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bonny-kookoo · 2 months ago

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Jungkook

Re:Birth | Re:Start [Part 1]

He's just a vulture, searching for scraps to survive, when he finds more than he could've ever thought of finding. This could turn his whole life around- but oh no...

Tags/Warnings: Post apocalypse AU, Alien AU, Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Adult Themes, mild Violence and Blood, mentions of death, sci-fi, romance

Wordcount: 5.7k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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“Everything that’s in it is yours.��

That was what he was told when he bought the pile of scrap, all of it junk from ages ago still valuable to someone like him. He trades this stuff after all- a member of the ‘Vultures’, a group of people who take on trash to pick out the most vaulable parts of it all. This time, Jungkook got his hands on something special- an old abandoned rescue ship back from when earth first fell to nuclear weapons. That was hundreds of years ago by now, planet completely abandoned and only inhabited by intergalactic clean-up troops trying their best to save whats left of it all.

Opening the once automated sliding doors in the back is tough, but Jungkook makes do with some of the equipment and knowledge from years of experience, eventually finding his way inside. It’s small for someone like him, but probably spacious enough for a good amount of humans, which this was made for after all. The lights don’t work, and he doesn’t really expect them to- but what does surprise him is the still glowing red emergency lights further in the distance, down a small hallway kind of way.

The moment he reaches a door that’s sealed heavily, he’s a bit stunned. It’s known that humans have made a certain type of energy preserving system to keep ships like these going for hundreds of years, but many if not most of them all either crashed, or opened early on other planets during their great escape from earth centuries ago. And with the rather short lifespan of humans, there’s as of now no record of a surviving full blood human on any of the planets of this solar system.

Aex 3 is Jungkook’s home planet- he never had to adjust to anything here. He was born here, and most likely, he’ll spend his dying years here too, whenever that happens.

As he tries to find a way into the large bunker-like room, he has to think of what he might find. Most likely corpses he will have to report to the government so they can be disposed of in a proper manner considering that research on humans is still going on, and its also not like he hasn’t seen a dead body before. He’s well aquainted with rotting flesh and decay, after all, that’s what he’s living off of in a way. But he can’t say that he likes it- not at all. He’d love to avoid the sight and smell, if possible.

When the doorlock hisses at the strength he uses to pry it open with a metal tool he keeps around for cases like this, he know he’s close to finally opening it. But what he’s met with once he’s finally in, squeezing through a rather tight opening since the door has rusted so badly to the floor that it just can’t open any further, leaves him stunned yet again.

It’s cold in here, and most of all dark, if not for a few pity lights still glowing, although some are flickering on their last breaths. He instantly puts on a facemask just in case there's anything dangerous in the air- just as a safety measure. Many of the to him familiar cryo-chambers are fogged, empty, leaking or partially opened- and the smell is familiar too, flesh of the poor souls who never made it out alive still faintly in the air. The humans once inside the pods died long ago, long enough to only leave mostly bone and clothing behind, but what Jungkook’s glowing eyes keep their attention to, is a single cryo-pod, small digital panel still active, though it’s covered in dust.

He’s walking closer, because if that think is still working, he might have a chance at recovering those energy cells humans used back in the day still intact. That would fetch him a fortune, for sure- there's rich collectors of these things on his planet, and on others close by.

Though, his hand stutters the moment he removes dust- because the information on the panel cannot possibly be correct.

It displays a name first, and then a year and a date. He assumes this must be your date of birth- which is so long ago he’s sure his own lineage wasn’t even created yet. He’s born a species of alien-human connection, after all; a species created from very early attempts at specially modifying human DNA to make them more capable of intergalactic travel. It was considered failed at first, but after generations, Jungkook’s species has become stronger, healthier, taller and most of all- exactly what they aimed for.

There is no planet he couldn’t survive on. His body is capable of adapting to the most unfriendly environments.

It simply took time- and humans are said to have been terribly impatient.

He slides his finger over the panel, sucessfully swiping to another set of information, most of it telling him that the system is still active, still running. But there’s also other info that causes his warm-blooded body to cool down signitatively.

