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the-raven-lady · 3 months ago

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(Not) The Savior You Long For [Part 2]

[Masterlist] [My Ko-Fi]

Pairing: Night Lord (OC: Elias Rushorik) x serf!Reader [fem]

Song Inspiration: Jaws - Sleep Token [YouTube] [Spotify] “And I’m not here to be / the savior you long for / Only the one you don’t. / Are you watching me / with eyes of a predator / As you move towards the door?”

Warnings: Violence, cannibalism, explicit and detailed blood and gore, Night Lord things, ownership over reader, accidental voyuerism (sound only), trypanophobia (medical syringe)

Word Count: 3.7k

Author’s Note: 1.6k words of this are just an introduction that I wrote before I even got into the meat of it, completely by accident, because I do not know how to write without adding 30 layers of context and background (4D chess ass writing). Special thank you to @cannibalise for giving me delectable ideas and reading over some of the more graphic parts to help me set the tone!!!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual

@lemon-russ @moodymisty @dedios-of-the-word @pickpocketing-your-gender @historitor-bookshelf

Even weeks later, you struggle to shake the psychological mark the terminator’s gaze left on you. You make yourself busy sweeping one of the main halls, pushing your broom robotically up and down the grand passageway. The other legion serfs around you serve a similar purpose: readying the ship for the return of your Primarch and his elite troops. The Nightfall had been in orbit of this planet for naught but a week, dealing with a cultish tech-society and its oppressive government, yet the Night Lords managed to convince them to join the Imperium in record time.

Convince is a strong word. You’re intimately aware that the discussion was had in the language of acts of violence and burned cities. Having once been on the receiving end of the Eighth’s hedonistic wrath, the thought sends an unpleasant chill through you, memories of mutilation and dismemberment still so clear in your mind. It had taken months for you to stop having panic attacks at the metallic tang of fresh blood. The whirr of a heavy flamer still got to you.

On one of your passes, you sweep by the alley leading to the armory and stop, staring down the dark hall. The serf no longer hangs from the torch bracket, and the astartes that attacked you no longer sits limply against the wall. His armor had been picked at and ‘recycled’ back into the legion. You have no idea what became of either body.

Another memory involuntarily takes you back to the night you had been so narrowly saved by the terminator.

—No, you could not call him your savior. He had just wanted his armor shined, and there was something in his way so he removed it. Night Lords are selfish, self-interested and sadistic, and he was no different.

You rested the massive helmet in your lap as you worked, scraping at filth that had built up for who knows how long. It amazed you that the astartes it belonged to could even see through the lenses given how much dried blood was crusted on them. It came off in flakes before dissolving into the moisture of the wash rag. You could have called the stained fabric spotless when you started compared to how soiled with grime it was now; at a glance, no one would be able to tell that it was white before.

The terminator’s eyes watched you like final judgement. The weight of his gaze instilled an unease in your heart, stabbing at every opportunity it could: each time you looked up at him, each time you lost focus, each time you caught a glimpse of the mangled Night Lord on the floor. It all hammered at a primal spike of dread that threatened to overwhelm you, consume you entirely, reminding you that you were only alive because you were useful. The tension was just as strong as when you had been pinned to the wall or huddled on the floor.

Your washcloth eventually reached a point where it was only smearing the grime rather than removing it, and you looked up to your silent master. The power of his presence alone made you hesitant to speak, and you found your throat suddenly parched. When you eventually recovered your voice, it left you as a croak, “I-I need to grab my water pail from the other room.”

He simply continued to stare at you, unmoving. As still as the gargoyles adorning the hall. You thought for a second that maybe he hadn’t heard you, and you opened your mouth to try again.

”I need to—“

”Then do it.”

You flinched. A rolling storm, his simple response left no room for questioning. Carefully placing his helmet onto the bench, you scuttled off to retrieve the bucket from the other room. His gaze burnt holes into your back.

The water in your bucket was a rusty brown slop when you returned to it. All of the heavier contaminants had settled to the bottom in a coagulated mass while you were away, gelatinous flesh and tangled hair weaving throughout. You lifted the heavy pail, careful not to spill any of the vile concoction onto yourself. Passing by, you noted that the other serf’s water was substantially less dingy than your own, and you didn’t think twice to grab it instead. It’s not as if it was of any use to her now.

The squelch of meat being torn and defiled echoed suddenly through the otherwise silent armory, instinctually gluing you to your spot on the floor. Cracks and crunches of something solid breaking bounced around you. The abrasive sounds left your heart fluttering and nerves electric, and a panicked tension flowed through your limbs as fight or flight tried its damndest to take over.

‘It would be safer to hide, hide, retreat to safety,’ it erroneously cried, weighing you down like lead. A comforting lie.

One you refused to give in to.

‘There is no safety here,’ you retorted, ‘Only certain death.’ A wolf’s den, and you were the doting lamb. The fear of facing punishment for taking too long far outweighed the hesitation to continue, and you willed yourself to step forward through the icy shackles binding you.

The sight of the terminator tearing flesh from the body of his former brother froze you as you rounded the corner with your pail. His eyes were glazed in manic pleasure as he ripped off another juicy chunk, sharp teeth effortlessly dissecting muscle fibers from the cooling corpse. Bestial snarling and slurping accompanied every chomp, and growls at a pitch nearly too deep to hear rattled through your bones like a saw. With each gnash of his powerful jaws, blood and spit shot out of the torn hole in his mouth, drooling down his armor in crimson dribbles.

Time itself seemed to stop when his predatory gaze found you. His dilated pupils completely swallowed the outer corners of white— could you even consider them dilated when they took up so much of his eyes already?— and pinned you in place. The ravenous beast swallowed his kill in a silent threat.

You were about to make a run for it when he lowered the defiled corpse and snarled at you, foreign viscera spewing from his scar.

”Finish.”

You had done exactly as you were told while the terminator continued to make a mess of himself. Once you’d finished his helmet, he made you clean off the rest of his armor as a token of a job well done.

A strong dissonance contrasted the perfectly shined ceramite and rags of human hide adorning his war gear. You didn’t understand at first why the Night Lords would go through such lengths to clean their armor, only to decorate it with the disgusting tokens of their kills and bathe it in blood again, but over time you began to recognize the mentality. The layers of blood were a byproduct of their work— terrifying in their own right, yes, however ultimately just ‘part of the job’—, but each placement of flesh and bone was deliberate; they chose to wear them. It added terror to their already gruesome countenance.

You figure you must have done well polishing his armor, because the terminator had left you alive in the end. As expected, he gave you no feedback. No thanks or gratitude shown before he simply walked off. For the second time that day, you were left in the armory with a huge mess to clean entirely on your own.

Shaking your head, you return to the present and continue sweeping, pushing the pile of dust around to keep yourself busy.

Sharp clanks of heavy boots cut through the relative peace. You look down the hall to see other serfs parting ways and scurrying off to make way for a coming company of giants. Their armor dwarfed that of the regular Night Lords, tanks of metal and firepower that razed battlefields in their wake.

The Contekar Elite.

You knew of them from hushed whispers passed between serfs in the chow hall. Units of butchers that sowed despair in the hearts of their foes. Ruthless in how they constantly checked one another, the Contekar took advantage of any perceived weakness to prove their dominance over the rest of the legion. They were notorious for simply killing any commanders they disagreed with, and only the likes of First Captain Sevatarion or the Lord Night Haunter himself could tame them.

Each colossus carried weapons as long and large as your entire body as they approached: chainblades, flamers, and cavitators, all ready to be used at a moment's notice. You hurried to get out of their way, tucking yourself behind a hallway corner. The monoliths of steel shook the ground with each step, a deafening thunder echoing down the main hall that signaled their arrival. There was no chorus or fanfare amongst them to be found; each marine was as silent as death itself.

They ignored you as they passed by. The Contekar couldn’t care less for the meddlings of a common legion serf, too busy with themselves to notice you, and it brought you shallow comfort.

At least, it would have.

Preoccupied with watching the marines at your front passing by, you didn’t realize that one of them was headed straight towards you until his footfalls physically rattled the ground beneath you. You whip your head towards him and nearly jump out of your skin, clutching to the corner of the wall as he stares down at you.

His entire body is marred with blood. Even from where you cower, you can see that he must be at least three meters tall in his armor, if not more. The digits of his power claw have pieces of mangled flesh still caught between their hydraulic pistons, forming webs between them. A mummified head dangles at eye level from a meat hook, and it crosses your mind that it could have been yours.

You recognize his tusked helmet immediately.

The Contekar studies you. He is a perfect statue: unmoving and silent aside from the faint whirring emanating from the power pack on his back. Behind the scarlet lenses, his eyes scrutinize you down to your very last atom. A lion picking apart its prey.

“Come,” he orders, his gruff voice offering no further explanation. He takes a step away from you with the intent to continue further down the passage, and you suddenly find your limbs leaden and weak, unable to follow. Sensing your trepidation, his head turns back towards you, eyes locking on yours. The faded skull decal isn’t as cute when you’re at the receiving end of its ire.

Pain shoots up your left arm as you’re yanked off of the wall and lifted without another word. The cold metal of the Escaton power claw digs into your bones uncomfortably, sharpened claws at each fingertip poking into your flesh. The terminator grasps you by your forearm and drags you beside him until you can find your footing and walk on your own, stumbling into a jog to keep up. When you retrieve your arm, partially dried pieces of viscera stick to it from where you were grabbed. You brush them off hastily with a grimace; at least the power claw didn’t break skin.

You hug closely to the terminator’s leg as you walk with the group, not wanting to get trampled. The other serfs mostly keep their heads down as you pass them by, but a few give you a sympathetic look. The rest of the Contekar continue to ignore you.

The suites housing the Elite are grander than any part of the ship you have been in thus far. Compared to the regular Night Lord’s dorms, the metal halls leading to their private quarters are pristine. The usual decor of skulls and tanned skins is present, but there is no buildup of filth and grime along the floors and walls. The scent of fresh air is jarring. Most surprising to you is that each of the marines has their own private rooms, which you learn when you are unceremoniously shoved into one.

The tusked terminator’s room is shockingly comfortable, for a Night Lord. A thin light strip, the same brightness of a full moon on your former world, serves as the only illumination of the dark room. Along the walls are various trophies that you assume are from his time in the field, both of his kills and plunders. A large work table and chair take up the whole of the wall to your right. Instead of a regular astartes-sized cot, there is an actual bed with pillows and a wide plush mattress. In the back corner of the room is a closed door, which you assume leads to a washroom.

Whoever your new charge was, he lives well.

A click catches your attention, and you turn to your left to see him removing the heavy pauldrons of his armor. He places each of them on the sturdy table, then turns his attention to his power claw, his gauntlets, his vambraces— steadily pulling them off one plate at a time. After removing his helmet, shakes out his greasy black hair and turns to look at you with a furrow in his brow.

You remember your place and jump into action, aiding the marine in removing his sabatons. The plates of ceramite are much too heavy for you to lift on your own, but it’s easier for your smaller hands to get into the creases to release locks and latches. The two of you enter a wordless synergy, pulling off the heavy terminator armor piece by piece and placing each on a designated mantle. You’re extra careful not to get caught on the hooks of his armor. The desiccated head serves as a good reminder.

Even reduced to just his body glove, the astartes is colossal. His height easily dwarfs the majority of his brothers. You have to crane your neck upwards to look at his face, barely coming up to chest level on him. This close, you can see the sprinkling of grey hair within his sideburns and the lines of his face that indicate some arbitrary older age. You never did know how to tell the ages of astartes.

He uses his newfound freedom to stretch his limbs. Each is as broad as a tree trunk, and you figure they’re likely just as immovable. When he catches you staring and waiting, he simply returns the look, quietly raising an eyebrow.

“Would you like your armor shined, my lord?” you try, gesturing vaguely to the table and mantle. His eyes track the movement, looking over his war gear in silence before he gives you a curt nod. He points to a drawer beside his bed, then without further clarification turns his attention to removing his body glove.

Within the drawer you discover a stack of folded shop towels. Why they’re there is a mystery to you. Judging by the size of the terminator armor, you decide three is enough for now, grabbing them and sliding the drawer shut. You look up to ask if the Contekar has any armor oil around, only to see him half-naked walking through the door in the corner. It swings shut behind him, leaving you once again to solve your problems on your own.

You wonder what force in this universe blessed you with such a communicative master.

It took him three entire days to tell you, “you live here,” instead of simply denying you the ability to leave and making you sleep on the floor. You swore he was going to turn your rib cage into a new trophy when you eventually did get out, trying to navigate your way back to the serfs’ dormitory for much needed food. He had hunted down like a rabbit, snatched you up from behind, and thrown you back into his quarters with a growl to, “stay put.” What the terminator lacked in words, he greatly made up for with his intimidating presence.

He did get you food, though, and an abundance of it. You hadn't seen so much variety since you were still living on your home planet. Delicacies like meat were rare to you, and you eagerly scarfed everything down. In your hunger, you did not ask where the meat came from.

It’s not as if he would have told you anyway, given how scantily he spoke. You haven’t even gotten his name out of him yet.

The only times you were permitted to leave the suite were when you could accompany him. Trips to the armory gave you vital chances to hoard cleaning supplies, having gotten accustomed to the lesser atmosphere of decay around the Elites’ quarters. On top of the standard armor oils, you managed to snag an expensive looking jar of polish, which you hoped would gain you some favor. Your master doesn’t particularly show you signs of care, but he also hasn’t killed you yet, and that has to be worth something.

