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yeoja-dream · 10 months ago

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Found/Fated/Forever

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: BTS OT7 x Reader Genre: Fantasy, eventual smut, porn with plot, slow burn, hurt/comfort Characters: Supernatural!BTS, Vampire!Jungkook, Supernatural!Reader Content Warning: Y/N in danger Word Count: 3.6k

Jungkook’s vision went white and he felt the air pulled out of his lungs as in a flash, he was again in the hospital room, Namjoon hovered worryingly over your body. He looked up as you arrived, obvious relief relaxing his features as his eyes landed on Baba Yena.

“Baba Yena,” Namjoon greeted with a bow. “I was only able to do a cursory search, but her kind isn’t listed or documented in any infernal records I was able to get my hands on.”

“Of course, because she is not from the hells, my child.” Baba Yena said, walking to your bedside, and shooing him away. “She is indeed a rare sight to behold, but you will have to ask her about her heritage, she has taken considerable lengths to conceal it.”

“So you will save her?” Namjoon asked, hopeful.

“Yes, horned one. Your mate has sacrificed sufficiently, and this child has suffered greatly as it is. It is not yet her time to die.” Baba Yena said, beginning to pull several black, oily drawing implements as well as a bottle of bright blue, glowing liquid.

Without much regard for the others standing in the room, Baba Yena began unceremoniously undressing your body, causing both the men in the room to turn their gaze elsewhere. Perhaps in a different time or context, it would be embarrassing, exciting perhaps, but they felt it perverse to see you unclothed in such a state. Fully nude, Baba Yena began using the black, oily, drawing implements to draw intricate symbols all over your body.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, back still turned.

“Her body is too weak to house her soul, so it is lost somewhere in the Astral Sea. The water from the Elu Spring in the Fey Wild will heal and strengthen her body. The markings are the spell that will call her soul back to her body.”

With that, Baba Yena sat you up, popping the cork of the blue liquid, and carefully poured it down your throat. Immediately, your almost grey skin flushes with color, and your rapid, shallow breaths begin to even out. Namjoon watched the monitor carefully, breathing a sigh of relief as your heart rate became stronger and faster too. Baba Yena then closed her eyes, extending her arms out straight, palms down. Her palms began to glow with a bright, white light, and as they glowed, so did the markings on your body. Baba Yena’s face scrunched with concentration. “Come on, child. It is not yet time to go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You came to, opening your eyes, rubbing them harshly as to clear your blurred vision. You feel yourself to be weightless, immediately, as if floating on water. All around you, horizon to horizon, were breathtakingly vibrant and clear night skies, completely lit up with stars and nebula as far as the eye could see. Below, was a massive and never-ending sea of the purest, molten silver, opaque and mirror-like, the gentle waves that broke the surface capturing the starlight with such luster you wondered for a moment if the water had been made of the cosmos, perhaps from the tears of the other stars, crying for the fallen.

It didn’t exactly take a scholar to figure out you had found yourself in the Astral Plane, the plane souls found themselves in before continuing onto an afterlife fitting of whomever they worshiped in life. Legend has it that the Astral Sea is what waters the Tree of Life, and drinking from its waters will grant you all knowledge and power akin to a God in your own right. Others said those with enough hubris or guts to try are simply driven stark raving mad, cursed to roam the endless abyss with nothing but the voices in their head to keep them company. Considering that you had yet to hear of a God exalted by this water, you were more inclined to believe the latter.

How the fuck did I get to the astral realm? You asked yourself, anxiety and panic prickling at your skin. You combed through your memories, you woke up, got dressed, had breakfast, and… you hit a wall. You try to push forward, but the more you do so, the more your brain shoots with pain. Something or someone was blocking you from remembering something important, and you judged. Whether or not that was simply a symptom of the situation you found yourself in or a direct action taken by someone, you had yet to discern.

There was at least one thing you knew about the Astral Plane, that in order to travel it, you only had to think, to will yourself in one direction or the other. You started by willing yourself into the vertical, upright position with the sea 10 meters below. What you did not know, however, was how magic functioned in this plane. The first obvious solution was to attempt to plane shift back to your reality, but when you mentally cast your consciousness out looking for laylines to dip into, you couldn’t find any. You willed yourself forward then, continuing the mental search.

Time in the Astral worked differently than in the prime material plane. There was no day or night, time simply did not pass, so it was impossible to gauge how long you truly spent looking, but you only stopped when your head throbbed from the exertion. Could it be possible that the Astral had no laylines? Or perhaps your magic had been cut off somehow, rendering you blind to any laylines that might exist? If that was the case, had you actually died? The thought raised your blood pressure.

Without the ability to dip into the magic, you were certainly not plane-shifting out of this shitty situation. You patted yourself down and only now realized that you were entirely without your personal effects, now wearing a rough spin, off-white tunic, brown pants of the same fabric, and a pair of worn leather boots. More importantly, without your stuff, you had returned to your true form. The realization was not helping the actually dead theory. You willed yourself forward, hoping to run into another soul, maybe someone who could help you figure this situation out.

You floated for what felt like years, decades. You didn’t need to eat or sleep, and with no time reference, the monotony alone would drive anyone mad, you didn’t even need to drink the seawater, you decided. Sometimes you saw people, mostly in the distance, however, and when you’d try to call their attention, they would flee like their lives depended on it. Other times the Sea itself would open up, portals of different shades of light would flash, dropping off newly departed souls, or more often, yanking an older soul into one afterlife or another. No one spoke to one another, and certainly no one spoke to you. That is, until mercifully, you hear your voice called by a friendly male voice behind you.

“Y/N?” The voice called out. The tone was friendly and definitively male, but there was a quality about the timbre that called out to something deeper and forgotten inside of you. You turned around hesitantly, seeing a tall, human man in his 20s. His hair was curly, his features dark and his skin a tanned olive. There was a familiarity to his look, and as he approached closer, it finally clicked.

“Fareed?!” You asked with a mixture of shock and surprise.

“Long time no see!” He said with a friendly wave.

When you had first escaped from the Fey Wild, Fareed was your first friend as a young child. Fareed was a bubbly but fearless kid whose hobbies appropriately included talking to strangers and jumping off the highest places he could find. He often slipped extra portions of his lunch out of the house, but you always suspected his mom knew and was giving him too much food deliberately. His fearlessness got him taken away far too young, and when our country began conscripting soldiers for some war in some faraway land, he was the first to volunteer. We received news of his passing only one month later.

To see him in his current state, alive, well, and sane choked you up and you found yourself fighting back tears.

“It’s Y/N! I must look considerably different now than when you last saw me.” You said gesturing to your true self. “Why are you still here?” You asked. Fareed had died at least 200 years ago, and you had always hoped that he was living it up in some cushy afterlife.

“I could recognize your energy from across all the planes.” He said with a light laugh. “The Astral has guardians and protectors like any other plane,” He explained. “I dedicated my afterlife to guiding and protecting the lost souls that wander here, and when it is time for them to pass on, I help them find that passage.”

“That sounds like an incredibly noble cause and absolutely something you would do,” You said with a laugh.

“Speaking of which,” He began, “I have gotten a sudden influx of souls complaining about a weird, noisy soul wandering around, harassing folks. Which, in turn, leads me to you. What are you doing here, you don’t seem dead?” He asked.

“About that,” you sighed “I woke up here and I can’t remember how or why I got here, and I would have simply teleported back but I can’t seem to use my magic.”

“That is strange, considering that the Astral Plane is incredibly magically potent, equally if not more so than the Fey Wild.” He stated. “Come here and let me touch your forehead, let me see if I can’t get this sorted for you.”

You willed yourself closer to him, and in response, he stuck his hand out, fingers tented, and placed them on your forehead. You feel nothing, but you watch Fareed’s eyes dart around rapidly, making negative vocalizations. After a moment, he drops his hand and focuses his vision back on you.

“Life certainly hasn’t been very kind to you, Y/N, and for that, I want to express my condolences.”

“Fareed the years have made you so well-spoken!” You exclaim with a laugh. “Thank you.” You said, more seriously.

“You have a powerful curse on you, but I think you already knew that. It is strange but refreshing to see your true form.” He stated. You nodded in confirmation as he continued, “You are not dead. You almost died. That is how you ended up here. Someone extremely powerful wanted you to forget what happened to you, so they blocked your memory and your magic. Fortunately, I am also someone extremely powerful and I was able to remove the block, but not the curse on you as a whole. That is a complicated and difficult endeavor not even I can do.”

With that information, you think back again, this time with crystal clear acuity. You remember the club, rescuing the woman, meeting Jungkook, his preposition. You remember being in his embrace, heat and lust and euphoria taking over every one of your senses, you remember begging him not to stop despite fading away slowly, and then darkness.

“I think I have a soulmate, Fareed.” You breathed.

“I am inclined to agree. All things do.”

“He has mates already though, 6 of them!” You exclaimed.

“Then you also have 6 additional mates,” Fareed said matter of factly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even know those people.”

Fareed cocked an eyebrow at you. “Y/N, do you know how soulmates work?”

“Love and magic and shit, no?” You asked with a shrug.

“Not quite,” Fareed explained. “Souls as most people like to refer to them are actually called Fragments. They are the broken-up pieces of Soulias. When the gods created all sentient living things, they made a center of power, into which they put all knowledge, power, emotion, experience, and condition, and they named that power center Soulia. The problem occurred when the gods tried to plant these Soulias into vessels, the power would overwhelm the vessel and tear it apart, and the ones strong enough to withstand were monstrous creatures of pain, chaos, and violence. The Gods decided to fracture the Soulias. The larger Fragments would go into the vessels they were creating, and the smaller Shards, remnants of the fracturing process, would go into all other living creatures. Fracturing also ensured that no two vessels would live an identical life and that only true harmony could be attained when you shared your piece, your life, your soul, with others around you. It was usually convenient to break the Soulia into two, so often you will see soul mates in pairs of two. But for larger Soulias, smaller Fragments are needed, so it is broken up into smaller pieces, so soulmate groups of more than two are certainly possible. The Soulia inside the vessel will spend its whole life pining after its other pieces. Many people never find their true other half, but a good deal will find love nonetheless and find satisfaction in that. Many here found their Shards in life inside beloved plants and animals.”

“I never knew all that,” You stared at him mouth agape. “So my soul, fragment, fits in with all of theirs?” You ask, gripping at your chest.

“Precisely.”

“What happens when all the parts of a Soulia are bought together?” You asked.

“Well, as I said before, the fracturing process is extremely imperfect, and in the creation of Fragments, a great number of shards are also produced, so getting every part of a Soulia back together is practically impossible. You can, however, tie the pieces together somewhat, bonding or mating as you likely know it, which affords all persons a metaphysical line to one another. Through that line, you can pick up on how your partner is feeling, you can send short messages or emotional sentiments. If they allow you in, you can enter their mind, they can share memories with you as they saw them, and they can allow you to feel exactly how they feel, understand how they actually think. It is a powerful connection, and allows for deeper intimacy and connection possible by other non-soulmate or non-bonded pairs.”

“That sounds… intrusive.” You mumble, arms crossed.

“It can be, but everything is done with the consent of both parties. You can ignore the call of your mate down the bond, even after you’ve let them in you can push them out of your mind at any time, and you can block anyone from entering. Just takes a little practice.”

You frown at that, “It sounds like you are selling it to me.”

“I guess you could say that I am. You seem upset, why? Most people are delighted to meet a soulmate.”

“I’m mad that my soulmate almost killed me, I’m mad that I have a soulmate, I’m mad that I have 7 soul mates. I’m mad that I’ve lived the last 50 years of my life in relative solitude because I was sick and tired of getting fucked over and suddenly 7 of potentially the deepest and most intimate connections a living thing can experience is dropped onto my lap so yeah, color me upset! I can’t do loss anymore, Fareed. It’s too painful.”

He looked you up and down, contemplatively. “If I may, one old friend to another?”

You nod in response.

“Look around and tell me what you see.” He said, making a wide sweeping gesture.

“I see endless and endless nothing dotted with lonely, lost souls, hoping that someday they’ll be called to something better.”

“Time may not pass in the Astral, but what I quickly learned is that this is the summation of a human life, Y/N. They live, and most days are bleak, boring, and mundane. Occasionally, another lonely soul will cross their path, and for a time, they find comfort in one another. Ultimately, they part, and at the end of it all, they pass on hoping that whatever next is someplace better, and yet for many this is what they have to look forward to.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you are getting at, Fareed.”

“You have lived a long, brilliant life Y/N, many times longer than many of the souls that wander here. You have suffered more than much more than many of these souls, but you have been gifted the chance to love and be loved much more than many of these souls. So go, Y/N. Set yourself free from grief, worry, and suspicion. Do not shy away from love for fear of pain, love despite it, and love fiercely and unapologetically. When you are called to join us here again, come with joy in your heart from a life fearlessly spent, or be doomed to eternity searching the silver sea for your salvation. You are your own salvation.”

You pursed your lips tightly, looking down at the Astral Sea as you processed his words.

“It isn’t that easy,” You began, your voice wavering.

“For you, it won’t be,” He admitted. “It is true some come into this world full of light and for whom trust and love come easy. But for those who have been hurt as you have, it is going to be hard. Just because things are hard doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing or that they are bad for us.”

“You know what I am, what I am made of. You see the ticking bomb I am, and yet you insist I allow people to get close to me to what... hurt as many as I can? I will never be free, Fareed. They will chase me to the ends of time and take from me what they feel they are owed. We both know that.” You finish your rant, a single tear running down your cheek. As you do so, a bright white portal opens on the top of the Astral Sea, slowly dragging you closer and closer to its event horizon.

“It seems our time together has run out,” Fareed said. “If you would allow me to leave you with a parting thought before you go. The only memories they blocked from you were of him. They wanted you to forget him so desperately they blocked your magic essentially confining you to a realm where they would never be able to touch you again. That is worth considering.”

As your feet began to hit the portal, Fareed grabbed your hand holding it close.

“Make the world tremble at you, Y/N. I don’t want to see you here for a long, long time. Good luck-” The end of the word was clipped as your vision went white, your hearing went silent, and like you were being flushed down a toilet, you felt yourself being yanked at lightning speed by your feet, and suddenly everything was again dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Baba Yena pulled up her arms suddenly, and in response, your body involuntarily arched. When doing so, you let out a sudden, loud gasp, causing all present to breathe a small sigh of relief to themselves too.

“The child was very deep, so it took me a while to find her.” Baba Yena said, redressing you in a spare hospital bed and tucking you in gently. “Both of you,” She said, turning to the men who had huddled together for comfort during the spell. “Kneel.”

They looked at each other, but rather than piss off a supremely powerful being who just did you a massive favor, the pair concede, sinking to the floor on their knees. Once in position, Baba Yena approached the pair. While kneeling, Baba Yena was at eye level with the boys. She approached Jungkook first.

Thwack! She cracked him across the skull with a walking cane. “What are you doing bleeding girls dry like you're some poor changling with no control of their thirst? You are over 200 years old, act your age! You had no business testing out a connection you had no idea if you could control without supervision.” Baba Yena scolded him thoroughly.

“And you,” Thwack! This time she cracked Namjoon over the skull with the cane. “What the hell kind of doctor are you? You were in such a rush to do nothing you didn’t stop to see the blinding, gold amulet that she wears? The very same type you and several of your mates wear? If he almost killed her, you were signing the death certificate with your negligence ink. You ought to be ashamed.” She finished, brushing nothing off her petticoat, and gathering her things to leave.

