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angellurgy2 · 4 months ago

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Hiveship

hii! this is the 1st and 2nd chapter of my new story, as a little show of whats to come when i make it a full-length book.

cw for bug rape but like, its also just an introduction to deeper non/sexual ways the bugs will destroy this girl's soul. you'll see!

i'd appreciate if people checked this out/gassed it up because i've worked reallyyy hard on this for a bit ^-^

CHAPTER 1

A live wire sparks as loretta reaches a gloved claw inside the open electrical box, her digits blunted by her heavily plated and padded, alabaster white cosmonaut suit. she roots around the active electricity, scraping out chunks of the greenish-brown sludge growing in its crevices- the same mysterious viscous slime that’s been popping up in parts across her starship over and over the past few weeks. her theories ranged from an excremetal expulsion of an unidentified space object, to some disgraceful cosmonaut’s trash finding its way into her ship’s vents.

she clicks the button for the analyzing tool of her protective visor, closely examining the fluid. long thin wires splay across all sections of the large junction, leaving burning hot indents in the thick substances that feel like way too much of a fire risk. looking at the wires, spread out in patterned parallels like gigantic spider-webs, an anxious tinge of fear strikes her. don’t fall in, don’t get caught- robots don’t need any more prey. not that you’re prey. you aren’t.

she flicks her visor back off, worried her sweat might fog up the the visor, and continues swiping the rest of the gunk into a bin.

all clean, she fixes the fuses back into place before immediately making her way back over to the equipment corridor to hang up her suit. on the way she passes vibrant posters of mechanical cross-section diagrams, detailed anatomy drawings of every variety of species she could scavenge, and historical propaganda posters. it was a nice splash of existence inside a clinical minimalist coating.

lounging in the cabin suite on her sofa, she flips her state-provided entertainment console to the galactic news. on-screen a suited, pristine looking woman takes the centre stage behind a stretched out desk. her voice is calm and analytical, with a hint of soft sympathy that can’t be hidden no matter how hard of a professional facade they must put on.

“News from the pandora planets have finally reached the internal core, revealing devastating effects of the latest assault campaign from the exoskeletal hives, multiple colonies’ messengers have reported complete razing of ground and sub-ground infrastructure, with several not appearing for the census at all. the URSS military and all commune bioships have retreated back to pantheon-V for rehabitation before a pandora counter-takeover can be attempted.”

Loretta shudders. the exoskeletals have been advancing deeper into URSS territory much faster than ever before, the fact that the state hasn’t been able to put a stop to it—and that the threat has only gotten more aggressive—makes sweat begin to pour down her head. if she was doing a term with the forces or part of a commune science crew she’d probably be worried for her life right now. thankfully, her ship was currently flying safely in one of the middle systems, relaxing in orbit of an abandoned desert world after recently coming back from a call of excursion to the outer worlds. she always enjoyed the quiet of minimal space travel and the utter lack of civilization when she gazed down upon a world, so this has been her favourite spot to reside for a long while. from the cabin module’s glass wall she can see such stark vistas of sandy mountain ranges, demarcating the most beautiful fields of gigantic outstretching spiny cactus.

with a loud buzz the tv automatically switches to the nightly Sallite news segment, where they broadcast the most important of state propaganda to every television set at 8pm local time. with an exasperated sigh she turns the volume all the way down to 1, takes off her grey tank, and throws herself into her cushioney bed. a switch on the wall next to the alloy headboard turns on the room’s surround sound to a soft pitter of forested rainfall, and she falls asleep in a matter of seconds.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Loretta awakes to the foreign sound of a sloppy wriggling near the floor by the end of her bed. jerking upright, she quickly slides into the suit boots she had laid at the side of her bed, strapping them tight, and moves to examine the intruder.

a pulsating green slime slides itself across the floor, leaving a small trail of slightly transparent lime goo behind it. loretta kneels to look at it closer. she could swear it’s looking right back at her- though without any obvious eyes or features of its own. it excretes another loud squelching sound and fires off a copper-smelling mist around it, some of which sprays directly into loretta’s face causing her to wince and tear up at the dense cloud of smell. she reflexively slams her booted heel down into the creature, stomping through its gelatinous body.

she attempts to swiftly scrape the thing off her heel,, but the flattened slime spreads to encase her entire boot before she can even look down at it. when she does, she sees sticky lime green half-translucent goo coating the suit metal like adhesive, excreting a slight burning odour. loretta throws her leg around trying to eject the subject, but only manages to trip over herself, tumbling to the thick panelled floor with a resounding thud.

on her back she watches with wide terrified eyes as the slime continues to slowly expand up her limb. it should be stretching itself out fully by now, but it seems to have an infinite amount of mass to express over her. some kind of anomalous entity from deep space? but how would it have gotten this deep into the middle systems? a new wormhole would’ve been reported immediately, and the nearest systems are all too well-inhabited. the gears turn in her head, clearly rusted over, struggling to think of a potential scientific hypothesis. by the time she breaks out of her clouded monologue and thinks to stop analyzing, the slime has already subsumed her entire left leg, grasping spreading tiny green tendrils grappling for the next part, which is fully uncovered by the comforting protection of the URSS engineer corps. she struggles to force herself away by clawing into the floor, but the slime seems to have extra weight to pin her leg down. such a little creature, overpowering her so easily- it must be alien. she doesn’t stop struggling even if it pins her utterly. if she could just get to the corner and grab her piece she could-

her scrabbling eyes find themselves staring at the cabin’s ceiling vent. a thick bile-like grey sludge seeps down from the cracks, forcing her to hurry. loretta shoves her hand into the green slime against her better judgement, trying to peel it off like one of her mother’s gelatin molds. her hands try to slide underneath it but they find themselves struggling to push against an unmovable solid, far away from the gravyesque consistency it had before. then she feels her legs, or rather, feels the lack of feeling of her legs. when she tries to move them, she cant even muster a shake, lower half pinned to the floor, not even pins or needles remaining. it doesn’t stop her relentless pushing and attempts to pull herself out by her arms, but she might as well be an amputee at this point. like one of those UOA prisoners of war from back in the day, laser neutered to be nothing but working hands for the Authority’s machines.

unable to get away from the oncoming deluge, lorreta realizes it must be relent or die. and so she does, shutting her eyes tight and curling her lips inward together like the anti-parasitites’ studies have taught her. though this wasn’t the typical annalidesque parasite commonly found in the outer cosmos, or a parasite at all for all she knows, it’s the best her dizzy mind can handle. and as she feels the sludge’s drip touch down on her estrogenated skin, it succeeds in helping stop it from flowing inside her eyes. she can feel it coat the skin tight, like a face mask but smelling of wood and suffocating and lively probing at her pores, blocking her vision black with its opaque body.

the sludge now dispensed, loretta senses a chance and attempts to pry the mask off of her. blindly groping for a free spot by her neck and sliding her unkempt nails under it and into the disgusting goo. it feels like a cadaver from anatomy class under her fingers, diving into the fat and peeling away the outer layer. but this corpse has undergone rigor mortis, and loretta’s attempts to peel it off go only slightly better than with the green thing, lifting an inch before it slaps itself back on even tighter. her second attempt goes even worse, her arms starting to feel numb and anaesthetized. she lifts her arms to fight but she cant feel the texture of what she touches anymore, and then the viral limpness travels to the rest of her motor function, and they flop uselessly at her sides. no part of her body responding to her brains frenzied orders to move, the most she can do is flail inside.

she pictures Andromeda-ZE in her mind’s eye, emotionally travelling to the place she spent most her childhood. she’s running through the market, the most well-known place in the capital, excitedly waving at family friends and commune teachers like she’s a kid again, so happy, so free, so ignorant. red and yellow and orange colours shine bright on the market stalls, sand and wood structures stand beautifully tall around her, everything is even more beautiful than it was when she was young. the wind on her cheeks as she runs makes her glow with a safety she doesn’t feel in the atmospheric void in space. not far ahead she spots her unit hut, and ramps up her speed. in a minute of invigorating sprint, she makes it to the large aspen door, knocking 5 times. she hears several light footsteps trot up and bounces with excitement. the door slowly creeps open…

and a hulking nurse bug towers over her. its mandibles chitter, the egg sack on its back wiggles, and its claws rub together in front of its chest. she looks into the creature’s eyes and sees a thousand mirrors staring back at her. she screams muffled into the slime gag, jolting away from the colour behind her eyelids, and back into the void in front of them. instead of trying to push inside like loretta assumed, the sludge begins to creep into the part of her eye socket above her lids, pushing with prying hair-like digits. her heart cramps, and she can feel her heavy perspiration being immediately absorbed by the material the second it drips. she doesn’t want to close her eyes, doesn’t want to see the bugs that close again- the spindling inner legs, the slimey chitin, vision of swarms of exoskeletals charging her squad flash through her, all she wants to do is scream but all it does is wear out the last muscles she can work. but she can’t stop, she wails banshily, reverberating in her own skulll. and then she can’t manage to hold her eyes open any longer.

the jointed arthropod returns, fully subsuming her soul.

“it’s okay, sweet darling Lore, we are here now” it speaks in her mothers voice. sweet and soothing.

CHAPTER 2

loretta wakes up in a stasis vat, her body floating in air like oil. green biofluid drenches her skin, manufactured nutrients flooding her organs, keeping her fed and stable. she smiles, thinking back to her first spacewalk, bounding into the open cosmos with footless steps. she kicks her foot up, sending herself into an airy backflip. her mouth opens on its own and takes in a load of the fluid. it tastes like the earth pineapples her mothers would trade for on her birthdays. she has to figure out what this is when she’s out of here. and by the looks of her motor functions, she’ll be out of this in no time.

* * *

she awakes groggily inside of another vat. there’s no more fluid, but something similar sticks to every inch of her skin. the walls of steel have turned into a coffinesque cocoon, fleshy and aboreal brown and wriggling with her movements. yet as she attempts to push herself backwards, her hands still find themselves scraping cold metal. she sees how some light manages to seep through the cracks of the chitinous chamber, and prods at the squishy folds where the tiny glowing rays strike, poking through an inch or two of foreign flesh before her fingertips feel air. bio vat? or some sort of.. metamorphosis chamber? she can’t remember how she got here, or when she signed up for such a procedure. she needs to find someone before she gets stuck. she lifts her moist lips to one of the little holes and screams out a plea for help. she manages to fit another finger out, and begins trying to spread open the breach when she’s stopped by someone’s cold fingers pulling hers. one of the scientists, or guards?

the person outside pulls on loretta’s hand hard and she feels her light body raise up to the roof of her confines. despite her reaching the walls, they keep going, tugging forcing painful friction between her bare limbs and the meaty hide. in a few short, supernatural pulls she is burst through the sac entirely, getting to see chunks of what appears to be sinew and slime splattering the surroundings as she flies through antigravital space and crashes hard into a familiar wall.

