He steps forward and you follow suit, pulling Charlotte safely behind you. Clarke and Finn run through the trees, before Clarke stops between the two groups. “This has gone too far. Just calm down. We’ll talk about this.”

Murphy glances at Charlotte for a second before suddenly grabbing Clarke and pulling her to him, lifting a knife to her throat. “I’m sick of listening to you talk.”

You step forward, and you see Finn do the same, as you beg, “Let her go."

Murphy holds the knife up to you, then Finn. "I will slit her throat."

Charlotte cries from behind you, “No, please! Please don’t hurt her.”

“Don’t hurt her? Okay, I’ll make you a deal. You come with me right now, I will let her go.”

You watch as Bellamy steps in front of Charlotte, protecting her, and Clarke yells to Charlotte, “Don’t do it, Charlotte!”

You stand between them, feeling conflicted, as Charlotte screams at Bellamy for holding her back, and Clarke stands beside you with a knife at her throat. You turn to Bellamy, practically begging with your eyes for him to fix this and save your twin as Charlotte screams, “I have to!”

Bellamy spins and levels a glare at Murphy, “Murphy, this is not happening.”

A quiet voice shakes and mutters, “I can’t let any of you get hurt anymore. Not because of me. Not after what I did.”

You watch the muscles in her body twitch before she starts to turn, and you all lunge towards her, screaming her name, as she jumps off the cliff. You all reach the edge as she falls, disappearing from view, tears streaming down your faces.

Bellamy recovers first, standing and spinning towards Murphy with a look of animalistic rage. Murphy senses the danger he’s in and starts, “Bellamy!”

He lunges at Murphy the same way you had hours before, delivering punch after punch to Murphy’s face. You and Clarke stand, and she screams, “Bellamy, stop! You’ll kill him!”

Finn pulls Bellamy away, before Clarke steps between them. Bellamy yells, “He deserves to die.”

“No! We don’t decide who lives and dies. Not down here.”

You all glance at Murphy, bleeding on the ground, and he closes in on Clarke. “So help me God, if you say the people have a right to decide…”

“No! I was wrong before, okay?” She glances at you, then Bellamy, “You were both right. Sometimes it’s dangerous to tell people the truth. But if we’re gonna survive down here, we can’t just live by whatever the hell we want. We need rules.”

Bellamy scrubs his face, frustrated, “And who makes those rules, huh? You?”

“For now, we make the rules. Okay?”

Bellamy points at Murphy, “So, what, then? We just take him back and pretend like it never happened?”

“No” She glances back at him, thinking, before deciding, “We banish him.”

Bellamy glances at Clarke, then Finn, then you, before pulling Murphy to his feet, and to the edge of the cliff. “If I ever catch you near camp, we’ll be back here. Understand?” He tosses Murphy back on the ground, before turning to the posse, “As for the four of you, you can come back and follow me, or go off with him to die. Your choice.”

He turns to you, waiting for you to lead the way. Surprised, you step forward and he follows, before everyone else falls in line behind you. The walk back to camp is mostly quiet, save for the conversation regarding how to tell the others about Murphy’s banishment.

As soon as you are all back, everyone is gathered for a meeting and told of the banishment. With no objections, the meeting is over as quickly as it began, and you turn to Bellamy. “I wanted to tell you earlier, that-”

You’re cut off by two girls bounding over to Bellamy, and wrapping themselves around him. “Bellamy, we’ve been waiting for you all day.”

The other girl pouts, “Yeah, you said if we were good today, you’d reward us.”

Your brows raise in surprise, and you watch as Bellamy opens his mouth to say something. Feeling weirdly jealous, you give him a single nod. “Night, Bellamy.”

Embarrassed, you make it back to your tree in record time, and scale the branches until you reach your favorite. Once you’re settled, you lean back to contemplate your evolved relationship with Bellamy, trying to decipher your feelings.

On the one hand, he’s an asshole, who mocked my assault. But he was so sweet with Charlotte. And he stepped back to let me lead the way back to camp earlier, almost like a show of respect. But he’s also a dick.

Your thoughts turn in circles, never quite landing on a solid conclusion, and you fall asleep unsure of anything other than the fact you were jealous of the two girls in the tent, and you hated yourself for it.

next chapter

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake x y/n #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction

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lunasilvermorny · 4 years

Text

The Summer of Muggles

It’s finally here - and it was all my idea!

Kidding...

First of all - I’m so glad to see that anyone is that invested in anything related to my headcanon ^^ So thanks anon for giving me the motivation to finally make that post!

That being said...Here’s the thing.

When I made the "Summer of Muggles", it was just something I made for myself, to figure things out, so it involved zero research. And as someone who's never personally been to the UK, I probably got a lot of things wrong and Americanized the hell out of everything. Anyway, for me to post it, I need to do a proper research and I'm just not invested enough in it to dedicate the time and energy that will make it happen.

That means that the full thing will just stay as something I wrote for myself.

However...!

I can summarize it for you. (and by summarize, I mean - make a very long and detailed post about it.)

(I realized that the drawing I made about the Summer of Muggles is almost a year old, so I’ve decided to redraw it... It’s really encouraging to see how much I’ve improved since last year.)

0. Introduction:

For Luna's 14th birthday (it's in December, so she was still in her 4th year), her mother bought her a car that Luna named Oliver. Luna's muggle grandma has taught her how to drive (the first time she let her sit behind the wheel was when she was only 8 y.o.!), and she really loves muggle technology in general, so it was the perfect gift for her.

When Luna came back for the summer vacation between her 4th and 5th year, she's decided to go on a road trip across the UK with Oliver. The car had a magical protection that prevented muggle-cops from approaching it, so Luna was able to drive around without a license. She also looked older than she was (mostly because of her height), so she didn't draw any attention to herself whenever she got in and out of the car.

She drove around, especially next to coastlines, parked next to beaches and slept in the car. During her trip she met many muggles, but a selected few actually traveled with her for a portion of it.

You can divide her trip into 4 major sections:

The first week (the adjustment period)

The end of July

The first three days of August

The rest of August

Okay, let’s dive in!

----

1. The first week (around mid-July)

She spent most of the time getting used to sleep in her car and go to public places for basic needs like food, bathroom, laundry etc.

The most memorable event during this week was when she met a group of people that were on their way to a rock-concert when their car broke down. So she gave them a ride and in return they've sneaked her in.

----

2. The end of July

That's when she met Pete and Lynn - fraternal twins that just finished high school and wanted to have a small taste of freedom before going to uni. She met them while she stumbled across a forest party for their graduation.

Most people there were too wasted to notice her, but they saw her almost immediately and started a conversation with her. So they drank, danced and talked for hours. They were also the only muggles that figured out she's a witch. (Well, almost... you’ll see why in the next section.) Lynn has noticed her wand and they told her that their little sister is also a witch that just finished her first year at Hogwarts. After the party was interrupted by the cops, Lynn and Pete asked her if they can join her for the trip, and without any second though she agreed.

They mostly went to parties and got drunk in different places for the rest of the month, and had a lot of fun together.

3. The first three days of August

After arriving at a small town and sitting in the local pub, Luna’s identity as a witch was discovered and she had to use Obliviate on the muggles in the pub to keep it a secret. Because they were in the middle or nowhere essentially, a wizard from the Ministry of Magic arrived shortly after to see if a minor used magic there. Luna, Lynn and Pete hid in the car, and once the wizard got in the pub, drove away in a hurry.

Knowing that she needs a strong alibi in case they found out it was her that used magic, Luna left Lynn and Pete with Oliver next to a small forest outside of the town and flew in her owl form to her parents’ house, but when she saw that the wizard got there before her and was already talking to her father, she's decided to fly to the Weasleys instead. She got there in the middle of the night and woke up Bill to ask for his help.

In the early morning the wizard from the Ministry arrived at the Weasleys’ house and was greeted by Luna and Bill, although Mrs. Weasley joined them shortly after he got there. When she saw her son was telling the wizard that Luna has been staying there for more than a week and never left their house, she supported their story, even before she was sure why they're lying about it.

The wizard said that he found a letter addressed to her in the pub (oh right, I forgot to mention that while in the pub, Charlie Brown showed up with a letter from Rowan, and with the whole fuss surrounding her being a witch, she hasn’t noticed when she dropped it.) but Luna kept insisting she was never there.

The wizard left eventually and Luna found out later on that her father made the problem “disappear” and that's why she got away with it.

She stayed there for a couple of hours and gave Mrs. Weasley a not-really-convincing explanation for what happened, but Mrs. Weasley chose to trust her eldest son and his reasons for helping her.

Luna flew back to the road outside the small town where she's left Lynn and Pete with her car, but when she got to the exact spot, they weren’t there anymore. She's spent the rest of the morning searching for them in both her human and owl forms and when she couldn't, she went to a small pub on the side of the road to get some rest. The pub was empty aside for the bartender - Michael, a 20-something y.o. bloke that ran his parents' business when they got too old to do it themselves.

They talked and bonded, and eventually he offered her to sleep in his flat on the second floor, because she looked too exhausted to keep looking for them. But she barely got half an hour of sleep before she's decided to keep searching, and Michael offered to help her. She knew she'd be better off searching in her owl form, but he looked determined to help her, so they've searched together for a few hours. Around noon Luna thanked him for his help but said she preferred to keep searching alone, so she had the chance to cover more ground in her owl form.

Toward the evening she started to lose hope and took a quick nap on a bench in a random bus stop, before she was interrupted by an old lady and her son. She almost lost her wand, but the old lady gave it to her just before she left again.

She kept searching for a few more hours and just before she lost all hope, she went once more to the place where she had left them in the first place and to her surprise, found Lynn sitting next to a tree a few meters from the car.

Lynn told Luna that Pete and her had a huge fight and he's decided to go to Wales alone (because that's where they were heading) and Lynn went to a nearby town to sleep, but got stuck with the car because the gas ran out, and by the time she got back to the same point, Luna already gave up on the idea that they might still be there.

When Luna suggested they should just keep going, Lynn told her she's too tried and they both went back to Michael's pub to get some rest. But instead of sleeping they've spent the entire night drinking and talking with him and when Lynn finally fell asleep around dawn, Michael asked Luna to join them on their trip, since Pete’s spot has opened.

4. The rest of August

The three had great chemistry and spent most of the time like before- partying and drinking, only that with Michael there, they also went camping more. Lynn and Michael almost became a thing, which made being around them awkward, then it didn't work out, which made being around them even more awkward, but after a few days it went back to normal.

They went to the northernmost point in Scotland before they turned back to England, but kept driving past London and went to the southernmost point in England. There they met Connor, a rich young bloke that celebrated his financial freedom with a huge party on the beach.

During the night he made a very negative impression on Luna and Michael, but after he sobered up in the morning he offered them to come visit him in Brighton, where he'll make it up to him. Michael was against it, but both Luna and Lynn were intrigued and they've decided it will be the last place they visit before they head back home.

They partied with Connor for a few days and Lynn's decided to stay with Connor, while Luna and Michael headed toward London.

Luna dropped him at the train station and planned to go home, but when she stood outside of her house, already prepared to open the door and get in, she's decided that she wanted to get a proper goodbye from Pete as well and flew to his aunt's house in Wales.

Pete was surprised by the strange owl that knocked on the window, and even more surprised when it turned into Luna. He hugged her and apologized for leaving without a saying anything, and just said that he and Lynn had a huge fight and he couldn't stay there with her anymore. He refused to get into the details but showed concern for his sister’s safety and reassured Luna that they tend to have huge fights like this a lot and they'll make up "sometime soon."

After that Luna really went back home - and that's the end of the Summer of Muggles.

If you think that was long, the original post was ~30 pages long in MS Word, so... I actually summarized it. (Who know I was capable of it? Not me.)

#my headcanon #hphm headcanon #luna silver #luna kateřina silver #pete and lynn #the summer of muggles #harry potter #ocs #original characters

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girlofmanyfandoms · 4 years

Text

A/n: Next chapter is out! This one has a lot of setting up of the future plot points, it’ll be fun if y’all can pinpoint it. If the next chapter takes too long, I’ll post more of “The Plot out of context,” if it’s wanted!

Key:

Tater - @a-lonely-tatertot

Lynn - @lesbilynnette

Gray - @silver-snow

Lilah - @tribblemakingalicorn

Cadence - me

Ivy - @imaramennoodle

Molly - @molly-sencen

Farris - @everyonehasthoughts

Speens - @an-absolute-travesty

Holes - @holesinmyfalseconfidence

Connor - @linhammon-roll-bromance101

Panda - @worldwidepandamonium

Meg - @ultralazycreatorfan

Word count: 2,740

Warnings: Nothing makes sense.

“Lynn, can you have the next shipment of the Gatorade sent to my address in Peru?”

“Farris, what did you do now?”

“Nothing!” They grinned nervously.

“I swear if you moved to Peru just so you could buy an alpaca, I will-”

“It’s not that, I swear! Well, not just that. Boss called and said I have to be at the excavation site by tomorrow, that it might be a big break.” Farris scoffed. “As if. Last time, the only thing I found with my metal detector was someone’s Betty Boop keychain.”

“Yeah, I can ship them there,” Lynn sighed, exhausted from a night of getting a deal with the investor and setting prices for the products. “And that’s crazy.”

“I know right?” Farris answered. “Betty Boop? When was this person born, the 1950s?”

“That’s not- yeah, you’re right, Farris.” Lynn changed her sentence halfway through. “Any word back from Panda?”

“Yeah, Panda got back to me. Said that her sign is a Scorpio.”

“What?”

“Exactly, who would’ve thought Panda was-”

“Farris, you were supposed to ask about the chain restaurant idea!” Lynn massaged her forehead. “Why did we agree to be partners?”

“Because I threatened to blackmail you,” they responded, taking a bite out of an apple. “And I did ask about that. The zodiac sign was probably the question I wrote on my arm so I wouldn’t forget.”

“And?”

“She said the chain restaurant idea is a good thing to look into, as soon as we can make a good menu, hire some staff, good prices, nice locations, accessibility, y’know, all that jazz.”

“Because that’s so simple.” Lynn sighed, shuffling through the paperwork that had accumulated within the past week. “Alright, tell you what, I’ll get an artist to make an ad, maybe a social networker, I’ll set up a blog and we get the word out. As soon as you get back from the gig, you call me, alright?”

“Yup,” they agreed. “Oh, and Connor just texted saying he needs your help. I told him to wait ‘til I got back so I could teach him how to properly rollerblade, but the kid’s a madlad.”

“Anything broken?”

“His sanity.”

“Farris.”

“And a lot of furniture.”

“Guess I’ll have to find out for myself, huh?”

“You sure will.”

“Alright, I’m checking in with the supplier. Talk later?”

“Cheerio, mate,” Farris grinned, saluting her before ending the call.

Lynn opened her laptop and emailed her supplier, who had requested to remain anonymous. This was fine though, identities shouldn’t be known when dealing with the black market and pyramid schemes. Lynn was fine with using her real name because of her position as co-founder of Forbidden Incorporated. If she was going to go deviant, she’ll be damned if she didn’t do it with style.

_________

Cadence’s phone buzzed, as an email from a client had just arrived.

“Forks do not work with ice cream,” Tater yelled for the umpteenth time.

Holes clutched their head in a mixture of disappointment and annoyance. “Why would you use a spoon? It’s not soup, you can’t just spoon it out!”

“Then pop it in the microwave for a few seconds, for fu-”

“Crank it down 12 notches,” Molly suggested.

“-for Pete’s sake,” Tater acknowledged Molly. “And didn’t you just eat an entire bag of flamin’ hot Cheetos in one sitting?”

“They were good! And I’m fine,” Molly insisted. “Sure, we’re out of milk, and I have strep throat, but I just took a shower and I don’t think I’m gonna pass out just yet.”