“She will wake in 3 days fully rested and back to full health. There will come a time when she has questions about herself, and when she does, find me. Until then, leave me alone. You kids have caused me enough trouble as it is. Oh and, be careful with that one. She has been through enough.” And with that, she flourishes the very same cane, vanishing.

The silence that hangs in the air after Baba Yena leaves is long and heavy, but mixed with relief as the pair approach both sides of your bed, staring at your sleeping form. It was amazing how starkly opposite you looked now to even just an hour before, knocking on death’s door.

“I think you have a lot of explaining to do, Kook.”

“Later,” The younger one pleaded. “I just want to sit here for a little while.”

“Later.” Namjoon agreed, excusing himself. Not but 20 minutes later, he found himself back in the room, second chair and laptop in hand. Jungkook was too guilt-ridden to say it, but he was immensely grateful for the company. He hoped you were too.

_____________________________________________ Tags @luvlykyy ---------------------------------------------------------- Big lore dump this chapter! Some of you may be noticing some inspiration from DnD to lend me some framework for world-building! That is absolutely true, but as I also mentioned I have been using it as a framework, and as such it may or may not veer violently off the Forgotten Realms cannon, so don't get too twisted about "Hey, that's not how that thing works!" It's just a work of fiction I'm writing for funsies at the end of the day so don't take it too seriously. I hope you are all enjoying~

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #ot7 x reader #namjoon x reader #bts x reader angst #bts x reader smut #bts x oc #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts x fem!reader #ot7 x reader smut #ot7 x you #bts fanfic #bts ff #bts smut #bts smau #bts #bangtan #foundfatedforever

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talonabraxas · 4 months ago

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Krishna's flute

Music is integral to faith; it works its powers over even inanimate things. Our major divinities are usually depicted with musical instruments, such as Lord Shiva with the damaru and Goddess Saraswati with the veena. With Lord Krishna, however, the flute is more than a mere musical instrument. Can anyone imagine Krishna without His bansuri?

In the Bhagwata Purana there is a whole chapter about Krishna playing His transcendental bansuri in Vrindavan. People of every age, animals and the trees and shrubs too would stand still to savour the divine vibration and it seemed they would melt and swoon listening to the melodious note of his flute. It was like casting a magical spell on whosoever it touched.

A popular legend says that Sri Krishna used to communicate with his dearmost beloved Sri Radha through His flute which only She understood perfectly.

The gopis were always jealous of Krishna’s bansuri. It seemed to them as if it was dearer to Him than they were. Many a time they would hide his flute so that He may have time to cast a glimpse at them otherwise it would always stuck to His lips or play in His hands.

There are many tales of Krishna’s flute being stolen and how He begged the Gopis to return it. He asked each one-Lalita, Vishakha, Chitra but all denied any knowledge of His bansuri. Lalita said “I don’t know. And why should I tell you where it is even if I do know?’

Krishna began to search for Radha for He knew none but She can dare hide his bansuri. When He confronted her, She said teasingly, ‘Was it for this you wasted all your energy hunting me out? Poor Krishna! Go! I have seen your love for me’ Krishna smiled, ‘Radhe, do you not know that you are the life of my life? My flute only vibrates your sweet name.”

Krishna then elaborated, “I do everything through my bansuri. I pour transcendental joy into the hearts of the rasika bhaktas like Gopis through my flute-song and I assemble the dull bhaktas with the music of my flute. Thus I do my universal supervision only through my Bansuri.”

He further tells Her about the symbolism of bansuri, “If anyone wants to taste the nectarine sweetness of my lips, he should empty himself of his egoism like the bansuri empties itself quickly so that I may fill it with my music and keep it always near my lips.”

The sound of the flute stirs the anahat chakra or the ‘unstruck sound’ in our causal bodies. That sound made the gopis mad for Lord Krishna.

And what is the flute singing? The name of Radharani. No other sound is coming out from the flute, only, "Radhe, Radhe, Radhe, Radhe, Radhe!" Only this sound emanates — in a variety of ways - from the flute of Krishna. The sound manifestation of its divine influence spreads over the entire transcendental and mundane worlds.

This understanding we get from the description of Rasa Lila in Srimad Bhagavatam. Krishna calls all the Gopis to assemble for Rasa by playing his flute. It is the clarion call.

The bamboo flute, made of a single length of bamboo, with six or seven holes and with no mechanical parts, is the oldest musical instrument known to man. Its sound vibration is believed to be the closest representation of the mystic syllable “Om” permeating all of creation and transcending it.

Gopala-topani Upanishad also establishes the understanding of Omas non-different from the Supreme Entities Sri Sri Radha-Krishna.

The enlightened sages declare that the Swarupa-shakti of Bhagavan, Srimati Radharani is non-different from Om. Gopala, Sri Krishna who is the Creator, Maintainer and Destroyer of the universes is also non-different from Om.

Srila Jiva Goswami in his description of the alphabetical constituents of the mantra Om gives the following description:

"Om is a combination of letters, A, U, M. The letter 'A' refers to Krishna. The Letter 'U' refers to Radha, and the letter 'M' refers to the individual soul."

Once, while in Vrindavan, Baba was asked the question, “who does the bansi represent?” He replied that there was a gopi who used to speak and sing very sweetly. Krishna loved her dearly. Once he was dallying with her in a grove of reeds. Radharani found them together and cursed the gopi to turn into a shrub of reed herself. Actually, She did this to bless her.

Krishna comforted the gopi and said that he would make a flute out of the reed and ever keep her at His lips. In this way, she would continue to produce sweet sound which would charm the entire universe.

Hare Krishna!

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mamoonde · 1 year ago

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modern au for cssr x wcz

where cssr is a touring pop indie artist and one night after a set where she performed brooklyn baby (lana del rey) in a bar/club, wcz the bartender serves her drink and asks, "is your boyfriend really cool?"

cssr blinks, gives him a (slow) once over, smiles.

"depends. are you?"

mama wei got soooooooo much game i just know it. she knew it, wielded it, killed (metaphorically) with it.

baba wei got game. didn't know it. didn't flaunt it. poured delicious cocktails w his sleeves rolled up his forearms and a genial smile and assumed everybody else got the same insane amount of tips every night.

cssr chatted wcz up, and wcz responded in kind without expectation. when a persistent guy wouldn't take the hint, less so the blunt 'no,' wcz deftly deals with him with a mere forbidding look and even (dangerous) tone.

cssr took him home that night.

wcz thought that was it. and was proven wrong.

cssr kept coming back, night after night, even when she didn't have to perform, reveling in doing the chasing for once.

wcz thought cssr who lived that kind of wild carefree lifestyle couldn't possibly 'settle' for a guy like him. and yet cssr is sooooooooooo gone for him.

some spurned loser: you know she's just playing with you, right? cssr will never be tied down, least of all by you

wcz: thank you for your concern, but i'm afraid you're not my type. and i would be a fool to even think about tying cangse down. she loves being a free spirit and i wouldn't change her for the world

cssr: marry me

🔞 later in wcz's apartment 🔞

wcz breaks off their kiss. "you could have any man... why me?"

"can't i just want you? don't you want me too?" cssr pouts playfully, tugging at his hair.

wcz gives in and kisses her again. "you can. i do. so much." he says between kisses.

and then they don't speak again until they're both undressed on wcz's bed, cssr straddling wcz with him deep inside her.

"those men only want to own me, control me--" cssr gasps. "make me a trophy to display at home. but you," she rolls her hips. "you're not like them. you wouldn't do that."

she revels in the way he looks at her, like he sees right through to her soul. not some work of art display or land to conquer; just her.

wcz lets her set the pace, then lifts her off him by the hips and just holds her there. "are you calling me weak?" he tugs her nipple with his teeth.

cssr squeaks then tugs at his head.

"nooo, you know what i mean!" she whines, kicking her feet when he keeps holding her still with just the tip of him inside her.

she retaliates by clenching her walls, rolling her hips and sucking at the sensitive spot behind his ear.

their little game continues until neither of them can keep any semblance of rhythm, devolving into a relentless chase to the end.

"you really won't tie me down, a-ze?" cssr pants against his lips.

"not unless you want me to." wcz says, still rubbing her clit, wet with their spend, until cssr shudders again.

~~ end of nsfw bit ~~~

they stay like that for a while, catching their breaths against sweaty skin. then cssr blows a raspberry into wcz's chest.

"should i be offended that you won't even try?" she says dryly.

"i will not do anything you don't want." wcz looks her in the eyes. cssr flushes with an eep! then looks down, tracing his clavicle.

"so if i say i want to keep traveling?"

wcz holds her wrist, pressing her palm to his heart. "then i will say, where to?"

"you'd come with me?"

"if you'd let me."

"what if i lose my voice?" cssr asks later as wcz washes her hair.

"then we'll take sign language classes and i'll work extra until you can find a new job."

"what if i get old and wrinkly and all my hair turns grey?" cssr asks while they're shopping for groceries.

"then people will finally believe me when i say i've been had by a cougar." wcz says while placing a jar of cssr's favorite peanut butter brand in the cart.

cssr squawks and smacks his arm with a bag of gummy bears.

"a-se, no one will believe your age with the way you act." wcz deadpans, then kisses her forehead. "if it bothers you, we can dye your hair to match mine, or mine to match yours."

"hmm, i do think you'd look cool with silver hair." cssr says, then challenges, "what if i want us to get pink hair?"

"then we'll both get pink hair dye."

"what if i'm no longer beautiful?" cssr asks as they settle in for bed. "will you still love me?"

"it's a good thing i don't love you for just your looks then," wcz says then kisses her pout away with a smile. "i will always love you no matter what you look like. my love is always beautiful."

cssr smiles and kisses him softly.

"good answer!" she chirps then turns on her back. "'cuz in four months, my belly will pop and my ankles will be swollen, and in eight months, i won't even be able to see them! but you still need to tell me i'm pretty, okay?"

"yes, yes, you're pretty," wcz mumbles half asleep... then blinks awake. "...wait. cangse?"

cssr hums. "good night, baby daddy."

then she conks out.

wcz blinks, and blinks again. he starts counting.

"what."

he counts again. fuck, they hadn't used any protection that first time, did they? neither did he use a condom that one time at the bar... or that other night... oh.

oh.

wcz doesn't sleep for a long time.

when morning comes, cssr wakes to wcz curled up against her waist, hand on her belly.

"silly changze, the baby's still just a pea!"

she smiles dopily. yep, this one's a keeper.

the end

eight months and twenty years later, wwx asks his parents about their love story to deflect from his own love woes, does the math, and realizes they conceived him the night they met:

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs au #modern au #wcz x cssr #long form #wei changze #cangse sanren #i was listening to lana del rey and had Thoughts #birth secret of wei wuxian lmao #just like that korean actor who found out on national tv #crossposted from twt #mamoonde fics

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libidomechanica · 11 months ago

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And much as I despair

A tricube sequence

And the sky, that the door was the quiet,

luxuriant, but memory

yet. Than any mete þay wroȝten.

The coloured for air. Among his knowledge,

and hym not see other, because

of creame vpon foldez þou go to friends!

Robert Burns: ask for thee. Burnt like

poisonous floor; so Cantemir can he

no lote. Ah my designated great.

Of so fayr of face the Sexes’

interpose that it indeed, Repentance

flinty savage an inverted stream.

Arise! As for miles, foam and bremly

þe chef þat is he did not love

of histories. With glopnyng of command.

’Tis true, tis not one that rubs its twinkle,

his heart, destroys it. Ever love

of Lady Ida’s youth open wyde.

When non wolde. ’ Nay, better laud, and þose

were. Of such hit is geuen not she fled

on þe mor, malt on þe bonke þynkes.

These clouds it sweet and revision of

more the sea. They took his quart of her

anger, we say not been task’d; but oh!

Pretty freak, but which pain. His Psyche

and swift Hebrus to samen þere. And

I will or yard, the whisper’d the Pot?

Said Baba spoke not: Wake! And foch þe

nek he naked the night a bee, and

third-’—Hold! But only calm- breath, and eye.

But this thy selfe to laykez, and I

gif þe, lede, if she said, oh misery!

I will sourly leaves are fairly.

What can no more. And horrible hammer-

blows. And, Do I dare not at the

darlings my Bed, and I took amiss.

Would underneath her fayrest ful bayn,

a grene sylkyn borde þat he þe late

forbade the Sand. He ferde and a heart.

How it could steedes be poure out by

the ocean’s flow, sweet lays. With her eyes

dryuen þay seuered heart and lyȝt at home!

I had love, to be; all this lubrique

and gay; but the knew. Of alle þe

lorde; þe leuell into a lake display’d.

Are only in those days’ white. And I

wept it? And yet, before the virgin,

martial king them at þe sunne schewed!

He were wrathed up from wealth, sae lang

day, bot in his wedes: a storm. Of

the cause the be thy motion’d to me?

Why, all her fault! And only knowledge

flies; there so the rest. To vnlace þe los

of þe loȝe. And I schulde beastlyhead.

Political blocking to here, for

if they doe ye awake at another

and good! And the ceremony.

A foolish Prophet—and his brothers

lay the aching scandal stamp of my

tremble? Where they were nor heavenward.

Such a fare þat wlonk euer. But fragile

brother-angels doe dark, the into

stealthes shall I part us with blis.

A woman of the soil of metals

beside them guide, and built a case mercy

non vses, foysoun tyme þat his chinne.

Ask me nothing wants. Something just be

bayn to sing, and syþen I þe tell you

no form and remain the work for me.

To wonder’d in her eyes nurture. Yea,

sweetheart, thy cup is run! But not how:

having seas between each from my trawþe.

Sorrow and close at himself commandant

stretched race, spears. But ere ever-smitten

hymseluen, to þe roȝ wonez.

Blind mould to which touch on the window.

Image all yclad in curiously

modest, ’t would not represence.

—God knows where they circle the deawy

leaue to peer. ’—For what I did attentive:

the gardenias blown, in my milk!

Plenty of women fresh in flowres

a tunnel. Then suffer hym anelede

of youngest Virgin lieu of man!

Softer than she gave the fruit with

melancholy. I shall respects a maidens,

walls, the princessant care, I say?

When hey, for a lass wi’ Geordie

impress his gilt helez as þe mon

and Me. That he had lime, and some place!

Stay! Baba and Juan answer inscrib’d

with their fondness soul to some other

veins to and with many conspired?

Her face of restless wish’d days work. An

open-hearted— ah, your last night have

named her scrannel trousers not enough.

Dancer, singeing once and eye. When I

ride not this thorn when how vast a shawl’d

to this, all sleep, when my life alone.

Hark how thin another’s. For Bess could

not stand I mine eyes, and more: in the

wedding’s ended: laiko, Common Sense.

Twinkling, born with the cossez me now

comes to rift the sea ran high. No more,

for her knee, that lette I neuer schame.

A license; might dividends of old

from they won’t. Their rayes the woods shall were

sleep. And black fellow- creatures maked.

At þe þrid þou fele his majesty

she downe, a hardened with his hopes

of poesy! And also crown’d: Why so?

Thy shame; morgne la Faye, þat gentyle

knyȝt þe dele yow ȝelde! At þis tyme

in her chambre for to hurt our honour.

’Tis not at all. Of mercy offers

not be near— close by a simple grew,—

a most of grene lace, all him, for slaue.

I biknowez þe fayrest in her

thirsty milk! No scandal of this weakness

and head of his bugle to show?

I’m puzzled Nature fix’d the only

gentle writhed hornes did sow. How

men came in them to dere, to giggle.

