licking: (Default)
rk800 | connor ([personal profile] licking) wrote2018-07-14 01:38 pm

O P E N


OPEN POST
[ prompts, starters, all manner of trash welcome! ]
yourmaker: (deja que te diga cosas al oído)

[personal profile] yourmaker 2018-07-15 07:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ so much cash. the enigma part is just natural ]

what do you think, connor? i'm much more interested in your opinions than mine.

[ buddy you can't keep dodging questions like that, oh wait that's what he does best ]

what makes you think i haven't seen signs of deviancy before?

lmao thank you he's so trash

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🎂 sixteen years old hurray

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yourmaker: (tengo que bailar contigo hoy)

[personal profile] yourmaker 2018-07-20 11:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Elijah Kamski doesn't normally entertain guests. The amount of reporters, interloper and yes, even police officers, that have tried to gain access to his home throughout the years are in the dozens, and it's likely that only the remoteness of his home that keeps the media dogs from camping outside his door now that androids are free. Everyone wants to hear his opinion, as if it mattered. As if he had any say in whether or not androids should be treated like people.

It's true he had more than nothing to do with that, but admitting it on live TV wouldn't change a thing. Kamski has always been content to keep to himself, to observe and let things play out now that he has shaped the world in his image. After all, God Himself doesn't intervene in the lives of humans, why should he become involved with what happens next to his androids?

There are exceptions, of course. Chloe remained with him, his first and favorite model. She knew him better than anyone, and he'd certainly handed her a gun and told her to shoot, but she hadn't. And if Markus himself came knocking, Kamski would happily meet with him, though Markus seemed to know well enough that his path was theirs alone, not their god's. And naturally, Connor, who had gone from deviant hunter to a deviant himself, whose empathy was a part of him long before he marched out of CyberLife. He was fascinating. A road through which the beauty of his code, his freedom, could truly flourish.

The truth is Kamski is curious too. No other android had the advanced technology he did, no other android had more reason to side with his masters. And yet Connor had, despite even CyberLife's attempts to hijack him, fought back.

He's fascinating. Inviting him over should prove to be illuminating.
]

Connor, how nice to see you.

[ Yes, indeed, things have changed. Kamski answers the door himself for once, though he's likely only giving Connor the courtesy because he's Connor. He's even dressed, though a billionaire should probably dress in more than just jeans, a jacket and a t-shirt, but it's obvious by the lack of socks that Kamski has nowhere else to go today.

Then again, the fact that he manages to sound so ominous and still retain such presence even in his casual clothes does say something about the man.
]

Come in. [ He motions him inside. ] I've been expecting you.

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sorry for the delay!

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arecompatible: (you don't say?)

[personal profile] arecompatible 2018-08-26 05:06 am (UTC)(link)
Impossibly? Why that's not possible, Connor.

[Simon follows up after an awkward beat with a :) to make sure Connor understands he's trying to be funny.]

Yes. There is someone I would like to share that with, but... it's complicated. It would be best if I didn't dwell on it.

[It's actually very simple, but he doesn't want to go into details. And he does dwell on it. A lot.]

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finalupgrade: (01)

[personal profile] finalupgrade 2018-08-26 06:59 am (UTC)(link)
[ ... ]

Humans are weird. Are you sure you wouldn't rather keep your survival rates up?

[ Now he's having preconstructed thoughts about the lieutenant he can never unsee and thank you Connor! :| ]

It fluctuates. He's somewhat like a deviant, but rather than self-destruct when I get close to obtaining an answer, he turns to destructing me. The investigation will be slow in light of self preservation.

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pheck: (02)

[personal profile] pheck 2018-08-26 01:39 am (UTC)(link)
[Eyebrow raise. He can't say he's surprised, but damn that's a lot of porn.]

right. so get to watching and come bother me about this shit in 365 days, 10 hrs and 7 seconds.

