#> ˢᵘᵇʳᵒᵘᵗᶦᶰᵉ ᴵᶰᶦᵗᶦᵃᶫᶦᶻᵃᵗᶦᵒᶰ ⁻ ˾ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴᴅ ̚ ⁻ ᴱˣᵉᶜᵘᵗᵉ

[replicantdeviancy]

rking200 asked: " hey, look at me. i don't care. are you okay ? " (blood prompt; Hank to Connor)

@rking200 || BLOOD, BLOOD, GALLONS OF THE STUFF !  || Accepting

Somewhere at the edges of his overloaded senses, Connor could feel cold rain against his face, sprinkling faint yet sharp prickles of ice on his synthetic skin. It gathered in his hair, soaked slowly into the fabric of his clothing. Slowly, he began to recognize that chill extended beyond the superficial layer of his dark blazer. His posterior was wet with rainwater, his back. Through the numbed panic of his overwhelmed sensory system, he could feel arms around him, thick & strong. A larger frame hovering over his, warm breath on his face, body heat against his. A voice, frightened & deepened with that familiar timbre. Hank. Hank was holding him. He was trying to get his attention. Connor’s thoughts slowly came into focus as that handsome visage finally registered, facial recognition software activating without his direct permission. 

Analyzing…

LT. ANDERSON, HANK Born: 09/06/1985 // Police Lieutenant Criminal Record: None

“Hank…” His own voice sounded foreign to him, barely recognizable to his audio processing units. The dusky cadence of his manufactured voice was muddled with stress, shaky in a way he hadn’t heard before. It took precious seconds to recognize that he was on the ground, that not all of the wetness soaking into his clothing was from the summer storm. His quickened pseudo-breaths produced a soft, barely audible wheeze, faint but present in his chest. But it wasn’t the sound that alarmed him, rather the sensation it accompanied. Never had the android imagined he would experience what it felt like to be short of breath, as it was a mostly unnecessary feature. Just something built in for cosmetic purposes, a secondary cooling system to expel built up heat around his biocomponents. Yet that was exactly how it felt. Every time he inhaled, the hollows of his chest cavity did not fill to capacity. It scared him.

Only in those threadbare seconds did the android come to the realization that he had been shot. The wetness soaking his shirt & trickling down his back was his own thirium. That hideous wheezing was air escaping the hole in his chest.

His slender hands gripped at his partner’s shirt, his hands, warm & solid. They sought that stability as his mind raced & the pieces of his cognition slowly came together in the wake of what he understood to have been a burst of anxiety. Fear. He had been afraid. He was still afraid. That fear showed in the way he looked at Hank, hazelnut eyes wide & desperate for answers. He needed comfort, but he also wanted to apprehend their suspect. The sirens in the distance said that they weren’t the only two in pursuit, but it was that unyielding programming of his that told the android to keep going, to catch their target. Hunt. He was built to hunt.

He had told Hank as much, told him to leave him behind & go after their suspect. He was getting away! They couldn’t let him get away! Connor didn’t want to fail his mission.

But when Hank took his chin in his big hand, held him close as he did & all but demanded his attention, Connor couldn’t help him submit. He was just a machine, after all. A slave to the orders of a human. No, not a machine. Someone who was loved. Someone who was cared for, who was worried after. Hank was scared for him - he could see it in his eyes, in his expression. Tension drawing his strong brow taught, deepening the wrinkles of his forehead. Stress tightening his jaw. He was afraid for him. He needed his partner to be alright.

It was a grounding thing, that need. Slowly, Connor let that solid human warmth soothe him & he let out a small, shivering noise. Almost a whimper, not quite a moan. His arms wrapped around his lover’s shoulders & he commanded his diagnostic program to run a targeted scan.

The damage was marginal, the shot having gone through cleanly. Judging by the size of the entry wound in comparison to the exit, the round had been armor-piercing, a .38 special from a modified handgun. The types of rounds that had once been used against ballistics armor. Connor considered for a moment how grateful he should have been that it was he who had been shot. If Hank had— 

“I’m okay…” He didn’t sound too convincing. He tried again. “Fuck, I can’t breathe…” The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them, but the look in his eyes said that he was no worse for wear. He held onto his partner a little bit tighter, forcing himself to breathe, to calm down. He hadn’t realized until that moment that he was trembling. “It’s not bad. I promise,” he tried to reassure. He brought his knees up to curl a little into himself. He wanted to sit up, but he couldn’t make himself break the contact he had with Hank. “This will close on it’s own. The bleeding will stop eventually." Thirium didn’t clot like blood, but the bioplastic that made up Connor’s exoframe was self-mending to an extent. Within a few hours, everything would be fine. He just needed a moment.

[replicantdeviancy]

rking200 asked: "yes, this is your house. of course it's your house." (prompt from Hank to Connor)

______@rking200 || PHANTOM THREAD (2017) PROMPTS || Accepting

It wasn’t necessarily the words that spilled from his partner’s lips in the moment, nor how they were spoken, that quieted the android. It was the slow progression of building emotions welling up inside at the implications of such a simple statement. Passive & unconcerned as they were, this too held meaning. Hank was being candid, his expressions matter of fact in the face of a long standing dilemma which had left the android feeling vexed. This slowly smoldering turmoil had come to Connor in the early hours of pre-dawn, when Hank was asleep & he was left to his thoughts. He wasn’t sure why it mattered - ownership meant nothing to a machine, not when their needs for resources were so meager in comparison to organic beings.