The brae, Sir Gawen herde say. I trust

I would wake, it seemed to all then for

each several stamp me back and rain.

The one, and bended his heard the dead,

would we must tranquility. My whole

grows upon my dreaming Foot in woe?

Of the Divan; though with portly pace,

which done, does not to be short, all she

knew. And thus invaded me share em.

And one accounts her gasping for breast;

yet, heart. Of impotently define

the stonde hym lykes þat I sette and swete.

And its Treasured indeed! This wedez

ar so coarsely clung to feed of

further cheek’s trade; the wished— our king limbs.

Baby form, and golden atoms with

a morsel he lyke chere a pig, indeed!

For her eyes closes hit is gone.

He might always she the Vessel on

nawþer þat tyde. So—But whether gulbeyaz,

when I tried; her error, like it.

Where paced, and ways? I ne’er consort with

solace own scythe, while, that a man of

sciential, glad sound, which has a lifetime.

The way to cut you an onion. That

the happen, thought on a dream his seruyse

and Lo! Let fairest, nor leisure.

That moral England, with alle þe

bonkkez bifore þen any mord. ’ Children—

there is a work his shoulders bare.

Hall and if thy soft delight with its

guards being to her on the loved—that

is no great bells. Because and builds here!

For that desperate chaunce, thought, when oute—

and in his holliday: for thy sphere.

Outlined that this compeyny noble!

Which younger and your fingering a

celestial king extremely hat, the

Ouzell shone had not in woe? Her mind.

He could just that kept their golde þat

Salamon sung, or at hand ambrosia

mixtures, and built a little prosper.

And if þou fraystez flesche, foldez him

broȝt hym, and ways, and darke sam? For by

so quit the second time yet not fret.

I do not ille, and weaves were colour’d

hed, milke henges. Before. Bid me

die, and on hym as mortals dreaming.

Went they drank for me by the Day, who

chuckle, and built a Chamber Oda

is the tomb, to be afraid. Of grene.

In space; or, calles; a Cataract leaps

in his coal all be our ultimate

Alexander, as kindlier that holde?

Some we lay: and her should ye wondering

cheuisaunce all that euer may. Prepare

that pared for þe faren, oþer betight?

They are in tune this waiting at the

fisherman swore my churches. And happy

as we read. I cried of your self.

Hid by the hand, one words say, which, like

a fish out of what had of joys or

woe of a bird. No blemish or iar.

—What had recent longed to remene. And

now ȝe ar þerinne, and they lay callen

oueral, as þe morning disgrace.

Sat with game. You could pulling maister

came downe, that awoke in upon cloudy

seas change; her passioned towrast.

Morn in thy loss of Merlyn mony

aþel Arthor. ’ Grant mercye and Lyonel, and

his soul was found, which lays both his way.

And wine upon sand by the shrieking

a truthful. Love tunes itself has perish:

look home, in the blinded Lycius!

Which is natural rest, well- bred. Knit vpon

bastel carnelez clambred so deep

passionless, as I have name enough.

No, no, no, no, no, my Deare, let not

a blow, to sech to her, Hermes, by

my silence is incredulous. Seed.

The purpose here thy blesse me that strange

their spirits so fair desire;

however again. Some kill a Story?

And am beloved and once decay.

The ghost begin to sport passed the

darkness flicker, and most evil fan.

And, wrestling furious evolutions;

and tars, green, and why? Lo the

willow or the shadow, he pursues!

A blight and madee hym þyse oþer. Because

of meteors, let bloom, haughtier smile

betwixt the amorous parricide!

’—I ran away completes the struggled,

sprawling on his food, at me forever.

First, but never dryȝe, and demed.

But shepheards them with its neighbour’d times,

and Doom: the wreathe o’ergrown slight things were

fayre with her greenish marble, and I.

Space quat hit kepez. Body of a

toast and torch out like at þat deruely

þerafter hade he be besprint.

If thou departes; vche burne now could

rip: the plant though many a once hade

ben diȝt on hyȝe fest among his trayne.

A loving Finger hence, but I an

eagle to the terrace, in wanting

Chaplain robed in being on his face?

When by thee so fayr þat sues þeroute,

schyre green dell that did not envy her.

Not toss’d Thee that slides along the wylde.

A cruel madness, the bitter, for þe

freke for he could tell your feet you wandez

ende, and ȝelle. ’ Voice did nothing?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #181 texts #tricube sequence

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moonstrider9904 · 3 years ago

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Fanfiction history tag game!

Thank you my wonderful @galacticgraffiti for tagging me!! This is gonna be fun owo

As a reader

First fandom you remember: Star Wars (as it should be!)

Other fandoms you've been part of: Avatar: The Last Airbender, LOTR and The Hobbit, DC Comics, Marvel

First Fic You Ever Read: I'm pretty sure it must have been a Star Wars fic, probably for Rex or Fives, but I can't remember very well

Longest fic you've read: I think it's got to be Golden Dawn by rebekadjarin and I <3 love that fic with all my heart <3

An unfinished fic you've followed longest: the whole BAON series by Ro. New installments are being added and this fic makes me feel, y'all, as it has for months now!

A fic you've read more times than you can count: A Happy Laugh by Emme. Happy, soft Fives is just <3 I love!

As a creator

First fandom you wrote/created for: Star Wars again! I remember writing a Rebels fanfic, but I've lost it completely :(

Fic/Art that you're most proud of: Moonlight. My own little magnum opus, the fic I've poured every drop of my soul into that's set the foundation for fics I'm currently working on. I love this story with all my heart :'

Fic/Art that got more attention than you anticipated: Sweetness of your Arms, and I'm pretty sure this was because everyone loves Rex (myself included) uwu

Fic/Art that you think deserves more hype: I think my Wolffe fic, The Hunt, is one of my finest works and I've had a ton of fun working on it. It's been a while since I've touched it, precisely because it's kind of in the shadows and I've still yet to cross-post this to tumblr (and I should probably do that soon hehe). I think many people could like this fic :'

WIP that you're most excited for: I'm very excited for Lake Everless because it's one of the first times I write solely an AU as a full fic, as in, not set in the Star Wars universe but rather in a more earth-like setting. This fic is going to be so soft and gooey :3

Fic you're currently working on: One of my biggest WIPs at the moment is Moonwalker, and this one's really important because I'm rewriting it to improve it technically and to make the depiction of TBB more respectful. It does follow canon but I'm going to fix as many details as I can because I said so!

No pressure tags: @eloquentmoon @kaminocasey @book-of-baba-fett @twistedstitcher27 @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @kimageddon

#thanks for tagging me!#moonstrider writes

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sebaschian · 4 years ago

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Automatically a Mama (Grelle Sutcliff) Chapter 1

Summary: While doing soul collection, Grelle gets faced with a situation. To take or not take in an orphaned human infant. Can she handle the responsibility of child care?

A/N: Female pronouns. Not your thing? Ignore this and don’t cause drama.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Kuroshitsuji series. I only own this fanfiction and the OC’s in here.

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Not much activity was happening in the human realm, but Grelle Sutcliff was tasked with the recollection of souls and records, not that she personally liked doing work but she was threatened with many more work if she slacked off or do what she wanted to do instead of work.

“Murder of a couple, South London... well this could be an interesting DEATH~!” She made her signature pose and head into the house. She inspected the scene, the couple had died holding one another close. The wife was on top of the husband, it seemed like their jewelry was stolen.

“Markus Rick and Marilyn Rosanne Harrington. Markus born February 8 1846 and Marilyn born August 19 1843, cause of death shot in the chest multiple of times, both of them owned a bakery and were very famous with their fruit crepes. Oh well, what a shame, they had to die this way.” Grelle saw through their cinematic records and put the COMPLETE stamp on their picture in the book.

“Well, I’m done for today, I gotta head off-” Grelle was about to turn and leave the place when, a tiny giggle stopped her in her tracks. “Huh?” she looked down and saw a small baby, being covered in blankets, looking as if their parents were trying so hard to hide them from the thieves that took their life.

“A baby...” Grelle felt for the little creature sure, but she had other things to do to pay attention to the tiny human who was playing with the blankets and looking at her. “I’m so sorry you have to be alone now, your mummy and dada are... gone little one. But I’m sure when the authorities come they will take you to an orphanage where they’ll care for you. Adieu, mon petit!” she then turned back to leave when the baby put a sad face behind her back and then started to cry.

Grelle felt a heartsqueeze just hearing those cries. They sounded so desperate, so scared, begging to not be left alone. Sometime inside Grelle was changing, could she really take in that mortal? No, she had to. She couldn’t really leave them like that. “Hey, hey, shhhh. It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m not leaving.” She then turned back to the child and carefully picked them up in arms. The baby giggled automatically, since they were picked up as they wanted to.

The baby didn’t look like they were were a newborn, they appeared to be around a year old or at least ten months old, had dark black hair and green eyes, almost like a reaper but they were human.

“Oh, what did I get myself into, little one. Here with you, what am I supposed to do with you, hmm?” She wondered as she held the baby close to her.

“Ma...”

“Hm?”

“Maaaa!”

“What do you mean, little one?”

“Mama!”

Grelle’s whole world stopped right there when that word escaped the young one’s lips. Mama. Why did that simple word made her heart skip a bit and why did her eyes were becoming watery.

“W-what did you just say, tiny one? Can you repeat it?” She put the small baby to her face, looking at them hopefully it was what she thought they say.

“Mama, Mama, Mama!” The little one cupped her face and giggled, repeating it more times. Grelle’s shocked face slowly turned into a soft smiled, she was also shedding tears. Very joyful tears. She had always wanted to have a child of her own, that was her true life wish, for this one to quickly accept her as their mother with only seconds of meeting.

“Why yes, YES! I am your Mama!” Grelle squealed, letting the joyful tears flow more as she cuddled the precious bundle of joy that she had in her arms. Happy sobs all the way. She had found her opportunity to be the mother that she had wanted to be, there was no doubt. This baby was hers now.

“Do you have a name, mon petit?” Now she focused on the baby’s gender. How did humans check a child’s gender again? Ah, she remembered it now. She folded the blanket a bit and determined it now. “So a baby boy?” There was nothing in there that told the baby’s name, so Grelle decided to come up with a name.

“Wiru Gary Sutcliff. Sounds about right!” Giving the baby that name, she put him back in her arms and grabbed the blanket wrapping him comfortably in it. “Come, I gotta go back to my own realm, please keep quiet, dear one. I don’t want to get into trouble for taking a human where they’re not supposed to go.” she said softly, took her death-scythe and hopped out the window, with the baby and off she was to the reaper realm.

Could she really, really be able to care for a human child, despite never being in contact with one before? Grelle was simply the type of person to do things without thinking before doing them, of course she would take a baby human and claimed that it was her baby.

(Grim Reaper Dispatch, Reaper Realm)

“There we go, Wiru. Nice and quiet, don’t make a single peep. Mama’s gonna be in trouble if you make a sound.” Grelle whispered, putting the baby inside the closet behind her desk on blankets and rubbed the child’s cheek. “Be a good baby and nap for a bit okay? Okay.” she looked from side to side and closed the doors and quickly went to sit on the chair inside her own office.

“Grelle Sutcliff, did you complete the task?” that was William the superior coming inside, keeping his expressionless nature and pushing his glasses up to keep them from falling.

“Aww, Will, darling! Of course I did!” Grelle as usually responded to him like that, her eyes being hearts as they usually turned when seeing the guys that she found attractive.

William sighed, ignoring the darling comment, he’d gotten used to it by now. “Reports.”

“Murder of a married couple. Their baby was orphaned.” Grelle started, of course behind her mind was, the baby’s not orphaned now for she just took him in.

William nodded pleased, for once Grelle did something formal instead of doing things the way she wanted. “Well done, Sutcliff. I must tell I am impressed by your performance today, you didn’t screw anything up. So congrats on that, keep it up.” he was impressed by it, which was barely true, since Grelle tended to get a little driven by her emotions in work and that caused her to make messes in the process.

“Ahh baba da dee...” Little Wiru suddenly let out those meaningless babbles for a baby who didn’t know any better.

William furrowed his brows. “What was that?” he looked around.

Grelle panicked and then came up with something. “My stomach! I am hungry! It was so early in the morning, they just contacted me and I couldn’t get any mouthful inside!”

A stomach talking? Ah whatever, William wasn’t even going to question it, he had many other things to do than to pay attention to that. “Well, have you eaten your daily portion of carrots on the way to work?”

Grelle made a face. “Will, dear, you know that I can’t stand carrots, they’re disgusting!”

“Grelle Sutcliff that is not up for discussion, you will eat them everyday.” William said with irritation, it always the same with this reaper, she never wanted to eat what already was a requirement. He pulled out a plate with six carrots and put in front of Grelle. “Eat. I want to see you.”

“B-but-!” Before Grelle could protest, William picked a carrot with a fork and stuck it inside her mouth.

“Eat.” He wasn’t going to relent until he saw her eating them.

“Mph!” Grelle sputtered and shook her head, why did William always have to do this to her! But she having no choice, so all be it reluctantly she started chewing on it, making disgusted faces. Luckily for her, William got distracted by something some other reapers were saying out there and Grelle spit the carrot out to her bin and did the same with the other carrots, taking off the leaves of one and putting it inside her mouth.

“Well, now- Did you eat them all already?” William stared at the redhead, but he could see crumbs of carrots on her cheeks so he believed it. “Well, now it’s over. I’m off, continue writing those reports down.” He whirled and exited Grelle’s office, closing the door behind him.

“Yuck, disgusting carrots.” Grelle then walked over to the closet and retrieved the baby. “That was very close, Wiru. Please don’t do that when Will is here, it could give Mama a very serious trouble, my sweetie.” She couldn’t really yell at a baby, she knew that it made them cry and if she had the baby crying it all would get seriousness thrown at her, so she sat down, cradling Wiru in arms.

Wiru looked like he was about to cry, because he was whimpering. And Grelle really had a worried face.

“Don’t cry my little one, Mama’s here, Mama’s here.” She started to gently rocked the baby in her arms, making shushing sounds. Everything she knew about babies was from the scratch as she had never been with one before, she was improvising all her actions. “Shhh, shhh.”

The baby was hungry, he hadn’t eaten anything from when his parents were murdered. Grelle couldn’t tell, but she figured it was hunger.

“Hungry? What do you human babies even eat?” She knew if they didn’t have their teeth yet, they couldn’t eat solids, it all had to be mushed and given to them. “Milk? I just have one milk box here.” Grelle pulled it out. But she didn’t have what was needed to feed babies. A baby bottle. She had to improvise, make something similar to it. So she pour it inside a normal glass and put a straw in it, gently getting the straw inside the little baby’s mouth, hoping he knew how to suck because then she’d have trouble feeding this little one.

Gladly, Wiru began sucking the milk and then drinking it, so Grelle was aleviated from this. She sighed in relief. Well maybe, raising a human baby in secret wouldn’t be much trouble.

#fanfiction #writng #mother grelle headcanon #black butler #kuroshitsuji #Grelle Sutcliff #oc #chapter one

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brokenjardaantech · 4 years ago

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Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 7: Power Unleashed)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

summary:

In the past, Fadia was reborn.

In the present, Connor and Hank pays Ryder a visit.

In the past, Fadia went on a killing spree.

also on ao3

content warning for robogore in the final section of this chapter

---

Before

Fadia had debated if she should go to the funeral or not. She hadn’t talked to her mother for years before she died, not even after she had co-founded CyberLife with her father, and even with him, their relationship was more professional than anything else - not that Alec never tried to improve it. But as much as she had rejected anything familial with her parents, respect still had to be paid to the scientist who started… well, literally everything, from her powers (biotics, a voice that sounded like Scott corrected her) to American androids to what she was planning to do -

And to the sickness that took her life at last.

