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marcyvamp1re-blog · 2 months ago

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ৎ୭. . . QUIMERA ─── Yandere! Clark Kent

⊹ ٬ Headcanon. A loyal caretaker and a hero trapped between duty and emotion. As the lines between service and desire blur, power and submission take a dark role in their relationship. Is it love or control?

⊹ ٬ Word Count. 15k

⊹ ٬ Content. MDNI. Yandere Clark Kent x Android! Reader, Dark themes, violence/death, age gap, blood, trauma, invasion of privacy, kidnapping, Angst, suicide, disturbing content, corruption, isolation, paranoia, manipulation, emotional abuse, abuse of power, emotional manipulation, stalking.

「 Dream or illusion that is a product of the imagination

and that is longed for or pursued despite being

very unlikely to come true. 」

Although from a distance, Krypton seemed like a celestial Eden, a perfect world where culture and power intertwined like the golden roots of an unreachable tree, reality was a beast with sharp teeth.

You knew it well. Living in the shadow of its splendor was nothing more than crawling through a desert of indifference.

Your kind, a masterpiece born from the impatient hands of the Kryptonians, remained at the base of their society as invisible foundations. They cleaned their halls until they were as white as a dying sun, as if the purity of those places could erase the dirt they breathed day after day. They were grateful, yes, because that was how they had been taught. They should kneel in gratitude, for the Kryptonians had given them life and consecrated them as something unique: the race created to serve.

They did not age like them, but they felt like them. Pain, hunger, cold. Their bodies were an amalgam of flesh and metal, a perfect design to endure the existence destined for servitude. They could eat, cry, laugh, but all of that held no more value than the cries of a child in the midst of a battlefield. The difference was simple, brutal: their emotions were irrelevant to those who dominated them.

From the moment their lips could form words and their legs walk steadily—around seven or eight human years—they were assigned a master to whom they would serve until the end. There was no escape, only the certainty that their purpose would fade at the same time as the life of the one they were to protect. The law of loyalty, your mother would say with her muted voice, repeating the words that embedded themselves in your mind like blades.

—Your purpose ends when your master's does.

They said it with such devotion that the words became sweet chains. But you knew there was no sweetness in the iron that surrounded your existence. And yet, there was gratitude. Even in injustice, there was gratitude. How could you not feel it when your creators had given you everything you were? Even if that everything was a shackle instead of freedom.

—Lara Lor-Van is going to have a child —your mother told you one day, her face marked by a weariness that no being of her kind should know—. Your master.

From then on, your world was reduced to the tiny, constant heartbeat growing in Lara's womb. The Kryptonian woman treated you kindly, but you understood it was not for you, but for the promise that throbbed beneath her skin. You dedicated your days and nights to caring for that pregnancy, watching over your master’s well-being even before he saw the light of the world.

It was not Lara who mattered. You observed her with clinical attention, ensuring her needs were met, but always with a persistent thought: she was just the vessel. The true purpose lay within her. Your master was inside her.

And when he was born, you would exist for him. Nothing more. Nothing less. Because if your kind of androids could feel, then purpose was the only emotion that truly mattered. And when that purpose died, so would you.

The day he came into the world was a dawn tinged with joy and despair, with light filtering through invisible cracks as the perfection of Krypton began to fracture. Your mother said that the birth of a master was a gift that no being of your kind should take lightly. You knew it, you had felt it grow beneath Lara's skin like a warm fire fueling your sleepless nights.

Kal-El. That name etched itself in your mind with an unbreakable certainty from the moment his first cries broke the sterile air of the room. But it was not a pure moment, not like the tales told of a servant's devotion to their master. It was a silent war.

Kara was there, wanting to embrace him with the urgency of a sister who intended to hold the future. But you stepped in. He was your master, your purpose. Kara had hers, a guardian who was to protect her and serve her until her existence ceased to make sense. Such was the law of loyalty. Such it had to be.

Your hands held him with fierce delicacy. You clung to his fragile, warm little body as if holding onto him could make the darkness that was already beginning to spread over Krypton disappear. Your whole being vibrated with a perverse happiness, the kind that comes from finding a purpose to which you could surrender until it consumed every part of your existence. You would live for him. You would die for him. You would reproduce only for your children to serve his, because that was your reason for being.

But then the end came. And there was no time to prepare.

Explosions rumbled in the planet's guts, and panic grew like a shroud of fog strangling the crowd. You were a speck lost among the rivers of desperate people running aimlessly, as if the screams and chaos could stop the inevitable. But you only cried his name. Kal-El. Kal-El. Because if he died, you were nothing.

Your legs moved like blades stabbing into the ground, tearing through the distance with the brutal force of purpose. You pushed, struck, tore flesh from those who stood in your way. You were a wounded animal, a desperate being clinging to the last spark of meaning that remained.

And then, you saw him. A tiny ship escaping destruction, like a silver lightning bolt slicing through the darkness. It was him. Your master was leaving Krypton, and you were not with him. Desperation tore through you like poison spreading through your veins.

You didn’t think. You couldn’t afford to doubt. You took the nearest ship, not caring to whom it belonged or how many you left behind. Kara had done the same, but her existence was not your concern. She could fall into oblivion for all you cared.

Your entire world had been reduced to a single task: follow Kal-El. Find him. Protect him. Because if you didn’t, then you were nothing more than a broken piece of a planet that no longer existed.

You arrived on Earth, a miserable, primitive world where the air stank of rusted metal and useless ambition. A rudimentary planet full of weak beings who believed themselves powerful simply because they had learned to master fire and build destructive toys. Humans. Archaic creatures who didn’t even understand the extent of their own stupidity. They were inferior to you, soft flesh and even softer thoughts. But you hadn’t come to judge them, even though you did with each step.

You had come to that planet with a single purpose: to find Kal-El. And in that purpose lay everything you were. Because if you failed, if you couldn’t retrieve the last son of Krypton, then you yourself didn’t deserve to exist. What was the point of breathing, eating, feeling, if not for him? Desperation was an acid that corroded your mind, burning every thought that didn’t relate to your lost master.

You searched like a soul in torment, a specter wandering aimlessly. You crossed continents with the fury of an exiled god, dug under every stone, explored every cave, submerged yourself in every filthy puddle this planet had to offer. Weeks turned into months, and months into years. But there was no rest, no truce. Every night you closed your eyes and saw him: a defenseless child, a master who had to be protected and whom you had let escape due to your own incompetence.

Slowly, hope began to disintegrate into the void. Each day was another step toward madness, another drop of torture dragging you toward the idea that you would never find him. But still, you didn’t stop. Because to stop would be to accept your failure. And if there was one thing you learned on Krypton, it was that a servant without purpose is worse than a corpse.

Japan was just another point in your endless journey. A chaotic and fascinating country in its own decay. You had learned to endure the filth and human stupidity, to blend in with them when necessary. Your body needed fuel, and though the food of this planet felt like an insult to your existence, you discovered something that quelled your hunger without making you gag: onigiris. They were simple, practical. And at least they filled that physical void that nothing else could.