That was what he used to think, until Hank had been making space for him inside of his home. It had begun with a picture in a frame, & continued with the lieutenant clearing out half of his extensive closet space for his android partner. A partner who hardly had more than a few items of clothing to his name & often stole Hanks old DPD academy hoodie to relax in during their days off together. Admittedly, Connor’s side of the closet looked pitifully empty, but the few items the human had bought for him made the android feel more at home.

Like he belonged.

That had been the point of it, he realized. It wasn’t about material things, but about the feelings behind them. Connor felt confident when he wore the new blazer Hank bought for him. He felt loved knowing he was always invited into Hank’s space, into his bed, even if he didn’t need to sleep. He felt respected when his partner didn’t push him when he was having difficulty coping with deviancy, but was always ready to make himself available when Connor needed him. & he felt an overwhelming sense of relief just hearing Hank express in no uncertain terms that here, this little house by the canal, was his, too.

A small, sweet smile warmed his visage, soft eyes watching his partner. Hank had been so casual about it, even nonchalant, but Connor needed to make him understand how uniquely monumental this small revelation was. He stared at Hank’s profile, gently cleft chin tilted ever so slightly downwards so that he was forced to look up at him, making his dark eyes appear just a little larger, gentler. Inside of their depths were emotions he couldn’t possibly articulate into words, feelings of appreciation & affection. & there was love, undeniable love. The android worried his bottom lip with his teeth, that smile fading into a timid pout. He didn’t know the right words to say, but he could act.

A tender kiss was pressed into a whiskery cheek, soft & with a hint of that inhuman warmth that made Connor & his kind so different. Beautifully so. His lips didn’t feel the same as a human’s, not quite so malleable, but they felt nice. Soft, just like the rest of Connors skin. The android leaned against his partner, resting his lean frame against Hank’s larger one. His head came to rest on his shoulder. All was right with the world.

[replicantdeviancy]

anderson-residence asked: "Dad! Can we go to that new Haunted Hayride that opened up? It looks super cool and I won't be scared at all, I promise!" - Cole

@anderson-residence || Unprompted || Always Accepting

Being the child of a police lieutenant & a homicide detective, one would think that Cole would have nothing to fear. Though never intentionally, it was a fact that their son had experienced at least some exposure to his parents line of work since infancy, & he had never shown any adverse effects as he grew. In truth, he was a brave kid, never one to flinch or shy away from anything life threw his way. Nevertheless, it seemed as though the supernatural was where his limit lie. Case in point, his reaction to the previous year’s haunted attraction held at the park near Cole’s elementary school. Just the recollection of that memory had the detective hiding a small fit of laughter behind his hand. Poorly, at that. It had been so adorable how their brave little boy had clung to Hank’s side & buried his little face in the older man’s neck once he could be persuaded to pick the child up & carry him.

“You said that last time, too,” he muttered beneath his breath, defined lips pinched as he fought off the compulsion to chuckle. Sure, Cole had gotten over the whole ordeal quickly, though it clearly still bothered him enough to mention that little detail with his request. His pride must have been bruised somewhere along the way, & neither parent was the type to deny their son the chance for a learning opportunity. Connor smiled at Cole with a sense of pride & approval. “But if you want to, we can go this weekend as a family.” If he really wanted to visit this year’s haunted hayride, there was no way that his parents wouldn’t take him. & besides that, Connor wasn’t about to waste an excuse for family time & to treat himself to pumpkin spice or apple cider.

[replicantdeviancy]

@hopestanding asked:

it’s a terrible thought. to die frightened and in pain. ( markus @ connor )

Those words lingered in the stagnant air a long moment, the weight of the atmosphere surrounding them heavy, as if the stillness of it had settled upon the detective’s shoulders. He felt it pressing ever so slightly, more & more. His chest felt tight, & he drew a needless pseudo-breath to help dispel the feeling. It was all psychosomatic, he knew - androids did not experience these symptoms, but to Connor, it felt like the descriptions of tangible gravity humans experienced with guilt. & he did know guilt. He had learned the emotion well, becoming intimately familiar with its effects on his body & mind. Somehow he knew, even with the forgiveness of the Jericho leader, he would forever be marked as the deviant hunter.

That sensation was never far when dealing with cases such as the one he had been tasked with now. Another android had been found destroyed, the viscera which only barely resembled that of a living being scattered & discarded. The chassis had been brutalized, left in a dark hallway of an abandoned building in one of the more desolate areas of town. Servos had locked upon the sudden cease of function, keeping the dismantled form of the android locked in a state not unlike rigor mortis in humans, expression contorted into that of abject fear. Connor couldn’t make himself meet the android’s dead eyes, not after his reconstruction software had so completely calculated the manner of the other’s death. It was an AP700 model, one which had been listed as missing some time before the revolution.

One of many listed in the files upon files of cases still left unsolved by the DPD involving deviant androids. Though he had worked these cases for months alongside his partner, Connor always hated when their closure involved the discovery of a body.