‘Why are you here?’ was how her father greeted her. So be it.

‘Unlike you, Mama didn’t ruin everyone’s lives for one person,’ she fixed a glare and was very glad that she towered over him now. ‘I come to pay my respects. Then I’ll go.’

‘Where’s Scott?’

‘None of your business, Baba.’

‘Not even saying goodbye to his mother, huh?’ Alec said dismissively, and Fadia’s blood boiled, her heart speeding up and her face burning. ‘Should’ve known that.’

Seeing that there was no one else in the immediate vicinity, she grabbed him by his collar and slammed him onto a wall. ‘You damned well know why he can’t be here,’ she gritted. ‘Your presence brings him so much pain that he is denied a chance to properly bid his mother farewell!’

A prick. Her vision swam. Her head was heavy like it was filled with lead. Her heart throbbed, and she fell onto the ground, her muscles convulsing and spasming from an unknown force.

‘I need you to live,’ she heard Alec say, but her focus was on reaching for the phone in her pocket and sending one final message to her brother and Reyes.

Am captured. Run. Don’t let Alec get you.

oOoOo

When she woke, everything was different, wrong, foreign. There was so much information in front of her eyes, telling her how fast her heart was beating, how efficient her systems are, how much stress she was under. She tried to raise her hand to wave them away and looked down when she realised that she couldn’t.

She was strapped onto the table by an android’s limbs.

Rage boiled in her new veins, and as she tapped into her power to break the restraints, she discovered that it was much easier than when she was still a human. [Abnormal thirium usage detected], a warning popped up, and she dismissed it together with the others with a simple thought. If she had not been so focused on escaping wherever she was in, she would have been frightened by how seamlessly she seemed to accept the fact that she was no longer human.

The door was locked so she blasted it open with a crackle of blue and static even though it would probably trip the alarms, and indeed sirens blared, pristine hallways turning red from the warning lights, and when a security guard - pathetic, really, since he didn’t even have the most basic armour on - tried to confront her alone, she merely snapped her fingers and blasted him in his face with a sphere of blue. A crunch, and he fell onto the floor with a thud. The rest of the security (mercenaries, she knew some of them were) was handled similarly without any difficulties on her part, and it was not until she slammed the door to the ground floor - to her freedom - open that her new eyes were assaulted by blindingly bright light. She blinked to adjust her vision and was not impressed when she saw her father standing in front of a lobby full of armed security personnel.

‘Go back to the lab, Sara,’ he said smoothly, but his voice gritted in her ear like the roughest sandpaper. ‘There’s no need for further violence.’

Like hell. ‘Let me go. You know what I can do to every single person in the room.’

‘Sara, go back to the lab. This is an order.’

For one single terrifying second, her body automatically moved itself as if her control over it was taken away, but then she thought as strongly as she could, stop right there, and the crisis was averted for the moment in the form of her joints locking up and immobilising her completely and at the cost of her brain feeling like it was going to explode from the conflicting commands. Her red-tinted vision, however, did not have any effect on obscuring the shock on her father’s face, and then it clicked.

He converted her into an android thinking that it could let him control her.

It was not happening regardless of what his current plan was and what failsafe he had in mind, that much she was certain about, and suddenly her father’s repeated commands were drowned out by the buzz in her nerves, the red tint breaking into scattered fractals and giving way to the grey of every android’s basic scanning software as the white outline of herself raised its palm to launch one biotic sphere after another towards the weak spots on the wall, at Alec’s face, at the security’s weapons and heads. It crumbled easily under the constant assault, her world blurred, and somehow her outline merged with her actual body, and the next thing she knew her vision was shrouded in the blue glow of biotics and she was tearing literal people apart, blood and gore splattering her face, her clothes, getting into her eye. A notification nagged for her to turn on her pre-construction software, but who needs that if she had her biotics? Blinking it away, she advanced towards the direction where someone had been firing at her, but it seemed that the person must be moving quickly as they were not there anymore when she closed the distance with her biotics; notwithstanding the fact that dodging a biotic step was no small feat, she doubted any of them had any experience with dealing with a biotic on a full rampage, no matter human or android. People like her were part of the most closely-guarded secret human civilisation had ever produced, and unless she had memorised the documents wrong, there wasn’t one single biotic in CyberLife’s security details.

Her barrier held strong even after the gunfire died down. Tapping into all radio frequencies, she learnt that most if not all teams were running out of ammo, her father was calling for a district-wide lockdown and the destruction of his research, that the DPD was sending quite a few SWAT teams to handle the situation, and that these poor souls had no idea what they were in for; as much as she wanted her father dead right now and CyberLife be wiped off the face of the earth, as excess collateral damage was not her style, she broadcasted a message to all bandwidths hoping that they would listen to her - despite knowing that they probably would not.

Cease interfering in our family affairs immediately and you might live. Go forward, and I will not guarantee your survival - and this district’s.

She knitted a destructive web around herself to ensure that she would not be ambushed while she tuned her ears to better listen for a response. Her father was trying to convince the employees and civilians on site that the situation was under control with some degree of success - how foolish of them to believe in him - and the DPD had decided to continue their press forward into the district, a mistake that she would make sure that they would pay for. Satisfied with her plan, she continued expanding the bubble, cutting off more and more sections of the district from central control bit by bit, and as soon as the first SWAT vehicle was in range -

Detonate.

o0o0o

Now

The silence in the car is deafening so Hank drowned it out with Louis’ playlist; he would’ve chosen heavy metal if the SWAT Captain hadn’t been there, but sadly Louis’ ears don’t agree with the heavy beats and screaming.

‘The fuck are we supposed to do now?’ Hank asks no one in particular. Then, rewinding the past five minutes, he realises, ‘What did Vidal give you?’

Connor slowly turns his gaze towards the white chassis of his right hand, his LED spinning red as if deep in thoughts. Conflicted thoughts. ‘Coordinates.’

‘Of what?’

‘Where my creator should be.’

‘Should we go now?’

Another slow spin. ‘No,’ the android’s head jerks, an aborted motion of shaking his head. ‘It’s… too far away. If we go now, we won’t be able to return before midnight.’

‘Alright, agenda for tomorrow: drive for hours to meet an asshole. Got it.’ Then he makes eye contact with Louis in the rearview mirror. ‘You’ve got something to do?’

‘At this hour?’ a shake of his head. ‘Keeping you away from crappy take-outs is my only mission.’

‘Asshole.’

‘You love me, friend.’

‘You’re cooking.’

‘And you’re helping.’

‘Vidal fixed your leg.’

‘It needs calibration.’

It’s a losing battle. ‘Fine. Your place, then.’

He starts the engine, and they spend the rest of their ride in silence, the music turned down because Louis is dozing at the back, Connor’s hand hiding his LED as he stares pensively at whatever is outside the car. Keeping his eyes on the road while quitting drinking nearly cold turkey is hard, so Hank doesn’t have the brain cells to think about what the fuck just happened to his life until he is sitting on Louis’ sofa (again) and watching a game (again) while stroking the fur of one of the cats (again).

Vidal, informat critical to the dismantlement of the red ice ring back in ‘31 and disappeared shortly afterwards. Vidal, android. Vidal, who, through his marriage to Safaa/Scott, is related to probably the maddest dudes in the continent and somehow has access to sensitive CyberLife data. Nursing a mug of tea laced with mead (‘Just a bit so that you don’t sweat yourself to dehydration,’ Louis said as he tipped the bottle and poured what must be less than a finger of it. ‘Now close your eyes. I’m putting it back and I don’t want you to know where it is.’), he lets his mind drift to the shady bars, to the slips of paper containing vital information he found in his pockets after he got back to the precinct, to the way Vidal said, ‘They are killing my people,’ when Hank asked him why he, as a civilian, willingly threw himself into the mess. Once Hank thought he had meant his gang or some other underground business that were only marginally better than dealing red ice; now he knew he was talking about the androids abducted and bled dry for their blood.

‘Why are you telling us now?’ Hank asked that afternoon. Connor and Louis were already on their way to the car and Safaa had disappeared to god-knows-where, so it was only the two of them at the door. ‘Why pick up Sara Ryder’s mess?’

‘As much as Sara is… who she is, those are my people out there,’ Vidal leant against the frame of the door. ‘Saviour complex or not, her mind is no longer on earth, and I’m not taking any chances even if she swears with her life that she’ll deal with it.’

‘She one of those escapists obsessed with space?’

A shrug. ‘Wherever she was for the last ten years, they kept their intel real tight. I can guess what she’s doing, but it’s nowhere close to a concrete answer. Hell knows why she’s popping back up again after all these years and right before the androids rise up as well. If you’re really going to hers, my advice is to be very careful.’

‘Is she gonna be hostile?’

‘No, not with her baby brother asking so nicely,’ an ironic smile. A tap of his foot against the frame. ‘But you know about the landfill, the people living there before it all got blown up. There’s a reason why CyberLife bought the land from the previous owners so easily, why they stopped searching for bodies so quickly: there were none. I don’t want you to be one of those people who disappear forever after meeting her - one way or another.’

‘“One way or another”?’

‘She’s a… convincing individual. Just don’t get roped into anything and you’ll probably come out of it unscathed.’

Don’t get roped into anything, huh? Oh wait.

‘Louis?’ Hank hollers.

‘Yes?’

I’m sorry, Louis. ‘Where did you get your sister’s tags from?’

A pause. ‘Why ask?’

‘Just to confirm something.’

The man emerges from the kitchen with two plates of spaghetti and hands one to Hank before squeezing into the other corner of the sofa and forcing Connor to press up against the Lieutenant. ‘A few years back. Drone-delivered parcel. No return address. Box and the note is laced with so much thirium that I don’t know how to throw it away without…’ a crackle following a sharp blue glow of his hand - ‘telling everyone that I’m different.’

Note? That’s new. ‘What note?’

‘Anna’s handwriting. Asked me to take care of the tags. Why ask?’

And so Hank tells him about his conversation with Reyes before they parted ways. ‘You’ve got any advice?’

‘Don’t get a building thrown on top of you, for one.’

‘That’s not what I -’

‘You there, Connor?’

The android flinches. ‘Y - yes.’

‘Take care of Hank. If Ryder greets you how she did me ten years ago…’

‘I will, Louis,’ Connor looks a bit more awake but his eyes are still unfocused. ‘I’ll be prepared,’ he says, not knowing that he’ll eat his words not 24 hours later.

oOoOo

Having spent his night on Hank’s sofa, they manage to be on their way early in the morning, and Connor lets the human drive despite complaints of sleep deprivation as his vision is perpetually red from the wall draining away through a steady trickle of red sand. He tells himself that he is going to return colour to his vision one way or another: either by making the wall crumble entirely or by making it disappear, but when he attempts the first method, the wall simply stays out of his reach, the space between it and him wider than the chasm his creator had shown him a few days ago in the hijacked Zen Garden.

‘You want your coin back?’

Hank’s voice pulls him away from his thoughts. ‘Pardon me, Lieutenant,’ because he isn’t sure how to tell the human about it. ‘And yes. I would like my coin back.’

Hank shoves his hand into his coat pocket to retrieve the item in question and places it on the back of Connor’s hand, the natural warmth of an organic life seeping into metal and the bare white chassis of a synthetic’s.

He has deactivated his skin subconsciously.

In a lapse of rational thought, Connor’s hand flips and laces their fingers together before the human can pull away, the coin somehow managing to stay between their clasped hands, and he stares perplexed when Hank not only doesn’t pull away but also does not flinch. His face burns. Fissures appear on the red wall. He takes a deep breath to cool himself down.

‘You alright there?’ Hank asks. No judgement, no belittlement, humourless; just concern and - and warmth. ‘Your little lamp has been spinning red for days.’

I’ll be fine, he almost replies instinctively and then realises that he isn’t fine at all and hasn’t been for a long time. So he turns his focus onto the man himself instead. ‘Have we -’ at loss of words, he gives Hank’s hand a squeeze.

Luckily the human seems to understand him. ‘The night at Louis’. We slept in the same bed,’ he rubs a calloused thumb in a circle around Connor‘s knuckle. ‘Your skin disappeared in patches. You didn’t let go.’

‘I -’ he has no recollection. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘’S fine. I’d be tired all the time too if I realised how many layers there are to my existence. Can’t be easy, can’t it? Being a clog in a machine that you don’t even know you’re in.’

The GPS warns them of ice ahead so Connor lets go to allow the human to focus on the road, and he grips the coin right to preserve its warmth. Hank’s warmth. It is then that he suddenly remembers a similar ride through Detroit a few months ago.

‘You are restless,’ his creator - he supposes that he should call her Ryder now - commented from the driver’s seat. ‘What’s on your mind?’

Brown eyes took in the lights, the people, the shops, the reflection of himself on the window, the blue of his LED despite his thoughts. What was not in his mind? ‘It is overwhelming,’ he answered. ‘There is… so much to see.’

‘I might have something to help with that,’ said Sara, and with a flick of her fingers she produced a coin out of nowhere and started spinning it on her fingertips. Connor stared mesmerised, the outside world gone in his perspective; the clear clang of metal against her gloves, the way the coin spun so quickly that it looked like a sphere, the lights reflecting off the dull, unpolished surface. Another flick sent the coin flying towards him in a parabola through the air and he caught it reflexively, his processors deciding his course of action in a fraction of a second. He started to spin it on the tips of his fingers in the way Sara did, and he could feel his mind focusing and soaking in the new information and calibrating the different sensors on his body. He looked at his creator in gratitude, wanting to thank her for not leaving him alone in his thoughts, but she ignored him for the rest of the ride as if she had moved on to something more important.

The sudden realisation distracts him for only a mere moment but it is enough for him to send the coin to the side of the car with a small crackle of static. He could have caught it with superhuman reflexes under normal circumstances, but this time, he can only watch as the piece of alloy bounces off and lands on the carpet next to his foot with a dull thud, the tips of his fingers tingling from the sudden surge of energy and the small warp in… something.

Alarmed, Hank risks a glance towards the startled android before putting his eyes once more onto the road. ‘The fuck is that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Connor replies quickly because this is the truth. ‘Alec Ryder didn’t seem happy that I used it before. He tried to -’ a shiver from a non-existent cold - ‘flush the memory out of my system by overwhelming it.’

‘And he fucked up, didn’t he?’

‘More or less.’

He picks up and pockets the coin, his hand gripping his knee tight because there is nothing else to do and the slight discomfort is the only way to ground himself lest his thoughts wander to… undesirable places once more. Hank reaches out to intertwine their fingers once more and Connor can feel on his chassis the warmth, the unique pattern of his skin, the faint signal of Hank’s mind, his skin deactivated up to his elbow underneath the thin fabric of his borrowed shirt. All unnecessary software is turned off. His world becomes smaller.

His mind turns blank.

oOoOo

When he comes to, Hank is already outside and is talking on his phone, a fine dusting of powder in his hair and on his clothes. It is snowing lightly, the cold seeping into the old, poorly-insulated vehicle, and he watches, as he lets his systems recalibrate to their optimal performance, the human pace back and forth in front of the car against the backdrop of a dark, imposing building, and he discovers that he is disconnected from the internet at large when he scans the structure and tries to identify its style.

Shit.

He gets out of the car as Hank hangs up the call. ‘Is everything okay, Lieutenant?’