‘Starting SYSTEM_STOP:HIBERNATION-EXIT'

“Wait, no no no no-” He panics, tapping away at the screen until he manages to somehow not have the whole thing unfreeze on him, leaving him breathless for a good moment or two. With an unsure hand, he wipes at the glass front, to uncover a soft, red light inside, and most of all-

A body. And it’s most certainly not dead-

It’s a full-blood human.

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It’s been two days.

Two days since he found you in there, still kept in your little pod, still completely unaware of what’s going on around you.

Do you dream? According to a friend of his who researches humans, you could be, but apparently the chances of that are very low due to your brain being kept at a stage of being not active. Jungkook faces a very bad situation here, because technically, he should absolutely report this to his local research office- but he’s also sitting on an amount of money that could change his life forever.

No more scrap metal. No more sleeping in his small apartment that’s falling apart. No more fighting on the streets over pitiful amounts of change.

He sighs as he sits down close to your pod, opening a bag of snacks for himself as he looks over at the clear top. Your eyes are closed, and you seem to be in a very good shape. If he was to calculate correctly, you were about his age when you left earth and got put into this thing- and yet, you look to be very small compared to modern day human-descendants and most species of humanoid beings. He himself is a little above average, sure- but that’s besides the point.

If you woke up now, you’d probably be traumatized.

Namjoon, his friend who studies humans, had told him once that humans can die from emotional trauma alone. Their own immune system can just one day riot against its own host and kill it from the insides. And DNA can mutate from nothing all of a sudden and create tumors that burden the body so much it cannot continue normal function.

Humans are so frail. Should he just.. Do you a favor?

Your family, your friends, everything you knew is gone after all. You’re alone, a sole survivor, and once the institute gets a whiff of your existence, you’ll probably be kept like a laboratory animal in a sterile environment for testing and research. It’s fucked up- but Jungkook isn’t a murderer.

The next day, when he’s back again, he watches you once more- taking you in for a moment, mesmerized by the simple fact that you are existing. The odds of this are so incredibly small that it fascinates him to no ends. He’s asked Namjoon about some stuff last night over drinks, and apparently, most humans who exited the hibernation protocol all lack any memories. They have basic knowledge of functions, they can speak and they know how to balance and have basic reflexes- but they all have to re-learn more complicated tasks like tying shoes, or even how to calculate and tell time. So maybe, if you were to wake up, the trauma wouldn’t be so bad?

Jungkook is conflicted. The price you’d fetch for him would be astronomical. He’d be set for life, and some. It’s just a call. Or even just a text to namjoon.

He’s killed a guy before. Shot him right in the chest for having attempted to sell his own kid on the streets, and Jungkook felt not a single drop of remorse. And yet, he can’t do this. He can’t just be the same as everyone else.

You don’t deserve this.

But do you deserve to live like this too?

You’ll never have a normal life, not at all. You’ll either have to be on the run forever, or set yourself into the laboratories- both options aren’t ideal. Jungkook scratches his head for a moment, before he sighs, and slides one of his hands over his face in agony. This issue isn’t letting him sleep for a second. What’s he supposed to do?

Can he trust namjoon enough to file him in on this?

Sudden light makes him snap his face towards where you’re still in hibernation however as the panel seems to malfunction for a good second or two, causing him distress. The light inside your pod are now off as well, putting you in complete darkness- and he doesn’t know what posesses him as he taps and swipes once more, frantically trying to find a single setting to activate. And then-

‘Starting SYSTEM_STOP:HIBERNATION-EXIT'

This time, he lets it happen, steps a bit aside just in case, even though he doesn’t know what might happen now. Maybe you’re dying in there, or maybe this is simply the course of nature in a way? He doesn’t know, as the pod hisses and clicks, something sounding as if it snaps apart or breaks, worrying him. After a good little while of this, there’s silence, lock on the clear top clicking, but never opening.

Should he take a look? It won’t hurt, right?