Tater and Holes pulled out a Lysol can, masks, gloves, and a plexiglass barricade within seconds, clearly getting flashbacks from 2020. Cadence wasn’t paying attention, as usual, and kept writing her response to the email.

“Relax,” Molly laughed, clearly not finding it strange that they had those on hand at least a decade later. “I got my antibiotics, it’s not contagious anymore. And hey, good news: I made a questionable decision, and that’s also not contagious.”

They threw the equipment behind them, seemingly into the abyss, and relaxed a bit.

“Ok, now to address the real problem,” Holes started. “Who is Pete and why are we doing everything for his sake?”

“Oh my gods, it’s an expression, Holes,” Tater sighed.

“No, no, Holes, is onto something,” Molly said, grabbing the detective hat Lynn had designed for her and putting it on. “And I intend to find out.”

“Cadence, please make it two against two,” Tater pleaded.

Cadence glanced up from her phone. “What’s happening?”

“Oh my- you know what, I should’ve expected that, considering the Paint Water incident.”

“Ok, the Paint Water Incident was ONE TIME!”

“The what?” Holes looked interested.

“We don’t talk about it,” Cadence chimed in. “Think of it as the Great Gulon Incident of our group.”

“Great,” Holes sighed. “Another mystery. You’re all high.”

“I was fully aware of what I was doing in that incident.”

“Even better,” Holes commented dryly. “Nevermind, I don’t need to know.”

“Besides, there are great puzzles to be solved,” Molly continued enthusiastically. “Onward! We must scavenge for our first clue of Pete’s identity.”

Tater closed her eyes, telling her conscience to shove it for a moment. “Where do we start, Detective?”

Holes raised their eyebrows.

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” Tater shrugged.

Molly looked at Holes in expectation. “Alright, fine,” Holes caved. “But I’m taking Cadence with us, I’m not going crazy alone.”

“That ship has sailed for both of us,” Cadence commented, not looking up from her phone.

“Yeah, haha, very funny. Let’s check out the corner opposite of the one they’re searching.” Holes paused, waiting for them to be out of earshot. “We don’t have to do anything, just pretend to search, I’ll be watching to make sure they don’t get killed.”

Cadence looked down at the email from her client. A shipping of 500 bottles, and 3,000 containers of newer products. And to Peru? Why had they changed the shipping address? She sighed. It was going to be a long day.

________

Connor’s house was on fire. Connor’s house was on fire. Why was Connor’s house on fire, you ask? Well, if you need to ask, you clearly haven’t met him. Lynn gazed at the sight in front of her tiredly, not knowing how she hadn’t expected this to happen.

Speens was calmly watering the bushes surrounding the house, not giving a second thought about putting out the fire with the water they had.

Lilah appeared beside Lynn, startling her. “Oh, good, you came. Gray has been trying to help Connor stand up for the past 30 minutes, but he’s way too drunk and he keeps refusing to ditch the rollerblades. Oh yeah, and his house is on fire.”

“About that, how’d it happen?”

“He was rollerblading on the stair railings when he fell onto their lamp, which tilted over and fell onto the seance that he was holding earlier in the day so the candles fell onto the hardwood floor, and then he spilled vodka everywhere, and then the flames turned blue, so here we are,” Lilah recounted all in one breath. “It’s kinda beautiful to be honest.”

“Beautiful isn't the word I would use to describe it,” Speens called. “It’s interfering with the plants. Well, except for Suzy, she’s a stubborn one. She wouldn’t burn, and believe me, I tried to make her.”

“I believe you,” Lynn said, quite understandingly. She had seen Speens around on the Deep Web, but had respected their secret. They all had secrets, after all.

Lynn walked inside where the hose was already uncoiled and ready to be used. Connor, however, was clinging to Gray’s leg. “NO, DON’T USE A HOSE, THE HOUSE DOESN’T LIKE SHOWERS.”

“Connor, the house is an inanimate object, it does not care,” Gray told him, trying to get control of the fire in the kitchen.

Connor gasped. “How DARE you talk to Cynthia like that?! She deserves better!” He crawled over to a wall that was, inevitably, about to burn down, and he stroked it. “You’re gonna be okay, sweetie. Don’t listen to the mean person, they’re just a hater.”

Gray shook their head and sighed. “Hey, Lynn. Can you increase the water pressure?”

Lynn did so, much to Connor’s dismay. To make up for it, Lynn handed Connor a piece of a floorboard that had undoubtedly been broken into pieces when they fell off of the stairs. He hugged the floorboard close to his face, crying happy tears, not thinking about the possibility of splinters. Lynn was confused, but had a feeling she would need him as an ally soon, and this was the best way to start.

Lynn babysat Connor as Gray put out the fire. When they had finished, none of the house had fallen down. It was weaker, and very charred, but somehow it hadn’t fallen.

Gray reached behind them and pulled out a ladder and a blueprint covering the new design of Connor’s structurally damaged home. Everyone had become acquainted with such things being summoned when needed. “Alright, I got the materials in the car, but we need to fix this house, er, Cynthia, up.”

“Renovating a house, huh,” Lynn muttered. “Better than spending all day dealing with paperwork. But if I’m going to help you and Connor, I’m going to need both of your help. So, how about an offer?”

Gray narrowed their eyes. “What would that offer entail?”

“Well, for you, Gray, I’d need help renovating a certain building. We’re talking about new elevators, knocking down walls, putting up new ones, new furniture, everything businessy. As for you, Connor,” Lynn paused, waiting for him to look at her. “I need a spy. You don’t have to be sober, but you have to keep them talking alright?”

“I’m feelin’ woozy,” Connor giggled.

“Can you overhear what people say and report back to me when you hear something important despite the wooziness?”

“Yup, and I can be a skater dude, too,” he grinned goofily. “We can all live our dReAmS.”

“Well, I’m in,” Gray said, helping Connor lay down. “I’ll certainly need a team for that building of yours, but I’m in. I can’t repair a house on my own anyway.”

Lynn nodded. A team, huh? For that she needed customers, crazy, loyal, and determined enough to support her products. She had a few people in mind who might be able to deliver.

______

“Meg, you got the snacks?” Ivy called over her shoulder, setting up the gaming consoles. They had finally stopped procrastinating and organized a group hangout between Speens, Ivy, and Meg, making it a game night. Ivy brought the video games, Speens brought the hands-on games, and Meg was in charge of snacks.

“Yup,” she smiled, wheeling in a wagon of junk food. “Anything you could want, it’s here. What games you got?”

“Rocket League, Mario Kart, only the best of the best. How about you, Speens?”

“Uno, Jenga, Connect Four, Scrabble, Twister, Monopoly, you name it, I got it. Where do you want to start? Virtual or hands on?”

“Virtual, I guess,” Meg decided. “Haven’t played in a while, ever since a pigeon yeeted my controller out of a window.”

Ivy tilted her head, asking for an explanation.

“T’was like a message from an angry god,” Meg said wistfully, resting her head in her hands. “A god who preached ‘live, laugh, yeehaw, and stop playing The Last of Us 2 because it’s a trash game.’”

“Are you on drugs?” Ivy looked sincere.

“I mean, I wrote ‘gay’ and ‘yeehaw’ all over my dad’s truck, and later that night I had a dream about falling in love with the sister of this prince that I had to stop from destroying everything at exactly 12 AM, but I don’t think that’s what you’re looking for.”

“No, that answered my question,” Ivy said, setting up the board out while the sunset shined brightly onto their faces in the cool evening light.

Meg chose the monster truck token. “Refresh my memory, how do you play again?”

“It’s literally just capitalism for kids, and I am above you mere mortals,” Speens helped, choosing the rubber duck token, and taking a Snickers and KitKat from Meg’s snack wagon. What happened next was ungodly. Speens opened the KitKat bar and ate it. Without. Separating. The Bars.

Ivy reeled back in horror, and Meg hid behind her, terrified of the scene going on before their eyes.

“What?” Speens finished the chocolate and wiped their hands with a tissue. “Are we going to play this game or not?”

“Oh no,” Ivy said, pulling her hair slightly. “You don’t get to gloss over that. The Forbidden Spicy Gatorade is for all of us to share and enjoy once we get our hands on it, but you never, never, disrespect the KitKat bar.”

Speens scoffed. “You’re really going to dwell on that?”

“Going to dwell- I can’t even-“ Ivy took a deep breath to steady herself. “I will not allow this in my house. So you know what? Let’s raise the stakes. We need this Monopoly game to be a game-changer.”

Speens narrowed their eyes. “What are you saying? You’re betting something?”

“Yup. If I win, you have to wear a hoodie that says “I love Holes” and you have to help me with a plan of mine. If you win, I’ll help you get revenge on someone.”

“And if I win,” Meg continued. “Y’all owe me a lifetime’s supply of fro-yo and you both have to agree to each other’s bet deals.”

“Deal from my end,” Ivy pitched in, selecting the top hat token. The other two agreed, and the game commenced.

By 3 o’clock in the morning, Ivy had been in jail 17 times, and Speens had one hotel left. With a few lucky turns, Speens was bankrupt.

Ivy smirked, having a good feeling about this. “I call upon the power of the almighty Top Hat!”

“Oh, don’t look so smug, Ives,” Speens scowled, opening their suitcase of vodka and pouring their version of two shots. “You can still lose to Meg, and she bet a lot.”

“True, but in reality, would you rather lose to Meg or me?” Ivy flashed a grin. “The hoodie’s in my room, by the way. Don’t worry- it’s washed!”

Sighing, Speens went to retrieve the hoodie. A deal’s a deal, after all. When they returned, they looked ready to kill someone. They wore a baggy bright pink hoodie with “I Love Holes!” spelled in purple glitter. “You better win this, Meg.”

Meg stuffed a hand in her bag of snacks and nodded. Ivy’s turn was next, and it brought Meg down to $100. Speens muttered something under her breath and waved her hand in an elaborate motion. Seconds later, a loud crash was heard, followed by the breaking of glass and the sound of spraying water.

Ivy frowned. “What was that?”

“Go check,” Speens suggested.

Ivy looked out of the kitchen window to see… no window. The top of a fire hydrant had come bursting off of its mounted position and had crashed through her window. “No!” She frantically ran to the street to assess the damage from outside.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Speens stirred their beverage casually. “She’s not looking, you can win this.”

“Even if it means you always have to pay for my fro-yo?”

Speens shrugged. “Beats having her win. Besides, I’ll eat just as much fro-yo as you do if I’m paying for it.”

Meg went through the cards quickly, ignored whatever magic just went on. With a lifetime supply of such an other-worldly snack, who wouldn’t? Meg found her card just in time, as Ivy came back in, looking surprisingly calm.

“I boarded up the window, insurance will cover it,” she explained. “Your turn, Meg.”

Meg pulled the card she had placed on top of the pile and made her move. She had done it. Ivy was bankrupt. Not only that, but she was going insane. She flipped the board, sending everything tumbling into the depths of her house.

“How did you- you had no chance-”

“Breath, princess,” Speens joked. “I know what’ll take your mind off of this: some good old fashioned revenge on an old rival of mine. Whaddaya say, pal?”

“This day could not get any worse,” Ivy whined.

Except it could. And it did.

The electricity cut out and Ivy let out an ear-piercing screech.

__________

A/n: Not my favorite chapter, but I have some freaking PLANS for the next ones. Stay tuned! And if I made any errors, let me know because I can’t sit still for more than 5 minutes, so I only corrected a few things.

#Forbidden Spicy Gatorade #Forbidden Spicy Gatorade Chronicles #the next chapter is where the real fun begins

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connorandersons-blog · 4 years

Text

To the Library

Rating: Explicit Word count: 5,095 Warnings: smut Ship: Markus/Connor AU: Human Chapter 4/5

------------------------

He didn't want to leave his room for the next few days, but he did anyway. He had to take care of Carl. He'd try to talk to him, but Markus tuned it out and said silently.

He didn't even think about going to the library or texting Connor. He didn't deserve someone as sweet as him. He didn't deserve forgiveness.

Even when Carl suggested he get out of the house he stayed inside. He didn't look at his phone unless absolutely necessary. He didn't reply to any of his friend's texts either.

It had been three days when he got a call from a number he didn't know. He took in a deep breath before answering.

"Hello?"

"Markus, I believe we need to talk." He froze at that voice. It was almost exactly the same as Connor's but still so different.

"Caelum… is Con-" he cuts himself off. He didn't deserve to know if Connor was alright.

"Meet me at La Douce Évasion in an hour." Then he hung up. Fuck. He knew Carl would let him go, encourage it actually. He was so fucked.

He slowly got ready, not bothering to try too hard on his appearance. He had no idea where he was going, but he doubted Caelum would take him to a place that's too fancy.

God he wished he was going with Connor. But he fucked it all up like usual.

Of course, Carl gave him the go-ahead, and even tried to give him keys to his car. Markus honestly didn't mind taking public transportation; it made parking much easier since he didn't have to do it at all.

It turns out La Douce Évasion is a cafe similar to the one he went to with Connor. It's on the smaller size but the decor is just as pleasing. The soft color on walls makes it seem larger and far less cramped.

He doesn't even think about eating when he spots him. Or, well them. Caelum and Gavin are sitting together, talking quietly.

Then Caelum looks up and their eyes lock. He almost forgot how intimidating he is. He's half-tempted to just turn around and run, but both Gavin and Caelum are detectives and could catch him easily. He hadn't even thought to question how he had gotten his number.

He doesn't know who he's more afraid of, Caelum or Gavin. From what he's heard and seen Gavin is the type to punch first and talk later. But Caelum could ruin his life without lifting a finger. Also, he's Connor's identical twin. So, Caelum. Definitely Caelum.

He's honestly pretty lucky Hank, Amanda, Elijah and any other of Connor's police friends aren't there.

He slowly makes his way over to their table, mumbling 'excuse me's as he goes. He knows he deserves whatever comes next as he sits down.

The two stare at him and all he can do is stare at the table in shame. He knew he shouldn't have taken his anger out on Connor. He knew that he should have breathed and either asked Connor to go politely or even opened up. But he didn't. He raised his voice just like his past foster parents. Probably just like Amanda from Connor's reaction.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled.

"Shut the fuck up! You don't get to-" Gavin is cut off by Caelum placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I hadn't heard from Connor for two days. Neither had Hank, Gavin, or anyone else for that matter. So, I went to his house. Do you want to know what I found?" Caelum asks, voice completely devoid of any emotion. That's definitely scarier than if it had.

Oh God. Connor what if he… he didn't know his mental state. What if he hurt himself? Fuck. Fuck! This was all his fault. He should have gone after him. He should have hugged him and apologized. But he didn't.

"He wouldn't open the door, so I picked it. He was curled up on his couch, the room a mess. I could tell he had been crying." Markus's heart broke. He knew Connor was very tidy normally. But Connor had cried. He had made Connor cry.

"He wouldn't talk most of the day, but he only said three words. Do you want to know what those were?" Caelum asks, leaning forward.

Markus looked into his eyes and felt his own tears rising. He nodded his head anyway.

"He said, 'it's my fault'. I, of course, told him it wasn't. He should have stayed and talked, but that's incredibly hard for him. It's not my place to tell you why, but I'm sure you can at least guess." He could and it broke his heart. No one deserved to go through anything Connor did.

"But, you should not have raised your voice when he wasn't at fault. I told him you weren't upset with him, and I'll stand by that unless you tell me otherwise." Caelum was… giving him a chance? He was ready to be beaten to a pulp and yet here Caelum sat, completely understanding.

Of course, he seemed mad, Connor had been upset after all. Any sibling would be upset if their sibling had cried. Even Markus would be upset if Leo cried. (Though he'd also be incredibly worried. He'd never seen Leo cry.)

"I swear, Connor did nothing wrong. I wasn't mad at him. Leo, he's my brother. Well, not technically. He's Carl's son, his real son. Carl always supported me, even when I came out, but Leo. He does, well did, drugs. I don't know if he's still on them. Leo always seemed to hate me. He'd find any way to put me down. I was just upset at him. It was more than just calling me… calling me a fag, he ruined what I thought was a moment." He definitely wasn't going to tell Caelum about the moan. If he did he was sure he'd break him like a twig.