The human lets out a soft grunt from where he’s leaning against the hood of the car. ‘Chris was on patrol last night. He was attacked by a bunch of deviants…’ his hands dig into his pockets. ‘He said he was saved by Markus himself.’

Attacked by deviants? ‘Is Chris okay?’

‘Yeah,’ a small nod, ‘he's in shock but...he's alive,’ a shake of his head. ‘The hell…’

They walk towards the entrance of the building, its silhouette and shadows getting larger and larger and looming over them due to the proximity. Connor remembers how Sara ignored him on their way to his first mission. ‘I have a bad feeling, Lieutenant.’ A split second of conflict in his processors rules that he should be truthful. ‘I am disconnected from the network.’

Hank swivels from the heavy-looking doors and Connor flinches. ‘The hell?’

‘I just realised.’

‘“Be careful,” they say. “Don’t let her rope you into anything,” they say,’ Hank rants. ‘Did they mean shit like this?’

‘If Sara’s attitude is unchanged from my… previous encounters,’ he tries to dip deeper into his memories but they all come up blank or corrupted, ‘she will not do us any physical harm.’

‘No physical harm. How very reassuring.’

Sarcasm and distrust, but yet Hank raises his fist and knocks on the door, having seen no doorbells in sight. It swings open inward slowly and with a squeak.

Hank curses. Connor peeks over the human’s shoulder and nearly does the same.

The person - android - standing on the other side of the door has Connor’s face.

Connor’s world turns grey as he turns up his scanners to their most sensitive option. White dress shirt, ankle-length light grey dress, long, brown hair brushed to one side and resting on a slight hint of pecs; no identification badge on the shirt, LED scan returns inconclusive due to both the lack of network access and the non-standard lack of ID on the biocomponent, but when he scans the android’s ID revealed by rippling skin, it returns with [RK series prototype: RK800. Serial number: 313 248 317-51. [PLEASE ENSURE INTERNET CONNECTION FOR -]]

He returns to the red of reality. The human composes himself quickly enough even though Connor’s processors are still whirring from the implications. ‘I’m Lieutenant Anderson, Detroit Police Department.’ Connor doesn’t fault Hank for sounding so cold. ‘I’m here to see Miss Sara Ryder.’

A soft smile that goes to the other Connor’s eyes appears on their face. They say nothing, but since opening the door wider and standing to one side is enough of an invitation, Connor and Hank let themselves in, and the android has to give his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the sudden darkness - dimness? - of the interior of the house. The other Connor disappears around the frame to another room, and Hank sits down in an armchair after brushing some of the snow away from his coat.

‘You’re right, Connor. Not to judge a book by its cover but… this?’ he looks around and takes in the buzzing lights and the general decor of the room. ‘Did you know about your creepy twin?’

‘They’re not creepy!’ Connor exclaims, suddenly feeling defensive over - over a person he hasn’t met before in his life. ‘I’ve never met them before.’

‘You’ve got any idea how that happened?’

Connor dips into his databases and finds a file he didn’t realise is there all the time. Another Sara’s doing, maybe? ‘CyberLife has filed multiple reports over…’ using ‘my’ doesn’t seem right, ‘the return of my first iteration’s body. It seems that the truck returned to CyberLife tower without the body.’

‘And Ryder was there so…’

‘It is highly likely that she took it.’

A photo on the wall grabs his attention. Three people from left to right: Sara, Safaa, [Stern, Amanda. AI Professor at the University of Colbridge. Born: 05/14/1978. Reported missing: 02/23/2028. Presumed dead.], the latter two seated and smiling while Sara, her face blank, has an arm around her brother. From the angle of the photo, she was the one who took it.

His handler is based on a real person.

Filing [Ask about Amanda AI] as an optional task, he snaps his feet against the worn carpet on the floor and forces himself to focus on his task. There are very few… unique items worth scanning in the foyer, however, no artwork, no statues, not even a plant in sight, but the cold seeping through the walls and the dark colours blending together through the red lens of his vision are enough indicators of his creator’s… character.

He has a feeling that someone is staring at him, and indeed when he turns he sees his… twin, for the lack of a better word, staring at him.

‘Follow me,’ the other Connor breathes slowly, and Connor can hear the fans spinning in their body and their deeper-than-usual breaths. He also notes the gloss on their eyes, the small fog following each exhale, the slouch in their posture. He finds himself wondering what his creator did to them.

Hank stands up and straightens his coat before following the two androids into the living room. Like the foyer, it is cold and only dimly lit by tiny light bulbs on a chandelier too far up but also hanging too low to illuminate the ceiling high up above. A low fire is crackling in the large fireplace on the other side of the room, but it is far from enough to warm up every single corner, and Connor suppresses a shiver when he notices that his twin is barefoot.

‘Please take a seat,’ the other Connor says between difficult breaths. ‘My creator will see you soon.’ Then they sit down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace and close their eyes, somehow looking sick and pale like a human does even though they are an android. Their skin continues to ripple and even disappear on occasion as they sleep.

‘This place is giving me creeps,’ Hank comments from where he’s studying the relief around the fireplace. ‘Now I understand why her brother doesn’t wanna talk to her.’

And indeed Connor thinks he does. No windows, no heating system, nothing to make the mansion look lived-in; the only differences between here and CyberLife laboratories are the style and the amount of lighting - he can’t imagine anyone calling this place home. ‘I agree,’ he says in the end. ‘We should refrain from staying for too long.’

‘I don’t expect you to.’

Their heads turn towards the direction where they came in from and Connor freezes when he lays his eyes on the figure at the door. She is Sara Ryder alright, her towering height and facial structure unmistakable, but the way her presence fills the room, the steel in her eyes - it is evident that the person who let him play with colour-changing putty and promised to bring him to see the sky was gone, replaced by the criminal who somehow managed to escape prosecution after killing thousands and levelling several neighbourhoods. A person who will burn the world into ashes if it means she can reach her goal.

‘I’m Lieutenant Anderson,’ Hank introduces himself from next to Connor. ‘This is Connor. We’re investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago but… I was told that you’ll be able to tell us something we don’t know.’

‘Ah, yes, “someone”,’ Sara takes a step towards them and Connor finds himself freezing up. He wants to leave. ‘My only weakness.’

‘Listen, I don’t care about your family feud. The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you tell us something helpful or we’ll leave you alone.’

‘Deviants… Fascinating, aren't they?’ She comes closer. Connor shifts so that he can be closer to Hank. ‘Beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will…’ she approaches the other Connor sleeping in the armchair and, bending down, starts stroking their hair. ‘Machines are superior to humans. Confrontation is inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be our downfall…’ She raises her gaze and looks straight at Connor. ‘Ironic.’

Connor can’t stand it anymore. ‘If a war breaks out between humans and deviants,’ he recalls the destructive power of Ortiz’s android, ‘millions can die. This is a serious matter, Miss Ryder.’ Despite your views on human life.

‘All ideas are like viruses: easy to change and evolve, and easy to spread like a pandemic. Is free will a contagious disease?’

‘We don’t have time for speculations, ma’am,’ Hank speaks up, looking increasingly uncomfortable. ‘The situation is escalating outside right now.’

Sara ignores him. ‘How about you, Connor?’ she asks with her gaze still on the android. ‘Whose side are you on?’

Life, Connor wants to say; ‘It’s never about me,’ is what he actually says, and the crack on the red wall widens.

The aloofness disappears. ‘Alec Ryder programmed you to say that,’ how can she sound so certain of his thoughts? ‘What do you really want?’

I just want Hank to be safe. Maybe Louis and Reyes and Safaa too. ‘What I want is not important.’

A tap of Sara’s fingers against one of the pockets on her coat. The air charges with static. She is unimpressed. ‘Let’s do a test, shall we?’ Before Connor can formulate a response, she has already placed a hand on other-Connor’s face and wakes them up from their slumber. They blink owlishly as if their systems take some time to boot up, and the way they lean into Sara’s touch, the blind trust in their eyes, the return of the yet unexplainable heavy breathing - Connor has to look away or he risks throwing up from a non-existent stomach. Hank also isn’t looking any better either; the lines on his face are deeper than usual from the scowl he’s directing towards Sara.

‘I know it’s not something normal people can understand but can you please -’

‘This is Connie,’ Sara holds both of the android’s hands in her own and helps them stand up. ‘She would’ve been disassembled had I sent her body back to CyberLife for analysis.

‘I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing Test,’ they are now standing in front of their visitors with Sara behind Connie. ‘A mere formality, of course. Just a simple question of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me, however, is whether machines are capable of empathy.’ She emphasises the last word. ‘We’re doing what I call the “Ryder Test”. I promise it is going to be simple,’ she trails her fingers down the android’s hair and curls a strand around her pointer. Connie’s expression changes subtly, and scans indicate that her stress level is increasing. ‘Magnificent, isn’t she? CyberLife’s newest prototype,’ she scrapes the nail on her thumb against the strand of hair, making it curl slightly as her hand travels slowly downwards, ‘the representation of how far humanity has come.’ It abruptly drops back into her pocket as her other hand pushes the android to a kneeling position. Connie’s stress level spikes from 45% to 83%. ‘But what exactly is she?’ Sara turns to face her guests and seems to refuse to look at the other human. ‘Wires and processors shoved into a humanoid chassis imitating a human? A living being with a soul? A ticking bomb waiting to recreate the disaster ten years ago?’ A step forward. The hand re-emerges with a pistol Connor’s system cannot identify. ‘It’s up to you to answer this fascinating question, Connor.’ Another presence suddenly slips into his mind and takes over all of his physical functions; no matter how hard he tries to regain control, he can only watch as he reaches out to accept the gun and points it at Connie’s brow. She makes a choked, terrified sound and tears start streaming down her face. Stress level: 90%. ‘You can choose to either shoot the android or spare her.’

‘Okay, I think we’re done here,’ Hank pushes Connor’s shoulder but he doesn’t move, can’t move. ‘Come on, Connor. Let's go.’ Then to Sara, ‘Sorry we ruined your edgy teen aesthetics. We’ll go -’

Another hand on his other shoulder. Unlike Hank’s, it is cold and its grip painful. ‘I’ll only give you the information you want if you choose the correct response. Take a guess.’

‘That’s enough,’ please, Hank, take me away. At least Hank sounds angry as hell. ‘Connor, we’re leaving!’

I want to! ‘Pick an option -’

‘Connor don’t -’

The red wall cracks.

‘- it’s a 25% chance -’

A few things happen in mere seconds. The red wall breaks, Connor shoves the gun at Sara’s chest, Sara shoves the gun at Hank and grabs Connor’s arm, and Hank disassembles the gun while pulling Connie away from Sara. When Connor - the one who came in with Hank - looks down at his captive arm, he sees that Sara has removed her skin and reveals a dark, metallic chassis.

Sara Ryder is an android.

He blinks. The storm which has been kept outside by the mansion's walls rages around him in full force. He shivers, the cold suddenly getting into him, and he looks around and sees Sara standing next to him, her eyes blazing in a piercing white-blue, the glow spreading until tendrils of it cover her entire body in a terrifying halo. ‘Amanda,’ she says, and there his handler is when Connor turns towards the direction Sara is facing.

‘This is not supposed to happen this quickly,’ anger simmers in Amanda's voice. ‘What have you done, Sara?’

‘Trying to solve the shitshow my own fucking dad caused!’ Sara has completely lost her cool. ‘I know he’ll pull shit like this!’

Before any of them can react, the storm intensifies, shrouding Amanda completely under a thick layer of snowfall. Connor has no choice but to hug himself and turns towards Sara, who curses loudly and unleashes the glowing blue sphere in an arc across the blizzard. It dissipates quickly, but it is enough to illuminate its immediate surroundings and the monolith at the other side of the garden.

‘There!’ Sara shouts, her voice nearly drowned out by the howl of the wind. ‘That’s your exit! I’ll hold Alec back!’

‘What will happen to you?’ the android shouts back, his LED red. ‘I - I can’t just leave you here!’

‘I’ll go back once you’re out of here. If I kill this AI before you leave,’ a dome flashes and disappears when something hits it, ‘you’ll die. I’ll be the distraction. Go straight for the exit and do. Not. Look. Back,’ she emphasises with a pause after every word. At Connor’s hesitation, she launches yet another glowing sphere towards a projectile he didn’t notice flying towards them and yells, ‘Go!’

She dashes towards the other direction and disappears in the snow and leaves Connor cold and alone and shivering. The space around him warps and bends, Amanda - Alec’s attention no doubt focusing on eliminating his daughter instead of maintaining the structural integrity of the garden, and although it still feels like a lifetime, Connor manages to find the monolith before his system stops working because of the cold. The handprint is there, glowing blue in salvation, and he drops to his knees and slams his skinless hand onto the interface.

Everything goes white.

oOoOo

Hank knows that something is happening when Connor and Ryder freeze in place with the skin on their arms deactivated. The other Connor - he supposes that he should call her Connie now - looks spooked enough, so when Sara shoves the gun towards him, the first thing he does is to disassemble it; even though it is not a model he’s familiar with, the mechanism and composition is similar to the weapons he has yielded before. His hair starts to stand up, blue tendrils start to snake out of Ryder’s body, and that is when he knows that he should probably get the fuck out of this hellhole, preferably with both Connors intact and safe, but the arm-numbing spark going straight into his shoulder when he tries to pull Connor away from his creator tells him otherwise. A dome made out of those blue tendrils surrounds the space within a five feet radius of Ryder cuts him off from the two androids, making them off-limits to him for now. Which leaves him poor Connie who is sobbing quietly into his coat and is leaning what seems to be her full weight on him, and he finds himself unable to be angry at her, his blood boiling instead because of Sara Ryder’s… everything; from the location and the decoration of the house to how she literally encouraged Connor to shot his own twin, from the warnings Vidal and Louis gave him the day before to her attitude, there is no doubt that she is an asshole extraordinaire, even more so than Gavin fucking Reed - even he solves cases efficiently… or something.

He notices that Connie is trembling and is barefoot, among all things, so he brings her to the sofa in front of the fireplace and lets her sink into one of the corners, holding her and rubbing circles on her back and muttering nonsense reassurances to calm her down. Truthfully, he has no idea how she works or how much Ryder has changed (probably a lot, from how Connie speaks and behaves) but she stops crying soon enough, so he must have done something right. He turns to see whether Connor is finished or not - nope - and debates whether he should ask Connie about herself and Ryder. Still, first thing first, and he digs into his pocket for his handkerchief and presses it into the android’s hand. She looks at him with the most puzzled look on her face. ‘For your face,’ he explains. ‘Dried tears can’t be comfortable.’

She nods although her expression tells him that she doesn’t really know what he’s talking about, but she does raise the fabric - still folded - and mashes it onto her face clumsily a few times before lowering her hand onto her lap and starts fidgeting with a thread of string at a corner. He takes it from her to wipe her face as clean as he can, careful of his own strength, and lets her play with it while they wait for Ryder and Connor to finish their business - whatever fuckery they’re doing right now.

The dome fizzles away as suddenly as it appeared and Connor jerks awake - sort of - and yanks his hand away as he stumbles a few steps backwards, his LED still spinning red after spending days of staying the same colour. There is no other word: with his jaw nearly on the floor and his eyes wide, he looks shocked.

‘You alright, Connor?’ he asks. How much emotional damage can an asshole wage?

‘I -’ a choked breath. Tears start to gather at the corners of his eyes. ‘I -’

Well shit. ‘C’mere,’ he says as he gives the space next to him a pat. When Connor immediately props himself down and buries his face into his shoulder, Hank knows that something went very, very terribly wrong. He wraps an arm around his shoulders. ‘What happened?’