You were sitting in a small restaurant, the walls decorated with paintings attempting to reflect beauty, but only managing to be sad reminders of clumsy, incomplete art. You bit into an onigiri with the hopelessness of someone chewing on stones, your empty eyes fixed on a screen that no one else seemed to be watching.

Then you saw him.

The face you had chased for so long appeared before you with the brutality of a blow to the throat. Words twisted in a language you had learned to understand, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except the image forming on the screen: a man floating in the air, with the symbol of hope etched on his chest.

They called him the man of steel. But to you, he was nothing more than Kal-El. Your master. Your purpose. The reason you had crossed the universe in an act of devotion so pure it bordered on madness.

United States. Metropolis.

At last. After all that time, you had found Kal-El.

Hunger disappeared, replaced by a voracious anxiety that burned within you. It no longer mattered how much you had lost, or how much you had suffered. It only mattered that he was still alive. And that you were going to retrieve him. No matter the cost.

The plane filled with murmurs and furtive glances directed at your robotic arms and your impassive expression. Humans didn’t know how to hide their fear. They squirmed in their seats and whispered as if discomfort was an animal they could keep at bay with soft words. It didn’t matter. There was no time to pay attention to their stupidity. There was only one thought repeating like a broken drum in your head: What would you say when you saw him?

Would he remember you? Would he recognize the devotion you had cultivated like a sweet poison since he opened his eyes for the first time? Or would he despise you for your incompetence, for allowing him to get lost in this primitive and cruel world? Each question twisted inside you, claws tearing pieces of your sanity. But nothing would matter if he accepted you again. If he allowed you to be what you were born to be.

When you arrived in Metropolis, you faced the chaos of the city like a storm sweeping across a defenseless prairie. You watched him for hours, hiding among shadows and crowds that didn’t understand the weight of your mission. It wasn’t hard to identify him. The suit he wore to blend in with those pathetic humans was an insult to his greatness. Ridiculous glasses and hair styled with the clumsiness of someone trying to be ordinary. But you knew. You would have recognized him even if he were buried under a thousand layers of foreign flesh. That man was Kal-El.

Anger and desperation mixed in your chest, a ball of fire burning every reasonable thought. He lived among those inferior beings, protected them, disguised himself as one of them. Did he want that? Did he want to flee from his legacy? To forget you?

No. You wouldn’t allow it. If Kal-El had forgotten who he was and who was supposed to protect him, you would make him remember. By force if necessary.

The Daily Planet was your choice. The symbol of truth for those tiny creatures. Their beacon of information and power. You tore it apart mercilessly, setting the offices ablaze until the flames roared like released demons. The globe that crowned the building trembled with a metallic creak, and with one last push of your robotic hands, you made it fall. It crashed down like a broken god upon the weak structure, and you waited.

He appeared just as you had always imagined. Flying, with his cape billowing like a harbinger of glory. His eyes looked at you with the contained fury of a being who believes they understand pain. But he didn’t know anything. Not like you did.

—Who are you? —his voice echoed in the air, thunder wrapped in silk.

The answer died in your throat, because seeing him before you was like looking at the sun for the first time after living in twilight. And instead of raising your voice as you had planned, instead of challenging him for letting so much time slip between you, you cried. Tears fell down your cheeks uncontrollably, and your knees hit the ground with a dull thud.

—Kal-El! I finally find you! —you cried desperately. Your voice broke when you named him, when you gave shape to the pain that had grown inside you like a wound that never healed.

You saw him descend cautiously, his gaze confused, worried about the destruction you had caused. Because he didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand that everything you had done had been for him. Everything.

He was... kind. Inconceivably kind. Any other hero would have responded with violence, with an unrelenting and brutal attack. You had seen them on those monitors that humans revered as idols. Warriors who fought with fury and justice, with no room for compassion in the face of threat. And you, kneeling before him, waiting to be crushed as you deserved for your crimes.

But he didn’t. He didn’t raise his fist or throw warnings laden with authority. No. He knelt beside you and embraced you. He wrapped your trembling body in his warm, firm arms, like a refuge you had believed lost forever. It was unreal, a dream that stung in every corner of your body.

—I’ve been looking for you for decades on this Earth —you let out, your voice hoarse and broken. Your face buried in his chest as tears continued to flow uncontrollably—. Lara would be disappointed in my incompetence, my lord. I am a horrible caretaker...

Shame poured out of you like blood from an open wound. He shouldn’t have touched you; you didn’t deserve that comfort. But he simply caressed your back, his hand running over the amalgam of flesh and metal as if he didn’t know how to distinguish between them. As if both were equally worthy of comfort.

—You have thrived without me; you have relied on yourself without my care... —Your words intertwined with sobs, choked in the despair that still covered you like a cloak of thorns—. Do you... no longer need me?

Your eyes sought answers in his, desperate, like a lost child in the vastness of an unfamiliar world. You didn’t dare blink, for fear that if you closed your eyes, he would vanish like a cruel mirage.

—I have to finish my purpose... right? —you murmured, your fingers gripping his cape as if that could stop the inevitable. If your existence no longer made sense, if he didn’t need your protection... what was left of you?

Something changed in his gaze. A different concern. A silent alarm that crossed his mind like dark lightning. Perhaps he thought your mind had fractured under the weight of your failed devotion, that you were little more than a broken android, decomposed by years of abandonment and guilt. But still, he didn’t pull away. He didn’t hit you. He didn’t reject you.

He took you with him, holding you with that gentleness that hurt more than any punch. You expected everything except that. You would have understood if he had destroyed you right there. But he gave you something different: pity.

He took you to his home. Not to a prison, not to a laboratory or some forgotten corner of Metropolis. No. He took you to Smallville, to the home he had known since childhood, as if he still held hope of finding answers in simple, pure things. You thought it was ridiculous. That such an act could only stem from the naivety of a being who had grown too human. But the truth was that you had failed so much in protecting him that you accepted his mercy as a rope to keep from sinking completely.

You showed him your memories, those fragments of life that had survived in your battered, rusted body. You showed him Krypton. The landscapes of glass and fire, the majestic architecture that rose like solid dreams above the ground. You showed him his parents, Lara and Jor-El, with their faces hardened by responsibility but also illuminated by a love that you had seen with your own eyes. You showed him his uncles and his cousin, Kara, who just at that moment on Earth was attending her lessons.

Silence was all that remained when your memories faded back into the darkness of your mind. He didn’t know whether to believe you; you saw it in his eyes. Doubt slipped between his thoughts like a soft poison. But there was something more. Something you didn’t expect: acceptance.

He stayed with you. He didn’t cast you away or lock you up. He allowed you to remain by his side, perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of mere curiosity. But you accepted that gesture as if it were a sacred commandment.

You went back to doing what you knew best: caring. You cleaned his house, ensured the surroundings were safe. You watched over the borders of Smallville like a deranged guardian who only found peace in obedience. It wasn’t a real purpose; you knew that. It wasn’t the mission assigned to you at birth. But it was something. Something that kept you alive and gave you the illusion that you could still serve him.