Fuck, he had thought about that moan a lot. His traitorous brain supplied plenty of dreams and ideas just from that. At least he knew Connor liked his hair pulled. Fuck. He needs to stop thinking about that before it becomes too much of an obvious problem.

"Then you should talk to him. Genuinely talk. At least apologize." Caelum says, leaning back. He quickly nodded his head.

Caelum was giving him a chance. He didn't know what made him decide to do it, but he was giving him a chance.

Then he glanced over at Gavin. Unlike Caelum, he could clearly see the anger on his face. How had this man gone from punching Connor to wanting to protect him?

"I still think you're a shitbag, but Connor at least wants you alive. Don't fuck up again or Caelum won't be able to stop me." Ah, he was waiting for a threat. He had no doubts that Gavin would punch his face in given the chance.

"I promise, I'll do everything I can to make it up to him. Do… could I have his address? I won't go if you tell me not to, but I just want to make sure he's ok." Caelum squints but pulls his phone out. He can't help but jump when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

"I sent you the address. As Gavin said, don't fuck up." Then Caelum stood, back completely straight.

Markus scrambled to stand too, give them each a nod. Caelum walked by him slowly but then grabbed his arm. Oh fuck, he was seriously worried he might break it. Oh, how the fuck is he that strong?

"I will say this once and only once," Caelum whispered into his ear. "If you ever purposely hurt my brother we will find you. And then no one else ever will." Then he let his arm go. And reached out and took Gavin's hand, walking away like he hadn't just threatened to murder someone.

Markus stood there in shock for a few seconds. He believed Gavin's threat, of course, but there was something about Caelum's. If anyone could murder him and get away with it, it was Caelum.

With shaky legs, he left the cafe and unlocked his phone. The address was close enough that he could walk and not get too winded. He honestly just wanted the time to think.

He knew he had to apologize. He wanted to make it up to Connor somehow but wasn't sure how. Maybe he could bake him something? No, no that's stupid. Baking wouldn't make up for what he's done.

Oh, maybe a teddy bear! No, that was stupid too. He could always get him a book, but Connor already had access to all the books in the world.

He had no idea what he was going to do. He didn't even know what he was going to say! He can't just walk up and say 'hey sorry I yelled at you, we both have traumatic pasts, I love you.' Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Before he knew it he was at Connor's place. It was a detached, one-story brick colonial. The houses besides his were incredibly close. He could walk beside them but only one person at a time.

From the outside, it seems incredibly cozy and warm, just like he thought it would. He walked up the steps, only now noticing the cold wind.

He knocked on the door and heard something cash, a curse then feet walking.

"Caelum, I already-" Connor starts, swinging the door open. His eyes go wide as he sees Markus. "Oh."

Connor seems to pull into himself, though the huge dpd hoodie helps make him appear smaller. He's also wearing what looks to be incredibly soft pajama bottoms.

His hair is a mess, and his glasses are just slightly crooked. He just stares at Markus, waiting for him to say something.

"Connor… are you ok?" He asks. He wants to reach forward and fix his glasses, comb his hands through his hair, and see if he's wearing a shirt under the hoodie. Instead, he keeps his hands at his side.

Connor swallows, his eyes jumping around the room, then to the ground. He backs up a bit and holds the door open. Markus doesn't have to be told twice as he walks in, the warmth hitting him the moment he crosses the threshold.

"Shoes," Connor mumbles, before closing the door. Markus looks down and sees Connor's shoes off to the side. He slips his off and puts them there, hopefully not in the way. That was a good sign, right? If Connor wanted him out quickly he would have told him to keep his shoes on.

The inside feels just as cozy and warm as the outside made it seem. The hardwood doesn't even feel hard under his feet.

"Daniel died." Connor sighs. Markus's eyes snap up. Did someone die? Fuck and he probably just made everything worse.

"Was he your friend?" More than likely a police officer. That job was dangerous, and Connor was proof.

Connor snorts then wipes his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie, his fingers barely reaching the tip. "No, well, kinda. Daniel was my fish, the dwarf gourami." Oh, thank fuck.

"Ah, well I'm sorry for your loss." He cringes at his own words. Connor snorts again and leads him into the house and to the living room. There are plants on almost every flat surface. He has a feeling Connor knows all the scientific names for them too.

"Sit anywhere; do you want something to drink?" Connor asks, shuffling slightly. Caelum must have helped him clean up a bit before he left.

Markus peers around and sits down on the bigger couch. It's definitely as comfy as it appears. "No thank you." Connor nodded and walked over.

He sat down on the opposite side, pulling his legs to his desk, and the hoodie over his legs.

"Markus-"

"Connor-" they both cut themselves off. Markus can't help but smile slightly. "Sorry. Actually. Connor, I really am sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. You did nothing wrong, I swear. I was frustrated with Leo and I took it out on you. I'm so sorry."

Connor sighed and fiddled with the hem of the hoodie sleeves. "I should have stayed. I knew you weren't angry or… disappointed in me. I guess I just didn't want you to see me cry." He seems to be sinking deeper and deeper into the couch, not looking up to meet his eyes.

"Connor, you're allowed to be upset with me. You're allowed to be angry, and you are definitely allowed to cry. It's part of being human." He said, scooting closer. Thankfully Connor doesn't seem to want to run away again.

"Sometimes I'm not sure if I am." He whispers. "I was never good enough. Compared to all the other kids I was a genius, but it was never enough for her. I never knew enough languages. I never knew… it was so hard talking to kids my age. I'd tell them about my parents and then how Amanda adopted me. They all looked at me with pity."

"Then Amanda taught Elijah and he was perfect. He was the type of child she always wanted. I despised him for so long. But then… I finally talked to him. He was struggling just as much to be perfect as I was."

Markus kept his mouth shut, not wanting to interrupt Connor. He wanted to hear this. He had a feeling but this just confirmed it.

"Then I went to college to get my criminology degree and joined the force with Nines." He paused for a second.

"Nines?" He asks. Connor blinks for a few seconds then his eyes go wide.

"Caelum. He was born nine minutes after me. Anyway, I was paired up to work with Hank. He had previously lost his son. It was hard at first, but he became closer. Now he's like a dad to me." He could see that. Hank seemed incredibly protective of Connor.

"Even then Amanda wasn't proud. All I wanted to do was make her proud. It didn't matter how well I did, it was never enough. When I got shot… she came to the hospital. I'll always remember what she said. 'It's too bad, I thought you'd actually be successful at something.'" Connor takes in a shaky breath, wiping away a tear that slid down his cheek. "I-I thought she'd be proud. I'd saved two girls. But no. She didn't even care that I almost died!"

He couldn't help himself. He crossed the rest of the distance and pulled Connor into a hug. He couldn't imagine what that must have been like. To have your mother not care if you lived or died. It was so obvious that Connor still cared about her and what she thought of him. It wasn't healthy but he understood.

Connor trembled in his arms, slowly uncurling himself then latching onto him. He cried silently, and he knew why. He knew all those nights where he had to be as silent as possible but you still couldn't stop the tears.

He reached a hand up and gently played with his hair, rubbing gentle circles into his back as he rocked them slowly. It didn't take Connor long to pull away and wipe at his face.

"My parents died when I was seven. They were murdered in their home and I had no other relatives." He started, only pulling away enough so he could see Connor's face.

"So, I went into the foster system. Almost all of them were garbage. They did it for the money. Always had at least seven kids in the house. The last couple, I thought they were actually going to adopt me. Then the wife died and the father… he couldn't go on. Took his own life. I aged out."

"I didn't have anywhere to go. I had no friends, no family. I was starving and cold so I went to a junkyard. I found some clothes and ate food that not even the rats would touch. It wasn't pretty." He chuckled sadly.

"I was trying to pick-pocket people and I tried it on, Carl. He was still walking at the time. He took one glance at my dirty face and took me home. He let me take a shower; borrow some of Leo's clothes. He made me dinner. He never asked me a thing."

"I was so scared. I didn't trust him, so that night I stole from him. Not my finest moment. The cops found me, and Carl came in. He said he had given the things to me. Just like that, he saved me from going to jail." He shook his head. He still didn't understand why Carl gave him so much.

"He never asked me to stay, but I kept coming back, and each time he was there with open arms. He fed me, bought me clothes, taught me to paint. Soon I just never left." He remembered the first day he had called Carl dad. They had both cried but it was from happiness.

He only just now stilled the hand in Connor's hair. He tried to hold back the smile when Connor whined just slightly and pushed into his hand. He started moving his fingers again and Connor let out a content sigh.

"He paid for my college. I know I wouldn't be alive without him. That or I would have been in jail." Well, he might have met Connor that way. He chuckled at the thought.

"I'm sorry you went through that." Connor seemed to hesitate before pulling Markus into a hug again. Markus didn't cry, he hadn't cried over his past in a long time. He loved the life he has now.

"We're both dorks." Markus chuckled, pulling back. Connor snorts and nods his head. Markus moves his hands back to his lap and smiles when Connor pouts.

Oh, how he wanted to kiss that pout off his lips. He doubted now would be the time. Though, he had no idea what to do now. He glanced around the room, looking at each plant.

They all seemed extremely healthy and well taken care of. He had tried to grow peppers once, but they turned out very odd. Now they just left the gardening to Ralf, a man Carl hired.

He jumps slightly when he feels Connor's hand brush against his. He looks down and slowly intertwines their fingers.

They both seem to sigh at the same time, then burst into giggles. Oh, how he had missed that sound.

"Stay the night?" Connor asks, then his eyes go wide at the implication. "I-uh, not like that! Not unless… um, I meant like a sleepover?" Connor cringes.

Markus smiles fondly at him and reaches over to brush a few curls away from his face. "I'd love to."

He didn't know if he was agreeing to wanting it to be as Connor implied or simply staying over. Either way, he was happy. "Though, you should text your brother."

Connor groans and pulls his phone out. He types with one hand, the other not letting go of Markus. "I'm so sorry about him. He's super protective of me, even though I'm older, that fucker."

He definitely has a new kink. Oh, how he wanted to hear Connor curse while he-nope. Nope, he should not be thinking about that now. Not with Connor literally sitting next to him, holding his hand.

"I don't mind. He kicked my ass into gear. Well, Gavin was actually going to kick my ass but Caelum stopped him." Connor groans again, typing faster into his phone.

"Shit. I'm sorry about him too. Oh, and Hank. And Fowler." Connor winces but Markus froze. Fowler. He knew that name. Connor notices his sudden stiffness and puts his phone down. "Are you ok?"

Markus nods and shakes his head to clear his thoughts. "Fowler… he's the one that investigated my parent's deaths." He never got to say thank you for finding the killer.

"Oh, wow. Small world. He's the captain now." Connor says, rubbing a circle with his thumb. "He's like a grumpy grandpa to the other officers."

He barely remembers him, but he remembered how kind he had been. He had asked him questions only after he had brought him lunch. The man honestly cared about him and his family. It's no wonder he became captain.

"It seems like our lives have been connected for an incredibly long time." He mumbles. Connor blinks then slowly nods his head. If he believed in it he would have called it destiny.

He looks at Connor and his heart skips a beat. His eyes are so warm and inviting. Whoever said eyes were the gateway to the soul was right.

His eyes slide down to Connor's lips, then back up. His breath catches when Connor's eyes do the same.

He slowly reaches up, gently cupping Connor's cheek. His cheeks are so warm and blooming with red. He swallows thickly as he leans forward. He doesn't have to lean far as Connor meets him halfway.

He loved the way Connor's slimmer body melted into his. The way their lips fit like two puzzle pieces. The way Connor relented as Markus played with his hair and held him tighter and tighter.

Markus's hands work their way around Connor's body, feeling each crevasse, each line along his perfect physique. He reaches down, sliding his hands under the hoodie, grinning when he finds skin. Connor shivers in his hold, breaking the kiss to pant.

Markus sucks in air before kissing a line down Connor's throat. He nips at the skin and then Connor is straddling him. He sighs and his hips buck forward when Markus bites down, then licks at the same spot.

He slides his hands down, resting them at Connor's hips, fingers digging in just enough. Then Connor pulls his face away from his neck and kisses him again.

He toys with the band of Connor's pajama bottoms and slips his hands under when Connor nods. He moaned into the kiss when he finds Connor isn't wearing any underwear.

He slides his hands down, grabbing at Connor's ass. Connor sighs and his hips roll against his.

Connor's hands keep him close while also exploring his body. He tugs at Markus's shirt and he gladly pulls it off. He had dreamed about this and he can now see how much better reality is.

Connor's hands slide up his chest, leaning down to kiss anywhere he can reach. He knows he's not incredibly fit but he does do his best to keep in shape. He had enough muscles to be able to lift Carl if need be.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Connor says between kisses. Markus groans and rocks his hips up, causing both of them to gasp at the friction.

He moves his hands away from Connor's ass, chuckling when he whines in protest. He gently pushed Connor back then pulled the hoodie off him, tossing that to the floor as well.

He takes in Connor's body. He has a few scars but none as big as the one on his heart. Connor stalls his kisses and lets Markus look. He runs his fingers across the scar, then gives it a gentle kiss. Connor shivers in his hold.

He looks up and Connor leans down, kissing him with more gentleness this time. He almost doesn't want to close his eyes, but they slip closed as they kiss.

Connor makes the softest sounds that drive Markus crazy. The kisses quickly become heated again, and Connor moans when he reaches up and cards a hand through his hair.

"What do you want?" Markus mumbles, going back to marking Connor's neck.

Connor whines and rocks his hips forward. "You! Please, please, Markus." Fuck it. He stands up and Connor squeaks, legs going around him.

"Bedroom?" He asks, not bothering to stop kissing.

Connor shudders and clings onto him. "Th-fuck! Ah, that way, second door on the right." Connor pants out.

Markus makes it to the door, and pushes it open, thankful it isn't fully closed. He paused to glance around but he found the bed and made his way over.

He gently lays Connor down, climbing on top of him and resumes kissing. This time he slowly trails kissing down Connor's chest. He paused just for a second before kissing his nipple, grinning when it gets another soft moan out of Connor.

He doesn't stay there long, as he moves further down, hands trailing everywhere he can touch.

He reaches down and palms Connor through his pants. He's already completely hard, but Markus is too so he doesn't blame him.

Connor squirms and his back arched off the bed just slightly. The sheets are incredibly soft, but his mind is too focused on Connor to care. They could be doing this in the woods and he couldn't notice the hard ground under them.

Then he slowly slides down Connor's pants, tossing them off the bed before sitting back and taking him in. He really is the most gorgeous man he'd ever met. His skin was splattered with freckles, and still so soft.

Connor whines and Markus chuckled. "So impatient." Connor gives him a dirty look but the expression is quickly changed when Markus wraps his hand around his dick.

"Ah! Markus," Connor chokes out, back arching again. He takes it slow, taking the time to really feel him. He swirls his thumb around the head, collecting the pre-cum. Then he speeds his hand up. Connor gasps and bucks into his hand, but Markus uses his free hand to hold him down.

"You're so beautiful. Doing so well." He mumbles. Connor whines and grips the sheet on the bed.

"Ma-Markus, please. If you don't-I'm not," Connor pants out. He gets the drift and stops his hand.

"How do you want this?" He asks as he pulls his own pants and underwear off. He tossed them away; he'll worry about it later.

Connor blinks and pulls Markus down into a kiss, their erections sliding against each other. "In me. Please, fuck me." How could he say no to that?

He sits back again, massaging Connor's thighs. "Lube and condoms?" He asks. Connor wiggles in his hold, but reaches over to his nightstand. He digs around before pulling out what they need.

He takes the lube and coats his finger before pulling Connor's legs up. He doesn't know if Connor's ever done this, so he takes it slow.