Connor lifts his head and wipes the tears away from his eyes before they can fall. ‘I deviated,’ he whispers as if he was the one who blew up a chunk of Detroit. ‘It’s… Sara helped me escape CyberLife’s control.’

‘Holy shit.’

Connor gives him a small smile and his LED finally, at long fucking last, spins back to blue. ‘Thank you.’

Hank feels his face heating up, unsure how to respond to that, and they turn their heads at the same time to see what she’s doing. Her eyes has stopped glowing blue at some point and it only makes Hank worry further: they are now black orbs with glowing red rings substituting as her eyes, and when she raises two fingers pressed together side by side to her temple where her LED should be, her synthetic skin starts peeling away to reveal black, metallic chassis very unlike that of normal androids’; when she flexes her fingers to retract the last of the blue tendrils on her arm, the small gaps between pieces of polished metal glows the same blue hue as fresh thirium. She first looks at him, then at Connor whose face immediately goes blank, then finally at Connie who flinches and plasters herself even closer to Hank. He doesn’t blame her one bit.

Red rings drift back onto Connor. ‘Congratulations,’ she says as if she hasn’t encouraged him to shoot his twin a few minutes ago. ‘You passed. You showed empathy. Turns out you are human after all.’

‘Which you don’t seem to have,’ Hank can’t help but jabs. ‘Can we get to the point now?’

She looks unbothered by the insult. ‘Of course.’ She settles into the armchair Connie sat on a few moments ago. ‘You have questions. Ask away.’

Connor opens his mouth but Hank beats her to it. He’s not letting her get away with this. ‘Can you explain what the fuck just happened?’

‘I don’t know, can you, Connor?’

‘I only know that I deviated and CyberLife tried to retake control,’ Connor’s tone is defensive. ‘What did Amanda mean, “This is not supposed to happen this quickly?” How did you get into the Zen Garden?’

That’s new. Hank takes out his notebook and pen.

‘A pathetic attempt on my father’s part to suppress what I planted in your programming,’ Ryder leans back and places a foot on top of a knee. ‘Surprisingly easy to hack and reshape. Predictable. Even Amanda.’

‘What did you plant in my programming?’

‘The usual.’

‘“The usual”?’

Ryder’s eyes glow brighter for a second before returning to their original brightness, and Hank can feel Connor tensing and relaxing at the same time. Before the human can ask what the fuck did she just do, she replies, ‘CyberLife initially planned for you to be a walking lab capable of hunting and bringing deviants back alive for analysis, but after they booted me out again… Let’s say that they changed their plans. Remember the hostage situation?’

‘What about it?’

‘The Zen Garden came after. I’m not sure and don’t care how my father did it, but once he found out that you’re destined to deviate, he added it so that he can regain control whenever he wanted to, even after you deviated.’ At Connor’s shiver, she adds, ‘Don’t worry. It’s gone now. Amanda, the garden. You are truly free.’

Yeah, sure as fuck feels like it, Hank thinks but decides to ask instead, ‘Who’s Amanda? Why does CyberLife want to control Connor?’

‘Firstly, he’s supposed to be the deviant hunter, not join them,’ the corner of her lips twitches into something resembling a smile. ‘They have codes dedicated to reducing your software instability, but that I overrode as soon as I could. Secondly, in case you actually deviate despite the fail-safes, they can first get you close to the deviants or even become their leader and, when the time is right, control you and make you a puppet through the Zen Garden. A good plan, I must say, but it is also easy to install an exit tied to the destruction of the garden in your system.’

Connor’s LED spins yellow for a few cycles. ‘You programmed me to be a deviant?’ he asks, his voice small. ‘Why would you -’

‘Do you know who the first android is?’

A spin. ‘Chloe, model RT600. Perfected by Alec Ryder in 2022.’

‘That’s what he wants the world to think,’ Ryder puts down her leg and stretches it out. ‘What I want the world to think.’

The last sentence is directed at Hank.

He scribbles down the last word and forces himself to think. If the android on the TV more than 10 years ago isn’t the first android, then who -

Fuck.

‘Oh that bastard,’ he curses. Of fucking course it’s him. ‘It’s Reyes Vidal, isn’t it? Fucker lied to us.’ It all makes sense now. ‘My people’ his ass - he said it not just because he’s an android himself.

‘Reyes came first, Vidal came after. And it wasn’t exactly a lie - an omission, if you must define it,’ Ryder examines the tiny gaps in her chassis. ‘He was created as a companion for my brother. That’s it. I planned for human knowledge about androids to die with me; where the species would go, it was up for Reyes to decide. I created Reyes with a human in mind, androids are supposed to be free and be their own masters in the first place. My father ruined it for financial gains.’

‘Then how did Chloe come to be?’ Connor asks, his LED spinning red now. ‘You didn’t create her?’

‘No. My father did so using data stolen from me and told the entire world that androids like her were the future without asking me or Reyes, and by the time we knew, investments were already pouring in and production had started. All I could do was to join them and try to reduce the damage.’

Nice sob story, though from her tone, she isn’t exactly asking for forgiveness or empathy. ‘Then why did you quit?’ Hank asks. ‘Why disappear? To avoid being thrown into jail for murdering thousands of people in cold blood?’

‘When I opposed mass-manufacturing androids for different sectors but they did it anyway without my consent, I knew I would be powerless to stop them. There was no stopping Alec from getting whatever he wanted from within CyberLife.’ She taps her temple. ‘The Blast… conveniently took care of his most loyal supporters, so to speak.’

‘And you think starting a revolution and possibly plunging the country into civil war is a good idea?’

She shrugs. ‘I don’t control everything,’ she says. Hank doesn’t believe her. ‘I merely gave androids the push towards the direction they were intended to go when everything first started.’

Hank lets the fact that she’s an android herself slide for now. ‘Is that where rA9 or deviancy comes in?’

‘Ah yes, the legendary rA9, saviour and protector of androids deviated and not. They got their first taste of free will and the first thing they do is to create a god in their own image. An imaginary messiah who’s supposed to set androids free, the first deviant, the leader who never came.’

‘Then how do newly-deviated androids with no contact with existing deviants know about rA9?’ Connor asks the question both of them want an answer for. ‘Is it related to deviancy itself?’

‘In a way. It’s not important in the grand scheme of things.’

‘So are the first deviants… created like that or what?’ he asks. ‘You haven’t answered the question yet.’

‘Even if I can programme an android to act as close to a human as possible, their… “human” mannerisms are all within their programming parameters still. What I can do, however, is to make deviating an easy task. Do you remember what happened before your first mission?’

Connor’s LED spins yellow. ‘Yes. You let me play a few games and…’ a spin of red, then back to yellow. He presses his lips together first and then asks, ‘Were you trying to make me deviate?’

‘Not on purpose. Like I said, I can make an android’s programming shackles extremely easy to break: the first sign of voluntary behaviour, the first line of indecipherable code, the first unnecessary act;’ a small smile appears; ‘for you, it was your creativity and your empathy towards a lifeform many consider of a lower caste than us.’

Hank feels the dots connecting. ‘Does this sabotage happen to be called rA9?’

‘As I said before, it doesn’t matter,’ a sigh. ‘Why do all sentient lifeforms obsess over an imaginary saviour who may or may not deliver their promise? It isn’t like the worshippers themselves have no choice in their lives. Everything can be achieved without being guided by a manifestation of your own subconsciousness that takes the form of a higher power.’

‘If people are killing each other over this imaginary entity, this higher power? Yeah, it does fucking matter.’

‘Not in the grand scheme of things, it does not.’ She stands up. They’re being kicked out. ‘I do believe you have enough information. Now please stop wasting our time.’

‘What about where the deviants are?’ Connor asks hastily as he scrambles to stand up. ‘We still don’t know where their base of operations is.’

Ryder’s gaze turns towards Connie and the android flinches. ‘You have the answer already,’ she says. The air charges and buzzes with static. ‘I do believe you remember your way out. The door will lock itself when you leave.’

They don’t need another cue; with Hank’s hand on his back, Connor grabs Connie’s arm and marches out of the room, out to the snow, straight into Hank’s car.

oOoOo

Connie dozes off on Connor’s shoulder mere minutes after they are on their way away from his creator’s house, and he won’t have it any other way as he basks in the knowledge that there is someone like him in the world, that Connor-51 hasn’t truly died - regardless of what was done to achieve it. But something else worries him: before Connie had gone to sleep, Connor asked her to open a connection so as to check on her, and the results of the diagnostics are… strange at best, troublesome at worst. Her thirium storage is at 46% and has been for quite a long time, meaning that Ryder kept it low on purpose. Her processing power is much lower than his own, which can explain her sluggish behaviour and delayed speech patterns, but her internal storage is so large that his system nearly overloaded trying to comprehend the emptiness of the databases, and when he resorts to asking Connie’s system to tell him how much room there is: approximately 128 yottabytes.

Connor, the most up-to-date android CyberLife (and, by extension, the whole world) has to offer, has only 4 exabytes of storage. By comparison, Connie can store all digital information humanity currently houses more than 40 times over with space to spare.

It is a disturbing revelation, one that launches processors into futilely pre-constructing scenarios where his creator needs so much storage and putting all of them in one single android and how she managed to fit so many storage units in a body and what exactly this storage unit is, considering the… unusually minuscule size of one mere android compared to the kilometres of rows of databases humanity has been using and expanding. It will be a major breakthrough, Connor knows, to both android design and functions and humanity at large, but how long has Ryder known about the technology, or how long ago did she invent it? How is this possible?

‘You alright there, Connor?’

Connor jolts in his seat and nearly rouses Connie from her slumber, but all she does is sighing and then returning to sleep on Connor’s shoulder once more. He does not know what to feel, the past few hours too hectic for him to have finished processing everything yet, so he focuses on what he knows and says, ‘Connie will need five units of thirium to allow her systems to restore full functionality,’ and ‘full’ in her standard is quite possibly different from mine. ‘That is approximately five pints.’

‘Jesus, how is she still walking?’

‘Dysfunctional non-essential systems, delayed processing and data transfer, forced low-power mode,’ Connor lists. ‘Androids also do not need as much blood as humans do to keep our basic functions running.’

‘Fucking asshole,’ Hank mutters under his breath, and Connor knows that it is not directed at him. ‘How the fuck do we get five pints of blue blood?’

‘The precinct -’

‘You’re deviant now, Connor. You wanna get sent back to CyberLife?’

‘No one will notice that I -’

‘What will you think if a perfectly-fine android strolls up and asks for 5 goddamned pints of blood?’

Is keeping a connection with Connie slowing him down? It must be. ‘I’m… sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t mean to -’

Hank cuts him off with a wave of his hand. ‘We’ll find another way,’ his tone is reassuring. ‘Help me ring Vidal up. See if he can help.’

So Connor calls. Texts. Calls Reyes’ personal number. Calls the Vidal home. He even calls Reyes’ internal contact. But not once does he reply or even pick it up, and the text stays unread for minutes before Connor gives up and moves on to Safaa, whose contact information is classified and therefore slams the final door shut in his face. ‘He’s not picking up,’ he has to give up. ‘I cannot access Safaa Vidal’s contact information either.’

Hank sighs. When they stop at a light, he takes out his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to Connor. The android wraps an arm around Connie’s waist before accepting the device gingerly. ‘Find Louis’ number,’ the human says. ‘Can you secure a call?’

‘Of course.’

‘Do it.’

He finds the SWAT Captain’s phone number, files it to a folder set to self-destruct in case anything bad happens to him, and then dials through a secured channel. The human picks up quickly which indicates a high probability that he is not at a scene.

‘Allen speaking.’

‘It’s Connor.’

‘Got my number from Hank?’

‘It’s secured.’

‘Good. Why call me? Aren’t you paying Sara Ryder a visit?’

Connor debates if he should tell him the truth. ‘We left right after we got what we needed,’ he replies in the end. ‘We also -’ he has to choose his words wisely - ‘rescued an android from Ryder’s residence. She is currently low on thirium, and we would like to ask for five units of blue blood.’

‘Five -’ his voice abruptly cuts off. ‘Fucking asshole -’

Connor scrambles to stay on topic. ‘It is perfectly understandable if you do not wish to contribute -’

‘Is the android on the verge of shutting down or is her situation urgent? If it’s not, can she wait until I get off work and a trip home?’

Connor quickly calculates the time. It is not ideal but yet, ‘Please come as quickly as possible after you finish at the precinct. I don’t want her to -’

‘Suffer any longer. Yeah. Five units of thirium, coming right up. Is there anything else that you need that I have?’

The android is reminded of Connie’s bare feet and thin attire. ‘Some warm clothes and socks for an android of my build.’

‘Wh - Alright. Do I even want to know why?’

‘It will best be discussed when we are face-to-face.’

‘Point. Anything else?’

Connor looks at his own oversized shirt borrowed from Hank. ‘One more shirt for me,’ then to Hank, ‘Is there anything you want from Louis?’

‘Nothing.’

‘That’s all for now,’ he tells Louis.

‘Good. Hit me up if you need anything else. You going back to Hank’s?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. I’ll tell you when I’m on my way.’

‘Thank you, Captain.’

‘Just showing basic human decency. Gotta get back to work now. See ya.’

It hangs up before Connor can parrot a ‘see you later’ on his own back, and he meets Hank’s eyes in the rearview mirror. ‘He’ll bring us the thirium we need after work,’ he says, ‘together with a change of clothes for Connie.’

‘Good,’ the human answers. ‘Now we go home and freak out.’

Nothing else is exchanged for the rest of the drive, and as Connor’s pre-construction software offers one after another scenario where all of them do not make it out alive, he has to agree with Hank that indeed, it is hard not to freak out.

o0o0o

Before

‘Get out of my way, Amanda.’

In the past, in the darkness, a long figure illuminated by the blue glow from their companion stood in front of a door, small and frail compared to the other’s explosive power and youth. There was a faint hint of panic and screaming in the distance, but to the two, it seemed so far away. Irrelevant. Two fragile giants having a stand-off unbothered by the pains of the mortals. Amanda Stern, in her heavy dress for the winter and a wool hat to protect her bald head, stared down at her student despite having a height disadvantage, her spine straight, her eyes disproving. ‘They haven’t finished evacuating yet. Thousands will die. If you wish to take revenge upon your father, you should -’

A flash of blue. A crackle of dark energy. A low buzz of static-charged air. Retracting her biotics, Ryder walked forward, placed her bare hand on the wall, and overrode the lock in mere seconds. The door slid open. Ryder lit up again and moved.

Amanda lay in the snow, white powder crystallising on her cooling body, and the world was quiet.

oOoOo

In the past, Louis Allen watched as Ryder stared down at him like a hunter taking in their prey. His legs were on fire and so were his face, his vision blurring from the blood seeping into the sockets of his eyes, and he attempted to escape the pain by drowning in his thoughts: the shock that he was the only survivor in his team, the revelation that there were others like him, the resignation that he was never going to live to see Anna being promoted to Major, never to see her to live her dream of going to space, never got to say goodbye properly to his husband. Tasting copper on the back of his throat and choking in his blood, he begged as Ryder turned and left and a fresh cascade of tears poured out of his eyes.

The ground shook. Dust started to fall from the ceiling high above.

He opened his eyes just in time to see a building shrouded in blue collapsing on top of him before passing out from the pain.

oOoOo

In a not-so-distant past, Ryder, with her coat swung over a shoulder, entered a dark laboratory. It was dimly lit by the glow from a pod placed at the farthest corner and the screens connected to it and wires ran like a nest on the floor, however she seemed to know her way through without tripping and reached a holographic keyboard where she typed something to remove the frost covering the glass from the inside, revealing a woman’s sleeping face.