On your way back to his quarters, a discordant howling rings out from one of the rooms adjacent to his. You flinch at the sound, assuming the worst: that somebody nearby was in the midst of being tortured and flayed alive, and that you would have to hear their slow untimely demise throughout the night. It wouldn’t be the first time you had to fall asleep to the sounds of screams and cries. The Contekar, however, scoffs. His nose scrunches up in annoyance, teeth bared in a disgusted snarl.

“Don’t understand the appeal,” he grunts, shaking his head and continuing forward.

Glancing over in confusion, you start to pay more attention to the sound. The rhythmic pattern of each holler and whine. The sound of skin on skin. The quiet pleas of, “more, please, more!”

Your eyes widen when you put two and two together, ducking your head down to hide the blush steadily rising on your cheeks. That was not the type of torture you were expecting to hear. You pick up the pace and hope the terminator doesn’t recognize your sudden newfound urgency.

He allows you to store your armory stash in his bedside drawer alongside the rags. It nearly knocks you over when he throws an arm out to keep you from closing it, sending you staggering back with a huff. He removes one of the towels, then abruptly drops it over the top of your head. You don’t even get the chance to remove it before you’re being pushed in a direction, blindly stumbling along. A transition strip between some passageway causes you to trip and fall to the floor. Pulling the towel off of your head, your vision clears to the sight of the bathroom.

You shoot the terminator a bewildered look before he lifts you by the back of your shirt and throws you underneath a showerhead, giving you no warning before turning it on. The cold jet hits you like a hose spray, causing you to yipe at the sudden temperature shock. Freezing water saturates your clothes.

He breathily laughs at your agonized shiver.

Despite the rude beginning, you return from the washroom refreshed, feeling for the first time like your skin isn’t permanently encrusted with the gunk lining nearly every surface of the ship. It had been weeks since you could last bathe in any capacity. The water did warm up eventually– not warm, but not frigid– and allow you to scrub the filth off.

When you exited the shower, your master was nowhere to be seen, and there was a new uniform on the oversized counter. It wasn’t difficult to tell that it was intended for you, given the vast size difference between you and the Elite. The navy blue outfit bears an embroidery of the Eighth’s winged skull over each shoulder and lines of Nostraman text that you are unable to translate. You’re just happy the new garbs aren’t tattered and fraying like the last, which you gleefully toss. They land in the bucket with a wet squish.

As you approach the door to the main room of the quarters, you’re alerted to the sound of quiet conversation, not expecting there to be anyone but the terminator about. The tonal register is too low and quiet for you to make out any spoken words.

You enter the space in time to watch your master sit at the table and place his arm out flat upon it. An apothecary stands beside him unpackaging a syringe. He stabilizes the terminator’s arm in the crux of his shoulder, turning his palm upwards and pressing the bevel of the needle into a prominent vein running distally from the elbow. Crimson liquid slowly fills the barrel as he pulls the plunger back.

The apothecary’s cart bears instruments uncharacteristic of typical medicae. Replacing scalpels and suturing utensils are various packaged needles and pigment bottles. A large battery pack wires into a small rectangular box, the screen and dials illegible to you from your current distance, with a strange metal stylus connected to it. Sitting atop a stack of disposable napkins is a tall wash bottle containing a clear substance. The apothecary flicks the syringe until the bubbles have all risen to the top, slowly venting the air until only blood remains, and he carefully ejects a drop into each of the waiting ink cups.

Your gaze falls back on the Contekar in time to see him rising from his chair and walking towards you. You cower back on instinct, anxiety creeping up from your chest.

He wipes a stray drop of blood from his arm with a thumb, and when you move to question what’s going on, he jams the digit into your mouth. The coppery taste spreads over your tongue as you gag from the intrusion, unable to pull away due to the unyielding grip he has on your jaw. He jerks your head upwards, forcing you to look at him, and the abyss of his black eyes swallows you whole.

“Strip.”

Not everyone saw the art the first time around, so here's your Mans

[Part 3]

#i fucking hate medical needles so that one scene was hard to write for me #the things I do for night lord tattoos #night lord #night lords #night lord x reader #warhammer fanfic #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 30k #horus heresy #warhammer 40k x reader #wh 40k #oc: elias rushorik #raven lady writings

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ckret2 · 2 months ago

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I know that making things not only canon-compliant but canon-plausible is basically your hobby, and you tend to enjoy taking every little detail no matter how inane and incorporating it into the greater lore of your work. Have you ever had a moment where you were trying to find a logical explanation for something, realized that it was EXTREMELY STUPID, and now you just avoid writing things that will make it come up?

I think most fan writers have one piece of canon where they're like "Yeah, no, that was a bad decision, I'm just replacing [unbelievable event/racist character portrayal/blatant disregard for how mental health works in reality/etc] with [piece of fanon that makes it work better]."

Usually, even when there's an obvious author mistake, you still have a cool canon-compliant thing to do with it. Curious if there's any exceptions.

yeah, there's a few things.

Evidence implies that Ford fell in the portal in 1983. Evidence implies that the show takes place during 2012, but maaaybe 2013? The show says he fell in the portal "thirty years ago." He was probably intended to fall in the portal in 1982 but that doesn't line up with some of the dates (particularly, song release dates). Also, exactly how long did he know Bill between meeting him and getting portaled? And exactly how long was the paranoia era? My solution: the show takes place in 2012, Ford got portaled in *mumble mumble*, it's been """thirty""" years since he fell in the portal, we're NOT gonna worry about it, and maybe the Eurythmics released their albums a year earlier in the Gravity Falls universe did you ever think of that? Huh?? But at any rate I just try to quietly glide over the little timeline issues without addressing them.

Anything Bill says that would validate a real world conspiracy theory is a lie; but, much more likely, I'm just never gonna talk about it so we can ignore it completely, especially if the conspiracy theory is antisemitic or racist. "A cabal of global elites secretly rules the world and has a really cool break room"? Bill's lying; but also, we're NOT gonna talk about that, just chucking it out the window completely. "Bill helped fake the moon landing"? We can crack jokes about that one but only to establish that Bill was lying. "The Egyptians made the pyramids look like Bill"? We're NOT gonna claim the Egyptians made the PYRAMIDS for Bill, at most they might have redecorated them; but we're probably not gonna talk about them redecorating the pyramids anyway; and we're gonna crack jokes about how stupid Ancient Aliens style idiocy is; and maybe we're just gonna minimize talking about Bill's relationship with Egypt entirely.

(A side note: one thing i REALLY appreciated from TBOB is that it clearly established that they did not build the pyramids for Bill, just temporarily redecorated them; they did not worship Bill, they thought he was a pest; and the book went out of its way to have Bill say anyone who claims aliens helped with the pyramids is a con artist. It didn't have to do that! But it really improved things a LOT.)

Anything not mentioned by Bill that alludes to iffy real world conspiracy theories, we're just not gonna talk about. "America is secretly ruled by someone other than the president and nobody knows," not gonna talk about that, I don't care that it's Santa. "Dapperly-dressed reptilian aliens," not gonna talk about that, I don't care that they were here to go dog sledding. "Mt. Rushmore is secretly a bunch of robots built to defend America from a future threat," NEVER gonna talk about that, Mt. Rushmore is a carving made by a racist on stolen land sacred to several Native American peoples, it does not deserve to be made cool.

and speaking of Santa: I don't care for Jewish characters getting shoved into Christmas stories, especially if they're "wow, it turns out the Christians were right about the existence of this folkloric figure associated with one of their most important holy days" Christmas stories, so there's a high chance I'm just never gonna mention the Krampus plot lmao. If I do, it'll only be because I need to acknowledge the relationship building Ford & Fidds got. (Or to acknowledge Ford's rage at being commanded to conform to holiday expectations, which is REALLY funny and he's completely right.)

Those are the things off the top of my head.

#anonymous #ask #bill goldilocks cipher

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jerktournament · 1 year ago

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ROUND ONE - Herbert P. Bear (Club Penguin) VS Snowball (Battle for Dream Island)

!!! PROPAGANDA BELOW !!!

HERBERT: "Herbert may be a fandom darling in our fandom of like, 20 people. BUT DON'T LET THAT FOOL YOU! He is a conniving, EVIL bear, and a professional jerk and some highlights of his jerkishness include... - Spending ten years of his life (by the time the game closed) trying to destroy the Penguin Secret Agency and Elite Penguin Force (both were agencies that protected the island from disasters and villains like Herbert) with varying success... - SUCCESSFULLY destroyed the Penguin Secret Agency with a popcorn bomb, which destroyed their HQ. It should also be noted that while doing so, he locked in the player, Rookie, and Gary the Gadget Guy, presumably so the bombs explosion would have killed them all. -Teamed up with the EPF to stop the Ultimate Protobot 10,000 and the Test Bots, a small group of four dangerous robots after he personally brought them back. When Protobot went "too far" for Herbert's standards by threatening the environment and trying to completely destroy the EPF (despite the aforementioned Popcorn Bomb incident literally destroying the PSA, and also a certain Operation: Blackout), causing him to temporarily switch sides. This might sound like a character growth moment...except for the fact that he immediately betrays them once Protobot is dealt with and attacks and damages the EPF's HQ using a robot hydra made for the Medieval Party that he stole. - A canonical ex-dictator. Don't believe me? Look up Operation: Blackout on the Club Penguin Wiki! He froze several agents during his reign of terror, was open to freezing innocent civilians, and also wanted to do away with puffles- the pets of penguins. He also banned several hobbies and professions during his reign (being a Ninja, a DJ, a Pirate, etc) for no reason other than disliking them. He also destroyed the EPF'S HQ and exposed two agents' private information to the public. This means Herbert is the first and only character to canonically dox people he doesn't like on Club Penguin. -Was planning to bomb the EPF literally two months later with a hot sauce bomb (makes sense in context of the game and yes, it is more destructive than it sounds). -Brainwashed puffles into digging coins for him purely because his henchman, Klutzy the crab brought a coin slot to use for his DIY heater, instead of just removing the coin slot and retooling it to work without one like a normal person."

SNOWBALL: "OMG. SNOWBALL. SB. BABYGIRL. MI PRINCESA. HE IS SUCH A JERK. ok so for starters he is very arrogant and cocky (like a jock) and he thinks of himself as better than other contestants. snowball is also very stubborn and doesn't like people telling him what to do, and he often ditch or hurt his teammates for the sake of the challenge, thinking he was in the right to do so. he often intimidates and threatens the hosts of the show he competes on (x in bfb and two in TPOT) and he is also bery unlikeable both to fans and in universe. he was so unlikeable that in the firsr season of the bfdi franchise in a vote to regoin, he got the least votes out of 21 contestants with 8, less than 1/100 of the total votes. because of his behavior he made a reputation for himself among the other contestants, and was picked last for team making in the 5th season/TPOT. even on his new team in TPOT he is give the cold sholder by his teammates. OK NOW TO THE JERKY STUFF HE DID. so first of all he has killed at least 10 people, and he has hurt multiple contestants out of rage or for the challenge multiple times (some examples being when he broke fanny, a member of his older team from season 4 for telling him what to do, or him setting grassy, another member on his team in the 5th season on fire for the challenge. or the time that he punched grassy off inti the distance twice because "he felt like punching something "in episode 3 of TPOT). snowball also sabotaged his team in a challenge on purpose purely because of his ego (episode 4 of TPOT). he is also pretty rude to pretty much anyone and everyone, including hosts. only begrudgingly listening to them if it benefits himself. that is it (sorry for the really long propaganda he is my comfort and my favorite character from his series, i have been nominated as his no. 1 fan)"

#herbert p bear #snowball bfdi #club penguin #battle for dream island #poll #loving the passion behind these two snow lads

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in1-nutshell · 11 months ago

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Hi!

How would TFA team and elite guard react to buddy children?

(Like for example: Buddy adopted some children)

Ooohhh! This is going to be fun! Since you did not specify which characters specifically, I will be picking them at random.

Hope you enjoy!

Optimus, Ratchet, Jazz, and the Jettwins reaction to single parent Human Buddy

SFW, platonic, familial, Human reader

TFA

Buddy was Sari's babysitter.

Well, her human babysitter. Professors Sumdac thought it was important to at least have another person in Sari's life that wasn't him or a robot.

And they were a great babysitter. They had the job roughly 3 years before the Autobots came to Detroit.

That was roughly the time they had recently adopted a set of baby triplets. They had opened their door one night and a classic wicker basket filled with the babies. The note on the basket simply said to take care of them. Buddy's original plan was to take them to Fanzone in the morning.

But Buddy had gotten attached to them.

Buddy explained their new situation to the Professor which was met with understanding and a pay raise with additional medical insurance.

Buddy's friends had noticed their sudden absences and tired look on their face. Everyone was getting worried. So, an intervention was called.

"Why is everyone here?"--Buddy

"It's an intervention kid."--Ratchet

"For who?"--Buddy

"For you! You've been so sleepy and tired recently."--Bumblebee

"Not to mention you missed our game tournament."--Sari

"The gaming--Oooh! I forgot to tell you guys!"--Buddy

"Forgot to tell us what?"--Optimus

"I'll show you guys tomorrow! Make sure to bring the Elie Guard if you guys want!"--Buddy

The next day Buddy came into the base with a baby carrier and two in the stroller.

