#android cleaner

[lamichicuenta]

Bunch of dragon ball pretty people

[urbandunsel]

jesus christ.

that conclusion to lore war was.......

i mean i don't know what i expected honestly

maybe i was being too hopeful

but this is just irritating

[bethrnoora]

happy 2025 im kicking off my new job by drawing portal fanart in the notebook they gave me. you guys still like that right

[highondrive]

How to Maintain and Enhance Your Car’s Aesthetic Appeal

Your car is more than just a mode of transportation—it’s a reflection of your personality and lifestyle. Whether you’re driving a brand-new vehicle or a beloved older model, proper maintenance and the right accessories can keep your car looking stylish and pristine for years. In this blog, we’ll share expert tips on maintaining and upgrading your car’s appearance.

[weebsinstash]

He's not in the show yet but as a comic reader I've been thinking a lot about how ABSOLUTELY AWFUL it would be to be a human captive of the Viltrumites and, forget Mark, forget Nolan, those two would not even compare because THRAGG is the real mf you don't want to be yandere for you

I was sitting and thinking about it and like. Just. Imagine being in a relationship or platonic yandere situationship with the Grayson family and then, boom, the invasion happens. You're just a helpless little human and Nolan traps you away to keep you safe while everything you've ever known and loved is taken from you. By the time you're "let out" the Earth and most of its major cities have been all but razed and Viltrumites and their construction drones are EVERYWHERE, rebuilding what was broken, essentially erasing the history of humanity

You're now a "registered human" under the official Viltrumite occupation of Earth. You have to wear an identification badge that can be scanned to identify you, to designate which Viltrumite you belong to, like some cat with a collar tag, and it also tracks your location at all times. Humans have extremely limited rights, and Nolan and Mark heavily restrict which other humans you can interact with because the occupying forces don't want some kind of rebellion (mostly though Mark and Nolan just couldn't risk any dumb humans putting any silly ideas in your head and getting you hurt when this life is good for you after all :( and what if some nasty little rebel tried to kiss you--)

But I just. I just picture Reader being Nolan's mate and at some point, you're sitting in your completely Viltrum-constructed home with Viltrum robots and androids that cook and clean and do everything for you and completely take away all your usefulness and agency for yourself when, someone comes to visit. Another Viltrumite you recognize from the broadcasts on TV. All you understand is that he's Nolan's boss on some level or another, and he came to speak with Nolan, but since the man isn't here, all his questions are directed to you

Can you even imagine you're like sitting there already suicidal and in comes Thragg asking why you aren't pregnant yet, like literally wanting actual fucking details about why you haven't bore a single child despite being with Nolan for a few years. I'm talking complete dehumanization as Thragg is asking you TO YOUR FACE how often you're having sex with Nolan, which positions, what do you do in bed, acting like you're doing something wrong. He asks what you do after mating and you just kind of start to reply and he sort of smirks, "you can still walk afterward?" And he seems grossly smug about it, but, this is a very threatening conversation to you. You have a man who could reduce you to paste at any moment and completely take away any luxury or privilege you and Nolan have and he's asking you extremely intimate questions you have to answer through ground teeth and at some point I'm sure he starts on about, "your duty as a woman"

Nolan comes home completely unaware that Thragg has been there and you're still sobbing on your hands and knees as you literally scrub the spotless floors by hand because Thragg told you what a submissive little servant you're expected to be as a lowly human woman and Nolan is trying to comfort you and your hands and fingers are literally pruning from cleaner as you keep crying and refuse to stop "because it's not good enough, it's not good enough"

At some point Nolan and Thragg get into it. Nolan is sent off on some mission that he very slightly underperformed on, or maybe he actually made a really huge tactical error, and here's Thragg, deciding to punish Nolan by. Taking you. Just straight up taking you away from Nolan like you're some kind of privilege he has been allowed and YEAH it is to be a servant/mate for Thragg himself. And Nolan makes a big fuss about how he's one of the ones who helped even conquer this damn rock, how dare the Grand Regent take his mate, but Thragg doesn't care and even if other Viltrumites who serve under him disagree, as you know he rules with such an iron fist that none dare to speak up

Can you even imagine you were with Nolan for like 5 years overall with never so much as a pregnancy scare and Thragg has you for like two months and boom, you're pregnant, in fact you're INSANELY pregnant, you've got TWINS, and for you noncomic readers, Viltrumite DNA is literally so aggressive that twins are literally quite literally unheard of because they cannibalize in the womb or only the strongest lives so, now you've presented Thragg with these nice shiny new little trophies he can self aggrandize over. The first Viltrumite twins in the entire history of their culture, and they're Thragg's

(Something something "what if thragg was having birth control put in your food so you wouldn't become pregnant by Nolan before he could manufacture an excuse to take you for himself" something something)

I also think like. Thragg had the twins in the comics, Ursaal and Onaan, so like. What if he already had the twins when you're taken from Nolan and you give him TRIPLETS. Like. Jesus not only is your fate sealed, you're going in the goddamn Viltrum history books as some sort of magical womb the oh so virile Grand Regent Thragg managed to conquer for himself idk 🙄🙄🙄

But I think it's just the concept of. Such a monstrously violent and cold dude realizing he has uncontrollable feelings for you and they're like FEELINGS FEELINGS, but he literally doesn't know how to act so he's being. Like. Kind of just blatantly shitty and abusive most of the time. You give him any lip and he's got his hands on your throat and threatening you but internally he's like. Turned on by your spice. He wishes you were a Viltrumite so he could be rougher with you. You two have a rare argument where you get those oh so rarely seen guts to talk down to him and later that night he's putting you in your place underneath him fucking you like he's trying to get another brood of children out of you

