#androids being androids

[weltato]

Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: None Category: Gen

Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed, Connor & Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Amanda & Connor (Detroit: Become Human)

Characters: Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Amanda (Detroit: Become Human), Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson, Gavin Reed, Sumo (Detroit: Become Human)

Additional Tags: Other Characters Are Mentioned, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Panic, Anxiety, Upgraded Connor | RK900 is Called Nines, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has PTSD, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has Panic Attacks, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has Feelings, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has Feelings, Post-Octopunk Media's Detroit: Evolution Fan Film, (i use the "i hate you/you love me" thing bc i think it's cute), android interfacing, or whatever their connection thing is called, Amanda (Detroit: Become Human) Being an Asshole, Bad Parent Amanda (Detroit: Become Human), Zalgo Text Used, Snow, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Zen Garden (Detroit: Become Human), Minor Original Character(s), Inspired by EPIC: The Musical - Jorge Rivera-Herrans, Song: Scylla (EPIC: The Musical), Songfic, Hank Anderson Swears, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Protective Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson and Connor Live Together, Upgraded Connor | RK900 and Gavin Reed are Police Partners, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human)

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 3,957

Summary:

Connor starts getting glitches in his system but can't find the source. The source ends up finding him instead.

-*- OR: Connor has a final confrontation with Amanda.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

I listened to Scylla, got inspired, wrote DBH fic :D

[candysweetposts]

Edit inspired by Starset's "Perfect Machine".

I skipped a good chunk of chapters but it's ok.

[shepscapades]

Surely this will have no negative consequences whatsoever!

[brucewaynehater101]

Android Tim Drake AU:

Drake Industries announced they had successfully created realistic-looking androids that passed the Turing Test (and harder versions of it). They were planning to release commercial models to the public within twenty years.

To go a step farther, the Drakes wanted to ensure no one was skeptical of the androids' abilities to pass as human. Thus, Janet and Jack Drake had a healthy "human" baby by the name of Timothy Jackson Drake. The only individuals aware of this are Tim, Janet, Jack, and a small handful of engineers bound with a fuck ton of NDAs. They planned to tell the public when Tim was eighteen.

While Janet and Jack Drake are aware of Tim's ability to mimic emotions, they do not believe him to be capable of actually feeling them. This leads to Tim's childhood being lonely and neglectful. He is a robot.

At first, Tim is incapable of consuming human foods or using his touch sense. They fix his touch sense by the time he is four (and thus Dick is his first hug), and the food by the time he is six. He is constantly undergoing repairs to allow him to mimic the growth pattern of a child. It's when he is nine that he finally gets pain sensors to discourage and alert him to damage.

Tim is, for all intents and purposes, legally a human. When Janet dies and Jack gets into a coma, Tim stops receiving "growth spurts." He remains the same size even after Jack wakes up from his coma.

When Tim becomes Robin, he does not disclose his status with Bruce, Dick, or anyone else. Given that his parents treat him like an object, a machine, and incapable of feelings, Tim doesn't want to be subjected to that by his heroes either.

Instead, he gaslights the hell out of the Bats, villains, and other heroes whenever he gets hit.

["Tim! You got flung into a building. You are getting a medical exam."

Tim narrows his eyes as his eyebrows raise in surprise. "Bruce.... what are you talking about?"

"I saw you get thrown into a building. You're not getting out of this."

Tim glances to the side and then back to his mentor. He carefully places a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "B... Maybe we should have Alfred check you over."

Bruce blinks in shock as his brows furrow. "What?"

Tim purses his lips and shakes his head in pity. "It's okay, B. We'll figure it out. Whatever is going on, we'll fix it."

Bruce is so confused and concerned he doesn't ask Tim to get a medical check and agrees to be checked over instead.]

Tim becomes an expert at repairing himself because he can't explain to the engineers (most of who were let go after Janet died) how he got damaged. He spends a lot of nights alone in his room turning off his pain sensors (which isn't an automatic process and is difficult to reach)in order to fix the mangled hand, the gaping gash, the crooked foot, etc.

Kon, and conversely YJ, are the first to find out about his status (darn x-ray vision and super hearing). This encourages Tim to create artificial sounds within himself to fool Superman when they first meet. This also forces Tim to wear a long-sleeved uniform and a hood to hide from x-ray vision.

Tim finds comradery with Red Tornado.

When Jack wakes up from his coma, he originally treats Tim as he did before: an object. Dana, though, changes this. Jack can't explain why he treats his "son" that way and slowly morphs into becoming a good father.