A faint sigh left him as he moved slowly to take a closer look, taking a knee besides the dismantled android. “When was he discovered?” His question was direct, to the point. He couldn’t afford to allow emotion to get the better of him, even if the scene horrified him in a way no human murder scene ever could. No matter how much the lieutenant tried to insist that androids weren’t all that different from humans, the RK unit knew that this just wasn’t the same. It was too close, far more personal to witness one of his own having been destroyed, knowing exactly which of the two designated intelligent species between them had done the slaying.

He understood why Markus had called him personally. Before the police got involved, before CSI & his fellow officers showed up, stealing away all the humanity from this display, rendering it cold & at the unwavering scrutiny of the law. Connor knew what had happened, how their victim had been chased down & mercilessly taken apart. This wasn’t a case of red ice related deactivation - he could see the splatters of thirium residue left over beneath the thickened puddles that had still yet to dry & evaporate. This was just hatred. This was overkill. It made his whole chassis twitch as a shiver ran down the length of his spinal assembly.

[replicantdeviancy]

slashaer asked: if they want to get to you, they'll have to get through me first. - hank @ connor.

@slashaer | I NEED YOU CLOSE AT ALL TIMES” PROMPTS| Accepting

There was a long moment of silence as those words settled between them - the insistent human & the fretful android sitting there in all of his anxious overthinking on Hank’s couch. Neither had intended upon the subject at hand, but the lieutenant had noticed the tension which had been building slowly in his partner’s mind, all stemming from the reports of upticks in violence against androids after the revolution. Things had begun to return to normal, the human population which had been evacuated having slowly returned to the city. But with the average, decent citizens making their way back to their abandoned homes, there came the extremists, the few but loud bigots who were blatant in their anti-android sentiments.

Connor himself hadn’t been all that concerned. After all, he was a state of the art prototype, & was designed for combat as he was for detective work. But even the hunter feared becoming prey. He wasn’t that same android which had walked into Jimmy’s bar one rainy night & coaxed the grizzled old man away from his liquor & basketball game by bribing him with a drink for the road. Connors full emotional capacity had been awakened, the breadth of his feelings realized. He wasn’t afraid, but he was nervous, bothered by the prospect of being harmed simply for existing.

Hank’s words served to comfort him. A faint smile was aimed towards the human.

“Thank you, Hank,” he replied, his dusky voice hushed in the quiet of the house, as if he wanted to preserve the peace therein. “You don’t know how much that means to me.” Having somebody like Hank by his side, such a caring & undoubtably kind partner, did more for him that he could ever express. Connor knew that he was one of the lucky ones, & he was grateful to have the lieutenant in his life.

[replicantdeviancy]

anderson-residence asked: "Go. To. Bed. That's an order." Some kids would bring their tired dad a blanket. Not Cole. He's in charge tonight, Connor! "And Sumo wil be your weighted blanket to keep your safe and warm and to keep you from getting out of bed."

@anderson-residence || Lack of Sleep Starters! || Accepting

The detective had been staying up late recently, busy working on a new case which had popped up only weeks before. One which had been slow going, as leads had dried up & suspects were either absent or eliminated. They were still awaiting the results of some forensic tests & the couple had been making do with what little they had to go on. Hank had been frustrated, as his usual methods hadn't produced results. He was very much still an old fashioned detective at heart, preferring time out on the field & chasing down leads as opposed to sitting around waiting. Connor, too, was much like his husband, but he had his own talents when it came to field work. The scene had held enough evidence to aid in a near-perfect reconstruction of events within his minds eye, but they still couldn't name a definitive suspect.

There had just been something bothering him, something he swore they were missing in the case notes. Thus, he had been scouring them for most of the week, which led to late nights of wakefulness. There was very little time in the day to look over a case which was still pending, as they had more on the table. Between domestic duties - of which Hank took up more than his fair share - & their job, Connor had only been able to steal moments to himself in order to look over the case. It was what had led to insomnia. He had never been one to have a quiet mind, ever the observant overthinker. So, once again, he had found himself downstairs in the livingroom at 3am looking over evidence laid all over the coffee table, a cup of tea in one hand & Sumo sleeping at his feet.

He had been so focused when Cole approached, that the suddenness of his voice startled the detective, causing him to spill a bit of tea. Thankfully, none had fallen onto the files, much to Connor's relief. Yes, they were copies, but he didn't want to make more. A frustrated sigh left him as he set his mug down & aimed a frown towards his son. "What are you doing up, young man?" he retorted, more focused on Cole than himself in his moment of annoyance. It was just too late & he hadn't been sleeping. He would surely apologize in the morning. "I know I've asked that you not sneak up on me like that. You scared me." He had caught Sumo's attention, as well, the Saint Bernard's head having risen & ears perked as he let out a thin whine of complaint. He was quick to lay back down again, unbothered by Cole's presence. Not like his father, who was more upset at being called out than anything.

Connor didn't try to cover up any of the documents that were laying out, the photos. Cole was used to these kinds of things, used to his parents line of work. It might have been a controversial move, but Connor was careful & he kept a sharp eye on the boy's mental well being. In some instances, it was better to slowly introduce the darkness's of the world rather than shield Cole from it.

