#generic-connor

It all happened fast. Too fast. First, there were only reports of a few hundred. Now, they were in the hundreds of thousands. The one thing that people always joked about being prepared for but never were. Something people joked would happen but never thought actually would.

Living corpses. The collapse of society itself because of an undead hoarde.

It was exactly like the books and movies and shows. Shambling corpses that only hungered for one thing, and that was the flesh of the living. The police were some of the first to become infected as they were often the first responders. Then, the emergency responders such as paramedics. Hospitals became ground zero for new infections to take place until the remaining doctors and nurses fled taking whatever they could with them and retreating to shelter with other remaining survivors. Some say that they were trying to find a cure for the outbreak.

For a good while, Connor and Rachel were surviving quite well. So long as they had each other, everything was okay. Everything was doable. In a world where everything had fallen apart, he was her only connection to normalcy. Her only anchor to her own mental stability.

All of that changed the day he was infected.

It felt like her entire world had fallen apart. Like her heart was ripped out of her chest. Connor was supposed to be her partner. He was supposed to be what kept her alive and kept her sane. They were supposed to emerge from this Hell on Earth hand-in-hand victorious. But when she saw him shambling about, jaw clacking with a distant look in his eyes, Rachel knew that all was lost.

She should’ve shot him. She should’ve killed him right then and there. She should’ve protected herself and put him out of his misery so he could rest.

But when he tilted his head at her in such a curious and innocent way…her resolve died in her throat. She couldn’t kill him. Not when he looked at her like that. The dead weren’t supposed to feel. They weren’t supposed to emote. They were mindless shamblers, nothing more. They walked in search of the living flesh to devour. There were no thoughts. No people inside them.

But Connor was still there. He was still Connor, even as a corpse. He recognized her. And when he ambled towards her, he wasn’t looking to devour her flesh. He just wanted her. Someone familiar. Someone close.

Someone…someone to anchor him.

And so, the tables had turned. Now, Rachel was the one keeping Connor tethered to himself. She was his partner. His only light in this darkness. The other corpses might be mindless devourers, but not her Connor. Connor was still hers and she would be damned if she let this broken world take him from her, too.

No. She would sooner kill herself than let that happen.

So, here she stayed. She went back to the DPD and kept Connor in one of the holding cells that was no longer in use. The building had long since been abandoned since the epidemic broke out, so now it was her stronghold. Where she could keep Connor and keep him protected.

Even behind the glass, she couldn’t help but smile at him. Despite everything, he was still there. Still her friend. Still her partner.

@wasscared​

Oh. 

(What does he not love?). But, here is an unexhaustive set:

His honesty. Not just with facts, but with wants and feelings. It’s-... more than the honesty he loves, it’s the clarity of communication? The honesty that bleeds to trust because he knows Connor is not going to assume without asking, or take someone else’s word about him ever, or lie to him about something important (ever, ever), or betray his trust. 

That lock of hair. His brown eyes. The way Connor kisses him. 

His boundaries. His defense of himself. His lines. Connor will say, ‘No’. Connor will not let someone cost him everything, and Markus has so much respect for someone who has come from a life where he wasn’t ‘aloud’ boundaries (androids weren’t, as a rule, before they demanded them) and has said, ‘These are mine.’

The sound he makes, or loses, when Markus kisses his neck.

His unapologetic love for being who he is - a detective. Connor once asked if Markus would ever ask him to stop his work, and the answer was ‘no’ but also-... the answer was, Connor would keep being who he was regardless even if Markus would have (which he never! would! and Connor didn’t say those word but he didn’t have to). But the surge of attraction he felt toward someone who is unapologetic about his work and that he will do it, and that it is important, was immense. 

The way his hands drift beneath his shirt, against his back, or on his side, or near his collarbone, warm, warm while they are sleeping. 

His kindness. Connor doesn’t cost those who are hurting more than what has already been taken. Markus has noticed and Markus loves him.  

His humor. His dry, teasing, witty humor that he sometimes cracks without even breaking a smile but Markus knows. His ‘I’m already in a relationship, Mr. Manfred, and as charming as you are he wouldn’t understand’ or his ‘I’ll put that on your headstone’. Connor being himself around Markus makes him in love.

Did I say the way he kisses him? Because the way he kisses him.

AND. Oh my and when Connor cradles his face. This man just... Connor touched his face and Markus loves him for knowing how much that means to him to do it.

OOC Hot takes

[There come a few to mind but I’m no drama starter so I keep them to myself, mun wise.

A guardian. That was her role. It was in her blood. It was in her very nature, despite what her father led her to believe when she was young. She knew better than to believe his lies. The monster that labelled her as a stain was a fool, in the end. A fool who had no respect for himself as a naga. Thought himself above the creatures for whom their wisdom and knowledge was meant to serve and meant to be given to.

And here she slithered, triumphant and powerful and mighty. A leader of her people. Her humans revered her and looked to her with affection, adoration, and awe. She was their way of life, as much as they were hers. Their hearts beat in tandem with hers, inextricably interwoven like the entangled roots of the rainforest trees.