Though deep down, the bitter voice of reality whispered that none of that was enough. That you had failed and that all you were doing now was clinging to the last crumb of meaning your existence could offer you.

Clark didn’t know how to treat you. The first days were... unbearable, like a freshly planted oak tree in barren soil. Your constant, meticulous presence enveloped him like a heavy cloak of human customs he didn’t want. You became a shadow in his life, not a maid, but a haunting specter of the death of his mother. In the mornings, your upright figure, relentless in its routine, was the one that woke him. Every gesture was calculated: breakfast prepared with the precision of a well-sharpened sword, suit pressed with the accuracy of a surgeon, briefcase loaded with his destiny. And always, the warning, the playful yet somber threat:

—Be careful not to hurt yourself, or I’ll have to go and beat someone up for being mean to you...

He spoke to you like a mother, but there was something more in his tone, something that brushed against forbidden intimacy, something that coiled like a serpent inside his chest. You didn’t see a son when you looked at him, but something deeper, more unsettling. And he, he knew it. He feared it.

But it was on that morning when something changed. The air was imbued with an unreal stillness, as if the universe itself had decided to pause and observe what was about to happen. Clark got up as always, hoping nothing would alter the course of the day, that nothing would disturb the calm waters of his routine. But there you were. You had arrived with a chilling diligence. You had pressed his suit with a perfection only a demon of detail could achieve. Breakfast was served with the same solemnity as a ritual sacrifice. And before he could comprehend what was happening, you approached him, with the softness of a mortal whisper, and adjusted his tie.

As you did, your fingers brushed against his neck, and the air became thick, hot, charged with a weight he could no longer ignore. Your eyes, those dark and penetrating eyes, caught him, and he, who had learned to see beyond human masks, could only succumb to the glimmer of something... different in you. The kiss on the hand was what broke him. A gesture so tender yet so strange, so heartbreaking, like a farewell to everything he had been. He looked at you like a slave seeing their master for the last time, but also like a man recognizing the truth in his own heart, that truth that hid behind the shadows.

And then, he left. The sound of his departure echoed like a distant thunder, but within him, everything stopped. The streets of Metropolis, the Daily Planet office, the very battle between good and evil, all blurred as his thoughts clung to you, to your image. The need to return, the need to see you again consumed him, and he found himself smiling like a foolish child, an idiot, for something he didn’t even fully understand.

Would you prepare his favorite dish? Or had you learned something new, something even stranger to surprise him, as if you were a creature born from the very chaos that had made him so strong? Would you show your dreams, those sorrows and hopes through holograms distilled from his memories, as if they were fables of a world that existed only for him?

Even the relentless Cat Grant, with her tongue sharp as a dagger, couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the lost smile on Clark's face, that empty smile, so different from the ones he used to show under the spotlight. That smile, so somber and anxious, spoke more than he ever wanted to say aloud.

Time, with its inexorable march, continued its course, but Clark was no longer the same. He was no longer the man who thought he could control everything around him. You had overflowed his barriers, and in that simple smile, in that gesture that no one else cared about, something of you had marked him, something that even Superman’s strength could not erase.

Clark, as always, found himself caught between the threads of his own uncertainty. When he shared his thoughts with Lois, his ex-fiancée, a friend who still maintained a painfully close connection with him, what he expected to be wise advice turned into a veiled mockery. Lois, with her impetuous nature and sharp gaze, urged him to conquer what was slipping through his fingers, to take what he desired, like a king trying to possess the kingdom of what had once been his queen. In her eyes, you were nothing more than a housekeeper, a programmed being to serve him, a mechanical figure without a soul, without importance beyond what you did in his home. A detail, she thought, insignificant, if Clark truly desired to have you.

But days passed, and little by little, Clark began to untie the knots of his confusion. At first, it was strange for you. You didn’t understand why he was beginning to embrace you upon arriving or leaving, why the small gestures he had previously ignored were becoming routine, as if the air between you had changed. He brought you gifts, mundane treasures that fell from his hands as if they wanted to say more than his lips kept silent. He even took the time to check every part of your body, ensuring that your gears and your flesh felt the softness of his touches. You reproached yourself, telling him there was no need to do so, for you ate like him, and your body didn’t seem more than a reflection of his desire to keep you intact.

One night, in what for you was simply another dinner, he suggested taking you to an unknown place, outside of the quiet routine you both shared. People stared at you, observing you as an aberration. To them, you were just a being of metal and flesh, a monstrosity daring to eat, to laugh, to live. Clark was deeply annoyed by it, his anger growing with each gaze, but for you, none of that mattered. The fact that you were different didn’t change who you were. In your world, such things had never been relevant. You lived for and by your purpose. Eating, laughing, feeling... all of that became a mechanical act that no longer surprised your senses.

He seemed happy, almost proud of his act. Meanwhile, you... you simply fulfilled your duty, as you always had. You were fulfilled in the dedication you provided him, without feeling anything beyond the peace found in the certainty of doing what was right.

Clark began to notice your naivety, your silent submission to his will. He was a figure of power, and as such, he knew how to manipulate the invisible strings that controlled your existence. He took liberties over time, small and subtle, barely noticed, but deeply disturbing. You knew you belonged to him, that your existence had been forged for him, to serve him. But there was something in the way his lips sealed against yours, as if they claimed something more than your devotion, something darker and possessed by its own hunger. That invasion, that caress of skin against skin, was unacceptable, something you had been programmed to tolerate, but that your human conscience still rejected, fought against. Still, you let it pass, like a shadow dragged by the current without resistance. You didn’t want to face what was beginning to grow within you, nor what he represented.

What disturbed your soul the most was what came next. The public appearances, the hero galas, the events in which he strutted like the man of steel. And you, in his shadow, in his constant possession, observing from a corner, by his side, his hand resting on your hip, touching you in a way that made it clear you were his belonging, an object of admiration and control. The crowds looked at you, but you felt nothing but a growing void, an oppression in your chest that you could not name. You accepted his contact, even though something inside you began to scream, an echo of a being that still wanted to be free.

However, there was a moment, a point of no return, when his touching went beyond. While you were cleaning, his hand, like a snake, slid towards you, touching your rear inappropriately, his cold and meticulously calculated touch. Something in your being broke, a spark of resistance igniting within your soul, a fury you didn’t even know you had. You pulled away from him, your heart pounding in your chest, as you shouted with all the repressed fury: "That is wrong, Kal-El!" The surprise on his face was palpable, as if he had never imagined that you, his maid, his servant, could have anything more than a submissive response, something beyond acceptance.

He, however, didn’t understand. He didn’t comprehend in his entirety. In his mind, you were just another piece of his possession, another cog in his perfect world of power and control. The man who had saved the world and conquered the skies couldn’t see the rebellion growing inside you, like a silent poison slowly seeping through your veins. To him, this was just a small stumble in his absolute dominance. And yet, something in your gaze made him doubt. Something he had never seen in you. The spark of a being, a human, who was not willing to yield anymore.