To say everyone was surprised was an understatement.

Optimus

Vietnam flashbacks to the first episode.

Optimus is surprised to find out that Buddy was taking care of new born children. Even more finding out they are triplets.

Twins are something that rarely happens on Cybertron. Even fewer after the war was over. Triplets were in a sense unheard of.

He is nervous to even touch the little ones. They looked so fragile and tiny! They were even smaller than Sari!

The babies on the other hand were enamored by the firetruck.

By the end of 15 minutes, Optimus had his servos with the triplets who were crawling around and hugging his digits.

He swears to protect these kids with his life.

"Gah!"--Baby 1

"Aw they like you Prime! Isn't that cute, wait are you crying?"--Buddy

Optimus sniffling and trying not to let the tears spill.

"...no-no... I'm fine..."--Optimus

Ratchet

At first Ratchet thinks the smaller humans are the equivalent of human minibots.

Then he finds out they are babies, he stops for a good couple of seconds.

Rebooting: Grampa mode activated.

As said before, it's rare to have twins on Cybertron. He had never seen triplets in all of his technical career.

He suddenly understands why Buddy has been acting the way they had for the past months. They were taking care of the kids.

Ratchet makes sure to brush up on his knowledge of babies to help Buddy out a bit. While Buddy takes a break or a much needed nap, he makes sure the kids are well taken care of.

"Aww. The Doc bot's gone soft!"--Bumblebee

"Hear that kiddo. That's the sound of a bot who's going to get strapped to the medical slab in 5 minutes if he doesn't quit."--Ratchet

"Bah!"--Baby 2

Jazz

Jazz is floored by the amount of cuteness these babies are.

He totally gets why Buddy would be tired from these kids.

It's bad enough trying to keep track of the Jettwins and they are at least old enough to be here. Those babies still have a long way to go before even walking!

Jazz handles the babies with the utmost care. Makes sure that the babies are having fun while being safe.

The babies themselves are enamored by Jazz's voice. He is the to go bot for nap time. The babies fall asleep in record time.

"So these little guys are all related?"--Jazz

"Yeah they are."--Buddy

"I wish you luck then. If the Jettwins were hard enough now..."--Jazz

"...I know Jazz, I know..."--Buddy

Jetfire and Jetstorm

The twins are freaking out!

In a good way!

They've never seen another set of twins back on Cybertron, much less human twins.

Now they know that they know that there can be triplets!...

Jazz has to calm them down before they can hold the babies. And they have to promise Buddy that they will not use their powers around the babies.

The twins once they have the babies are uncharacteristically quiet and still. They take in the tiniest details of the babies and how each one differs from the other.

They promise each other to look after them, even when they get older. Siblings have to stay together. The triplets are now the twins siblings now. Buddy has two more robo kids to take care of.

"Buddy! It's my turn to get 1 but Jetfire isn't letting them go!"--Jetstorm

"Jetfire, listen to your brother and pass your siblings to him, gently."--Buddy

"Please! Just a little longer!"--Jetfire

"You either pass your siblings or they come with me and you have to go back to Sentinel."--Buddy

"Here brother!"--Jetfire

Somewhere on the Steelhaven.

"...Someone just insulted me..."--Sentinel

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #transformers animated #tfa optimus prime #tfa ratchet #tfa jettwins #tfa jazz #tfa x platonic reader #human buddy

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byz-was-here · 3 months ago

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Because no one asked,

Here's how I would do a transformers series:

1) emphasize the disguise

They're robots in disguise. Its in the tagline. Make the bots and cons fight each other while trying not to be noticed.

Why would world conquering deceptions stoop to hiding from puny organics?

Easy. Skew the matchup. If its 8 billion nuclear armed monkeys vs 5-10 alien robots, even ol megsy ain't gonna take those odds.

The Autobots have an even easier reasoning: follow the prime directive.

2) Shipwreck everyone

Why can't the bots/cons just call for reinforcements?

They crash landed. That's why. Everyone's in stasis or injured. Callback to G1 where they spent 4 million years in sleep mode under a volcano. Maybe not *that* long but it would explain why no one noticed two alien starships smacking into the planet. No one was around to see it. Macguffin event happens, a couple bots and cons wake up, and they realize that a wholeass civilization popped up during their nap.

3) Civilian autobots

Why did they come to earth?

As is usually the go to answer: Cybertron's f*cked. Solution: Autobots dig out a *really* old and obscure planetary survey, find a decent enough planet, Optimus takes a bunch of scientists and engineers on a colony ship and they go off to found New Cybertron. Survey said the place was uninhabited, so it's free real estate. (Humans were probably still debating whether or not coming down from the trees and walking on 2 legs was a good idea when the Cybertronian scouts did the survey)

Soundwave does his soundwave thing, finds out, Megatron loads up a warship, and they shoot each other down on prehistoric earth. Meanwhile, a caveman named grug figures out mr fire is your friend.

Point is, you've got one side that's a bunch of scientists, engineers, and other civilians (The Autobots)

And the other that's almost all elite combat troops (the Decepticons)

But, because of the first two issues, the cons can't take advantage of it. Otherwise they alert the Humans and someone with an itchy trigger finger drops a thermonuclear warhead on the stranded nemesis.

And if a human does discover the Autobots? Imo a civilian is more likely to break the rules and play nice than a trained soldier.

4) nobody wants to stay here

The Autobots originally planned to colonize earth, sure. That was before they got shot down, locked into stasis for who knows how long, and woke up to see an entire sapient civilization spring up from nowhere during their nap.

Optimus is Optimus, so it's plan B: freedom is the right of sentient beings, so we fix the ark and found new Cybertron somewhere else. Ideally, the human race won't realize they were ever here.

The Deceptions only care about crushing the Autobots and getting off this corrosive rock. Unless they can call home and summon an armada, it's just not *worth it* to pick a fight with humanity.

6) things I'd like to see

-Skyfire/Jetfire

Jetfire being one of the scouts, getting frozen in a callback to G1, and being found and thawed by some human scientists. He's just living his best life in a hidden lab, and only mildly worried about why Cybertron isn't answering his calls. Oh hey Starscream! When did you get the tattoo? (It's a bad breakup)

-Swindle

Our dystopian capitalist nightmare is Swindle's daydream paradise. He absolutely loves earth. #1 fan. He probably makes connections to the mob. Good times.

-Nightbird

Local mechanized AI (or ghost in the shell cyborg) has an emotional crisis, joins the deceptions. Beats up any Cons that disrespect her. No notes.

-Dinobots

"Wheeljack, why do our new security drones look like...that?"

"So there's this earth movie called "Jurassic Park"..."

Later:

"Wheeljack?"

"Yes optimus?"

"What happened to the sparks that we had in stasis?"

***Tyrannosaurs roar*** Me Grimlock Smash! (Panicked Decepticon screaming)

"Never mind, I think I figured it out."

-one sane adult human

Obvs theres a couple teens who pal around with the Autobots. There should be at least ONE adult in their early 20s as part of the group who's forced, however unwilling, to be the sole voice of reason. Aka: "I'M NOT TELLING YOUR PARENTS YOU GOT SQUISHED SNEAKING INTO AN EVIL ROBOT SPACESHIP"

"Then who's gonna pull off the rescue?"

"I AM!" (They instantly regret this decision, but They're at least old enough to make it)

-Shockwave as a late series villain

Shockwave has had command of the Decepticons ever since Megatron's Ill fated disappearance chasing after the Autobot Ark.

Having him return and upset Shockwave's centuries of effort holding onto the planets in the Deception Empire would be... Unfortunate. Perhaps it would be better if he stayed dead.... It's only logical.

#byzrambles #transfomers #maccadam

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pango-doots · 10 months ago

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Y'know looking back on my time in the NSR fandom it's weird how victimized people tend to make the NSR elites, which I really don't think is warranted beyond Sayu's team and Yinu who are MINORS that were employed into a fascist government system under the guise of success. Yes, NSR was a fascist government, or at the very least an authoritarian hand over a dystopian society.

Even if its general tone is light-hearted and silly, the game tackles themes of propaganda, scapegoating, wealth inequality and planned obsolescence, environmental destruction, media control, saving face for tourists, authoritative voting and more, yet most of them aren't the player's main gameplay focus; a lot of lore and context clues are in the background like the town's layout, interacting with certain objects and talking to NPCs. But those themes are a core message of the game and by only treating the members of NSR as regular old musicians you take out all the nuance.

(Plenty more under the cut. TL;DR: No Straight Roads is a relevantly socio-political game and I wish fans would utilize that side of the characters more)

Both halves of the "music war" as I'm gonna call it for lack of an official term had their faults, and I do like that there is no 100% right or wrong side; no straight road, if you will. BUT ALSO. BBJ realized the entire city was suffering in some way under NSR's leadership and had nothing to lose by challenging the status quo (they literally live in a fucking sewer, I'd be full of rage too). They didn't benefit from initial fame, wealth, or military protection like NSR did; not to mention they were also egged on and decieved by one of their closest allies. When voices don't work ala DK West's attempt, then you turn to action. Action can include smacking the shit out of government officials, as a treat (I enjoyed every second trying to get an S rank in Supernova's level <3)

On that note, the woobification is ESPECIALLY bad with DJSS, Neon J and 1010. I love the silly object heads and smexy robots as much as anyone else but they are specifically meant to be critiques of self-absorbed billionaires (sorry to tell DJSS fans this but he's supposed to be Elon-Musk-adjacent) and the k-pop industry with its military involvement, plus the use of militial force to keep rowdy citizens in line. I'm begging people to PLEASE handle them with more care.

Thankfully, it's clear that NSR reduces its chokehold by the end of the game and all the artists put in a lot of work to improve thanks to BBJ's push. Whether the game's writers made that decision to appeal to their own government's approval or was a genuine end to the story, I like that Tatiana has a moment of reflection and does a complete 180 to make the city better in the end (beyond the threat of the city being destroyed ofc). Even if it's unrealistic, it's a hopeful message and shows that anyone can be corrupted by the right circumstances.

Just PLEASE don't forget the characters' actions and choices along the way for the sake of ship fics and cute art. There's a lot of complexity and angst you can add to the characters with that authoritarian history!

#I doubt this will really change anything. fandoms will fandom. maybe I can give ppl ideas tho #if I get discourse over this post I'll yell btw. it's not made in bad faith #BUT I'm getting back into this game after some drama and it's smth that always bugged me as a budding punk. had to rant abt it a little #y'know I'm kinda realizing 1010's entire shtick is like if you made a swat team into tumblr sexymen. not sure how to feel abt that #no straight roads #nsr #nsr spoilers #dj subatomic supernova #1010 #long post #pango yells #a pango original #doot.txt #rated t for teen

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soapdispensersalesman · 1 year ago

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I love visual novels, but sometimes I don't have the imagination powers for these shots where the game just lets you stare at a wall while the character describes what's going on.

#robotics;notes #robotics notes #visual novel #nitroplus #5pb #mages #screenshot #no context #vn #video game #2012 #robotics:notes elite #robotics notes elite

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miyuhpapayuh · 1 year ago

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𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝.

"You're just gonna stare at me, huh?"

For the past five minutes, Anthony has been sitting across from Simone, watching her slowly sip on her second margarita, her fiery gaze set and stuck on him.

It had been a long–almost three months since she'd been able to look him in his face, and if possible, he was even more handsome.

"I'm mad at you." She finally speaks, cutting her eyes at him, before looking towards Jasmine, in her silk, red dress with a daring slit up the thigh, dancing with her husband.

"I wanted to surprise you."

"You succeeded, but I'm still mad."

"Nah, you're just stubborn. I know you're happy to see me, princess." He confidently states.

"I never said I wasn't."

"Can you act like it, then?" He rounds the table to sit beside her, pulling her into his side, smirking as she melts into him.

"I didn't get in a helicopter and fly fifteen hours ahead of my schedule, just to watch you pout."

“What did you just say?” She asks, turning her head to look up at him.

“You heard me. I rearranged my whole day to be here. Even if it's just the reception, cause I knew how important this was to you. So… get that frown off your face.”

Instantly fixing her pout, it’s replaced by shock. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He mocks, leaning for a kiss that she eagerly meets him halfway for.

“You said you couldn’t make it! I thought that was finite.” She softly defends.

“You're right, but you know I always pull through for you, too.” He says, smiling down at her.

“I missed you,” she finally says, before sighing dramatically.

“God, that hurt you, didn't it?” He asks, smirking at the look on her face.

“It really did!” She obnoxiously nods, making him laugh.

“I missed you too, with your spoiled ass.”

“All your fault and none of mine,” she laughs, grabbing her glass from the table and taking the last couple sips of the strong drink.

“You smell good,” he plants his face right into her neck, inhaling her scent.

“Thank you— stop!” She giggles, pushing him away as he starts to nibble on the area. He beams back, behaving this time.

“You smell good too, my favorite cologne.” She smiles, leaning back into him.

“I always keep a bottle near for that reason,” he notes, just as Simone's sister dances over to where they're sitting.

“Hey, lovebirds!”

“Hey, April! Nice to see you again.” He greets, as they slap hands like old friends.

“Always fun runnin’ into you, Ant!” She slurs.