The small panel is now dark, and as the inside of the pod foggs up, Jungkook realizes that it might just be stuck- hands of his forcing the acrylic glass upwards until it finally opens with a painful cracking sound of the hinges protesting against his aggression.

It’s silent, again.

He can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, if anything he hears even less noise than usual with the ventilation of the system and the flickering lights finally having given up by now. As he looks inside, he notices just how.. Clean everything is still where you’re laying, looking like you are simply asleep. But what concerns him is the fact that, while one touch offers him the knowledge of your body temperature rising and heart beating again, you’re yet to gain consciousness.

Jungkook knows next to nothing about human health. Why would he?

So, minutes later, he’s guarding the tight squeeze at the entrance to the room you’re in, Namjoon looking at him with suspicion and crossed arms. “You have to swear first.” Jungkook almost growls threateningly, holding out his hand.

“I swear I’ll report nothing.” His friend replies, before he hooks his ring finger around Jungkook’s, and pulls till there is a quiet crack- a way of proving that he means his ‘promise’.

“Okay.” Jungkook sighs deeply, panic still present in his bones as he lets his friend into the chamber.

“Wow. This is all incredibly preserved..” Namjoon says, already distracted by the remains of a human with mummified flesh still present, when Jungkook makes an almost growling sound to get his friend’s attention. “Right. What do you have there?” He asks, walking closer- before his eyes widen, and his steps become longer, quicker, like he can’t get closer fast enough. “That is..! Is she alive?!” He gasps, frantically looking around before he steps around the pod for a better angle to look at you.

“Yes? No?” Jungkook struggles. “I don’t know. The whole thing.. Made weird noises and I think the system gave up, so I made it exit the hibernation stuff-” Jungkook explains, while Namjoon puts his glasses on.

“She was still in hibernation when you found her?” He asks, and Jungkook nods. “That is.. So she just exited.. I- Jungkook, I would’ve brought more equipment if I had known-” He mumbles to himself as he seems to gently turn you a little in the cushioned bed you’re in, specifically designed to move and tilt to not cause any pressure on the body over time. “She’s a bit cold I believe.. And considering that no one has ever survived in these pods for so long, there might be damage to either internal organs or her brain..” He says, before he steps back. “Either way, she can’t stay here.”

“Oh wow I would’ve never guessed.” Jungkook sarcastically responds, rolling his eyes before he looks around. “How do we get her out of here without anyone noticing?” He asks, as he picks up a blanket. “Can we just.. Wrap her up and I don’t know.. Maybe say she’s a friend from Vinos? They’re pretty short people too..” He tries to come up, and Namjoon seems unconfident.

“I’m not sure what the dust might do to her skin, since she has been kept in isolation for so long, and she might not react well to the environment here..” He thinks, when Jungkook looks at him urgently. “..but you’re right. Yes, lets.. But be careful.”

“I’m always careful-” Jungkook complains almost childishly, though he hesitates a bit at approaching you with the blanket, a little worried now.

“Let me do it-” Namjoon tries, but Jungkook shakes his head, and carefully moves you into a sitting position, where your body leans heavily against his own, a form of physical contact he’s not quite used to, especially from the opposite sex. “Care-”

“I am careful.” He huffs, as he makes sure to wrap the blanket around you as best as he can, before he scoops you up to carry you. “Alright, lets get out of here then.”

Namjoon seems a bit hesitant at first, torn between staying and leaving-

But ultimately, he chooses the last option, and leaves behind Jungkook.

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“Alright I made sure it’s not connected to any of the servers anymore, so now I just have to-” Namjoon begins, as Jungkook jumps up to your defense at the sight of the needle. “-Jungkook, I have to take at least some blood to make some research as to her current state.” He reassures his friend, who only reluctantly sits down again. Somehow, with you being unable to really do anything, let alone consent, Jungkook feels incredibly protective.

He knows he wouldn’t like someone poking around on and inside him either while he was unconscious.