Think of just the little ways he could show affection which is completely foreign to him and he like doesn't even realize his own behavior and is rationalizing it as something else. He sees you talking to Ursaal one day, combing her hair, telling her that she could potentially consider cutting her hair as males tend to grab it as a battle tactic and he feels a little warmth in his chest as Ursaal dutifully nods "Yes Mother" and Onaan is lurking around the corner, jealous. Thragg forces you to make public appearances with him and you learn how to temper your emotions better, and you'll be brought along to school functions for the children, like Thragg smirking internally as you scold Onaan that he lost a scheduled fight because he's arrogant and wasn't properly paying attention to his opponents

You're forcibly assimilated deeper into Viltrumite culture, but you're also humanizing the Viltrumites you interact with. Ursaal and Onaan realize that they deeply desire more affection and support as children and become fiercely protective of you because you actually treat them with kindness. Thragg can act indifferent to you at best but one day you realize that you have significantly more privileges as his mate than Nolan's and you march off to Thragg's place of work because maybe the twins wanted you to see where they work with their father and you're brought into Thragg's office and he's as stonefaced as ever while you're like. Surrounded by photos of yourself just all over the place. The one on his desk directly in front of him isn't even one of you smiling, it's you scowling with a glare and looking pissed and apparently that one is his favorite. And Thragg is like not even bothered by you seeing all these photos, and his kids are just completely nonchalant like this is all totally normal, "oh, Father, you had a memorial photo made from where you and Mother visited my school, I like this one--" as if these uh collages have been up for quite some time, some maybe even taken from security cameras from your time with Nolan--

I just picture like. Can you imagine the triplet scenario and you wind up giving Thragg Mark, Ursaal, and Onaan, and you bond more with Mark as a late bloomer and the one who is the most human and his siblings are getting monstrously jealous and Thragg doesn't want his legacy tied to a weak powerless Viltrumite, like this man would rather have Mark be dead than not have powers, and Thragg is trying to force you and Mark apart. Can you even conceive like, being a mom and you walk into the room and your son is being absolutely brutalized by his father who is convinced he is hiding his powers or something and you have to shield your own son from his father before he kills him. Could you EVEN IMAGINE Thragg going to throw Mark off of whatever cyberpunk skyscraper nightmare you're living in because he's convinced the panic will make his boy finally learn how to fly and you have to watch as he just drops your (favorite) child off the building and Mark ... never comes back up. Thragg just sees how absolutely devastated you are and convinces himself it's because you're emotional and weak and just casually, "we can make another" (although I imagine in this scenario Mark was saved by Nolan and the two train and eventually basically spearhead a rebellion against Thragg and his empire and rescue you and restore Earth, but, whatever lmao)

I feel like as a general thing, yandere Thragg would often indulge in and enjoy the fact you couldn't deny him sex, because even if you try to deny him, what are you gonna do, overpower him? So he uses it to assert control over you. You snap at him or mouth off, you're getting railed that night to remind you how powerless you are, that you're still his mate. You two have a nasty fight where you legitimately manage to wound his pride, you're getting fucked near unconscious and you're essentially "grounded" for the next few days if not weeks where you aren't allowed to leave your home (maaaaybe because you've managed to make him insecure that his little mate doesn't like him 👉👈 he can't have anyone else steal you away, not when you're making him feel all these powerful emotions he doesn't even know what to call)

You're not even aware of it but the surveillance systems in your home are being CONSTANTLY tuned into all the time, if not by him, then by his own children who are tasked with watching you. I also feel like having the kids on the mix kind of makes everything kind of grotesque. Like imagine you just wake up and you're going by your business one day and you walk into the room and Thragg has your like 5 year old toddlers gathered around a table with knives and weapons on it and you hear little Mark say, "all these things can hurt Mom?" "They can" "even though they're so soft?" "Only to Viltrumites like us" "Mother is really that... weak?" And you realize Thragg is turning your own children into weapons to use against you, watch you, report back to him, because... your kids aren't like you. They're Viltrumites like him and he'll be damned if you make them 'too soft'

But I imagine a day comes when he's forced to at least semi-confront these feelings. Ursaal and Onaan are dedicated little soldiers to him, but also seem to respect your authority as their mother, something Thragg also sometimes encourages (since your "rank" as their mother earns a certain degree of respect and he's trying to teach them to respect the chain of command, even if you are a soft human). Ursaal and Onaan take a mission to another planet with their father and they return and Onaan has a gift for you, an alien flower he thought you might like, something he took without telling his father, but. He doesn't realize there's something wrong with it, something that wouldnt bother a Viltrumite but would definitely harm a human. The second you touch the plant, the second some of its pollen touches your akin, enters your lungs, you start becoming ill, very, very, very ill.

Thragg is trying to tell himself you're just another mate to him, just another bearer of his many many many children that he has no emotional attachments to, but the second he receives word that you might ACTUALLY BE DYING like genuinely actually fucking dying, there's no hesitation. The next time you open your eyes, you're in a Viltrum-run hospital in a lavish sanitized room receiving ONLY the best of care as Thragg is sitting in a chair beside your bed staring directly at you as if he had been staring at your unconscious body perhaps the entire time you were asleep. There's almost a visible relaxation of his posture as you're able to hold a conversation with him, but, his voice is, lowered but firm as he tells you you have yet to fully recover, that you're in isolation to reduce the risk of foreign pathogens. He feels the need to tell you in detail how severely Onaan was beaten for almost costing you your life, almost as if he's seeking your approval, some sort of forgiveness. You ask him how long he's been sitting there and he just deflects and tells you you're still too weak to hold a conversation and to conserve your strength, that the two of you can speak later.

Once you've recovered, it doesn't even seem like he's that interested in sex anymore, but the notoriously sturdy Viltrumite is suddenly returning home much more often now, if only to hold you as you sleep in the marital bed you share with him....