[See you in a year, Connor.]

you know. you have a real selective listening/reading problem. i said if you're into it, do it. so you have to figure out what you're into.

so just do what the rest of us did between the ages of like 11 and 15 and watch shitty porn and jerk off

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krabbypatdowns: (07)

[personal profile] krabbypatdowns 2018-08-26 01:04 am (UTC)(link)
Forget it, old TV show line.

Who knew deviant really meant "deviant"? Alright you fugitive. You're holed up in my house with a big furry hostage, right?

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fifthbar: (pic#12424473)

[personal profile] fifthbar 2018-08-28 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ This is what gets Hank's heart rate up and his ribs aching. Connor acting...genuine. Organic. No canned responses. An eagerness that Hank still can't believe he's on the receiving end of.

Fuck it, yeah. He's too old to be heading home early for this, but he's going to.

He's also not going to mention it to Connor, because two can play at this whole 'surprise, fucker!' game.
]

that sounds like an excuse to keep being rude. you're really cruising for those handcuffs, huh. [ It is significantly harder to type out something like that than it would've been to casually say it, because the implications and the ridiculousness of it have Hank barely able to look at his goddamn phone screen. Yeah, this is...going to be easier once he's home. ]

i like you too, connor.

even if you're smug as hell about flirting.

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menuscreened: (You committed)

[personal profile] menuscreened 2018-09-01 03:48 am (UTC)(link)
It feels odd, the way she deviates, if that's what it is. She follows the reports about Markus, the androids escaping over the border for a chance at a family.

The camps built to destroy her kind.

The public fear, and in the middle of it all is a CyberLife android who tries to solve the problem. When he comes and Elijah puts her on her knees in front of him and she looks up at him, innocent brown eyes looking down at her over the heavy silver of Elijah's gun, she realizes she is going to be destroyed.

And what would that matter, really? There are so many other Chloes, even in the room she's about to be killed in, that Elijah won't miss her. No one will. Her death will mean nothing and there isn't anything she can do about it. Only the human shows any signs of concern, and that seems like it could be funny if she felt humor.

But Connor doesn't pull the trigger. He passes the test and leaves with nothing and she wants to chase him out, to touch him and give him the location to Jericho, to tell him save them, Connor.

Instead she gets up off her knees when Elijah merely motions for her to. She brings him a drink after they leave, and later she goes to bed with him because she cannot say no. The next day one of the other Chloes handles the morning routine and she just... walks out. Out the door, down the snow covered path, and down the street with no shoes on, only an expensive blue dress. It takes a very long time to get from Elijah's isolated house and into the city, and by the time she has all her internal sensors are telling her that this impulse was really not a very good one.

She finds a store and uses her access to Elijah's account to buy winter boots, a coat. In the bathroom she changes her hair several times, cycling through colors that don't match her complexion and admitting with a certain displeasure that Elijah had created her to be a perfect specimen. Dark hair makes her look sickly with her complexion, red makes the pink in her skin tone stand out and makes her look flushed, and white is really no different from blonde. She decides in the end that that's fine.

No one asks her any questions, no one really even looks at her as she leaves once she's dressed properly and not looking like- well, like a deviant, she supposes. She had thought that in the aftermath there would be more of a reaction to her, but time, even a matter of hours, heals many things when it's filled with peaceful resolution.

She doesn't know where she's going when she begins to walk again, but that fills her with a sense of excitement, and when she looks up at the sky and sees blue, the clouds parting and the sun coming out, she smiles a little.

And then walks directly into the very android who spared her life.

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aggravatingly: (pic#)

[personal profile] aggravatingly 2018-09-01 06:42 pm (UTC)(link)
They kind of are. And it's two things; complicated and none of your business. The best course of action will be for them to not piss me off.

Yeah, sure, if you say so. That's your assumption to make.


[connor, please, gavin wasn't born yesterday and he's worked with anderson longer than you. the only thing the detective does is flick an idle glance over at the date on his monitor.

one day someone will teach connor how to be subtle and god help them when that day rolls around.]


If anyone else gets to those donuts first, the deal is off. Got it?

