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• CONNOR • RK800 a private & independent rp blog written by sarah

[cybersentandroid-blog]

;;ooc

that moment when you wake up to see that Jesse Williams has retweeted your post overnight.

brb, dying

[theaimsterk]

Connor’s story, a summary

[cybersentandroid-blog]

ooc

that feeling when @jericholeader takes your heart and proceeds to rip it into a thousand tiny pieces, but it’s okay because you asked for it ♥    

this is going to hurt so good

[cybersentandroid-blog]

ELIO:

Hearing Connor laugh makes his stomach do a few somersaults. It’s not something he does often even if Elio wished he did it more. The sound is so beautiful and honest. Now that he’s laying on top of him and gets the chance to study his face from up close for several seconds. Still waiting patiently for an answer while the android beneath him makes up his mind. Maybe his wording had been too bold and he is scaring him off. Elio had never been known for subtilty so he couldn’t blame him if he wanted to stop, even if that would sadden him.

When the answer finally comes he feels like ripping off his shirt – but again because this is new for him he holds himself back. After some tugging, he manages to get Connor’s shirt off so his hands are now free to go wherever they please. It’s like discovering a new land following the curves and lines of his body, his touch featherlight at first, his eyes darting to check up on his reaction every once in a while. “You’re beautiful.” He murmurs before diving in to taste his lips once more.

He’s never been undressed by any hands other than his own before, Elio’s fingers fumbling around the buttons of his shirt until the human apparently decides to bypass them completely, pulling the garment up and over Connor’s head in a series of short, impatient tugs. The sensation of Elio’s bare skin against Connor’s own is nothing short of electric -- he chases it greedily, looping both arms around Elio’s shoulders to drag him closer until he can feel the thud of his heartbeat humming through his chest. 

The soft words coax heat to Connor’s face, blue blood a navy flush beneath the surface of his skin. While it’s true he was designed with the intention of being aesthetically pleasing to most humans, he’s never been called beautiful before. The word sings through his head, high and bright, and Connor all but melts into the press of Elio’s lips. He wants to compliment him back, wants to shake his head and declare Elio the beautiful one, yet the most he can do is map the path of Elio’s spine with his palms until curious fingertips meet the waistband of his pants. They dance there, teasing, testing the weight of Elio’s reactions as they dip below the fabric.

[memexng]

On Thread Length

Some people use a lot of text when writing to show their muse’s mental state, some use it purely because their muse is talkative. But when things like that happen, some people stress over whether or not they should match length and it can be the reason some people have problems replying to things.

You do not need to match my length. My muses get lost in their heads/like to talk/just end up making me write a lot.

Write whatever you are comfortable with, because this is supposed to be fun and you should never be pressured to meet the length of your partner. Do what you want to, and hopefully by reblogging this, the mun of this blog will do the same.

[listenwithmyheart]

connor + his army of deviants :D epic scene, really

[cybersentandroid-blog]

AMELIA:

Amelia couldn’t believe that the day was finally here! It felt like she had been planning it for a life time & keeping the secret from Connor was one of the toughest things that she had had to do in a long time. Every time he would talk about Sumo or pet a dog in the street, the young woman had to bite her tongue to keep herself from blurting it out right then & there.

The blonde pretended not to notice the glance of one of the waitresses when they noticed Connor trailing in behind her, how they looked at their conjoined fingers. Did they recognise him as the deviant that helped Markus? Did they know that he was once the famous deviant hunter before he became deviant himself? Amelia didn’t care though. The revolution was in full swing & androids had been living their lives for months now, he was allowed to be here - after all, Amelia had already paid for it.

Blue eyes flickered to the android when she felt him tug slightly at her hand, watching as he moved closer to the gate, impatient as ever when he seen the dogs. She let Connor lead the way after that, smiling brightly as she watched all the dogs follow him. Silently, Amelia wished that humans were as accepting & loving as the dogs around Connor, they didn’t know that he was different & didn’t treat him as such. They just yipped happily & bounced along side him, waiting for the attention that he was about to give them.

Amelia sat down at the table, letting go of Connor’s hand to allow him to pet as many dogs as he could. It was the most wholesome sight that she had seen in years, dogs upon dogs wagging their tails & licking his hands in a desperate attempt to drown him in love. She could watch it forever.

When a Dalmatian nudged at her hand, she was brought back to reality, petting the dog with a smile before booping his nose. Connor’s voice brought Amelia’s eyes to him, her heart almost melting in her chest as she watched a Poodle attack him with affection. “You don’t have to repay me for anything, Connor.” Amelia shook her head, one hand petting the Dalmation, one hand scratching behind the ear of a Jack Russell. “I don’t want you to repay me. I just wanted to do something nice for you, that’s all.” She smiled down at Connor.

“I just wanted to see you smile & be happy. I know it’s been a bit tough for you recently, adapting with the revolution & learning how to cope with your emotions. So I just wanted to show you just how great happiness can feel, so just let me do that.”