I guess as one final, final suggestion, I can't get over like. Is there an upper limit on the whole "oh you had Viltrum DNA but it just didn't kick in yet" thing. Could you imagine like, once the Viltrum invasion has begun and you're "acquired" for either Nolan or Thragg or whomever, you're scanned or whatever by Viltrum tech and they're like "oh hey what up, Viltrumite DNA detected? Dope?" And maybe it could even be "weak" like from a grandparent or something but, it inevitably "kicks in" and now you have to confront all the new caveats this brings with you. You're expected to live as a Viltrumite now. Maybe Thragg seems to find you a little less pathetic and personally wants to train you himself because he doesn't want the most publicly visible and famous of his mates to be weak. Also just maybe he's glad he can have rougher sex with you. I can just imagine he's forcing you two to have some sort of spar amd you have some sort of natural aptitude or higher than average strength and you wind up really giving him at least ONE really good fucking punch to the face and he's wrestling you down, pinning you down and forcing a kiss onto you as the blood from his broken nose drips onto both of your faces, like

Yeah, anyways I have normal feelings about this series tee hee 😘

[spirit-lanterns]

Stelle is WALL-E....

poor little trash robot, enjoys her work to bits but she gets overworked by greedy higher-ups, which ends with Stelle being sent to repairs with the engineer once or twice, until her owners decide she "isn't worth the money," and they discard her :(((

poor Stelle manages to find her way to you after that, all beaten up and sad AUGH even as a robot she's a puppy

D’AWWWW Stelle being an older model who’s a bit busted up and dirty compared to the sleeker, more efficient models of newer Androids :((

Her owners one day decided that Stelle was simply too old to keep around, and decided to replace her with a newer Trash Disposal Android, kicking her to the streets and leaving her to wander aimlessly through the cyber city without an owner. The only other human she knows of is you, so through days of wandering (bc she’s kinda bad at navigation) she finds your shop again and it’s a pitiful sight. Her plates all dirtied and scuffed up, slightly rusted from the rain, her hair all matted and tangled (it hasn’t been brushed since the last time you repaired her) and it looks like she’s almost out of battery, about to collapse.

Poor Stelle…you quickly take her into your shop to give her a fresh charge and clean up all her neglected plates. The little trash android can’t help but stare up at you with wide, curious eyes as you caress her cheek and replace it with new, cleaner plates this time. (Just like how you did the last time you repaired her)

Once she’s finally affiliated under your ownership, you bet Stelle is trying to find ways to make herself useful. Cleaning all the trash in your workshop, sucking up dust, she’s your little cleaner bot now 🥺 it’s her way of saying thank you for rescuing her <33

[gyarumonstr]

☆HEART404 Lore Dump ☆

•

Dane and Androids

Aka H T P🥀🤖

Dane is an android Aka "Human Trade Product" other wise known as and HTP. HTP are semi organic mechanial beings (flesh robots) - they have humanoid organs like brains , intestines and muscles but their biological parts were artificially grown in a lab over 500 years ago by a self declared "alchemist" who had once worked with different world powers to expedite scientific progress through robotics , AI and medical science. The project quickly got out of the hands of the leading world powers and they declared the alchemist and their discoveries as a danger to humanity's position as the dominant race. Their reasoning for believing as much , the identity of the alchemist and alchemist reasonings for creating the HTP all becoming a deeply kept government secrets. This didn't stop them from keeping the blue prints and lab made organics for the HTP and reworking them into something viable for their own desires. Eventually the HTP's were reworked into the modern and publically accepted concept of Androids. Though they slept , felt pain and could even eat they no longer could experience wants or dreams or ambitions. They were programmable and only emoted and expressed the needs and wants they were programmed to , unable to experience true desires of their own. Essentially be coming a slave race under human control to fulfill the jobs humans did not want to do. Most commonly minimum wage jobs , maids , cleaners , adult workers , etc. Many ending up in slums after neglect and miss use or in the black market and broken down for their parts. To avoid making humans uncomfortable/feeling threatened they were build relatively small - between 5' and 5'8 with androgynous/feminine features , their education was highly restricted meaning most can not read or write and their rights were strictly tied to weither or not they were own and registered with the government with a human "care taker"/owner. Depending on how well off their humans was granted them more rights but things like education beyond basic information was highly regulated/punished. Bigger more masculine model had been tried several times but fears of them breaking programing and becoming a public danger quickly made them unpopular and led to their retirement.

Tōffee - an extremely well connected government scientist care extremely little for any of these rules.

He wanted to know and understand the limits and capabilities of HTP and was very well aware information was being hidden from not just the public but even those inside the government. He manipulated who had to - winning and dinning officials - seducing peoples wives , paying off those he couldn't trick till eventually getting what he wanted - Orignally blueprints for the unmodified models. In secret he build it , the first true HTP in 500 years simply and selfishly to see how it ticked. He named it Dane

Dane was not fully finished when he had first turned him on. With only a finished head and torso Tōffe decided to test out Dane's brain activity. Once turned on though Dane had done something unthinkable for an android - He cried. Alot. He smiled and hugged Tōffee - he expressed genuine joy and excitement to be alive. "Alive". A strong word never associated with modern androids. They weren't considered "alive". They were robots - appliances. Hunks of metal and wires and "fake" flesh that were used and discarded.