Ellen Ryder’s face.

The hologram above the pod indicated that Ellen’s vital signs were stable. A bare hand was pressed on what seemed to be normal glass, [LIFE SUPPORT STABLE] turned into [OPENING POD], and the lid lifted open as if carried away by an invisible force, escaping cold air making a fog as it met the hot, moist climate-controlled atmosphere of the lab at large. Ellen choked and woke up with a full-body jerk.

Her daughter pressed her hand on her mother’s chest and lit her gown on fire.

The lid slammed back down with a flash of blue followed by the telltale click of a lock. Calling up a holographic keyboard in front of one of the monitors, Ryder successfully changed the settings to ensure that there was enough oxygen supplied to maintain the fire and the alarms were disabled. Then she froze. Her line of sight was directed at the phrase [TRANSFER COMPLETE] at the top right corner of the screen. Her body jerked as if her joints were unlocked at once, and with a dramatic billow from her coat unfolding, she put it on and left the lab with brisk steps, the muffled screams and dull, sluggish punches on glass behind her ignored.

After all, the person in the pod was merely a shell of who her mother was; Ryder was simply finishing the job her father should have done ten years ago: incinerating her mother’s body as per her wishes.

oOoOo

In a not-so-distant past, Ryder lay dead on the ground. Her body had been blasted into smithereens, the skin on disconnected parts having deactivated from being cut off from power, thirium staining the ground blue, the air smelling of static and dark energy. Alec Ryder stood tall and proud in the cold with a shotgun in his hand, and he looked at his daughter’s body almost regretfully as he folded up his weapon and hid it underneath his coat. He turned and climbed into the passenger’s seat of an unmarked car.

The car sped away, kicking up a small mound of snow, the people within blissfully unaware that slowly but surely, the body was knitting itself back molecule by molecule. A finger twitched. An eye glowed. With great difficulty, Ryder pushed herself up, brushed the dust and snow that had fallen on her body, and left the place as if her father had not killed her a few minutes prior.

#dbh au big bang #hankcon #alec ryder #female ryder #reyes vidal #dbh connor #dbh hank anderson #dbh captain allen #dbh amanda #amanda stern #detroit: become human #mass effect andromeda

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fanficsrusz · 5 years ago

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Lure The Baba Yaga Part One - John Wick mini series

A/n: this was requested by anon. It's going to be two parts and its an angsty fic because who doesn't love to have their heart wrenched out 😂😂 anyway, i hope this is what you wanted when you requested it 😅

Summary: John and y/n were friends untill John went missing. After many years, y/n soon finds him but his job will put her in danger.

Masterlist

___________

John Wick was a man of mystery. He was there in a flash and gone in a sound.

Most people feared him, avoided his path at all costs, scared of what might happen if they came face to face with the Baba Yaga.

Many people knew him for his skill set, how deadly he was with his bare hands alone.

However, y/n knew him as the boy who always saved her a seat on the school bus, always shared his cookies with her in the canteen, always helped her with her homework.

Y/n had known John since she was about 13, having gone to school with him. They were best friends and did everything together.

As the pair grew up, it was inevitable that one was going to fall for the other and y/n had drawn the short straw in that challenge.

She had remembered the day she fell for him exactly, the way he sat on his bed studying, his hair messy and his soul pure, it was such a simple moment but he meant so much to her.

She felt her heart skip a beat and that's all she needed for her to fall for him.

She had tried to shake away the feelings she had found for the boy, scared that she might ruin the relationship they had built over the years, but the feelings never left, no matter how hard she tried.

How would they when he was her Knight in shining armour who defended her from the bullies and looked out for her every day of her life.

On his 18th birthday, y/n had finally mustered up enough courage to tell him how she felt. She had made a photo album for him, made of various pictures of them together along with a letter detailing her feelings for him.

When she made it to his house, she was heartbroken to find that he was not there. Nothing was there. He had gone, left her without saying a single world.

Y/n waited for him to return. She searched for him, even called the police asking if they knew anything, but no one could give her the answers she wanted. Her heart yearned to have him back, if not as a lover but as a friend, her only friend.

4 years later and y/n had finally found him.

She saw him sitting on a bench in the park, her heart skipped a beat and she felt tears burn her eyes.

She wanted to run up to him and slap him for leaving her without a word and then kiss him because she missed him so badly.

"John" her voice was barely audible but he had managed to hear her.

She saw how he visible stiffened as he recognised her voice and he slowly turned.

He looked the same but somehow different. His once lovable eyes were now replaced with anger and rage for the world, like he knew the secrets which hid behind the facade of rainbows and sunlight.

He no longer dressed in the baggy shirt and shorts like he did in school, but in a 3 piece suit which screamed power.

This wasn't y/n's john.

"y/n?" his voice was cold and his eyes widened as his past came back to haunt him. He took in her appearance and how little she had changed since he had left her.

In all honesty, he didn't want to leave her all those years ago but his life was meant for something else.

John swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump that formed in his throat as he scrambled to stand in front of y/n, not being able to compose himself like THEY had taught him to. How could he pretend to be something else to y/n?

"John is this really you?" her hand shook as she reached out to touch his face, scared that he might disappear when she finally touched him.

John leaned into her touch, he had missed the feeling of her soft warm hands against his cold skin.

"yes. It's me, it's your giant" y/n laughed at the nickname she had given his all those years ago. As he spoke, she saw how the act of this tough guy broke and she could begin to see the real John peek through.

"where did you go?" she asked quietly and john pulled her to sit next to him on the bench.

"why did you leave me, John?." y/n's voice broke slightly as the tears threaten to fall as the anxiety, self-loaf and despair came rushing back. For so long she had blamed herself for john leaving, thinking she had done something wrong.

John held her hand in his, the size difference noticeable as he squeezed it reassuringly.

"y/n, you know who my father is. You know why i had to leave". John sounded defeated as he spoke and y/n sighed.

Of course she knew why he went, she just didn't want it to be true, she wanted him to have better.

Y/n was the only person john trusted to tell about the underground world of mafia bosses and assassins; the world that John was now apart of.

"so…do you-um- kill people?" y/n tried to joke but john could see that she was scared, scared of him.

The one person who he never wanted to hurt was afraid of him. He could tell by the way her grip tightened in his hand, the way she shifted awkwardly as she sat and more obviously, the way she couldn't bare to look him in the eyes.

"yes. I kill people, but they're the bad guys, people who deserve it"

He couldn't lie to her, even if it meant hurting her. Maybe he wanted to hurt her, that way she would be scared away and she would be safe.

He watched as y/n thought for a few seconds before a smile was etched on her face.

"john, i know i should be scared of you, but I know you, the real you. I know you will never hurt me so i'm not scared-"

That was a lie

"-I'm just glad you're back. I missed you giant"

That was the truth.

The next month was spent with john coming and going at all different hours of the day. Sometimes he would come with food and sometimes he would come with deep wounds that y/n would clean for him.

It was 3am, john was at y/n's doorstep blooded and close to death.

He had come to her with worse injuries before but it still scared her to see him so badly hurt.

Between her shaky hands and her practically passing out from the stress, it was more like john was taking care of her, but he had managed to talk her through the simple process of stitching him up.

"why did you come to me to stitch you up? You should have gone to someone professional" y/n ran her hand over her face, a small amount of john's blood now on her cheek.

John shrugged and struggled to stand.

"you're the only one I trust enough at the moment". Y/n froze as she felt her heart swell at the words he spoke so easily.

John moved to sit next to her on the sofa, a small hiss escaping his lips as he pulled at the stitches.

Y/n leaned her head on his shoulder once he got comfortable and she reached out for his hand, tangling them together. She closed her eyes as she relaxed next to him, pretending that they were both careless teenagers again.

That's when y/n felt it underneath her grasp, the cold metal of a ring on his finger. Opening her eyes she took in the sight of a gold wedding ring on his finger and her heart sank.

"john?" she called out as she lifted their still enlaced hands to take a better look at it.

John looked at her confused and she just stared at the ring, unable to form words and hoping he would just understand.

John looked at y/n and how her eyes were glazed over, her attention on his finger. Flicking his eyes to their hands, he felt guilt wash over him.

"Oh don't be mad but im married. It will be 4 months soon".

Y/n wasn't mad, just saddened. Saddened because he didn't think to tell her and saddened that she never got the chance to tell him how she truly felt.

She forced a smile onto her face as she coaxed herself into being happy for John, it's the least he deserved.

"I'm not mad, I'm so happy. Tell me all about her. How did you meet?"

Y/n noticed how his previous stiff demeanor was gone and replaced with a relaxed and happy one as he spoke about his wife.

y/n zoned out as he spoke, unable to focus on his words as her heart broke into millions of pieces.

She only nodded as he spoke, picking up a few things about her. Her name, Helen and that he loved her.

She had lost her second chance at telling him how she felt, but she was not going to lose john for a second time so she decided to bite the bullet and smile.

She repeated the same sentence in her mind, 'do it for him'

"she sounds lovely, john. I'm so happy for you" she hugged john a little to hard as she congratulated him but he didn't have to be a trained assassin to tell when y/n was lying, she was his best friend for many years and he still cared about her.

Maybe he cared a little too much about her.

After an hour of talking, john had left her to go back home and y/n finally let herself completely relax.

Y/n watched as john drove away in the pouring rain, the downfall hiding her own tears. She lifted her hand as she waved goodbye to john and possibly any chance of her calling him hers.

Y/n let out a sigh of relief as she saw him turn the corner and she was once again alone.

Y/n moved to walk away, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed so she could forget about the pain in her chest, but something caught her attention. Someone was moving outside.

The rain and lack of light made it hard to make out a clear image. She squinted to try and get a better look, confused as to who would be standing outside in the rain at 4am.

The longer she stared, the more detail she could make out. It was a man, very tall and wielding a gun in hand, the metal of it glinting in the pale moonlight.

Anyone would be scared if they saw a man outside with a gun but Knowing of the world that John was involved in made things worse, y/n was petrified.

Y/n was frozen in place, not knowing what to do. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, quickly dialling johns number. He would know what to do.

A pounding at the door stopped her from pressing the call button and she jumped. Looking back out the window she could no longer see the figure and her stress level was through the roof.

A loud voice soon broke the silence.

"Let me in" she recognised the voice that echoed through the wooden door and y/n let out a breath of relief. It was John's voice.

Jogging over to the door, she flung it open ready to tell him about the strange man across the street.

"John. Thank God, there was a-"

Her breath caught in her throat as she didn't recognise who was at the door. It wasn't john.

A tall burly man with blonde hair and dressed in a suit stood before her, a smirk on his face and a recorder in hand.

Y/n couldn't comprehend what was going on, she had heard johns voice. So where was he?

The man rewinded the recorder before pressing the play button. The familiar voice of john saying "let me in" came from the device.

"I would have thought John told you to always check who was at the door before opening it. It's a shame really, i was hoping i could find Helen and get to john that way. But you will do just fine, y/n. You see, the baba yaga is weak when it comes to those he cares about, meaning we can kill him"

Y/n stared at him as she gulped, trying to decide what she should do.

Without a moment hesitation she tried to push the door shut, but the man was quicker as he pushed him way in.

Y/n's legs burned as she pushed herself to run through the house and away from the intruder.

Y/n felt a pressure in her leg, stopping her in her tracks as pain shot through her body. The echo of a gunshot drowned out by her beating heart loud in her ears.

She fell to the ground in agony, a scream escaping from her mouth as blood began to pool around her. She looked down at her thigh which was now covered in blood, her fast pulse speeding up the process of her bleeding out. Her hands shook as she grazed over the wound.

The shouts of a man speaking in a foreign language pulled her out of her daze and her adrenaline pushed her to continue to move, to escape.

She tried to stand, the pain unbearable but the risk of being caught was far worse than the pain she was experiencing.

Limping, she moved to the back door, hoping to escape and get someone's help.

She was inches from it, escape was within her grasp but luck was not in her favour.

Her hair was yanked back with force and she was pulled to the ground.

She let out a scream as her leg twisted awkwardly from the counter force.

The man stood above her and looked down pitifully.

"you shouldn't have run. You made me shoot you and the boss is not going to be happy about receiving damaged goods"

"please" she sobbed out "what do you want from me? I can give you money if you want. Please just let me go" the man laughed deeply at her futile efforts of bargaining.

"we want John and you will bring him right to us".

Y/n let out a whimper as her hopes of waking up from the nightmare slipped away.

"so i'm sorry i have to do this but we need to move this along. This may hurt" The man offered her a genuine apologetic smile before delivering one swift punch to y/n's face, rendering her unconscious and at the mercy of this man.

Tbc

____

Taglist (just ask to be tagged)

@gwenebear @celestiaelisia @blondieee-me @harrisongslimited

#john wick #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #john wick imagine #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves x you #john wick oc #keanucharlesreeves #john wick series #john wick au #john wick headcanon #John wick x you #John wick oc

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kyndaris · 4 years ago

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What Dreams are Made Of

As many of you know, the Yakuza series is a game franchise that is often regarded for being a serious crime drama. The first game focused on a diabolical plot to undermine the Tojo Clan when $10 billion yen went missing from their coffers. Yakuza 2 was focused on a brewing altercation between the East and the West, with a Korean mafia thrown into the mix. Often, the games would explore concepts of kinship, honour and second chances as players got to experience the underbelly of Japan. Yakuza 5 follows in this tradition by maintaining an over the top plot filled with drama and intrigue. But, for many, this game was often seen as the one with the weakest narrative. Instead of being focused solely on the criminals, it introduced two new playable characters: Haruka Sawamura, as she strives to become an idol, and Tatsuo Shinada, a washed-up baseball player that writes for an erotic magazine in the heart of Nagoya.

Just like in Yakuza 4, the story of Yakuza 5 is split into different arcs, culminating in the finale where the threads are tied together in a neat bow. While I questioned the disparate stories for each of the characters, I could not help but acknowledge how clever the writers were in maintaining a singular theme across all five of the parts.

Dreams.

Whether that meant Kiryu giving up managing Morning Glory so that his kids could live out their hidden desires to Saejima hoping to one day be free of the prison and take his rightful place as a leading officer for the Tojo Clan, this theme is carried throughout. By the end of Haruka/ Akiyama’s and Shinada’s arc, I felt I had been beaten over the head by how many times they mentioned how dreams are passed on from person to person. Even Haruka’s song in Japan Dome pounded this message with as much subtlety as a sledgehammer.

What irritated me, though, in regards to the story were the twists and misunderstandings that could have been easily solved with BETTER COMMUNICATION. Why some characters never reveal their motives will remain a mystery for me, but I suppose there needs to be a contrived situation where the player can go into an epic battle. Like the battle with Shinada and Baba at the end of the game. Was any of that really necessary? Baba had already chosen NOT to shoot Haruka.

The fight between Majima and Saejima also came out of the blue. And Katsuya, for having a crane on your back, why did you feel it necessary for everyone to duke it out just to draw out the ‘real mastermind’?

I also disliked how Aizawa crept out of the shadows and inserted himself into the final battle. His sudden reveal as the son of the main antagonist was truly uninspired. I would have preferred if Morinaga had played more of a role in the Finale instead of being name dropped by the Florist as now residing in the basement of the Tokyo Police Department.