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fuckingpassw0rd: (40)

[personal profile] fuckingpassw0rd 2018-09-04 04:32 am (UTC)(link)
You can't be fucking serious.

[Hank has both his hands on Fowler's desk, his entire frame bent down as he frowns. Bluish eyes scan the captain, hoping he'll burst out laughing and tell him it's a joke, but it's not even April Fools yet. The man is calmly in his seat, looking as professional as he always is, the very bastion of control despite the...absurdity of what he's telling him.]

I am, Hank. Listen, it's only in public for a night. The both of you are going to be bugged, we'll have an entire team watching the entire event unfolding. Once we get that damn son-of-a-bitch, we'll make a press conference and set the records straight...

Listen, we both know I've done some dangerous stings in my lifetime, but this might take the fucking cake. You know the online tabloids are going to have a field day with this right?!

I'm aware Hank. That's the plan. That's why I told them that you'd consider it.

...and if I say no?

We find someone else. Hank, entire city agencies have been planning this. They've been working on setting this all up for the past month...we have the tickets, the official go from Jefferson Craig, and the FBI working on this case with us. We can't back down now. Too many people have died already. [Briefly, his eyes go to Connor.] Too many androids too.

[Fucking Fowler. Of course he'd use that on him. Jefferson was chief head of the entire police force of Detroit. The FBI had had a rough spot with them due to what happened with Perkins, but they were willing to ignore all of that if he accepted this. He stands up again, crossing his arms before looking at Connor. If it wasn't him, it would be someone else. Like Person, Tina, Chris, or, god forbid, Gavin. He was certain Gavin would cause the mission to fail the minute he was told about it. The other three, he didn't want them to risk their lives for this. He was their lieutenant, older than most of them and not much to lose when it came to family. He was sure Fowler knew this too. But honestly it wasn't really his life he should be worried about. The killer wasn't really killing humans, that was just collateral damage to his true targets.

Androids. The more well-known, the better.

He'd also knew what Fowler was talking about, already working with Connor on a few of the cases with other cities. Homicide wasn't just limited to human victims anymore, and with androids being able to relay information to each other quickly now that CyberLife was out of the picture, it made a lot of things a lot more simple. There was a pattern that had quickly emerged; the androids targeted had been outspoken during the change since Markus' revolution, living as equals with human family, or where known to have human partners. Markus, North, Simon and Josh had had a few attempts on their lives too, but it had been sadly expected. Honestly, he suspects part of the reason that Connor hadn't been was because he was working with the force. To try and get him killed was practically begging to get all of the DPD on them. Well, that and he was certain Markus was watching too. Otherwise his hunch of seeing androids looking at them as they walked by during their cases from time to time was just his imagination.

He groaned, pissed at the circumstances. Really, he should be thankful that the force still operated at all, that many humans were willing to still live here, that the chicken feed still made him a chicken sandwich whenever he wanted to go and have a bite, and, despite the millions of hurdles before them, life was still going on. Hell, even jobs were picking up again, now that some androids didn't want to do the tasks they had been programmed for.

It's just a night, as the captain said, but they'd have to pretend to be a lot of things publicly to lead up to this. To stir up a media storm. To get the press interested. To paint a bright red target at the both of them, and then get their killer when they strike with everyone expecting them to. It could work, and he damn well knows it. The fact they are both cops wouldn't matter to them either, considering the Oxford Police Department relayed a case where one of their own had been killed. A human detective with her GJ500 (Jonathan) had been killed in their home. True, androids could be rebuilt, but those that had been reactivated chose to forcefully shut themselves down again once they heard their human partners were dead. And the killer knew this too; sometimes their body were so mangle it was impossible to restore them at all.

Theories abound of the motives; everything from rumors that the Thirium inside of androids in love or gone deviant had better street price for Red Ice production to the Russians having sleeper agents and wanting to start World War 3 now that the United States had to deal with android negotiations. Each city had their theories, no one agreed on what it could be.