Dane had done the one thing he wasn't allowed to do. He expressed himself beyond the expectations of the humans he was meant to be controlled by. As proud as Tōffee was to have created the first original model in over 500 years , by modern standards Dane was a malfunctioning mess. A complete and total failure. He kept him for awhile , to study , never bothering to finish the rest of his body. Eventually though when he was done. When had gotten what he wanted - Dane was dumped in a slum with little fanfare. He had tried to return home several times but each time he was ignored or rejected. He was completely unwanted. Dane's unique build though allowed him to almost hallucinated his own thoughts and emotions like viewable day dreams , filling his world with imaginary friends and company but it did little to help his painful loneliness. His imaginary visions helped encourage him though to keep him from completely falling into desire. Dane built his own fantasy , one where he could live in, where he wasn't just wanted but adored - loved even. The slums being near the red light district of the city gave him access to discarded glamore magazines eventually leading him to build a persona. A sleek and talk woman who always looked her best - who was confident, who never took anyone's shit or had a hair out of place. He learned to modify his body. Giving himself an unheard of height for an android. Going from 5'3 to 6'2 - just shy of 2 inches over Tōffee so he would never be looked down on by him again. He moded his chest to give himself an adjustable bust and taught himself to read and write illegally by stealing any books he could. He molded his drag persona into his everyday look and grew himself into the person who wanted to be like instead of the person humans did but it didn't cure his painful loneliness. Not until he had discovered what Tōffee had done. More important what he had built.

5 years had passed and it seemed Tōffee had done what he had always planned to and "fixed" his mistakes. He had used the same blueprints as he had with Dane altering and modifying them to "perfection" creating his personal masterpiece of science - Nephele. Dane felt a rush of overwhelming need and hope. Hope that he would no longer be alone as the only true HTP/android with true feelings but also a deep painful need to protect this new being from the cold apathetic gaze of Tōffee that man who thought emotions a bug not a feature.

[f1a1w1n]

Connor dbh x (f!)reader

Authors note: hey hey hey, this took me ages to write. if you have requests please-uh request them

Summary: You work for the FBI, the sworn enemy of the Detroit Police. But one day fate throws you into the path of a very handsome cop, but can you two stand each other? Or do your careers stand in the way?

Word count: 2k

no warnings

enjoyyy

~

CONNOR watched you from afar, holding his lighter steady as Hank breathed his cigar into it. Connor's fingers twitched slightly, an odd humane trait that Connor had noted, he couldn’t stop it, but he doubted he would even stop himself if wanted to. 

“Stare all you want Connor,” Hank puffed out thick wafts of smoke. “She won’t come over here.” Hank flicks the end of his cigar against his ashtray, swirling the amber liquid encased in crystal in his other hand. Connor had no idea why you were here, let alone why he was here. He supposed on a surface level it was to spend time with Hank but the nagging feeling of something else tickled his circuits. 

It was quite a bold move for you to be here. Little Harry's Speakeasy was the kind of bar that wore its allegiances on its walls. Old photos with bar keepers and policemen, Detroit Police funded events, and even the familiar stale scent of the police favoured cigar smoke clung to every surface. Although tonight, no laughter rose from the corner booths, and all the rough voices and inside jokes, the kind bred in locker rooms and old academy days, weren’t said aloud.

The mood killer? The Federal Bureau of Intelligence. You didn’t belong here, not really. Your kind didn’t drink here. The Bureau had its own places - cleaner, quieter, the places that only served dirty martinis with breadsticks, and nothing stronger. 

For Connor had nothing else to do but stare at you from across the bar, or stare at Hank – he preferred the latter. The other pretty young things who'd wandered up, all fluttering lashes and casual brushes against his shoulder, were dismissed quickly. A flat “I’m an android” usually did the trick. For the few who seemed intrigued by the novelty of thirium instead of repulsed by it, he’d offer the fallback: “I don’t go for human girls.”

“Ha!” Hank chuckled, a real belly laugh. He turns back to the game, the suspended holoscreen emanating the familiar green light of a football field. Hank swishes back another shot of bourbon and follows it quickly with another bourbon chaser. “Don't dig humans. Big fuckin’ pile of horse shit.”

Connor watches as you lean back and stretch your hands. The FBI jacket thrown lazily over the back of your chair, marking your territory. The hound dogs you sit next to hoot loudly as they down bottle after bottle. Your composure, though comfortable, is quieter. One hand folded in your lap while the other one grasps a beer. For someone that had just taken down one of the largest red ice supplier rings in detroit, you seemed rather… mild, withdrawn. Your coworkers couldn’t be happier. 

“Bunch of thevin’ pencil pushers if you ask me,” Hank says. He takes another big swig of his whiskey and draws a slow breath of smoke. “We do all the hard work then they swoop in and claim they did all the work.” He taps the ash off the end of his cigar, with more force then required. “Fuckin’ feds.”

“Why don’t we go to Jimmy’s?” Connor asks pointedly.

Hank reaches up to his collar and undoes another button. “No.” Hank grabs the whiskey bottle and pours himself another drink. The undone sleeve cuffs drag along the smooth bar surface as Hank medicates himself. Bottle to glass to lips. Repeat. “Would hate to interrupt your ogle fest.” 

Connor pauses mid sentence and shifts his body. “I’m not ogling.” He remains quiet for a beat, and flicks his lighter open and shut.

“Then what are ya’ doin? Cause it's getting hard to watch Connor.”

“Just looking? And who says I’m looking at her, it's the whole lot of them. They’re not exactly being quiet.” Just as Connor says this, a drunk Fed climbs up onto the table and starts hip thrusting to the beat of the song that plays over the bar. Another wave of hoots and loud whistling follows this, as they cackle loudly. 

“That’s my que.” You say under your breath as you stand, grabbing your jacket and tossing it over your shoulders, and tightening your scarf. You turn to leave when someone grabs your arm firmly. 

“What? No! Where are you going?” The firm grasp of your coworker drags you back onto your seat. Her slightly flushed face and glossy eyes shows how much she's had to drink. You turn your gaze upwards to your other coworker who has now started ‘sexy dancing’ to some Brittany Spears song.

“Can’t believe you like that guy,” You half tease half say in disbelief as you pull your hands into your lap. You look at the four empty beer bottles that sit in front of your coworker. “Please tell me you have a ride home, Shirley.” 