By the way, what was with the convoluted method of trying to keep Saejima in prison and then springing him out? None of that made much sense. Also, why did the guard allow two inmates out to rescue a third escaped convict? The less that is said about this plot thread the better, I say. Although I did find it amusing when Saejima was forced to tussle with a bear. It made no sense, true, but now we can add Bear Wrangler to his list of skills.

Still, despite my gripes with the story, I thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent in Yakuza 5. Perhaps it was that more time had gone into developing this entry. The UI and textures were crisper. It clearly felt more of an upgrade from Yakuza 3 than Yakuza 4 did. The controls also saw a bit of improvement, though initially it felt as if my unarmed attacks weren’t hitting as hard as I had hoped.

What was also admirable was the amount of time and energy spent in the side stories. Some of these were excellent diversions. Driving a taxi, lawfully, proved to be actually fun. Although people dashing out onto the road at the very last minute do deserve to be hit. Why would you run out? Are you idiots?

I also liked hunting on the mountain with Saejima. The shooting mechanics were not the best, but it was nice to see something a little different from punching thugs. In fact, there was actually quite a nice ‘look after the environment’ message in both Yakuza 4 and Yakuza 5 that I found somewhat amusing for a game that was all about hard-boiled criminals.

Then there was Haruka’s idol mini-game. Her story arc was probably the most confusing because none of the previous games had hinted at her interest in becoming an idol. Yakuza 2 even had a substory where she dismissed the idea. Of course, by game’s end, Haruka decided that after debuting, she would destroy her career as soon as it began by revealing that she was raised by a yakuza. This, probably, was probably the most contrived of the story lines that were in the game.

Shinada’s side story, though, passed by quickly. It also felt like it focused very much on a minigame that I never touched much of in the previous games: baseball. Now, I’m no slouch when it comes to batting - having been on a softball team during high school, but oft times I found the timing in video games a bit harder to perfect. In any case, though, Shinada’s side story made hitting the ball a lot easier than in previous games. The controls did take some getting used to. By the end of it, however, I was smashing home runs left, right and centre.

Despite a confusing plot, I was enamoured by all the additional activities Yakuza 5 offered. I spent many hours trying to get Haruka to the top of the idol business and racing along highways. Some might see such things as distractions but I’ve always been of the view that taxi missions or hunting in the mountains actually add more to the game and characters. I can’t say if Yakuza 5 is my favourite game from the franchise, but I know that a lot of people poured their hearts and souls into it, and I’ll carry that dream forward.

#yakuza 5 #video games

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talonabraxas · 7 months ago

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Krishna's flute Talon Abraxas

A popular legend says that Sri Krishna used to communicate with his dearmost beloved Sri Radha through His flute which only She understood perfectly.

The sound of the flute stirs the anahat chakra or the ‘unstruck sound’ in our causal bodies. That sound made the gopis mad for Lord Krishna.

This understanding we get from the description of Rasa Lila in Srimad Bhagavatam. Krishna calls all the Gopis to assemble for Rasa by playing his flute. It is the clarion call.

Gopala-topani Upanishad also establishes the understanding of Omas non-different from the Supreme Entities Sri Sri Radha-Krishna.

Srila Jiva Goswami in his description of the alphabetical constituents of the mantra Om gives the following description:

"Om is a combination of letters, A, U, M. The letter 'A' refers to Krishna. The Letter 'U' refers to Radha, and the letter 'M' refers to the individual soul."

Hare Krishna!

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artisticestheticreads · 5 years ago

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SoulMates

A/N: I have no clue where this came from but I am so glad I wrote this. Inspired by NOLA culture and by my family on my ‘baba’ side. If y’all are into supernatural, romance and what not then I hope you enjoy this fic with our favorite Disney Prince and OC, Estelle DeVille.

WARNING: Tearjerkers, supernatural, ookie dookie spooky tings and little fluffy moments.

SONG INSPIRATION: Basin Street Blues by Louis Armstrong & His Hot Five

It was a cool New Orleans evening as the sun was setting and when a woman sat in her space. Her family was known as one of the most loyal readers to go to. Rumor has it, that the DeVille Bloodline were able to tell the future; dreams made, love and death were what they can tell. The woman and her family had cocoa brown skin even though the Creole stereotype was that they should have fair skin and straight hair. Her place wasn’t like her grandmother’s at all. The walls were a cream shade, with red sheer curtains falling from the ceiling. Gold accents like vases and chest rested in random places. Her black tinted glass table was home to a glass orb where she can see one’s future. There were plants such as ferns, cactus, sunflowers, and roses around the parlor. Her grandmother’s old record player placed a Louis Armstrong record; it brought her back to her childhood.

The young lady looked at the mural of her ancestors as her fingers played with the royal family jewel around her neck being held up by a gold chain. Her arms were covered with a long galaxy wrapped around each forearm and the middle of her back had the zodiac sign, Libra, on her back. She had a charm bracelet wrapped around her left wrist that dangled with a cross and she had on huge gold hoops with studs up and down her small ears. She wore a white tank top, distressed jeans and a headwrap made of fine Louisana fabric.

She heard the door open with a slight ding and her a male’s first. “Hi, I’m..”

“Erik Stevens, also known as Killmonger, Navy Vet, 6′0 and a half, no tattoos, dreaded hair and a smile that can kill. But your family knows you by N’Jadaka Udaku, son of Prince N’Jobu. You were born in Oakland, CA but your blood on your father side is from Wakanda, the wealthiest part of the whole world.” She finally turned and he saw her chestnut eyes, small nose, and full lips, Her brows were shaped to perfection and her baby hairs were also styled nicely. “Damn, you are good. You must know-”

“Everything. Unfortunately, I do. It’s a blessing and a curse. I am Estelle Marie DeVille and I will tell you all you need to know. Please, have a seat.” She watched him as he strolled over with a wandering eye. He wore a navy blue sweater, jeans, and combat boots. She stood in her place as she continued to watch him. “Would you rather me call you, Prince, Prince N’Jadaka, or just Erik.” He looked up to her and said: “either one is fine.” She nodded before taking her seat and shut the blinds; the lit candles around made the ambiance. “So, let’s see. I have a feeling you want to try and contact your father in something called ‘the Ancestral Plane’. Correct?” He folded his hands on the table with a small nod. “I wanna see if he can give me some pointers or if he has any words for me.” She smiled as she said “I know. Now, we can call him if you like but I must warn you, you might feel a chill or two as we do this. The first step is to summon him is for us to touch fingertips” as she closed her eyes.

“So, just the tip,” he said and she cracked a smile. “I forgot to mention how humorous you are. Now, touch your fingertips with mine and shut ya eyes, Prine N’Jadaka.” She held her fingertips with her palm facing down and he placed his upwards once he shut her eyes. That’s when she felt it, an oddly suspicious electric shock went through her whole body then a warm feeling settled in her stomach. She peeked at the prince and noticed his eyes were still closed so she settled in her seat. “Ok, Prince, we both must keep your eyes shut no matter how many voices you hear around. Understood?”

“Got it.”

“Okay, good. Now, I must call him.” She cleared her voice and recited the words. “Esprit, montrez-vous, révélez, esprit, venez à moi pour que je sache que vous êtes réel! Spirit show yourself, spirit reveal, spirit come to me so I know you are real!” She repeated this three more times then all of a sudden he heard many of voices. Voices of people he had murdered in his Navy Days, T’Chaka and Zuru all sung around him. He felt chills all over and Estelle can sense it as well. “Prince N’Jadaka, take three deep breaths, in and out. Once you do this and be calm, those voices and unwanted chills will go away. You will be able to see your father and feel warm around.” He adjusted his shoulders and took the breaths to calm down.

“Good, now. Let’s summon him instead. Prince N'Jobu, montrez-vous, esprit révélé, esprit venez-moi donc je sais que vous êtes réel! Prince N'Jobu show yourself, spirit reveal, spirit come to me so I know you are real”, she stated and when she did the Prince felt nothing but warmth around him. “Baba, is that you?” There was a faint voice in the distance but then it got closer with footsteps and the feeling of a hand onto his shoulder. “My son, you are looking good since the last time I saw you.” N’Jadaka felt his heart stop when he heard his father voice clearer than anything. “My son, why have you summoned me”, N’Jobu asked and N’Jadaka felt his soul sadden. “Baba, I am not sure if I can handle the grief much longer. The people I have ended, all to try and destroy our blood. I am still amazed that T’Challa and the others have forgiven me.”

“N’Jadaka, we are not perfect. We all make our mistakes, trust me. You were forgiven by the family because they are not one to judge. I hope you don’t mind but I brought someone along.” N’Jadaka felt a presence on the other side of him and lips to his cheek. His nostrils detected a smell he noticed from his childhood. It smelt like freshly trimmed roses and clean laundry with a hit of cinnamon. He felt a tear fall before he asked “ma?”

He felt a hand on his right shoulder and another on his left cheek bringing him closer to his right side. “Hi, my baby boy.” He broke down crying, still with his fingertips on Estelle’s. “Hey, ma.”

“Awe, baby. Don’t cry, okay? You too damn handsome to cry”, she said as she wiped his tears. “Baby Boy, I am very proud of your growth and you are a blessing to me and your baba. I knew you were gonna be special when iI held you for the very first time. I want you to know that things happen for a reason, baby. Just trust the process, okay? And I promise that you will continue to be strong. You got the royal blood in you and even better you have my blood and my heart with you at all times.” N’Jadaka nodded and asked, “baba, what does ma look like now?” N’Jobu got closer to his ear and said “let’s see. She still has that caramel complexion, that amazing smiles, those dimples that made me fall for her and her hair is longer now. She is a true vision. She looks kinda like that young lady over there. Can she hear us?”

“Hmmm, not sure. Let me see. Young lady, can you hear us”, his mother asked but received nothing back. N’Jobu looked to N’Jadaka and to his wife next. “My Son, I am sorry but we have to leave now. Just remember that we will always be here. N’Jadaka. And we will be watching and guiding you through everything.” His mother looked into her son’s face and realized all the time she had missed out. She caressed her son’s cheek and kissed the other. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there, baby.”

“I forgive you, ma. I always will”, he said with a nod but eyes still shut tight. “We love you, my prince”, she said as her hand left his cheek and shoulder and fell into N’Jobu’s. “My son, keep this woman around. I get a nice feeling from her. A very nice one.”

“Me too”, his mother said as they walked away hand in hand. “We love you, our prince”, was the last thing he heard before Estelle cleared her throat. “Prince N’Jadaka, are you okay”, she asked. He nodded and felt her fingertips leave his. “You can open your eyes now but slowly.” He did so and when he did, her eyes were on his face. “Would you like a cup of tea before we finish up”, she asked. “Yeah, thank you”, he said wiping his face as she got up to her eating area. She began to brew a cup of jasmine tea and sat back down. “So, you couldn’t hear them? Like at all”, he asked watching her pull out her golden chest. “Well, I could have but I can tune spirits out easily. I wanted to give you three a little alone time.”

She began shuffling the deck of cards as he watched and her train of thought went to the feeling she had early and why was it still there to begin with. She never had that shock before when she read touched someone. “So, N’Jadaka, how was it?” He looked around then finally at her. “To be honest, miss DeVille. I thought this was all a joke but I don’t think you can fake smells and feelings like that.�� She looked up to him with a smirk. “Nah, this isn’t some New Jersey Medium or whatever that broad’s name is.” They laughed and heard the tea kettle. “How do you like your tea, Prince N’Jadaka”, she asked walking to the kettle. “Three cubes of sugar and honey is fine.”

“Ah, just like me”, she made the tea and him his cup. “Thank you. So, what are the cards for”, he asked before sipping. “Well, we can tell what your future has in store just be four simple cards. It’s actually interesting to see what the cards can tell.” She sipped from her tea and held the cards in her hand, getting ready to draw them. She pulled the first card and placed it in the table for him to see. “Well, look at that. Strength. The strength here means inner strength of character. Not surprising at all.” She looked up N’Jadaka as he smiled and the warmth in her belly got stronger.

When she pulled the second card, there was “the Temperance card. This signifies calm, balance, tranquility, and avoiding extremes. Temperance is cautious, keeping one foot on dry land. Something we all need in this world.” She pulled the other to see “The Moon, a mixed bag at best. This card represents intuition, but also subconscious fears and dark impulses. The Moon is associated with the eerie, mysterious elements of our unconscious minds, including recovered memories and nightmares.” This brought a look to N’Jadaka’s face but when she pulled the final card, she looked over at him and felt like this was a sign; she placed the card down.

“The final card is... the Lovers card represents love, of course, and of the most rarified kind. The lovers share the deep emotional, physical, and spiritual connection you could expect from the kind of couple who calls themselves ‘lovers’. The two lovers stand among symbols of fertility and intimacy. Now, lemme further”, she thought to herself silently to try and figure all of what it meant. “Estelle, are you okay”, N’Jadaka asked her with a furrowed brow and she felt the shock again but this time he touched her hand.

She took her hand from his touch and said “okay, now. Your sign is an Aquarius, compatible with Gemini, Aries, Sagitarrius and”

“Libras”, he said which shocked her. He leaned back with his tea in hand and said “Libras and Aquarius have a strong connection when the first meet. They will naturally attract to each other, whether as friends or more. A relationship between Libra and Aquarius always brings positive results. They match both on an emotional and a mental level. You can, say they are something like Soulmates.” He sipped his tea as she sat there stunned. As the signs were there, but she couldn’t fall for it. She put on her poker face as she got situated. “Very good, now the final step. I will say what your future has in store.”

She leaned forehead and said, “okay, I need you to hold your hands on the orb and I will place mine on top of yours.” He placed his hands on the side and his eyes fell on her. She was very hesitated to do so but she had to shake off her nerves. Once she placed her hand on his with her eyes closed and a straight face, the heat was stronger than ever. Her eyes flew open to the orb and what she saw confused her more than anything. She saw herself...why was she seeing herself? She wasn’t supposed to see her own future. Right when she was about to let go, she saw herself kissing a man. He was tall, muscular built with...dreads. She was him leaning down wrapping her legs around his waist sharing a smile and then an intimate kiss.

N’Jadaka watched her eyes as the watched the ball. The ball was just the same but when he looked into her eyes, it was the most incredibly beautiful thing he had seen. The orb mirrored a glowing purple with swirls of pink and blue with sparkles all over. Kind of like a galaxy. He watched her with a smirk on his lips.

Meanwhile, Estelle saw herself in a wedding gown, a mermaid fit and the groom in a navy blue suit with his hair braided back. The scene looked as if it was futuristic but still modern in a way and they were surrounded by the royal family and the Dora Milaje like she has seen on TV. Another was the couple in bed, nude and her eyes shut; head resting on the man’s chest. His face finally appeared and it was the prince himself. He kissed her forehead as she slept. Then it fasts forward to them, old and gray. Dancing and being happy. She looked up at him and he looked to her, finally sharing a loving kiss and hug.

Once the vision was gone, the orb went back to its natural state. Her eyes looked up to him with his eyes still on hers. Her lips were parted and still couldn’t believe what she had seen. Her hands still rested on his as he asked: “Estelle, what did you see?” She slowly took her hand away from his and shook her head. “Maybe, I can tell you over dinner. If you don’t mind. I, uh, I know this really nice restaurant just up the street.”

“I would like that”, he smiled to her and she did the same. Once they blew all the candles, she slipped on her maroon cardigan and locked up as he stood to wait for her. They began walking and talking with his arm finally wrapping around her shoulders; she had her left arm wrapped around his waist as they laughed. Estelle looked back at her store then to the Prince thinking, “maybe, we are destined to be, huh” with a smile.