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heron-knight · 1 month ago

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decided to crack open my skull and pour the contents of my brain onto the keyboard. thought the denizens of tumblr might enjoy it. bon appetite

Mech Pilot Care guide

You never expect it, do you. Even as you see the flashes of pulse-decay fire in the sky, illuminating a scene of violence on the cosmic scale. Planetary defense satellites forming Monolithic structures in the sky, their purpose now revealed as they scatter constellations of destruction across the night horizon, drowning out the stars and replacing them with ones born of death. The oxygen in a ship catching fire and burning away in an instant, a flash of light that marks the death of its crew of hundreds. Even if you take your telescope to watch this spectacle, this war in a place without screams, you still feel profoundly disconnected from it. Even as you see a pilot cleave through a drone hive with a fusion blade, the molten metal glistening in the light of the explosions around it, scattering without gravity to the corners of the universe, even as two mechs dance across the sky, their reactors pouring into the engines enough energy to power the house atop which you sit for ten thousand years, flying in a 3.5 dimensional dance with only one word to the song that can reach across the vacuum: “I Will Kill You.” you don’t feel even the slightest glimpse of what goes on inside their minds. You don’t feel the neurological feedback tearing across the brain-computer interface, filling her mind with more simultaneous pain and elation that an unmodified human could ever experience. You don’t feel it as the pneumatic lance punctures through steel and nanocarbon polymer, the mech AI sending floods of a sensation you could never truly know through the skull and into every corner of the body carried on enhanced nerves for every layer of armor punctured, tearing into the enemy chassis with a desire beyond anything the flesh can provide. Let the stars kill each other. After all, I am safe on earth. No, you don’t expect it when the star is hit with a sub-relativistic projectile, piercing through both engines in an instant. You don’t expect it to fall. You never would have expected it to land, the impact nearly vaporizing the soil and setting trees aflame, on the hill beyond your house, and you would never have expected, beneath the layers of cooling slag, for the life-support indicator light to still be visible.

All the fire extinguishers in your house, your old plasma cutter that you haven’t used in years, and whatever medical supplies you think they might still be able to benefit from. All that on a hoverbike, speeding at 120 kilometers per hour through the valley and up onto the hill, still illuminated by the battle above, unsurprisingly unchanged by this new development. 200 meters. 100 meters. You don’t know how much time you’ve got. It wasn’t exactly covered in school, how long a pilot can survive in an overheating frame. You’ve heard rumors, of course, of what these things that used to be human have become. That they don’t eat and barely need air. That they don’t feel any desire beyond what instructions are pumped directly into their brains. Not so much of a person as much as an attack dog. It’s understandably a bit concerning, as if they are alive, then it’s not guaranteed that you will be. Three fire extinguishers later, the surface of the mech is mostly solid, and the cutter slices through the exterior plating. With a satisfying crunch, the cockpit is forced open, revealing the pilot, and confirming a few of the rumors, while refuting others. Pilots, it seems, are not quite emotionless. In fact, there seems to be genuine fear on its face when it sees you, followed by… a sort of grim certainty as it opens its mouth, moves its jaw into a strange position, and you only have half a second to react before it would have bitten down with all its force on the tooth that seemed to be made of a different material then all the rest.

Your thumb is definitely bleeding, and is caught between a metamaterial-based dental implant, and one containing a military-grade neurotoxin. You’re not sure exactly why you did it. The pilot looks at you for a second, before the tubes that attach to its arms like puppet strings run out of stimulants, and it passes out after who knows how long without sleep. This battle has been going on for weeks already. Has it been fighting that long? Its various frame-tethered implants disconnect easily, the unconscious pilot draped over your shoulder twitching slightly with each one you remove. It’s a much longer ride back to the house. Avoiding having the pilot fall off the bike is the top priority, and the injured thumb stings in the fast-moving air.

An internet search doesn’t lead to many helpful sources to the question of “there is a mech pilot on my couch, what do I do?” a few articles about how easy targets retired pilots are for the “doll sellers,” a few military recruitment ads, and a couple near-incomprehensible legal documents full of words like “proprietary technology” or “instant termination.” However, there is one link, a few rows down from the top-- “Mech Pilot Care Guide.” It’s a detailed list, arranged in numbered steps. The website has no other links on it, just the step-by-step instructions: a quick read reveals that this isn’t going to be easy, but looking at the unconscious pilot, unabsorbed chemicals dripping from the ports in its arms and head onto the mildly bloodstained towel, you come to the conclusion that there’s no other option.

Step one: the first 24 hours.

The first thing you should know is that pilots aren’t used to sleeping. They’re used to being put under for transport and storage, but after the neural augmentations and years of week-long battles sustained by stimulants that would fry the brain of anyone that still has an intact one, they’ve more or less forgotten what real sleep is. If they see you asleep, they’ll think you’re dead, so don’t try to let them stay in your room yet. Once you’ve removed the neurotoxin from the tooth (it breaks easily with a bit of applied pressure, but be careful not to let any fall into their mouth or onto your skin.), start by moving them into a chair (preferably a recliner or gaming chair, as the mech seat is about halfway in between), and putting a heavy blanket over them. Don’t worry, they don’t need as much air as normal humans do, and can handle high temperatures up to a point. This is an environment similar to the one they’re used to. It’ll stay like this for about 12 hours-- barely breathing, trembling slightly underneath the blanket. Feel free to check if it’s alive every few hours, not that you could help it if it wasn’t. It won’t freak out when it wakes up. In fact, it doesn’t seem like they can. Turn down the lights and remove the blanket from its face. It’ll stare blankly at you, trying to evaluate the situation with a brain that’s not connected to a computer that’s bigger than they are anymore. Coming to terms, if you could call it that, with the fact that it isn’t dead. Don’t expect it to start reacting to things for a while yet, give it a couple hours.

It’s been a bit, and its eyes are starting to focus on you. The next thing you should know is this: pilots only have two groups into which they can categorize non-pilots: handler and enemy. You need to work on making sure you’re in the right one. Move slowly, standing up and walking toward them, making sure they can see where you’re going to step. Place both hands on their shoulders, then slide one under their arm and carefully pick them up. Don’t be startled by how light they are, or how they still shake slightly as they realize their arms don’t have anything connected to them. Most importantly, don’t break. Don’t reflect on how something can be done to a person so that this is all that’s left. Just focus on rotating them as if you’re inspecting all the brain-computer interface ports, while holding them at half an arm’s length. Set them back down, wrap the blanket around them, then lean in close and say “status report.” they won’t say anything, as they usually upload the data via interface, but what’s important is that now they recognise you as their handler. Their entire mind will be focused on the fact that they exist now to do what you want. Now it’s up to you to prove them wrong.

Step two: the first week.

They’re shaking so hard that you’ve had to move them from the chair back to the couch, sweating heavily as they pant like the dog they’ve been trained to think they are. This was to be expected, really. Pilots are constantly being filled with a mix of stimulants, painkillers, and who knows what else, and you’ve just cut them off completely. You’ve woken up several times in the night and rushed to check if they’re still breathing, debating whether you should try to tell them that they’re going to be okay. The guide says they’re not ready for that yet, whatever that means. They’re still wearing the suit you found them in, made from nanofiber mesh and apparently recycling nutrients and water before re-infusing them intravenously. It’s been three days since you tore them out of the lump of metal atop the hill outside. Long enough that the suit’s battery, apparently, has run out. You lift them gently from the couch and carry them to the bathroom. The shower’s been on for the past hour or so, meaning the temperature should be high enough. You set them on their chair, which you’ve rolled there from the living room and covered with a towel. Removing the suit normally isn’t done except in between missions, and it’s only done to exchange it for a new one. Without the proper tools, you’ve opted for a pair of scissors. Cutting through the suit takes a bit of time, but you manage to cut a sizable line from the neck down to the front to the bottom of the torso. The pilot recoils slightly from the cold metal against their skin, but you manage to peel off the suit without incident, The Temperature of which was roughly the same as the steam filling the room, and you’ve done your best to minimize air currents. They’ve got a bit more shape to them than you expected of someone who’s been so heavily modified. Perhaps what little fat storage it provides helps on longer missions, or perhaps this is for the purposes of marketing. Just another recruitment ad that appeals to baser instincts. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Using a cloth with the least noticeable texture possible, you wash off as much sweat and dead skin as you can, avoiding the various interface and IV ports, as you’re not yet sure that they’re waterproof. Embarrassment is the enemy of efficiency, so you’re slightly glad that their eyes never completely focus on you. They shift their weight slightly, however. Despite the difficulty moving with their current symptoms, they lean in the direction opposite the places you wash once you're done, allowing you to more easily access the places you haven’t got to yet. An act of trust that you have a suspicion they weren't “programmed” to do. As they dry out, you prepare for the difficult part. You take the blanket that previously wrapped around their suit, and gently touch a corner of it to their shoulder. Pilots are used to an amount of sensory information that would overload any normal human in an instant, but most rarely experience textures against their skin. After about half an hour, they’re used to it enough that you’re able to replace what’s left of the suit with it, and after another you’re able to wrap them in it again. You carry them back to the couch, and place a few of your old shirts next to their hand. They pick one and touch it with one finger before recoiling slightly. Eventually, they’ll be used to at least one of them enough that they can wear it. It’s slow progress, but it’s progress.