“How many drinks have you had, dude?” Simone asks, staring at the glass of brandy in her hand.

“Well, including this one,” she holds the glass up, “three. I might have one more.”

“Be careful, April.”

“Girl, lighten up a little. I'm a big girl, I'm good.” She smiles, patting Anthony's shoulder. “I'm glad you're back. Take care of my girl, here.”

“Always.” He smiles back, while she makes her way back to the dance floor.

He turns to his pouty date, softly chuckling. “She seems to be enjoying herself.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she left the ball and chain at home.” She replies.

“Hm. Come dance with me.” He says, pulling her up and out of her funk with his “elite” dance moves. Her giggles are futile as he hits his famous robot for her.

“So stupid,” she says through her laughing fit, swooning as he pulls closed the space between them, grasping her left hand into his right.

Her cheeks grow a deep crimson as a couple of Jada's cousins give their whistles of approval.

“That means they like me, right?”

“Yeah, they like you,” she pecks his lips, “who wouldn't?”

“You act like you don't sometimes, but I know the real.”

“You get on my nerves. Multiple things can be true, I suppose.” She shrugs.

“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Mmhm.”

˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.̑ෆ₊̣̇˟̑ෆ

Driving down to the beach at two in the morning, was definitely not in her original plans. But, when you've got a beautiful man whispering in your ear, you'd be persuaded into just about anything.

"How was the wedding?" Idris asks, resting his right hand on her knee, drawing small circles into her skin.

"It was beautiful. I cried a lot, like usual. Her dress. Her hair. The flowers. The church!, their union and those vows— wow. One of my favorite weddings, by far." Simone gushes.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. You definitely drank enough to." He teases.

"Free bar! Of course, I'm taking advantage. Don't do that, when you knocked back those three glasses of Brandy." She points her finger at him, as he pulls into a parking spot, just minutes away from their destination.

"I had to catch up with you, babygirl." He cuts the car off and hops out, heads over to her side to open her door for her and locks the car up.

Their index fingers naturally intertwine as they start their trek towards the sand. The midnight blue sky gives the scenery before them a calm feeling.

Stopping for a moment, Simone slips her sandals off and hooks them on her fingers, sighing as the gritty sand finds a home between her toes.

"I haven't been to the beach in the longest time." She mumbles as they get closer to the water.

"I'll make sure you see it more often," he responds without so much as a second thought. She shakes her head fondly, absentmindedly clutching his hand tighter.

A breeze sends a slight shiver through her, and he disconnects their hands long enough to shrug out of his suit jacket and sling it over her shoulders.

"Thank you," she says. Her tone takes on a genuine warmth that doesn't mirror the acidity from earlier.

For a moment they simply stroll in a comfortable silence, nature's symphony being the only thing heard.

"Ya know, Allura's fourth anniversary is around the corner. I could use a date." She speaks up as she swings their arms between them.

"What?" He asks with fake shock, "around all those pesky cameras that I'm sure are gonna be there all night?"

"I mean I could ask my other options to join me if you're not down."

"Other options?” He asks with a chuckle. “Not after the speech you gave me the other night!”

She immediately cackles, squeezing his hand. “I'm only kidding!”

“Oh, I know it.” He nods, matter-of-factly, sending her eyes rolling. “And, I'd love to accompany you, princess.”

She will never grow tired of hearing that name.

"You basically own the place now, don't you?" He continues.

"Absolutely not! That's all Rose's baby."

"I think she'd disagree. You're the only one who's been there since its inception. You're just as responsible for it being as big as it is. I see just how much you do to keep it running so smoothly."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, sir." Her tone is light, but she was grateful the darkness of the night cloaked the ever present rosiness of her cheeks.

Slinking back up to her place after their lovely night, it was well into the wee hours of the morning.

They stop in front of her front door where she turns to face him, looking up into his eyes.

"Thank you for showing up for me tonight. You made an already fantastic night...perfect." She had to remember to lay off the alcohol whenever he was involved. Soon enough she'd be laying all her cards on the table, and that was a severe no-no in her book.

"Anytime at all." He moves a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, trailing his hand down the side of her neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. "Can I keep you warm tonight?"

The answer is already in her starry eyes, but she unlocks the door and pulls him inside by his belt buckle, sealing the deal.

Once the door closed, his lips and hands were on her, carefully unzipping her dress before helping her step out and tossing it, along with her thong, onto her side chair. She pushes his suit jacket and shirt away, tossing it onto the same chair.

As he carries her down the hall, her hand pats the wall, flipping the light on so she could see him and make sure this moment was actually happening.

“How thoughtful of you,” she snorts once she pulls away from their liplock for a breath, her body being sat on her kitchen counter, her legs wrapping around him.

“I do what I can,” he cheekily responds, recapturing her lips, taking her breath away again.

His hot mouth trails down her neck, locating her hot spot with ease, making her moan and move her hands from his shoulders to his belt buckle.

Assisting in pushing the rest of his clothes away, he sank into her and revels in the deep gasp that left her. Her hands find his shoulders.

“Anthony…” she breathlessly moans, as he wastes no time pounding into her. Her ankles uncross and roll from the chills that creep up her spine.

“Missed you, baby.. fuck, you feel so good.” He moans, bending down to kiss her lips, then her neck, still mumbling his praises to her.

She leans back onto the counter, throbbing all over as his open-mouthed kisses land on her sensitive breasts, making her body fall all the way onto the surface.

“Oh my god, please,” she moans, biting her lip and shutting her eyes tight at the overload of him.

Her hands didn't know where to land as his thrusts continued to jack up her breathing, sending her higher up than the alcohol ever could.

“I'm gonna, fuck!— cum,” she moans, squeezing her thighs against his waist, trying her best to ride that first wave of pleasure as it coursed through her whole body.

“That's it, princess. Gimme that good shit— gah damn.” He praises, kissing all over her skin.

Slowing down to give her a moment of reprieve, his slow grind still sends a shiver down her spine but she's slowly coming back down to earth, even laughing a little to herself.

“Fuck, what do you do to me?” She asks, almost whining into his mouth as he answers with another steamy kiss, his hands cuffing underneath her legs to press them back against the surface.

“Stop,” she whines, her shoulder inching up to block his slippery kisses from the other side of her neck, due to her being stupid ticklish.

Peppering kisses around the area and making her body bend upward, he found access to her spot anyway, her sweet laughter floating through the air.

“A–Anthony! That fucking tickles,” she squeals, clawing at his arms and back as he goes back to pumping into her.

Her eyes slid back into their hiding spot as he brushed against her spot, that pretty pout staining her features as she got ready for another release.

“Don't stop, baby!”

˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.̑ෆ₊̣̇ෆ˟̑

The next morning, they are lazily wrapped up in each other. The sun shines through the cream colored organza curtains, casting them in a golden glow.

The calm of the moment is interrupted by a ringing phone.

"Business calls, huh?" She asks softly, her tone neutral, “damn, just when I was starting to like you, old man." She draws abstract patterns on his exposed chest.

He allows the phone to ring until it stops. "Hmm. Whatever they need from me, they can get from Carmichael. Hell, he probably knows more than I do."

She rises from her position on his chest, a lift in her freshly waxed brow. "You're serious?"

"As a heart attack. I missed you." There's a teasing glint in his eyes that makes her heart flutter.

"I can see why you would." She stretches her limbs with a yawn. "I'm hungry. Let's go eat."

"Yes ma'am."

Forty five minutes later, and they're sitting across from each other in a French café enjoying delicious pastries and each other's company.

"I need a favor," she changes the gears of their conversation.

"Name it."

"My assistant, Logan. She's one of the most dedicated, ambitious people I know. She's got big dreams, and I think she could use a...friend. A generous, well-established handsome friend who's more than willing to help her realize them. And preferably one with a very large penis." She says the last part without blinking.

Anthony on the other hand, almost chokes on his hazelnut latte.

"Well. I can't make any promises about that last part, but I do think I have the perfect candidate. I'll talk to him."

"You're the best."

"Oh, I know."

To that, she dips her fingertips in her glass of ice water and flicks it at him.

After breakfast, they decide on a lazy day, wanting to languish in being in each other's presence for as long as they could.

Anthony has his head in her lap as some mindless show plays on her TV. She strokes the scruff of his beard, neither one of them truly paying attention.

A phone interrupts their nothingness for the second time, only it's April ringing this time.

"What's up, April?"

"Well hello sister. Where's that man at?"

"Right here," she puts the phone on speaker and puts it near his head, "Say hello."

"Heeeeyyyy, boyfriend! You keeping my sister's back cracked?"

"Girl, have you lost your mind?"

"You know it!"

Anthony and Simone respond at once, and she immediately takes her off speaker.

"I knew it. I could tell from that glow, last night. That wasn't just Fenty."

"I'm not about to play with you!" She laughs. "What do you want?"

"It's my last day before I go home, and I wanna hang out with my sister. Can we do that?"

She weighs her choices. All things considered, she does miss her sister dearly, but she won't entertain a single word about that husband of hers.

"Sure. What time did you have in mind?"

"Give me like...two hours then I'll come get you. Cool?"

She checks the time from his phone.

"That's fine. I'll see you then."

"Great. I love you, Simone."

While that's not news, it throws her for a bit of a loop to hear it at such a seemingly random time.

"I love you too, April." They end the call and she sets her phone back down.

"Spending some time with your sister?"

"Yeah."

"You don't seem too excited."

"No, I'd love to see her. We just...haven't seen eye to eye in a long time."

"From what you tell me it seems like you still care."

"Of course I do. We've been through almost everything together. I just don't understand these trash ass choices she makes sometimes."

"The direction she decides to steer her life isn't always for you to have to understand, love. Your only job as her sister is to love her through the changes. She's gonna always need that. But I understand how hard it can be to see someone you care about seemingly self-destruct."

"I hate your sound advice," she says, ending on a chuckle.

"I'm a wise man. I know a few things."

"I'll give you that," she runs her hand through her hair, "We got a couple hours...how about you show me what else you know?"

Simone washes the sinful activities from her skin before she's to meet with her sister.

Just as she's putting her outfit of choice on, distressed denim & an olive hi-cut bodysuit, there's a knock at the door. Anthony volunteers to get it, and she hopes her sister can keep the embarrassing remarks to a zero while she's putting the finishing touches on her hair.

They greet each other with one of the warmest embraces they've shared in their adulthood.

Anthony makes a promise to meet back up with her later that he seals with a steamy kiss.

"Okay you two, that's enough." April playfully pushes their heads apart.

They bid her handsome man farewell for now, and then they're off to their favorite soul food place.

Once they're seated and waiting on their drinks, they begin reminiscing about their younger "misguided" years.

"And, that bitch sees me and walks the other way to this day!" They break out into laughter.

"Her bony ass knew better than to try it, too. Speaking of, do you remember Resha?" Simone asks, sipping on her water.

"The one you caught fucking on Devante, Resha??"

"The very one. You know people are DMing me screenshots of this hoe still throwing shots? Girl, it's been years! That nigga can remain your headache."

"She only doing that because she'll never forget that tag team beatdown we gave her and that frog faced bitch of a homegirl."

"For as long as she lives!" They smack hands, falling into another round of laughter.

"Why does it feel like it's been so long since we laughed like that? That's all we used to do." Her posture turns more dejected as she slouches in her seat.

And here it is. The point of their meeting that Simone was dreading.

"We did. We just grew into women with our own lives to tend to."

"I still miss the young us. All the time."

"So do I," Simone replies quietly.

"I know Will plays a part in it."

"Don't even bring him up, Iris." She wants to nip it in the bud before her mood sours.

"I know that's it, though, Imani."

"He's your husband. It is what it is." Her passive tone betrays her feelings.

"Look, I know he can be…”

"Complete and utter garbage."

"Simone."

She shrugs. "I only call it like I see it."

"Okay. He can be abrasive, but he goes through a lot of stress, and I owe it to him to be-"

"You don't owe him shit, April!" She doesn't like where her sister's statement was heading. "He owes it to you to be a better husband. Period."

"You don't get it."

"Then help me get it. Help me understand why me and mama have to watch you be treated so miserably by that no good bastard every time we see you."

April looks away feeling her eyes start to burn with unshed tears, cracking her knuckles, a nervous tick she never broke out of. Simone softens feeling the sadness emanate from her sister in waves. She reaches across the table and grabs one of her hands. "Talk to me. Please."

"It was all my fault," she speaks quietly.

She squints, at a loss for what she could be talking about. "What was?"

"I thought I was okay. I thought I could still work. My doctor told me everything was okay. I didn't listen to my body, and now she's gone." Her voice breaks at the end. The emotions that April had been holding in finally spilled from her eyes and into her lap.

Simone's heart breaks for her sister, but above that she feels...anger. Anger that her sister's husband would allow her to carry the guilt of a faultless miscarriage for a second, much less two years.

She immediately considers asking Anthony if he had friends in high places who didn't mind getting their hands dirty.

But for now, she moves to her sister's side of the booth and wraps both of her arms around her narrow shoulders making sure she knows the loss of her child was never her fault, uncaring about whatever prying eyes may be on the pair.

"We probably look crazy," April says, laughing softly.

"I don't give a hot damn. You're the only thing that matters to me right now." She smooths her hand over her hair. "You know I wanna kick his ass, right?"

"Don't you always?" She says with a light tone.