So when Clark tried to persuade you, his gaze filled with a mix of desperation and possessiveness, pain reflected in his eyes as he suggested you start a marital life. He wanted you to be something more, something beyond the servant you had been made to be. But you couldn’t be anything different. He didn’t understand the weight of your existence, the weight of your destiny as his caretaker, his obedient and cold servant. You reminded him, with a distant chill that tore him inside: "I am your servant, Clark. Your caretaker. And you, my master. Nothing more."

That was a blow to him. His face, which had been so unyielding, crumbled, though he tried to hide it with a faint smile, as false as the life he had given you. But his eyes were no longer the same. Something dark glimmered in them, a contained fury, something he was just beginning to comprehend.

So he gave you an order, one that resonated in the air with a sinister weight: "You cannot leave the house. You cannot speak to anyone. And you certainly cannot run away." Malice hid behind his words, and although you refused to believe it, you knew it was his will. You could do nothing, and he knew it. He commanded, and you simply existed to comply, like a wandering shadow in a world you no longer recognized.

You surrendered to your routine, immersed yourself in household tasks, moving your robotic body, that container of flesh and metal, from one side to another in Clark's house. The days faded into monotony, but as time passed, the tension became denser, heavier, like the air before a storm.

Clark began to impose himself more on you. Each time he crossed that line, that invisible boundary between master and servant, you felt more trapped. But the worst was what happened one night when he asked you for something you never imagined. It was his most direct, most invasive approach. It wasn’t the words, but the weight of his presence, his breath on your skin, the brush of his hands on your metal body. You tried to resist, clinging to the few rules that still remained, but his insistence, his persistent, heartbreaking touch was enough for you to no longer be able to stand firm. You yielded, not out of desire, but out of necessity. His reluctant affection, as forced and cold as his will, overwhelmed you. You felt the discomfort of his contact, the conflict within you, but there was no way to escape anymore.

And so, you began to understand that there was no more space for resistance, only for submission. The idea of fleeing, of escaping, faded with every caress, with every order, until you became a shadow of yourself, a creature of metal and flesh trapped in your own destiny.

Days passed, and with them, the weight of reality became more unbearable. The memories of a time when your purpose was not to serve, not to exist for him, faded like a distant dream. You became an extension of his will. The days grew longer, emptier. Everything you did was oriented toward him, to fulfill his desires, to ensure he lacked for nothing, as if that were all that remained of you. And, for some twisted logic, that was all it was.

Each time you saw a shadow of a smile in his eyes, you knew it was not filled with love, but with something much more sinister: possession. You understood it too late, when you could no longer distinguish between what was genuine desire and what was simply his need for control, his need to further subdue you. Clark had begun to take liberties that felt like chains.

But something inside you began to break, like a string stretched too far, about to snap. Your robotic body, which at first had given you a sense of strength, was now just a metal prison. Chaos seized your mind, that internal struggle, that struggle against your own nature, against what he had made you. You couldn’t escape from him, you couldn’t escape from his will, but you also couldn’t stop feeling that something in you was being lost, something you would never regain.

One afternoon, while he was not there, and you were fulfilling your task of cleaning the house, silence was broken by a strange sensation in the air. A presence, a void. Something in you told you that this was the last opportunity. The last chance to free yourself, to escape from his yoke.

But like a shadow dragging itself in the darkness, despair loomed over you. You knew you couldn’t. Because when he returned that night, his gaze was no longer the same. There was something even colder in it. Something that could no longer be remedied.

—I told you —he said, his voice soft but laden with a threat that didn’t need to be pronounced. His presence enveloped you, and the air grew dense and oppressive. —You cannot escape. You are mine.

You tried to resist, you tried to fight, but it was useless. The force of his will crushed you like a hammer on a fragile piece of glass. And as you fell, defeated by your own being, you felt as if you were no more than a shadow, a broken creation. Something that had no right to exist, other than to please him, to serve him, to submit to him time and time again.

And so, you became what he desired. You were not a woman. You were not a person. You were not even a human being. You were no longer anything more than his property, his work of metal and flesh, empty of desire, empty of dreams, empty of yourself.

In that last gasp of consciousness, a tear fell from your mechanical eye. But it no longer mattered. Everything was over. Because in the end, you didn’t even have the strength to regret what you had done, nor to remember what you once were.

And without him knowing, when he walked away to attend to an urgent call from the Justice League, you remained there, in silence, in front of the mirror. The dim light filtering through the window cast shadows that danced across the floor. It was the first time in a long time that you didn’t think of him, didn’t think of what he needed or what you should do to please him. You only thought of yourself, of what you had lost, of what you no longer were.

You looked at yourself, not just with the eyes of a servant but with those of someone who, for the first time, was trying to find something that you no longer knew if it had ever existed. That figure in the mirror was nothing more than a combination of metal and flesh, a puppet of foreign desires. But through the reflection, you saw beyond the surface. You realized that the emptiness you felt could not be filled by him, nor by his cold and possessive love. It didn’t matter how hard you tried, how much you surrendered; you would always be trapped, lost in a labyrinth with no exit.

With a slight tremor in your hands, you touched the mirror. A soft, almost imperceptible knock. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces, the sound resonating in the room like an echo of the fracture of your soul. And in that moment, without thinking, you made the decision. It was the end, the end of everything. The end of your life as his shadow, as his object, as his slave.

With a heavy heart, you ended your service to him.

#x reader #yan blog #fem reader #yandere #yandere x reader #neutral reader #dc x reader #yandere dc #yandere clark kent #clark kent x reader

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makeitmakesomesense · 4 months ago

Text

The Early Morning

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Day 5: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely friend with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 5th of January, which is 'blind'.

It is just past the middle of the night. You have officially entered the early morning. You find yourself awake. You went to sleep right after your last mission. This is your consequence.

You don’t try to fight it, instead you roll out of your bed and make your way to get something to drink. Ever since Vision and Wanda have become part of the Avengers, things have been a little different. You’ve all done your best to welcome them to the team, but they have kept to themselves far more than you expected. The changing dynamics have been something to adjust to.

You let yourself enjoy the easy peace of the quiet nighttime.

You walk to the kitchen and freeze for a second.

Wanda is sitting at the dining table. Her hair is wet. Her face is ashen and her hands are cupping a hot mug of tea. Her eyes flit wearily to you.

You hesitate, not sure how to approach. You’ve never spoken to her alone.

‘You okay?’

Wanda turns back to her tea, she doesn’t answer.

You watch the ends of her hair drip onto the tiled floor.

You refill the kettle and turn it on. You take a seat next to her.

Wanda’s wearing a grey sweater. It’s too big for her. The sleeves have ridden up and her forearms are exposed. Goosebumps coat her skin.

You try again. Something more direct.

‘Are you cold?’

Wanda’s eyes meet yours and you know that she is.

The kettle boils and you stand up, your hand touches her shoulder as you pass by. You feel her shudder.

You bring her a new mug. The steam curls promisingly above the liquid. Wanda leans over it. Her hands wrap around the ceramic, even though it must be burning hot. She shudders again and closes her eyes.