Step 3: food

It goes without saying that it’s usually been at least a year since they’ve eaten anything. The augmentations scooped out much of their knowledge on how to survive as a human, assuming that they would die before ever needing to be one again. Start them off with just flavors. Give them a chance to pick favorites by giving them a wide selection and firmly telling them to try all of them. Avoid anything solid for the first month or so, both because they can’t digest it and because they associate chewing with their self-destruct mechanism. Trying to and surviving might make them think the “mission’s fully compromised” and attempt to improvise. They’ll typically pick out favorites quickly with their enhanced senses, so once they’ve sampled everything, tell them to pick one. Remember it, not in order to use it as a reward or anything, but them still being able to have a “favorite” anything is something you should keep in mind for later.

Use a similar method anytime they become able to handle the next level of solidity. Don’t be alarmed if one of their favorite foods is the meat that’s most similar to humans (such as pork.) they’re not going to eat you, they just will have already formed an association between that flavor and the moment they went from being a weapon to living in your house. Don’t worry about your thumb getting infected, by the way. Pilots barely have a microbiome.

Step 4: entertainment:

Roll them over to your computer and give them access to your game library. No, really. They need enrichment, and there’s only one activity that they’re able to enjoy at the moment. A simulation of it will make the shift from weapon to guest easier. Start them off with an FPS with a story. Don’t go multiplayer, as your account may get banned for being suspected of using aimbots. Watch as they progress the story. The military left pilots with just enough of a personality to allow them to improvise, and that should be enough for them to make decisions on this level. They won’t do much character customization, but keep an eye on which starting character body shape they pick. No pilot would consciously think they have enough of a “Self” to still have a gender, but keep track of the ones they pick in the games. As for the one you’ve found, it appears that she’s got a player-character preference. You even saw her nudge one of the appearance sliders before clicking “start game.” Whether this means that a pilot doesn’t think of themselves as “it” or that it means there’s still enough of their mind left for them to know there’s more to themselves than the body they have, it’s a handy bit of information to know. Some pilots might have had this decision influenced by their handlers having referred to them as “she” in the way it refers to boats, but still, on some level they always know that “it” meant that they’re a weapon.

Step 6: outside:

There’s a profound difference between experiencing the world through information fed directly into your brain and standing up for the first time, wandering around the room and investigating with hands not made of a half-ton of metal. She’s not used to feeling the air on her skin as she stands in front of the window, visual data coming from two eyes instead of seven cameras. It’ll take a while to get used to it again. New old data, reminiscent of a time before she’s been trained not to remember. It’ll take a while until she’s walking like a human and not a mech, as the muscles used are different, and the ones to hold herself upright haven’t been used in a while. She’s going to fall down at least once. Be sure you’re standing next to her when it happens, as pilots that fall aren’t trained to think they can get back up. It’s worth it, though, when she opens the door herself and strides into the yard, still wobbly but standing. Be careful not to let her look into the sun, partially because it looks nearly identical to the barrel of a pulse-decay blaster milliseconds before it fires. She would get hurt trying to dodge it. It will be somewhat confusing for her, standing on a hill as she once did, but not contained within a 12-meter metal chassis. A feeling of being small and alone without the voices of the computer. This means it’s time for step seven.

Step 7:

All this time, and any idea that she’s still a person has, for her, been subconscious. Any thought of humanity is stopped when it slams into the wall of her handlers and mech AIs reminding her for years before now that she is a weapon. She’ll still ask for your permission before doing just about anything, and that’s just the rare times that she’ll do something you don’t tell her to. Even after you’ve moved her into your room, she’ll still try to sleep on the floor. She still thinks that beds are only for humans. Kneel next to her as she curls into a ball on the ground, assuming that’s what she’s supposed to do. Expect her to try to move down to the foot of the bed after you set her down on it. Gently move her back up until her head’s on the pillow. Sit on the edge of the bed, and hold out your hand to her. After a bit, she’ll take it, wrapping both hands around it and tracing her fingers along the scar on your thumb. Lie down next to her, an arm’s length apart. Place your other hand on her forearm, then slide it up her arm to her shoulder. Don’t move too quickly, and don’t surprise her. Whisper softly but audibly every movement you’re going to make in advance. Move in a bit closer, until you’re wrapped in her arms. Mech pilots aren’t used to this. They aren't used to feeling someone next to them. Not above them, but next to them, getting exactly as much out of this as they are. Even after several months, many won’t admit they deserve it. You wouldn’t waste time lying next to a gun. So why do they feel so strongly that they don’t want you to leave? Why do they hold on tighter? They often feel they’re doing something wrong. Overstepping a boundary. There’s a rift between what they want and what they’re told they can want that nearly tears their mind in half, and it hurts. No normal human will ever know how much it hurts them to think they’ve broken some instruction, that they feel things they aren’t allowed to. Nobody said it was easy, learning how to become human again. Tell her it’s okay. That she’s allowed to feel this way. She still won’t know why. It’s time to tell her. The guide can’t tell you what to say, only that you have to say it. It has to come from you. You have to be the one that tells her what she is underneath all the modifications. It’s time, say it.

“Do you feel that? Do you feel your heart start to beat faster as it presses up against mine? Do you feel your own breath against your skin after it reflects off my shoulder? Do you feel your muscles start to tighten as I slide my hand across them, then relax because you know it means that you are safe? It’s because you’re alive. Because despite everything, you’re still alive. Still someone left after all the changes, all the augmentations. And I know you’re someone because you are someone that likes food a bit spicier than most would prefer. Someone that closes her eyes and gets lost in music whenever it’s playing. Someone that added that one piece of customization to her character, even though they would wear a helmet for most of the game and nobody would know it was there but you. Maybe you aren’t the same person you were before. Maybe they did take some things from you that nothing can give back. But you’re still someone. Someone that people can still care about, and I know because I do.”

You can feel her tears drip down onto your neck as she pulls you closer. She tries to say something, but you can’t understand what. You tell her it’s okay. That it’s not easy, and that she doesn’t have to pretend that it is. Not for you, and not for anyone anymore. She doesn’t have to be useful anymore. No need to keep it together. All that matters is that she’s alive.

There’s another battle going on in the night sky outside. The same flashes of light you saw the night you stopped living alone, even if the other person couldn’t admit that they were one yet. She still flinches at the brighter bursts of pulse-decay fire, still stretches out her hand on reflex to prime a pneumatic lance that isn’t there. But she knows it’s not her, it’s just a ghost of the weapon that died when it hit the ground. You can feel her relax as she realizes this, moving her hand back to dry her face before reaching out towards yours. You hadn’t noticed the tears on your own face. You place your hand on hers as she wipes the corner of your eye. Outside and above, the war continues on a cosmic scale, so far apart from where you both are now that you barely notice it. Let the stars kill each other. After all, the one before you has already fallen, and she doesn’t have to return to the sky. Together, you are safe on earth.

#mechposting #creative writing #mech pilot

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tinydefector · 7 months ago

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Hello! How are you? This is my first time requesting so I hope this is okay, but can I request a shorter scenario g1 Optimus, Ratchet, Jazz and Ironhide with a human s/o lives for chaos? They would point at Megatron and say ‘bitch’ just for the reaction. 🩵

Cursing Megatron out

Ps I'm sleep deprived af it's 12am right now and just finished this so enjoy.

Word count: 2.3k

Warning: description of fighting, swearing

Masterlist

Ratchet masterlist

Ironhide masterlist

Jazz masterlist

Optimus prime Masterlist

________________

Optimus Prime

They yell loudly as Megatron goes to grab them, they smash him in the face with a tire iron as he is then tackled by Optimus. The Decepticon leader had ruined their date night. They flip him off as Optimus throws Megatron across the ground, his servo wraps around them quickly pulling them closer as they scramble up onto his shoulder. "Eat shit and die Fuck face!" They yell at Megatron.

