#myfuckingusername

[c0nn0rb0t]

⚠ - with some of that human connor, You know i had to send it

Send me ⚠ to find my muse at the end of a trail of blood.

[Ask an ye shall receive an Injured human boy]

The two of them were hot on the heels of a deviant…damn Machine had murdered it’s human not but a few hours prior when the call came in about a disturbance. Connor trailing right behind the crazed machine, had instructed Hank to fall back…mostly because he didn’t want to go into debt when his Android partner got busted up in the scuffle. 

What Connor didn’t expect was for the damned thing to pull a knife on him, swinging it wildly at him. He managed to move away from the first couple of stabs…but the final one hit him square in the shoulder. He yelled and stepped back as he recoiled, the Android taking another stab at him, hitting his leg this time. 

He wasn’t about to give up as he attempted to give chase once more when it bolted…but he didn’t make it far, leaning against a nearby wall before he slid down into a sitting position. He had no idea how much blood he had lost…but he noticed he was leaving a trail of it…

[replicantdeviancy]

@myfuckingusername continued from ▲.

▌ ▲▐ ─────                    Connor was not ignorant to the stare the Lieutenant had leveled with him several moments before. While he appeared to be concentrating on the work before him at his terminal, the android’s eyes occasionally flicked to his left, to the cerulean gaze aimed his way. Or more pointedly at the accessory he’d chosen to sport. It was then no surprise when Hank spoke up.

                   The smirk that spread over his lips was reflexive and he only barely fought to suppress it as he surprised the little laugh that wished to accompany it. He managed to quell his amusement, allowing only a small snort in his attempt at composure. He turned his head in Hank’s direction, acknowledging his partner rather casually when he otherwise embodied the perfect picture of rigid poise. Posture perfect in his chair, one hand resting on the desk while the other sat linked against the terminal, the plastic frame of his hand exposed. But even as he looked at the other with innocent perplexity there was amusement in his eyes. The cheeky shit.

                   “Oh, these?” he gestured towards the glasses which sat perched on his nose with his free hand. “I don’t actually need them necessarily. It’s for aesthetic purposes.” Connor explained as though it were the most normal, unambiguous thing in the whole world; him wearing glasses. “I wanted to get them. I thought they looked good.” What weird android he was becoming. First he was learning how to smile and now he was developing a sense of style. What was next?

[c0nr800]

@myfuckingusername

-Connor is.. Scared. He’s very scared. Nobody knows, and he dares never to admit it, but recently he experienced something odd. He believes it was deviation. That’s the scary part. He’s working to bring them in and dispose of them. How can he do this when he too is a deviant?.. That’s not his biggest concern though. The real thing ringing in his mind is what Hank may think.-

-Connor has an idea of what he might think. Repulsed. Disturbed. Unsettled. Basically, he’s afraid of being rejected, so.. He fakes it. He plays the part of ‘simple android’ and fights all and any emotions coming through. It’s difficult and tiring, simply guessing what an actual android would do, seeing as he’s lost the programming and is going off of what he thinks an android would do.-

-It’s not just the faking that’s tiring him out, though. It’s the listening. It’s having the actual knowledge of things now. One of these things being his affection towards the lieutenant. If he cares for anything, it’s gotta be him. And knowing that.. He, and everyone else, sees him as just a plastic servant to get the job done.. Each order feels like a knife. Everything is exhausting and scary, knowing his life is so insignificant to them, and it’s reached a point in which Connor can’t do it anymore, despite telling himself otherwise.-

-This showed over the course of the passed week. However, tonight, it’s showing in it’s full glory, Connor thinking far too much during the final nightly hours at the station. His thoughts attacked him to a breaking point, and his emotions are taking him over. He had to break the silence.-

“A-.. Are we in ne-..need of anything else before hitting the road?”

[deviatingsoftware-a]

@myfuckingusername​

“Your second name is dawn?” Why didn’t he get more names.

[neoteric-ameliorate-a]

► @myfuckingusername​​ cont.

     He hadn’t planned on meeting Hank, it was just something that just happened now, meeting Police Officers and speaking with them, after the Revolution things needed to be ironed out, an order brought back to the people. Markus had no issue with this, he knew he had uprooted a lot of things during the few months the Revolution took place, there had been a time where he hadn’t thought a peaceful outcome would’ve appeared, when he had met Perkins in front of an Android Recycling center, it had made him doubt that the people would come around to the freedom of Androids. But Perkins had been an extremist and he knew, from living with Carl and the small bits of information he shared with Connor. That not all humans were like Perkins. 

       But thinking about all of this was taking him out of there here and now, where Hank was standing before him. A soft chuckle vibrates out of him in response to hearing the aged Detectives comment.

      “That's not what I meant, while I do appreciate you helping Connor in finding Jericho, I meant more . . . you showed him what it meant to exist, to be a deviant. Human, almost.” Since he did know that they were far from being considered equal with humans. “When he came to Jericho, I could see how he was questioning things inside of his mind, his mission, his life, himself. I think you did a good job with helping him become his own person”

[connorlikesdogsposts]

@myfuckingusername​ (X)

Slowly his led went from the angry red to a more mellow yellow. After a while, he started to shift and move, albeit very minuscule movements. A twitch of his fingers, a twitch of his eyelids. His led still blinking yellow.

Even later Connor let out a sound. A barely audible groan. His led fluttered to yellow to blue then back to yellow. He shifted slightly and let out a moan. Then his eyes were open.  His led swirled yellow once more before turning blue.

He looked around, confusion spreading across his features.He said nothing.

[whiskeyedlullaby]

@myfuckingusername bc twin verse

francis anderson had never been one for hesitation and invading his brother’s precinct? not where he was going to start. it had been far too long since frank had made an effort to actually see his hank. that changed today. “hey, anderson! you look like shit.” a smirk solidly in place, arms crossed, hair pulled back, he dropped himself onto an open spot on his brother’s desk.

[replicantdeviancy]

@myfuckingusername Continued from ▲.

▌ ▲▐ ─────                    Connor had been patient in waiting for Hank’s answer, remaining far longer than his programming dictated was acceptable by common human social standards. But then, Hank wasn’t one for common standards of any kind and Connor, being what he was, had the ability to wait indefinitely. Soon enough it paid off. Hank’s reply brought a softness to the android’s features as a feeling of sympathy came over him. The android did not know what it was to feel tired. He did not need for rest, but Hank required it and Connor suspected that his peace had been robbed from him rather than neglected.

                   By old memories, no doubt. The ghosts of the past haunted at these late hours and for the Lieutenant there was little else that could numb the ache they brought than the scent of smooth, hard liquor and the buzz that it’s effects would gloss over his tired brain.

                   Yet tonight even that seemed not to have worked. So the man sat slumped over the kitchen table littered with the remains of what comforts he sought that eve; old take away boxes, booze, and a familiar picture laying face down on the round oak surface.

                   Slowly, Connor approached. Bare feet padded over cold linoleum to stand beside the table. A chair was pulled out, one beside Hank, and the android eased his weight into it to sit silently in his friend’s presence. He watched Hank a long moment, warm eyes simply observing. He was searching for something, perhaps a clue of what to do next. Guidance - Hank was always the one he sought when he had need of any. But sleep deprived and no doubt anxious, he would be of little use. Connor would have to decide for himself.

                   A hand reached out, rested upon the thick swell of fat-cushioned muscle of Hank’s upper arm. Connor smiled for him. It was subdued, appearing worn itself, but kind. “If I laid down beside you...would that help you sleep?”