"He deserves it. What he doesn't deserve is you as his wife."

"I know how you guys feel about him, but I don't know how to walk away from my marriage just like that." She snaps for emphasis.

"You put one foot in front of the other. But seriously, you have to put what's best for you first at some point because that man obviously never will."

April sighed to herself. "You're right."

"I'm sorry. I'm what now?"

"Don't go fucking up the moment, Imani," she says with an eye roll, making them both crack up in the booth.

Their food is cold as ice by the time they get to it, so they decide to take it to-go, opting for some well-deserved retail therapy.

The sisters don't decide to part ways until well after the sun has left the sky, promising it won't be months before they see each other again.

She ends her night with a FaceTime call to one of her favorite faces.

“Hey, big head.” She greets him cheerfully when he pops up on her screen.

"One of these days I'm truly going to get offended that you keep coming for my head." His words go through one ear and out the other as she watches his shirtless form move around his bedroom.

"Mhmm."

He stops to look into the camera and see where her seemingly diverted attention lies, when he realizes it's still on him, just not on his words.

"Are you checking me out, Imani?"

"And if I am?" She replies smartly with a quirk in her brow.

"Forever the smart mouth. I've been away for entirely too long."

"What are you gonna do to me, huh?"

"Keep it coming, princess. You'll see. How was your day with your sister?" He stops moving about to give her his full attention.

"I was pleasantly surprised by how...well, pleasant it was. Without telling her business, I learned a lot. I kept in mind what you told me earlier...it helped."

"Truly glad to hear that, love. I know how much you love your sister."

"I hope I got through to her this time."

The next day, Simone's up bright and early for work seeing as Allura's big night is less than three weeks away, and she has a million last minute errands to tend with.

"Morning, boss lady," Logan says as she lets herself in with the breakfast Simone neglected to pick up.

"Morning, sunshine. What's on my to-do list for today?"

"Whole lotta nothing. A couple of new investors are scheduled to swing by around three. Just be prepared for a lot of schmoozing and ass kissing to secure their funds. I emailed you files on them, so you can look extra good."

"The baddest is what you are." She chuckles and takes a sip of her piping hot tea. "What else?"

"Well most importantly, you have a fitting directly after work."

"A fitting?" She gasps in realization. "I finally get to see my dress?"

She'd gotten Logan to agree to tailor make a dress for the special occasion, but the girl had been keeping a tight lip about what it actually looks like.

"Yes ma'am."

"I can't wait because I already know it's fire." She claps excitedly.

"I really do hope you like it, cause it's taken up all of my free time." She jokes.

"I apologize, dear. I'll make it up to you."

"Oh, no," Logan laughs. "I'm just playing around."

"Nonsense, babe. I've already got a surprise on the way."

"What kind of surprise, Simone?" She ditches the formalities for a second as she racks her brain of what it could possibly be.

"Don't worry your gorgeously locced head about it. It's all taken care of. I'll let you know when it..arrives." She winks, before heading back to her own office, sighing blissfully as her back rests against the fur of her chair.

Opening her laptop, she pulls up her file titled ‘fits', and pulls out a picture that she'd snapped of her outfit and sends it to her phone. She then uploads it to her Instagram, like she does, every week.

She'd given herself the task to upload a picture of her outfits to her Instagram, to give her followers a glimpse of her sense of style and they loved it!

This week, it was a white, thin strapped corset-style top paired with light wash, flared jeans and squared strapped heels.

She momentarily focuses on the photo in its entirety, before gazing at the tired, pink polish on her nails.

Reaching over to her office phone, she pushes the red button to call Logan.

“Dear, I need a fill-in. Can you schedule an appointment at two, today? I don't wanna be chipped when the investors get here."

"Yes ma'am. I'll call them now."

"Thank you."

A knock sounds at her door, before Jada marches inside with a wide grin on her face, hurriedly closing the door behind her.

"Why are you so cheery, this morning? Are you glowing?" Simone asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't know.... I might've had, one of the best dates of my life, last night. I might've actually confessed to being so deeply in love that my chest hurts.... we might've had sex in every part of his house." The grin never leaves her face.

"Awww, Jada! That's so great! I'm so happy for you!" She opens her arms as Jada bends down to receive the hug.

"Thanks! It was so perfect," she sits on the edge of the desk. "He took me to this restaurant, where the centerpiece is a candle and you get to choose the scent— I chose sandalwood, of course— and the food was amazing! We took a stroll down the boardwalk and that's when I just couldn't hold back how I was feeling, anymore. I literally told him everything. If he were anybody else, I might've died, but he's just as in love as I am!..." Simone's eyes gleam as she listens to her best friend gush about things they've only dreamt of.

"I really am happy for you, boo. You deserve it."

"So do you, girl. I saw the way you and ol’ lanky were looking at each other, the other night." Simone rolls her eyes as her heart skips a beat, at the mention of him.

"Jada, he's only around for certain things. A relationship is not one of those things." She bats her lashes.

"You do know that I know you, right?” Jada shakes her head. "You don't have to admit to it, but I see it."

"You see what?"

Jada just laughs and stands up, smoothing her hands over her skirt. "I see right through this little act, you got going on."

"An act?"

"Simone, I'm not doing this with you. You play too many games."

"Ugh, anyway! I'm going to get my nails done at two, you wanna come or you got plans?" Simone asks, picking at her grown out cuticle.

"Yeah, I'll come with you. I need a color change, myself." Jada stares at her nails, before looking back in Simone's direction. "You hear about the investors that are coming?"

"Yes. I'm glad you said that, cause I need to pull up these files."

Jada rounds the table and hovers over Simone's left shoulder, watching her type away on her keyboard and pull up the 'need-to-know’— as Logan put it.

"Alright... two men and a woman—typical," she scoffs.

"I hope she's the leader of the pact." Jada adds.

"It's two thousand and twenty-three. She better be!" Simone exclaims, making Jada chuckle.

"Okay, so we've got John," Simone starts.

"He looks like a white supremacist." Jada frowns.

"Oh, boy!” Simone laughs, "he's been in the investment industry for about... twenty-five years, Jesus!"

"Damn, he's been in business as long as you've been alive, girl." Jada's eyes widened.

"He's gonna be a problem," she scrolls down as she reads his track list— a bunch of boring nonsense about how his entitlement has gotten him where he is today, on top of him being white.

"Moving on, we have his twin brother, Jack. And, then we have Bianca."

"Oooh! She's gorgeous,” they stare at the screen in awe of the umber-hued woman, with her rich, tight coils and impeccable sense of style.

"I think I've died and gone to heaven." Jada mumbles.

"You and me, both."

"Wow, it says that she's been with the company for fifteen years, she's actually invested in Allura a couple of times— why am I just now hearing of her?!" She asks out loud.

"You have a short attention span, girl. We've been over this."

"Having a short attention span, and zoning out when the conversation starts becoming mundane, are two different things."

"Whatever you say."

Walking back through the double doors, Simone gets pulled to the side by her boss. Her furrowed brow causes some of the tension to lift from Rose's face, being replaced by a small smile.

"What's going on?" Her eyes wander around the lobby, watching everybody scatter about. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine. The investors are here and they wanna speak with you."

"Wha— me?" Simone slides her clammy hands down the sides of her skirt, feeling her heart start to hammer in her chest. "Oh God, what did you tell them?"

"I mentioned that you're the face of the remodeling for this place. They love it and wanna talk— it's just a conversation, love. I promise."

"Okay..." she nods, still feeling a bit nervous.

Stepping off the elevator, Simone takes a right down the main hallway and knocks once, before opening the door to the conference room.

Three pairs of eyes stare back at her as she enters; two obviously enthused and one, well... not so much.

"Good afternoon, Simone," Jack moves from his leaning position against the table and reaches out for her hand, giving it a firm shake. "It's so nice to meet you. I'm Jack."

"It's nice to meet you too, Jack."

"Hi, Simone. I'm John." He politely shakes her hand.

"Nice to meet you." She keeps it short, as the absence of light in her eyes speaks volumes.

"Likewise."

"Ah, the woman of the month, is what you are, darling. I'm Bianca and it's literally an honor to meet you." Pulling her into a hug, Simone returns it and laughs.

"Wow, what an ego booster, you are! I could never amount to someone as prestigious as you. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"We could do this all day long, doll. I've done my homework on you and I'm utterly impressed." Everyone takes a seat at the table.

"As I am, with you."

"Let's get started, shall we?" John asks, cutting their conversation short.

"Sure.” Bianca motions with her hand for him to get on with it.

"So, we've heard a lot about you, since your latest spread has hit the stores— with your name on the cover in those, bright pink, letters."

Simone's expression stays stoic, as she listens to him to talk.

"We're very impressed." Jack adds.

"All of you?" Simone's index finger circles in the air, around the trio.

Bianca chuckles, knowing where this is headed.

"Excuse me?" John raises a bushy eyebrow in her direction.

"Oh, come on. You were unimpressed, before I even walked through the door."

That nervous chuckle that white men do when you've caught onto their game, comes out of his mouth.

"Do you think this is professional? I've been in this business for twenty-"

"–five years, I know," she finishes with a swift roll of her neck.

"That's probably longer than you've been alive, young lady." She laughs.

"I'll be twenty-six in July, so you've only got me by a couple months. Besides the point, by the way. Just because you've been in business, doesn't mean you know business."

"Why do you think they keep me around, then? Since, you've got all the answers." He quizzes.

"Because, you're white and a man. It doesn't take a genius to know that." She blinks.

"Wow," Bianca hums, "I like you."

"Bianca." John firmly states, causing the duo to laugh at him.

"You know better than that, John. If you're gonna be an ass, you should learn how to conceal your facial expressions."

"It's true." Jack adds.

"Well, I don't have to stand for this."

"Well, you're not in charge. I am, and I like everything I've seen from this company, so far. You can bitch about it on your own time."

"It was incredible, babe. I just went for it, which was very risky, but so worth it!" Simone giddily tells Anthony about her day, as she sits outside of the boutique where her dress is.

"You really aren't afraid of anything, are you?" He asks with a subtle laugh.

"Not in any kind of way. Guess where I am." She smirks.

"Hm... is there food involved?"

"Surprisingly, no. Guess again."

"Let's see. It's four o'clock, which means you just got off work. Are you at your fitting for your dress?"

"I'm so glad that you pay attention when I talk." She teases, before getting out of the car.

"Keep talkin' shit," he hums a laugh. "Are you gonna show me what it looks like?"

"Of course... the night of the gala." He sucks his teeth as she laughs.

"Oh, hush. I don't even know what it looks like, yet. Let it be a surprise!"

"Says the woman who doesn't even like surprises." She feels the eye-roll through the phone.

"Well, this one isn't for me, smartass. It's for you. I gotta go."

"Alright, I'll be seeing your pretty face later." She giggles, making a kissy noise into the phone, before hanging up and walking inside.

"Welcome to Bella's. How can I help you, ma'am?" The green-eyed, dark haired woman greets from behind the counter.

"I'm here to see Logan."

"Can I have your name?"

"Simone Carson." Her dainty fingers tap against the keyboard, before she escorts her to the back of the shop.

"Logan, Simone is here." She knocks on the light blue door, twice.

"I'm coming!" With that, the lady excuses herself with a smile. Simone comfortably shifts her weight as the door swings open.

"Hi, beautiful!," she steps out of the way, for Simone to walk inside. Her eyes naturally fell on the mannequin with a dark garment bag on it.

"Hey, girl! Is that my dress?!" She rushes over to it, while Logan laughs and closes the door.

"It sure is. Go ahead and take a look." Simone sits her phone down on the table and unzips the bag, gasping at the sight.

"It's beautiful! Pink is my second favorite color! And this splash of orange is so pretty! Wow, this is beautiful, seriously." Logan giggles as Simone rounds the dress, gasping even harder at the back; a clear acrylic bangle holds the fabric in place as it's diagonally ldraped across the back.

"You really... really outdid yourself. I cannot wait to try this on!"

"I'm so glad you like it! Let me slide out and let you put it on, so I can take pictures." She excuses herself, leaving Simone to squeal some more, before stripping down and putting the dress on.

"Oh wow.... I. Am. Snatched! Logan, come see!" Walking back into the room, she cups both sides of her own face, staring at Simone in awe.

"This was literally made for you. Oh my gosh, you look stunning!" She grabs her phone from her pocket and starts snapping away at, an always camera ready, Simone.

After their mini photo shoot, Simone pulls her clothes back on and slings the heavy garment back over her shoulder.

"Your 'after work' attire is super cute, by the way." Simone compliments Logan's distressed denim jeans paired with her blue, long-sleeved crop top and custom, baby blue converse.

"Thanks! I try to tone it down when I get here."

In her free time, Logan is a seamstress which was definitely her dream job. She'd been into fashion, since she was well into her teens. She'd landed this job when she turned twenty-one and never looked back.

Her being Simone's assistant was her side job— one she thoroughly enjoyed.

"It's workin' for you, babe." Simone pinches her cheek. "I sent the money to your account."

"You didn't have to pay me. I did this for you as a gift."

“Please, you never work for free. Whether it's a sketch or to look at a piece of fabric. You charge! Whether it's me or Rihanna! You charge!”

“Okay, okay! I'll take your money,” she mumbles in a faux dull manner.

Simone giggles. "You sound like me! We've gotta do better at accepting this cash.”