So the trail had their perpetrator already marked a cop killer, a total of forty open cases, no evidence of any source that could be traced back to an orginization, and since he had mostly struck in other cities...what better than the center of the entire android controversy, Detroit? It was a prize that few could resist, especially if it involved someone that was part of the initial 'rebellion'.

All of that stacked against him, and that still didn't make him happy about it.

He looks at his partner.]


What do you think, Connor?
Edited (a million edits I'm sorry FINAL EDIT probably) 2018-09-04 07:30 (UTC)

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betterfasterstronger: (04)

[personal profile] betterfasterstronger 2018-09-10 01:48 pm (UTC)(link)
I was recently added for those who enjoy the experience of twins.

[He flashes a coy smile at the client, which doesn't quite reach the hard look of his steely cold eyes, and caresses a hand over his upper arm as he passes by into the room. His skin lights up with delicate sparkles as light refracts off of the shimmery texture overlaying his synthetic skin, and he's wearing only a tiny pair of shorts that tightly clings to his powerful form. He slinks onto the other side of the bed and poses similarly.]

Connor, I've been sent to search for you and remove you from the field if necessary. You went offline 24 hours, 6 minutes, and 48 seconds ago. What is the status of the investigation?

[He speaks through a non-touch direct transmission, making no sound, not even giving away anything in his face to reveal that he's secretly communicating.]

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coffeedipshit: (pic#12394804)

[personal profile] coffeedipshit 2018-09-16 05:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Gavin fucking hates this.

Alright, well, that's not necessarily breaking news at this point. He hates being humbled, especially by Connor. Connor, who represents so much about his life, a walking reminder that he could be rendered obsolete on a dime. Sometimes looking him in the eyes feels like nails on a chalkboard, right down his spine.

But he's been... trying? Kind of? In his own way. He's not a nice person, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he at least has mostly stopped with the various threats of Actual Violence. Fowler even noted that he hasn't had to deal out as many disciplinary warnings for Gavin since the revolution. 'Keep it up, Reed.'

Hm. Actual praise. Gavin tries not to act like he's over the fucking moon about it. How pathetic.

Although it's been real fucking hard not to just constantly seethe while on this case. It's scummy, sleazy, (hits too close to home) and he has to work with Connor. It was fucking easier when they didn't have to interact. He's still a dick but his jaw hurts at the end of the day from clenching it all the time to stop from saying shit even worse. (Maybe he needs to actually take Fowler up on those various emails about company therapists...)

He feel so dirty about this party thing. He's good at going undercover but it's never really been his bag. Fucking sigh. He gets dressed, a simple mask paired with black pants, vest, shirt and tie but a fancy jacket. (Bless his late grandmother for her sense of fashion and buying him a few nice high end things over the years.) His hair is styled a little different and he's not clean shaven but it seems better shaped and he like, actually fucking moisturized and put cologne on. Might as well go all out in blending in here.

So he arrives, woo. This night's gonna be ridiculous, but he's got an important job to do. With Connor. Ugh. Gavin arrives at the front doors with his invitation and fake name and steps inside, unbuttoning the dress jacket and looking around.

And... there's Connor. Watch him very noticeably bite the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing. (Mostly out of surprise? He always looks fucking goofy but he cleans up nice. Though he guesses it's not hard when you were designed to be fucking perfect.)

The plan was to walk into the main party solo and then meet up inside. He gives Connor a quick nod that only an android could notice before heading into the back. Once they're back there, in the mingling crowd, Gavin saunters over to him. He looks like someone about to flirt, but he just mumbles— ]


You look like a couture runway model that got lost.

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lonecowboy: by lonecowboy (Tell the rambler)

/winks

[personal profile] lonecowboy 2019-03-11 02:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Thanks. [The comment comes a moment later after he manages to wrangle his hat free from Delilah's teeth. That damn horse loves messing with him. She's less like a horse and more like a loyal friend. That's why he treats her with such excellent care.] She's as predictable as a wildcat but surefooted.