It starts as only occurring when Dana is in the room and ends with a very bitter and antagonistic Jack when she leaves. He is initially disturbed by how much Tim is "faking" emotions, particularly because Tim learned to conceal his emotions from his parents as a coping mechanism (not that Jack knows this).

As they start spending more and more time together, Jack begins accepting the idea that Tim is capable of emotions. He starts caring and loving the kid as his own.

Because of this, Jack becomes fearful for Tim. When he learns that Tim is Robin, he is both jealous of Bruce's relationship with Tim and absolutely terrified for his son (what happens if people find out that Tim is an android? How would they treat him? Tim told Jack the Waynes don't know about his status. What if Tim gets injured too badly during a mission and they find out?)

This is why Jack initially forbids Tim from being Robin. There is way too much at stake for Tim if he continues (even though, theoretically, Tim can't die. Jack can keep saves of Tim and import him into a new body if necessary. They both don't want to do this, however, because Tim's body is his. It would feel weird and wrong to put him in another one).

While Tim is prohibited from being Robin, Jack bankrupts his company in the process of getting Tim rights. He bribes the hell out of judges, law makers, etc. to subtly put I'm rights for androids. He wants Tim to have full access to his inheritance, to freedom, and to everything humans can do. He doesn't want Tim to be without it.

Tim doesn't understand why Drake Industries is going under and is pissed at Jack for preventing him from being Robin. Robin is everything to Tim. It allows him to be treated as human. It connects him to so many people.

It's only afterwards, when Tim is finally allowed to be Robin again (and Jack has ensured he did everything he could for now for Tim's rights), that Tim fully understands how much Jack loves and cares for him.

Then Jack dies.

Tim is able to hide the fact that he's an android up until a Red Helmet asshole breaks into the Tower. While YJ whisk him away before the Bats can find out, Jason knows. Jason found out.

[squidcandy]

siblings in every lifetime

[king-magppi]

📁 The Interrogation... 🚓

Felt like redrawing this scene bc it still hasn't left me... I still feel so bad every time I have to turn this guy in.

[homewrecking-lore]

The thing about the fandom’s interpretation of Data and Pulaski is that it makes both characters extremely flat and boring while also erasing their whole relationship. Data’s made into this flawless, naive baby that can’t defend himself (when he does - when Pulaski mispronounces his name, he tells her exactly why she should pronounce it correctly), while Pulaski is an ugly bitch-hag who is morally reprehensible. Most fanfics portray Data as being uncomfortable or scared of her, while Pulaski’s chomping at the bit to break him into parts. Their whole relationship in season two is based around the fact they both have flaws, and that Data is still learning about what exactly he is capable of as an android.

In “Elementary, My Dear Data”, the big question of the episode is if Data can solve a narrative mystery without it being based on his knowledge of the original stories. Geordi doesn’t know the answer. Pulaski doesn’t. Data doesn’t. From what they know of Data, Pulaski outright dismisses the possibility that Data can, which sparks the episode’s plot.

So when Geordi goes back later and prompts the computer to alter the program to be more challenging, both Data and Pulaski are excited! They want to see where this goes! They are openly having fun with this.

In her first episode, Pulaski dismissed Data when he tried to stay during Troi’s labour, and only relented when Troi said she wanted him there. But by “Penpals”, she assures Sarjenka that Data will be at her side the whole time. When Data expresses doubts, she assures him that this is what’s best for Sarjenka, but that his memories of her will still be important. This is also the same episode where Pulaski defends both her and Data’s personal involvement in the situation to Worf.

In “Measure of A Man”, the game opens with some of the crew playing a poker game. Data and Pulaski are obviously friendly and comfortable enough to socialize together outside of professional circumstances. And again, the scene shows Data calling the game simplistic and assuming he will win, but he turns out to be wrong.

Later in “Peak Performance”, Pulaski sets up Data to compete in Strategema, only for him to end up losing, to everyone’s surprise. The reason why Data’s confidence falls is because he had the exact same assumption about his computational abilities as Pulaski. They were both wrong! When she sees how much losing has affected him, she apologizes:

Data says that he must be malfunctioning. It’s not until Picard tells him that failure can happen even when you do everything right that Data accepts he can make mistakes - and that making mistakes is okay! By the end of the episode, they both know that Data is not infallible, and that he can be affected by failure as much as any human.

Pulaski makes assumptions and mistakes, and so does Data. They learn and grow from them, and their relationship is overall a very positive one despite their very different personalities. It’s an interesting dynamic that gets rewritten by fans entirely, despite the fact that it’s weirdly one of the more developed dynamics in the show.