Connor could only stare at her in mute reply, stunned into silence for the first time in his short life. He had questions, of course --- most pressing of which being why Amelia would want such a selfless thing from him --- yet his lips refused to shape them, LED spinning a burning shade of redredred.

He’d known human kindness before, Connor’s reluctance to follow his android allies to the new Jericho prompting Hank into gruffly offering his own home as a refuge. The delight Connor had felt then had been enough to leave his eyes burning and his chest tight, Hank waving away his babbled words of thanks with a pat on the shoulder and a mild threat not to clean up after him. But this? This was something so incredibly sweet, so touching in its lack of ulterior motive, that Connor’s processors struggled to fully understand its full weight.

She only wanted him to be happy.

The poodle licked his cheek again, almost knocking him off-balance; Amelia’s smile was bright and her eyes soft, the residual warmth of her hand still prickling his skin.

He was happy.

Lowering his eyes to the dog’s curled fur, Connor allowed a small, modest smile to shape his lips. “You’re a good friend, Amelia.” 

Maybe she didn’t want to be repaid, but that wouldn’t stop Connor from trying.

The waitress returned with their drinks, and though Connor was sure they were aware that he was an android -- he’d made no attempt to hide the LED at his temple, after all -- they’d still provided two delicate china cups to accompany the gently steaming teapot. Connor eyed it curiously as he reluctantly left the dogs to take his seat opposite Amelia. While he couldn’t drink the tea, exactly, he could ingest small amounts of liquid, and taste beyond a simple acknowledgement of ingredients. He’d tried sipping the coffee at the police station once, wrinkling his nose in disgust much to Hank’s amusement. Was tea the same, thick and bitter on his tongue? He hoped not.

Lifting the teapot, Connor leaned over to pour Amelia’s first, daring a glance at her through the rising steam. “We’ve established you want me to be happy -- but are you happy, Amelia?” 

[cybersentandroid-blog]

REED:

Movement in the window caught the Detective’s attention. He leaned forward in his seat a bit. Gavin cursed under his breath. “He’s probably getting suspicious,” He growled. Great, just perfect. That is exactly what they needed right now. Not.

Hopefully they couldn’t see them, but at this distance, he couldn’t tell. He glanced over at Connor. “Is there any way you can tell if he spotted us from here?”

Connor shook his head stiffly, narrowed eyes trained on the silent motel window. “No. If he noticed the car, there’s no way for me to be sure from this distance if our presence caused enough suspicion for him to bolt.”

Aside from the front door, the only other means of escaping the motel room would be to squeeze through the tiny bathroom window -- surely their target wasn’t spooked enough to attempt such a thing by the sight of a car alone, but walking around to check the rear of the building would likely tip the scales against them if they were spotted.

“Maybe if we tried a different angle...” Connor nodded toward the lobby, garishly lit with flashing neon signs. “We could rent the room beside our target’s -- it looks vacant.”

[dominicazhar-deactivated2018072]

[cybersentandroid-blog]

CHLOE:

(under the cut, cause again, it’s long)

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Troubled.

Connor turned the word slowly in his mind, a number of helpful definitions scrolling neatly across his HUD:

TROUBLED (adjective) beset by problems, showing distress or anxiety

It felt odd to be read so easily, Chloe’s uncanny ability to pinpoint the concern on his face as startling as it was curiously satisfying. It was hard to believe there had ever been a time when his facial expressions had been subtle enough to be missed, little more than the preprogrammed ghosts of empathy, worry, anger. The further he had strayed from the routine path CyberLife had laid out for him, the more expressive -- the more human -- he had become, both his speech and body language changing in ways he hadn’t even noticed until presented with reminders of the cold, stoic machine he had once been. To know that Chloe could so openly see the humanity in his face was enough to leave him faintly giddy, LED spinning yellowyellowyellow. 

How was he supposed to answer her question without terrifying the poor girl? Had she ever been subject of the Kamski Test herself, ever stared down the barrel of a gun whilst Elijah Kamski watched from the sidelines? How many Chloe’s had been killed in their creator’s search for empathy.

“You remind me of someone I met recently,” Connor answered at length --- not quite a lie, but a neat avoidance of the full answer. “An RT600. I owe her a lot.”

There was no way to know how much longer it would have taken for Connor to break his programming without the significant shift in his software such a traumatic experience had caused. Would he have accepted Markus’ offer without it? Would he be sat here, talking to Chloe, if he’d shot her sister in a coldblooded bid for answers? It was highly unlikely.

Changing the subject before Chloe could press further, Connor glanced around them at the quiet camp. A fire had been lit a few feet away, its warmth licking over Connor’s skin. “How long have you been --” the word deviant stuck in his throat, like a slur he couldn’t quite bring himself to spit out. “--with Jericho?” 

[novemberbloomers]

cop buddies!