HISSSSSSSTHH

innumerous spindly brown limbs bringing fading memories of phasmid anatomy charts stretch out across the polished floor and walls now brutally scattered with keepsake and furniture debris, looking like abstract blobs in loretta’s slime coated vision. blobs which are constantly being absorbed upwards into the air by twitchy movements. loretta grasps at the wall behind her, pulling herself away from the enormous creature.

slamming into the far wall, she attempts to reach for where her dresser should be, where her trusty sidearm should be awaiting its imminent retrieval. then she remembers the lack of gravity.

it was a stupid idea to make a grav switch so accessible. she never even uses it, and humans are the only creature out in this abyss who are weak to its pull. stupid stupid stupid. she tries to look for it in the debris but can’t make it out through all the other white and grey blobs.

in the room, a few brown splotches stand out, utterly foreign to the ship’s shade-based palette. she stares closer, and even more seem to appear. the black space where the open door leads to dark corriders begins spewing them out en masse until at least two dozen of them scatter across the floors walls and ceiling of the cabin, staring right back into her with beady pinpricked eyes.

a bug pounces, its thin limbs pinning loretta hard. the hair on its tarsi scrape across her bare arms jolting goosebumps up her entire body. its membranal underside presses up close, making her shake with unease as its squishy segmented body rubs against her and coats her with an inky discharge well familiar to her after multiple campaigns.

click, click, click, click. clinking mandibles together, like a hungry and petulant child. antennae rub against her ears, just then noticing their dulling by a xenotic wax substance. yet the vile hissing of a group of specially angered freaks still deafens.

searing pain transports into her flesh. she screams but a sludgey backup in her windpipe stops everything but the vibration. loretta looks down at the thick brown apical claw stuck inches deep in her side. a gaping void begins a slow seeping of crimson. another of the blobs quickly dashes into her view, bursting into definition as it pops up at the wound’s side. the same black liquid that drapes over her skin begins to leak out of its open mouth-thing, mixing and diluting the blood until the cut is naught but a thick black wall subsuming a portion of her outer thigh.

she looks forward again as a twinge of neck pain insults her for forgetting herself, and sees the first roach reaching its body upwards. a yonic hole in its abdomen begins to slowly invert, while a large black tendril reaches out of the now-extremity and fluidly twirls itself around loretta’s leg, dripping ichor all the way.

she’d never gotten this close to one of the breeders before, to the point she didn’t even recognize their exotype until now. as far as she knew, they stayed deep inside the tunneled grounds of the hive worlds, fucking like lagomorphs to appease their queens and ever-outbreed the URSS’s onslaughts. and yet, here they are.

the appendage flicks into loretta’s belly, proding at and pushing inside her navel cavity. it feels almost like she’s being licked by a pet dog, or it would if it wasn’t by a fucking bug. the creature tries to push forward past the inch-deep space and is swiftly yanked back in turn, reaching the end of its rope. loretta sighs. if they can’t even reach her then the worst they could probably do is-

the tentacle prods at a lower place before a concept can reach her nerves. a deserted, forgotten plateau, a space too human for her to accept. sliding over a smooth ravine, wet shocks drive up her legs. coiling atrocity digs into her malleable dirt like the hills in pandora. she screams like she imagines it must. though the terror speaks in soft, writhing texture, and not pain. pandora and i, sister bodies- desecrated in twain.

she turns her head to the room’s one window. beyond the hexagonal plasteel frame, one of the last things held up through the chaos, halcyon skies stretch out for infinity- vistas of beautiful achromatic calm broken only by dots of terrestrial colour. an anaerobic dead zone, where nothing except calm would subsume her. devour her. she yearns to feel that cold blanket take her now. she dreams of the window bursting open, space gaining pressure the glass wasn’t ready for, and ripping them all out with it. she dreams of mom bursting through the door gun in hand. she dreams of simply disappearing from all being.

from above her head slithers another pair of mandible and trio of forceps, digging into her budding chest. a sparse pink miasma sprays across her vision, and she’s stumbled out of her wonder by a furious coughing fit rising in her trachea, and finally taking off some of the adhesive coating her throat alongside it. she tries to look back outside and the claws digging deeper just force her gaze right back. her eyes glaze over with water and, unable to wipe the sleeves away, it drowns her. it fills her mouth until her muscles strain, spread taught like an epithelial fingertrap. she cant help but cough more, painfully clenching on the foreign object sliding deeper inside using her windpipe as a transistor to her weak points.

beige meat squishes up against her face, phantom sensations of a man’s stomach thrusting. it should never have been able to get more evil than that. how did they put human’s cruelty into animals, was it taught? more inches of squishish meat force the thought from her shrouded head. her tears taste like ink. maybe they like it that way.

Lorettas’s hull stretches with fullness and terror. she cant see it, but she can feel it bulging her front extremitously. it feels like the two tendrils will soon meet in the middle. she shudders in fear and feels them swirl inside her as punishment.

she feels a slight relent, and her thoughts finally losing their haze. the creatures in front of her thrust backwards through the air, and the twisting coiling tentacles whorl their way out like a pullcord. again she has to feel the thing climb her hole, leaving a painful space where there used to be nothing, unable to go back to nothing. it is ashamed and sobbing in it’s own. what a bipolar old lady you are, where is your rage?

his voice forces itself inside of her. look what you’ve done. ruined and irreparable. you must’ve loved it. you and your little bug fascination. maybe if you didn’t spend your time with abominations, you wouldn’t have become one.

she screams back. it’s not too late, i don’t love them. he’ll never control me again, i’ve carved so much into the world, i won’t let myself be belittled. you’re smart, they’re miniscule- a surprise assault shows their utter lack of strength. i’ll kill them all if i have to. i’ll prove it, i will.

she tries to open her eyes again and sees, stained by pink clouds floating in her sclera, a huge mutated insectoid towering behind the others. a large dynastinaen horn displays ignorant ideas of its strength above its excitedly quivering mandibles. or perhaps the exoskeletals have no need for concepts of pride or egotism. perhaps hive mentality’s destroyal of the individual will always grant them an advantage. no thought of the victim- evil little creatures. no different than the evil of the Authority. no different than-

two blunt black mandibles thrust into her chest. the wind is crushed from her body before she can realize what’s happening. she is too dazed to look at the impact. her deflated cadaver is thrusted into the air, and carried,

her vision bobs up and down as swift twig limbs drag her forth without thought. station windows fly past her, blobs vaguely looking like her favourite posters lay scattered and sliced in pieces, slime staining them irreparable as it coats the floor. does their cruelty know no limits? was the destruction of her ship and her spirit not enough? the destruction of her people? will anything sway their pure evil? she wants to cry, but she’s already using all the tears her body can muster.

black begins to gorge itself on the halls, the chunky whirring of automatic doors blares in her ears drowning out the chattering sounds of dozens of limbs. the hydraulics were a deeply familiar sound, one she had always cherished hearing. it felt like a reminder of the spacecraft’s life, always interacting to her existence, responding in kind noise whenever loretta’d root around fixing her insides. it was a comforting relationship, wonderful in its unconditionality.

now, her beautiful partner screamed red with anger. they destroyed her entrance too. the airlocks outer seal is burst open with what could fairly be assumed to be anti-ship cannons, if not for the claw marks and acid tainting it all. she looks through the inner seal, into the void where death surely awaits, her body has been so painfully torn and remade, that she can’t make herself put up a single limb to fight at the end. she imagines a blaster in her hand, and clenches its handle tight. then she opens her eyes, and her fingers havent moved an inch.

then her face meets cold surface, jagged. then the green drapes grab onto her skin again. then her blood mixes with the green and turns the colour to the same rust she smelled in the air at the start. then she feels the perfectly held-at-average air of her beloved spaceship turn into cold freezing anguish of the outside. then she feels her body turn to nothing. then, she feels nothing at all.

#puppy writing #uhm #rbs encouraged #i needddd attention chat #but yeah um id appreciate ppl letting me know what they think too!!

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leikeliscomet · 3 days ago

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Sex repulsed, averse and indifferent asexuals are not harming you just for existing. Sex repulsed, averse and indifferent asexuals are not erasing you just for existing. Sex repulsed, averse and indifferent asexuals aren't stealing your representation just for existing. Sex repulsed, averse and indifferent asexuals are not puritans just for existing. Sex repulsed, averse and indifferent asexuals having the rights to not have sex, asserting indefinite refusal to sex, not having children, relationships and having full bodily doesn't have any negative impact on you.

I will always support sex favourable asexuals. I will always support asexuals right to wear what we want, asexual biological parenthood, asexuals in sex work and asexuals that enjoy sexual activities. To paraphrase Sherronda J Brown, I will always support every queer person's right to be a sexual being. But what I'll never support is compulsory sexuality. To paraphrase the rest of the quote, there must always, always, ALWAYS be the option to say no and the right to affirm that no. I'm noticing pushback from some, not all and i have to stress it's not everyone, sex favourable asexuals for simply asserting that no. This is compulsory sexuality. There's literally no other reason why another asexual in your community not having sex or not wanting to and asserting this makes you so upset. The idea it's sex favourable erasure or worse, puritanism for sex repulsed, averse and indifferent asexuals to state our unconditional right to exist with bodily autonomy including *yours* is compulsory sexuality. And this community isn't going anywhere till this shit is unpacked.

Im not gonna get into how and why I got into the ace community and why i care so much today but there's parts of sex favourable asexuality that I can't acess and parts of sex indifferent and sometimes repulsed asexuality that I need. And when you come to my page to decentre me in my own experience you are adding to the long list of shit in society that already makes sexuality difficult for aces like me.

When you assert that your participation in (heterosexual) sex makes you more normal, valuable or human than my ace experience and that that need to centre that participation you are fundamentally no different to every lesbophobe I've ever met, every Catholic puritan that's fantasised over my reproductive potential & every non ace cishet person that stigmatised my lack of sexual attraction to men.

When you treat me existing as a Black asexual as somehow regressive to your idea of sex positivity, especially as a white or non Black sex favourable ace, and have the need or frankly audacity to 'remind' me about having sex you are no different to every anti black racist ive ever known who claims Black girls are fast, thats shamed the Black girls of my community for having the inappropriate behaviour of wearing clothes on bodies they think aren't suitable and every non ace cishet person that's sexualised me since day.

And when you assert that sex repulsed, averse and indifferent asexuals, heavy on the repulsed, are bad representation, stereotypes, children, emotionless, robotic and sanitised you are fundamentally the same as those puritans you claim we are.

Stepping on the backs of the stereotypes, the childish, the frigid, the prudes, the sexless, the hags, the spinsters and the virgins you hate won't ever make you tall enough to reach the validation you think compulsory sexuality will offer you.

As long you as you have a knee jerk reaction to any repulsion, aversion or indifference alongside asexuality or simple terms, that asexuals being repulsed, indifferent or averse to sex is wrong, are the exact same as the 'allosexuals' you claim to hate on a regular basis.

It worries and pisses me off that i even have to say this but people are putting words in my mouth. Ace community, I mean this in the most direct way possible: Get your fucking shit together.

Merry Christmas.

#asexual community #asexual #ace #asexuality #ace tings #ace lesbian #asexual lesbian #black asexual #alloace #aroace #compulsory sexuality #sex positivity #sex neutrality #intracommunity issues #sex repulsed #sex indifferent #sex averse #sex favorable

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cleverthylacine · 8 months ago

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Japanese G1 continuity is absolutely not normal about girls but damned if they don't give us some of the best ones

There was a significant amount of Transformers continuity released between 1987 and around 2007 that was produced in Japanese and is really only known to most English-speaking fans through fansubs, dubs that were only released in Australia, and the like. Shows like Headmasters, Victory, and Zone. Manga like Victory and 15 Go Go Go Teletraan (which was really mostly Kiss Players). Radio shows like Kiss Players.

I'm gonna be super up front. Japanese G1 is not normal about femmes in any way, shape or form. At the same time, it gave us some of the BEST and most underused female characters in the Transformers universe.

Headmasters, which came out right after the US G1 show ended, is particularly egregious. In Headmasters, Arcee has been reduced to Fort Max's administrative assistant, uses ridiculously polite and subservient language, and is also the only medic. And being a medic would be kind of badass if they let her be as badass as Ratchet, you know? But they absolutely do not.