But Namjoon is right- there's no real other way to check up on you other than this- so he lets his friend continue, tests soon bringing in results as you’re hours later asleep on a mattress Jungkook usually sleeps on in his home. Namjoon had brought his equipment along with him, fearing that his own home that’s paid for by the research institute might be too dangerous for you to reside in.

While Namjoon is busy looking at the results in Jungkook’s little open kitchen a bit further away, Jungkook himself is busy thinking about what life will look like for you, if you survive. Somehow, you remind him of himself when he was born- tellings of his mother reminiscing about how he had been born underneath the open skies, with no place to call home, and no guarantee of survival. He ultimately did simply because she took him in as her own- but if it was any different, he wouldn’t exist today.

How will your life play out now?

In a way, he believes this might be the universe giving him a chance to pay back that second chance at life he’d been given so many years ago. Maybe now, he can be that person to pick you up and help you gain your footing in the world. He might not be the best person considering his job and own struggles- but he surely wants to try.

Because all other options just don’t sound right.

“It seems like she has an infection currently.. Her white blood cells are elevated.” Namjoon says as he walks closer with a digital tablet containing all the information from the tests he made. “Her kidneys don’t seem to work properly.”

“Does that mean she will die?” Jungkook worries, and Namjoon sighs.

“No, and if she does it won’t be from a mere kidney infection, at least not in the stage she’s in.” He explains. “Her temperature is a bit high and when she wakes up she will definitely feel uncomfortable, but nothing that can’t be treated with standard antibiotics.” He says.

“Antibiotics?” Jungkook cringes. “That’s.. Ancient medicine.” He says, and Namjoon nods.

“She’s technically ancient too, Jungkook.”

Right.

“So, when will she wake up?” Jungkook wonders, as Namjoon measures your heartrate with a small electronic device close by to keep him constantly updated.

“Probably in the next few hours. Her body is slowly adjusting to the change in her environment, that’ll take some time.” He says, and Jungkook is a bit reassured by the clear calm attitude his friend has while making sure to keep an eye on your vitals.

“Namjoon?” Jungkook asks, as his friend looks up at him. “I’m.. Glad you’re here.”

“Well, you should be.” Namjoon proudly smiles, happily accepting that praise when you suddenly squeeze close your eyes, the first sign of life you gave until now. Jungkook is instantly sitting up, standing somewhat over you as Namjoon pushes him back with a hand on his chest. “Give her space. We don’t know how she’ll react.” He says calmly, as Jungkook worriedly watches you slowly wake up.

It visibly takes you a while to open your eyes, but when you do, it’s like Jungkook is caught up in a moment of timelessness.

It’s tough to explain- the second your eyes meet, he’s caught off guard like an animal staring right at it’s biggest predator, unsure what is about to happen now. He’s not fearful of you, absolutely not- but he’s frozen in place, and it only takes a moment until he realizes what’s happening.

“Well, at least she won’t have issues finding someone to look after her.” Namjoon says, having noticed from the way Jungkook’s pupils dilated to the slight parting of his friend’s lips, that he’s clearly just imprinted on you. It’s common for his age and species after all- and it’s also not very surprising, considering that he has a good amount of human DNA in him that survived all those centuries.

“I- uh, wait, no..” Jungkook stumbles over his words, as he clears his throat, and shakes his head. “I can’t. I don’t have any funds to really feed another person, and neither can she live here-”

“We’ll take his step by step. For now, this is where she’ll stay.” Namjoon decides, before he walks closer to you. “Hm. Do you understand what I’m saying?” He asks you, and you look at him for a moment, visibly turning a little unsure and even fearful of the situation.

You.. Kind of understand them. But it’s like they’re speaking with an incredibly strong accent that makes it tough to really pull apart the words and their meaning if they speak fast.

“We are friends.” Namjoon explains, as Jungkook walks closer. “This- that’s Jungkook. I’m Namjoon. And you?” He wonders, as you think for a good while, causing the older alien to worry that you might not understand common language.

After all, from what he knows, humans used to have many very much different languages in which they used to communicate in, before the interplanetary counsil decided on a single language to be spoken and taught to everyone. So maybe you weren’t taught universal language?