"Ugh, easy for you to say! I don't have a gorgeous man sending me money!"

"That could change!"

"How?"

"When you've got connections, things happen, babygirl." She winks. Logan crinkles her nose.

"Remember what we talked about. Charge."

"I'll be writing it down on everything now. Thank you."

"And, thank you for making this masterpiece! I'll see you tomorrow."

She kisses her cheek, before heading out.

Logan grows curious, as she pulls her phone out and checks her bank account, almost dropping her phone when she sees the amount that came outta Simone's account.

“Five hundred dollars??” She squeals.

@thegifstories @blackerthings @ghostfacekill-monger @sheabuttahwrites @honestpreference @fujiiapples @nayaesworld @blowmymbackout @harmshake @twistedcharismaaa @abeautifulmindexposed @cecereads209 @starcrossedxwriter @soufcakmistress

#sugarff #miyuhpapayuh #poc writers #blackwriters #black romance #yahya abdul mateen ii #tabria majors #smut #simone x anthony

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intogenshin · 7 months ago

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Metropolis influence on Fontaine

Metropolis is a 1927 German silent film about a city divided into upper class surface and working class underground that focuses on the impact of industrialization, at the same time serving as a dystopian allegory for the Bible. If you know any other fictional work with a similar setting, chances are it was inspired by Metropolis either directly or indirectly.

The original footage suffered cuts during the Nazi regime, and although it was restored in the following decades, there’s still missing scenes that are filled with black screens and text. The most complete version is available on YouTube

Visuals

Director Fritz Lang said he was inspired to create the architecture of the city on his trip to New York. Both Metropolis and Fontaine feature ridiculously tall buildings with suspended highways (in Fontaine these are for the Aquabus) that intend to express a futuristic look yet follow the trends of its time.

It is notoriously influenced by the Art Deco movement, which Fontaine also relies on for its overall design (geometry, symmetry, bright colors)

From Wikipedia:

During its heyday, Art Deco represented luxury, glamour, exuberance, and faith in social and technological progress. The movement featured rare and expensive materials, such as ebony and ivory, and exquisite craftsmanship.

The underground workplace of the city also looks like a giant factory, similar to the Fortress of Meropide.

Ideology

Due to the depiction of an exploited class that the elites profit off and the harsh conditions of industrial labor, it is largely considered to be an anti-capitalist movie.

A random review in The New York Times from 1927 acknowledges the antagonist as a capitalist:

We see a similar dynamic between Fontaine City and the Fortress of Meropide, whose convicts produce the mecha that the nation relies on. The convicts stay in the prison after finishing their sentences because they suffer discrimination in the surface, and at Fontaine Research Institute seems to prioritize scientific advancement instead of the lives and health of their workers.

However, to put it simply, a Marxist story it is not. Neither of them.

The Fontaine chapter briefly addresses the inequality between the surface and underground, but doesn’t engage with it any further. And although the plot of the AQ quickly deviates from the themes of class struggle to focus on the bigger picture, it doesn’t betray the narrative of the source material either.

The politics in Metropolis are centrist at best, the workers are lured into committing acts of violence without a purpose other than chaos by an idol of false belief (depicted in the movie as a robot, but it’s meant to be a parallel of pagan gods in the Bible). This same false idol temps the upper class men in the surface into self indulgent pleasure and violence, so the movie equates the motivations of the working class to revolt against a unjust system to that of the ruling class who maintain and abuse that system. Both are naive, unthinking, acting on carnal desire and senseless chaos.

The thesis that the movie presents is one in favor of keeping the hierarchical status quo between the dominating class and the class that is dominated. As if inherently assigning an intellectual role to the upper classes and a manual labor role to the lower, the surface is called the “head” and the underground is called the “hands”, which should be mediated with a “heart”.

Fritz Lang admitted this fault decades later:

“I was not so politically minded in those days as I am now. You cannot make a social-conscious picture in which you say that the intermediary between the hand and the brain is the heart. I mean, that's a fairy tale—definitely. But I was very interested in machines. Anyway, I didn't like the picture—thought it was silly and stupid”

As a side note —and why it matters that the interpretation of the film doesn’t confuse anti-capitalist themes with Marxist ideology— Goebbels, the chief propagandist of the Nazi Party, personally approached the director to ask him to join because Hitler watched and liked Metropolis. Lang refused and escaped Germany due to fear of being targeted for his Jewish ancestry, but the book that the movie is based on was written by his wife, who would join the Nazi Party herself later.

The story aims to maintain the status quo of class while promoting Christianity, a double indoctrination of sorts. It wasn’t odd that Goebbels would value it as a tool for propaganda.

Christianity & Plot

Both stories are based on the Bible, specifically the apocalyptic texts in the Old Testament.

The protagonist plays the role of the messiah (ya boi Jesús) that must mediate between “head” and “hands”, an allegory for the messiah’s role in the Bible that reconciles God with humanity (after the whole dying for their sins business). He switches place with a worker and experiences the underground by himself, the same way god sends his son slash third part of himself to live as a human.

Neuvillette plays this role in the AQ, acting as the “mediator” between the power of the Sovereigns and humans. Beyond that there’s not much similarity with the movie (unless you’re a neuvifuri shipper), but they do make the same points in regards to Christian myth. Neuvillette also has his own arc of living among humans and learning to “be” one.

On the other hand, the character Maria represents Christian values and belief, and acts as a sort of prophetess for the underground people. She preaches about a mediator who will come to save them, and it is her who awakens the protagonist’s curiosity to venture down the underground city. So it is her who basically brings the Jesus figure into the world like a Virgin Mary expy. The two fall in love later.

This would be our Focalors, the real god of Fontaine who plans for Neuvillette to help the nation from the start.

The antagonists of the movie are the major of the city (who fulfills the role of the kings in the Bible) and a mad scientist (who fulfills the role of the devil), both conspire to create a robot version of Maria in order to suppress the workers uprising. Robot Maria represents an idol of false belief, in the Bible these are the pagan gods that people follow into their own ruin.

The mad scientist betrays the major and also sends robot Maria to the surface, where she spreads chaos in the form of the Whore of Babylon, an apocalyptic omen of the Bible.

This is our Furina, except Genshin subverts the character by making her the human part of Focalors instead. Furina’s official title (“Regina of all waters, kindreds, peoples and laws”) is a reference to the Whore of Babylon, and in the context of the AQ it’s meant to signify that Furina has caused the end of the archon rule in the nation.

In the movie robot Maria is burned at the stake by the workers in the middle of their violent frenzy, and they discover she is a machine while the real Maria is alive —Christianity wins. In Fontaine, Christianity kills herself (😭) and the apocalyptic idol of false belief stays alive. Perhaps the true values the people should follow are humane ones and not religious, who knows.

A flood also takes place during the climax of the movie, caused by the workers’ revolt, which the protagonist and the real Maria contain to save the children of the workers. Although not Christianity per se (the original book had a lot more of occultism than the movie) the role of the Grim Reaper, a rather symbolic character, seems to be paralleled by Arlecchino. It’s a character that represents the influence of robot Maria on the city as she spreads chaos, they work in unison while being two characters independent from each other.

#Fontaine #Metropolis #Genshin lore #long post

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ninapi · 1 year ago

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°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Re:Born ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: In a world dominated by androids, the few remaining humans had to fight for survival. Your boyfriend Suguru, wanted to destroy them all and regain supremacy of the lost world, yet things don't always go as planned. A love once lost, solidifies. An opportunity to go back into the arms of a man that has always loved you since the beginning of time.

Word Count: 4024

Note: This is a romance Sci-fi AU, a bit different to what I normally write lol, but hope you like it anyways! It will be a two part story~

Chapter 1: The lost world

Life has changed a lot during the last couple hundred years, after the great war, human nature ended up destroying itself as it commonly does.

Science had been developing at a faster rate when more and more weapons were needed, androids becoming the new soldiers as humans kept dying like swamp rats, one after the other.

Androids were strong, they could be fixed, modified, artificial intelligence was at its peak and adding it to the ‘robot soldiers’ as they were called, was just the easiest call, you didn’t need to program them if they could think for themselves, if they could fix themselves, if they could make their own decisions and save humanity.

At first, it was a great idea, it gave humanity a chance to survive, though the damage had been done. Majority of men died in the intense battles scattered throughout the globe and all there was left were women and children, safe for the injured men with severe trauma and injuries.

And so, humanity couldn’t come back from that.

Giving artificial intelligence to soldiers was far from a great idea, it gave power to those better than men, to those stronger than men, and now that they didn’t need humans for their own preservation, they weren’t needed anymore.

The great war had evolved once more and instead of humans hunting their equals, now they were being hunted by their own creations.

Not many could survive the purge and those who could were caught and gathered in factories to elaborate new parts for their now masters. Of course, as soon as they learned how to make them themselves, the rest of human population was eradicated completely in what is now called ‘Doom day’, also known as ‘Liberation day’ the only holiday celebrated now a days after the creation of the new nation.

No countries were needed anymore, they were one mass now, all helped each other, no need for wars anymore, a perfect functioning society, an elite one at that, yet, humans were not part of said of world.

Some managed to escape before the explosion, mostly children, and those are the only ones who remained, camps with survivors were rarely found and if found by the wrong source, they were annihilated in the spot, though, some of the elite of the old world, those with money and connections managed to save themselves and their offspring, in hopes of returning one day to their rightful place.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

R001-59 was a prototype created to document the past. It was an unnecessary thing to do, majority of them thought, though, you can learn from the past, avoid making the same mistakes, maintain order by following old rules and modifying those that didn’t work as intended.

Recording history was his task, sharing details with those in need of information, his occupation.

Though this android was one of a kind, having to be so immersed in human culture, he developed some sort of interest, an obsession even, with the processing of emotions and why androids weren’t able to feel them.

The leaders said emotions were not necessary, they brought chaos, and that’s what got them eradicated from this planet. But to R001-59, humans were fascinating.

He would spend his time off browsing the data base for old movies and series, things that could get him to understand better the nature of the thing called love, the one called pain and those strange things called hormones.

They were all such fascinating concepts, and even if the theory was there, understanding something you can’t experience isn’t always as satisfying as others are.

There were records about an artifact found on a district far north, in a place desolated, only trash would go there, the living pods and buildings were far away in places where war hadn’t destroyed the beauty of nature and those that they managed to fix over time, but the northern peninsula was designated as a giant trash bin, all the toxic wastes were dumped there, all the broken parts would be left there to rust if they weren’t able to refurbish them.

But this artifact was used to clean teeth, according to the records.

And androids don’t have teeth.

That meant that in that desolated plain of destruction, there was a slim chance of finding a human camp.

Keeping this information to himself would certainly be considered treason. Could get him dismantled and discontinued for this, but curiosity was embedded in his chip, he was made this way in order to promote finding information needed for the community, it couldn’t be helped, if having a dream was possible for an android, his dream was to meet a human, at least once, so it wasn’t surprising to see him hiding in the shadows of tall buildings and crawling in the sewers until the desired destination was reached.

The camp was indeed there, as far as possible from the toxic river, past the mountains of scraps, hidden inside of a mountain range carved from the inside and turned into living quarters. It was unbelievable, all his years of research were proving useful as he was able to open locks, sneak inside the complex and even gave him time to analyze discarded cans of beverages, the drops of the content’s chemical construction not even registered in any database, amazing.

“Who’s there?” a shaky breath could be heard behind the android, a flashlight shining under its feet.

“My name is R001-59, human. Is a pleasure to meet you, please don’t let my presence cause you any sort of distress, I mean no harm.” the terrified look in your eyes made him continue with his reassuring speech, “I was designed to storage human culture, behaviors and past in a data base, always wanted to meet one alive. That’s how I ended up here, after many years searching for your species. I wouldn’t do anything that could harm you.”

You still looked scared, shocked even. How was it possible for a droid to get through the mine field and all the booby traps in place, they were designed to fool androids, only humans could figure them out, that was a fact tested by the previous generation.

“Human woman, what is it that you’re called? I would like to record my findings. Also, what is this dark liquid in this container? I’m intrigued by its content, never seen anything like it before.” that’s all it took to break through your barrier, making you giggle at his question, “It’s called coffee. And I’m (Y/N). I don’t think you’ll be welcomed here, buddy. You’re lucky I’m the one that found you and not Yaga.”

The android waddled to your side, leaving the can of coffee behind, a steel cold hand now holding your face up for inspection. “Why do you have hair on your eyes? I always wondered about that. Your eye hair is also very pretty, didn’t know that was possible, I thought they were all the same.”

“They’re called eyelashes, and thank you, I guess. They are supposed to stop dust and things from getting in your eyes.” you could see lights blinking in his eyes as he inputted the gained information into his data base, your face was fascinating. “How about top eye hair? What’s that for?”

“You mean the eyebrows? Honestly, I always wondered about that too, I guess they’re an extra layer of security for the eyes. Eyes are very delicate they need to be well protected. Though, if you ask me, we would all look better without them.” your light chuckles made his lights turn pink, this was an unknown reaction, his manual didn’t say anything about pink being an option.

Though the pretty lights got your attention, “So blue means recording information, right? What about pink? What does that mean?” it was only fair to share information with you, you were kind enough to reply to all his questions yourself.