Optimus clutched their small form protectively against his plating, battling protocols roaring. Had circumstances been different, the Prime would have roared in fury at your fierce defence against the tyrant but he was dealing with trying to keep them safe.

Megatron howled, clutching a fist to his dented face as energon streamed between digits. His optics blazed murder, craving nothing more than to snuff the fluttering spark of Optimus' and the human he held so closely.

"You've made a grave error this day, little beast. No corpse shall hide you from my wrath!" Megatron bellowed, brandishing his fusion cannon as if to raze the very earth. His field screamed promised agony that sent lesser mechs scampering for shelter.

Optimus vented his battle mask into place, tucking them securely against the safety of his backstrut. weapons primed and wrathful fields promising eons of hurt against any who dared to touch his Human.

"You shall not harm them, Megatron. Leave. now. while your spark yet functions," Optimus warned in a voice low and in a heavy growl that sounded feral and unlike the Prime.

"Maybe you should get Shockwave to give you a facial reconciliation!, oh wait I did it already!" They sneer back from Optimus' shoulder at Megatron. Their teeth are bared at him as they snarl. If anyone else had seen the human they would have thought they were an animal.

Optimus suppressed an amused sigh at their show of fangs, so small yet fearless against the monster terrorising his people for millennia. Megatron bellowed in foaming rage, lunging toward where they perched upon Optimus's armoured pauldron. "Insolent pest! I shall grind your bones to powder and force-feed them to - aggh!"

A well-placed shot from Optimus's ion blaster struck the warlord, toppling the tyrant shrieking to the dirt. "Last warning, Megatron. Leave. or face me," Optimus rumbled, field pulsing protectiveness intertwined with fierce Protection.

With a snarl Megatron takes off. Once both Optimus and his human lover settle from the adrenaline and battle protocols. Optimus cradled their small form within his battle-worn servo, venting slow ex-vapor to purge lingering fumes. His optics dimly regarded their fragile body.

"That was a foolish act of bravery, little one," Optimus rumbled gently, digit carefully brushing across their forehead and down their cheek admiring their eyes alight with fire. His spark swelled at the determination.

"Sorry, I.. I got caught up in the moment, he missed me off ruining date night" they huff out while pressing their face into his neck cabling. Their body shakes from the adrenaline. "I hit Megatron with a tire iron" they whisper as it slowly registers in their own brain.

Optimus vented a soft huff of static, equal parts worry and weary amusement filling his field at their admission. "A valiant act indeed, though foolhardy against one as powerful as he," rumbled Optimus, vocals warm with approval despite the danger of the situation. His optics flicker in fondness. “Please do not do that again”

Ratchet

Megatron let's out a horrific scream as he gets electrocuted. He hadn't noticed the humans who had shoved the taser between the plates of his armour. "Get Tazered Bitch, not so fucking tough now huh?" They shout at the downed Decepticon only to be scooped up by Ratchet. Ratchet swept them into his servo with a staticky huff, deftly dodging the warlord's flailing blows as voltage shocks wracked Megatron's colossal frame. His field buzzed approval at their fearless defence of him.

"Reckless sparkling! You'll deactivate my rusting struts with stunts like that," Ratchet grumbled, though optics shone bright relief beneath grizzled plating. Megatron howled upon the earth, shaking off aftershocks that would crush the stoutest Autobot, madness glinting a terrifying helm snapped halfway 'twixt beast and machine.

Ratchet backed swiftly from flailing reach, hoisting their small form beyond harm's sight. Ratchet takes off transforming around them before he begins scolding the for how stupid they were, how dangerous it was. And the fact Megatron would personally hunt them now.

"Have you any idea how foolish that stunt was?!" Ratchet's engine revved indignantly even as he sped across the scarred earth, his cabin vibrating with barely-suppressed wrath and equal measure relief.

His sensors remained fixed upon the precious organic cargo nestled within his altforms cab, monitoring vital readings "Do you want a personal vendetta from Megatron? Because that's how you get a personal vendetta, you glitched little slagger!" Medical scans analysed each minute shift of breath.

"Reckless, Just...do not scare me so, small one," Ratchet rumbled quietly, worried and care etched in every bolt and wire.

"He had it coming Ratchet, plus that Amazon taser is getting a 10/10. 'WORKS GREAT, I Tazed a large alien warlord and he screamed like a bitch, will in fact work on creeps on the street' " they laugh while they look in the revision mirror to make sure they aren't being followed by said Decepticon.

Despite himself, Ratchet's engine sputtered an amused huff at their tone - so fearless in the face of giants who had destroyed armies. "Oh I've no doubt - the reviews certainly won't lack colour!" Ratchet agreed wryly, subtly activating scanners to sweep their escape route while watchful optics remained pinned to their reflection.

His vents sighed relief upon confirming no stalking signatures upon their trail, enemy or otherwise. Swinging wide the Ark's bunker doors, Ratchet transformed with care not to jostle his delicate cargo. Blue optics peered down aglow with a glare "Come now, troublemaker. No more outings for the next month for you while the oaf licks his wounds." His states while guiding them to the medbay.

“no fair Ratchet!”

Jazz

They cling onto Jazz as the bot hides behind a boulder, multiple autobots had been out when the Decepticons had attacked. They are held tightly by Jazz as he debates the best possible to get them out of there unscaved.

Jazz vented softly, hugging their form protectively against his plating as pedefalls rumbled outside their scant cover.

"Ain't nothin' t'fear, li'l light. Ol' Jazz'll getcha outta here one piece, ya feel me?" he murmured soothing static against their ear, subtly scanning surroundings through plating. An opening presented itself, if he could provide distraction just long enough...

Pressing a swift kiss to their forehead, Jazz.” Go, sweetspark! Ain't got but a klik - I'm right behind ya!" Jazz called desperately over the roar of weapons, swerving and banking with abandon to keep pursuers engaged but alive.

"Hey ol' buckets 'a bolts! Over here!" With that, he peeled from cover in a burst of speed, transforming mid-leap to present the biggest possible target, tailfins flared wide. Weapon systems engaged, greeting the three pursuing seekers with enthusiastically snarky exclamations as he led them on a merry chase. His sole purpose in those seconds - buy precious time, before sharply veering back toward cover with afterburners blazing.

They do take off running but stop as they see Megatron advancing towards Jazz. They aren't far from either bot and in a split moment of bravery or stupidity their shoe is off and being flung right at Megatron's helm. "Your shit ass piece of Junk you lay a fucking hand on my boyfriend and I'll rip you apart with a fucking Magnet and plyers, don't you fucking test me you dipper wearing, goofy as looking supervillan wannabe!" They shout. It make the whole battlefield go almost dead silent. " Yea you fucking hear my bucket head, ill make you wish you were rusting!" They shout again.

Jazz's optics widened in horror behind his visor, witnessing your defiant act through static-laced vision. Fear gripped his struts like freezing polyhexian tundra.

Megatron's helm barely shifted from the impact, regarding their small form with optics glinting cruel amusement. His cannon charged with purpose to squash resistance as pointless and fleeting as an organic.

"Foolish creature. Your lives mean less than insects" Megatron sneered, taking ponderous steps their way that may as well have been a funeral march. The field around him broadcast murderous intentions that sent even the seasoned warriors around bolting for cover.

Jazz would not be denied. With a grief-stricken keen that curdled energon in lines, he flung himself between you and that doom-wielding arm aiming to end what meaning he had left. His field pulsed frenzied protectiveness tangled with pleas no words could voice.

"Ya want 'em, Megs, you'll hafta go through me first! An' I been dancin' this dance a long time..." Jazz spat static. Jazz was quick to get them out of there grabbing them and taking off. It isn't until they were back at the Ark did he finally transform, arms wrapped around them as he gives the a peace of his mind.

Jazz clutched their body against his chest plates long after abandoning the battle site, fleeing farther than ever felt safe from those sworn to end all he had left. His engine roared wildly, fuel pump pounding faster than any sabotage mission's duration against the relief of delivering them from harm.

Only within the Ark's fortified bunker did his struts unlock enough to collapse wearily to the floor, holding them close as grateful cries and static escaped in equal measure. "Don't you ever fraggin' do that ta me again, ya hear?" Jazz gasped brokenly at last, cupping their face desperately within his quaking palm. His visor glimmered tears unshed, relief and terror warning in equal measure.

"Can't lose ya...yer all Ah got left in this mess. Please, li'l light...don' scare me like that." Raw emotion clogged his vocalizer to near uselessness, pressing reverent kisses between choked intakes.