[shrimperini]

just some cores !!

[moon-mirage]

“You think you can handle 250G now?”

I wanted to draw a scene of them getting along (yes, even with a tiny Vegeta smile ... smirk) during those infamous three years because I believe there was more than just them fighting and screwing each other.

Not to say the latter didn't happen of course 😏:

[mistress-light]

Alien Isolation • Crew Expendable

[spirit-lanterns]

I can see android!Stelle getting all happy and hyper whenever she gets an upgrade. Whether it’s something actually impressive or just the bare minimum I can see this silly trash robot still being very happy and grateful. As she shows off some of her new upgrades for example

A!Stelle: “Look at my upgrade! I got better quality metal to be better at my job! :D”

A!Jingliu: “Mines better.”

A!Stelle: “..no. Because my metal is made by engineer reader! and she said it’s special!”

A!Jingliu: “…”

A!Stelle: “…”

Stelle would then suspiciously be found with some minor dents later on by some unknown causes

Not Android Jingliu going BONK on Stelle out of jealousy 😭😭

I can see Stelle sniffling when she gets hit by Jingliu and running down to the Engineer like a little sibling that got hit too hard. “Engineeeer…!” Stelle is wailing, seeking for your comfort while Jingliu hurriedly rushes downstairs to try and downplay how hard she hit her. And also because she doesn’t want to get in trouble with you.

Jingliu: I didn’t even hit her that hard. I was just testing out the durability of her new metal.

Stelle: *incompressible crying*

P.S: Jingliu genuinely did not mean to hit Stelle that hard, nor did it really hurt. Stelle just had her feelings hurt and wanted you to soothe her 🥺

[lunarparacosm]

hi tumblr i’m making a jegulus /wolfstar sci fi webcomic

first chapter will be free and shall drop hopefully mid-september

[shepscapades]

[dbhc flavored] Hermit a Day May: Day 14 — Doc!

Featuring both a current-day s10 doc and a verrry early s8 post-deviant doc! :]

[hensart]

Them again♥

[willowser]

one thousand lonely stars, hiding in the cold—

android!shouto x reader

wc: 2k+

tags: angst, cyberpunk dystopian setting, financial vulnerability, explicit language, minor mention of sex work + sex workers, reader has strong/conflicting feelings about their situation, and — as always — the question of true humanity.

notes: what a great opportunity this was for me to continue exploring this idea !! tysm to @shoto-brainrot for not only giving me the chance, but also for being such a support and helping me to figure out all this commission jazz !! i so appreciate you, and i hope you enjoy it ! 🩷

original post

You’ve yet to find out what caused the damage to Shouto’s faceplate.

By the time you discovered him outside the credit exchange, he had been busted open and left for—whatever the equivalent of dead is for an android. A gaping hole in the left side of his disturbingly human face exposed his inner circuitry to the rain and you think that should have finished him off, truly, but—he's still kicking. 

Technology in the lower district is distinct. The most careful hands could have crafted him down in the best underground salvage yard and he still wouldn't have lasted half an hour with his face submerged in a shallow mud puddle like that. Wiring would have been shot, fuses blown.

Even if the Todoroki Corporation symbol on his wrist wasn't glowing, a blinking light in time with his would-be heart, you'd know what he is. You'd know he didn't belong down here, beneath the smog, in the industrial bones of your dying city.

And yet—

The left side of Shouto's face took the brunt of whatever blow he'd been dealt, and the scarring—if it's even called that?—has extended down over his cheekbone and backward, so violently that his ear had only barely been hanging on. Without the bandage you've wrapped him up in, he's quite a sight: half a tangled mess of wires and pins, a dull cyan light glowing in his orbital socket. With the wrapping, however, he’s almost exactly as he was meant to be: seamless.

The fate of his detached ear had been unknown. Until this morning.

It still works, much to your surprise, learning so only after wondering aloud the whereabouts of your data docket and hearing Shouto answer from across the apartment. Whoever put him together, you realize, took great care to make him durable, adamantine; the carbon nanotubes and polymer arrays that make up his cochlea were hardly affected by the assault.

Someone—or something—meant to harm him, and you know that for certain, now. Such wreckage couldn’t have happened naturally, not to a Skin-Puppet like him.

(When you look at him, you can’t help but consider his creator. How far he is from them and why. If the hands that made him and the hands that ruined him are the same, if he meant to leave or if he was cast out. You haven’t asked, but it’s odd that a machine could keep such information to himself—itself.)

