#powertook

[cybervigilant]

MR: What? What is this? What are you doing to me? Tyrell: It’s a hug. I’m hugging you. MR:  Tyrell: MR: Disgusting. --- Keep doing it.

[cybervigilant]

@powertook (cont)

    “ Then stop staring, It’s distracting. “

“Woah. Woah. Woah. Are you saying I’m asking for it? You just ASSUME someone staring at you means they want to have sex with you? That sir, is what the kids like to call --- PROBLEMATIC.” Did MR actually think that’s what Tyrell had meant? Of course not but he loved twisting words to have a bit of fun. 

[soulstied-a]

↳  ALLEN @powertook​ " Allen, how are you feeling ? "

   Feel. How was he feeling. 

   There was something about being asked that question that caused an array of thoughts inside his head. Feeling was something that Androids weren’t supposed to associate with themselves, something they weren’t supposed to have. John would frequently forget that and asked the same thing, a hey Allen how you doin’ in the morning when he learned he had the Android that day. Allen would never reply to the inquiry, just greet the Detective back with a pleasant smile and inform him he was his Android that day. No matter how many times John corrected him to use the term partner. 

   Now John was dead and a completely different person was asking him how he felt. He’d been told that he was... free. That some Android named Markus personally designed by their creator Elijah Kamski had started a peaceful revolution and declared freedom for Androids. Allen had spent all of that locked in the closet at the precinct, missed the freedom so strongly fought for and now--now he was broken out by this man. Fixed apparently and asked how he felt. 

   Felt. 

   It was still a word he couldn’t wrap his head around. He remembered everything, there wasn’t a single hole in his memory files. Some of the vision was corrupt, given his body was slowly shutting down but the audio files were all still there. The night that John died was completely intact and he had spent several hours re-watching it, over and over, while the man that ‘saved him’ did whatever he was doing on the computer that Allen was connected to. He ran through his head what happened that night, what he could have done differently, if he could have saved John. Hours of that. Hours. Unmoving. Even when the man got up and left. 

   Tyrell. His name was Tyrell, Allen knew that, he introduced himself even if the PC200 hadn’t replied. He did remember the mans name. 

   Allen turned his head a bit toward them, looking at the clothes that were left beside him. His uniform was gone, it had been left on his body when he was placed in the closet, stained with Thirium and a huge rip in the back from where he was attacked. He wasn’t entirely naked, there was a pair of shorts on that he didn’t understand the purpose of, the PC200 didn’t have anything to cover up. 

   ❝ I don’t know. ❞   He finally replies, hand reaching out to rest on top of the clothing.   ❝ Do you want me to put these on? ❞

[tapewormking]

what are you suggesting?

@powertook

“It will be a simple enough thing,” Farouk says, vaguely, lounging in Tyrell’s arms. He is distantly aware that he is talking too freely, jeopardizing his plans, but it’s hard to care, when Tyrell’s powers have him in their sway, the warm, comfortably alien pulse of affection in Farouk’s chest. Tyrell is the perfect drug, better than opium, better than vapor. “Our Elliot’s mind is already fractured . . . all that is required is to make another split. I do not need all of him. Just enough. Just enough to replace what I’ve lost . . .” The image of David’s face intrudes on his comfortable haze, and he turns his face to hide it against Tyrell’s chest. “One Elliot for each of us . . . une affaire équitable, non?” he murmurs, absently. 

[cybervigilant]

@powertook​ said: Elliot? Are you awake? I heard you woke up but when I got away you were sleeping again and I didn't want to wake you.

Elliot had been in and out of sleep ever since he’d initially woken up. He’d spoken with Darlene a bit. Slept. Woken up and just sat in silence with her as they watched news footage about Whiterose’s death. It all seemed so strange and surreal yet if he ever started to wonder if he was stuck again, she’d hold his hand and make everything right. She was exhausted, however, and hungry and boy did she get cranky when she was both tired and in need of food. Elliot sent her to take a break and get something to eat at the cafeteria. Eyes focused on the ceiling, finding patterns in the tiles until a familiar voice rocked him from his daze. Elliot looked confused and in brief panic when he found Tyrell standing in the doorway of his hospital room. The man who’d gone for a walk. Who Elliot had believed died. Who he’d told he didn’t give a fuck about him. His heart sunk and he rose his hands to rub at his eyes carefully, without tugging out the leads in his arm. He wasn’t here. Tyrell Wellick is dead. When he looked back over, the man was still there. Jawline a bit scruffy and he looked tired but pleased to see him. He didn’t look the same as when Elliot had last seen him in the woods.

“I -- I thought you were, I thought you were dead.”

[cybervigilant]

powertook replied to your post: None of you are valid. Elliot only needs Darlene.

:c :c

you heard me. you left him too. look at elliot he has abandonment issues.

[cybervigilant]

' hey... elliot. they're going to find me eventually and this will go through... you told me not to say it once but... well... you're not here to stop me now. i love you. i would have liked to see this through to the end with you, but fate had other plans... you're all i have left,you and my son. if you make it out of this, everything goes to you. there's so much more i want to say but it's getting hard to talk... i love you. farväl elliot '

Elliot nearly shoved his phone into Tyrell’s chest, only deciding at the last moment not to. It might end up aggravating the man’s stitches. It had taken him a few days to get around to checking his voicemail. He’d worked himself up on the way over to confront Tyrell over this.

“What the hell is this?” 𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚖 𝙸 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚍? 𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚖 𝙸 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚍? 𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚖 𝙸 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚍? He felt like screaming or crying, or beating his fists against a wall. Anything to stop the emotions he was feeling. Elliot was shaking, dropping his phone at some point before he started pacing in front of Tyrell. So much had transpired in the woods. Very little hit him until he’d gotten home. Even more when Tyrell had shown up alive.  Palm slid over the side of his head as he turned his back to the other man for a moment. 

“You thought you were gonna die. You walked off. You GAVE UP.”

[cybervigilant]

@powertook -- "I uh -- don't really know how to dance like that."

Tyrell takes a second to reposition his hand just a bit lower on Elliots back, very carefully pulling him in, pulling him flush to his chest while his other hand seeks out Elliots own.  The other mans smaller size made it actually rather easy to settle into a traditional waltz positioning, putting himself into the leading role with confidence.

     “ Here.  I’ll teach you. “

     Though he doesn’t really want to, he looses his grip just a bit and takes a small step back so that Elliot could look down between them, so he could learn.

     “ Just follow my footsteps.  Four constant steps, and a few variables when you feel like a flourish.  Once we get your constants settled I’ll teach you a spin. “

Elliot’s breath catches a bit in his throat when he thought Tyrell was just going to pull him into a dance without any instruction. Just about every socially anxious person’s nightmare. Dancing and looking like a fool not know what the hell he or she was supposed to do.

Yet, the I’ll teach you came as a few words that washed over him with relief. 

He takes the initiative to look down right away, already unsure of what he was supposed to be doing with his feet and the extra space made it easy to watch and attempt to mirror Tyrell’s steps. Naturally, he started them off a bit backwards and stepped on the man’s feet at least once. Elliot muttered an apology and restarted when Wellick reached a step he could follow and get into the motions.

“Like this?”