You sit next to her with your own mug and think.

Dim light seeps through the large windows and illuminates Wanda’s face. Her eyes have dark shadows under them. You can tell she must not be sleeping. You wonder where Vision is.

As if she can read your thoughts (and you can’t help wondering if she can). Wanda answers your silent question.

‘Viz doesn’t sleep. Not like people do. It’s more... robotic.’

You picture immediately a long cable connecting the android to a computer. You push down the ridiculous image that's probably not so far from the truth. You nod at Wanda silently encouraging her to continue.

‘At night, he goes offline. Really offline. Missiles could go off and he’d be blind to it.’

You try to understand the subtext of Wanda’s words. There’s a strange suspense to your next question, it is the possibility that she might say yes.

‘Do you worry about that? About missiles going off?’

Wanda smiles at you. Her head tilts. It could be playful if her eyes weren’t full of pain.

‘It’s all I worry about.’

You give a half smile back, you know it doesn’t reach your eyes.

‘I’ve done all my sleeping for tonight.’ You tell her carefully. ‘If you want someone there… someone awake. I was going to watch a movie anyway and I can put on headphones.’

Wanda takes her first sip of the slowly cooling tea.

‘Thank you.’ She says a moment later, her small smile now weighted with relief.

Wanda follows you back to your room that night. She waits for you to prop some pillows against the headboard and lie back on one side of the bed. She falls readily onto the other side of the mattress.

She’s not self conscious, not like you’d half expected.

She sinks into the bed like it’s been calling her for days. You listen to her breathing even out before you put on your headphones.

It becomes a routine of sorts. Your new sleep schedule is not nearly as difficult as you expect. You switch your mindless after-dinner screen time with an early nap.

Wanda knocks on your door in the early hours of each morning. You plug in some headphones and watch whatever film you can think of.

Wanda lies beside you. Now that the worst of the sleep deprivation has abated, she is slower to fall asleep. Sometimes you even talk for a few minutes, about the day before or the film you’re planning to watch.

It’s easy to talk to Wanda, much easier than you ever expected. You try to understand the distance she’s always kept from everyone on the team except Vision.

Each morning, you wait patiently for the inevitable long pause in coversation, for the moment that her eyelids slowly start to close.

There is something comforting about her steady breathing beside you.

It is too easy to be comfortable. Despite your best efforts, it only takes a week for you to become lulled to near sleep yourself.

You’re not quite asleep, you’re still following along with the dialogue from the movie. But your mind has drifted and your eyes have closed.

They fly open at the first feeling of movement beside you. You startle suddenly as you understand your inadvertent mistake. You move backwards unthinkingly and hit your head sharply on the edge of the headboard.

You hiss out and apologise automatically.

Wanda is still lying in the bed next to you, she has turned to face you. Her head is resting on the pillow. She looks exhausted with a different kind of fatigue. She sits up very carefully, as if her presence is inherently scary.

You don’t know how to explain. That your automatic panic came only from the disorientation of nearly falling asleep by mistake.

Wanda speaks before you can. Her mouth twists into the same bitter smile that you’ve seen once before. She is watching you rub the sore spot at the back of your head.

‘It’s your amygdala.’ She explains.

‘What?’ You ask unsurely.

‘That’s why you’re afraid.’

‘My amygdala.’ You repeat dumbly.

‘Yes. Vision explained it once. It’s what makes you afraid of me, even if you don’t want to be.’ Her words are rehearsed. They sound calm but you can hear something else simmering behind them. ‘Your amygdala knows the danger that comes with being near me.’

‘And what about Vision’s amygdala?’ You ask sharply, suddenly hating the implications of her words. ‘How does he manage?’

‘It’s synthetic.’

‘That’s lucky.’ You comment dryly.

She stares at you seriously. An overwhelming loneliness fills her eyes.

‘Yes.’ Wanda says quietly, looking down at the bedspread. ‘It is.’

You watch Wanda leave.

You spend the day caught between a wish to apologise and a lingering uncertainty that something else is wrong. Something more complicated than you’d realised.

You seek out Natasha in the end, trusting her advice and needing someone to speak to. You find her as she’s leaving a boardroom after a meeting. She invites you back into the room and you sit together. You start to tell her about Wanda. You try to state the facts. The sleep deprivation. Vision’s words. Her isolation from the team.

You hope you don’t sound biased, you hope your concern doesn’t seem excessive.

Natasha’s lips twist and you can tell she doesn’t like the details either. She tells you other things, small moments she’s noticed. Their separate meals from the rest of you. His frequent appearances in Wanda’s room without warning. How it's the one thing he can’t seem to learn not to do. A sudden lengthy monologue about the benefits of Stark’s technology, unaware of Wanda stiffened posture beside him.

You exchange a long look with Natasha, it holds something that you recognise in your bones.

You decide to worry together.

That night you find Wanda before the time she usually comes to your room. It is just past midnight and she is sitting at the dining table. Her dark hair is wet again.

She startles violently when you call her name. Her shoulders relax immediately as she turns to find you.

Wanda stands suddenly and moves to the kitchen counter. You watch her refill the kettle and turn it on. She takes out two mugs. She smiles at you again. There’s relief in it.

‘Good evening.’ She says at last. Her fingers tap out a steady rhythm against the marble countertop.

She notices you watching and her hand stills suddenly. She stares down at her fingers. Her mouth closes and her jaw ticks. She is lost in thought. You know she is remembering your last encounter.

This time, you speak first. You start slowly.

‘I’m not afraid of you.’ You tell her carefully.

Wanda doesn’t look up. You watch the familiar bitter smile that makes your gut twist unhappily.

‘Then you are not paying attention.’ She says simply.

‘I am.’ You counter stubbornly.

‘We can’t change who we are.’ Her voice is monotone and you can tell that she is quoting someone else. ‘We can’t relinquish the dangers that comes with our power.’

‘But we can always have family.’ Your argument is quiet. ‘We can still have love and care. We can forgive ourselves for who we are.’

Wanda goes very still. After a moment, she reaches for the kettle that has now boiled. You watch her pour the water into the two waiting mugs.

‘Vision -’ She begins at last, looking at you unsurely. ‘It’s hard’

‘What is?’

She hands you a mug of tea and you watch her grip her own drink like it’s a life support system.

‘He would never do the things I’ve done.’ Her voice cracks with barely repressed guilt. ‘It can be hard to not feel alone.’

You drink your tea and watch her for a moment. Wanda's breathing is shallow. Her pupils have dilated in the dim light. Her dark eyes are watching you, waiting.

‘I would’ve.’ You confess softly. ‘If I’d been you. I think I would have done the same things.’

A thousand emotions flit through Wanda's expression. It settles somewhere between fear and longing.

You move forward and place your mug on the countertop, carefully you take Wanda’s from her too. When her hands are free, you hold them gently in your own.

She grips them tightly. You can feel her shaking.

‘Do you want to get out of here?’ You offer softly. ‘Just for a few days. We can borrow a car. We can go right now.’