Also, in Headmasters, Carly (now married to Spike) allows her son--a freaking child, not even a teenager--to go on missions when Spike can't and a human is needed, because uh, for some reason it's better for a 12 year old boy to go, not an adult woman?

But most of the good femmes don't come from Headmasters. And some of the best femmes we have are from Japanese G1.

Super-God Masterforce made it up to us by giving gave us Minerva, a human girl who is a Headmaster with a robot body (transtector) making her basically a bad ass mecha pilot, and who actively does fight.

The Victory manga gives us Esmeral, Deathsaurus' incredibly classy wife, and Lyzack, Leozack's twin sister, who is in charge of defending the homefront but really does want to go out and fight. Illumina appears in both the Victory manga and the anime. She's a little human girl who has a crush on Jan Minakaze and is always trying to get people to choose nonviolence.

(Lyzack later appears in an English-language comic - the Wings Universe--wherein she's basically Deathsaurus' servant and Starscream hits on her. I don't like that.)

There are a number of great femmes who were only ever toys. The Cobalt Sentries set gave us Howlback, leader of the Decepticon military police (called the Cobalt Sentries). She is basically Ravage's twin sister but instead of being super stealthy she can turn your attacks right back on you.

(Later she appears in several English language comics and in at least one she is canonically trans. I'm not a fan of her depiction in the SG Recordicons Batman tribute arc, though.)

The Unite Warriors toyline - Takara's response to Combiner Wars, basically - gave us the combiner Megatronia, made up of Megaempress, and her four guards, Lunaclub (sometimes called Luna Clover or Luna Trefle), Flowspade, Moonheart, and Trickdiamond. They are incredibly awesome.

(IDW 2019 used Trickdiamond, but none of the others. Tricky was one of Swindle's contacts.)

Then there's the elephant in the room that everyone pretends isn't there...Kiss Players.

So, okay. There is nothing normal about Kiss Players whatsoever. On the other hand, I'd rather listen to KP than watch RID2015 which is just blatant copaganda from hell.

Kiss Players had an interesting plot involving little bits of Galvatron and Unicron getting into humans and creating the Kiss Players--humans who could give TFs a powerup by kissing them and then merging with their internals somehow. Then there are the Legions, the dick-tongued monsters that everyone who hasn't actually listend to the show or read the manga thinks are Megatron.

The dick-tongued monsters are gross. It is also gross that some of the Kiss Players are barely teenagers and definitely not adults and are constantly ending up in Situations.

But the plot centres around the apparent rise of Convoy, or Optimus, from the dead, and his transformation into a weird groomery dude, which many people don't understand there was an actual reason for, because it's not Optimus, it's someone else riding around in his body.

Melissa Faireborn is like if you chopped Marissa Faireborn's IQ in half, dyed her hair blond and threw out any pants or skirts that covered her knees. She is nothing like Marissa and I treat them as cousins, but Xiaoxiao Li is amazing and her real lover.

Anyhow, this female scientist (Dr Amaou) lost her mind over the loss of her daughter during the events of the 1986 movie et sequelae, and she's got to be stopped from turning Atari and her Autorooper robot pal into a permanent fusion to reincarnate her daughter Shizuku (whom for some reason I always want to call Setsuna instead).

It's a little confusing because most of the really good parts of the plot got jammed into a few episodes near the end of the season, although once you know what it is, it's clear that it's being set up. That artist just likes borderline lolicon way too much.

The second season of KP is very squeaky clean and sends the girls out to collect what they think are Allspark fragments, and they are very annoyed because Ravage, whom they call "black panther man" keeps getting in their way and fucking with them, only to later find out that the bots who gave them this task are Unicronian heralds and Ravage is trying to stop them from helping Unicron do what Unicron does.

Rosanna, everyone's favourite robot pop idol, comes from the second season of KP, although you don't see very much of her or her companions Glit and Sundor.

Incidentally KP sets up the Unicron Trilogy and some of its characters end up in the UT--which did come to the US, and gave us Alexis Thi Dang.

(This post is brought to you because I just wrote an Esmeral thing and someone was musing separately about Megaempress as a parent and I almost ended up writing this post while reblogging them, because I'm a nerd with a hyperfixation).

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sashaisready · 1 year ago

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Chapter Seven - First time for everything

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again.

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Chapter 8

Series Masterlist

Back at your apartment that evening, you distractedly pick at your dinner with your fork as you scroll on your phone. The rest of your day had passed smoothly. Wanda had rushed back to the front after Bucky left, just as shocked as you were about how that had gone. You could tell she was concerned, worried about just what exactly you were letting yourself in for.

You were too.

There had been no accompanying SUVs on your journey home and you had decided to trust Bucky when he told you the trailing had stopped, but you couldn’t help the occasional peek over your shoulder to be sure.

You’d fallen down into a bit of a rabbit hole, scouring the web for anything and everything on James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. There were thousands of results. News articles, forum posts, photos, social media speculation, court transcripts. Violence, corruption, notoriety. It seemed he’d cleaned up his act in recent years, exploring more legitimate business options than mob activity – formal luncheons and galas rather than shoot outs and cement shoes. He had multiple companies in his name and owned a smattering of businesses throughout the city and along the east coast. Auto shops, nightclubs, construction. Still, there were suggestions that he wasn’t entirely on the straight and narrow – with accusations of fronts and money laundering littered across the web, although nothing proven. Occasionally his business rivals seemed to disappear into thin air, their digital trail coming to an abrupt end with a small news article about them going missing and police 'doing everything they can'.

You shuddered as you considered the implications.

But he also did a lot of good. He donated generous sums to philanthropic causes and charities. He ran fundraising events and sat on non-profit boards. He’d opened a centre for children in one of the city’s most deprived boroughs, and regularly paid college tuition for bright teens whose families couldn’t front the cash themselves.

He clearly enjoyed the finer things that his line of work provided. There were endless pictures of his sports cars, sprawling property and bespoke Italian suits. He was often photographed at the finest restaurants in the city, beautiful women on his arm basking in the paparazzi’s attention.

It was dizzying, intimidating. Worlds away from your rented modest one bed apartment and IKEA furniture, your simple job, your $30 hoodies and Target undies. A fancy night out for you was the local sushi restaurant, or vodka sodas at a dive bar with Wanda. You could barely afford a side salad at some of the places Bucky frequented.

One listicle that got your attention had the headline “The Dating History of the Notorious James Barnes”. It was an endless inventory of photographs of gorgeous women – socialites, models, It girls…the occasional actress. Each more beautiful than the last, long legs and perfect bone structures, draped in expensive gowns and showing off flawless updos. The kind of women who never seemed to have a bad hair day or a hormonal zit outbreak, just relentlessly glamorous and immaculate. The article spoke about his known womanising, his playboy reputation cemented as he became linked to more and more beauties.

You felt foolish. Here you were shamelessly flirting with Bucky, fantasising about him, giddy with excitement that he’d asked for your phone number. You were nothing like these women, you couldn’t compete with them, or his chic lifestyle. You felt embarrassed for letting yourself get caught up, for briefly thinking you could fit into his world.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a buzzing on the table. Your phone is ringing, an unknown number. You sigh - probably a robot sales call but you answer it regardless.

“Hello?”

“Evening, Doll” comes a low voice from the other end.

You jump to your feet, your chair squeaking on the floorboards as you feel yourself go rigid. You’re hyper alert, fleetingly guilty as if he is somehow aware of your web sleuthing. Not that he could be annoyed even if he knew, he’d done his homework on you – you could do yours on him.

“Oh…Bucky, hey” you respond timidly as you settle back down in your seat.

He chuckles. “Not quite the enthusiastic response I’d hoped for”.

“Sorry…I was expecting a robocall”.

“A what?”

“Oh you know…one of those automated spam calls you get? They always have a weird robot voice”.

He chuckles again, his laugh is syrupy and smooth and sends sparks through you. “Well, sorry to interrupt your big plans for the evening”.

You know he’s just teasing but in light of everything you’ve just read you cringe, it just further highlights how quiet your life is in contrast to his.

“What can I help you with, Bucky?” you ask tentatively, sitting back down in your chair.

“I’d like to put in a custom order” he says smoothly.

Your stomach drops slightly, disappointed this seems to be a business call rather than a personal one, but not surprised.

“Oh right, sure” you lean over the table to grab a pen and paper.

“What are you looking for? We do 6-12 inch cakes in any flavour you want – we can write personalised messages in the icing too. Or we have cupcakes…”

“No...no Doll…not that” he protests.

You wriggle in your chair, moving your phone to your other ear. “Ah…um….wha-”

“I’d like a date with the store manager. Maybe Friday, at Gambino’s…say 8pm?” he purrs.

You flush as your heart soars, hardly believing what you’re hearing. A date? With you? You’ve never been to Gambino’s but it’s fancy. Fancy fancy.

“Oh!” you utter in surprise. “Um…are you sure?”

“I’m always sure, Doll” he fires back without missing a beat. You’re glad you’re already sitting down.

You pause for a moment, not quite believing this is happening and that he has asked you out. Those thoughts of him come flooding back. You imagine what his mouth feels like…what it would be like to be held in his arms…how his stubble might scratch against your cheek…

“You still with me?” he asks, breaking you out of your daydream.

You open your mouth to speak. Yes. Yes of course, Bucky! You want to say. I’d love to! I can’t wait!

But then you think about that article, all those beautiful women. Those expensive suits. The fancy cars. The paparazzi clamouring for shots of him. You imagine yourself on his arm, your modestly priced evening dress making you stick out like a sore thumb amongst the well-heeled clientele. You imagine the slick restaurant staff giving you a double take, surprised at Bucky’s choice of girl for the evening, raising an eyebrow at you. You imagine that you use the wrong fork, mistake the palate cleanser for dessert, stumble on your cheap heels on the way to the bathroom. You see Bucky, meticulous and assured Bucky who likes everything just so, embarrassed that his date doesn’t understand the unwritten rules of this scene. There’s practically an illuminated sign above your head – a big arrow pointing down to you – She doesn’t belong.

You want to stay in your small bubble with him, harmlessly flirting together in the bakery where the stakes are low and you’re in control. The prospect of the next step, venturing out into the world with him, dipping your toes into the pool of the mob and all that comes with it – is just too daunting.

“Uh…I’m sorry Bucky, I don’t think that would be a good idea” you finally reply, your voice meek and resigned. You don’t even sound like yourself.

There’s silence on the line and you briefly wonder if the call has disconnected until he clears his throat.

“No problem” he growls.

You can hear the barely restrained anger in his voice. You realise Bucky Barnes must not be used to hearing “no”. Certainly not from women.

“I-” you try to respond, you want to tell him the truth – that you feel uncomfortable, that you don’t fit into his world – either of them, not the mob one and not the affluent businessman one either. Regardless of how much you might want to.

“It’s fine” he interrupts sternly. “Have a good evening”.

He hangs up. You stare at your phone in disbelief for a short while, willing him to call you back so you can tell him you’ve made a mistake.

Bucky slams his phone down onto the mahogany table so hard it cracks the screen. His anger swells, furious and embarrassed at your rejection. He was so sure that you were on the same page when the two of you had spoken earlier. You seemed to have forgiven him for the tracking and he must be getting rusty as he was sure he was picking up all the right signals from you. He was so looking forward to getting to know you better, away from the prying ears of his men and Wanda. He wanted to hear that laugh of yours again – outside of your workplace and unrestrained when you were off the clock. He wanted to treat you to a nice meal, make you feel special with the finest food New York had to offer. Maybe later take you home and get to know you even more intimately...