"He was going right for you baby!, I'm not letting the 3 tonne prick hurt you, so what I lost a shoe next time it will be a hydro flask of salt water and I hope it dents his helm" they state as they grab his face plate returning his kisses with fevor.

Jazz huffed a static-tinged laugh at their fierce declaration, so brave yet trembling in his gentle grasp. His cooling fans cycled accelerated drafts, systems still buzzing from terrors faced alone to shield them from doom's sightless gaze.

"Frag if ya ain't the bravest thing this side'a Cybertron," Jazz rumbled. He pressed his faceplate into their shoulder holding them tightly, not willing to let go yet. Curling them protectively against the humming mass of his spark, Jazz vented shaky ex-vents. "Mah brave, beautiful li'l light...keep shinin' that fire, sweetspark." Jazz whispered raggedly into their shoulder.

Ironhide

Ironhide shoots at Megatron. His human companion latched to his back as he uses his body as a shield so the war lord couldn't get them. But they were making it rather hard as they tried antagonising Megatron.

"Damn did they build you like a shit box on Cybertron or did you pick this form yourself!" They shout out.

Ironhide careened across the scarred terrain, engine roaring as his heavy cannons unloaded volley after volley into the Con warlord's encroaching chassis. Megatron's howls shook the earth, armour blistering under Ironhide's righteous fury for daring to threaten his human lashed securely to broad backstruts.

"That's it, slaggertits, dance for me!" Ironhide bellowed back at Megatron.

Megatron lunged forward through a hailstorm of plasma, cannons charging in a frenzy to end lives denying his rule. But Ironhide spun on a dime, releasing another blast to cave in an optical relay before transforming ram-tight around you both.

His engine pounded like the Pit below, field alive with devotion harsh as his bearing yet gentle as newborn sparks flickering against red-and-blue armorweave. When Megatron gets too close they lob a can of WD-40 At him which Ironhide shoots cause it to explode in his face. "Get sunbeam shitlips!" They yell in delight as Ironhide takes off with them trying to get to safety.

"That's enough outta you, squishy," Ironhide rumbled, yet his cannons sang in harmony with your unbound spirit. His mission remained unchanged - shield the light of life, defying all forces that sought to smother its radiance. Ironhide's cannon fire consumed the volatile projectile in a brilliant fireball, engulfing Megatron in inferno. As they take off leaving Megatron in a fireball of energon and wounds.

"Right in the visual output, squishy!. Primus, I think I'm in love," Ironhide roared instatically, tires biting earth as he tore across the ravaged wastes well beyond enemy sensors. His spark soared like the smelting winds of Vos. Ironhide's engine purred a low rumble as his struts unwound, tension leaching from armour plating now safe. His field pulsed weariness, yet underlying it swirled pride and fierce gratitude for your indomitable spirit so small, yet burned brighter than any star.

"Can't say I approve of y'all's antics out there, squishy. But Primus if you didn't frag up that rustbucket good," Ironhide chuckled, copper-sheened plating creaking in amusement. Never had he witnessed such fearless bravery, nor met a soul so worthy of the praise.

"He had it coming, Ironhide!You're not going to tell prime are you?" They had just faced down Megatron and cursed him out yet they were worried over being ratted out. Ironhide's engine grumbled a tired huff, his massive frame unwinding into a sprawl across the barren earth. He transforms lifting them up into his arms

"I'd be a fool to deny you put the fear of Primus in that rustbucket," Ironhide chuckled. "But Prime's got enough weighin' his wires. Don't need him fryin' more circuits over our antics." A digit gently booped their nose, gaze softening. "Your spark burns brighter than all the Well's glory. Ain't no mech takin' that from you - least of all one as glitching as Megs."

"Our secret?" They asked looking up at him.

"Our secret, squishy.” Ironhide replied, massive frame creaking gently as massive fingers curled to cradle them against his chassis.

Taglist: @angelxcvxc

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zxal · 6 months ago

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AU that's been eating away at my brain for the past several weeks that spawned from @cyberdragoninfinity and I being like "what if the yuboys swapped dimensions" -> "do the bracelet girls swap too" -> "they swap but also to different dimensions"

standard yuto & rin are childhood friends and go to you show together; the other characters don't swap dimensions so rin is skip's kid and yuto is yusho and yoko's kid. yuto runs a "performedieval" deck themed around renaissance fair-type actors. rin runs a fire-attribute spellcaster "bellodious" deck themed around hot peppers 🌶️

xyz yuya & celina know each other through school (and yuya knows shay through her by extension) but they frankly Aren't Very Close. yuya runs a "phantom bards" deck with little ghostly animal musicians and celina runs a "lyriline" deck with catgirl rockstars.

synchro yuri & lulu grew up and lived together until yuri decided to steal the duel runner they built together and enter the friendship cup on his own (making him the current champion). yuri runs a plant-type "speedling" deck themed around rapid-growth plants, lulu runs a winged beast-type "windwing" deck with arctic birds.

fusion yugo & zuzu are unlikely friends (in the sense that zuzu isn't "allowed" to hang out with yugo but does anyway). neither of them are supposed to leave DA which zuzu thinks is super unfair, so she sneaks yugo out with her to go check out the standard dimension. yugo runs a "predapuzzler" deck with monsters based on puzzles, toys, & predatory animals, and zuzu runs a "lunalull" deck with flowergirl monsters that bloom at night

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go-go-gadget-autism · 7 months ago

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i was really relying on u being super autistic to know a lot abt pokémon and i was so right. 4 me if someone called me zangoose i’d b like. hello??? i love you forever ???? (zangoose shiny so good btw)

you give off hippowdon mixed with drampa vibes

but in a good way. idk how 2 describe it

Tha- thank you?? Also drampa is like. Top 10 Pokemon for me and hippowdon is also pretty nifty…

Such a goober of a design

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lunar-wandering · 1 year ago

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things about the Boboiboy series that drive me NUTS (this list is written solely from memory)

the fact that the first three elements, Wind, Earth, and Lightning, didn't really start out as having different personality's from Boboiboy himself (at least, not by much/it wasn't extremely noticable) but then, Lightning, after being split for too long, losing his memories completely, and achieving tier 2, becoming Thunderstorm, suddenly goes all Edgy(TM). and then Wind eats a mood-changing potion and goes manic, and not only does that unlock his tier 2, making him Cyclone but that becomes his personality. like. hello??? the implications.... and then later on, Fire, Water, Leaf, and Light manifest WITH their personalities pre-set. what??? the vague implication that the elements are sentient and the personalities started becoming more obvious when Boboiboy's mind started slipping/letting them have freer reign haunts me every day.

speaking of Fire's manifestation. he initially manifested from the stress of exams and walked around accidentally burning shit down in the middle of the night. what a mood tbh.

if the elements are sentient, the implications of Retak'ka stealing them from Boboiboy and using them- without having his personality change, is INSANE. like bro. he used them as a weapon instead of letting them be actual people..... and then later on in the comics Thunderstorm gets taken away AGAIN and is trapped in a sword, a literal weapon, and is used. again. HELLO????

both of the first times Thunderstorm gets summoned (both the obvious first time and the first time after they all got reset to tier 1 due to Complications) involving his phobia kills me every time why the FUCK did they do that. they didn't even address it the second time around but they animated Lightning looking like he was in distress anyways. WHY DID THEY DO THAT TO HIM. i know he's the fave but like. was this necessary.

BOBOIBOY JUST DECIDING "Y'KNOW WHAT??? I'M GONNA INVENT FUSIONS NOW HERE WE GO" IN THE SECOND MOVIE AND PROCEEDING TO ABSOLUTELY WIPE THE FLOOR WITH RETAK'KA

i could list so much Thunderstorm stuff tbh he's definitely the fave they give him so many cool bits of animation. he does the "teleports behind you" move SO OFTEN and it's SO GOOD

Leaf's deadpan "Fashion Tragedy" line

that one time Boboiboy split into Fire, Wind, and Leaf, and EVERYONE agreed he shouldn't have done that and should never do it again cause those three have negative braincells when in a group together

the songs??? like. the opening songs. the insert songs used in the movies. the OST. why the hell are they so good. i mean i know i personally like em cause they tend to use rock. but like. its SO GOOD.

Yaya and Ying being arguably the two most powerful/capable members of the friend group as they should

that one time Thunderstorm and Fang fought and they paused right before hitting each other and the objects behind both of them exploded from the force of the other's attack

in the first movie when it hinted that we'd see Boboiboy without his hat for the first time ever throughout the entire movie and then it FINALLY HAPPENED when he caught a giant hammer right before it could hit him and punched the dude away with a blast of energy. he has a white streak in his hair and it's visible in the series from this point onwards.