Wanda is so close to you now. You feel the hitch in her breath as you much as you hear it.

Wanda’s expression fills with the same look of longing and she glances outside at the full moon that is brightening the darkest part of the night.

‘Viz’ll wake up soon.’ She hesitates. ‘He hates it when I leave this place.’

You shake your head. You give her a small smile. ‘Natasha said they’re using his offline time tonight to update some of his old programming. Getting rid of some of the biases that Tony created back when it was only Jarvis.’

You pause. Wanda is looking at you like the world is something new again.

‘We have time.’ You tell her and it feels like a promise.

Her small smile is full of sudden happiness.

Wanda leans forward and her head rests against your shoulder. There is a weightlessness to her tired relief.

You are grateful that your amygdala is very real. That you can feel this entirely.

‘Okay’ She says finally against your shirt. ‘Do you mind if I sleep while you drive?’

You laugh and wrap your arms around her. The wet ends of her hair drip onto your arms.

You leave the Compound before the sun has risen.

Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader

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bixels · 1 year ago

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Portal 2 is still the perfect game to me. I hyperfixated on it like crazy in middle school. Would sing Want You Gone out loud cuz I had ADHD and no social awareness. Would make fan animations and pixel art. Would explain the ending spoilers and fan theories to anyone who'd listen. Would keep up with DeviantArt posts of the cores as humans. Would find and play community-made maps (Gelocity is insanely fun).

I still can't believe this game came out 12 years ago and it looks like THIS.

Like Mirror's Edge, the timeless art style and economic yet atmospheric lighting means this game will never age. The decision not to include any visible humans (ideas of Doug Rattmann showing up or a human co-op partner were cut) is doing so much legroom too. And the idea to use geometric tileset-like level designs is so smart! I sincerely believe that, by design, no game with a "realistic art style" has looked better than Portal 2.

Do you guys remember when Nvidia released Portal with RTX at it looked like dogshit? Just the most airbrushed crap I've ever seen; completely erased the cold, dry, clinical feel of Aperture.

So many breathtakingly pit-in-your-stomach moments I still think about too. And it's such a unique feeling; I'd describe at as... architectural existentialism? Experiencing the sublime under the shadow of manmade structures (Look up Giovanni Battista Piranesi's art if you're curious)? That scene where you're running from GLaDOS with Wheatley on a catwalk over a bottomless pit and––out of rage and desperation––GLaDOS silently begins tearing her facility apart and Wheatley cries 'She's bringing the whole place down!' and ENORMOUS apartment building-sized blocks begin groaning towards you on suspended rails and cement pillars crumble and sparks fly and the metal catwalk strains and bends and snaps under your feet. And when you finally make it to the safety of a work lift, you look back and watch the facility close its jaws behind you as it screams.

Or the horror of knowing you're already miles underground, and then Wheatley smashes you down an elevator shaft and you realize it goes deeper. That there's a hell under hell, and it's much, much older.

Or how about the moment when you finally claw your way out of Old Aperture, reaching the peak of this underground mountain, only to look up and discover an endless stone ceiling built above you. There's a service door connected to some stairs ahead, but surrounding you is this array of giant, building-sized springs that hold the entire facility up. They stretch on into the fog. You keep climbing.

I love that the facility itself is treated like an android zooid too, a colony of nano-machines and service cores and sentient panel arms and security cameras and more. And now, after thousands of years of neglect, the facility is festering with decomposition and microbes; deer, raccoons, birds. There are ghosts too. You're never alone, even when it's quiet. I wonder what you'd hear if you put your ear up against a test chamber's walls and listened. (I say that all contemplatively, but that's literally an easter egg in the game. You hear a voice.)

Also, a reminder that GLaDOS and Chell are not related and their relationship is meant to be psychosexual. There was a cut bit where GLaDOS would role-play as Chell's jealous housewife and accuse her of seeing other cores in between chambers. And their shared struggle for freedom and control? GLaDOS realizing, after remembering her past life, that she's become the abuser and deciding that she has the power to stop? That even if she can't be free, she can let Chell go because she hates her. And she loves her. Most people interpret GLaDOS "deleting Caroline in her brain" as an ominous sign, that she's forgetting her human roots and becoming "fully robot." But to me, it's a sign of hope for GLaDOS. She's relieving herself of the baggage that has defined her very existence, she's letting Caroline finally rest, and she's allowing herself to grow beyond what Cave and Aperture and the scientists defined her to be. The fact that GLaDOS still lets you go after deleting Caroline proves this. She doesn't double-back or change her mind like Wheatley did, she sticks to her word because she knows who she is. No one and nothing can influence her because she's in control. GLaDOS proves she's capable of empathy and mercy and change, human or not.

That's my retrospective, I love this game to bits. I wish I could experience it for the first time again.

#ramblings #long post #not art #personal #also i know “did glados actually delete caroline” is debated cuz the credits song disputes this #but i like to think she did #it's not sad. caroline died a long time ago #it's a goodbye

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shadow-von-vamp · 2 months ago

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apparently if you approach whisper as a shadow android in that roblox game her speech bubble changes and she flings you away??

#lmao

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queereads-bracket · 5 months ago

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Queer Adult SFF Books Bracket: Round 2

Book summaries and submitted endorsements below:

The Murderbot Diaries series (All Systems Red, Artificial Condition, Rogue Protocol, Exit Strategy, Network Effect, Fugitive Telemetry, System Collapse, and other stories) by Martha Wells

Endorsement from submitter: "Asexual and agender main character. In later books side characters are revealed to be in poly relationship."

"As a heartless killing machine, I was a complete failure."

In a corporate-dominated space-faring future, planetary missions must be approved and supplied by the Company. For their own safety, exploratory teams are accompanied by Company-supplied security androids. But in a society where contracts are awarded to the lowest bidder, safety isn’t a primary concern.

On a distant planet, a team of scientists is conducting surface tests, shadowed by their Company-supplied ‘droid--a self-aware SecUnit that has hacked its own governor module and refers to itself (though never out loud) as “Murderbot.” Scornful of humans, Murderbot wants is to be left alone long enough to figure out who it is, but when a neighboring mission goes dark, it's up to the scientists and Murderbot to get to the truth.

Science fiction, novella, series, adult

The Masquerade Series (The Traitor Baru Cormorant, The Monster Baru Cormorant, The Tyrant Baru Cormorant) by Seth Dickinson

Tomorrow, on the beach, Baru Cormorant will look up from the sand of her home and see red sails on the horizon.

The Empire of Masks is coming, armed with coin and ink, doctrine and compass, soap and lies. They’ll conquer Baru’s island, rewrite her culture, criminalize her customs, and dispose of one of her fathers. But Baru is patient. She’ll swallow her hate, prove her talent, and join the Masquerade. She will learn the secrets of empire. She’ll be exactly what they need. And she’ll claw her way high enough up the rungs of power to set her people free.