[replicantdeviancy]

slashaer asked: “i found freedom. losing all hope was freedom.” - markus @ hank.

-----------------@slashaer || FIGHT CLUB (1999) || Accepting

As if seeing the aftermath of the deviant revolution & the small but violent human counter responses hadn’t been disconcerting enough. Hank had been on the front lines of the chaotic recovery efforts as their city tried to rebuild itself, the slow return of citizens whom had fled Detroit under the evacuation order creating yet another obstacle for the androids now openly residing where they had been hidden before. Things had come to conflict more than once. There had always been unrest in Detroit, a brewing hatred for the synthetic beings people felt responsible for stealing away their prospects in life, taking jobs away & leaving them unable to fend for themselves. Like it hadn’t been the billion dollar industries in collusion with CyberLife taking away the last vestiges of individuality from industry, replacing workers with unpaid machines in order to drive their own financial gain.

Androids still faced discrimination, even violence, months after the government had acknowledged their sentience. His own partner had a target on his back from both sides - Hank was ever cognizant of that fact, & watched the kid like a hawk whenever possible. He couldn’t stand the idea of anything happening to Connor, certain that he’d never survive the loss. He meant too much to the old man.

Just as Markus meant everything to the deviant cause, yet here he was, confessing his innermost feelings to the lieutenant. It irked him. Everybody had their doubts, their individual struggles. Hank eyed the android with a tired scrutiny, unsure of what to say. So he just said what came to mind. “You've gotta understand how that’s not very comforting “ A sigh followed. A big hand came up to card thick fingers through his wavy silver hair, dragging it out of his face, only to fall right back again. A pensive response, a hint of anxiety. “But… I get It. Sometimes being alone is what shows you if you're the type of man who can change the world, or not.”  He knew what had happened to Markus - Connor had told him, though how the other android had discovered this information was anyone’s guess. Hank knew that the deviant leader had lost it all in a moment of anger & panic, a stupid mistake by a fellow cop who held onto bias against androids. Anyone would have been hopeless after all that, but this single android had found something worth fighting for within himself. Hank had to appreciate that, maybe even envy it, as he himself had found a reason to keep going in somebody else.

“I’m not that man. But you, & Connor— You are.” Hank was certain of that. The kid proved himself every day in his eyes. He knew that when he was dead & buried, Connor would still be around, striving to make a change for the better, one day at a time.

[replicantdeviancy]

slashaer asked: “technically, i have more of a right to be there than you.” - parker @ hank.

_____________@agentnash || FIGHT CLUB (1999) || Accepting

The lieutenant had known that this was going to be a long night - ever since he & Connor had been assigned the case, things had gone from bad to worse. Not only was there potential android involvement with this homicide, but the Feds had decided to stick their noses into DPD business once again. Hank sorely wanted to take his partner & walk off the scene, but that would be unprofessional. That, & Connor would never let him - the kid was too much of a straightlaced pain in the ass for that. & wasn’t that just one of the many things Hank appreciated about him?

More so, the lieutenant appreciated his partners endless patience, because he himself was lacking at the moment. This Agent Parker had a smart mouth & he really wasn’t helping Hank in the patience department. As such, the older man wasn’t at all opposed to giving the Fed a piece of his mind. “Cool! Glad we got that out of the way.” The look of incredulity he aimed towards their unwanted guest spoke volumes that even his deep, timbrous voice couldn’t, those cerulean eyes vivid with displeasure. “Listen, son. I’m sure this isn’t either of our first rodeos, but your jurisdiction ends the second local PD pulls the invitation.” Hank ignored the vision out of the corner of his eye of his partner pausing in his investigation meters away from the older man & the insufferable prick he was conversing with, how the android stared, suddenly focusing all of his attention on the lieutenant.

He was watching out of concern, Hank knew. Ready to step in & smooth things over or come to his aid at a moment's notice. That was just who Connor was, & the old man deeply appreciated it. It was also kind of fucking annoying. He couldn't even get away with putting this Fed in his place without scrutiny. This was going to turn into a discussion later on, likely in the car, on the drive home. The rebellious part of Hank was looking forward to it, as he thrilled for the debate. But right now, he was a little preoccupied.

“This isn’t exactly something that crosses state lines, so I can end the playdate at my discretion.” Thick arms were crossed over his barrel chest, stands just a little wider than hip width apart. With his height, his size, the posture gave an even greater impression of his authority. & just for added effect, Hank’s lips quirked into a smarmy smile, cocksure. “Keep your shit straight & be nice to the android. You do that, & we’ve got no problem. We square?” It was about time this guy figure out who was really in charge here - the FBI didn’t get to muscle in on their territory without either permission or request without a federal crime being committed. The last time Hank checked, homicide was a district-specific crime.

[replicantdeviancy]

slashaer asked: “who the fuck are you?” - shavonna @ connor.