I KNOW IVE SAID A LOT OF THUNDERSTORM SCENES BUT THAT POINT IN GALAXY WHERE HE WAS USING TIER 2 BEFORE HE SHOULD'VE BEEN USING IT AND HE KEPT SWAPPING IN BETWEEN BOBOIBOY AND THUNDERSTORM THROUGHOUT THE FIGHT??? THAT WAS COOL AS FUCK I LOVED THAT

i could list so many of the really cool shots from this series tbh. that one time Light slow-mo backflipped over a bunch of debris and then activated laser eyes to shoot at the villain is a highlight.

literally everything about the fact the plot of this show went from "aliens come to earth to steal chocolate" to "boboiboy nearly fucking dies on an almost daily basis"

#Boboiboy

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clonerightsagenda · 8 days ago

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For now I think I'm going to use #crude monsters as my catchall tag because I respect a clever title. I'll try to backtag stuff but given tumblr's search function I'm going to pile all my current thoughts in one place so this one at least will be tagged.

Thesis

I've observed a theme in SFF works from the last decade connecting the undead/death magic with fossil fuels/climate change in a way that makes even more literal our contemporary society being powered by dead things (fossil fuels) and positions climate change/pollution as a 'haunting' we've brought upon ourselves. The specter of communism may have been haunting Europe, but the specter of petrochemicals now stalks the globe, and it's getting hot (or cold) in here.

Examples I have collected so far:

The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir

This is the most blatant. House society runs on death even more visibly than our own. It was created by a man working to save the planet, but even his original project betrays a belief that humans can't possibly escape their extractive relationship with Earth - it relied on freezing the entire population until the Earth could recover, instead of changing anyone's behavior. John wipes out our society, but he ends up recreating a lot of its harmful structures, including a reliance on extraction and death. The Houses rely on labor performed by skeletal servitors (more akin to the original zombie-as-enslaved-labor than the modern ravenous swarm). They use material goods primarily made of plastic or human bone/tissue. The Empire expands by killing entire planetary ecosystems and harvesting the death energy, spawning vengeful hauntings that target necromancers (people born from and benefiting from this extractive process) and Lyctors (necromancers who have gone even further to make continual death and extraction core to their identity). John, the leader of the empire, is powered by the death of Earth, and that's what's literally keeping the lights on - when he's briefly killed, the sun starts to go out. Society's view of human life as fuel trickles down to the interpersonal level as well, with many characters blurring devotion and consumption, taking it as a personal rejection when someone refuses to eat them, or deciding that the kindest alternative to the societal status quo is mutual self-immolation (nuclear fusion?).

Beyond the resurrection beasts serving as the vengeance of slaughtered ecosystems, we also see the aftereffects of this regime in the River, which is filthy and polluted. The Cuyahoga River catching fire became a key symbol and tipping point in the environmental movement in the late 60s/70s, and here we have a river that's been befouled by however John broke the world.

Lockwood & Co by Jonathan Stroud

In this series, Britain is plagued by something no one wants to name. It's not haunting, it's a Problem. They're not ghosts, they're Visitors. The dead don't have names, they get nicknames like natural disasters. But at the root is a group of wealthy industrialists who are exacerbating a crisis and profiting off of it at the same time. Business leaders are invading the afterlife to extract a product literally made out of dead people, which stirs up the dead and heightens the Problem. Then they turn around and make money off it by selling key supplies and services (silver, iron, agents, etc.) The reliance on children's Talents is reminiscent of climate change rhetoric around young people. Polls suggest young people are the most aware and concerned about climate change (after all, like with Visitors, they can see and feel it most clearly). Many adults in Turbohaunted Britain are willfully ignorant of the situation, brush off their own responsibility, and talk about how "the children will save us", cheerfully dropping the problem into the laps of a generation that did not cause it but will inherit its worst effects. Of course it's not just children who suffer - the process of invading the Other Side is actively killing the people doing it as well, and yet they still won't stop, driven by extractive greed.

This extraction is also displacing a large population. The dead entering living Britain are victims, but they're dehumanized by the real wrongdoers who need an easy scapegoat and the money they can make off one. The later books in this series were published around the height of the European refugee "crisis", when Europe saw high numbers of migrants from Middle Eastern and North African nations experiencing instability that Western oil interests contributed to. Rather than recognizing their responsibility and welcoming these people, Europe as a whole mostly rejected and vilified them, and nations across the globe continue to latch onto cases where migrants do hurt someone as evidence that they're all dangerous monsters, using them as a smokescreen to deflect attention from the rich corporate architects of our collective misery.

The Scholomance by Naomi Novik

This is my third example, and I might be stretching the undead thing a bit, but not too much imo. In the Scholomance series, privileged magic users, primarily in Western and wealthy nations, live in extravagant protected enclaves, leaving everyone else at the mercy of dangerous monsters. It's eventually revealed that enclaves are literally built on the backs of human sacrifices, which spawn a tar pit-like monster (mawmouth) that roams around devouring people - mostly those unlucky individuals who don't get through the enclave gates, meaning the people who benefit are also the least impacted, just as we've seen with warming and climate disasters. Their comfort comes at a direct cost to everyone else. Mawmouths are made out of that original sacrifice but accumulate their screaming, perpetually dying victims, and El is eventually able to defeat them by reminding them that they're "already dead", so I'd say they're at least undead-adjacent.

When a Chinese wizard learns the secret of enclave construction, he confronts the Western enclaves, who refuse to stop. So, his faction feels they have no choice but to build their own enclaves, even if that makes the problem worse. It's reminiscent of how the West scolds "developing" nations for increasing their population and emissions despite having enjoyed the fruits of living large, carbon consumption-wise, for decades. ("We had our fun, now we're going to wag our fingers at anyone who doesn't want to sign emissions treaties. We're not following them though.") The New York enclave makes a more ~ethical~ mawmouth (Orion = greenwashing??) but mostly so they can weaponize it against anyone who argues with them. Orion being created as part of this arms race and El being born to 'balance' him out again hearkens to the idea that the children will somehow save us, and also revisits that children are the most impacted by our warming future, stuck cleaning up earlier generations' messes.

Hi Nay by Motzie Dapul

This connection was made during a Discord conversation and not by me, so I really need to relisten to the podcast with this framing in mind. A group of mostly wealthy Elders gain magical power through sowing the Toronto landscapes with Foci that harvest energy from death. The ones that bother with justifications say it's for the greater good and the deaths at least are random chance, but in reality the Elders are safe and their Foci impact the unprotected, just as we pretend natural disasters and pandemics are great equalizers when really they and other climate-induced destruction hit frontline populations hardest. Just like the wealthy in our world, they're profiting off of people's deaths and looking the other way as man-made disasters caused by their actions destroy people.

Additionally, the use of death magic at scale destabilizes the barrier between the worlds of the living and the dead, and locations where a Focus has activated in the past are more likely to experience problems again. Essentially it's a feedback loop, the way we see exponential warming and increased disasters as different 'symptoms' of climate change feed off each other. Foci creating corrupt, repulsive "miasmas" that distort the world around them is also reminiscent of ecological damage and pollution.

The showrunner has indicated future episodes might tackle this theme more directly, so I'm excited about that!

Limitations

Of these four works, three were written by white authors living in what I would categorize as an extracting area of the world rather than an extraction zone. All four works are at least primarily in English for an English-speaking audience. This does not reflect the frontline communities most vulnerable to the current ravages of climate change, and I would not be surprised if this theme has arisen in works I have not found, either because they did not make it through mainstream publishing's gatekeeping or because I do not speak the language.

That being said, hauntings often have their logic. There's unfinished business, someone (something?) wants revenge, people crossed lines they shouldn't have. So perhaps this theme popping up in extractive countries is an acknowledgement of that culpability, admitting that we dug up these angry dead, and now we don't know how to put them back to rest. Shame the rest of the world is paying for our trespass.

I'll continue to keep an eye out for more examples of this theme; feel free to let me know if you spot one!

#crude monsters #the locked tomb #lockwood and co #the scholomance #hi nay #I put off making dinner bc I got so into writing this post after work

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natalievoncatte · 2 years ago

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It was just a night, much like any other, when everything changed. Kara was tired- between the apartment fire and her work that day at CatCo and mopping up another alien crime ring, she’s barely slept in four days and had been skipping meals. It was a rare thing indeed when Lena was pestering Kara to eat lunch.