(Given the brutality behind his mutilation, perhaps it’s best you don’t know the answers.)

Working tech from the richer district—KōkyōLuxuria, above the smog, built high into the clouds—could not only earn you enough to eat this week, but also to pay off all your debts to the League. Maybe even finance a decent apartment a few stories up.

And that’s why you’re here: racing through the slums in the rain, doing your damndest to make this sale before time runs out and you’re forced to find another buyer. Coming across a Hack with 1,640,254 credits in their docket is rare; who knows when you’ll find someone from the Trade in Musutafu sector again? You’re likely to sooner perish—either from your empty stomach or that broker that demanded payment two days ago.

Shouto, however, doesn’t see the urgency.

“Hello, handsome! Awful cold out tonight…care to warm me up?”

“Oh, hello.”

At the even, all-too-friendly lilt in his voice, you halt your sprint again, and spin around with a hiss. “Shouto!” You snap—but it comes too late; the Entertainers have struck like lightning, already scrambling his code. 

Out of habit, you’d pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head before leaving the apartment, and now the material separates his image from view—though you can easily imagine the pleasant expression showing on his face, illuminated in pink under the NanotechNymph advertisement.

At his easily captured interest, two women strut from the open doors of the low-lit den, all allure and swaying hips, mirage flickering beneath the heavy rain. They only meet him halfway—too far from the emanator deep within the club—and you dash forward to stop him from wordlessly accepting their offer. You can’t afford to owe anyone any more than you already do.

“Shouto,” you say again, mouth twisting when he looks at you simply. Despite the hood, his bandage grows dark from the rain and—despite his framework, worry fluxes in your stomach at the thought of him getting too wet. “We have to go.”

“Aww,” an Entertainer says to you, girlish pout pulling down her full lips. “You don’t want to come inside and play with us?”

“No,” you try not to look at them any longer, just in case that racks up a charge, too. Rock solid as he is, Shouto allows himself to be steered away, much to your relief. “Buzz off, holo-ham.”

“I’d like to play.” Shouto pipes up, peeking behind his shoulder when the girls squeal in excitement. “Can we come back once we’ve finished?”

“Not for that kind of play.” You put a hand on the back of his head and swivel it, all while shoving him down the sidewalk. You almost remark on how man-like he’s acting, before chasing the thought away.

“What other types of play are there?”

“Just—hush.” 

And he does, finally, when you loop your arm through his: a presumably innocent gesture that draws his attention fully back to you, as physical touch seems to do, with him. Beneath the material of the jacket, he feels natural, all muscle and bone, even leaning into you as if the weather has made him cold. You can feel him tracing your face with his one-eyed gaze—scanning you—and you pretend not to notice.

“Your heart rate has gone up. Have I made you angry?”

“Yes,” you tell him, though he hasn’t, really. “You and your curiosity are gonna make me late, and then we’ll be in some serious shit.”

He looks away then, down to the soaked pavement, a mimicry of disappointment. From the corner of your eye, you can see his manufactured Adam’s apple bob, and the muscle beneath your hand shifts.

“They seemed nice, the holograms.” He says, and you can’t help the soft snort such a comment merits. 

“Yeah, they’re nice, alright, until you can’t pay them.”

Shouto looks at you once again, stride threatening to falter until you tug him along. “Do you know them?”

You already know where he’s going with his question, and the corner of his lips quirk up when you cast him a filthy look. “Well, no, but—”

“Then how do you know—”

“I just do, alright?” You frown at him and he accepts it in full, studying once more. Whatever he finds in your expression amuses enough that he’s placated for the moment, though you know it won’t be long before he’s piping up again.

He does it often—studies you: body language, physiological changes, speech patterns, vocal cues. Human behavior he catalogs and streams to someone back at the Corporation headquarters, finding the miniscule details he can use against you, some day. Whatever the reason behind his damage, he is still a product of his evil overlords, made for reasons you can only imagine. 

This is what you tell yourself. 

As his fingers shift until their smooth pads are brushing the delicate veins in your wrists, as he tightens his arm around yours when another stranger on the streets knocks your shoulder, as he leans into the warmth of your humanness: this is what you tell yourself.

You’re overcome with a sense of loss and you don’t know why, and you clear the strange lump hardening in your throat. “Life lesson number six, Todoroki,” you murmur it closely to him, nearly into the fabric at his shoulder, though he doesn’t react to the name. “Everybody wants something from someone, holo-hams included.”