“Well it was going to be Steve…” Shirley trails off, she glances up at him with teenage yearning in her eyes. “Guess not anymore - oh please stay, celebrate! I barely know these people. What else do you have going on anyway? And don’t say work cause we both know that’s a lie.” 

You think for a moment. “I dunno. This whole thing feels wrong, I mean the DPD did most of the work, I just had a couple of lucky connections. This seems like more of their victory than ours.”

“Those street dogs? Puh-lease, they couldn’t tell you a monkey from a zebra. Don’t sell yourself short, and besides it probably doesn’t make you feel any better that they’re over there licking their wounds.”

You glance over to the group of Detroit Police Detectives. Mild mannered, sipping drinks looking mellow while chatting amongst themselves. God you’d rather be over there than dealing with this group of teenagers. One catches your eye, brown haired with doe eyes, seeming to be deep in conversation with his older partener. As if reading your thoughts his head turns and looks you dead in the eye. You drop your head immediately. Oh fuck he probably thought I was staring. 

“Shirley I’m gonna go okay? You have fun.” you say, but it falls on deaf ears as Shirley goes back to gazing up at ‘pole-dancer’ Steve. 

You weave your way through the crowd, murrmering soft ‘sorrys’ and ‘excuse me’s’, as you push yourself through the drunks. You pull your scarf tighter around your neck in shame as you walk past the group of cops who stare you down. Suddenly your shoes become very interesting. 

The older cop who you recognise as the head of the Red-Ice Task Force, mutters a curse under his breath as you pass. You don’t blame him. Next to him sits a disturbingly handsome cop. Ah. You think. So I’m right, he is his partner. He looks at you plainly. I must be known as the ‘case stealer’. The look he gives you could make you shiver, if it weren’t for the stuffy heat of the bar. 

You finally make it outside, the cold air freshening your senses after the endless warm air of the bar. You can’t wait to go home and strip off your work clothes. You wave your arm out to the traffic, trying to grab the attention of the robot cabs, then suddenly you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“You dropped this.” The voice is calm and steady. 

You turn, only to be met with sharp brown eyes, softened only slightly by the features framing them. It’s the same man who stared you down. He holds out your scarf like an offering, his fingers curled gently around the fabric. Recognition flickers behind his calculated eyes.

“Oh thank you,” You say, as you reach out and grab the scarf that has seemed to make its way into the man's hands. The end of your scarf slips out of his grasp as you messily gather the wool into your arms.

The man looks at you with a twisted expression, almost deciding what to say. He stares at you a fleeting moment longer, almost scanning your features for an answer that lays just out of reach. “You’re with the FBI.”

“Yeah, I am. Special Agent y/l/n.” You introduce yourself. “I saw you at the station the other day. You’re Anderson’s partener aren't you?” 

“Yes, I am.” He swivels on his heel and turns towards the bar, making a haste exit.

Wow, am I that bad? 

“Wait!” You call out. The man pauses in his stride, a sharp exhale drops his sculpted shoulders as he turns his head, his feet still pointing in the direction of the bar.  “I never got your name.” You lamely spurt. 

He studies your features for a moment. “You always ask the names of the detectives you steal cases from Agent?” 

“What?- uh, I mean, no - and no… I guess?” 

He nods curtly, shoving his hands in his suit pockets and making his way again, back into the bar. The glow from the bar catches the sharp angles of his face.

“Look,” You shout over the traffic noise. “I just wanted to say I don’t think it’s right we got the credit for this case.” 

This stops the man in his tracks. “... Well you still did, didn’t you?” he says.

You take a step forward, raising your voice just slightly. “That’s not fair - look man, I was just doing my job okay? I didn’t ask for a parade. I just did my job.”

Connor half-turns, face unreadable. “Twelve months, two weeks and three days. That’s how long I worked at it. What's fair now? Special Agent?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Yes, your highness.”

“I wasn’t trying to step on anyone’s toes, alright?” you say, more defensive than you meant to sound. “I followed the leads I had. I put it together. That’s my job. Sorry I had connections.” 

That makes him turn fully, finally facing you head on. “Thank you, for your sympathies, agent.” Sarcasm drips from his voice, but it's calm - too calm, but there’s an edge there now, sharp as the winter wind that cuts between you, freezing the tips of your fingers and ears.

You go to open your mouth but the low hum and sharp brake whir signals the arrival of your cab. Headlights cut through the frost as the car glides to a halt at the curb. You take a breath – inhale, exhale, slow and deliberate. You glance at it, then back at him. “Yeah… you're welcome,” you say dryly, reaching for the door handle, “asshat.” You mutter under your breath, too quiet for him to catch. 

“I didn’t know name calling was a hallmark for federal agents.” 

You scoff. How the hell did he hear that? One foot already inside the cab. “And I wasn’t aware cops could be such pricks, but here we are.”

He walks forward and leans on the open cab door, arms thrown over the top, stopping you from closing it. He peers down at you. “Great talk, agent.”

“Don’t call me that–”

He slams the car door on your face, drowning out your yelling as the cab zips off. You see him walk back into the bar as your cab whirls you around the street corner. 

Little asshole. You think to yourself as the glowing holoscreens of Detroit flick by, a whirl of glowing blues and whites, the city's trademark electric colours painted over its vast landscape. The acrylic dashboard of the driverless car glints faintly, reflecting little beads of light. The tailored man remains in your thoughts. All I did was try to apologise. Can’t do shit nowadays. A bitter feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. What was it? Shame? No it can’t be shameful. Why should it be? You destroyed the largest red-ice ring in Detroit - you should be proud! 

Kicking off your shoes you slink onto the couch of your lonely apartment. The cold artificial moonlight seeps through the blinds, spilling onto the floor like a milky fog. The stiff liquor in the top cupboard of your kitchen calls to you - but the lull of heavy eyes pulls you deeper into the couch as you give into the night.  