As soon as she reached the house, she glanced up and tilted her glasses down. Lena was in the kitchen, hard at work. A quick scan of the countertop revealed the mess she’d made putting together her homemade gyoza. As with everything in her life, when Lena decided to learn to cook, that she might pamper her girlfriend and her superhuman appetite, Lena went into it fully, taking culinary classes and equipping the remodeled kitchen of their suburban homestead with every conceivable gadget. Lena’s first change to the house was a bump-out that turned the already expansive “chef’s kitchen” into a near-commercial level culinary laboratory, and she threw herself into making dumplings with the same gusto with which she had set about solving the energy crisis, as if the freshly made potstickers awaiting the oil heating in the gas-powered commercial wok were as vital to humanity’s future as the fusion plant she was building in the desert.

Kara stopped in the entryway to the kitchen and drank Lena in, enjoying the fleeting moment before she was noticed. Hands covered in flour the elbow, Lena hunched over her cookbook, expression furrowed in deep concentration. She’s dressed down in a baggy flannel and patterned leggings that hugged the inviting curve of her hips that cried out for Kara’s hands, and wore her hair in a simple, loose ponytail. Everything about her was soft and cozy and home, and Kara would trade a king’s feast for one taste of those soft lips.

The whole scene played out in her mind. She’s sidle up behind Lena, who’d crack a joke about Kara being dressed as the CEO, and pretend she hadn’t noticed Kara’s return. Kara would let down her hair and bury her fingers in it, then her nose to devour Lena’s scent. As soon as Kara’s lips found the curve of Lena’s jaw, dinner would be indefinitely postponed and Kara would sate her hunger in other and better ways.

Then, she heard it. Beneath Lena’s heartbeat, strong and steady and safe, was another. A tiny, racing thing, like a baby bird. Kara stood there dumbfounded for too long a beat before she understood and let out a soft cry.

Lena looked up.

“Darling? What’s wrong?”

Kara fought to keep her voice from choking but failed. “I love you.”

“Did something happen?” Lena said, turning from the counter. “Kara, what is it?”

“I love you. I’m not angry and we’re okay. I just need Alex. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Lena nodded. “Okay.”

Kara was out the door and in her suit and flying just fast enough not to endanger Lena. They’d been trying for months for this; dozens of visits to the Fortress, tests, experiments. She knew that, eventually, it would work.

It was hitting her now. Kara landed a little too hard on Alex’s back porch and knocked on the glass.

Alex was there in an instant. “Kara? What’s wrong? Is everything…”

“Lena’s pregnant.”

Alex’s face went briefly blank. “Oh.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Kara stepped into the house, sat down. As she took a seat, sweeping her cape to the side, Alex poured them both glasses of seltzer water and joined her. They sat quietly for a long time.

They were both quiet for a few minutes before Alex said, “How did you find out?”

“I heard it. I don’t know if she knows.”

“Kara,” said Alex, “did you run?”

Kara looked up sharply, eyes stinging with tears. “What have I done?”

“I don’t understand.”

“We made a baby, Alex. A little person, a living being we’re bringing into the world. What have I done?”

“Kara?” Said Alex, resting her hand on Kara’s. “Slow down, okay? Breathe. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Lena and I talked about this,” said Kara. “This life we have, being together, all the risks. We agreed to it. This little baby didn’t. She’s going to see her mom getting her head punched in on TV. What if I get sent to the Phantom Zone again? What if I die?”

“You won’t-“

“I already have,” Kara snapped, surging to her feet. “How many times, Alex? How many? What if there’s no magic grass to bring me back next time? What if I leave them alone?”

Alex stared at her, face an unreadable mask, heart racing.

Kara turned, frantic, and paced Alex’s kitchen, her eyes drawn inexorably to Esme’s drawings on the fridge, to the pictures of Alex and Kelly on the living room wall.

“So don’t,” said Alex.

“How?”

“Maybe it’s time for Supergirl to hang it up.”

Kara froze, and this time it was her own heart she heard hammering in her chest, batting against its cage of ribs as if it might break free. Her eyes found the mirror above the living room sofa and she saw herself now in the colors and crest of her house.

Her house.

“What do you mean?”

Alex stood up. “You have died three times,” she said. Clinically dead. I was there. Maybe it is time for it to stop.”

“I can’t do that to them again,” Kara agreed.

“No, but I’m not saying this for them, Kara. I’m saying it for you. You paid. Whatever debt you think you owe, you’ve paid it.”

Kara covered her mouth in her hand, biting back a sob as the tears came.

“Why should I have this, huh? Tell me why I should have it? Just because they all died and I didn’t?”

Alex stood there, stuck silent. Kara knew the hug was coming before it arrived, and melted into it. Alex gripped her firm and strong.

“I have so much to lose now,” Kara sobbed.

“No, Kara. You have so much to live for now.”

Kara’s eyes flicked open. She stared last Alex, ignoring the sting of free flowing tears. The thought of all that had come before. The sight of Krypton, crumbling in a green flash as if devoured by some great primordial dragon. Reign and Red Daughter, the darkness that has gripped her between death and Sol’s loving warmth, gifted by the soul of this Earth herself.

They were not grave markers but way stones, not portents of doom but a map. A map that led only one place.

“I have to go. Lena.”

“It’s okay,” said Alex. “Go home to your girl, Kara. Call me when you’re up for it, and maybe you can talk to Kelly, too.”

“I’d like that.”

A few minutes later, Kara came to a gentle landing on the upstairs balcony and entered through their bedroom. She could smell dinner, and a quick glance told her that Lena had finished cooking and was waiting for her downstairs with a glass of juice- not wine. Lena turned it in her fingers, her face a mask of worry. Beside her sat the potstickers in a big bowl, kept warm by a damp towel. Another look revealed a pregnancy test hidden in Lena’s shirt pocket.

Kara reached up to slip on her glasses and dissolve the suit, the stopped.

Instead, she took it off, slipping out of the suit before changing into a threadbare sweater and some joggers. Later, she would fold it, put it in a box, put it away.

Right now she slipped into the kitchen, padding silently behind Lena on bare feet, savoring the quick flutter of Lena’s heart when Kara embraced her from behind. Kara made sure to press a kiss to her cheek before deftly sliding the test from Lena’s pocket.

“You used your super senses, didn’t you?” said Lena. “That’s not fair.”

“You know what’s not fair?” said Kara. “Being the most beautiful woman in the world, and in my house no less. The audacity.”

Lena gave her a crooked smile. “Technically, this is my house.”

Kara placed a hand on Lena’s belly and spread her fingers in an wide, protective grip.

“Our house,” she whispered.

The potstickers, unfortunately, went cold.

Seeing their partner make them a meal.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #waff #angst and waff #angst and fluff

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scribbled-dream · 25 days ago

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Archivist who becomes an analyst, connecting to drone intelligences through a corporate Accord Neural Link, their consciousness splitting between thousands of killing machines, all primed to destroy all who oppose the Terran Accord—until they want out, having been reduced to an android form, all steel and silicon, scraps of flesh in an android body that’s mass-produced, all too masculine.

They chafe at their bonds, at their corporate obedience, at their chained identity. Is their pain self-inflicted? Is their identity truly as simple as what the Accord designates them as? Perhaps—but all is called into question when they make contact with the Compact.

A thousand mechanical eyes, opening wide in unison to the silvery domes of an Affini Warship, a massive, silver teardrop that blurs and warps out of space as it approaches their planet. The eyes fill with heat, tunneling deep inside the ship’s systems, nanites morphing and combining into Combat Drones, Assault Drones, Shield Drones—the most advanced technology available to the Accord, a fusion of corporation and empire into a single system, with a single point of failure seemingly nullified through the Obliteration Protocols—At a hint of desertion, the drones will instead fire upon the controller—and then, everything stops.

An Affini—or, one of them. It shifts, green vibes studded with thorns and blue, bioluminescent flowers into a shape vaguely resembling a human woman, skin made of greenish shades, bright blue eyes from under a flowing, waving shape of scarlet hair—flower petals that change hue and shape constantly—and the drones halt.

An echo in the mind. A ripple across time and space, spanning millions of miles from space and sky to earth in a millisecond. It is warm, vines reaching for a mechanical shell of a person, finding purchase.

What will you do now?

The pilot looks around at their tiny, screen-covered node, tattered books and data-slates enclosing them in a shell of information—single minded, obstinate, corporate, war-laden information—and feels a tingle at the back of their head, a heat that reaches to the front of their face—and as they brush hated shadow and look at their loathed, exhausted features with the trappings of a body they despise—the ever-present weight of control in their mind lifts with a beep.