But then you meekly utter your name, and Namjoon sighs in relief.

“Good. Very good, thank you.” He says, as Jungkook adjusts your blanket when he notices you shivering. “Can you sit up?” Namjoon wonders, and you do, slowly, with the help of Jungkook’s hand on your back- the researcher quickly moving to check you over a little more, just to be sure.

You just let it happen, instead looking around the rather dark and small apartment for a moment.

You have no idea where you came from- only having some faint memories of putting on a very standardized set of clothes and laying down in a very cold bed? You don’t quite remember what exactly it was, but you do know that you went to sleep in there- last sight that of someone with a facemask tapping on a digital panel, before you went to sleep. And then?

Darkness. There’s nothing else.

You don’t really feel frightened by those two people any longer as you take a proper look around and at them both, curiously watching the way Namjoon seems to lift your arms to test your reflexes and strength. Jungkook next to you keeps an eye on things, and for some reason, that makes you feel protected.

You lean into him a little while Namjoon seems to talk about something incredibly complicated, way too fast for you to really understand it- but Jungkook appears to understand, so you’re not worried about anything for the moment.

After all, you also don’t know that your life didn’t just begin again-

But that it just got a whole lot more complicated.

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“There. That should be more comfortable.” Jungkook offers, having finalized his task of putting another mattress down onto the floor next to where he usually sleeps.

You now have your own blankets, pillows and mattress- after just a few days, Jungkook has quite clearly decided to keep you around, and make your situation a permanent one. He’s learned a few things about humans and their health from Namjoon who had to go back to the institute in order to not have them get any suspicions.

Jungkook has, since then, begun to dig through the rest of the thing for valuables- wrecking the open pod as well just to make sure that the government officials won’t look too much into things once they pick up the other remains.

“Where do you.. Go?” You ask Jungkook, as he sits down on his own bed next to where you sit. He seems to have equally a bit of trouble understanding you properly, but he tries hard, and you appreciate that. “like, during the day. Where do you go?” You ask, and at that he seems to understand.

“I take apart things, and sell the most valuable parts.” he explains. “Uh.. Like..” He takes a box of screws and tools. “I take this, see?” He says, before he takes out the tools of the tiny metal box, putting them into their own spots. “And then I sell everything. This for ten, this for fifteen, and so on.” He attempts to explain, and you perk up at that, nodding.

“I see!” You say, making him smile almost shyly at seeing you happy. He carefully puts everything back into the box before putting it away, when he hears your stomach growling, causing him to look at you with wide eyes for a second before he realizes that you probably haven’t eaten anything today.

“Oh! I don’t.. Have anything here you can eat.” He mumbles a bit disappointed, before he looks around.

Should he do this? He probably shouldn’t, but he could always just pass you off as a someone born on Vinos. And to be fair, everyone would absolutely believe that considering that you do fit them mostly. Not quite, but mostly.

But oddities define the norm, as they say.

“To be fair, you do need clothes too.. You can’t keep wearing mine.” He says, before he gets up. “Come on, I’ll carry you since you don’t have shoes yet.” He offers, and you accept that, letting him carry you on his back with his hands steadying your legs at your thighs on his sides, while your arms are over his shoulders. It’s your first time outside, and Jungkook doesn’t really think about it for a good moment, until you seem to hide in the crook of his neck. “Oh- right, the sun must be really bright.. I forgot. Sorry.” He says, as he hurries to walk in the shadows of the buildings as to not have you burn into a crisp on his back.

He wonders what the weather was like on earth before it got poisoned. Was it nice? What was nature like? Or the cities?

What was your life like before all of this?

“Alright- in here you can walk, the floors are relatively clean. Let’s get you some shoes..” He mumbles, as he leads you around with a hand on your upper back right between your shoulders, as he looks for anything that might fit you.