Shouto seems to process your words, for a moment, and his face is expressionless when you steal a peek up at him. Technicolor rains down on your both, swathing him in a wild array as advertisements dance on the buildings that tower above you, and again you think of his creator. The careful hands that crafted his smooth cheeks, the sharp line of his nose, the leanness of his body. You wonder if he’s ever been deemed precious.

Nearly all of the residents relegated to the lower districts owe the Todoroki Corporation in some way. Be it through credit loans or applied interest rates on subsidized housing or hidden costs and high premiums on mandatory, shit insurance—Enji Todoroki sits in the lap of KōkyōLuxuria, has probably never even stepped down from his pedestal. 

There’s no good reason a product of his could have found its way to you: this is what you tell yourself.

“And you want my ear.” Shouto says, looking back down at you as your shoulders tense. There isn’t a byte of hostility in his voice, but he must understand the sharpness to what he’s saying.

“Yes,” you admit with a nod, and some underlying, rogue streak of guilt has you pressing into him, as if your proximity could make up for your selfishness. “The sensors in your ear are gonna pay for our dinner tonight, handsome.”

His stride falters once more, and despite the time clock ticking in the back of your mind—you let him stop you. Maybe you want him to. Nothing ever goes unnoticed by him and you know that and maybe it’s cruel of you to say such a thing, to offer a comfort you can’t admit to, but Shouto looks down at you in all his ruination and—

Before he can say anything, a fat drop of water hits the tip of his perfectly manufactured nose. It makes him flinch, delayed, and the surprise he wears and the scrunch of his brow seem so—human, there before you. Shouto tilts his face to the dark, smoggy sky, and again that worry bites you, about too much water trickling into his core.

“We’re going to be late,” you repeat, though it’s much weaker than it was earlier. This is one those moments in which he overrides all your defenses, uploads something warm and hopeful and frightening into your chest cavity; you can’t tell if you want to run because you have to, for the sale—or if it’s a result of watching him now, haloed in neon.

He’s not one to ignore you, but he doesn’t respond, instead retracting his arm from your grip in order to push the hood back off his head. Raindrops soak into his bandage and the excess pools, dripping down over the line of his jaw and the column of his throat. So close to him, you can see the goosebumps that break out across his skin.

(You wonder if he’s ever been deemed precious. You wonder if he meant to leave, or if he was cast out. You wonder if he was created for continued corruption—or if someone out there wanted him to experience life, no matter how rusty.)

(You wonder if he feels as human as he looks. If he can blush, or if the soft skin below his ear can bruise.)

A small sound bubbles out of him, like a light laugh of disbelief. 

You found him face down in the rain; you’re not sure why it could cause such a reaction now, but he turns to eye the commercial playing behind him, before watching the path of a man walking by the two of you. Rain collects in his perfect cupid’s bow until he licks it away, and his hair slicks to the side when he pushes it out of his face. 

Shouto turns his attention back to you rather plainly, though the edges of his smile pull up a little higher than they usually do, enough that the apples of his cheeks round. He asks you, “What’s going to be for our dinner?” and the question is oddly worded, but each one is intentional. 

Maybe it’s not the rain that amuses him—and maybe it is. Maybe it really is that simple, that innocent. Maybe it’s the microtremors in your voice and your increased heart rate, all the little details that could never go unnoticed. 

There isn’t a way that this could end well: this is what you tell yourself.

You nod once and turn to face back the way you came, resigned, before looping your arm through his again. You trace the delicate veins on the inside of his wrist, careful not to cover the slow-blinking symbol embedded there, and you decide it doesn’t matter what his creator did or didn’t want. Because he has wants of his own, just like anyone.

“Okay,” you sigh, and when you slosh through the puddles collecting on the sidewalk, Shouto seems happy to follow along, this time. “I can probably sweet talk Toyomitsu into buying us some takoyaki, but you’re gonna have to play it cool.”

“Is this the kind of play you were talking about?”

That lilt has returned to his voice, even and friendly and amused.

“No,” you swat at him to hear his little huff of laughter, “now stop asking about that.”

Of course he doesn’t.

[gavin-reed-is-gay]

You know what’s funny? Gavin putting his hands on Connor or even aiming a gun at him is competely optional. It’s all up to the player. None of it is technically canon.

But Hank laying his hands on Connor, saying “Listen, asshole. If it was up to me, I'd throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off... or things are gonna get nasty” and aiming a gun at him is canon no matter what.

And yet, Gavin is labelled the asshole 🤔