This is why he shouldn’t flirt unless he knows for sure that it’s a done deal.

“That went well” mutters Steve from the desk across the room, not looking up from his paperwork.

Bucky ignores him, rolling his eyes and adjusting his shirt sleeve as he sits down.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that happen before…” Steve smirks. “First time for everything, I guess”.

“Shut up” barks Bucky, tracing the big crack in his phone screen with his finger as he huffs in frustration.

Steve looks over at his best friend. Bucky is fidgeting awkwardly, he looks as if he’s physically trying to shake it off, cracking his neck and attempting to concentrate on his computer screen.

“Can you arrange for this to be fixed please?” Bucky says bluntly, gesturing to his broken phone as his eyes remain on the monitor.

“This girl has really done a number on you, hasn’t she?” Steve smirks.

Bucky meets his eye. His face is stony, livid.

“What did I just say…” he warns.

Steve holds up a hand in surrender. “Sorry. Just…I can’t remember the last time a woman got you this riled up, is all…”

Bucky ignores him again, sighing as he reaches for his whisky tumbler.

#mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #sweet and sour fic

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gojoswhitebabydolllashes · 1 month ago

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BASED ON A REQUEST I HAD.

ENJOY. Only small. 💫 ARCANE SEASON 2 SPOILERS

---

Rugged and in great hatred of the world that was the earth outside the arcane, Jayce Talis, once the great golden man of Piltover, struggled to drag himself across plains.

In search of something far beyond what he could comprehend, he walked himself a far distance to find what he exactly what he was looking for. Amidst all of the cruelty that was the world inside the arcane, the indescribable and alien reality that it was, Jayce remembered just what-who-he fought for inside.

Jayce reached a gate that was shaped in an odd way like the arcane. A sharp decorated archway of black material and small coloured glass circles like small moons. Tents lined the pathway. People in pure white robes dotted around the area, some were doing small activities, and others were simply existing.

Inside what he assumed was a sanctum, jayce saw exactly what he came for. His best friend. His...purpose. viktor was strung up high, sitting in the centre of magical ropes. He looked absolutely glorious. His mechanical and magic ridden body glimmered in the dim but glowing light, and he was engulfed almost partially by a flowing navy cloak.

"You seemed to have found your way to me once again. Jayce"

Viktor opened his dark eyes slowly, and in his vision, he saw a more rugged and wild version of his friend. His lab partner. He smirked and huffed as he looked down.

"You are different that I imagined you would be. I've been waiting for you to come back" viktor smiled.

As did jayce. "Viktor. I can't believe this is what you've been doing. " He was breathless, taken aback by how thriving and almost lavish his friend had made his life.

"Your amazing viktor..." Jayce admired him. "I can't believe this, your...your robotic and magic. Your strong now"

Viktor scoffed and smiled once again. "I am as strong as a moth to a light"

Viktor studied jayce. His dark eyes admired how his friend admired him.

"Allow me to show you what I have created here, jayce," viktor slowly descended from his glowing web and stood before jayce holding his curved golden staff.

"I would like that very much"

#arcane season 2 #jayvik #jayvik fic #arcane #league of legends #arcane season 1 #viktor arcane #jayce talis #jayce x viktor

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legendary-guest · 7 months ago

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High school sucks, from puberty to petty relationship drama to navigating the cliques - not to mention the teachers! Some so crabby, so lippy, so unfair, so mean that you could swear they were...evil?

Meet Dr. Drew Lipsky and Ms. Shea Go! Other outfits linked here. Lots of text under the cut.

"Mr. Lipsky is my father. You will address me as Dr. Lipsky."

It is difficult to escape Dr. Lipsky on the learning side of the high school ecosystem, he practically runs every class that involves math or science.

Arrogant, grouchy and with a tendency to ramble, Doc runs his classroom with an iron fist and a strict no lip policy. He is seldom seen without his ruler, which he uses to write along the chalkboard with his terrible handwriting, draw diagrams, gesture wildly with and slam on sleeping students' desks to rudely wake them. Despite this unpleasant behaviour, he has obvious favourite students - some of them have gone a long way just by sucking up to him - like not being yelled at and being one of the privileged few that haven't been damned to detention for a minor transgression. He's not just mean, he's also weird.

He likes to show-off the fact that he can draw a perfect circle, free-handed. This impresses a lot of the kids, until it becomes dull - he is workshopping drawing a perfect dodecahedron free-handed (it's not going well). School festivities and similar events, not centred around sport, tend to have him actively organising and participating in them. Always decorates the classroom around Christmas time, becomes unbearably cheery. His love for Snowman Hank is infamous.

Students have figured out an effective method to avoid learning - by getting Dr. Lipsky to talk about himself, or anything that vaguely interests him, he isn't difficult to distract. If he realises what's happening, everyone gets extra homework. If he doesn't and class ends, he seethes about it.

Of course, this means that he's always marking, always busy, a vicious feedback loop. He secretly doesn't mind this, as it keeps him occupied, away from depressing thoughts and crushing loneliness. His job is his social life, but even this is difficult as the only real rapport he has with anyone are the students he rambles to. Well, them and now Ms. Go, whom he carpools with - picking him up and dropping him off 5 days a week, just the two of them. His own car was totalled by Ed, and unable to afford another on a teacher's salary, he'd been catching the bus to and from work. His garage has turned into a workshop, where he tinkers with fixing old computers, building robots, lasers, programming microchips, etc. He really doesn't spend time in his own home.

Drew is dyslexic but doesn't know it - he's found ways to manage this. One of these ways is calling on kids who he knows are in Ms. Go's classes - he always knows them - to help him spell something. “How do you spell it?” “What?” “What do you mean ‘what?’ I know you’re in Miss Go’s AP Literature class, so tell me how to spell it!” “Uh…” [spelling ensues] “That wasn’t so difficult now was it?” “Thanks would be nice” “Detention.” “What?” “I heard you talk back. Detention. I’m old, not deaf.” Unlike Drakken, the subject of his blue skin and scar aren't things he's keen to talk about. He addresses it once at the beginning of every semester to the students to quell rumours and that's it. “Before you all start asking, I’ll tell you. This nasty scar? Lab accident. Blue skin? Lab accident. Is it contagious? No. We’re speaking about injuries, not cooties. So, you know I take lab safety very, very seriously. Gloves, closed shoes and glasses in the lab at all times! Last thing I need is a lawsuit from your parents.” No member of staff, including Ms. Go, know why he is blue.

He is still a college drop-out - his doctorate and teaching certifications are fake. He has never been caught. The inciting incident for dropping out (I have yet to cement whether or not it is the Bebes) has defeated him instead of motivating him. Drew Lipsky is still Drakken, but listless, without real focus or ambition, prone to indifference and depression. As Dr. Lipsky, he is a genuinely good, competent teacher, despite all his faults - the need to explain things, repeatedly, helps him in the profession.

Ms. Go is the hot new English teacher at school! Although she is new to teaching on her own, she is not as naïve as some might think. With her experience as Shego, member of Team Go from Go City, dealing with her brothers and various criminals and villains alike, Ms. Go knows her way around people - the Child Development qualification is merely a bonus.

Staff and students don't know of Ms. Go's hero identity and she goes to great lengths to deceive students that point out her strangely tinted skin - by telling them that it's merely the fluorescent lights in the school that make her appear green, and that, maybe, they should be more focused on what's on the board. Several students have started wearing glasses since her employment. Gaslighting the kids is something she enjoys immensely. Dr. Lipsky has noticed, too, but he doesn't bring it up, accepting her reasoning - for now.

Her attractiveness is no secret, with many a boy harbouring a crush on her, some of the bolder ones hitting on her in class or the hallway. Ms. Go effectively destroys the fragile, male teen ego in a single, creatively worded sentence, leaving a path of bitter, broken hearts (and sometimes tears) behind her. Creative put-downs aren't just reserved for boys that hit on her.

Ms. Go's criteria for her hitlist include: disrupting class, poor enunciation/pronunciation, mumbling, using the wrong words, incorrect/poor grammar, and abuse of teen slang in class.

Anything that isn't a school textbook or notebook that is left behind in Ms. Go's classroom goes missing. Pencils, pens, spare change, personal diaries, MP3 players, CD players, gum (which they shouldn't have anyway!) - gone. Ms. Go picks the room CLEAN as soon as all of them leave - finders keepers! She has an impressive collection, and shares the spoils with Dr. Lipsky. Forgot something in Ms. Go's class? FORGET IT! She gives props to those who can clap back in a creative (grammatically correct, well-spoken) way. For this, she is a very divisive figure, fluctuating between cool-hot-mean-bitchy at all times.

The popular, self-absorbed girls try to emulate Ms. Go, from her mannerisms to her style. She doesn't mind this, and even has some fun in seeing how far she can take it.

Ms. Go runs her classes efficiently and she never assigns extra homework - she doesn't want to mark it. She clocks in at 7am and clocks out at 3:30pm, not a minute before or after.

She has an expensive sports car (I'm thinking a Maserati), which she was able to procure from the Mayor of Go City for her service. Hego was, is, very upset over this. Although she has been out of the hero game for a while, something about the unusually hued Dr. Drew Lipsky had her extend the offer to carpool - just him. Especially after she saw him come to work, late, soaking wet from some surprise torrential rain, snarling and growling and snapping at anyone who so much as looked at him funny - only to be berated by the principal on top of it all.

Her degree in Child Development means that she holds the position of school counsellor. Problem is, no one wants to see her! Who does after hearing all the mean things she says? Her small office is rarely visited, to the point where Dr. Lipsky has moved in with all his stuff, mountains of paper that made his corner of the teacher's lounge very unseemly. Anyone who knocks is met with the Doc's intimidating stature and signature frown.

Ms. Go and Dr. Lipsky sit by themselves in the small office, never in the teacher's lounge. Drew will sometimes stay back and work, catching the bus home, whilst Shea goes home. As they get closer, Ms. Go will sometimes just go for a few hours and return to the school to take the Doc home. Although it seems like she's got it all, at the end of the day, she still goes home to her apartment - alone. Used to being surrounded by her family, as annoying as they are, used to the excitement and rush of hero work, and no longer actively using her powers, Shea is not too sure what to make of normal, civilian life. Especially after hers has been anything but. Partying, clubbing and shopping on the weekends are fun, but the prospect of socialising with others, finding interests that aren't focused on her career is daunting, if not a little frightening, if she were honest with herself. Shego, as Ms. Go, still calls him Dr. D (for 'Drew', she says the alliteration makes it fun to say) and Doc. Drew Lipsky for when she really wants to annoy him.

Drew/Drakken having dyslexia, Drew/Drakken taking the bus and the name Shea for Shego's real name are all lifted from Dwelling by @gogofordrakgo. The AU has been stewing for a very long time, almost as long as I have been reviewing. All elements lifted have been credited. I see several paths for it.

A 'Normal' AU where they exist within the KP world but never become villains, and don't teach at Middleton High School.

An Origin Story of how Drakken and Shego met teaching at some high school and then getting into villainy together.