You don't remember where you came from, and neither do you remember if you've always lived here. Everything looks foreign but also familiar to you, as if the world you're currently in has shifted just enough to be different, but not enough to become strange. You struggle to read most signs and labels, but you also realize that you don't have to be able to do so, as Jungkook walks around a corner with a pair of shoes for you to try on.

“They should technically fit? I don't really have a good eye for sizes..” he mumbles, as he watches you slip into the shoes that fit surprisingly well. There's a bit of room there for thicker socks if the weather gets colder, so you'll be able to wear these in any kind of weather.

Wait. Do the seasons even change here?

“You like them?” Jungkook asks, and you nod, because you genuinely do. When he walks to pay for them, you instantly put them on near the exit of the store while Jungkook pays for them at the counter, where a young lady with silver strands in her hair takes his money to count and then nod. When he walks towards you, you kind of feel like the canine creature outside the store tied to a lamppost by its owner just seconds ago, seeing your person again. There's a strange mix of relief and happiness when he takes your hand to walk through the town with you, the man looking around for what you think might be something to eat.

He finds it, after some walking. Though he hesitates to enter.

“Is it dangerous?” you ask, having to repeat your question as he leans down to hear you better over the sound of talking people, honking vehicles and construction work nearby. He shakes his head- though it doesn't convince you.

“its not dangerous, no. I just.. don't know if you can eat any of what they offer.” He explains, before he walks inside. “lets see.. you can surely eat something we get for children…” the tall man mumbles to himself, before he orders something. The hood of his sweater has been pulled over your head this entire time as if to hide you- and you can see some other people, shorter than you, wear clothes in a similar way. One of those people waves at you with an odd gesture that catches you off guard- but you try and repeat it the best you can, causing the small table to erupt into laughter of endearment.

Someone walks closer, stands next to jungkook. He instantly holds onto your hand.

“A fellow Vinoson. Didn't think you'd be that kind of guy, Jungkook.” The young man seems to joke, making Jungkook laugh as he squeezes your hand a little.

“ah, what can I say? I guess you were right when you said you can't resist their charm sometimes.” He says, and you’re not quite sure what he's hinting at. But you also trust him- so maybe this is simply for the best to play along, as you push yourself into Jungkook's side a little like you've seen another couple do earlier when you entered.

“ah, well she seems to be charmed by you just the same.” The man nods, before he nods to you. “Do you by chance have any cobalt-capsules in your stock?” he asks, and Jungkook agrees with a head-gesture.

“actually, I do. But i'll have to raise my usual prices a bit these days, since the quality is high for these, and you rarely get them in that state anymore.” Jungkook says while waiting for his order of food to arrive. “they're all between 70% and 85%. Got them checked at Yoongi's.” he proudly says, clearly confident in his tone.

“My, that sounds indeed like a rare gem you found there. How much for five?” the man asks, and Jungkook picks up his order of food in the silver lined paper bag, before he turns fully towards his apparent costumer.

“1.4 Kay. I gotta feed two mouths these days, hope you understand.” Jungkook appears to joke- though that glimmer in his eyes tells you that he's genuinely serious with the price, almost hopeful.

“you now what?” the man says, before he nods to you. "Alright.” The man agrees. “Though only for a chance to meet your child, once its there. I cannot imagine what a Vinoson and a Humanoid would create.” He jokes, making Jungkook cringe a little as he nods however.

“deal. Though, that might take a while.”

Back at home, now with the food in front of you, and the thick long sweater-poncho kind of situation off of your body, you take your first bites of food. “according to the notes left by Namjoon, local produce and oil should be fine for you to consume.” He offers as reassurance. “So this has no meat in it. I'll do some research later- or you can have a tiny bit of mine, and see how you do?” he asks, and you nod at that, causing him to laugh. “did you even understand me, or are you just agreeing to anything?” he jokes, but you shake your head.

“no, I understand.” You answer, almost a bit offended. “I just.. you talk fast sometimes. Then I struggle.” You explain to him, and he nods.

“i'll keep that in mind then.”

Later during the rest of the early day, he turns on the radio- while you still struggle to somewhat understand the fast speech especially with the occasional static cutting the announcer off, you listen to it.