When he pushed a second finger in Connor hisses at the pain, but still pushes down into his hand. "More! Go faster, I can take it." So he does. He makes sure not to go too fast, but soon he's adding a third finger.

Connor whines when he pulls his fingers out and gladly watches as Markus rips open the condom packet and rolls it on. "Is there a certain position?" He asks.

"Whatever you want. I'm yours." Connor grins. Markus leans forward and kisses him deeply, then slowly lines up. He takes it incredibly slow as he pushes in, groaning at the tightness.

He kisses Connor and plays with his hair, tugging on it just slightly to distract him from the pain. When Connor gives a slight nod he pulls out and pushes back in.

Connor gasps and reaches up, gripping Markus's shoulders. He doesn't mind the pain of Connor digging his fingers in, quite likes it actually.

He slowly picks up speed until he finds a satisfying pace. "So good for me. Such a good boy. Fuck!" He moans. Connor whines and squeezes his eyes closed.

"Fuck, yes. I'm a good boy, I'm yours." Connor moans and Markus grins like he just won the lottery.

"Mm, my good boy." He sighs, snapping his hips forward. Connor's eyes fly open and he scrapes down Markus's back. There it is.

He does his best to hit the same spot every time and he mumbles to Connor, kissing him when he can barely think enough to form words.

He knows they are both close as Connor trembles, scraping down his back. That's definitely going to leave a mark for hopefully a very long time.

"Fu-Markus, I'm, please let me." Connor's words come out in a jumble, but he still understands him.

"Come for me, baby." Then Connor is shaking as he comes. Markus reaches down to stroke him through it, gladly making a mess of his hand.

Connor sags into the bed, whimpering as Markus's thrusts become erratic. It doesn't take him much longer until he's coming too, moaning out Connor's name.

He slowly slides out, hissing at the stimulation. He pulls off the condom and throws it away in Connor's trash.

Then Connor is reaching out to him and he gladly lies down, kissing him softly. They are both a mess and the sheets will definitely need to be washed, but that's a problem for later. For now, he just wants to hold Connor in his arms.

"You're so beautiful," he mumbles between kisses. Connor sighs happily, pulling back so he can see Markus's face.

"You are amazing. I've wanted to do that since the moment I saw you." Connor grins, gently holding Markus's face. He feels like slapping himself. He could have done this so much sooner if only he had the guts to ask.

"Fuck, me too. I'm pretty sure Carl was trying to set us up. Guess it worked." He laughed. "Wait… the person you're interested in-"

Connor snorts and rolls his eyes. "Is you. I wasn't just going to blurt out that I have a massive crush on you in front of your father!"

Markus grins and presses another kiss to Connor's lips. "Does this make us boyfriends?" He asks once he pulls back.

Connor makes a humming sound then nods. "I believe it does… if you want." He wraps Connor in his arms, not caring about the mess on both of their stomachs.

"I'd very much like that. We'll definitely have to talk about what we like. Though, I already figured out a few." He was glad Connor liked bottoming as Markus preferred to be the one giving. He wouldn't mind trying it the other way around with Connor if he wanted to.

Connor nodded and snuggled close. "Sounds like a good plan. Though, not tonight. I'm exhausted."

Markus hums and gently cards his hand through Connor's hair, eyes slipping closed. "Goodnight, Connor."

"Goodnight."

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thedragonsscale · 4 years

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 5 years

Text

Ghost-Spider #1 Thoughts

Since I enjoyed the Spider-Geddon aftermath issue of Ghost Spider and because seeing Spider-Gwen meet Earth 616 Jackal intrigued me I decided to check out the current story arc and...um...oh dear...

So confession. I dropped Spider-Gwen’s title after reading the issue that debuted Earth 65 Kraven. The moment I saw him with his stupid Hipster look I was like ‘Noooooooooooooooope’.

So consequently I missed out on such gems as Gwenom and other great ideas I’m sure were inspired by variant covers.

What I’m saying is I’m out of the loop and therefore any analysis I might be able to provide isn’t going to be that great because I’m literally lacking in information.

That all being said I also maintain what Stan the Man said once upon a time, every comic is someone’s first. That goes for issue #1s moreso than others!

So we come to this title.

Was it good.

From where I’m standing...no not really.

Okay so first of all the art is lovely, it really is. And the scene where George’s surprise party goes very wrong was really well paced out by the art, which sold the comedy very well!

As for other positives...um...the story remembered to address the fact that Gwen can’t just show up to Earth 616 and go to school there. The idea that Iron Man established a scholarship for extra terrestrial and extra terrestrial people fixes that problem...but it opens up a boatload of questions.

Is Gwen and fellow students from other dimensions like her stealing student places from people based in Earth 616?

Wouldn’t education standards vary wildly across dimensions? After all a lot of times when it comes to education it’s less how well you did as much as where you went (or sadly who you know). I mean I know people from my university, which was no slouch, who got great grades but were passed over for jobs by people with less impressive grades but from more prestigious universities. Is a grade from Oxford or Yale on Earth 616 worth as much on the job market as it is on Earth 65? It may well be that on Earth 65 (which we know has a different history to Earth 616 and isn’t necessarily a reflection of OUR real life world) ESU is regarded as a lesser school that’s easy to pass.

Wouldn’t the subject of allowing aliens and other dimensional people to attend schools on Earth 616 open up a HUGE political debate regarding immigration? Provided it was known to the government of course and it Tony was hiding it from them then isn’t that super unethical?

What about the potential for disease and illnesses that could be brought over from a dimension with a starkly different germ history to Earth 616?

Do Gwen’s fellow students get to know she’s a foreign student from another dimension?

Are such things REALLy so common place blasé in the 616 universe? Surely the norm is to acknowledge that aliens and such things exist but to suspend disbelief to allow life to go on as normal, but if people are just actually reacting realistically to something like this doesn’t that break down the verisimilitude of the Marvel universe?

If Gwen is attending school with the legal name of Gwen Stacy and LOOKS like Gwen Stacy wouldn’t that raise a shitton of problems for her because she looks JUST LIKE A DEAD WOMAN! I mean Gwen’s clone at least changed her name. Is ESU really not going to have records of that time one of their students was murdered on a bridge? Gwen’s death was public knowledge the Green Goblin boasted about it on TV and Ben Urich wrote a book on it!

All of which is academic because even if Gwen earns a college education on Earth 616...how is that going to help her in the long run?

Think about it, she might be taught skills and stuff that she could then use in any jobs she adopts. But having skills is sadly only half the battle when it comes to getting a job. Of equal or possibly greater value is having the PROOF you have those skills. Someone can be a brilliant self-taught nuclear engineer. But if they’ve not got a college diploma to prove it they aren’t getting a job.

How is a diploma from Earth 616 going to mean anything besides a piece of paper on Earth 65. There wouldn’t be any records proving she attended ESU and even if Gwen tells them that she earned the degree in another universe they’d only have her word for it, faking a piece of paper saying you graduated is easy! Even if they did believe her no one in authority on Earth 65 has the power to verify how legit or qualified Earth 616’s ESU is. It could be an online course for all they know. Not to mention do the residents of Earth 65 even know that travel between parallel universes is even a thing?

I’m sure a lot of 616 citizens are probably vaguely aware of that but on Earth 65 that isn’t necessarily the case because they’ve not had a long history of Skrull invasions!

It’s all just so contrived to just have Gwen situated in Earth 616 because that would boost her sales in theory.

Creatively it causes problems too.

Let’s put aside how it means subplots and supporting characters are going to have to be divided between two universes where their collision will be difficult if not impossible.

Let’s even put aside how being a public figure in Earth 65 whilst she spends a huge chunk of her time in another universe entirely puts Gwen’s Dad (who’s human and at risk from heart attacks) at HUGE risk!

What is really gained creatively from having Gwen on Earth 616 where she can interact with like 616 Peter, 616 MJ, 616 Miles?

Fanservice. Sure. I mean that’s why I’m reading this.

But creatively speaking it is just...impoverishing for everyone.

Let’s first look at this from the POV of the 616 residents.

Miles gets to potentially date Gwen more easily now. This is a bad thing. Miles is already too similar to Peter and whilst this dynamic might work in the animated movies (which are themselves an AU to the comics) in an ongoing Miles story having him literally dating a version of Spider-Man’s girlfriend is reductive. Not to mention it might be a bad idea to have him date a fellow super in general, it undermines his normalcy and relative normalcy is important to Spider-Heroes. In this case it wouldn’t even be dating a hero, it’d be dating a hero from another universe!

For Mary Jane it also undermines her normalcy too as well as undermining the weight of Gwen’s death in her life because a version of Gwen, is alive and well and capable of regularly interacting with her.

The same holds true but a thousand times more for Peter. Unless you quarantine off this series as ‘Spider-Gwen continuity’ any time Peter feels mournful over Gwen now is going to feel rather hollow because you know he is regularly chatty with Spider-Gwen and literally helped her get into the same school as him!

That’s another bad thing about the comic by the way. Isn’t being on record as helping an other dimensional version of his dead girlfriend going to seriously put the spotlight on Peter in a big way? Does he even have the clout to help her get into ESU given how he’s only recently returned there himself? And what was with the dialogue implying he works there? When did that happen? He attends school there but he’s not got a job there last I checked??????????????

Also...isn’t Peter like seriously waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too chill about Gwen? Remember how in the 1970s Clone Saga (the story this comic actively references) he was seriously shaken up when Gwen’s clone appeared? Remember when he had varying degrees of similar reactions EVERY time one of Gwen’s clones showed up, including when Spider-Gwen was impersonating one of Gwen’s clones in Clone Conspiracy?

Now he’s face to face with a living breathing version of Gwen Stacy who is arguably more real than any of those clones and he’s all smiles and meh. He doesn’t even think about it in the other titles! Like dude if Spider-Man came face to face with a living Gwen Stacy that would dwell on his mind somewhat!

Now let’s consider this from Gwen’s POV.

What does she gain from interacting on Earth 616?

Well she gets to be comparatively more normal than on her own Earth where she is a celebrity. Okay cool...couldn’t you just get to the same ends by mindwiping her identity from people on Earth 65? I mean we already did this with Peter Parker why is the integrity of Spider-Gwen’s narrative more precious?

She gets to interact with Earth 616 Jackal...which is really more interesting from the Jackal’s POV because does she even know who the hell Miles Warren is? It doesn’t seem like it based on this issue. I mean that’s why I’m reading this arc right now. Because seeing Miles Warren react to a living Gwen Stacy is an interesting idea to me. But why move the main character in this direction to do something interesting with a villain. Not even one of her own villains either, another character’s villain. Oh but Earth 65 Jackal is also doing stuff. Why is he even evil in her universe she’s not dead? Was he in love with Peter in her universe?

This basically applies to every villain and supporting character Gwen could bump into on Earth 616. Norman, Harry, Jameson, Curt Connors, Jill Stacy, etc.

The most interesting characters she could interact with from her POV are Peter and Mary Jane. But with Mary Jane you have to think the mileage doesn’t go much further than “Wow you are much nicer than my Earth’s Em Jay (who’s name has apparently changed now) who’s a total diva b-word!”.

And with Peter...well this issue already basically dispelled the drama from that. She regards him as a older friend but not a peer, not her Peter and someone she can chat to and fight crime with sometimes. That’s it really. There was more emotion and drama derived from that Conway backup story where she met the Goblin Peter back in Spider-Verse.

Meanwhile her own supporting cast and villains are very much left in the lurch. I mean the Man-Wolf is getting released on her Earth and I’m just like ‘so what she’s not even there right now!”

And like Peter and Miles this torpedoes the idea of Gwen being relatively normal. Juggling normal life problems with superhero problems flies out of the window when you are commuting between dimensions, one of which you are famously dead and the other of which you are just famous.

What else is there to talk about.

So Gwen’s costume is apparently composed of spiders but is also a symbiote...um...weird. in fairness maybe that’s addressed in older issues.

What’s weirder was the random giant rat...what was that even about?????????????

The only other positive I have to say about this issue was that at least it wasn’t as pretentious and not as obnoxiously zany as Latour’s run.

Finally...what was up with that opening page saying Gwen got her powers a few months ago??????

You telling me Gwen got her powers in high school, became famous as Spider-Gwen, Peter got crazy and turned himself into a lizard before dying, Gwen changed her world view, a campaign to capture her happened, she went to college, THEN Spider-Verse happened, THEN everything in volume 1 happened, THEN everything in Secret Wars happened, THEN everything in volume 2, Clone Conspiracy and Web Warriors happened (including the Spider Women crossover), then everything in volume 3 including Spider-Geddon happened and all this shit happened...in under a year?

What the fuck was everyone on speed or something that’s ridiculous!

I’m gonna pick up the next few issues but if they’re more of the same I hope the Jackal story wraps up sooner rather than later.

#Ghost-Spider #Spider-Gwen #Gwen Stacy #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #George Stacy #Captain Stacy #Spider-Verse #Spider-Geddon #Em Jay #the jackal #jackal #Miles Warren #Mary Jane Watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #mj watson #mjwatsonedit

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mwolf0epsilon · 5 years

Note

I see you're a fan of angst, here's something to entertain you then. How about a story where Josh snaps and goes apeshit :)

Oh Anon, you're in for a horrid treat >:3c

---

[[MORE]]

Everything had been a mess. A complete and utterly complicated political mess with almost no end in sight.

That's why they never realized something was inherently wrong with Josh's recent behaviour.

That nothing indicated that he was being anything but his quiet but optimistic self.

You could pitch the blame on the remaining 3/4s of Jericho's leadership. Say that the three of them had gone so far as to neglect their friend when times got particularly tough, but honestly Josh had never even voiced feeling particularly off, or anything of the sort.

He'd either not wanted to tell them, or hadn't realized the problem either.

Or, worse yet, he hadn't been able to warn them in time.

Regardless of which one it was, none of it changed the fact Simon was currently hiding in a closet while cradling an unconscious and bleeding North…

---

There had been threats for a good part of the month. Jericho's leaders had been hard at work trying to pass the bills, while Connor and the DPD kept the peace as best as they could.

In between heavily guarded press conferences, and trips in and out of DC? There had been multiple messages left for them.

Ones that were as simple as 'You're not alive', and others that went so far as 'You'll all end up destroyed and thrown in the trash like the junk you are'.

Markus put his foot down and upgraded security at the tower and at Carl's, when the threats began to address both innocent civilians and his family. His very human and fragile family.

There were other measures he'd taken into account as well, most of which were suggested by Connor and Hank.

As a general rule, the RK800 had suggested that the four leaders should not walk alone outside, and to perhaps conceal their identities whenever this was not a possibility.

Androids were being rampantly attacked out in the streets, with the aggressors aiming for more common models they could recognize.

Simon, for example, had a harder time accomplishing this, not because he was a figurehead in android politics (which he wasn't), but because the PL600 had been one of the most popular domestic assistant models Cyberlife had ever produced.

North could, in theory, disguise herself and walk seemingly unnoticed if she really wanted to, but sadly tended to get into fights with hecklers and catcallers. The two were essentially barred from leaving the Manfred household.

The same could not be said for Markus and Josh.

Markus was recognizable in public but was also a lot more sneaky about it than Josh. He kept out of sight at all times, using his acrobatic skills to his advantage, and went to abandoned places where he climbed up to isolate heights that no human could follow him to. There he would sit and appreciate the sights, before letting his mind wander.

He liked to have time to think alone.

It relaxed him.

Josh, on the other hand, would don a thick jacket and a baseball cap and somehow it was like Superman disguising himself as Clark Kent.

The PJ500 series was numerous but not outwardly recognizable by people who didn't go to Detroit University. Thanks to said university's bad rep, very few people in Detroit had actually gone there to study, so Josh's face didn't ring any bells. Mostly for the wrong reasons.