An AU where they are teachers at Middleton High School and Kim and Ron are students there, still saving the world. They still play an antagonistic role, Drakken more than Shego, with Shego empathising with Kim without breaking her Shego-ness and becoming too nice, still distance between them. Ron would also be Shego's one-and-only student that she sees as a counsellor. Their sessions consist of having him accompany her to the mall - retail therapy. In this version of the AU, the recurring villains would be The Seniors. Senior Sr. is a big name supervillain looking to retire and is training his spoiled, sheltered son Senior Jr. to take up the mantle, but all he's interested in is becoming a teen-pop sensation, even though he learns quickly and can take on KP. Senior Sr. finds Kim Possible, not only a worthy adversary, but the ideal match for his son! He is the number one Kim x Junior shipper. (500k slow-burn, enemies to lovers epic fanfic, babies ever after - 7 for all 7 continents - 4 girls and 3 boys - evil-and-in-love - he's planned Junior's entire life for him, he can't wait to retire!). Dr. Lipsky and Ms. Go become villains at the end, becoming Dr. Drakken and Shego, the new villainous couple looking to rule the world and taking the place of Senor Senior Sr. and Senor Senior Jr.

Alternative to the last where it's all the same but they don't become villains. Maybe they try for a bit and after having their fun, they settle down to have a family. I dunno!

Now, is there more to come? YES! MAYBE! We'll see how I am feeling. Why did I do it this way and not write something properly? Because I don't like writing or plotting multi-chapter fanfic. I really wanted to make something that I could write for in this very casual way, and, if anyone else wanted to write or draw for this, that it would be possible.

Teacher AU is such a strong concept for the characters as they are, I wanted to really have it be true to them, as we see and know them in the show. I didn't want huge differences in their backstories, interests, mannerisms or relationships with other characters, because all those things inform who they are. I love that Drakken is a scatter-brained, easily-offended, easily distracted grouch and that Shego is such an annoying, snarky woman, a staunch grammarian and runner-up for professional slacker (Ron takes the number one spot). I wanted to challenge myself with this and I hope that I have been successful with it, at least initially.

#Drakgo Teacher AU #drakgo fanart #drakken x shego #shego x drakken #kim possible #Kim Possible AU #drakgo #shego #drakken #legendary fanfic #legendary art #Drakken and Shego wage slave arc #Drakken and Shego say “Fuck them kids.”#Drakken and Shego enact real villainy by destroying the fabric of society #By destroying the self-esteem of hormonal teens and giving them lifelong psychological issues.

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lucille-artstuff · 4 months ago

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mission status: pending

after suffering heavy casualties in an interstellar war, mech pilot eve is sent into a coma, left drifting through space in her broken starfighter class mech, isolated and unresponsive.

her mech had been keeping her on life support, regulating fluid intake and hormonal levels.

she slowly opened her eyes to the soft glow of a flickering ui panel a few inches away from her face, her whole body aches as she gradually regains her bearings.

"ughh,, ... the cockpit..? ..oww.."

the screens before her seemingly jump to life, bold text appears centred:

[STASIS MODE DEACTIVATED]

a slight jolt feeds through her link implant ports at the base of her skull through to the tip of her spine.

"oouh,,, ellie, status?"

"captain,

we've sustained critical damage,

left leg destroyed,

left cannon destroyed,

right leg nonresponsive,

shoulder mounted weapons system unavailable,

comms systems disabled,

sensors damaged,

life support system estimated at 2 months in stasis mode, 3 weeks in active mode..."

the pilot looked on in horror and disbelief at the reel of damage reports. it never seemed possible that she could face such a devastating loss, nor could she handle the guilt welling up inside her for letting her mech endure such intense damage.

"what's our mission status?"

the feeling in her legs slowly returns with a harsh ache,, her joints feel rusted and stuck, yet relaxed to the point of near dislocation.

"mission status: pending"

the screen prints.

"...pending ? but we didn't lose did we? ...how long was i out?"

"life support systems active for 954 days"

a wave of terror rushed over the pilots body as the realisation sets in.

she's been locked in her mech for almost three years, slowly dying and severed from all connection to the command centre.

"ellie please,, it can't be true... " she trailed off, shaking and trembling.

the console before her becomes blurry as tears well up in her eyes, mumbling to herself, "i can't,,, this isn't happeni.."

she's cut off by a proximity sensor flashing red, instinctively she flicks on the view screen and is momentarily blinded.

it's nothing but dirt and scrap as far as the visual sensors can perceive, two figures are walking around and stopping every few meters to gesture at the abundance of rusted metal and eventually continue beyond L-E's line of sight.

the visual sensors turn off and eve is sitting in the dark again, save for a pulsing glow that fills the dashboard of her mech.

"ellie,, where are we?"

"location unknown"

*sigh*

there were many thoughts and emotions flowing through the mech pilots distressed mind.

had we won the battle?

is there a way to return home?

does command even know i'm alive?

her thoughts continue;

my link with ellie, my fourth generation starfighter mech has been the only reason i'm still alive, but if her systems are critical, how long until either one of dies?

i didn't realise i was biting my nails, trembling with fear i accidentally stabbed my lip, i only just noticed my nails had gotten so long and when did my lips get so soft ?

the thoughts dissipate as another wave of pain shoots through the pilots body, fatigue weighs down her movements, not being used to this level of weakness, she barely recognises this body as her own.

the pilot sighs a deep breath and slumps back into her seat.

realising theres no imminent danger, she switches systems off from high alert, and is hit a flash of empathy thinking how stressful it would've been for ellie to constantly be vigilant, protecting her all this time.

[BUDDY MODE ACTIVATED]

the console lights shift to a deep purple, an emoticon appears on screen cracking a slight smile on eve's face, her immense feelings of isolation slightly relieved as a familiar presence appears

^-^

"... captain ?"

the console emits a soft robotic voice.

"are you okay ..?" :'(

the pilot draws a slow breath, and sighs with relief.

"ellie... you're still here.."

"oh! you're back! i was so worried you would never wake up!" ∩^ω^∩

the lights of the console rotate through the full spectrum of colour, and it almost seems like the ion reactor is humming louder than usual.

"ellie what happened? where are we?"

"i'm sorry captain,,, but our team was... w-wiped out, we barely survived with critical hull damage a-and most of my systems are down..." ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

pause

"...i..i did my best to save you!" ٩( 'ω' )و

eve was hot with frustration, the loss of her team was unforgivable in her eyes,, perhaps it would've been better if she was gone like the rest of her crew.

"i barely managed to dodge the orbital laser cannon, it only vaporised 35% of my shell... aah,, with that much neural shock,,, it's no wonder you fell into a coma" (´；ω；`)

"but what then? what of the mission?"

"oooh, we're not sure about the mission status, our systems went down momentarily after the blast and when we regained control, our comms systems were offline,,, s-sorry...

command only knows that we were hit in the enemy attack" (-_-;)

"... so they're not coming for us...."

the pilot mumbled to herself.

"if they knew i was alive, i'd be rescued by now.... oh my god..."

"captain your mood levels are dropping,, is everything okay?" (◞‸◟)

"ellie let me out of the pod"

"nnoooo!! captain, you've experienced massive trauma and your muscle atrophy has weakened you severely!

i'm not sure what will happen if we disconnect our link!" ((((；ﾟДﾟ)))))))

"just open the hatch,, i need some air... i'm not going anywhere"

"awhh,, ...okaii..." （╹◡╹）

the view screen crackles and powers down, a deep groan followed by a sharp hiss accompanies golden rays piercing into the cockpit.

the console lifts and floats upward revealing a mostly barren landscape before them.

the dust on the air is warm, almost nauseating, although not eating in several years is more likely the cause than the environment.

a red light flashes on her left, just in her peripheral vision.

[proximity sensor]

her body aches as she leans forward to see two figures rushing over to the damaged starfighter.

fumbling for her sidearm, she notices her heart beating heavy on her chest.

"HEY! who said you could touch my mech!"

his mech?

the two caught their breath just shy of the capsule, slowly realising just how this stranger managed to open the mech.

the battle suit was a dead giveaway, but the shaky hand holding a pistol towards them confirmed it.

she's military.

"woah woah, easy now... "

the older of the two had both his hands raised, elbowing the other to do the same.

"... we don't have to get galactic forces involved, let's just talk about this"

"pa look.."

the younger of them pointed to the bundled wires attached to the back of the pilots head, swaying with her movements.

"i think she's a pilot.." he whispered in disbelief.

the pistol still rattling slightly in her hand, her throat growing coarse from the arid environment, eve barely managed to speak.

"what planet is this?"

"you're on nexon" the older one starts,

"used to be a drillin' planet 'til everything dried up, now folks still here either sell scrap or can't afford a ticket out of this system"

she lowers her weapon.

the duo relax considerably and glance at eachother.

"u-uuh lady ? we found your mech floating through space about 6 months ago, we couldn't get it open so.. uhh"

the youth is fidgeting with his hands uncomfortably.

the elder takes over,

"we dismantled and sold most of your weapons systems, anything under a hatch we couldn't get to, i uhh... i'm sorry to say it but you've kept us alive and, and put food on the table for me and my family..."

she tightened her fist, how dare they touch ellie!?

"if there's anything we can do,, let us know,, just please don't report us to the galactic forces,, we can't handle another raid"

eve presses a sequence of buttons and the hatch closes, sealing the mech shut.

#mech #mechposting #mech pilot #writing #fiction

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years ago

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yandere hcs ; mettaton

requested by ; anonymous (13/08/22)

fandom(s) ; undertale

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; mettaton

outline ; “Yandere Mettaton headcanons...”

warning(s) ; obsessive behaviour, toxic relationship, stalking, kidnapping, references to violence/murder

you are the centre of his world and he goes to great lengths to make sure that the rest of the underground know that you’re his

has an entire segment of his show dedicated to you: your voice, your image, your hobbies, your achievements and your latest activities

it starts off as a sort of news segment but it quickly devolves into lewd speech that needs to be censored in its entirety

he forces you to stay in his home or at his studio at all times — either in his presence directly or constantly on private cameras so he can keep an eye on you

(you don’t know how many cameras there are or where they are, just that some are there)

if you escape he’ll send his fans after you under the guise of a competition

your face is plastered everywhere so there’s no chance of you getting away for very long

you get fan-mail like mettaton does, but he personally monitors every letter to make sure you only get platonic flattering things and nothing flirty

anyone who does express any romantic ideas towards you or any dislike of him will be targeted and exterminated by himself or someone who follows him

he’s super affectionate and big on praising you — with his compliments ranging from earnest to lewd as his metal hands go lower and lower

he has no boundaries with you and unless you’re really polite about it he won’t respect yours (with one obvious exception)

if you’re resistant then he’ll isolate you completely until you’re so dependent on him for socialisation that you stop fighting back against his affection

calls you ‘darling’ of course but he always prefaces it with ‘my’ — just emphasising that you belong to him at any opportunity he can

he’s a killer robot and isn’t above hurting others to prove a point to you (be that friends, family, ex lovers or concerned bystanders)

he’d never physically hurt you, though, as he finds you much too precious

bullies and guilts you into saying that you love him every day — even several times a day — because he thrives off of your affection and attention

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #yandere hcs #yandere x reader #undertale x reader #yandere undertale x reader #mettaton x reader #yandere mettaton x reader

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wordsandrobots · 1 month ago

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Have you ever watched other big robot shows or space operas? like Evangelion, LoTGH, Patlabor, Gurren Lagann?

I have, though none of those you listed (Evangelion is the only one I've actively avoided, since I know enough about it to know I need to be in the right frame of mind to engage with it; the others I've just not gotten around to). I don't know if all of the others I've watched count as 'big', but I'll get you a quick breakdown of what I can recall seeing.