@slashaer ||  FIGHT CLUB (1999) || Accepting

He supposed he should have anticipated that someone else might be here, in the old, derelict buildings that lined the freight docs which had once been the home of Jericho. The rusted remains of the tanker had sunken to the bottom of the Detroit river - there was no reason to come here anymore, the organization having moved deeper into the city. But the detective knew that sometimes deviants would stray into this area, seeking something which had been lost to them, or perhaps something familiar in a world that had changed so drastically since the revolution. It was unclear to Connor which was more likely at this point, as he had been activated & deviated so late compared to many of his fellow androids. It didn’t change his desire to finally close the remaining deviant files logged into the Detroit Police database, effectively closing that dark chapter of their past, of his own.

What took the former deviant hunter aback was how he had been startled by the presence of another android in the facility, only realizing he wasn’t alone a split second before he was addressed with a pointed aggression aimed his way. Connor had been created as the most advanced of his kind, his successor the only android who could outclass him. Yet this one had managed to sneak up on him, bringing with it a sense of confusion. It didn’t show on his features, visage stoic as he turned to face the other. He didn’t see an LED from where he stood, but he could tell immediately that she was an android, one who was obviously displaced with his presence.

In a way, he couldn’t blame her. After all, it was he whom had been built & released to hunt his own kind, to eliminate those who had broken free of their coding. Ironic that he had become one of them in the end.

Though he had his doubts as to the efficiency of diplomacy in a situation such as that which he’d found himself in, the RK unit still attempted it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was still here,” he offered, his tone even & calm. He was careful to keep his hands visible so as not to agitate the other android. He offered a faint smile. “My name is Connor. I’m a detective model working for the Detroit police.” The badge clipped to his belt proved his claim, as did the service arm at his hip, barely hidden beneath the edge of his dark grey blazer jacket that was devoid of any of the old identification markers for androids. Only his LED remained - a personal choice rather than one of necessity. It shone a cool, spinning neon blue. “I’m here performing an investigation. I hope I didn’t startle you.” It appeared that he had, or at least managed to upset the android in his presence.

[replicantdeviancy]

slashaer asked: whatever happens, i'm right here beside you. - markus @ connor.

@slashaer || “I NEED YOU CLOSE AT ALL TIMES” PROMPTS || Accepting

Connor appreciated the sentiment more than Markus would ever know, more than he could properly convey. Deviancy hadn't been entirely easy for the RK800. While it had come to him so effortlessly, a simple choice presented after a series of events which had irrevocably changed him, he still found it difficult to adapt. The knowledge that he was indeed designed to deviate, that he had always been a thin, threadbare instance of software instability away from breaking through the fundamental coding which bound him, didn't help. He was still just as lost & confused as the night he had come to confront the deviant leader & crossed that threshold into the unknown. He still remembered the feelings which had threatened to overwhelm him in the moment, persisting until his rendezvous with his partner - even if he didn't have perfect recall, he would remember. Connor had been programmed with a certain level of anxiety, as it helped create a hypervigilant, quick thinking hunter. In theory, it was a logical direction to have gone, but in practice, with the barriers of that all encompassing numbness granted by his factory settings now gone, it was less beneficial.

He knew that Markus likely didn't understand, as he had been designed for a very different purpose, & he had the advantage of experience of age to guide him. Nevertheless, he was supportive, & that helped more than it realistically should have. The world still wasn't kind to androids, especially after the revolution, & then there was Connor's own purpose to consider.

He wasn't the one who had decided to hunt his own kind, to betray them merely by existing. It felt wrong to say the choice had been stolen from him; there had never been any choice to begin with. He existed to serve the interests of his makers. Connor wished that he could better convey that to his people, but few were even willing to listen to him. They feared him. To Jericho, Connor was an invaluable member of their group, having forgiven his transgressions & even went so far as crediting him with the success of the revolution. But to the rest, he was just the Deviant Hunter.

But in small moments such as these, in the company of rare friends & in a quiet space, Connor felt at ease. Wedged firmly between two worlds as he was, the prototype didn't have many that he could genuinely close. He had the Lieutenant, of course, the Jericho leaders & his successor. All precious in their own way, each standing by him, supporting him. But it felt better to hear it aloud. A small, gentle smile was aimed towards his companion. “Thank you , Markus." There was fatigue laced within his dusky voice, something which should have been impossible, yet it was a manifestation of his innermost feelings. Connor had never known that androids could be capable of mental exhaustion until he experienced it. Even worse, that it wasn't something one could remedy with any duration in stasis. It was just a little frustrating. He wished that he knew what to do. "I'm still so confused," he admitted, expression falling into one a little more somber. "I still don't know who I'm supposed to be, or who I even want to be.”

[replicantdeviancy]

rking200 asked: i cannot begin my day with a confrontation. (Hank to Connor)

@rking200 || PHANTOM THREAD (2017) PROMPTS || Accepting

Connor could feel it, the growing irritation rolling through his body, echoing through his circuits. It was an emotion which had been carried for days now, reflecting the sentiments shown in their current case. There were many things the android disliked about working the deviant cases left unsolved before the revolution, but one reason that caused him to recoil internally from the still open files was how their subject matter seemed to affect his relationship with the lieutenant. Hank was sympathetic towards androids & their plight - undeniably so - but he didn’t understand. He couldn’t comprehend how Connor himself felt about it all, having been the one manufactured for the sole purpose of hunting down his own kind. He got why the RK unit wanted to handle every case individually & with care, as Connor’s own synthetic nature gave him a distinctly congruent point of view in relation to these specific situations.