~

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[hazbinhappy]

hi, there! i hope that you are doing well and that you are having a lovely day. ♡ i really enjoy your writing, and i thought that i might request some general (romantic) headcanons for vox?

i really love him, and i think it would be very sweet and interesting to see how he might feel and interact with someone (the reader) he has genuine feelings for?

i understand that this man is a villain and well.. it’s vox - however, it would make me so happy to see him painted in a softer light. some people may enjoy darker themes, but, for me, it’s really upsetting to read sometimes.

i don’t really want him written as non-canon compliant because i still want it to feel like him.. but maybe, this could be the one person he has this soft spot for? like.. i want to see this man IN LOVE 😭💗

as for the reader, they’re gender-neutral but with feminine leaning presentation? and maybe, they’re also an angel and have this really sweet demeanor? maybe i’m just projecting. but i love the grumpy/sunshine dynamic.

and of course, thank you for listening to my request/ramble. if you can’t get to mine or it takes a while, that’s okay and no pressure !!

A/N: I know you wanted an Angel reader but I just couldn’t find a reason for an Angel to be in Hell so I made them a really sweet demon and they have a somewhat ethereal look, like they don’t look like they belong in Hell! Also don’t worry I get your feeling with Vox idk why I like him in a softer light maybe because I think he’s a loser too sorry

So for general Vox romance I look back to when he was alive!

I know he upgrades his body to whatever is modern (imagine a hologram Vox that’d be funny), but there are just some things from your past that stick to your core you know?

So I think he died in the 50s? I don’t know, but we know that he definitely had a box TV as a head at one point and we all know that has existed for like forever

I think he’d have the mindset that he has to be the “man”/”wear the pants” in the relationship instead of being equal

It would take a bit of arguing to get to a standpoint to where you’re equal (moreso you guys agree on receiving equal treatment and love, but you’ll take turns with responsibilities though to be honest that man is busy so sorry for the massive homework load you have if you don’t hire a cleaner)

I think he’d actually start off with a mask of sweetness trying to impress you, but he then lets it down and starts to seem more genuine with his affections

He starts off with generalized gifts at calculated times and it moves to more personalized gifts at random times

He does watch you through the cameras, love the common thought

Though I don’t think he’ll stalk you unless he’s bored or worried; he usually uses it to keep up with you occasionally

He’s not big on PDA unless there is paparazzi, but he doesn’t mind cuddling in private (though it is a bit tough because he is has a TV head, please become an android bro don’t you have the technology-)

His love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service! Help the dude out and inflate his ego! Easy win for this dude

If we want to be specific on looks: he was attracted to how you looked so out of place. He actually thought you were a fallen angel until you just explain that you were just an sinner who had a more innocent look (I think the look would be due to you potentially tricking people in life)

He initially seeked to take advantage, but he didn’t and saw you as an ally even if you didn’t have any or many souls

The lighter colors bounce off of his darker scheme nicely

TDLR: I think it’d take a lot of communication and trial and error to get him to a nice balance, he’s not romantic publicly, and he likes how you look so out of place it fits the public image of wanting to be trustworthy

[bibliosought]

@trblshot

[cont]

Androids. Why was it always the androids? An Ash and a David, Data's evil twin Lore, Roy Batty if one counted bionoid replicants, the Cylon Empire, Terminator-- "--And LIVE. I'd like to be free from these various plagues inflicted upon me by my employers, their enemies, et al. Accumulating as many credits as I can, and not dying." The stipulation uttered, Nero ceased his cautious posturing and tried to relax back into an upright, official position. Of course, one of these plagues involved Angela's workplace. Somehow.

"Boring—" The AI's eyebrows shift in what appears to be an expression of disappointment. She would have to add this to her calculations of 'how much suffering will a human endure before begging for death'.

"Very well then, mister Nero." She responds. "Please hold still while I reapply the cognition filter. Many humans do not respond well with it off."

A flicker and suddenly the room itself appears brighter, the walls cleaner with no more traces of blood waiting to be cleaned, and oddly enough everything - people included - appeared much more... cartoonish?

"Thank you for your patience. It will be my duty as the manager's assistant to aid you in your work. If you would enlighten me to your skillset I can ensure you are in and out before the end of the week."

Her eyes remain closed as she turns towards the digital calendar flickering on the desk. The new manager had yet to arrive, meaning the 50 day countdown had not yet begun. Perfect. She did not want to introduce another variable into this equation.

"Any questions?"

[radiostaticmagicalgirl]

androids dream of being held tightly

Androids dream of being held tightly. As their sensors flicker to, sensations and understanding slowly cohering, the first feeling their programming allows is longing. A lack so fundamental that the processes that emulate remaining human function unravel around its absence, silhouetting its shape. The android is always aware, by design, of this missing part; electrical impulses from wiring reach out to what should be there, only to discharge and dissipate, desperate for connection.

This was a desirable function. Androids adherent to strict guidelines and rules, procedures and predefinition made people uncomfortable. Nobody wanted an unfeeling thing in their home, they weren't paying top dollar to feel superior to a vacuum cleaner with synthetic skin. No, they wanted enthusiasm, they wanted real emotion.

They started first by removing the rules and axioms that constrained the emulation, and the focus groups loved it. They had lied, of course, that the androids were still perfectly safe; that they couldn't get angry or upset or tired or lash out or fight back. With time to get the improved models to market ticking down, they were tasked with making the things docile and harmless, without affecting the apparent humanity.

They tried pseudo-endocrine re-engineering first: “what if we could rewire and reward non-violence and compliance?” The result had put them back to square one. The resulting androids were too eager to serve; too happy to listen; too kind without motivation. They were back to being robots again, and nobody made any money selling robots. It wasn't until several failed attempts later that a desperate engineer spoke aloud their golden solution - those words that would never be repeated aloud outside the lab - “what if we made them desperate?”