For Japanese space-opera in general, I've watched bits and pieces of Leiji Matsumoto's work and have a special fondness for the 2013 CGI Harlock adaption, weirdly enough. For whatever reason -- certainly a lot of the feelings that ended up latching on to Iron-Blooded Orphans were involved -- I just really vibed with what it was doing. Indeed, I think I generally vibe with a lot of Matsumoto's aesthetic approach despite not necessarily liking what he's saying with it. I've also seen the live-action Space Battleship Yamato movie , which I didn't like in the slightest.

I don't think Cowboy Bebop quite counts as space opera, but I've of course seen that too (it was required viewing for my generation) and count it among the best animes ever, just on artistic merit alone. I've also seen Crusher Joe, which certainly isn't that good but was somewhat fun nonetheless.

For mecha specifically, I've never gotten into Macross despite knowing the overall basics. I've only properly seen Macross Plus, but it didn't leave much of an impression. It's kind of odd, actually, since I'd have to say I prefer the artistic direction of Macross' mecha to most of Gundam (love a good transforming jet fighter). Still, story will out, I suppose.

For what I have seen, there's Code:Geass, obviously, in all its utter-batshit glory. Terrible, awful show. I had a whale of a time.

Eureka Seven basically does everything Gundam has ever tried to do over most of its run, better, with much more depth and clarity. Like, seriously, all the stuff the first three Gundam shows are flailing around trying to Say Something About, Eureka Seven nails in the most heartbreaking ways imaginable. It's ridiculously well done for what it is, partly because it actually commits to its main character being an ordinary teenage boy in ways that most things don't (which it also has in common with at least Gundam 79 and Zeta Gundam, only, again, done better).

I more or less enjoyed Argento Soma. It has some very interesting art design and direction, and the general idea is compelling. But it's also rather less than the sum of its parts, overall, and is perhaps tamer than it could have been.

I watched the first season of Eighty-Six and a few of the second season episodes before ditching it like a hot rock when the subs pulled out actual Nazi rhetoric. It had already ditched the moral horror of the first season for something more bland, anyway.

Then there's Fafner in the Azure which is flat-out the best mecha show I've ever seen. I know I rave about Iron-Blooded Orphans and have tons to say about it, but Fafner operates on a completely different level. I have *nothing* to say about Fafner which is not 'for the love of everything, go watch Fafner'. It is an incredible piece of work, that absolutely demands a chronological, beginning-to-end watch, because it is one of the few things I've come across that *needs* to be so long, to say everything it is saying, as well and deftly as it is saying it. It's gruelling, heart-shattering, nail-biting and utterly uplifting in how it centres community and sacrifice for the sake of others. I'm not sure I've seen anything with such a clear idea of what 'we are fighting to defend humanity' means, positive and negative. It will rip your heart out of your chest and you'll thank it for the pleasure.

Also, it does a similar 'two characters are in love with the hero and it's mostly chill' thing to IBO, edging very close to being polyamory too, expect they're all total dysfunctional messes and also occasionally dead so it doesn't work out so well. Plus two of the three are guys, meaning the 'in love' thing is more heavy implication than overt statement but, boy are they implying heavily.

Oh, and I have also see Brave Bang Bravern! It is deeply silly but also contains some wildly out-of-place torture apologia that I still can't quite wrap my head around in terms of what the writers were thinking. Possibly they just wanted to get in some gratuitous bondage? Which, I mean, fair, but still. Odd show (even on top of the deliberateness to its camp).

#anime #space opera #mecha #not all of these are recommendations #but I suppose lets call this #recommendations #(go watch Fafner in the Azure)#(have I said that enough times yet?)#(clearly not because you're still here reading this)#words in answer

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canmom · 8 months ago

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what's the book for? part 1

[here's an intro where I talk about the three hour video essay that inspired me to do this]

This is a part of a series about TTRPGs! I'm looking at the relationship between the book and the thing you do, the play.

That forum, the 'Forge', was founded on the premise that, in Edwards's pithy slogan, 'System Does Matter' - which is to say Edwards believed that the formal and, perhaps especially, informal procedures you follow when you play a roleplaying game have a large effect on what kind of experiences you can have there. Kind of tautological, but I'll let him have that. It is true that there are many different activities that fall under the heading of 'tabletop roleplaying'.

Edwards and his pals wanted to have a more explicit and intentional 'creative agenda' when playing a game. In general this is something that the players were supposed to get on the same page about when they sit down to play a game. To the Forge mindset, the ideal is for everyone to be pushing harmoniously to the same thing; the root of 'dysfunction' in TTRPGs was seen as arising from an unacknowledged clash of these agendas.

The solution found by the Forge was to design new game systems which put their preferred agenda, 'narrativism', front and centre.

Many more words could be written about the Forge, a lot of them quite mean, but let's bring this back to game design. What is it good for?

Why do we buy all these books anyway?

What is 'an RPG'? On the shelf to my right are... hold on let me count... some 27 different D&D books, mostly from 3.5e. Also a couple other TTRPG books (including Apocalypse World). On my hard drive are... some 94+ other games accumulated from various Humble Bundles and similar. I have played only a small fraction, and honestly, read only a slightly larger fraction.

What is a 'game' in this context? Generally speaking there's a book, and maybe some other tools like character sheets, which theoretically provide what you need to get together with some friends and do an activity that it defines. Sort of like a recipe. But the book itself is not the game; the book anchors the game, which is something rather nebulous, into a thing that can be bought and sold. The game is an activity, which 'exists' when it gets played. However, consulting the book is (usually) part of the game!

I rather vaguely say 'what you need', because it's more than just 'rules'. Lancer, for example, is full of colourful, vivid pictures of giant robots; these pictures do a lot to get players' imaginations thinking about what sort of giant robot they might pilot - how cool it would look and what sort of sicknasty shit it would do. I doubt Lancer would be even a fraction as popular if it didn't have these artworks to get you on board with its fantasy. The pictures are a very load-bearing part of creating the 'game' here.

We could say the aim of the TTRPG book is to convince you that the game "exists" in a concrete enough way that you can actually play it. Much like the Golden Witch, BEATRICE. Then you can gather your friends and say, 'hey, do you want to play Sagas of the Icelanders', and they will say 'yeah, what's that?', and you'll show them the book and sit down and attempt to follow whatever idea the book has imparted of 'how to play Sagas of the Icelanders'.

So, the relationship between TTRPG book and play is rather nebulous. This is something of a problem if you are an aspiring auteur designer who would like to impart something specific to players. Who knows what they're going to do with that book?

let's talk D&D - on the 'proper' way of playing the game

D&D is the oldest roleplaying game, and still by far the biggest. Many TTRPG players will only ever play D&D. Many others will play games derived from some version of D&D, like all the different games belonging to the 'OSR'. It's a point of endless frustration for indie game players, who have to deal with being a satellite to this juggernaut, which they see as poorly designed. If only these players would recognise how could they could have it!

But the interesting thing about D&D - and TTRPGs in general, really - to me is that it's folklore. It's not a product you buy.

How do you learn to play D&D? You could go and buy the 'core set': the famous Player's Handbook, Monster Manual and Dungeon Master's Guide, a tripartite division that has existed since the days of AD&D. However, for all their glossy art and flavour text, these books still do a pretty dire job of actually getting you up to speed on how the game is played, especially for the Dungeon Master.

No, what you actually do is: you join an existing D&D group. Or, in the modern day, maybe you listen to an 'actual play' podcast such as Critical Role. This furnishes you with a direct example of what D&D players say and how that results in a story, far more vividly and concretely than you'd ever get from looking at a book.

Once you're convinced that you wanna join this weird little subculture, then perhaps you go and grab some books, run a published module, create a character, whatever. Maybe you go on D&D forums and read endless arguments about the best way to play the game, which all the while serve to define what that game actually is in your head.

A lot of critics of D&D complain that the rules of D&D as written do a pretty terrible job of facilitating many of the purposes that D&D is put towards. They tend to argue that there are games better suited to it, often from the story-games milieu. If people say 'sure, but we change the games in x, y and z way', this is seen as a bit of a joke - "well you're not really playing D&D at that point, are you?"

If you view 'D&D' as defined by what's printed in the books printed by Hasbro, sure. However, D&D is not really that. D&D is the label we apply to a huge nebulous body of lore, from the Dread Gazebo and Tucker's Kobolds to weirdly endearing monsters derived from knockoff tokusatsu figurines. It is all the ideas you've received about what it looks like to play D&D from listening to a podcast. It's arguing about what Chaotic Neutral means. It is 50 years of material - of frequently dubious quality, mind you! - that exploded out from that time some nerds in the States decided to explore a dungeon in their wargame.

If whoever had the rights to use the Dungeons & Dragons trademark never printed another book, that would not kill D&D. In fact, there's even a condescending nickname, courtesy of Edwards, for people who cook up their own slightly-different spin on D&D and try to sell it - the 'fantasy heartbreaker'. The concept of D&D has considerable inertia.

It's pretty, but is it D&D?

In this perspective, defining what D&D 'is' with a strict demarcation is kinda impossible. Gygax himself was very inconsistent on this front, favouring strict adherence to rules at times (declaring of houseruled games that 'such games are not D&D or AD&D games - they are something else'), and encouraging changing them at others - rather depending on whether he had the rights at the time, and his conflict with Dave Arneson.

"Since the game is the sole property of TSR and its designer, what is official and what is not has meaning if one plays the game. Serious players will only accept official material, for they play the game rather than playing at it, as do those who enjoy "house rules" poker, or who push pawns around the chess board. No power on earth can dictate that gamers not add spurious rules and material to either the D&D or AD&D game systems, but likewise no claim to playing either game can then be made. Such games are not D&D or AD&D games- they are something else, classifiable only under the generic "FRPG" catch all"

In this he sounds rather a lot like Ron Edwards declaring that only his perfect design is the true and correct version of Sorcerer! And to both these fellows, we should say, who gives a shit.

So at this point, beyond the (so far) 11 'official' versions of the books published by TSR and later Hasbro, there are hundreds of offshoots that bear a heavy amount of D&D in their lineage and function almost identically even if they don't bear the trademark... and an uncountable number of small variants, whether explicitly houseruled or just different habits forming from 'who speaks when' or 'what rules we ignore' to the focus of the game.

So. Imagine a person who was inspired by the D&D milieu, gradually figured out their own taste of what they like to see in a TTRPG over many games of 'D&D', and is now having a good time playing a game of 'D&D' about tense feudal politicking, even though they almost never look at a D&D sourcebook and frequently defy the rules printed in there. Is this person 'playing D&D'?

How about someone playing an OSR game derived from early D&D, that can't legally use the D&D trademark, but still uses THAC0 and maybe the occasional Mind Flayer(R)?

Now let's try someone who read Apocalypse World sometime and got inspired to try DMing in its style - asking players leading questions, acting to separate them, applying a cost to a desired thing or rearranging things behind the scenes when a roll goes bad... but they still consider what they're doing to be D&D, and they're strictly speaking playing by the book? After all, D&D doesn't say a thing about whether you should do that stuff or not.

Bit of a tough question imo! Maybe we should call Wittgenstein.

the scope of the book

There are so many different kinds of TTRPG book.

Some are very specific - a game like Lady Blackbird, The King is Dead or Hot Guys Making Out overlaps heavily with something like an adventure, giving you just one very tightly defined scenario and mechanics that only make sense in that context. This isn't a new thing, either - a game like Paranoia (1984-) is designed with a specific game structure in mind, where the characters each have a variety of explicit and secret objectives that are all at odds with each other.

D&D was originally a game like this, though it didn't last long. The earliest editions of the rules instruct the referee to draw out 'at least half a dozen maps of his "underworld"' filled with monsters and treasure, representing a "huge ruined pile, a vast castle built by generations of mad wizards and insane geniuses". As far as I understand the history of the hobby, though, people almost immediately started getting into character and using the game for other things than exploring a dungeon.