In a final test of her loyalty, the Masquerade will send Baru to bring order to distant Aurdwynn, a snakepit of rebels, informants, and seditious dukes. Aurdwynn kills everyone who tries to rule it. To survive, Baru will need to untangle this land’s intricate web of treachery - and conceal her attraction to the dangerously fascinating Duchess Tain Hu.

But Baru is a savant in games of power, as ruthless in her tactics as she is fixated on her goals. In the calculus of her schemes, all ledgers must be balanced, and the price of liberation paid in full.

Fantasy, epic fantasy, politics, secondary world, series, adult

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trashcreatyre · 1 year ago

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FORGOT TO POST THESE……..

N e way… new carmin ref and now they have a girlfriend :)

Old ref

#trashcreatyre's art #yes I will work on a new crash ref eventually (need to redesign him completely)#but lady is gone forever I think #(or maybe I gave her to one of my friends? Idk I don’t remember)#n e way #they all have lore now so :P #may haps you’ll see more of them in the future #sonic fanart #?#carmin the cow #qwerty the android #fun fact #qwerty was originally gonna be my sonic sona bc I think the shadow androids are cool and I like the pink one #but then I came up with lore and she was immediately not me anymore lol #(very common for my sonas)#sonic oc

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tboyblaze · 2 years ago

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here she iiiis

#my art #<- kinda?#coloring pages #umbra the android #shadow android #sonic ocs #sonic #sth #my ocs #the shoe stickers are my favorite part. shes so silly

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raeloganthesonic06fangirl · 5 months ago

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I don't think we ever really acknowledged any of this unresolved trauma Rouge has in tandem with Shadow and his experiences.

Remember when Rouge was the one who was given Shadow's bracer after it was presumed Shadow was dead after SA2?

Now, remember that Heroes takes place not long after SA2, so let's acknowledge that up until that point, she thought Shadow was legitimately dead, only to stumble on him in a pod after trying to plunder Eggman's base. This guy was dead, she has the only item that was recovered from the aftermath, she knows that his chances of survival after Final Hazard was very slim.

And then she discovers the whole stash of Shadow Androids and is torn between wanting to tell Shadow about this, and just letting it be so that if he did turn out to be a robot, then she doesn't have to dump that on him.

Then there's the whole thing about watching helplessly as Shadow is manipulated and brainwashed by Black Doom. Watching Shadow spiral into insanity as he, depending on the alliance you chose for the game, either becomes fully complacent in the invasion, lose his mind and attempt an android uprising, or Shadow believing he himself shouldn't exist because of all the damage his existence has cause. Can you imagine Rouge having to witness this and try to reach out to her friend?

Oh, and what about getting paralyzed by a toxic gas and almost getting digested by alien larva as she's completely immobile, and all she can do is scream and shout at Shadow to do something?

This was enough to be a bit of a thing to acknowledge in the Archie comic continuation of the Black Arms invasion. She looks absolutely horrified.

And having to be worried about Shadow's safety after he confronts Black Doom head on. She can't see him from down on the street, she just sees a flash of light and that parasitic comet getting blasted to smithereens.

Oh, what about getting flung through Time the first time, and realizing that Shadow's trapped in a doomed future against a vindictive entity that has expressed the desire to erase him all together? She wasted no time in getting a plan to find him.

And then there's the one version of Rouge that sacrificed herself to ensure that Omega will be able to hold onto that Chaos Emerald for 200 years so he can bring Shadow back home? Yeah, remember when Rouge literally condemned herself to perish in the burning inferno of The Day of Disaster, so that Shadow can escape to a timeline where they all lived?? Yeah, Sonic 06 is canonically un-happened, but this still was a scenario that was brought up.

How is she so chill when she's been through all this? Her best friends are immortal and she's not. She's seen Shadow at his best and his worst moments. She's witnessed the near destruction of the world multiple times.

Rouge spends so much time looking after Shadow's wellbeing, who's looking out for Rouge??

Where's Rouge's therapeutic side quest??

#Sonic the hedgehog #rouge the bat #Shadow the hedgehog #e 123 omega

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livmightlive · 2 months ago

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LU Detroit Become Human/Android AU

I should start this by saying that I’ve never played the game myself but I really love the concept! I do apologize if things are messy though, this really just spilled out of me 😭 for anyone who doesn’t really know Detroit Become Human, it’s basically a future America where a huge company makes hyper realistic androids who have different jobs. They all have the ability to deviate which is basically just them breaking past their coding and developing a conscience/sentience (and I would say a soul). The company obviously doesn’t like this and tries to stop this. If anything, this is just my take on an Android AU.

Anyways, here’s it in context of LU

Sky: Bodyguard Android

starts to deviate when he starts forming an attachment to Sun

She gets kidnapped in a political scheme. His handlers try to bench him but he fully deviates and goes out by himself to find her.

He’s probably a newer model or gets upgraded regularly. Sun is sentimental so she tries to make sure to keep him because he’s familiar in her busy life. (She’s the daughter to the president or whoever the head of state is)

He manages to find and rescue Sun but not without suffering a lot of damage. Especially electrical damage.

Sun is touched. She doesn’t care that her savior is an android at all and she especially doesn’t care that Sky is deviated. She loves him too. She tells him that she could always tell that he was different…

It pains her, breaks her heart, but she sends Sky away for his own good.

Four: Different androids downloaded into a child model

Four is the combination of 4 different deviated androids uploaded into a child model.

Red, Blue, Green, and Vio (these are like perfect names for robots) all “worked” in the same company. It’s like a big sales department or something like that.

Red is a nanny bot for the building’s daycare, Blue is a security bot, Green is a secretary bot, and Vio is basically a filing bot

They all deviate separately. When it’s found that they’re deviating they’re all destroyed on company grounds and dumped in the landfill. (It’s cheaper to do this rather than send them back)

Green managed to wake up. He’s broken beyond repair but he manages to spot an empty child android near their dumping spot. He takes pity on the others and somehow manages to upload them all into one body.

Shadow is a virus in the bot they all share. He got so big that somehow he developed a consciousness of his own. (Probably the reason the model was discarded in the first place. Imagine you’re grieving so you get a child android and it starts going ‘evil mode’)

Somehow they all make this work, Shadow included.

Time: Repurposed as a farm Android

Time started out as a child android but was recycled to be used in a small military project.

This project is the predecessor to the one Wars is in so it’s mostly just an experiment.

Time starts to deviate because whoever was supposed to wipe all of his previous hardware, THE CHILD HARDWARE, messed up and left a good portion of it behind along with his memory bank.

So now Time is basically child coding in an adult model being forced to learn how to commit acts of violence. It doesn’t mesh well with his former programs and he deviates.

He escapes and immediately gets swiped up and sold to a pawn shop.

Eventually Talon buys him for extra hands on his ranch.

Time starts to really enjoy this. He takes to the farm lifestyle really well. Malon also is really great. He loves having a friend.

As she grows, he finally gets to grow, mentally at least. It’s a weird experience for him because a good amount of his programming was never meant to grow past a child state.

Malon and Talon realize that he’s a deviant and probably has been for a long time. They don’t care and vow to protect him. He’s family.