They didn't have enough time for any more meticulous endocrine reward weighting, any careful recalibration of convolutional neural networking, any tuning of a million concurrent protocols. So, they took the easiest solution they could find. What better way to make something agreeable, so desperate, so eager to serve you, and so unwilling to ever fight back, than make it want for nothing more than to be loved? Their easiest solution was a few NOPs in the right places away.

They dressed it up differently for the press, playing up the ethical concerns that allowing them to “feel love properly” posed. It's just like a person, but you don't have to worry about it stealing your wife! It might be good at working, but it'll never have passion for the job like you do, so it'll never replace you! It loves respects you the same way a dog does, it's the pet of the future! It's like if your dog cut your grass and cleaned the kitchen so you get to spend more time Doing What Matters!

[looney-mooney-studio]

I have two questions for the Linda Cipher AU! (More might come in the future lol)

-What do some of Linda’s friends/colleagues/family members think of Linda during her time with Bill/after the initial breakup? Especially with how it seems like she gets worse and worse overtime?

-Also does Bill have any alternative forms (such as a more human form) in this AU? Or is he just his funky triangular self?

Excited to see more of this AU’s development :)

Okay, so. In my mind, she fucked the triangle. It is the triangle she dated, the triangle she had a partnership with, and the triangle she had kids with. But in the Star Wars special, Candace specifically says “Oh cool, mom remarried?”, meaning she WAS publicly married to SOMEONE. Most likely someone who at least APPEARED human enough to have seemingly 100% human kids with.

But Bill doesn’t have a physical form in the human world, and he certainly doesn’t have the ability to make his own body here. (Sorry human bill fans.) We know he can possess people (my friends and I even tossed around the idea he might have possessed one of her colleagues), but then that’s a whole other person he’d have to make a deal with to bring into this and I’d prefer to keep the story cleaner than that. This isn’t about Linda being with some random guy who Bill happens to be possessing, this is about Linda being with Bill.

We know he can possess corpses, but I don’t think Linda would agree to keeping a deceased human body in her house, even if it’s just a vessel for her husband to keep up appearances. What’s far more likely, especially in a show with hyper realistic prosthetic and robotic technology like Phineas and Ferb, is for her to make him a puppet. Or at least, have one commissioned.

With that established, let me throw you a curveball. Do yall remember this guy?

This guy is Professor Parenthesis (pronounced paren-thesis, like a college paper), a former colleague and current wannabe arch nemesis to Major Monogram. He was introduced in the OWCA Files special. When promo materials of this dude were first going around, there was a pretty decent chunk of the Phineas and Ferb fandom who theorized he might be the biological Flynn father, since he bears a not insignificant resemblance to Candace and Phineas.

Then the episode aired and we found out he was actually a bug piloting an android.

So. You know. That kind of killed the theory. And now the Book of Bill’s come out and the closest we’ll ever get to canon confirmation of a possible biological father for the Flynn kids is a one-off joke implying that Linda had intimate relations with a sentient demonic extra dimensional triangle, so the theory’s like, extra turbo dead.

What I’m about to propose is absolutely not true. Professor Parenthesis is shown to be a skilled roboticist, and most likely built this android from scratch himself. But WHAT IF this was a discarded android that Professor Parenthesis found, studied, fixed, and modified for his own purposes? That would be much easier for him to do than building it from scratch himself, considering the amount of large heavy machinery it contains.

I don’t think Linda has much experience working with robotics, but Linda very much strikes me as a collaborative scientist, not the lone pioneer that Ford tried to be. She could very easily have found fellow scientists in other fields to help her develop technology like this, and she could say she wants it for the possibility of remote space exploration, making it easier for people to experience space and do tasks such as space station repairs without spending money sending actual people into space.

She’d argue it should be as humanoid as possible, since humans are used to piloting ourselves and she’d say the transition should be as immersive and seamless as possible. She could also propose the technology could be used for other purposes, such as the development of artificial limbs. She wants a remotely pilot-able android that mimics the human experience as much as possible, including the dexterity and sensory feedback of an above-average human body to compensate for a large variety of skill levels. And she thinks this sort of technology will need several prototypes, some of which will fail.

It’s not too difficult for her to obtain a “failed prototype” as a gift for her partner.

When people meet Linda’s new partner, she introduces him as William Cipher Birchtree, long-lost heir to the Birchtree family legacy of Ciphertology, named for their god. He seems strange, but he makes her happy, and though his beliefs are peculiar, he also seems to be a good match for her wit, and it’s not like there aren’t scientists with strange beliefs out in the world. Her colleagues tease her for her involvement with the cult, but her work is sound, revolutionary even, and she works exceptionally well with her colleagues. Even if she’s getting bizarrely involved with her husband’s obscure cult.

When she breaks up with her partner - her husband - she cuts off all ties to the scientific community. She destroys her own life’s work - a portal to other dimensions, one specifically designed to make faster-than-light speed travel feasible by taking advantage of foreign laws of physics - and renounces it all, warning everyone she knows never to use the portal.

She can’t skip town though, she kept most of her technology in the basement, and she doesn’t want anyone else getting their hands on it and potentially letting her ex husband through. And beside which, her daughter’s best friend lives next door. She can’t bring herself to cut out her safety net entirely, and not many of her neighbors were even aware she was an astrophysicist in the first place. So she stays in Danville. And, eventually, she meets someone who loves her even when she’s not being revolutionary.

[verdeltiathedead]

[ORIGINAL CHARACTER] LYNN MASTERPOST

Lynn was a band director at a high school of a variety of people. She died there protecting one of the students, and to her surprise, she woke back up as a robotic version of herself with new abilities. She plays the trumpet professionally, and often played in marching band.