Other game-products leave larger gaps to be filled in by the player...

a game like Shadowrun or Eclipse Phase, or D&D settings like Dark Sun or Eberron, will give you huge amounts of information about its setting, but leave 'what you do it in' to the GM's discretion.

a game like D&D gives you various setting elements, and there are many adventures and modules you can elect to 'run', but it is the GM's task to pick and choose some subset of those pieces and build them into a custom setting for that game.

a game like Apocalypse World gives you quite explicit instructions for how to set up a first session, and works very hard to set a vibe with the many examples and general style of its rules, but it tells you next to nothing about a predefined setting.

a game like Fiasco or Microscope offers only a loose structure, that your job is to fill with content over the course of the game.

All of these games market themselves with the same type of promise: with our book, you will be able to have this kind of experience. Like all marketing, they will tend to overpromise! But the marketing is, vexingly, itself part of what makes 'the game' happen.

In the video, Vi Huntsman roughly argues that this marketing is the core of what Root: The RPG is actually doing, trying to sell you on Forge ideology rather than provide anything helpful for running a tabletop game; and that the way it attempts to provide this experience is through crude 'buttons' which are inherently limiting, belonging more to the mechanistic worlds of computer games or board games than TTRPGs.

I kind of agree, but the problem is that... to some extent every game does this exact kind of marketing. For example, here's the Bubblegum Crisis RPG (yes, there was a Bubblegum Crisis RPG, published by Mike Pondsmith's company R Talsorian Games in 1996) which announces:

Those words are lyrics from several songs from the Bubblegum Crisis soundtracks, and they encapsulate the kind of action and drama you'll find in the Bubblegum Crisis Boleplaying Game. With this book, you'll enter the world of MegaTokyo and the oppressive megacorporation Genom—a world where monstrous Boomers, desperate AD Police and the mysterious Knight Sabers battle for the future of civilization.

This copy serves as a promise of what the game will bring, but also a prompt that tells you what kind of game you should use its tools to make. It's attached to exactly the sort of licensed game that Vi Huntsman criticises, applying an existing framework to a licensed RP as if to imply you need this book in order to tell a Bubblegum Crisis-inspired story.

Why? Huntsman called it 'reproducibility'. If every game that ever runs is a uniquely circumstantial snowflake, there is nothing to sell. But if you can offer someone the tools that they surely need to do that thing they heard about...

The problem is that what makes an RPG memorable is something that arises when you get a group of friends (or strangers!) to sit down together and make up a story, and that kind of definitionally can't be reduced to instructions in a book - it's too personal, too specific to the people involved. But we live in the era of capitalism, so... RPG companies and independent designers alike need to have a product to sell to this 'RPG player' subculture-identity.

The drive to somehow make reproducible experiences dates back all the way to the very first time people heard about that crazy game that Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson were doing at their wargames club and Gygax and Arneson decided to print a book to help people do that at home.

And with many RPGs on the market, they need further to differentiate themselves: to tell you that they're offering something you can't get elsewhere.

So what is that something? In the next post I'll get into that!

#roleplaying games #ttrpg #story games #tabletop roleplaying #d&d

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equipe · 10 months ago

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Option de partage du contenu des blogs avec des tiers

Bien le bonjour, Tumblr ! Nous tenions à communiquer avec vous sur un sujet technique et sensible sur lequel nous travaillons actuellement.

Vous le savez sans doute, des sociétés spécialisées dans l'IA font l'acquisition d'une grande variété de contenus sur Internet, et ce, avec divers objectifs en tête. Il n'existe pour le moment que peu de moyens permettant aux individus de réguler la façon dont ces contenus sont utilisés sur les plateformes d'IA. Dans l'UE notamment, la loi sur l'IA vise à offrir des moyens de contrôle pour que chacun puisse décider de l'utilisation de ses contenus ainsi que leur manière. Nous tenions à vous permettre d'exercer ce droit, quelle que soit votre localisation. C'est pourquoi nous avons mis en place une option de refus du partage des contenus de vos blogs publics avec les tiers, incluant les plateformes d'IA qui les utilisent pour leurs modèles d'entraînement. Enfin, sachez que nous collaborons également avec des partenaires pour nous assurer que vous disposiez du contrôle le plus précis possible sur le contenu qui sera utilisé.

Quelques remarques importantes :

Nous dissuadons d'ores et déjà les robots d'indexation d'IA de venir piocher dans les contenus Tumblr, et nous poursuivrons cette initiative afin de réserver ces contenus à nos seuls partenaires identifiés.

Nous nous plaçons du côté de la communauté Tumblr et désirons nous assurer que les protections adéquates soient bien en place au regard de la manière dont vos contenus seront utilisés, et nous avons à cœur que nos partenaires respectent vos choix.

Pour désactiver le partage avec des tiers des contenus de vos blogs publics, rendez-vous depuis le Web sur la page des paramètres de chacun de vos blogs, puis activez l'option "Empêcher le partage avec des tiers".

Pour savoir comment activer le refus du partage avec des tiers depuis la dernière version de l'application, nous vous invitons à consulter cette page du Centre d'aide.

Dernière remarque : si vous aviez déjà décidé de dissuader la recherche de votre blog par les moteurs de recherche, l'option "Empêcher le partage avec des tiers" sera activée par défaut.

Si vous avez des remarques ou des inquiétudes soulevées par cette fonctionnalité, veuillez consulter attentivement notre page d'aide avant de contacter le support.

#nouveautés #partage avec des tiers #IA

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found-family-tournament · 2 years ago

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Found Family Tournament Round 1 Part 17 Group 84

Propaganda and further pictures under the cut

Seven Birds: Taako, Magnus, Merle, Lup, Lucretia, Davenport, Barry

Boys from the Dwarf: Arnold Rimmer, David Lister, Kryten and The Cat

Submissions are still open!

Seven Birds:

they literally spent a hundred years becoming a family and lucretia tried her best to protect the but they could only save the world after all of them had been reunited and they LOVE each other they deserve to win this whole thing

Boys from the Dwarf:

Listen. These guys actually canonically have nobody else, the entire rest of the crew of this spaceship died in a nuclear incident which TECHNICALLY was Rimmer's fault. Forced family. Lister is the last human alive, Rimmer is technically a ghost kept alive by technology, Kryten is a robot and Cat is a cat. They live on this massive spaceship yet still choose to spend all their time together, it has been like 30 years at this point. I cannot stress to you how they had the option to leave and go elsewhere in this ship the size of a city at any given time yet chose to stick together after 30 years. Every opportunity any of them has had to get off this godforsaken ship, they have turned down. They would do anything for eachother but also would leave eachother on a random planet without hesitation (and actually have done). They are best buddies, they even have a handsign/handshake.

They’re an unlikely crew but ultimately they’re all each other has. Dave wakes up from stasis as the last human alive and to keep him sane the ship’s computer brought his dead bunk mate back as a hologram. They don’t usually get along but after being all each other has they ultimately need each other and do care about each other. They’re just hard assess about it. Also on board is a humanoid being called The Cat, who is from a species that evolved from a cat that was smuggled on board the ship before the accident that killed the crew. He’s usually self-centred but even after finding his own species again he ultimately decides his home is with the boys from the dwarf. And then there’s Kryten, a service mechanoid with an over-active guilt chip that they rescued from a crashed ship along the way. They’re dysfunctional and complete opposites to each other in many ways, but they are always together in every parallel universe they come across. And even when they do separate to try to do their own thing, ultimately they always come back to each other. They’ll act like they all dislike each other at times, but ultimately if trouble threatens one of them then the rest will band together. Also their dynamic together is just extremely funny.

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mr-camhed · 4 months ago

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Some other Transformer characters i made/envisioned that i might archive/finish here:

Doominator, Junkion mercenary, Decepticon, transforms into The Ford Mustang in Death race, a cold, cruel and nihilistic survivalist that only believes in The tendency of evil and The goal of survival thanks to his tough upbringing.

Cometron, Autobot intelligence courier, Velocitronian, transforms into a GT1 street car, has an unhealthy obsession with being faster that she would risk her own life for it, idolizes Blurr.

Tailgater, Decepticon sniper and ground squad leader, transforms into an Audi A8, War crimes enthusiast who almost habitually murders civilians and medics so much he fragged a few of his own command officers mistaking them as civilians which causes chance of promotion down The toilet and frustration he can only quench by murdering more innocents and sometimes souring the relationship with Decepticon allying species. Leads a team of genericon called "Karashni Squad" with a fellow Decepticon named Bulwark who transforms into a compact station wagon.

Landread, Decepticon "pretender"(think IDW Ultra magnus, transformable robot in armor that makes him bigger transformable) and battlefield commander, outer armor turns into Main Battle Tank, inner robot turns into a station wagon. Spark brother to Bulwark, reckless and short tempered, believes in actions over words, hates substanceless egoist like Autobots and staff officers with a passion, functioning alcoholic.

Munitionwash/Ammunitionwash: Decepticon Conehead seeker assassin, transforms into vector thrust VTOL strike Fighter, dive bombing enthusiast, thinks dashing fast enough that further witnesses can't identify you with enough firepower to kill anyone close enough to bear witnessed suffices as assassination. Almost always smokes a cy-gar, which can be also used as a weapon.

Skywalk: Autobot female seeker(probably one of a kind), police patrol, transforms into a light multirole fighter in police livery, very ammo conservative, only shoots when she's absolutely sure about it is garuanteed to hit.

Algorithmaster: Decepticon Data analyst and communications expert, transforms into a long chassis Mercedes Vario TV van with a telescopic antenna mast. A Decepticon who keeps a low profile to hide its own perversity and sadism, Algorithmaster is a good substitute for Soundwave if you can't get ahold of him for intelligence or surveillance missions when he's not secretly causing chaos by disrupting The dataflow of wherever he is for fun or doing sentient life trafficking for money. Has The major Weakness of being top heavy in both modes but especially in van mode and toppling over almost garuanteed to break The antenna and heavily diminishing his effectiveness.

Whitenoise: Autobot aerial forces and later Cybertron Security bureau agent, transforms into an Antonov An-71 AWACS Aircraft. Determined on justice to The level of singlemindedness and even overconfidence, Whitenoise would often put herself into danger to pursue her enemies. She Was Algorithmaster's coworker in Iacon's telecommunications centres where she accidentally discovered his illegal activities which caused her to be kidnapped and almost brainwashed by Algorithmaster before she was rescued by Orion pax, Strongarm and wheelarch where she bodyslammed herself and a chair into Algorithmaster's back and broke his antenna to stop him from frying The officers' cerebral module with his data bomb attack that kept her in a trance like state. After she found out that Algorithmaster had escaped after The Kaon riots and Decepticon uprising and is still at large after The war, she began to embark on a quest to bring The criminal back to justice.

Duke O'Death(Pirate name/press nickname)/Speedstick(original name)/Stealthclad(preferred name to be called): Former Decepticon, currently leader of Space Pirate organization Deathkneller, wanted by both The Galactic senate and Blackbox Consortium for Attacks against their fleet, Empurata Victim and triple changer, transforms into an armored muscle car and a stealth attack helicopter. Semi schizophrenic, criminal with principle and a code, either completely disassociating and silence or extremely friendly and talkative depending on situation and almost no inbetween.