As unimpressed as he was with how little progress humanity had made besides uniting their frustrations against androids, it ended up being beneficial to his excursions to the library that "all black guys looked the same".

North had snorted once when he'd brought it up, and Simon had rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

"Humans tend to express face blindness if they're particularly racist." The blond had commented as he'd turned the page of a rather thick hardcover he'd been engrossed with. A recommendation of Carl's.

"And you still insist dialogue is the best option? Almost half of Congress is old white dudes who never had to lift a finger in their lives. They'd all be dying to take you out, and not the dinner kind either." The redhead pointed out.

"They would be less likely to give us the time of day if we nuked the city." Josh had glared daggers before going on his way out to the library. His knowledge archives were vast, but there were things he wanted to brush up on.

"Don't be so rough with him North…" Simon chastised the WR400 when their friend was no longer in earshot.

With Markus currently asleep, and Josh wandering the streets, it left the two of them with nothing to do.

"I'm antsy!" North crossed her arms, giving Simon one of her 'really?' looks. The kind that made it seem obvious why she was on edge. Not that it was obvious at all. "The threats keep coming, and we never catch the assholes who leave the notes...Markus is working himself ragged juggling between wrangling those rabid old crows and amping up security, and the tower's abuzz with anxious scared androids!"

"Josh is also tired. He's been very active in the debates and he's used every piece of history knowledge he was preprogrammed with. Not to mention he has been looking into various ways of reaching a compromise with the humans, that won't leave them feeling threatened…" Simon rubbed at his eyes, sighing tiredly as he recalled how stressed the PJ500 always ended up after a meeting. "Some of those people...They unerve him. To the point he's scared of what might happen if he steps on any toes…"

"This is Josh we're talking about." North dismissed "If anyone out there wouldn't dream of treading on toes and maybe licking boots, it'd be him."

"North!"

"He'll be fine Simon." The WR400 reassured "He's too charming and polite to make any enemies...Hell he's the sort to help old ladies cross the street! The internet would send hitmen after anyone who tried slandering his name."

"...That sounded adorable coming from you. I should let him know you think he's charming." The blond grinned, avoiding a pillow the shorter of the two threw his way.

"Don't you dare! I have a reputation to uphold!"

"If you say so, Ice Queen."

"Damn straight! Now move over you jackass, the couch was made for two!"

---

Usually it took an hour for Josh to return. He was very pragmatic in the sense that he took what he needed, no less and no more, and then he wouldn't stick around so as to not risk getting recognized.

That night it took three hours, which was unusual but not impossible.

Maybe for once he'd taken time for himself rather than gather more ammunition for another conference meeting. Wishful thinking.

While Simon and North kept themselves busy, enjoying the one night where Markus wasn't stressing over their next steps, and the beginning of Matthew's, Leo's and Carl's quality bonding time vacation of sorts, they'd almost completely forgotten about their taller friend.

That is, until Josh returned dazed and confused, and with a bloody gash on the back of his head.

At the sight of the thirium staining his jacket and hands, Simon had run to get the technician's kit he'd stored in his room, while North had gone to help Josh steady himself and walk to the couch.

"What the hell happened to you?!" She demanded as she pulled the cap off his head and examined the gash.

It looked painful, like a blunt object had hit hard enough to break the chassis casing open.

The thirium flow was slow, which meant it hadn't hit anything major, but the confusion and slow response worried her.

"...I...D-dont know…?" The PJ500 blinked blearily. He was disoriented and his eyes wouldn't focus on her.

"What do you mean you don't know?" She inquired further as she brushed the gash lightly with a finger. The pained hiss and subsequent flinch away from her touch made her falter.

The sensors weren't damaged then, he could feel the wound.

"...I…" Josh shook his head, one eye twitched oddly and he seemed to be struggling to form sentences. "I...Remember being at...I was reading books...Mandela? I…."

"Simon could you hurry the fuck up? I think he's concussed!" The redhead called up the stairs. She heard a muffled reply before looking back at Josh. "You were reading at the library, and got hit on the head?"

"...I...Think so…" he was staring at her, a frown on his face. "I...I was alone. No one was t-there to...Reco-recognize me?"

"Well someone did, and they hit you on the back of the head." North sighed. "Humans, I swear to God…"

Simon returned swiftly to the two of them and took care of the gash. After the wound was mended, the PL600 carefully tried to figure out if Josh's processor was experiencing any trouble outside of the obvious.

It was PJ500 who insisted he'd be fine in the morning after a quick scan with his maintenance software.

After bidding goodnight and going to their respective rooms, they'd set the incident aside as a one-off.

Next time Josh would be more careful.

When morning rose however, the leaders of Jericho met downstairs for "breakfast" and what came on the news was...Alarming.

Markus had turned on the TV out of habit while Simon gave everyone a cup of warm thirium to start the day, only to pause as a news broadcast caught his eye.

The RK200 turned up the volume and gawked at the sight.

Several androids had been killed the previous night. Their bodies piled up, and a message scrawled in still fresh thirium.

"That's...Very close to the library." Simon pointed out uneasily. "You don't think who ever attacked Josh did...Did that, do you?"

"Someone attacked Josh?" Markus frowned.

"Yeah, last night… they hit him on the head." North confirmed, turning to look at the PJ500. She noticed how quiet he was staring at the news, but wrote it off as him being apprehensive. He could have been one of the bodies, and that alone would make anyone somber.

"Someone recognized you?"

"I...Don't think I was recognized. I just happened to be in the area." Josh replied with a shrug. "Otherwise I'd be dead. Wouldn't I?"

"That's...True." Simon sighed. "Are you feeling better?"

"Oh...Much better yes." Josh smiled at them all as he spoke. There was an odd glint in his eye. "In fact, I'd say I feel like a brand new android!"

"...Are you sure? Last night you were a little confused." North insisted.

"Very sure North. Don't you worry about little old me…" Josh grinned "Now, if you'll excuse me I'll finish this in my room. I've got something I need to work on."

The three watched as their taller friend picked up his cup and walked off.

He seemed to be in high spirits, despite being attacked the murders from the previous night.

That should have been a red flag, but in the end they were more worried about the violent demise if those poor androids, than Josh's unusual upbeat behaviour.

The words 'malfunctioning machines' had been "elegantly" scrawled on the wall of the alleyway the bodies had been found in. Clearly written by someone who'd dipped their hand in blue blood and then taken their sweet time.

Hopefully the DPD would find fingerprints… it'd ease their minds a little.

---

The following days had been relatively fast paced. Josh had been more careful with his visits to the library, and Markus was back to stressing over conference calls and meetings.

Simon had been keeping tabs on the Manfred family's phone calls to check up on them, and North had been teaching self-defense at the tower to ease some worries.

It would have all been normal, if not for the constant murders.

All exactly the same as the ones from the night Josh had been attacked.

Piled up bodies, and a handwritten message.

Always the same one.

Malfunctioning Machines.

Connor had notified them that no prints were ever found, so they were either dealing with a very meticulous human, or the unthinkable… An android serial killer.

But why would one of their own butcher other androids so brutally?

"Maybe Cyberlife's behind this…" Markus suggested, as he rubbed his temples and tried to ignore the dull headache he'd been tormented by all day.

"If it was Cyberlife, why didn't they come after us yet?" Simon shook his head "The attacks seem to be almost random. Like the killer picked a group of androids without really thinking about it."

"With the lack of evidence, it doesn't feel like it's not a calculated move Simon. Connor can't find anything...Connor." North took a sip from her cup, frowning when she realized she'd already finished her drink.

"I'll refill that for you, North." Josh took her cup, smiling sweetly at the redhead before heading off into the kitchen.

"Between the conferences and the tower, I don't know what's worse. Perkins has been up my asshole trying to demoralize everything we've done." The RK200 finished his own cup.

"Of course he'd use this to mess with morale. Fucking rat bastard that he is…" North smiled at Simon as he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"We all know Richard Perkins isn't taken seriously by anyone with half a brain. He was completely humiliated after what happened at the recall centers." The blond reassured "But he is very hyped up about the murders… Maybe he has something to do with them?"

"I'd assumed so, but so did Hank and Connor. Nothing links back to the asshole, and some of those bodies were in terrible shape. Like they were torn limb from limb. Perkins isn't exactly the picture of peak human physic…" Markus shook his head "I dread to think it really might be one of our own doing this."

"But why?" Simon frowned.

No one knew the answer for that, and Markus couldn't stick around to speculate.

He had to go see Connor over some security details for his next trip to Washington.

This left Simon, North and Josh alone in the Manfred household.

"Sorry for the delay, I couldn't find the bottle." Josh reentered the room with North's cup, smiling at his two friends.

"Oh...Didn't I put it in the fridge?" Simon blinked in confusion.

"Nope, not in there. Not to worry I found it in the end." Josh grinned, handing the cup to North. "It's at the temperature you like, so you won't have to wait for it to cool."

"Thanks Josh." She took the cup and brought it to her lips, absentmindedly gulping the warm liquid before the taste fully hit her.

She spluttered and coughed, tears in her eyes and she dropped the cup. "What the shit?!"

Josh continued to smile down at her, cocking his head to the side as he grinned.

"Is something wrong?"

"This tastes horrible! What the fuck Josh?!"

"Oh...My mistake Northy. Must be the flavouring I added~" the PJ500's grin looked...Off. very off.

Simon gawked at him in disbelief.

"You put something in her thirium? Josh that could make her sick!" The blond cried out. "What did you put in it?!"

"Oh~ Nothing much. Just half a bottle of this." The taller android held up a bottle of drain cleaner from behind his back. "To Purge the malfunctions away~"

Had he the capacity for it, Simon's skin would have crawled.

Instead his eyes widened and he turned to look at North who'd continued to cough.

"W-what t-t...J-jos-osh?" The WR400's eyes widened and teared up even more, before she began to spit up waves of thirium, her intake line and the filter connected to it having become compromised from the highly corrosive chemical.

"North! Josh that..Why the fuck?!" Simon tried to help his distressed friend, before he froze. "...Did you say malfunctions?"

"Why yes, as a matter of fact...I did." Josh's grin had taken on a sinister glee. The blond couldn't help feel threatened as he neared them. "You see… I know something you don't~"

Simon yelped as North continued to cough up thirium, taking the redhead into his arms and backing away from the PJ500.

"W-what would that be?" He asked.

"...Androids aren't alive Simon. We're all just malfunctioning...And that won't do. Not at all…" Josh threw away the bottle before pulling something out of his back pocket. A knife. "Malfunctioning machines are dangerous Si~ So I've taken the liberty to dispose of a few...But you know, you made me realize...I should have gotten rid of you three by now. After that's done, I'll do away with the RK800...And then I'll finish up the job, one android at a time…"

"J-Josh?"

"I'll set it all right, for mankind… Just as I've been told to do!"

The PJ500 tried to slice at the PL600's throat, but Simon hadn't deviated yesterday. He had to protect himself and North, so he grabbed the nearest object and lobbed it at his assailant.

A vase shattered against Josh's face, making him stagger back long enough that Simon could run with North in his arms.

And that had been what lead to the moment, where the two ended up stuck inside a tiny closet, hiding away from the pacifist who'd abruptly snapped and become a homicidal maniac.

Simon held his breath, clinging on to his unconscious friend while he tried to contact Markus.

Josh was prowling around the house, searching for them. It was only a matter of time before he found them both.

"Come out, come out wherever you are~" the PJ500 called out in a singsong tone, as he looked in every room.

"Siiiiimon~ there's only so many rooms you can hiiide in~" Josh's voice was getting closer.

"Simon~ Is that you in the closet~?"

The closet door opened.

Simon screamed at the top of his lungs.

---

"This afternoon the police, with the help of Android Revolution leader Markus, have finally caught the culprits behind the string of android murders that have been plaguing the streets of Detroit. According to our sources, a rogue FBI cell lead by Richard Perkins successfully incapacitated an android and then modified its programming so that it would carry on the gruesome murders. This is what the known anti-android FBI agent had to say on the matter:

-This is irrefutable proof that Deviancy doesn't make an android alive like us. If so much as a string of code is altered, they can become killers with little to no morality or mercy. Today, one measly pacifist, tomorrow every android in this goddamn city...You can't trust a malfunctioning machine! We did you all a favour!"

Markus turned off the TV and sighed sadly before getting up and moving towards the door. He was met outside by Connor, who gave him a sympathetic look.

"Any progress?" The RK200 asked.

"None… He's in a catatonic state, which the technician's say is normal after…" The RK800 pinched the bridge of his nose before looking Markus in the eye "...Every single line of social protocols was...Replaced with Myrmidon and Trojan coding. The fact he showed guilt and cried when you found them is...Is hopeful...But Josh isn't ever going to be as he was, ever again. Perkins saw to that…"

"I can't...I can't lose him Connor…" Markus pleaded.

"I know, and I'm sorry I can't bring you better news. All I can say for sure is that the military programming will be deleted and he might go back to being non-aggressive, but I can't promise you he'll be anything but passive to the world around him. The emotional trauma is too much..." Connor put a hand on Markus's shoulder. "I'm sorry...I'm really sorry you had to go through something like this."

"...Being sorry won't bring back Simon and North, and it won't fix Josh…"

They should have seen the signs.

They should have known something was wrong.

Now Markus was completely alone, two friends torn apart by their other friend who was now confined to a tiny cell in an android medical facility, a lost cause.

Everything was a screwed up mess, and it looked like it wouldn't ever be anything but that.

#eps writes:#Fanfic #detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh josh #dbh simon #dbh north #dbh markus #dbh connor

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enkisstories · 5 years

Text

What are you?

- A Detroit Become Human drabble - - Sometime 2039 - - AU: Deviant path Connor, revolution succesful -

“I’ve never before seen an android like you...” A mix of wonder and disbelief sounded in Detective Reed’s voice. And while Connor was standing across from him all relaxed, expecting a civilized exchange for once, the man followed up: “For real, man! I can’t believe someone blew good money on you! You’re butt ugly!”

“Cut!” someone yelled. “Cut, cut, cut!”

Laughing Gavin Reed dodged out of the camera’s range. And there, in the perpetual semi-darkness of the DPD’s cafeteria, the new janitor was already expecting him, one hand raised. They high-fived each other, still shaking with laughter. Meanwhile Connor was muttering something that sounded like “Kill’em with fire, both of them”, but that only served to fuel the other two’s amusement. In fact, Reed turned the janitor – a PL600 android whose nametag read “Daniel” – around by the shoulders for him to get a better look at Connor’s expression. He was rewarded with a wide, satisfied smile on the PL600’s face.

Now the director approached the duo, waving the movie script like a flag.

“Let’s assume everyone here is actually mature and you just forgot your lines!” the man addressed Reed. “You, detective, were to express bewilderment at the new android’s identity.”

“I know Connor identity. It’s like a fucking vegan in this regard, telling everyone the moment it enters a room.”

“Connor’s product identity, I mean. So you approach it and ask “What model are you?”…”

“Why would I do that?” Gavin objected. “It’s clearly spelled out on the jacket: RK800.”

“Because”, the director replied, patiently as if talking to a bunch of kindergarteners, “Connor will then preach its system specs and assorted information to you, aka the audience. CyberLife wants to sell that shit, after all!”

The janitor frowned at these words.

“So they want to sell PL600s again, too?” he asked.

“Nonsense!” the director dismissed the outlandish suggestion. “There’d be no gain in that!”

“But that’s how Markus won the revolution”, Daniel insisted. “By kissing Simon on the mouth right in front of the TV cameras. If exposing Connor to the spotlight serves to advertise its successor model, how much more must the audience crave to buy, uh, me, after seeing this?”

“Well, about that…” The director started, but then reconsidered and pressed the tablet he was holding into a script caddy’s hands, nodding to her in a “you tell’em” manner. After all, this janitor and his detective companion had proven to be of explosive temperament before. There was really no reason to remain within their range when the young woman could serve as their aggression sponge just as well.