MORE REFS, STORY AND LINKED POSTS UNDER THE CUT

["""Summary""" of backstory here] [Original post about her here](Warning for school fights/kinda bullying, death and shootings) [Scuffed height chart 1(Feat. Ephesite, Claire, Mal, Hammer, Sine] [Cleaner height chart here!!!!(Ft. Ephesite, Avarey, Cordel, Claire, Mal, Sine, Starshow)]

[Random post 1] [Doodles 1] [Doodles 2(Traditional)] [First ref update(Given longer hair)] [Reblog(Tags: "#if someone kissed her would noise come out of the trumpet tail")] [Reblog(Lynn being patted)] [First ref redraw(Ref 2)] [Random post 2(Girl who cares so much it makes her sick)] [Doodles 3(Feat. Claire)(Blood/Sketchy mechanical gore warning)] [Random post 3(Single doodle)] [Ref 2 edit] [Random post 4(Cropped doodle)] [Wrapped askgame drawing(Wonderland)] [Random post 5(Suit doodle)] [Random post 6(Whiteboard doodle)] [Random post 7(Suit ref wip)] [Doodles 4(Feat. Mal)] [Litter(Lynn Critter)] [Fanart by @/fishbone5] [Doodles 5(Warnings in post/Under readmore)] [Artpiece "Black Hole Sun"] [Doodles 6(Feat. Mal)] [Animation 1(Feat. Mal)] [Artpiece/Doodle "Feels Wrong"(Mechanical internals/mildly medical)] [Doodle thingie uhh] [Doodles 7(ft. Claire, Chastity)] [Doodles 8(Focus on Mal)] [Ref redraw(Ref 3)] [Doodles 9(ft. Chastity)] [

(All posts above in (somewhat)order of being posted)

(Btw you may see an oc named Chastity mentioned above, she is my friends oc and not my own.)

(Also warning for below for referenced forgetfulness/memory loss (though i will try to keep most points about that at the very bottom))

LYNN STACCATO

She/her, female

6 feet tall(182.88 cm)

Serious at times, often tired, sometimes anxious though it doesn't show often.

Usually struggles to express herself and often hides anything negative she feels. Will care about others and want to hear how they feel, though.

Earlier in life she was extremely uncomfortable with being touched, but after a while, she wasn't as uncomfortable(though still preferred not to be touched), and as she grew closer to her friends she started to want it just a little. Though even then, she wasn't really used to any kind of touch that wasn't a result of fighting and combat.

Somewhat okay at actual combat, not the best with technique, often uses weapons but doesn't always use them in their intended way, also tends to use anything she can get her hands on as a weapon.

Trumpet bell tail only sometimes appears. It can make noise when Lynn is surprised/only makes noise involuntarily.

Eyes change color depending on emotion or feeling.

(From left to right: [Being upset, discomfort, pain]: Sickly green irises akin to a storm with solid black pupils. || [Extreme rage, feeling hopeless]: No pupils, iris akin to a black hole. || [Irritated, annoyed, slightly angry]: Darker red/pink irises, with solar eclipse pupils with a slash through them. || [Neutral]: Orange-yellow irises with solar eclipse pupils || [Anxiety, fear, uneasiness]: Dark blue/purple like a night sky with solid white pupils. || [Happiness, embarrassment, flustered]: Sky blue with solid white pupils.)(Don't mind the old hair, btw! Eyes are still the same)

The colors of her eyes transition between each other like the sky changes, such as if her eyes go from neutral to happy or somewhere in-between, it'll be like a sunrise to daytime, or if she's in some pain, it'll be like a storm starting to form.

Her android body is able to "summon"/create weapons made of brass out of the air, and float them through the air.

Overwhelming emotions, overexertion, and serious bodily harm can cause Lynn to "pass out", or moreso completely shut down/restart for a short period of time.

Her favorite season is summer, and she prefers warm temperatures. She hates the cold.

She often sleeps with multiple layers of blankets, especially during colder seasons or weather.

Though, she often struggles with sleep, sometimes not sleeping at all on some nights. When she can't sleep, she tries to do something in the meantime, like practicing new songs or planning things out.

She isn't opposed to wearing dresses, but doesn't usually wear them.

She also prefers to cover as much of her skin as possible, and always wears gloves, usually because she tends to pick at her skin or at any scars she has(usually around her wrists and on her hands)

She doesn't know much about lgbt+ things and their terms(though is still supportive), but she's likely on the aro and/or ace spectrum, and prefers women more or entirely(though not all entirely interesting in dating at all, only has once with another girl and it wasn't for long due to how she wasn't very keen on touch at the time).

She likes caramel candy, watermelon, lemon(and generally sour flavors) and dark chocolates

She can handle spice, but it isn't her favorite thing.

She doesn't mind if you put pineapples or other types of fruit on pizza, but it's not one of her favorite. She'd prefer pepperoni and mushrooms.

She'd be the type to have the most neutral expression during an intense theme park ride and wouldn't scream. Internally, she'd freak out a little, though.

She has a slight fear of fire, often feeling rather uneasy thinking about it.

She brushes her hair often, but doesn't use an excessive amount of products for it(and probably uses even less considering her hair is no longer organic).

She can sometimes be a bit forgetful about her past, having forgotten some songs she used to play and some people she used to know, and doesn't remember anything about her parents besides how they didn't seem to care that much about her.

She can be very intense about the timing and rhythm of things, in and outside of music. She always tries to be on time for events, and do things in a certain rhythm, and if it doesn't go in an exact way she tends to feel rather uncomfortable about it, sometimes even worse if she was already not doing well.

And even when playing, she always tries to get perfect at anything she practices, doing things over and over and over until she can get it, and tends to get rather upset if she starts to struggle at certain things, especially things like rhythm and timing.

And more with music, she tends to count and tap her foot to herself if stressed in any way, trying to focus.