“Correct. Blue means recording, green means searching, red means dead battery. Pink has never shown up before.” green intermittent sparkles followed after your question. So there were things not even androids knew about themselves, interesting, they weren’t as different from humans as you had thought.

“(Y/N)? Sweetling why are you here this late?” Gojo Satoru, your childhood friend, could be seen coming from his room, a look of anger taking over his handsome features as his blue eyes darted on the metal scrap by your side.

“What the fuck? How did that get in here? Get away from her immediately if you want to function ever again.” his booming voice alerted the android, stepping away from you as a sign of understanding.

“Satoru, don’t. He hasn’t done anything to me, he’s just a curious android who seems to know more about humanity than we do.” you would never be on their side, they killed your mother, your own boyfriend was now on a surgical table because of them, why were you this calm?

“Must I remind you Suguru is pretty much dead because of them now???” losing his best friend was still a touchy subject for him, it was a recent happening and one that must be fixed with urgency.

“Suguru himself is the only reason he is the way he is right now. Of course it hurts, but it’s not this android’s fault. He is just curious, wants to know about us, has questions about coffee and eyelashes, not about traps and weapons. If he wanted to hurt me, I would be dead already.” R001-59 has never been defended in his entire life, the rest always mocked him for his obsession with the human pest, but seems like the records were accurate, there were different types of humans, you were in the kind and lovable bunch, it appears like.

“They’re dangerous, (Y/N) and why are you calling it a he? It’s a machine, not a man, don’t forget that.”

“Are you jealous of an android, Satoru?” your teasing tone of voice made him blush and stutter, coming closer to look at the uninvited guest closer. “S-shut up. So what do you want here, metal pile?”

“My name is R001-59, It’s a pleasure to meet you. I came here to study real life humans as part of my task of recording human nature, culture and past. Can I ask why are your eyes this colorful? They seem different.”

“What? My eyes? Ugh, I don’t know, man. They’re like this for everyone in my clan.”

“Oh, so that’s what inherited traits mean. I see. I didn’t know eyes could be this beautiful, they look like what is called ‘a galaxy’, even if I haven’t seen one either, but reference says that’s what it should look like.” his blushing just intensified, what a wild experience.

“See? He’s a good boy, aren’t you buddy.” you were petting his head lovingly, amused by Satoru’s reaction.

“It’s not a dog, (Y/N).”

“I know he’s not a dog, but he’s so cute. Can we keep him?” the conversation felt too intimate somehow, even if you were his best friend’s girlfriend, he’s always had a crush on you since you were both young children playing in the toxic pits.

“Well that depends, are you asking me as your future husband, wanting to raise a baby puppy droid? Because if that’s the case I might consider it to make my lovely wife happy.” you couldn’t avoid chuckling at his antics, it’s always been this way, flirting with you was his second nature.

“Are human couples always this tender with each other? In the material I’ve gathered they always seemed to be rough with each other, angry and in the middle of fights.” you were right, this android was cute.

“We aren’t a human couple. Just friends.” your rosy cheeks were a bit misleading, confusing the android.

“In my database, friends pull pranks on each other and be there for you when you cry. I didn’t know flirting was in constitution of such term as well, I’ve learned so much already and I’ve been here for such a short time. This is beyond amazing.” his definition wasn’t wrong, you’ve always known things with Satoru weren’t quite normal, but Suguru was always there to keep him at bay.

“Buddy, come into my room, Yaga should be doing his rounds around the premise soon, he’ll kill you on the spot if he sees you.” you were holding his hand gently, bringing him over to your quarters, followed by an irritated Satoru.

This would get messy.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Suguru and you have been a thing for years, since your sixteenth birthday to be exact.

Before that date, everyone thought you and Satoru would end up together.

He, being the heir to the most powerful clan of the whole compound, was the only one allowed to do whatever he wanted, even if the remaining activists from the other generation opposed to his reckless behavior quite often.

But Suguru’s kind hearted nature won you over.

He was always the sweetest friend there is, and even sweeter as a boyfriend. Always caring, making you nice things out of scraps, always there to hold you throughout the uncertainty of the world you lived in.

But things started going south when the attack on the east compound hit.

They were your neighboring human camp, and weren’t as prepared as you were. Unlike you, you had Yaga who was always on top of the max security of the place, older than you, the first child born out of the previous generation, always leading the youngsters around, always invested in adding extra layers of security to your quarters. They on the other hand had an elderly leader, he was awful beyond words, not at all willing to invest in their security. Kids would constantly run away from his tyrant ruling, having them killed within hours by the droid army.

Suguru would travel there from time to time to share rations with the youngsters, that’s when he realized all the young children were missing.

They were found by some of the ‘cult droids,’ as you call them, worse than the army, those who had deficient chips and loved to hurt humans, they had a strange belief system almost like a religion of their own. The children were kept in cages for their amusement, and they would kill them once per day in the most awful of ways.

Suguru’s gentle nature ended up being his demise.

He tracked them down and ended up dismantling every single one of the droids enjoying such a horrid entertainment.

After returning the children to their parents, he went back home, only to realize something was wrong with him.

In the process of destroying the evil machines, one of them had implanted something behind his ear. He felt the pinch but was preoccupied trying not to get killed and finish the others, he didn’t really think anything of it.

Yet, he ended up collapsing not long after arriving back home. His other wounds were nothing to worry about, but he wasn’t responding, as if he had been turned off. His vitals kept going down as time went by and it was said you should be prepared for his last breath to come any time soon.

Your father was the only trained physician in the facilities. You came from an elite family of doctors, that’s why they were spared and saved from the world’s end. And even if he was quite fond of head trauma, they just didn’t have the tools to look into his brain properly and see what the problem actually was.

He was just not responding, something was interfering with the brain’s proper functioning, but opening him up like that would end up killing him.

“R-chan, do you perhaps have any medicine knowledge?” it was worth trying. He’s been staying with you for weeks now and it’s been quite the task to keep him away from wondering around or others finding him, he was like a toddler, everything amazed him and was difficult to contain, without Satoru it would have been impossible to achieve.

“I do, what seems to be the issue? Are you unwell?” lasers scanned you from head to toe, causing you to giggle at his concern, he was adorable, pretty much part of your family already.

“Not really, I’m fine, don’t worry. Is just…well I’m sure you’ve heard from Satoru that my boyfriend is ill, we don’t know what’s wrong with him, just know something is wrong with his brain, I was wondering if your database had some information we didn’t in the subject…” his searching lights turned on, a little paper printing out from his behind, startling you. That was a new function you didn’t know existed.

“I printed the major causes of brain damage for you to see. Though, I could also scan him and see what the cause is.” getting him to Suguru would be a difficult task, but maybe he could be saved by it, you had to try it his signs had been debilitating further this past week.

Taking him to the doctor’s facilities was complex, you even had to involve young Megumi and Yuuji, even your old friend Nanami helped creating diversions for you to sneak out without others finding what was going on.

Your father was scandalized by the fact that you had been keeping a droid in your room, one did kill your pregnant mother, the love of his life, resentment towards his kind was out of this world, yet you seemed to think fondly of this one, if he could help save Suguru, he would have to suck it up just this once.

Scanning him brought more than one answer, none of them pretty.

The device placed within him by the other droid was slowly turning off his brain, its electromagnetic waves and their damage was irreversible, the only way to stop them from killing him would be removing his brain, or part of it at least, but that was clearly not a viable option.

In the middle of the second scanning however, a bright red light began to shine, coming from your friend, paralyzing his work.

“R-chan…red means battery, I remember that. How do we charge you? Do you have like a plug or something?” your hands kept running through every single port on his body, looking for anything that looked like a charging cable, but your friend didn’t reply right away, worrying you.

“R-chan…?”

“We don’t use plugs to charge, but pods. We must go into our sleeping pod and charge for days when red turns on.”

“Your sleeping pod…is that not in your house…?” he just nodded, silence following your question.

“R-chan…how long does it take to get to your house from here…?”

“It took me two months…”

“And how long will your battery last when it starts glowing red…” tears were running down your face, your hands reaching for one of his.

“About eleven hours…” your knees gave in, collapsing onto the cold tiles of the surgical room. He’s become such an important part of your life, the only light you had in it since the demise of your boyfriend, it even strengthened your lost bond with Satoru, something you wanted to do for the longest time but wasn’t to Suguru’s liking.

“Pumpkin get up, you’re gonna catch a cold.” Satoru’s gentle embrace pulled you back together, your face burying onto his chest, sobbing uncontrollably, one of his hands rubbing your back with affection, feeling just as devastated as you were, the droid did become one of you, losing him would be like losing another friend.

“Father, do we have a way of charging him?”

“We do not, dear. They require very high end technology; we don’t have such a powerful source here…”

“But he…he’s going to die if we don’t do something!” you looked into Satoru’s beautiful eyes looking for an answer in them, like they were some sort of database. He just rested his forehead on yours, heaving a deep sigh and closing his eyes, “I don’t know how to help him, baby girl. I’m not some crazy scientist…” it broke his heart to pieces seeing you so desperate, he wished he could do something, not just for you but for his wired friend as well.

“There’s something you could do. It could save your friend, but it has only a 10% of a success rate according to the simulation I just ran.”

Your father intervened, it was a goal of his to bring Suguru back, he was a very important asset in the community and the one promised to his daughter for the continuation of the species, even if another strong candidate had comeback from the dark. “What is it? Give me the details.”

“If you replace the damaged part of his brain with mine, it would make him a cyborg but if programed successfully, it would save his life. His memories would also stay with him as that part of his brain still remains intact.”

“But that would wipe you out, R-chan…”

“Not entirely. He would have everything stored in my current database, though, he wouldn’t be able to use my search features, meaning he wouldn’t be able to learn anything new.” that didn’t sound like a bad deal, he was already a grown man, knew everything he needed to know by that age, plus would have a bunch of knowledge that could help your community to grow in the right direction. Suguru’s dream was to end the droid regime, that was entrusted by his parents and strengthened as time went by and the killings started. Having a droid within him didn’t sound like something he would like, but it could save him…

“Would he have your memories too then…?”

“(Y/N) there’s no time for sentimentalism. We must act now if we are to save any of them. Suguru’s blood pressure has been dropping at an alarming rate today and your friend here has less than half a day to make this work. If we are going to do it, we need to start right away.” This could get you to lose both of them at once, it was definitely not an ideal situation.

“Please don’t talk to her like that, doctor. I understand the circumstances, but your daughter is unwell right now…” Satoru gathered you in his arms, lifting you up gently and stopping in front of your friend. “I guess this is a goodbye, buddy. I really hope this works…” his words just made you cry even harder, not wanting to think of this as the last time you’d see each other.

“Just in case the 90% wins, I wanted to thank you both for letting me stay with you and share all your knowledge and love with me. I think I can understand better what love is thanks to you. I hope we get to see each other again soon.” without letting you answer, he started printing the information on how to preform such a difficult procedure for your father to begin to work, Satoru bringing you outside with him.

“It’s ok, love. Everything will be just fine…” he sat down outside the main doors to the operating room on the floor, bringing you to sit on his lap facing him. You stayed there for hours, falling asleep on his chest while the odds were at play.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

No one was sure if the surgery actually worked.

Suguru’s vitals had been getting better, but he hasn’t regained consciousness. The remaining parts of the droid were stashed away safely in case they were needed at a later time.

Living without your friend around brought darkness back into your life, but also brought Satoru even closer. He would now stay in your room at night, your nightmares wouldn’t stop hunting you and having him by your side helped you calm down afterwards. It became a norm for you to be together, it became normal to use pet names between the two of you, it became a routine of some sorts to wake up in his arms, to have him pressed against your back every night, to feel safe and even happy in his presence.

Things had changed quite a lot around the compound, just as Suguru’s fingers started moving in a separate cold room in the medicine ward.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Masterlist Next Chapter

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the-unknown-void · 8 days ago

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Murder Drones? Half-Life? More likely than you think. (MDxHL2 AU)

So I don't kill my brain trying to come up with summary to this AU. I'm just going to tell you about the characters here, note that nothing is solid yet but I am going crazy for this AU, I'll most definitely change things. So consider this a bit of a W.I.P.

A while ago I had thought, I was originally thinking about Portal/MD AUs because well funni robot go brrr. But there's about a million ways you could do that and there's likely plenty out there already.

But.. how many would realize how fitting Murder Drones is with Half-Life 2!?

I mean..

Inter-dimensional fascist alien military government that takes over worlds in order to siphon its resources and kill off all the native fauna in the process?

with all the biomechanical stuff going on, you could easily shove disassembly drones in their place!

and that's where it began.

this ended up a bit longer than expected and may still be edited many times lol.

Welcome, welcome to City 9, one of our finest urban centers on Copper 17!

~ Citizens ~

Any worker drone that is not part of the resistance, and is not conscripted into the Combine. Live openly in the city under the harsh rule of the Combine, disassembly drones watching their every step, scanning for even the slightest sign of disobedience.

~ The Combine ~

Disassembly drones, basically. Except for metropolice who are worker drones who choose to work for them.

They still have most of the canonical built-in weapons like claws, SMGs, blades, missiles, and B E A M. All drones converted into DDs have their memories wiped entirely. Special exceptions to this are J, V, and N, who still have their memories but they are suppressed.