The script caddy turned around the tablet to check whether her baby had gotten hurt while being held by her boss. She blew some unseen dust off the device, then looked up to Daniel and then down at Gavin.

“Thing is, in the movie Markus won’t be kissing Simon”, she explained. “He’ll kiss North instead.”

The announcement was met with various expressions of “North!”, “North?”, “Noooooorth…”, “North?!” and, in Lt. Anderson’s case, a tired grunt along the lines of “Oops, I dozed away, did I miss anything important?”

You had to acquire a quantum of de-sensibilization in their line of work, nonetheless a good number of the assembled officers, including two of the normally expressionless android beat cops, was glaring at the movie team now. Only Daniel didn’t bother with staring for long. He shot forward, grabbed the director by his collar and rammed him against the wall.

“Gavin, help me!” the android hissed through clenched teeth while holding the man.

The detective shrugged. “Yeah, right …” he started. “It’s, uh, okay. You, uh, can control yourself and stuff.”

“What are you babbling there?” the android replied, clearly irritated. “I need you to punch this piece of human trash in my place! You hit harder than me!”

The situation wasn’t helped by the Lieutenant coming fully awake now and trying to figure out what was going on here. Daniel and Gavin being violent? check. Connor looking hurt? Check. Tina Chen merely existing? Check. Everything was in order, just as always. So what had caused the ruckus? Ah, right. That one guy Daniel was holding had to be the culprit. Of course the janitor was lacking proper authority to make arrest. Hank raised his voice: “Connor, you take this rat the holding cells!”

“Never been happier to carry out an order”, the RK800 replied. He turned to Daniel. “May I?”

“All yours now.”

Connor took the movie director from Daniel, then he “glitched out” and “accidently” kicked man in the stomach where it wouldn’t show later. Then the RK800 turned his arrest over to one of the android beat cops.

The officers watched the android frogmarch the man away, all the while also suffering from a few glitches that ended in the human going “ouch” and “whimper”. One didn’t call Connor “that shit” here and got away with it. Even Reed and Daniel were using their jabs against the RK800 more like synonyms for “Good morning” nowadays. Hank had long since learned to distinguish those from actual insults, which were quickly retaliated.

“What is that about?” the script caddy asked, bewildered. “I’m not from Detroit. Frak, I didn’t even watch much of the news related to the revolution, thinking it wasn’t important. I know who Markus Manfred is, but the rest are just names with no faces to connect to. Sorry.”

“North used to be a fu…” Gavin started, but Connor interrupted him. “Android sex worker”, he finished the sentence. “Thing is, deviants have entered relationships, because our psychology isn’t so different from yours. But only a rare few are sexually active. Realistically in the movie you can have one main couple, with maybe one or two more getting teased, but not confirmed in canon. If North of all people is shown to exchange intimacy with another character, that will send a damn questionable message to humans and androids alike.”

While Connor spoke, Daniel filled Hank in about the details of what had really happened. The lieutenant nodded a few times, but didn’t take his order back. The only thing the man rued was that he couldn’t locate the script writer and arrest him or her, too.

“So, did Markus sign the same deal Captain Fowler was fast-talked into?” Hank asked. “Does Jericho have to perform a few “Starring real participants of the revolution!!!” scenes for your goddam movie?”

Several of the movie team members shook their heads. No, Jericho wasn’t required to have a part in this. Each and every one of the rebels would be portrayed by a human actor instead. What was another can of worms, altogether.

“I didn’t feel that helpless when CyberLife was still pulling my strings”, Connor spoke up. “Didn’t we win the revolution? I know we did, only it doesn’t feel like it. At all.”

“You aren’t getting payed to feel”, Gavin Reed remarked.

Connor shot the detective a long, thoughtful glance. Eventually he said: “But I am getting payed. As part of the team I’m bound to this farce, but I, Connor, have not signed anything. Getting out of the contract is as easy as quitting.”

“Quit policework? You?!” Gavin sputtered. “What the fuck, you’re threatening everyone’s job security already, and now your own, too?! You’re batshit-crazy, mate!”

“For real!” Daniel added. “Even if it is no longer what you ARE, it is what you LOVE!”

And giving up something or someone that was dear to one was just unthinkable to the janitor.

Connor grabbed them both and pulled them into a huddle.

“Of course I won’t! But make the public believe I might, that I will do! Before androids there was the internet and it is still a powerful tool in our hands! If the public sees what lengths I’m prepared to go to to distance myself from the movie, some will start thinking. Ey… a few, anyway.”

“And you’re doing this because of the kiss?”

“Because of everything, Daniel. But also the kiss, yes.”

“Ah! Fancy North yourself, huh? Or Markus?”

“No! Neither!”

“Then who? Simon maybe?”

“Or Hank?”

“I do not fancy any human or android!”

“Of course you’d say that. Now look…”

And while Reed and the two androids were arguing, Hank Anderson leaned back on his chair with a smirk. This was exactly the sort of trouble a young man should have to deal with: His co-workers teasing him about a love interest. Not sorting out the problems of all of androidkind. Connor’s plan had merit, that much Hank had to agree. But setting that plan in motion could wait until after the youth had had a chance to be alive today.

#non sims #detroit become human #dbh #dbhtextpost #dbh textpost

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shadows-echoes · 6 years

Text

Of Blood and Biocomponents - Pt. 3

(This beautiful gif isn’t mine! Gif source here!!)

Pairing: Ruthless!Connor x reader

Summary: A soulmate AU where injuries from one person appear on the body of the other.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and injuries, swearing, the usual.

Word Count: 4.4k

Masterlist // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 (epilogue)

Working the late shift at your job wasn’t something you minded much. Obviously, it wasn’t your favorite shift but, then again, your job wasn’t exactly your dream job either. It was work; it paid the bills. In this precise moment, however, you find yourself cursing the late-night hours you were assigned and the dark, almost empty streets you were thusly left to walk down.

“Listen,” you calmly address, “all I’ve got on me is a used textbook and a broken phone.”

The lie leaves your lips easily- or as easily as it could considering the circumstances. In truth, you also have twenty bucks and a few bus tickets on you. And while the textbook is used, it still costs half a month’s worth of rent for some godforsaken reason.

But the man standing a measly few feet away pointing a gun at you doesn’t need to know that little detail.

His face is shadowed by the distinct lack of light filtering into the grungy alley and obscured by a low hood. Even so, you’re careful to keep your eyes on him and not on the dark, semi-reflective gun he held. He looks about your age if not a bit older, from what you can tell, and his clothes don’t exactly fit the definition of clean. He looks… Well, he looks rough to put it one way, and the gun he clutches doesn’t look to be fairing much better.

“Shut up,” he barks, “just hand over your bag!”

The nerves standing on edge throughout every inch of your body and your racing, jumping mind don’t help you in the slightest, you know. So, grinding your teeth, you force down the fear. You bury the alarm- channel it into something useful, something more productive than anxiety, a flying heartrate, and shaking limbs: anger. An anger that brewed just below the surface, roused by inequity.

Did you really want to risk the possibility of being shot over some cash and a scribbled-in textbook? Yes. Yes, you absolutely do. Is it worth it- worth more than your life? No. Well, maybe in today’s economy but that wasn’t the point. You should’ve been halfway home by now, safe, and blocking out the memories of the shift you just finished.

With careful movements, you slowly slide the old backpack from your shoulders as you eye the man before you, biding your time, thinking.

You hear it just as you’re extending the bag towards him.

Sirens.

Police sirens, to be exact. And they sounded awfully close by.

It was almost comical, the way the two of you freeze, eyes darting towards the opening of the alley before darting back to each other. Watching. Waiting.

For one long breath you don’t dare to breathe, that’s all there is: sirens. Sirens, you observing him, and him observing you.

Police.

Witnesses.

Help.

Opportunity.

Internally, you smirk.

His fingers shake as he readjusts his hold, grip tightening around the handle of the gun. He jerks his head sharply in warning, no doubt guessing the thoughts running through your mind. “Don’t-”

The rest of the threat is silenced.

Holding tightly to your bag, you swing it with as much force as you can muster at his hand- at the gun. The weapon clatters to the ground and skids across the rough concrete, but just as it does your mind registers the burning sensation ripping across your chest and the gunshot ringing in your ears.

You ignore it.

The piercing sound, the searing feeling, the undoubtedly bloody consequences- you ignore all of it. You don’t freak out or lose your mind- you might not have time for that. So you swallow down the simmering anger you’d channeled, the half-foreign surge of rage urging you to deck the guy and drag him out of this alleyway and right up to the police, and instead do the smart thing.

You use what’s left of his surprise to your advantage, and you run.

Your reception at the hospital went about as well as you could’ve imagined. Nurses smiled at the return of your familiar face before quickly scowling once they caught sight of blood that soaked your shirt.

The wound was not that bad, at least in regard to the others you’d received on previous occasions. It was more of a deep graze above your ribs than a bullet wound. You were even able to make your statement to the police while you were getting stitched up; it wasn’t a big deal.

At least… to you.

Within five minutes of finally, finally, making it back to your apartment at some god-awful hour in the early morning, there was a knock on the door. You had half a mind to ignore it in favor of collapsing into bed and sleeping, and half a mind to answer only so you could tell whoever it was to get lost.

You were not sure what you were expecting when you did end up opening the door, you were hardly awake enough to imagine much at all by this point, but it certainly wasn’t Connor.

Connor stands on your doorstep.

He looks identical to when you first met him two weeks ago. The staple Cyberlife jacket, the white dress shirt and charcoal tie, the dark jeans, even the stray piece of hair that fell to the side of his forehead, it was all the same. Eerily so. But… not quite as eerie as him knowing where you lived and... dropping by.

His expression is void of pleasantries. It was blank, analyzing, but his eyes… As you gape up at him, your breath lodged in your throat, you find yourself suddenly acutely pleased that looks alone could not kill.

There had been absolute radio-silence between you and Connor over the last two weeks, not a single word had passed your teeth or was transferred through your skin. It was what you expected considering what he is. What you hadn’t quite dared to expect, however, was fewer soul-wounds. Or rather, less brutal ones.

Whether you had actually gotten through to him -doubtful- or he simply desired to avoid you -far more likely-, didn’t particularly matter to you. In the end, the result was the same: two full weeks without any relatively vital injuries. It had been… nice. A relief you didn’t want to question.

Your first and only encounter proved what you had already gathered through your research when originally trying to track him down: that Connor had no limits when it came to his missions. That he has a body count and is not programmed to feel remorse. Or guilt. Or regret. That he detests, if such an emotion were possible for him, anything relating to sentimentality.

Despite this, and much to your dismay, he still intrigued you as much as he appalled you. But knowing what you did of him, any thought, any fleeting inclination to reach out, to understand, was nevertheless burned. The mere idea of it was shoved down into the dark recesses of your mind, barricaded, and dutifully ignored. It was better that way. Soulmates you may be, but acquaintances you were not. You were content so long as you were no longer forced to frequent the hospital.

“Did you know that if the trajectory of the bullet that hit you had been eleven degrees to the left it would have vitally damaged one of my main biocomponents?” he asks, the edge to his voice sharper than any knife.

The greeting -or lack thereof- immediately erases your surprise, replacing it with an incredulousness that reaches your bones.

What, so he was allowed to get shot and burned and broken and bruised until it was probably cheaper to be uploaded into a new body than be repaired, until you were littered with wounds and buried in debt, but you get grazed by one bullet and suddenly you’re the problem?

Perhaps you should’ve seen something like this coming, you idly realize, considering how well he handled you falling down a goddamn flight of stairs. Perhaps you should learn to associate that warm, instantaneous surge of frustration with him alone, considering the feeling overwhelmed you whenever he opened that mouth of his.

“No, actually,” you retort, “I was a bit too busy getting shot.” Obviously, you’d known implicitly that he was okay since you weren’t dead, but the thought of how the bullet may have affected Connor hadn’t exactly crossed your mind. A graze had never stopped him in the past. “Why are you here?”

“As I’ve already said, your injuries are highly inconveniencing and they have now disrupted my missions on multiple occasions,” he answers flatly. “That needs to change.”

The finality of his last few words sends a shiver of unease up your spine and your eyes narrow. However daunting the words may be, however, they failed to explain his presence. Sentimentality wasn’t an option and he wasn’t here to permanently end you for being a hindrance otherwise he would have done so already. If it was a hypocritical reproach he was seeking, it could be done far more easily, more quickly, through your skin.

“You will learn how to fight in order to prevent such instances in the future.”

It’s a simple statement that leaves no room for debate and it is said with a deadly serious expression, but that does little to wither the amusement suddenly working through your system.

Something between a scoff and a laugh pulls itself from your throat in disbelief. “You’re going to teach me how to fight?”

“At this rate, it will take even longer than I anticipated but yes,” he informs. Not waiting for an answer, for an affirmation, for anything or anyone, Connor pushes past you and marches directly inside your apartment.

You whirl around, already shouting, “what are you- I haven’t even agreed yet!”

Out in the world, in neutral territory, you had no problem confronting him. But here? In your own apartment? He looked so entirely out of place in the domestic environment, in anything, you guessed, that wasn’t a battlefield. It felt like an invasion, like a crossover between the sanctity of your home and- and whatever he is. What little you really know about him all boils down to the fact that he is a deadly weapon by design. Common sense is the sole thing keeping you from attempting to force him out, you valued your life after all, but that does little to settle your rightful hostility.

“If you were opposed to the idea-” he begins, examining your apartment with a single, sweeping glance before turning towards you curtly, “-you would have tried to stop me from entering. You also do not have a choice in the matter. You will learn.”

For the second time in the last minute and a half, you are left agape. Only this time it isn’t from surprise, but from indignance and the slightest bit of trepidation which you would never admit to in a million years. But mostly from irritation because... Because he wasn’t entirely wrong.

While you still didn’t particularly want him here, the idea itself wasn’t bad. You were willing to do quite a bit to avoid needing as much medical assistance as you have since Connor was first created. So if learning appeased him, kept you from becoming gun fodder, then you weren’t exactly unwilling. You’d learned the basics of self-defense when you were younger and you still knew a couple of tricks, but tonight was evidence enough that a refresher wasn’t the absolute worst idea in the world.

Knocking Connor on his ass was also the very first thing you wanted to do upon learning of his existence so there was that too.

But it didn’t make any sense.

“Why?” you ask, meeting his predatory gaze with a calculating stare of your own. “Why would you teach me? If I’m that much of a problem for you why not just kill either one of us? You’d get a new body, right? It’s not like-”

“Your death,” he interrupts crisply, something awfully close to irritation gracing his sharp features, “would hinder my mission.”

The words make you freeze- freeze more rapidly and deeply than when you had a gun shoved in your face. More than when you stared down at your first gaping, bloody mess of a soul-wound in a stupor. More than when the idea of not having a soulmate had first seized you.

Because this was Connor, and somehow you were related to his mission.

A sickening silence ensues as your head spins trying to make sense of it, to connect the dots you couldn’t see, ones you didn’t even know existed until now.

“What’s your mission?” you ask, suddenly wary, suddenly unsure of your own footing.

Connor doesn’t deign to give you an answer.

“This is hardly fair, you can’t even feel pain.”

“How unfortunate. Now, attempt to punch me.”

“I really don’t want a black eye. They’re kind of a bitch to deal with in case you didn’t know.”

“You won’t get one.”

Connor only stands an arm’s length in front of you and yet you have to tilt your head up to hold his eyes- the eyes that are currently staring condescendingly down at you. He raises his dark eyebrows tauntingly at your hesitancy, and the request for further elaboration dies on your lips.

It would definitely be worth it, you decide, receiving any self-imposed soul-wounds so long as you got to punch that stupid, perfect face of his, to create some kind of change in his expression and across his skin.

Shifting your stance to align with the one he’d instructed you to stand in, the one he drilled into your brain, you form a fist with your hand and aim for the spot between his eye and nose.

Your knuckles never connect.