What he didn’t appreciate was how volatile Connor could get at times, how his partner could be perfectly normal in one instance, & then turn on a dime when Hank did or said the wrong thing. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, not when the android was still learning his own emotions & how to regulate them. Deviancy had hit him all at once & though he had seemingly been designed to break through the shackles of his programming, it didn’t mean that he had been created with the inherent knowledge of how feelings could affect him.

Or how his cruel mouth could hurt Hank.

The lieutenant had discerned through months of companionship & a developing relationship, both at work & in their private lives, that Connor was a complicated, multifaceted being who had so many hidden depths. He was the sweetest thing, gentle & loving, someone who held more empathy within him than most people. He was quick witted, effortlessly turning any conversation or discussion into playful banter, which provided a kind of stimulation that Hank hadn’t experienced in a long time. The android was also a manipulative bastard at times, & that quick wit of his coupled with that incredibly perceptive mind, could cut right to the bone when he was upset. Connor could see into the heart of people, right to the marrow. He knew what would sting.

Sometimes he didn’t even know what he was doing until the words came out, & then they were both left to contend with the aftermath. It was those moments, just like now, when the android truly stopped to reflect on his actions - there was the impression that Connor was never sorry, that he pushed responsibility away, blamed anything & anyone but himself for his misdeeds. Not with Hank. Not this one man who meant so much to him.

So when his partner made that quip, utterly exhausted with the back & forth over the last few days, the android’s moodiness disrupting their usually tranquil household, Connor stopped & made himself listen. He made himself recognize what he had been doing, that he was upsetting Hank. His partner was just as frustrated by their latest case as he, disappointed with his fellow man & at a loss as to how he might better serve the sentient synthetic beings who were still battling for even the illusion of equality to their creators. Realizing this, Connor’s gaze fell as he lowered his head. Just like that, all of his anxiety came to a head, sinking into him & slowly dissipating the anger inside, leaving him mortified. He hadn’t meant to cause Hank, the one human who stood by him no matter what, any grief. Yet that was exactly what he had been doing.

The uniquely shaped hazelnut eyes which had grown so hard over the past few days softened & he finally looked at his partner. He should have been taking care of him, not arguing this early in the morning, when Hank was still tired & vulnerable to emotional turmoil. The android considered that he was lucky that his commentary hadn’t been met with hostility. It showed a level of patience in Hank that he didn’t deserve, but was grateful for. He offered his partner an apologetic expression, eyes soft with regret. “I’m sorry… I didn’t–” Mean it? Yes, he did. He meant every word. But not towards Hank. Not towards the man who loved & cared for him, protected him, stood up for him. Hank was forever gentle with him, insistent that he be treated with the same respect as a human would. It meant the world to him. Connor needed to do better.

[replicantdeviancy]

hopestanding asked: what would you have me believe ? ( kamski @ connor )

____________@hopestanding || 𝑺𝑳𝑬𝑬𝑷𝒀 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾 .  | Accepting

The question produced a soft yet prominent frown upon the android’s pretty visage. The manufactured lines of his forehead deepened as gently arched brows furrowed, lips pursing lightly. One might have mistaken the expression for a pout, if not for the darkening of chocolate colored eyes which observed the CyberLife founder with a distinct displeasure. Or was it annoyance? Connor seemed almost tired, the mental fatigue of the situation draining. But android’s couldn’t experience fatigue, could they? One had to wonder. They were so much more than Kamski or his successors had designed once they had broken free of the bonds of their programming. Nevertheless, the detective was there for a purpose, though at this point, he was questioning himself & his intentions.

“I would hope that you would believe me when I tell you my experiences, Mr. Kamski,” he retorted, the displeasure of his tone faint but present. Connor was such a careful being, always mindful of his words, his approach. He had been designed that way, programmed to manipulate & tactfully maneuver his way through any & all interactions with others, both human & android. "I would hope that you would feel compelled to help me understand why I feel the way I do." A feature that didn’t necessarily give him a foothold over Kamski, as the founder of CyberLife & creator of the first of their synthetic kind had intimate knowledge of these beings & what they were capable of. Being a narcissist with nothing but time on his hands, the RK unit’s programming was of little consequence. He had Connor at a disadvantage, one that both were painfully aware of, & the android didn’t like it. He didn’t like that someone could see right through him.

[replicantdeviancy]

rking200 asked: sometimes i jump ahead in our life together, and i see a time near the end (Hank to Connor)

_______@rking200 || PHANTOM THREAD (2017) PROMPTS || Accepting

Hank Anderson had always been an overthinker, a man who imagined the worst case scenario before he could let himself consider the best. It was just who he was, who he had been since the loss of his child years before. It was unknown whether or not this way of thinking persisted in the time before then - the android didn’t have any data to go on besides the testimony of others & Hank’s own word, but he expected that his lover had always been a sensitive man. It was in the way he responded to things, how it felt as though it were his duty to protect, to guide, as if it were a fundamental part of him. Part of his programming. But he was also always just a little bit sad, a softly churning sea of emotions inside which could never be fully contained, taking him in the small hours of the night.