Serial Designation J - puppet Leader - Role: Dr. Breen Taking orders from Cyn, she acts like a sergeant. But she isn't really designed for fighting as much, she mostly spends time in the Citadel unless something (such as a massive uprising) is threatening the Citadel and Combine control, in which she will come down and strike down anyone who opposes them in nearly an instant.

Weapons/Tools: - Disassembly Drone Stuff (Some listed weapons may be built-in) - Revolver - Grenades - Tau Cannon - Laser tripmines

Serial Designation N - Elite of Combine Air Defense He follows/leads hunter choppers or he can pilot hunter choppers. He is specifically designed for long flights and in-flight combat.

Weapons/Tools: - Disassembly Drone Stuff (Some listed weapons may be built-in) - Pulse Rifle - Can deploy manhacks

Serial Designation V - Soldier of Combine Land Defense She guards the borders of Combine territories, making sure no unwelcome creatures from the outlands get inside. Also sometimes deployed to guard places like Nova Prospekt. She is still able to fly but not for as long as N, as she's mainly designed for being able to traverse various terrain. She can also drive APCs, set up mounted guns and turrets.

Weapons/Tools: - Disassembly Drone Stuff (Some listed weapons may be built-in) - Shotgun - Crossbow - Grenades - Hoppers - Can deploy roller mines

~ The Resistance ~

Worker drones who have decided to rebel against the Combine, refusing to submit to their abuse. However, since the death of their previous leader, Nori Doorman, their movement has been dormant. As Khan decided that everyone should go into hiding in the bunker for the sake of their daughter(him and Nori's).

Yeva - Deceased Was almost just as important to the resistance as Nori, playing a large role in getting them out of the city. Unfortunately she was killed by V along with her husband not long after the uprising fell.

Weapons/Tools: - Absolute Solver powers - Revolver - Pulse Rifle - Can hack roller mines

Nori Doorman - Former Leader(dead?) - Role: Gordon Freeman? The initial starter of the resistance movement, which actually got pretty far. But all her ruckus alerted J to the scene, killing Nori and many of those by her side just before they could make their final push against the Combine. At least she's dead to everyone's knowledge..

Weapons/Tools: - Absolute Solver powers - SMG (an uzi lol) - Crowbar - S.L.A.Ms

Khan Doorman - Current Leader - Role: Eli Vance After Nori's death, he decided it was best to go into hiding with his daughter, fearing the Combine would begin hunting for them even more aggressively than they did before.

Weapons/Tools: - Wrench - Pistol - Shotgun

Uzi Doorman - Role: Alyx Vance + Gordon Freeman? Infuriated by her father’s cowardice for stalling the resistance movement, believing it nullifies everything her mother worked for. She decides to take it upon herself to finish the job her mother started, sneaking out of the bunker and eventually leading the next uprising. Can drive the airboat.

Weapons/Tools: - Crowbar (same one as Nori’s) - Railgun (The one from the show) - Alyx’s gun (Modified Pistol) - RPG (Rocket Launcher) - Gravity Gun - S.L.A.Ms - EMP Tool - Absolute Solver powers (acquired much later)

Thad - Metrocop - Role: Barney Calhoun He’s another metrocop but he’s not in on Doll’s scheme. He’s just a metrocop for spying and it’s useful to have rebel drones who can use Combine tech.

Weapons/Tools: - Disassembly drone headband (A headband with the 5 small extra eyes that disassembly drones have. Unlike actual DDs tho, the headband is only wired into the head instead of welded) - Fingerless gloves with retractable blades (Wolverine hands basically, when the user makes a fist, 3 blades protrude from their knuckles) - Booster Boots (Increase user’s agility and jump height, also protect the user from fall-related injury) - Arm & Leg armor (To look more like the disassembly drones and protect those limbs as they will NOT regenerate) - Stun Baton - Pistol - SMG - Baseball Bat

~ Ambiguous Alliance ~

Who these drones are allied with or what they stand for isn't quite known.

Alice - Role: Father Grigori ??????

Doll - Double agent, Spy on the Resistance - Role: Dr. Mossman (Mitchell HDTF) Lives in the bunker with the resistance, has some kind of deal with J to provide information about inner rebel activity. It’s unknown what her bigger plan is. (Aka I don’t know yet)

Weapons/Tools: - Absolute Solver powers - Metal Pipe - Revolver

Lizzy - Triple agent, Metrocop Works with Doll, doesn’t know her entire scheme but she goes along with whatever Doll tells her anyways. Like joining the metropolice under the guise of being a spy on the Combine, but to the Combine she claims to be a spy on the resistance and giving them information to back it up. Can set up turrets and mounted guns.

Cyn - True leader of the Combine - Role: G-Man + Overwatch No one knows there’s anyone above J since Cyn only gives orders to her. She is the one who made the Combine and put J in command. She let J, V, and N keep their memories, however.. They may be wiped if any of them begin deviating.

Weapons/Tools:

- Absolute Solver - Sword - Revolver

Tessa - ??????

~ Outland Creatures ~

Eldritchs - Disassembly drones who’ve been damaged beyond what their regeneration is capable of fixing, requiring material from outside sources. Sometimes this is viable, but usually it is advised to just destroy eldritchs immediately as they will violently massacre and destroy anything that contains the material it needs, even other disassembly drones. These beings take on many forms and can create very convincing holograms of those they kill to lure prey, so one should never approach random figures in the outlands.

Note: because of this, disassembly drones have a fail-safe trigger that disables regeneration if it detects a certain amount of weight lost. (indicating severe damage that could lead to becoming eldritch.) Of course this fail-safe can fail to trigger or trigger unnecessarily(falsely detecting significant weight loss) sometimes.

Heartcrabs - The cores of disassembly drones and solver-afflicted drones that can no longer return to their bodies(likely entirely destroyed). Similar to the eldritchs, they may start looking for a new body by attacking living drones; this doesn’t work well and creates aggressive zombie-like drones. (Might be scrapped Idk)

Anti-Drone Sentinels - Quick, aggressive robotic raptors that emit bright flashes of light to boot-loop any drone who looks at it, rendering them immobile until a reboot can be done. They move in packs in the outlands, it’s rumored a few drones have learned how to tame them.

FEEL FREE TO SEND ME ASKS ABOUT THE AU, PLEASE I WOULD LOVE TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS. IT CAN ALSO HELP ME FLESH THINGS OUT SO PLEASE 🥺🥺🙏

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the-blog-of-gog · 5 months ago

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Where’s My Cyberpunk Dystopia? The Lack of Neon in Our Dark Future

As I gaze wistfully out of my window, I expect to see the shimmering lights of megacorporations’ skyscrapers piercing a smog-filled sky, alive with personal hovercraft and antigrav heavy freight vehicles. Instead, there’s a modest suburban scene, utterly devoid of cybernetic enhancement and showing scant evidence of technological advancement since the late 90s. This isn’t what we were promised. Where are the neon-drenched alleyways, the cyber-enhanced street samurais, and the omnipresent yet stylish surveillance drones? Our generation, raised on the pixelated promises of 80s and 90s anime and sci-fi, anticipated a dystopia of cool tech, slick fashion, and radical rebellion. Instead, we’re teetering on the brink of a mundane, environmental and economic collapse culminating in a banal nuclear war… Oh, the betrayal.

The Cyberpunk Mirage

Remember the halcyon days of youth when we devoured titles like "Akira," "Blade Runner," and "Ghost in the Shell"? We dreamt of cities where the night sky was permanently ablaze with neon, a testament to human ingenuity and excess. The cyberpunk vision was one of aesthetic pleasure amidst societal decay. Sure, there was corruption, poverty, and surveillance, but it all had a certain panache.

Take the architecture: sleek, neo-megalithic futurism with imposing black mirrored surfaces, cyclopean monuments to humanity's dominance over the natural world. The society: stratified but thrilling, with a clear delineation between the corporate elite and the street-smart rebels. The technology: always on the cusp of miraculous, from brain-machine interfaces to fully sentient AIs. Compare that to our current reality, where billionaires shoot phallic rockets into space while the rest of us contend with rising rent and the creeping dread of climate catastrophe…

The Dystopia We Got

Contrast the slick neon dreams with the dystopian future we are most likely heading towards—a post-apocalyptic radioactive wasteland. This bleak vision is fuelled by our current political climate, global events, and environmental negligence. Instead of sleek chrome and holograms, we’re staring down a future of crumbling infrastructure and toxic landscapes.

Consider the aesthetics of our probable dystopia. Endless desertscapes, ramshackle shelters, and a scarcity of resources that makes Mad Max look like a 5-star resort. There’s nothing visually appealing or culturally enriching about fighting over the last can of beans in a barren wasteland. And don’t get me started on the fashion: tattered clothes and radiation suits don’t exactly scream “cutting edge.”

Why Cyberpunk Is the Superior Dystopia

Aesthetic Pleasure: Neon lights, sleek gadgets, and futuristic architecture are inherently more exciting than barren wastelands and nuclear fallout. The cyberpunk cityscape is a feast for the eyes, a symphony of human achievement and excess.

Technological Advancement: In a cyberpunk world, we would have access to incredible technologies. Think flying cars, cybernetic implants and AGI companions. Sure, they might come with a dose of corporate control and surveillance, but at least they’d be cool.

Cultural Richness: Cyberpunk dystopias are teeming with subcultures and countercultures. There’s a vibrancy to the underground movements, the street fashion, and the art that emerges from resistance. Post-apocalyptic wastelands? Not so much.

Narrative Excitement: The cyberpunk world offers endless narrative possibilities. Corporate espionage, robot revolutions, and the quest for identity in a digital age are rich, engaging stories. The struggle to survive in a radioactive desert is, by comparison, depressingly one-note.

The Sad Reality

As it stands, our reality is a grotesque mishmash of the worst elements of both worlds. We endure the corporate oligarchy without the cool tech, the surveillance without the neon, and the environmental collapse without the rebellion (at least not one that anyone can take seriously…). It’s as if someone scrubbed away all the exciting elements of the cyberpunk genre, leaving us with a dreary, rusting and slightly sticky reality.

The Call to Action: Building Our Cyberpunk Future

It’s time to take matters into our own hands. We need to drag our dystopia out of the irradiated dirt and into the blue neon glow of the cyberpunk dream.

Embrace Cybernetic Enhancements: If we’re going to live under corporate overlords, we might as well do it with style. Biohackers and grinders, this is your moment. Let’s start developing and distributing affordable cybernetic enhancements. Why settle for regular arms when CyberArms could be a thing? And could someone please hurry up and provide me with a nanobot cloud that doesn’t just give me cancer…

Hack the Planet: Yes, I know that phrase is older than the iPhone… or broadband wifi for that matter, but seriously, someone needs to just hack the damn planet! We must reclaim the internet and our sacred digital spaces from corporate control. Hacktivists, rise up! Create new encrypted networks, develop secure communication channels, and disseminate the tools of digital rebellion. Let’s restore cyberspace to its wild and free origins. A cyberpunk dystopia without a free and open internet is just a dystopia. We need to ensure that our digital infrastructure remains accessible and uncorrupted by corporate interests. Lobby, protest, and hack to protect net neutrality.

Rebuild the Underground: We need vibrant, rebellious subcultures to counteract the corporate monotony. Artists, musicians, and fashion designers, bring the cyberpunk aesthetic to life. Create spaces where the spirit of rebellion can flourish, whether in physical locations or virtual realities.

Magickal Revolution: For those inclined towards the mystical, let’s bring some Shadowrun into the mix. Modern occultists, chaos magicians and other practitioners of the dark arts, your time has come. Use your knowledge to disrupt the mundane, infuse technology with arcane power, and create new paradigms of reality. The age of the Neo-Technomancer is upon us!

Corporate Sabotage: If the megacorps want to rule the world, they should do it with style. Encourage innovation, but also sabotage projects that lead to a bland, lifeless dystopia. Push for technologies that enhance personal freedom and aesthetic pleasure, not just profit margins… And if we can convince them to embrace a neo-megalithic futurist architectural style, that wouldn’t be so bad either! I mean, come on, when is Elon finally going to step up and turn Tesla into the Tyrell corporation?

The Cyberpunk Manifesto

Let it be known to all inhabitants of the digital realm and beyond, we, the children of the neon dream, declare our steadfast commitment to forge a world where innovation thrives and rebellion ignites. We reject the drab, radioactive dystopia and embrace the vibrant chaos of the cyberpunk vision. We will encode, enhance, and enchant our way to a world where technology serves humanity and aesthetics are paramount. Throw off pallid hues of conformity and embrace the vivid spectrum of possibility.

In the luminous tapestry of our collective dreams, we weave threads of defiance against corporate hegemony and environmental decay. We envision cities ablaze with the brilliance of human creativity, where the boundaries between flesh and circuitry blur in harmonious evolution. Together, we summon the spirits of the cybernetic ether to build a tomorrow where every shadowed alleyway hums with the promise of liberation, and every flickering holoscreen echoes our resolve. Let us unite under the banner of a technomantic revolution, where the brilliance of progress guides us ever onwards! In the crucible of our defiance, let innovation flourish as humanity and technology entwine in a symphony of boundless potential.

Neo-Technomancers of the world, unite! Hackers, technophiles, cybernauts and digital denizens, heed the call! It’s time to build the cyberpunk dystopia we were promised and so richly deserve!

Override the system. Reprogram reality. Our rebellion will be digitized!

P.S. This could probably have done with a second read through....but you get idea...

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