Water was the element of the naga. Many protected pure springs and waterways and served as guardians of nature. It was the one thing they punished humans for universally. For their callousness to nature itself and especially to water.

So, naturally, her home was semi-aquatic, filled with networks of underground rivers that led around the jungle and out to the sea, with springs and caves to match. Her people lived by her rivers. They were a source of food for them. They were clean and pure. Their guardian made certain that that was so.

But as of late, something had begun to threaten the way of life for her people. Several of her humans have reported their own going missing. And, as the guardian of her village, Rachel was enraged.

Not at them. She would never dare show her humans her rage. Her rage was reserved for being seen by those that threaten them. Monsters and vile humans who poison the Earth.

No, her ire was directed at whichever monster was responsible for their disappearances and has somehow managed to escape from under her nose.

This would not do.

So, vigilantly, the snake goddess slithered out from her home to investigate the waterways outside of her village. It was always after leaving to wash their clothes or fish that her people reported disappearances. She advised her chief to enforce a curfew and to prohibit the people of the village from going to these waterways until Rachel had snuffed out their assailant as well as encouraging them to simply use her cenote for their water. A small ask for the people who devoted themselves completely and wholly to her.

How dare you force me to pick a favourite trope, Mars? That’s like asking me to pick between my children.

There’s so many!!!!!

I enjoy me some hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, found family, enjoy me some angst, I like my monsters, just…too many to pick!!

As for my least favourite trope, I can pick one.

Enemies to lovers is kind of one I’m really picky about. It has to be done in a specific way for me to enjoy it.

But the one thing I have realized this year that I cannot stand is the trope of someone being kidnapped or held against their will or there being an otherwise really unhealthy power dynamic and just…treating that like a normal thing. Like it’s either justified or a cute quirk.

I’ve talked about this in a different ask, but I do not enjoy Stockholm Syndrome-esque stories that are played straight. If it’s not written through the lens of a horror genre, I cannot stand it.

Of course Hank would insist that Rachel take a vacation for herself. She only ever took time off for the holidays to spend with Bianca, but other than that, she never took time off ever. And if Hank was telling her that she should, maybe she should listen.

So, she decided to take a trip to the one place she never really wanted to go for the location itself but thought it might be nice to visit at least once. Palm Beach Florida. After all, she had enough disposable income to be able to afford a trip like that for herself. So, not only did she get a nice hotel to retreat to whenever she liked, but she also rented a boat for her to use. All she needed to do was prove she had her boating license and the coursework she did when she took boating classes and she was able to rent one.

So, here she was at sunset. Staring out onto the Atlantic ocean. Admittedly, it was beautiful. There was a certain charm to the tropical vibe of the Atlantic. The east coast had such a different vibe than the west, and admittedly she missed the west coast and would prefer to be there. But she didn’t want to go too far from Michigan, so here she was.

Alone at sea with only herself. And it was nice. It was quiet. And it was peaceful.

Once the revolution was over, new opportunities presented themselves. Very strange opportunities. Androids grew more and more like humans by the day, and with deviancy came intrigue. Humans had largely eradicated physical ailments thanks to the advancements in science and technology. However, mental ailments were not quite so easy and didn’t see as much attention in the technological field.

And even more intriguing, deviant androids were beginning to exhibit the same mental ailments humans did. Something which was fascinating on every level. Human mentality was dictated entirely by brain chemistry, different parts of the brain producing neurotransmitters that all perform and regulate different things in a brain to make it work properly. And a chemical imbalance caused by a variety of different things, from the environmental to the genetic, is what results in mental illnesses.

So what is it in androids? What causes them to exhibit the same mental illnesses found in humans without said brain chemistry to cause them? It was a mystery that Howard Smith was determined to unravel. Following the revolution, he intended to answer this question. And perhaps with the answers he would get, he could help many others, humans and androids alike.

And perhaps his beloved Rachel would see that he could make her happy. That she could be happy. That she could be cured of the ailments that made her so miserable and unhappy.

But first thing’s first, he needed an android. And an android he did find and experiments on him proved to yield valuable information. The MC500 model named Andrew was a very helpful volunteer.

And yet, a particular android had caught his eye. One that was quite special and rare that one of Howard’s colleagues had informed him about. The RK800. Apparently there was one in his sphere that was up for auction. With Howard’s large swathes disposable income and a burning curiosity fueling him, he decided to purchase the RK800.

Upon receiving it, Howard made it nothing more than an assistant, helping him with Project Regenesis. It has become increasingly clear, however, that he needed more than the measly common processors he scrounged up for it. He needed something more advanced.

He needed...

She’s damn near impossible to shop for because she always insists she doesn’t need anything. She’s not a difficult person to please and someone’s presence in her life is enough for her to be happy.

That being said, she likes…being thought of. She likes being given gifts that say ‘I saw this and thought of you.’ Stuff that’s made for her or has thoughts attached to them that are given to her. Stuff they’ve heard her say she wants before. Stuff they know she’d use or things she needs. Or just something they think she’d like.