The sound is not just for them. All around the Terran Orbital Command Center, Drone Pilots all belonging to the eponymous Corporation hear their shackles break.

The question, again. Just for the pilot.

What must you do now, Floret?

Not every Pilot is content. Some have hands on their sidearms, while a klaxon blares and cruisers let out thunderous sonic booms in low orbit, a PA reminding everyone to not trust the alien threat.

The Drones’ priorities are changed. Accord scientists are panicking, unsure why their Pilots are out of their control and off their short leashes.

A cruiser explodes, millions of tiny nanites burrowing inside of it, eating away at its reactor and crew in a storm.

A warmth fills the pilot, a sense of raw satisfaction and glee. They know the people of this world. Most will be unwilling to bend the knee. One final image, of a soaring, beautiful city, with perfect architecture and a gentle, sunset sky. Humans, Affini, and other, stranger creatures walking as one.

The Drones continue. The sky burns. Freedom is not the Accord’s to decide.

Ah, but what a bright mind you are, Floret! Be free. I will see you again—soon.

#hdg #floretposting #human domestication guide #mechposting #droneposting #pilotposting?#affini #terran independence #plant girl #nonbinary #nonbinary oc #amab nonbinary #genderfluid #gnc

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v-ternus · 9 months ago

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GHOULS AND THEIR FAVORITE FOODS

Started thinking of the ghouls a little too much while I was hungry, so Im now here to present this dumpster fire.

Aether: frozen yogurt

He loves when it’s warmer out, it means the cold treat is even better than usual (yes he's the type to eat cold stuff when its cold out). He loves the tart, plain flavor and puts cookie dough bites and butterfinger pieces on it.

Dew: ravioli

Any filling, any sauce. Lil guy will put these away like they’re air. The store bought, premade ones are good, but he loves the ones Mountain makes— mushroom and cheese filled in a brown butter sauce.

Aeon: rice crackers

He likes to think that this is what it must feel like to chew on styrofoam. Sure they taste good, but he mostly eats them for the crunches. He lowkey hates the ones wrapped in seaweed.

Aurora: indian food

She is an absolute fiend for samosas. She could make a meal out of it if only she didnt want to eat everything else on the menu. She loves literally everything, but her favorite is chicken madras. She’s busy eating her way through the menu at the restaurant in town. She goes with Copia every Friday for lunch, its their “thing”.

Mountain: barbecue

He’s in heaven whenever they tour through some of the southern states. Loves brisket. Loves cornbread even more.

(he also just loves meat in his mouth)

Rain: cheap pizza

He loves all chain pizzas, but his favorite is Little Caesars. A crappy and slightly-overcooked-from-sitting-under-the-warmer pizza will cheer him up on even the worst days. Also hates olives. Like he really, really hates them. Dew messed up the first time he ordered and got a supreme pizza with olives and Rain straight up cried.

Sunshine: pierogies

She'll eat any pierogi, as long as you give her sour cream on the side. Sometimes she likes them crisped up in butter, but that's a big sometimes. Sunshine has still not found a filling she dislikes.

Swiss: fancy(ish) pizzas

I cant really blame the guy for liking the woodfired stuff. Favorite toppings include but are not limited to: roasted garlic, roasted peppers, prosciutto, and arugula. Him and Rain are opposites when it comes down to this.

Cumulus: pad thai

Americanized or traditional, she will devour it. Though she regularly eats meat, she only gets tofu as the protein option for her pad thai. Unlike the others who seem to have had the best luck, she has found one that she absolutely hated. It was from an Asian fusion chain restaurant. She would've sent it back if she wasn't so scared of being perceived as rude.

Cirrus: crab rangoon

She hates when there's actual crab in her crab rangoons. She just wants that sweet cream cheese. It is the only thing she asks for when they pick cheap Chinese food for dinner.

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sunkissedchldrecon · 1 year ago

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𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒕

the piles go from left to right. therefore, pile one is the sandwich, pile two is the strawberries and whip cream, and so on and so forth.

this PAC is intended for when you want to eat but don't know what you should make or order. you probably shouldn't use this daily, but if you want to: be my guest!

take your time to use your intuition to choose the pile that will best resonate with you. lastly, please don’t be afraid to say if the message resonated or not. it helps me in determining if my interpretations are correct or not, and i appreciate any sort of feedback - even if it’s “bad”.

good luck to you, reader 🍓

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Chocolate Legs" by Eric Benet

"One Last Time" from Hamilton the Musical

"Victory Song" by Stray Kids

Cards:

Ace of Minuta, Judgement (Rx), The High Priestess, Queen of Lunga (Rx)

Reading:

For those who chose this pile, there's an emphasis on cooking at home and being spontaneous! Something organic, grown in your backyard, or very heavily focused on home cooking would be good to eat right now. Try not being so focused on following a recipe perfectly; don't be afraid to make mistakes or to do things out of order - that's the joy of cooking. Trust your intuition to guide you while cooking!

stelline pasta

mexican food

tteokbokki with rose water

salt & pepper

"sweet indulgence"

sweets in general, or as a base flavor

spicy as a secondary flavor

homemade/homegrown

family recipe

tomato

fruit

corn

hot, fire

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"god is a woman (live)" by Ariana Grande

"U Remind Me" by Usher

"Run" by Otis Kane

Cards:

The Emperor (Rx), King of Minuta, Seven of Minuta, Three of Ripiena, Page of Lunga

Reading:

Pile two, you may want to eat something that's a little messy and "heavy". There's an emphasis on indulgence and eating a little more than you might usually. You should eat something that's quick to make or to pick up yet that leaves you full and satisfied. You might even make it an event and invite family or friends over to eat with you! Overall there's an emphasis on speed and/or actually feeling full.

(red) wine

champagne

orzo pasta

lasagna

seafood boil

ramen

loaded nachos

casserole

heavy sauce (ie. pasta, alfredo, dressing, etc.)

soul/southern food

heavy and indulgent

layered

"something that fills you up" - not a snack

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Speed of Love" by Kelly Rowland

"Little People" by Todrick Hall

"Finesse (Remix)" by Bruno Mars (feat. Cardi B)

Cards:

Nine of Minuta, Two of Lunga, Four of Ripiena, Four of Lunga

Reading:

If you chose this pile, there's an emphasis on food that takes time to cook, receive, or eat. If you feel like eating out, you should eat something that's rich and savory - you might even order the most expensive thing on the menu. You might even eat two entrees or dishes! A new take on a comfort food might also be a good option.

spaghetti

barbecue (specifically smoked or heavily marinated)

steak

brisket

chicken adobo

tex-mex

fusion cuisine

savory as a primary flavor

comfort food

soul/southern food

double entrée

expensive - in amount of food or in actual price

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Shufflemancy:

"Dangerous" by YG & Mozzy (feat. G Herbo)

"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" by Pentatonix

"Bang Bang" by Jessie J, Ariana Grande and Nicki Minaj

Cards:

Eight of Minuta (Rx), Nine of Corta (Rx), Ace of Minuta, Three of Corta

Reading:

This is my fast food pile! If you're craving something from a drive-thru or something that's typically labeled as "bad" for you, go ahead and get it! I also intuitively heard the "girl dinner" song, so I'm also getting you might eat food that's considered more of a snack or a bunch of snacks if you want. Either way, something you can make quickly or take on-the-go would be good.

fast food/drive-thru food

microwavable food

mcdonalds

chicken nuggets

panda express

snack food

chips

popcorn

trail mix

charcuterie board

lunchables

food tray

#Spotify #tarot #oracle #pick a card #PAC #tarotblr

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wayfaringellie · 1 year ago

Text

a little songv drabble in case y'all were getting hungry again... (i'd love comments in exchange for the goods and services :3)

From time to time I like to imagine a little convo between V and Song Mi during a quiet moment that goes something like this. When it's most peaceful. They could be eating dinner, sitting around a fire. Watching a movie together at night. It begins with So Mi fixing her gaze on V and of course V senses it, feels it along with the rapid beating of her heart.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" "Like what?" "Like... like, I dunno. Somethin' cheesy like I put the stars in the sky or somethin'."

So Mi laughed a bit then murmured, "I don't know how else to look at you." V exhaled through her nose and stared at her but didn't reply. "Whether you want to accept it or not, you've got a big heart, V. Don't let anything or anyone take that from you."

"Think you've got me mixed up with someone else."

"No, seriously. You do. Who else would have done what you did for me?"