[i-am-not-a-guardian-deactivated]

if you would be so kind as to reblog this if you feel insecure about your writing skills.

[thedarkeststarrms-deactivated20]

We’re Married { Mini-Stream Update // 4th of July

[cybersentandroid-blog]

LUCAN:

    Lucan noted the bright yellow shining on the side of Connor’s head, and he felt a bit of pride at that. Did he manage to sort of fluster an android? Maybe? Even if he didn’t, Lucan was pleased, and his smile only grew. But though he was happy and relieved, his LED was a constant state of yellow. He was never not processing everything around him, being cautious, planning a step ahead or two if he could manage. He already formulated a plan to escape the car in case Connor turned on him. He doubts it would happen though.

    “Station? You an officer?” Interesting. Lucan could see why he didn’t realize that before– Connor lacked a uniform of any police force he’s seen before. Maybe he was a special role? “Sure, so long as it’s out of the rain for a bit. And no, I don’t have anywhere to stay. Don’t exactly have much money to spare on a room.” 

    Lucan usually found himself sleeping on benches, tucked away in alleyways, under bus stops, things like that. Every once in a while he had enough to spend on a room for a few days. He’s just had a rough few weeks. Most of his money went into a new optics chip, and a new eye. Apparently his shade of blue was expensive.

Connor nodded, more than a little relieved to discover Lucan didn’t appear to recognize him. The RK800 been the focus of various news reports these last handful of months, from a story covering the successful rescue of Emma Phillips back in early August, to his march through the snow-covered streets of Detroit to stand with an army by Markus’ side. Despite the part he’d played in securing their freedom during the final stages of the revolution, many of his kind still looked at him with wary, distrustful eyes. He couldn’t blame them --- he hadn’t earned his nickname, ‘the deviant hunter,’ for nothing. 

“Yes. I’m a detective --- or at least I will be, once the legislation passes.” It had taken some convincing for Fowler to allow him back on the Force, the aftershocks of the uprising still rippling throughout the city. Hank had been the one to talk their cantankerous Captain into it, promising to keep a tighter leash on his partner in return for Connor’s badge. Fowler hadn’t looked particularly convinced -- Hank had been unable to control Connor when the android was under the supposed orders of CyberLife’s strict programming, never mind the freewill of his new-found deviancy -- but had begrudgingly agreed. Connor would have to work for the title of Detective, wait for the correct laws to be passed, but he was back ---- back to where he belonged.

“You can spend the night at the station, if you want,” Connor offered, glancing at the older model from the corner of his eyes. He didn’t like to think of Lucan wandering the streets so early in the morning, a prime target for anti-android protesters. “It’d be safer to wait for daylight hours before exploring the city, and I’d really rather not have the next time I meet you be at your own crime scene.”

[tetheredatlasarchive]

reply  speed   ≠   my  interest  in  our  thread  /  plot  /  or  you,  in  general.

[johnknowsgoodmusic]

Visit Original Link

[cybersentandroid-blog]

ELIO:

His touch is as light as a feather and yet it manages to set his whole skin on fire. Elio is unable to stop himself from shivering because damn this feels so good and can this please last forever? He wishes his own fingers could explore the curves of Connor’s stomach and chest. His clothing is still in the way and he has to restrain himself from getting rid of the thing himself.

He didn’t expect Connor to actually accept his offer, so when he uses his body to push both of them towards the couch a little squeak of surprise is made. It feels like his heart is hammering so fast in his chest that it will burst out of his ribcage just at the mere anticipation of what is about to come. He entirely blames that little curl on Connor’s mouth while he fakes ignorance.

“Depends on how far you want to take it.” Elio somehow manages to bring out while they end up on the couch, limbs tangled and all over the place. He is not entirely sure where he ends and Connor begins but who cares really? “I want to touch and see you if that’s okay?” His insecurity is seeping through again but could you really blame him? This was not something that happened every day.

For all of his carefully programmed grace and dexterity, their uncoordinated tumble to the couch is so human that Connor can’t help his short huff of breathless laughter, a burst of something bright and effervescent like the bubbles of a champagne flute. Somehow, he remains logical enough to twist their position as they fall, ensuring he is the one to hit the couch first --- as sleek and lightweight as his model may be, he is still 200 lbs of titanium steel alloy; the last thing he wants is to hurt Elio by crushing his full weight on top of him.

How far you want to take it. Connor hesitates, hands stilling where they press to the warm skin of Elio’s bare shoulders. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t given at least some thought to where the heated moment might take them --- it was ingrained into him at a base level to consider every possibility, after all, something he couldn’t escape even after breaking his programming --- but now that he was given the option, he found himself stuck, struggling to grasp a single outcome he might prefer. Spoiled for choice.

“I want --” and isn’t that a wonderful thing, to want, to allow desire and passion to tear at his heart. Elio’s tentative question provokes a shiver, sharp and bright like static. “Touch me; I want you to.”