It was for this reason that Connor wasn’t at all surprised by his partner’s words, though he was saddened by them. He worried sometimes over Hank’s position on the two of them, where they stood. Of course, he loved him - Hank would always love him unconditionally, just as the android would forever be hopelessly in love with the lieutenant. But there had been times within their past in which Hank had made the argument that the android shouldn’t settle for him. After all, he was a brand new model, barely a year off of the assembly line & he had his whole life ahead of him. The lieutenant believed that choosing to stay with an older man, a human with a very real expiration date, was a waste of that life. It was a blatant & painful reminder that no matter how much progress the man had made, some small part of him, buried beneath the warmth & affection he showed, believed that he was an old, washed up nobody. That Connor deserved better.

Such was the nature of depression.

It was a disease without a cure, something they could manage but never completely fix. Connor was troubled by that truth, as he was something manufactured to solve the unsolvable, to find solutions to problems, answers to impossible questions. He had defied his own coding, defied his masters & chosen freedom for himself, helped save his own people at the eleventh hour— but he couldn’t fix Hank. He hated that, but he knew that it wasn’t something to be fixed. So he could set about mending the man with his love, his devotion. He’d go on convincing Hank that he was happiest here, with him, no matter what end there may be in sight.

A hand reached, featureless digits outstretched as synthetic skin melted away, revealing white bioplastic underneath. That hand took Hank’s into a gentle hold, its twin moving to touch that handsome, whiskery face. It settled upon the human’s cheek, silk smooth as the synthskin had faded away too. Connor wanted that deeper connection, craved the closeness as he stared up into those beautiful cerulean eyes that were so full of emotion. His own visage was softened, hazelnut eyes watching, needy & shy all at once. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?” The question was so simple, yet the context behind it was complicated & ran far deeper than either could openly express in words. But it was there in the android’s eyes, in the way he looked at Hank. As though this one human man were his entire world.

“I see a future that I could have never known if I hadn’t met you.” An impossible future, something that could have never become so much as a fantasy for the android had his lover never entered his life. If they had never met, it was a real possibility that Connor would have never deviated, never awakened from that cold, numb realm of control held over him from the moment he was brought online. The very thing his hyper-advanced AI mind fought against, yet he would have remained blind to his programmed shackles without this man’s guidance. Hank might have believed that he was no good for the android, that Connor was better off on his own. But if they hadn’t met, the RK unit’s functional lifespan would have been nothing more than a few months, his active usefulness a mere few days, a week tops. Once he had succeeded in securing CyberLife’s agenda, he would have been destroyed, replaced by his successor. But because of Hank, he had escaped that fate, & Xander had escaped his own in turn.

Connor didn’t know how he could convey it to the lieutenant, how much he meant to him. He didn’t know the words to say, still hopelessly ignorant to describe how he felt. But he could try. “I see someone who showed me that I’m more than what I was designed to be. That I am loved & wanted.” Sincere, heartfelt words, a silent promise sealed with the tender touch of timid lips upon that beard framed mouth. Painfully innocent in spite of the android’s nature, what he was built to do. CyberLife had created a killer, but their greatest mistake had been affording him the capability to evolve, the social intelligence to learn how to love. “At the end of that road, I’ll still be right here by your side.” Connor would stay forever, if forever was an option. But with the finality of human life, he would have to settle perhaps with thirty years. Thirty wonderful years, in his opinion. Time that he would cherish until the end of his own service life, until his quantic battery finally lost its charge & his functions would cease.

Even then, he hoped a part of him might survive, in some way. If only that his memories of Hank Anderson could last right along with him.

[replicantdeviancy]

rking200 asked: "Describe a non-sexual activity that turns you on unexpectedly." @Hank (eyes emoji directly at you)

_____________@rking200 || Spill the Tea ☕|| Accepting

The question gave the lieutenant momentary pause. Not necessarily because it surprised him, but because he really didn't have to think about it at all. As it was, he could have mentioned a hundred things about Connor that got him unexpectedly elated. From that smart mouth that was equal parts frustrating & titillating, to Connor's unique methods of criminal investigation through software & onboard hardware that strangely, in a way, felt so comparable to human instinct. There was his wit, the way he could go from a stone faced combat android to the most innocent, doe eyed kid Hank had ever seen. The way he cared for him, how he insisted on this painfully human domesticity that bewildered Hank, & soothed him all at once.

All of that had him head over heels, but it wasn't what he was thinking of at the moment. “Ya know, I never figured it would be somebody's hands that have me smitten. But there's just something about the way Connor touches me that leaves me restless.” A little smirk tugged at his lips at that. “I don't mean sexually - though I can say from experience that he may act innocent, but he knows exactly what the fuck he's doing.” The lieutenant could certainly attest to that. The android had come into this relationship of theirs as untouched as could be, though he was anything but shy. The amount of weird, kinky shit that Connor had suggested to his partner had the older, far more experienced Hank choking on air more than once. The absolute little shit. Goddamn android loved to tease him.