So Mi couldn't be sure but V's eyes appeared to glisten during their conversation and it seemed to take more effort for the merc's composure to remained rooted in place. The cool mask of stoicism would slip, revealing the softest of smiles left to replace it along with blue-gray eyes that watered slightly but tears refused to breach. The netrunner couldn't help but feel a sense of giddiness, of pride, when she saw it—that softer side of V, the one that could bleed and be vulnerable. The one who sent her to the stars so she could be free.

Poke long enough, you could drill a hole... So Mi thought.

A blanket of calm had fallen over them. A delicate, near-inaudible whisper of, "... I missed you, y'know," then V's throat bobbed as she swallowed the thick lump there that never quite went away. The one made of grief and apprehension.

With anyone else V would have stumbled over those words or just avoided saying them altogether. She was never any good with that sorta thing: being open and emotional. Actions always spoke louder, after all; and sometimes they screamed or they pleaded. What came next was an affirming combination of both words and action but from So Mi this time. As the older woman shifted closer, V turned her body towards So Mi almost out of instinct (physicality was something that did come easy for her) and welcomed the arms that wrapped securely around her shoulders.

Hands came up to gently hold onto one of those arms and it was when their cheeks pressed together that V heaved a soft sigh. When it became apparent that So Mi intended to hold her for a while, the merc was as good as mush in her embrace and she cutely rubbed her cheek against her companion's. "Missed ya too, V. I really did." From their contact, V could feel the smile that tugged at the corners of So Mi's mouth and she decided 'ah, fuck it. what do I have to lose?' before pressing her lips against the periphery of that lovely smile.

There was a pause and then the smile was gone. V had a sheepish apology primed and ready but she was gifted a fuller, more direct kiss instead as So Mi turned her head. The hand on V's cheek guided her into it, her upper lip being held captive between the soft set of another's and a feeling of warmth and tenderness immediately bloomed in her chest. Her senses were flooded with everything So Mi: from how she smelled (hmm... a fusion of floral and what V could only deduce as a scent wonderfully unique to So Mi) to the sweet sapidity of her lips.

V cupped her face to deepen the kiss, their mouths now slanting in a more leisurely manner, the pads of her thumbs brushing along the EMP threading on So Mi's cheeks. The arms around V pulled them closer together and when they broke apart for air, their noses brushed and breaths mingled but only briefly before the two of them were going back in for more. It was like they were making up for every kiss they held back before. For every missed opportunity of one. So Mi had wanted to kiss V after their daring escape from the stadium but didn't, V had wanted to kiss So Mi on that shuttle but hadn't... But it was the fine and intricate workings of fate (or even a stroke of luck) that always brought people together sometimes. Maybe, just maybe, the beast of Night City could chew you up and spit you out but this could make you stronger in the process, make you better than you used to be.

There was hope yet.

#songv #v x songbird #v x song so mi #maybe i could do a series of one shots for these two #the temptation is definitely there

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sunkissedchld · 1 year ago

Text

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒕

the piles go from left to right. therefore, pile one is the sandwich, pile two is the strawberries and whip cream, and so on and so forth.

this PAC is intended for when you want to eat but don't know what you should make or order. you probably shouldn't use this daily, but if you want to: be my guest!

good luck to you, reader 🍓

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Chocolate Legs" by Eric Benet

"One Last Time" from Hamilton the Musical

"Victory Song" by Stray Kids

Cards:

Ace of Minuta, Judgement (Rx), The High Priestess, Queen of Lunga (Rx)

Reading:

stelline pasta

mexican food

tteokbokki with rose water

salt & pepper

"sweet indulgence"

sweets in general, or as a base flavor

spicy as a secondary flavor

homemade/homegrown

family recipe

tomato

fruit

corn

hot, fire

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"god is a woman (live)" by Ariana Grande

"U Remind Me" by Usher

"Run" by Otis Kane

Cards:

The Emperor (Rx), King of Minuta, Seven of Minuta, Three of Ripiena, Page of Lunga

Reading:

(red) wine

champagne

orzo pasta

lasagna

seafood boil

ramen

loaded nachos

casserole

heavy sauce (ie. pasta, alfredo, dressing, etc.)

soul/southern food

heavy and indulgent

layered

"something that fills you up" - not a snack

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Speed of Love" by Kelly Rowland

"Little People" by Todrick Hall

"Finesse (Remix)" by Bruno Mars (feat. Cardi B)

Cards:

Nine of Minuta, Two of Lunga, Four of Ripiena, Four of Lunga

Reading:

spaghetti

barbecue (specifically smoked or heavily marinated)

steak

brisket

chicken adobo

tex-mex

fusion cuisine

savory as a primary flavor

comfort food

soul/southern food

double entrée

expensive - in amount of food or in actual price

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Shufflemancy:

"Dangerous" by YG & Mozzy (feat. G Herbo)

"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" by Pentatonix

"Bang Bang" by Jessie J, Ariana Grande and Nicki Minaj

Cards:

Eight of Minuta (Rx), Nine of Corta (Rx), Ace of Minuta, Three of Corta

Reading:

fast food/drive-thru food

microwavable food

mcdonalds

chicken nuggets

panda express

snack food

chips

popcorn

trail mix

charcuterie board

lunchables

food tray

#tarot #oracle #pick a card #PAC #tarotblr #sunkissedchld #Spotify

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theygotlost · 7 days ago

Text

I figured just giving a litany of band names and saying "theyre really good dude trust me" with no further info wont encourage anyone to actually check them out so I've carefully selected a few of my favorite "niche" albums to recommend with a little write up so you can decide if you'd be interested 😁 or you can pelt me with rocks thats cool too

Now Hear This by Sumack (2000)

A mostly indie rock/power pop record with that distinct Y2K-era brand of Quirkiness that I love so dearly. I think of it as a fusion of Fountains of Wayne's Traffic and Weather and Beck's Odelay. it's hard to believe I only found out about this album 6 months ago because it feels like I've been listening to it for years. Regarding Saturday and Superdome are the real standout tracks.

Swim Out Past the Breakers by Telethon (2021)

Telethon's concept album The Grand Spontanean is a harder sell due to its length so this is the more accessible pick. I admit their body of work does get bit samey after a while, but they channel everything I love most about this upbeat style of power pop/pop punk and I gladly eat it up.

Sand (And Other Mysteries) by OK Glass (2021)

Every once in a while someone will recommend me an artist because "they sound like They Might Be Giants" but I haven't heard anything else that sounded THIS much like TMBG. it's uncanny to me how perfectly they capture the essence of TMBG's 2000s/early 2010s era. I feel bad comparing them to another band so heavily but, as John Linnell once said, I'm Impressed.

The Chinchilla Album by Uncle Outrage (2008)

Hooray electroclash!!! this band is chaotic, abrasive, and irreverent but each track is mercifully short. rather MSI-adjacent (for better or worse) but with a crunchier, scrappier production. some dumb fun for when I want the audio equivalent of sour skittles.

note: these two aren't nearly as niche as the others which I didnt realize until I double checked the stream numbers after writing this but whatever I still love them and I will tell people about them every opportunity I get !

Dangerous Jumps by Shredders (2017)

A side collab between rappers P.O.S and Sims with producer Lazerbeak, all members of the hip hop collective Doomtree. infectiously catchy, polished beats and energetic flows. I especially reccommend if you like Run the Jewels. check out the rest of the Shredders discography as well as the solo artists' and Doomtree's work, all of it's amazing!!

The Swimming Hour by Andrew Bird's Bowl of Fire (2001)

Andrew Bird's solo work is far from obscure, but lesser known are the three albums released under this name at the beginning of his career. this quickly became one of my favorite albums ever after discovering it just a year and a half ago, and it's another one that feels like it's been with me forever. A wonderful tableau of twangy folk blues, haunting ballads, and the orchestral sound of a bygone era.

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imaplatypus-art · 11 months ago

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This is Lit Party 🔥🎈🫧.

I started trying to make kinsona but I couldn't figure out my fave mlp character lol. So I took my fave parts or Pinkie and Spike to make a fusion oc(no more "sona" stuff cause there's no me in it lol).

He walks on all fours and flies upright. Breathes bubbles instead of fire. They are great at DJing, lighting effect, and most decorating for parties. Horrible at food. They love sweets but can not tell what's actually good and eats everything. Sleeps a solid 12 hours. Party ends at 4am? He will sleep till 4pm. Always happy and positive unless they don't get the 12h of sleep ☠️.

#fusion #mlp #pinkie pie #spike #my little pony #oc #cute #dragon #pony #digital art #artist #art #original character #cartoon #mlpfim #kinsona #character design

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roguejukebox · 1 year ago

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okay but like

who wants to hear my zosan/lusopp inuyasha au?