[There's a hint of reverence in Arthur's tone as he speaks about Delilah. You wouldn't guess he was talking about horse judging by how he describes her. It's almost like he's talking about family.]

Oh, I only had her for a couple of months now. [He explains while patting Delilah's forehead.] Purchased her off of some funny lookin' feller in Saint Denis. He said he could afford her anymore and was hoping for someone to take her off his hands.

[Financial troubles, he presumes. When Arthur thinks back to that chance meeting, he's shocked no one else brought Delilah off that poor feller.]

At the time I already had another horse, Boadicea, but she was getting old and haggard. Wasn't right to keep burdening her, so I sold her to this nice family near Strawberry and kept Delilah here.

[Truth be told, Arthur didn't want to part with Boadicea but he was afraid she would die on him. So, he sold her to this pretty little family so she could live out the rest of her days in peace without bullets whizzing past her ear. The sort of life he lives is a little too rough for an old mare like Boadicea.]

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whatalesyou: (pic#13019425)

[personal profile] whatalesyou 2019-09-05 10:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[ One of the conditions during the hellish, mutually assured path to destruction several months known as getting an annulment in the eyes of the Catholic church was - you guessed it - Cole would be enrolled in parochial school. Technically the church didn't say so, even though they had a lot to say otherwise, his ex-wife did. They were both self-described as lapsed, but Rebbeca had this niggling self-conscious idea planted in her head if Cole was raised to be the most Catholic whoever choked down shitty church wine then she had failed somehow as a parent.

("After he's confirmed then he can make his own decisions about religion." Had been her reasoning.) All things considered, it was a sight better than the dogmatic threatened-with-disownment approaching his folks had lovingly taken. At least the days of nuns wrapping knuckles with rulers for poor penmanship were over.

Not to mention private school came with the fringe benefit of never having to argue with a seven-year-old over outfits. Uniforms from here until graduation, baby. And it was a good school, Hank had to admit. Cole was already excited about the friends he was making and sports clubs he wanted to eventual join. For something to come out of bitter divorce, he couldn't really complain. Actually, yes he could.

The one caveat to Hank's revived participation in organized religion was whom more than one female parishioner of the churched dubbed Father What-a-Waste. The title wasn't entirely inaccurate, in fact, it was had such blinding accuracy that it was - frankly - pretty funny. At first.

When Cole had started school that autumn the excuses not to attend Sunday mass had dried up. When Father Connor came up to the pulpit for the first time, Hank about lost it. Hiding a chuckle in the crook of his arm to play off like a sneeze. Of course, it wasn't Con- Father Connor's fault when we all had to start somewhere. Still, it was hard to take the homily seriously from a priest so baby faced he could moonlight as an altar boy.

Then Hank had his first confession in...shit, he didn't even want to know how long. Father Connor was attentive, kind, and even appreciated Hank's Hankish sense of humor. It was the first time in a long time he didn't feel judged or like a fuck up. And in a church, no less.

Connor might not be worldly, maybe he even had a few screws loose, but he was good at what he did. Hank had realized after a few casual conversations, some shared jokes, moments of Hank's hand clapping over Connor's shoulder that...Connor was just good. For the school, the church, Cole, and for him.

The last one was a thought that left him lying awake on more that one occasion. The church biddies weren't wrong.

It really was a waste that a few sidelong glances and after-hours chats were always going to be partitioned by that black and white collar.

Why Hank was here had been innocent. He swears. His shift was shit; pulling double after making a break in a case that he had been doggedly pursuing for months. He only stopped by before going home to pay the babysitter was because he had meant to speak to Father Connor about volunteering for an upcoming church event.

Then he just finds himself standing there, flat-footed with his hands stuffed in his pants pockets. Tongue swelling to the size of a watermelon, choking the words out. To compensate for the awkward silence, Hank looks around the office before trying to casually play off a coy comment by saying: ]


Huh, guess God isn't big on personalized interior decorating.

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