Transporticus Maximus/Giganticus Maximus/DeathKneller(real name unknown), ancient Titan whose origin is still mystery, transforms into a 20 mile long 10 mile maximum width interstellar warship with a black hole powered star destroying weapon that will completely exhaust its entire power supply to fire. It was found drifting in space by Duke O'Death after his former flagship Just Defense, a hijacked Galactic Senate heavy cruiser was crippled in a Battle against Galactic Senate task forces, with almost everything still in working order but nobody on board and The spark field in it destroyed. Its identity as a Titan is hidden from most of The people with parts grafted from other vessels, The destroyed sparkfield cloaked by a medibay for Mechanical lifeforms, and The chamber for its almost always inactive, temptingly presumable as dead cerebral module hidden behind a secrect entrance in Duke O'Death's personal quarters.

Projectile: former Decepticon fire support, bodyguard of Duke O'Death, transforms into a heavy artillery, has a massive hole in his head and cerebral module implanted into his chest. Determined and simple minded, Projectile does not think much beyond his own duty, and luck would have it, he almost always gets a reliable commander.

Pulldown: Former Decepticon road transport team, bodyguard of Duke O'Death, transforms into a wheeled heavy duty tractor, partner and mobility aid to Projectile. Similarity Determined and simple-minded, but also smart and confident, she would almost always finish her job with flying colors.

Heavytoll: Decepticon logistics support, transforms into a two wheeled heavy tractor, has no legs in robot mode and has to use his hands to walk and work, and doesn't believe in perfection.

Hardcore: Decepticon morale officer, Victim of an especially and deliberately botched Empurata-shadowplay combo, transforms into and R129 Mercedes SL 73 AMG sports car. Formerly a musician and DJ For underground radio in Tarn who was framed by a disgruntled neighbor which causes him to have his hands melted into nubs and mind completely destroyed; although he would later become a performer for Megatron during his gladiatorial fights after Hook rebuilt his hands as much as he can and gave him his mouth back. Capable of instigating neutrals and even weak minded Autobots into fighting for Decepticon with his music.

Trashmaster, Functionist universe Model worker, transforms into a garbage truck, being a lower caste worker who almost always have to clean up after The frequent pogrom of The disposable class, Trashmaster was forced to work hard to try and survive. However, hia hard work only ended up in tighter schedule and more demanding quotas that takes further toll on his physical and mental health which caused him to becomes addicted to at first drinking, before an escalation towards Circuit buffers, Circuit boosters and Circuit Speeders to cope with The pressure of cleaning up more and more bodies and maintaining a public Appearance, until his mental programming finally snapped and began ingesting Energon off corpses of The disposed and at first later extended to murder and cannibalization of still living Transformers which were overlooked by functionaries to keep the facade running.

Combiner teams:

Succorbots(pronunciation: Secure-bots<by Autobots and beings leaning towards goodness>/Sucker-bots<by Decepticons and beings leaning towards evil and uncaring>), Autobot search and rescue team similar to Protectobots, combines into Lifeline.

Members:

Speedbump, Leader and surgeon, transforms into an armored command and rescue truck, almost totally blind due to damage of brain module by a gunshot would inflicted by a Decepticon named Tailgater, Pacifist, never carries weapon, can't see beyond arm's length, still actively does search and rescue on battlefield. Torso of Lifeline.

Sundance, Medic, transforms into a UH-60 rescue helicopter, almost got killed by her spark brother before the war and was rescued by Speedbump and became his protege, also studies Psychology in hopes of trying to cure her brother. Left Arm of Lifeline.

Skylift, Transporter and Anesthesist, transforms into a heavy lift tiltrotor, was a Decepticon until the Faction became less about improving The life of The lower caste, The most aggressive of The group, gets a little excited when regular anesthetics fail to knock their lights out sometimes. Right arm of Lifeline and usually pairs with Recoil.

Signal, detector, minesweeper and hazard disposal, transforms into a wheeled ground penetrating radar/mine detector, formerly a treasure hunter who was enthralled by The experience finding life after a major earthquake killed his old partner, left leg of Lifeline, can ne paired with Recoil in vehicle mod.

Biclaw, debris cleaner and hazard disposal expert, transforms into a twin boom excavator with both caterpillar track and retractable legs, former construction, great at digging but still still slightly clumsy at medical, Right leg of Lifeline.

Recoil, Armsbot(arms micron but larger), security, transforms into a automatic incapacitator launcher, appointed by Autobot high command to make sure the team doesn't get killed, pairs with Skylift and can be used as a weapon for Lifeline(although Speedbump would not use it unless the other member insists).

Decapiticon, Decepticon Genocider group, used by Decepticon high command at most dangerous place in order to destroy enemies and hopefully these mentally unstable mechanical monstrosities would die in it too. Combines into Autocide.

Members:

Obsolence/Obselence, leader, triple changer, Empurata Victim, extremely Eugenic supporter, worshipper of powerful beings such as Quintesson; Unicron and Hytherion, wishes to be a Phase sixer or Warrior Elite, turns into an armored Fire truck with a heavy flamethrower and an Ekranoplan with heavy missiles, and The torso of Autocide.

Annihilate, ax/saw crazy helicopter gunship, wears a mask and favorite weapon is his armscon Powersaw. Would Kill anyone that's not his Decapiticon buddies if he pleases, Right arm of Autocide.

Thud, Sociopathic antisocial, turns into a heavy tank, The smartest of The bunch and only isn't The torso because he was beaten into submission by Obsolence, still wants to challenge leadership ever now and then, Right leg of Autocide.

Knackercracker, a lover of fighting unfair, turns into a wheeled MLRS that can sprout wings, Right arm of Autocide. Most normal member of The group, although The standard isn't really high.

Nonclockwise, seeker, transforms into a strike Aircraft, mind filled with contrary thoughts so much that it can only think straight when commiting war crimes. Left leg of Autocide.

Powersaw, Armscon, turns into a large circular saw. An unfortunate steel worker who witnessed his coworkers and friends murdered before being kidnapped and enslaved by The killers when The war broke out, Powersaw has no choice but comply and hope to be out of The misery as soon as possible. Handheld weapon of Annihilate and Autocide.

Clearifycons, Decepticon infiltrators that turns into sanitary related equipments. Combines into Stinkatron.

Members:

Dumpster, Leader, interrogator and intel gatherer, turns into a Dumpster truck and mobile trash crusher, an absolute slob coated in a concoction of blood, energon, tissue fluid and other substances that are absolutely repugnus to enemies, loves to destroy things that are considered beautiful. is The torso, left arm and namesake of Stinkatron.

Sewer, infiltrator and saboteur, turns into a "mobile waste fluid disposal unit", The most miserable being probably ever seen because of The body he was constructed cold in, and uses the negativity to absolutely raise hell to The enemies. Lower left leg of Stinkatron.

Sweepvan, infiltrator and assassin, turns into a streets sweeper truck, has mysophobia, and tries to keep enthusiasm for The job. Left hip and right leg of Stinkatron.

Grassflyer, infiltrator and surveillance, turns into an industrial mower. Often mentally detached from The work of cleaning, Grassflyer would uses circuit buffer(opposite effect to circuit booster) agent to break up The monotony which causes him to pick up other things. Lower left arm of Stinkatron.

Stratum, strategist and scout, turns into a sanitations department patrol station wagon, The smartest of The group who was kidnapped by his Sanitation department colleagues into The Decepticon cause, Stratum is trying to find balance of searching for means of escape and survival. Head and upper right arm of Stinkatron.

#Transformers #transformers design #Transformers Character #original character design #fictional character #original character

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iobsessoverfictionalmen · 3 months ago

Text

Spooktober (3) - A terrible promise

Warnings: soulmate au and spoilers for Wandavision.

“He is a vile, reprehensible excuse for a human being!” You stormed into Darcy’s lab with a scowl and sat down with a loud thud, jostling the equipment on the desk.

“Whoa! Easy with the aggression!” Darcy yelped grabbing for her coffee cup as it tilted next to her laptop, threatening to spill its contents over her keyboard. “I’m guessing the meeting didn’t go well?”

“It didn’t,” Agent Jimmy Woo confirmed.

“What? Did the big bad Hayward bench us?”

“It would have been so much better if he had!” You complained heatedly before dropping your head into your hands.

There was silence and then Darcy broke it by complaining that no one ever told her anything important. Captain Monica Rambeau entered the lab just in time to catch the end of Darcy’s complaint and shooting you a remorseful look, which you didn’t see because your head was till in your hands, she spoke.

“(Name) began to see colour the second we walked into the command centre.”

“Oh,” Darcy gasped in understanding. She pulled herself out of her chair and walked over to you. She patted you on the shoulder awkwardly, “Are you sure it’s him?”

You raised your head, “We were the only four people in the room.”

Darcy blew out a breath, “Well, this sucks for you.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Jimmy held up his hand, “But this isn’t the first time that you’ve been in the same room as Hayward.”

“Besides,” Monica interjected, “I’ve heard rumours that Hayward’s married. A soul bond wouldn’t activate if one of the people involved is already taken.”

“That’s a good point.”

“Your body could have been reacting to the presence of your soulmate even if they weren’t in the room with us.”

Hope began to spread through you, “Maybe it’s not Hayward after all.”

“Hold up!” Jimmy made a T shape with his hands, “Can we go back to the part where Hayward is married? Who would marry him? I wonder what they’re like. They must have the patience of a saint to put up with him. Or maybe he’s subm-”

“Jimmy, I beg you not to finish that sentence,” you pleaded.

“Right yeah,” Jimmy shuddered. “I don’t want that mental image either.”

Monica looked similarly grossed out while Darcy seemed intrigued by the fact that Hayward was married.

An alarm rang out unexpectedly causing you to flinch reflexively, “WEAPONS OFFLINE! WEAPONS OFFLINE!” A robotic voice shrieked.

You covered your ears as the alarm and the voice continued, “WHAT COULD CAUSE THAT?!” You shouted over the noise.

“NORMALLY I’D SAY AN EMP BUT IF THAT’S THE CASE THEN WE WOULDN’T BE HEARING THE-”

The robotic voice stopped booming as abruptly as it started and Jimmy cut himself off. He stared at the speaker in the ceiling with an expression of dread on his face. Darcy raised her raised her eyes to stare at the same spot with her hands covering her ears.

“That’s not a good thing right?!” She exclaimed, removing one of her hands from her ears to point at the quiet speaker.

There was a crackling sound followed by a popping sound and all of the technology in the lab suddenly shut down.

“Yeah, that’s not good.” Monica agreed, walking over to Darcy’s machines and trying to manually turn them back on.

“YOU POSSESS SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO THE GODS!” A thunderous voice rang out, brimming with the promise of ancient power and retribution.

Now it was your turn to stare up at the ceiling, wondering if the voice was coming through the speaker. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Monica, Jimmy and Darcy falling to their knees with the heels of their palms pressed into their temples.

Your breathing grew ragged as it dawned on you why you were the only one still standing and not clutching your head.

“BRING HER TO MY TEMPLE ON THE EDGE OF TOWN OR THE HEX ENCIRCLING WESTVIEW WILL BE THE LEAST OF YOUR WORRIES!” The voice declared ominously.

When she was certain that the voice wouldn’t say anything else, Darcy lowered her hands from her head and still kneeling, she grinned up at you, “He called it The Hex.”

The smile that appeared on your face at Darcy’s comment was wiped off your face when Monica spoke as she climbed to her feet, “The only temple on the edge of town belongs to the Greek God of War.”

Your breath whooshed out of you at her statement.

Jimmy exhaled, “Well, at least your soulmate isn’t Hayward.” He said with a tone of forced cheer.

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