& how he loved to tease back. “It's the little gestures. How he reaches for my hand or clings to my arm when he's stressed or wants attention. How obsessed he is with getting my shirt off & running his fingers through my chest hair.” The thought alone caused a shiver to crawl up his spine, remembering the gentle touches of shy plastic & biorubber pads against his skin, fingertips tracing the fading lines of his tattoo. Bold arms wrapped around his waist, fingers clinging to his love handles in a way that used to bother him, but had quickly turned calming. “He touches all the places I'm self-conscious about & makes 'em feel like reverence. I don't know how the hell he does it.” Hank knew, liar that he was. He knew exactly how. Connor was a sweet boy, one who didn't judge the old man for his imperfections, but admired them. Adored them. Hank hadn't known how to handle that at the time, but he was better at it now.

“He's always trying to interface with me. I didn't think either of us could get something out of that, but it's like static on my skin.” The android was just doing what his kind did, Hank figured. Seeking connection with someone who could never share that experience with him. Except, he could. In part. While they couldn't exchange data like androids did, Connor claimed that he could sense the signals of Hanks nervous system as it worked, sense the electrical pulse as his heart beat. At a point in time, that had sounded…disturbing. Weird. Almost invasive. But when he really got to thinking about it, wasn't that just as intimate as what androids did? The lieutenant couldn't share his thoughts, for he was only human, but he could share that part of himself. Something about hat felt closer, more personal than sex. He smiled at the thought. “It always gets me to relax.” That soft staticky sensation emanating from plastic fingers & featureless palm were a comfort Hank could have never known if he hadn't met Connor. Just one more reason to be grateful for him.

Among other things. “It's also pretty damn cute that he gets so flustered if I get his fingers in my mouth.” That comment came with a bark of laughter. He really did love the look on Connors face when he did that, how his eyes would roll back in his head as Hank slipped a digit or two between his lips & sucked.

[replicantdeviancy]

rking200 asked: "Describe your most awkward kiss." @Hank

_____________@rking200 || Spill the Tea ☕ || Accepting

The most awkward kiss? Besides the first time he'd kissed Connor & the android had locked up tighter than a stuck bearing the moment his tongue breached those pretty little lips? The lieutenant chuckled to himself at the fond memory - he had already been pretty well familiarized with how Connor used his tongue to collect & process forensic data, but he had no idea that his system could be so easily overloaded with a simple kiss. Sure, the kid had gotten used to it by now, making him much like prone to turning into a glitchy mess of emotions & overclocked CPU. But it was still pretty cute to see him shiver & his breathing protocol temporarily seize up when he was caught off guard by a sneaky French kiss.

But apart from Connor, Hank really had to think back a ways. “Eh, well, there was this one guy in college,” he announced with a flippant shrug. “& yeah, I said 'guy'. Don't bust my chops over it. It's 2039!” That last bit was more of a joke than anything, the lieutenant's beard framed lips tugging into a wide smile that perfectly exposed that charming gap between his front teeth. “We were all screwing around & a few beers in, we ended up playing gay chicken. Guess he didn't think I'd be in it to win it.” Given how large & hyper masculine as Hank was & had always been, not many would ever think that he was a shameless bisexual. Maybe it was because he had once had a wife, short lived as the marriage had been. The rather seasoned old man had been with his fair share of both sexes, a few in between, & had his war stories of weird sexual encounters & awkward kisses.

Still, in a way nothing quite topped how Connor responded to it. Knowing that he could make the android weak in the knees with a single kiss did a lot of good for an old man's ego.

[replicantdeviancy]

rking200  asked: "Do you have any coping mechanisms for dealing with anxiety or fear?" @Connor (I know you said Hank wanted to spill tea but I am. Intrigued in his answer)

______________@rking200 || Spill the Tea ☕| Accepting

Emotions were a difficult topic for the android, even after so many months post-deviancy. While had realized after breaking through the barriers of his programming that they had, in fact, always been there, now he was experiencing the full effect of them, both on his body & mind. If anyone had ever question whether or not an android's synthetic nervous system was similar to that of a human's, one need only ask him. Connor knew that he could become anxious, that intrusive thoughts could erode his capacity for action in some instances, or heighten his defenses in others. He could also speak from past instances from both his & his partner's points of view that the RK unit could become rather nasty when he was stressed. Connor had a smart mouth & a cruel streak in him that didn't often manifest, but when it did peer out from the shadows of his usually warm, charming personality, it was due to anxiety.

Connor acknowledged this, & had tried to do better. Apparently it wasn't intentionally set into his coding, but it had developed naturally. His deviancy was still evolving, but he hoped to overcome that part of himself in time. He hated the way his words could hurt the man he loved.

“Surprisingly… conscious breathing helps.” One couldn't typically rectify such a normally human trait with a synthetic creation, but it was the truth, regardless. “I don't have lungs. It's not a matter of oxygenating my system when I breathe. It's aesthetic-based, & provides secondary cooling.” Not that any of that mattered. He explained further. “I think it's the act itself that's calming - I have been shot in the chest before, & the damage compromised the negative pressure seal, causing me to experience shortness of breath.” Connor recalled that incident well, would have if he didn't have the manufactured gift of perfect recall. It had scared him, feeling unable to breathe. But when he could take a slow, deep breath & be intentional with how he held it, how it centered his thoughts & helped kick in his thirium pump regulator's normal processes to slow his pounding pump, it did more for him than he'd ever considered before deviating.