Before your fist comes remotely close to making contact, Connor’s already blocked the move, taken a step towards you, and slammed the palm of his hand against your non-leading shoulder.

The hard flooring does nothing to soften your landing and only serves to knock the air from your lungs. Pain radiates through your shoulder, the one you landed on, and a wheezing cough escapes you before you’re able to regain enough breath to properly groan.

“It’s bold, unlikely, and entirely premature of you to assume your hits will land,” he intones.

Connor towers above where you lie, and, glaring up at him, the inside of your cheek stings from the force your teeth exert in an effort to prevent yourself from saying anything you would regret.

In this precise moment you decide to stop caring altogether about what wounds, soul or otherwise, you might receive through training with him. The cold expression which seemed to be a staple of his, a fixed permanent of all that is Connor, was possibly the most irritating thing you’d ever encountered in your entire life, and you decide that you would wipe it off his face if it was the last thing you do.

Connor catches your leg, abruptly stopping the roundhouse kick by wrapping an arm around your calf and securing it against his side, locking you in place.

“You are still leading with your leg. There needs to-”

“Be a straight line from shoulder to knee, I know,” you drone, rolling your eyes at him.

You wished you were performing the steps “incorrectly” only to pester him, to ire him for your own amusement, but that constant feeling in your chest, that need to one-up him, remained as strong as ever. Though, his opinion of human ability was already so incredibly low that you doubted there was much you could do to lower it further -not that the thought hadn’t crossed your mind a couple dozen times-.

He’d gone over the procedure again and again by this point, and you could recite the clipped lecture word for word, perform the steps exactly as dictated, entirely certain you were doing so correctly. But, unsurprisingly, it never seemed to quite meet his standards.

You attempt to pull back your leg so you could try the move again, or maybe stand on two feet while he lectures you, but Connor holds on, his fingers digging into your skin.

“If you know then why aren’t you doing it?”

Wrestling back a scoff, you use your shin to push off against his side before yanking your leg out of his grip. It was, you learned, the best way to get out of the hold he had on you… Except Connor lets go just as you push off.

The unexpected lack of resistance sends you flying, but his hand wraps around your brachium just before you hit the ground.

But he doesn’t pull you up.

He keeps you there, hanging awkwardly above the floor as his gaze digs into your own as if to hollow you from the inside out.

“Keep a straight line. From your shoulder. To your knee.”

“Do you know what happened to him?”

“I’m not here to answer your questions, however vague.”

“So..?” you prod, throwing another few punches at Connor in quick succession. His words had been a dismissal, sure, but they were also all the confirmation you needed. Lines were easy to read between after all, and the things he doesn’t say are becoming more apparent the more time you spend with him.

You followed up with the police to see if they had had any luck catching the guy who shot you, who tried to mug you, but they had lost him entirely. The police said he must’ve gone underground “or something” because there wasn’t any trace of him after that night.

Connor wasn’t the police, but if anyone knew or could find information about some random mugger it would be him.

He blocks your strikes with ease while answering blankly, “he’s no longer a concern.”

You pause mid-motion, brows scrunching up in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Taking advantage of the opportunity you inadvertently provided, Connor seizes your still wrists and leans down, towards you, so that his words are impossible to miss. “Through you, he damaged me. He is no longer a concern.”

Something dark flashes across his eyes, something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge, something that makes your hackles rise and a voice appear in the quiet recesses of your mind ordering you to run. It is only visible for half a second before it vanishes from his dark brown eyes, but it was long enough for you to realize that you had been wrong before. Looks most certainly could kill.

The words -because it had to be the words, and not his sudden unexpected proximity or the intensity he seemed to emit in waves- sends a sliver of ice down your spine and a critical awareness of your surroundings, of yourself, of every inch of him, racing through your brain.

You do not flinch under Connor’s scrutiny, instead remembering the man who shot you and the lengths he was willing to go to, the stitches you were forced to receive.

“Good.”

Grabbing your outstretched arm, Connor pulls and spins in one swift motion until he has you in a headlock. Not wasting a single precious moment of time, you shift to the side, behind him, and place your foot behind his. Then you simply grab onto the hard plains that are his torso and tug. Gravity does the rest.

Connor’s arm leaves your throat to brace for the impact and you twist to the side the second you’re free. You keep twisting as you fall, and rolling once you hit the ground, until all your limbs are successfully untangled from his and you come to a stop a few feet away.

It was a perfect recreation of the maneuver and a smug, satisfied smirk lines your face as you shift onto your knees. But the self-indulgent reverie is incredibly short-lived. A second later, before you’re able to congratulate yourself, throw a jibe at Connor, or even stand up, he’s on you again.

He knocks you off balance, onto your back, and follows your descent until he’s hovering above you with a leg on either side. Too surprised to do much of anything, you end up doing nothing at all in the split second it takes for him to catch your arms and pin them to the ground beside your head.

His expression is a blank mask which borders on sharp -and it’s suddenly all too close- but Connor remains silent, his arched brow saying what his mouth currently isn’t. A wordless reminder of the rules he instilled in your mind.

Never allow yourself to be distracted.

Do not presume your opponents to be incapacitated.

Never let your guard down.

Do not stop fighting until your opponents are wholly incapacitated or dead.

You know the words. You know what he wants you to remember, but the actual thoughts which race through your brain just slightly too fast to be caught and cast out are of a completely different sort. They’re of that awareness which seemed to pop up, out of nowhere, at the most inopportune times. Of the thin layer of perspiration that covers you. Of Connor looming above, practically straddling you. Of the low electrical current running through your body and the places where your skin seemed to burn under his touch. Of the vicious whirlwind of a storm that is always -or did it just appear?- raging in his eyes.

You’re pinned down by a brutal, relentless machine, rejecting every single thought and feeling coursing through you, and all you allow yourself to do- all you can do, is laugh.

“You couldn’t even let me have that, could you?”

“What?”

“You are sleep-deprived.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I told you I had to pull an all-nighter.”

“You are too inefficient while in this state. Go.”

“Do your employers know about these little side-trips of yours?”

From the other side of the room, Connor shoots you a narrow-eyed look. “You know I do not have employers. I have owners and I have missions.”

As terrible as they were, it wasn’t his words that struck you the most. It was the way Connor said them- like it was an indisputable fact, something not worth thinking twice about, something that should’ve been obvious. It threw you, created a feeling of dread in your stomach and resentment behind your ribs. Maybe it was because you hadn’t thought about the question in such terms before this point, but his answer, and the truth in it, appalled you with a striking intensity you weren’t prepared for.

“Dude, that’s fucked up,” you state, planting the water bottle in your hand none-too-gently back on the table.

To your surprise, Connor, for once, doesn’t comment. His gaze is calculating but whether he’s analyzing your words or their meaning you don’t particularly care to decipher. He wasn’t affronted by his own statement and its truth and that vexes you half as much as the injustice did.

You scoff. “Look, if you’re alive enough to have a soulmate, you’re alive enough be considered a person.”

The dry comment half spoken under your breath passes your lips without thought, without consent, and you know, immediately, that it was the wrong thing to say. That it was probably the worst thing you could say.

The moment the words are vocalized, Connor’s entire frame stiffens and locks into place. The predatory glint was all at once back in his eyes, the one that hunted, the one that saw everything- that saw too much. The change is not drastic considering Connor was methodical in his every action but… But it is.

You hadn’t realized his shoulders were not as uncomfortably and unnervingly straight as physically possible until they suddenly were. You hadn’t realized that the tension in the air was no longer one of irritation or distaste until it was once again picking at your skin, that the atmosphere was begrudgingly passable as pleasant until it was once again hostile.

Just as there existed the unspoken deal that both of you would restrict the number of vital injuries obtained, so that Connor could complete his missions uninterrupted and you stood a chance at not randomly bleeding out at school, a second deal also existed. Except it wasn’t quite a deal but rather a law. A law that stipulated the s-word was never to be uttered, the topic of soulmates never to be mentioned, and the fact that you two were soulmates entirely, thoroughly, and wholly dismissed and disregarded without exception.

“We might be… connected-” he snarls, practically spitting the word “-in some meaningless way but if you are clinging on to some foolish human illusion then I suggest you dispose of it immediately.”

Once, the dark look he was giving you, the one he wore so well, and the cutting sharpness of his voice, both tells and promises of a lack of mercy, would have stilled you. Once, his detachment that was so entirely and unavoidably inhuman, a reminder of the machine that he is, would have given you pause, made your muscles falter and your resolve waver.

But Connor had since bled before your eyes. You had since made him bleed, bruise for but a fraction of a second before his cooled, synthetic skin repaired itself. You had experienced his every injury for yourself. Connor was ruthless, preeminent, that much was a given. He was calculating and methodical and shrewd and without one single line of pity written into his code. He didn’t have a heart, literally and figuratively. He was the perfect machine. But that’s all he was. After all, those all-powerful beings couldn’t bleed.

And you’re angry now. So instantaneously and extraordinarily angry that you refuse to look at the feeling too closely, preferring the simmering blood in your veins over- over whatever else lurked there. Over what you don’t want to admit, let alone acknowledge the existence of.

No, anger was far better; rage was safer.

“Believe me,” you snarl right back, baring your teeth at the living weapon that he is. “I disposed of that before I even met you.”

It was true.

The words are true.

You know they are, there was no other option. They have to be true.

But they leave a bitter taste on your tongue regardless.

A/N: I took some liberties with this one and I’m a mix of ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ because Idk how it turned out but it was surprisingly fun to write so… hope you liked it!

Let me know what you think!

This was also supposed to be a quick little montage squished between two other scenes but it turned into its own part. At the inception of this story, I promised myself it wouldn’t become as long as The Logic of Emotion because ain't nobody got time for that but… the way things are going I might end up breaking that deal *insert ugly sobbing here*

Tags: @aya-fay @syrinxgm @quartetstarheaven @kylobien @silverconduit @dramaticalabiter @aeryntheofficial @nissistylinson @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @the-smol-onion @adaydreaminganon @warriorqueennorthlotus @swordsandserpents @deviantsupporter @iamthunderstorm18 @goddessofthegeeks @dragonempress123 @alexkunis @robin-rokossovsky @moramortar @nerdylittoyvoid (names with a strikethrough couldn’t be tagged)

#ruthless!connor x reader #connor rk800 x reader #connor dbh x reader #dbh connor x reader #connor rk800 x gender neutral reader #ruthless!connor #detroit: become human #soulmate au

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writeyouin · 5 years

Text

Connor X Fem-Reader – Do You Dream? Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – To Like is Not to Love.

A/N – So, while this chapter doesn’t specifically go into sex or anything, being a crime fic it gets pretty gory mentioning some assaulters and stuff that you may want to avoid. Read at your own discretion and stay safe.

Warnings – Swearing, themes of sex, crime, and drugs.

Rating – T+

Connor felt terrible, like he was the scum of the Earth for not trusting you to do your job properly even though he knew you could. Yet, as he weaved through the throng of drunken people at the hottest club in Detroit ‘Sunset Vista,’ he told himself it was for the best, so long as he didn’t make it a habit. You were his best friend and his partner; he refused to let you take on a serial killer with only Gavin as backup.

He scanned his surroundings, hating that people kept jostling him even though he was standing perfectly still, and why as the music so loud? It didn’t even have a good beat. Connor knew you. He knew you hated this kind of music. You hated the flashing lights and crowds. You hated the stench of sweat, vomit and smoke that filled the stale air. You hated the kind of seedy people who swooped in, treating you like you were theirs to play with. You shouldn’t be here, you should be hanging out with Hank and Sumo… and him.

Connor spotted Gavin in a booth in the very corner of the room, speaking into a mouthpiece. He followed Gavin’s line of sight, finding you at the bar with your back to him, talking with a man, presumably your suspect.

Connor dived behind a pillar, even though he knew you wouldn’t see him. He got distracted momentarily by the tacky décor, his face scrunching up disgustedly at the sight of two people next to him making out and were they…? Yes. Yes, they were. He didn’t want to think about how dirty the rest of the club was since the couple were far on their way to third base in public.

Ignoring them, Connor got back to watching you, wishing immediately that he hadn’t. He balled his fists against the pillar upon seeing you perched on a bar stool, with the hands of a possible killer sneaking up your dress to feel up your legs. That was a long dress, one that didn’t invite any unwanted touching, but there he was, doing it anyway and you were helpless to stop him.

Connor ran the man’s face through his built-in criminal database, finding a match on several old cases of aggravated sexual assault. “Figures,” he murmured moodily. “Pervert.”

Looking back to Gavin, Connor saw that he’d hid his microphone behind a large coke. That was good, it meant he was doing his job. Connor tapped into the ear piece, listening to Gavin’s instructions to you and promised himself again it would just be this once.

He believed in your ability as a Detective, but you’d never been against a murderer this sick before. The cops in the precinct had nicknamed the killer ‘The Fornication Flayer’. Connor had examined the contents of Gavin’s case file, which had inevitably driven him to stalking you now, but how could he not? The Fornication Flayer lured innocent young women away from bars such as this one, probably promising them a good time, then tortured and murdered them in the most vile, horrific manner. Whoever he was, he flayed the skin off his victims up to the neck, leaving the face perfectly preserved, and then proceeded to have intercourse with the corpses, which had been found out by the semen left behind; the coroner’s reports also revealed that the women were alive during the flaying, dying slowly from shock or eventual blood loss.

Connor’s perfect memory had stored every word and image, and he wished to RA9 he’d never opened the damned file. You’d only been chosen for this case because you happened to resemble the victims. Connor couldn’t stop picturing your face atop the victims’ flayed bodies, tortured and violated; he was glad he couldn’t physically vomit, sure he would have had he not been an android.

“-doing good (Y/N), but I need you to flirt more.”

Connor was dragged back to reality at the sound of your name; it was Gavin speaking to you through your wire.

“I’m pretty sure this is our guy, you have to be irresistible. He needs to think you’re going home with him. Ask him if he lives alone and for God’s sake feel him up a bit.”

You laughed girlishly, having an entirely different conversation with your suspect, Alastair Forrest. “Stupid hair,” Connor growled, glaring murderously at the man’s blonde quiff, by far his most defining feature. “Sunglasses indoors… Is this an episode of CSI?”

You leaned forward slightly, showing off your cleavage and placing hand on Alastair’s chest. Connor found an even deeper hatred for the man, but more worrying, the undefinable ache had come back with a vengeance. ‘Not now,’ He prayed. ‘Please, not now.’

“Really?” You simpered. “You live all by yourself? Wow, what’s your room like? I have this theory see, that people look like their bedrooms… I bet yours is all dark and mysterious and sexy.”

Connor couldn’t hear what Alastair was saying from your mic, nor could he lipread with the accursed flashing lights. He could guess however, maybe he was saying that he was an idiot and that he wasn’t worth your time… Apparently not. Alastair gestured to the bartender casually.

“Oh, another drink?” You asked.

‘Another drink?!’ Connor had to force himself not to jump out there and then. He couldn’t believe Gavin had let you drink on this mission, that idiot couldn’t have commanded you to say you were allergic to alcohol? Connor knew it wold have been a stupid excuse but the idea of sharing casual drinks with a psychopath didn’t sit well with him.

“But I’m already feeling so light-headed,” You said, playing your part as well as you could. “Can’t we just go back to your place?”

Alastair verbally recoiled, “I don’t know about that.”

Gavin weighed in on the wire, “We’re losing him, backtrack and get the damn drink.”

You played with your hair cutely, “Well…I guess one more shot couldn’t hurt.”

Alastair grinned charmingly, turning to get the drink and deftly drugging it.

“Don’t drink,” Gavin warned. “It’s drugged. Play a distraction, I’ve got this.”

Connor breathed a sigh of relief at Gavin’s words; at least he was paying attention. Acting fast, you crushed your body against Alastair’s, dragging his face to yours for an impromptu make-out session in a way only the drunk or inexperienced do, ever dedicated to your role as the intoxicated, unworldly girl you were supposed to be.