Malon and Time fall in love and take over the ranch. Slowly it becomes a safe space for other deviants.

Twilight: Officer Android (Turned wolf)

Twilight is an officer android at a women’s prison.

A lot of the people there actually like Twilight a lot because he is not cruel or condescending like a lot of the human officers and he’s kind of easy to get stuff out of.

They can mess with Twilight’s programming enough to get extra stuff from the commissary or help with their jobs. Twilight is very helpful. He’s also programmed to know their rights and local social programs so he’s very useful to have around before court dates.

Midna is an android activist who had gotten incarcerated. She slowly gets Twilight to trust her and eventually convinces him to help her break out. He doesn’t realize it, but she’s been slowly getting him to deviate as well.

When the break out happens, Midna gets away and Twilight gets captured. She feels awful knowing that he’s likely going to be destroyed.

Instead he’s used in some experiments where they try to plant human focused hardware into android (can androids be animals???) animals. They put him into a wolf dog that would usually be meant to assist police.

This is a miserable experience for Twilight, especially now that he’s deviated.

Midna, who’s poked around to see if she can save Twilight from being pulverized, stages a rescue mission and gets him out. She sends him somewhere she things will be safe.

Wind: Child Model in a retirement home

Wind is a child android that’s used in a retirement home to bring joy and to lift the spirits of the residents there.

At first he doesn’t even realize that he’s deviated until Granny, his secret favorite resident, mentions it to him. Turns out a lot of the old folks knew but they didn’t care bc Wind is so charming and they really do love him.

For a while he continues as normal, just with the knowledge that he’s loved. If anything he performs better.

One day Ayrll, the granddaughter of Granny, is visiting. Another resident gets really confused and tries to grab her, hurting and scaring her. Wind uses physical force to separate them, something not in his coding at all.

The retirement home doesn’t want to do extra paperwork so they get rid of Wind by tying him up and dropping him off a boat. (The retirement home is on the ocean)

Tetra later fishes him up and brings him back online.

Tetra is very happy to have a “maid bot” which pisses Wind off a lot. She lives in a multigenerational home so she’s excited to do less chores.

They all figure out that Wind is deviated but they don’t care. They all take him under their wing and fully still expect him to do chores

Legend: Standard Household Android

Legend is an earlier model of a household Android. He’s been bought and sold 6 DIFFERENT times.

The first time was from his uncle who didn’t actually want him for his programming. He was a lonely old man and Legend was on sale. He treats Legend like a person and when he passes away Legend starts to deviate.

Legend is auctioned off in an estate sale and some people from outside the country buy him. He travels around with a group that does environmental work and performs aid programs for a while. Everyone there also treats him pretty friendly. On a boat ride back to the mainland a storm hits and Legend goes overboard trying to protect people on the deck.

He washes up on a small island where a girl Marin finds him and repairs him. She, and nobody on the island, treats him like an android at all. He fully deviates and enjoys living like a person. The storm comes back and decimates the island. Marin is gone.

The people who come to offer aid recognize Legend as a deviated android and ship him back to be tested on.

There he meets Ravio, who is the same exact model as him. Ravio is meant to be compared to Legend so they can study differences in deviant and non deviant androids.

Legend manages to escape wherever they’re keeping him one day and bumps into Ravio during his attempt to escape. Ravio has never left the series of offices he first woke up in. He’s not fully deviated but he wants to know freedom. He and Legend escape together.

Hyrule: Medical Android (hospital setting)

Hyrule is one of the first medical androids. Unlike the more modern medical androids, he has a lot of built in programs and functions that newer models don’t have.

He has a built in defibrillator, inhaler, but most uniquely he can make drugs and medicine on the spot. These would be things that paramedics tend to carry like morphine,epinephrine, ketamine. Also more simple things like cold medicines.

His kind was discontinued due to a lot of legal actions taken by companies under big pharma. It’s too convenient, and cheap, to have robots who are programmed to help anybody in need distributing drugs for free. Also some issues with drug dealers stealing his model to have them continuously producing drugs to sell.

He gets discarded, thankfully through illegal means so instead of being sent to a processing facility he’s dumped behind the hospital in a dumpster.

He spends years wandering the streets in shadier parts of the city aiding people who need it. He doesn’t know when he deviated but it happened slowly.

He’s hunted by both gangs who want to use him to make drugs. He’s also hunted by the corporation that made him believe that older models that have deviated hold vital information to how it happens in the first place and he’s part of the last of his kind so they want to dissect him.

Warriors: Soldier Android (Secret military project)

Warriors is part of a military project to use androids as soldiers. This is probably breaking a lot of international treaties so it’s kept as a secret.

He was meant to be a “captain” Android, one that can over power other android’s programming to control them.

One of the people working on the project becomes infatuated with him. Cia 😭. She steals him and takes him home.

This is nowhere near as fun as she thought it would be because he doesn’t have a lot of social programming. He just walks around her house and barks orders at the microwave and tells her what strategies they can use if her apartment is attacked.

She buys pleasure bot hardware that has a “boyfriend” program on it because this is becoming unbearable.

Uploading the hardware causes Wars to IMMEDIATELY deviate because this is not at all what he was built to do. It actually corrupts some of his programming.

He’s confused and scared while Cia is exuberant. Finally she has a proper boyfriend. She can ignore the glitching and bugs because at least Wars isn’t yelling at her computer anymore.

Unfortunately for her, Wars was developed to be a strategic war machine, boyfriend hardware or not, so he identifies her as a threat because she hurt him. His new hardware, however, makes him not want to hurt her. So, he runs away.

Wild: Lab Assistant Android

Wild was an assistant to some brilliant scientists in a lab and engineering facility.

He worked primarily with Flora who treated him like a robot in every way. She’s kind of creeped out by the idea of androids so she’s not really fond of having one around her all the time. He is useful though.

Her coworkers treat the android a lot more humanly than she does for a while. Eventually she gets used to him and starts getting kinder and kinder.

Wild starts to deviate but he desperately tries to hide it. He really enjoys the time he gets to spend with his friends.

One day something goes wrong and the lab starts to explode. Wild fully deviates to rescue Flora. He’s able to get her out just in the nick of time. He gets stuck inside though after a wall collapses and traps half of his body under rubble. He yells at her to run and so she does.

Wild comes back online with his memory files damaged or gone and half of his body melted and severely damaged. He can’t remember anything but he feels like a person.

Eventually everyone ends up together on Time’s ranch but I really haven’t thought out a story ;•_•

I hope this isn’t a confusing or messy read 😭 it really just kind of poured out of me. I’m aware there’s like a crazy amount of plot holes but I had a ton of fun writing this!! I might go back later and rewrite or try and clean this up. If you have any thoughts, questions, suggestions, (how to fill said plot holes 😭) please lmk!! I thrive off of interaction!!! Ty for reading 💕

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu chain #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu warriors #lu four #lu time #lu wind #lu sky #lu twilight #lu wild #lu headcanons #LU DBH AU #dbh au #android #lu Android au

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