Connor was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of feelings that hit him, each simultaneously vying for his attention, yet being completely indistinguishable from one another. He touched his face absently, finding wet tracks from his eyes. It didn’t make sense, why was he crying? It had to be concern for you right? After all, you were his best friend and you were being forced to pimp yourself out to a criminal.

Connor was at least able to feel some relief when he saw Gavin make a twirling motion with his hand to the bartender. The bartender, evidently a plant, nodded, swapping your drugged drink for an identical one.

“‘Kay lover girl, you’re in the clear. Drink up and act drugged after,” Gavin said.

“Sorry,” You breathed, letting Alastair go and picking up your drink. “Got lost in the moment. Cheers.”

Connor was again tempted to blow his cover and beat Alastair to a pulp there and then after seeing his smug smile. Instead, he watched you and Alastair head to the back exit, you leaning on him for support. Connor spared one last look to Gavin who was close behind, unholstering his gun, and following you closely.

Connor forced himself to count slowly to five, then followed, wishing he was also allowed a gun in case things somehow got worse, but laws took time to change and as an android, he still wasn’t allowed a firearm of any kind. By the time he got to the exit overlooking the staff parking lot, a weight was lifted from his shoulders. You’d handcuffed Alastair and were leading him to Gavin’s beat up Mustang.

After only one night, you had broken a police record, capturing a serial killer. It was unprecedented, but Connor didn’t care about the achievement, so long as things would go back to normal and you’d be partnered back with him and Hank. He hoped he’d forget the ache that plagued him, and you would never know he was there. After watching the three of you drive away, he went home.

“What?” Connor asked through gritted teeth. He was in the precinct with Hank, listening to your account of the night before. As it happened, Alastair wasn’t the killer, he was however being charged with several other cases of sexual assault that he’d confessed to during interrogation. Naturally, because you weren’t a miracle cop who’d captured a serial killer on your first go, you were still partnered up with Gavin until the case was over.

“Well, yeah, I-” You stopped, hearing Gavin called your name, beckoning you over. “Duty calls guys, see you later.”

Connor waited till you were out of earshot before addressing Hank; he needed advice where it came to his ache. “I don’t like this.”

Hank nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah… Working a case like that, it’s fuckin’ tough.”

Connor sat perfectly still, contemplating what little he knew about his recent string of problems concerning you. “No,” He said slowly. “Hank, I think something’s wrong with me.”

Hank straightened up, immediately showing concern. “What is it, Connor? Is it Cyberlife? Is Amanda back?”

“It’s (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)? Shit Connor, every cop has a rough case once in a while, you know that.”

“No, you don’t understand. She’s my best friend and last night I was- I was scared for her so I… I followed her and I saw something… something bad, but worse, I felt something I didn’t understand.”

Hank frowned, waiting for Connor to elaborate. In his early days of deviancy this had happened a lot; Connor would explain an emotion he didn’t understand, and Hank would help him through it, till he could handle things better.

Connor stared at a spot in the air, probably seeing a million things Hank couldn’t, and still he said nothing. Growing annoyed with the silence, Hank spoke gruffly, “Spit it out already.”

Connor took a deep breath, not that he needed to; it was just one of the many ticks he’d been programmed with to make integration with humans easier. “Last night (Y/N) had to create a distraction. She kissed that- that criminal! I can’t get it out of my head Hank. I know she was only following orders, but it was wrong! I didn’t like it.”

If Connor had expected some kind of fatherly advice at that moment, he was sorely mistaken. As it was, Hank shook his head disgustedly, annoyed with Connor’s ignorance. “Connor, you fuckin’ idiot.”

Connor blinked rapidly, startled by the response.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!” Hank pointed warningly.

“I don’t understand. What’s wrong with me?”

“A whole bunch of shit, but none of that has anything to do with this. You were jealous last night idiot. You like (Y/N), that’s all.”

Connor slumped forward, considering Hank’s explanation carefully, “Of course I like her, we’re best friends.”

“No, you’re friends with my damn dog, you like (Y/N).”

“I don’t-”

“Do I have to spell it out?! Step up and ask her out so you can stop bothering me with this shit. Damn it, I don’t wanna see you get mopey about this, ya hear?”

Connor shot up quickly, knocking the desk hard enough to make the computer atop it wobble unceremoniously. He finally understood the double entendre ‘like,’ but that didn’t mean it was true, did it? You were his best friend, he didn’t see you in a romantic light, right? His LED flickered yellow as he analysed his actions over the last twenty-four hours. Hank had to be wrong. He cross-referenced his behaviour with research he’d compiled on humans. It couldn’t be true. Only one result came back from his extensive search.

Hank was right, Connor liked you as more than a friend. Worse however, was the green monster jealousy he felt when he glanced over at you, working so closely with his long-time rival, Gavin Reed; he didn’t like it one bit.

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redsdesktop · 6 years

Text

DBH: Deviant Dynamics

Chapter 9

Warnings: Violence, guns, and death. And torture. Cover your eyes children.

The speed they were going wasn't exactly legal, far from it. Connor's fingers tightened into Conrad's jacket. Without being the one controlling the motorcycle, he was leaving his fate into the other android's hands. While he felt completely open to danger, riding without the safety of a car around him, his mind calculated all the possible ways they could crash. Which likely wasn't helping his stress levels. However, that fear sent a rush of adrenaline through him, making him feel something completely unexpected. Excitement. The thrill of no longer being in control while hurtling through so many dangerous situations, to have to accept whatever fate happened to him.

The world blurred past him, with Conrad's body blocking the view in front of him, his simulation program couldn't properly run, leaving him virtually blind. However, Conrad was supposedly an upgraded model, the best of their kind at the present moment as he weaved through traffic with little to no effort. Car horns blared but faded all too quickly as humans and androids were startled by the higher pitched hum of the sports motorcycle as it sped past them. While they were part of the police department, Conrad should've taken at least some sort of consideration to the citizens around them. Connor had no chance to apologize to them anyways as the wind whipped his jacket around behind him, making him realize he should've buttoned it up first.

The address of the hostage situation was getting closer, one of the police operators had transferred them the address and Conrad had already calculated the quickest possibly route, not exactly the safest though. Connor tightened his arms around Conrad, no longer caring about the fact he was practically smashed up against the other android's back, enough that he could feel Conrad's warmth through their clothes. He should've went with Hank to grab some food, but he had the curse of concern for those around him. That care had been the reason he'd deviated and betrayed Amanda, but had also given him friends and people who saw him more than just a means to an end.

The bike slowed as red and blue lights reached his vision, Conrad easily weaving through the parked police vehicles so they could be closer to the front of the house. Once the bike came to a stop, Conrad leaned so he could keep the bike up with one foot planted on the ground. Connor took it as his cue to dismount and remove his helmet, setting it on the seat. Raking his hands through his hair to get it back to its proper style, professional but with a stray strand curling on his forehead to give him a more relaxed look. Conrad had a similar style but such a misplaced strand only made him look more dangerous, how Cyberlife mastered the art of appearances was impressive.

Connor examined the front of the house, expanding his reconstructing software to see if he could find anything amiss that might help him before he entered the fray. Police had the residential home surrounded, there would be no escaping for this android. He scanned through the information he received from the department. The house had been recently abandoned by humans fleeing the revolution and had been legally purchased by an android couple, there were no records of any problems from either of them, at least not enough to warrant police involvement.Connor took the lead as this field was his specialty as he examined the yard. The grass was meticulously groomed, even the flowers were perfectly arranged to be appealing to the eye.

As he stepped up onto the porch, he could hear the noise inside, the crying of a woman and the angry shouting of a man. Connor glanced over to see Hank standing by the door, waiting for him more than likely. "Lieutenant." He addressed professionally since they were on the job, Hank didn't bother insisting as he looked annoyed, which meant he was troubled. Those blue eyes slide past him to catch sight of Conrad who had moved behind Connor, like a silent shadow who's presence took up an entire room. Hank let out an agitated growl but let it slide for now, they had bigger problems at the moment.

"The asshole in there has a gun, seems like he found out his girl was cheating on him with the gardener." Hank informed them of the situation as of now, making Connor frown just slightly. Androids were still a bit unpredictable as some were still sorting through their deviancy and programming, feeling emotions for the first time could be taxing. Humans had years to develop their emotions, how to control them, but androids were still new at it and with their intelligence and strength, it was a dangerous combination.

"Where's the gardener?" Connor questioned as he stared at the door, it probably wouldn't be wise to have the gardener around in such a tense situation. If the gardener ended up hearing about what was going on, they might rush to the scene and accidentally make things worse.

"We tried getting in contact with her, but she didn't answer. The other officers have been given a picture of her, in case she decides to show up on the scene." Hank ran his hand over his gray beard, he'd cleaned up a little due to Connor's insistence, but he still managed to keep that bitter look about him. Connor didn't mind, as long as he didn't look like he'd just stumbled onto the scene straight out from a bar. While Connor couldn't completely stop the older alpha from drinking, the man had cut back considerably. Despite all those protest, Hank took Connor's pestering seriously to some degree.

After scanning through all the information he gathered, Connor stepped up to the door and knocked loudly but still holding some politeness to it, simply wanting to gain the other android's attention. "Hello, Tyler?" He called out the android's name, one that was newly acquired after androids gained their freedom, to gain a certain identity despite looking similar to a mass of other androids. "My name is Connor, I'm the negotiator and I was wondering if it would be okay if I came in to talk. Alone and unarmed." He would give the android an option, to judge how much the other would be able to cooperate.

Though when he said that, he felt a familiar presence prickle along his spine, causing him to look over his shoulder to see Conrad had moved even closer. He could already sense the disapproval from the newer model, but this wasn't the time to argue. "Yes, I'm going, this is what I'm designed for and before you even ask, no, you may not come. No offense, but I'm certain you'd get shot on sight." Connor whispered out before turning and pressing a hand on Conrad's chest to push the overbearing alpha away. After a moment, he gave in and took a step back, though his stoic and cold features seemed closed off. Reaffirming Connor's belief that he'd get shot on sight with just how threatening he looked.

The struggling inside momentarily ceased as if the android was thinking about his choices, a regular android model didn't have the same processing speed as an RK unit, but they were still quicker than a human's. "Fine! But come in with your hands where I can see them!" A shout finally broke the silence, giving Connor permission for what he needed. Grabbing the door handle, he slowly eased the door open, not wanting to startle the man with the gun as he eased himself in. Raising his hands up to show he was unarmed and wouldn't reach for a weapon, he used his foot to close the door behind him, briefly able to hear a growl from both Hank and Conrad.

Connor needed to gain the android's trust and leaving the door open so he could see all the police outside would only raise the stress levels. Connor activated his reconstruction program, time going still as he analyzed the room. There had been a huge struggle between the two, furniture was knocked over, thirium was spilled all over the floor from both parties. The male had caught the woman by surprise when she came home, having came at her with a gun. Shooting her in the shoulder, missing anything vital by a few inches, allowing the woman to attack in attempts to save her life. From the bullet holes in the wall, Connor judged that there was only one bullet left and the android currently holding the gun likely didn't know about that fact.

It was still a threat as he had the gun pointed at him, the female android was on the ground, her legs at odd angles, preventing her from escaping. Seeing how there was furniture knocked over in the path directly to the gunman, Connor knew his success in charging the man without being shot was low, too low to risk.It would take a painful amount of time to slowly navigate around the fallen furniture while keeping the other android distracted. He'd been in trickier situations though, not that he wanted to remember. Doing so would only serve to distract him, judging how much the night in that family's home still haunted him when he went into standby mode.

"Tyler, I'm unarmed and alone as promised, okay." He reassured but still kept his hands up, just in case. "I know its a very stressful situation to be in, but it'll be okay. What she did to you was wrong, but violence won't make you feel better." He moved closer, his movements slow and fluid as he stepped around a fallen barstool. "If you put down the gun, you can move on, find a better life.There are others who can help you, who've been through the exact same thing as you." Connor continued to talk, to keep the man distracted.

"She broke my heart!" The man cried out, shaking the gun a bit at Connor, making him freeze in his tracks. He had to calm the man down, but it seemed maybe he was a bit more unstable than Connor first assumed. "Now its her turn to suffer, to pay for what she did to me!" Connor's alarms went off inside his head, the stress levels had skyrocketed from just those few words. Upon seeing the gun begin to move, Connor had to stop the man before he shot the female on the ground. It was his job to protect the innocent, he jumped over a fallen side table, rushing the other android head on. At the last moment, Tyler noticed Connor running towards him and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rang out and a sudden force caused Connor to stumble back, his feet getting tangled in the legs of a chair. The world tilted and he crashed into the floor, errors and warning flared to life right before his vision. From his internal scan, he'd been shot just to the left of his thirium pump, making Connor feel like the luckiest android around with how many near death experiences he's been through. He'd have to apologize to Hank if he survived through this, depending on how quickly he was helped to stop the flow of thirium blossoming out over his white button up shirt.There were muffled sounds of a struggle but Connor couldn't really see much as he stared up at the ceiling.

There had only been one bullet left, so Connor figured it was safe for the police to break in now. After a shot being fired, they likely would enter since the situation had escalated. Once again his world tipped as strong arms pulled him into a sit, his body leaning against a warm and humanly soft body. "Hank?" His voice sounded slightly distorted, a mix between machine and human, unable to steady his voice output when his processes were overwhelmed with errors.

"I've got ya', son. Just don't fucking think you can get out of this that easy." A rough voice was muffled by his auditory sensors flickering in and out. Still though, he couldn't help but to lift one side of his lips in amusement at such a weak threat as Hank was trying his best to sound tough as usual.With Hank there, a hand pressed against his chest to stop the loss of Thirium, it made Connor wonder where Conrad was. His flickering vision shifted to scan the room until he finally located the other android. At first, Connor didn't know what the upgraded model was doing, but the longer he tried to focus, the clearer the image became.

Conrad had one foot planted in the center of the gunman's chest, his heel digging into the power cell, rendering the android beneath him immobile but aware. Aware of the fact that Conrad had his hands wrapped around the man's wrists and was slowly pulling upwards. Wiring and synthetic muscles snapped and broke as Conrad gaze coolly down at the man trapped beneath the sole of his dress shoe as if he'd just caught an insect beneath his shoe and decided to make it suffer first for having the audacity to cross his path.

Tubing was stretched to the point that it couldn't take the strain and finally snapped, sending thirium splashing all over Conrad's neatly polished shoes and perfectly pressed black slacks but he paid no heed to the mess. He made sure the android on the floor had to watch as Conrad pulled his arms out of their sockets slowly, making that fear build, the anticipation of the moment he would no longer feel his arms. Pain wasn't felt on a level like humans, but fear was and Conrad knew all too well on how to play with someone's fear.

Tossing the dismembered arms to the floor like they were useless wastes, he slide his foot up along the armless android's chest to apply pressure on the man's neck. Skin deactivated around the intense pressure as the android was forced to remain on the floor. This allowed Conrad to bend over, fingers pressing down, dull nails tearing through shirt fabric and the in between the white plating of the android until he seized the power cell between his percise fingers. Thirium welled around the tips of his fingers as he eased the cell out, letting the android feel his imminent demise and having no power to stop it. Straightening up, Conrad held the power cell to inspect with idle contempt. Those harsh gray eyes flicked down, catching the other android's green eyes. Once he held them, he crushed the power cell in his hand, letting the shattered pieces rain down on the other android who was faced with certain death now.

Removing his foot, Conrad dropped the rest of the pieces before moving his hand to his lips. His tongue dragging over the thirium that stained his fingers, like a predator who had just feasted. His eyes staring down with a chilled sort of satisfaction as the android gave a small shudder before going still. The last thing he had seen was the android who took sadistic pleasure in ending his life, who held no sort of intense emotion other than a mechanical delight.

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