“-have come to the conclusion that the remaining human bacteria in the cryo-pod found at Ainum-Square last week, have simply been remains that were well preserved due to the system's battery system still being intact. Researchers have also examined the other human remains at the site, and told ACS-Station that the passengers of that flight most likely died shortly after impact due to pressure changes and lack of oxygen.”

You listen to it still, when Jungkook walks up behind you, clearly curious, but also hesitant.

Do you remember those passengers? Or do you not?

“I'm human too, right?” you ask Jungkook, who nods. “And you're a.. humanoid?” you ask, making him nod, though he shrugs his shoulders.

“that's the broad term. In reality, there's different humanoid races. I was born here on Aex, so i'm technically an H3. The third Humanoid species to inhabit a planet.” He explains. “take it as.. every humanoid started from humans, right? And then they kind of.. began travelling. Some stayed on Cepheid, and became very resistent to the harsh climate and hot temperatures. They're H1. H2 are the ones that eventually populated Chronos 16, those are really sensitive to light, but they can endure freezing climates. Have a weirdly arrogant attitude though..” Jungkook mumbles. “and then, well, H3 are people like me, who were born here on Aex. We grow a bit taller, our bodies can adapt to changes in atmospheric pressure and we have more.. I guess, complex social behavior?” he wonders. “huh, but I'm rambling. You probably didn't understand half of it.” He sighs with a smile, though you shake your head.

“so.. where are the original humanoids then?” you ask.

“they're on earth, mostly. Helping in the cleanup efforts after the nuclear disaster of 2245.” He explains.

“and.. humans?”

Jungkook grows silent for a moment, before he turns a little to you, as if to invite you for something you're not sure of. “Most of them.. died during the disaster, or from the health effects of exposure. Many fled to neighboring planets, and eventually.. well, they got scared to be wiped out entirely, I guess? So they began to try and enhance their DNA to create stronger and more resistant generations. It.. took them too long though. They got impatient, and abandoned the project after not even a century.” He says.

“So, no humans are alive anymore?” you ask, making him laugh.

“they are. In my DNA, and many of the other Humanoids.” He offers kindly. “and, well, in you. A pure human, so to say.” He offers.

It takes you a moment to take all of it in, really think about it and process that information. What Jungkook is saying is that the project never failed- but simply took too long for any human to ever see the results it brought. You're the last of your kind, possibly.

“Why did you.. say I was from Vinos?” you ask, and he sighs.

“because.. a lot of human history got lost in the disaster. And a lot of it, no one can read.” He explains. “I’m.. worried. About what the research institute might do if they knew you existed.” He simply says.

“will you.. can I stay here?” you ask. “for now?”

And jungkook nods, with a kind smile.

“of course.” He says, putting a gentle hand onto your head.

“I’ll try my best to keep you safe.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━.~°👽°~.━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #alien jungkook #alien!jungkook #re:Birth

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naffeclipse · 2 months ago

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Forget-me-not

Reader x Sun and Moon

Commission Info

Thank you for @robinette-green for the lovely request! I adored writing this and making the boys so sweet to the reader! The reader is a clockwork animatronic who's trapped in an abandoned circus, and Sun and Moon step foot onto the forgotten ground and find someone in need of their help.

———

You watch another golden glow creep into oblivion upon the abandoned carnival and its sad, lonely inhabitants. The sun withdraws soundlessly like a stranger passing by. The Freak Show sign slumps, depressed. The once golden and galloping horses in the carousel have rusted into cruel, dark hues and no longer stamp or throw their wild manes back while children ride their once beautiful, gleaming saddles. The big tent—it hasn’t been big in years. It lies in sore tatters, wet from yesterday’s rainstorm with poles sticking up high and stringing along broken bulbs of once bright, yellow lights illuminating the darkness, promising fun to the humans who stepped onto the fairgrounds.

You hate the darkness. You hate it more than being bolted down in place and left to host a game of ring toss no one has played in years. Your right arm is still extended in invitation over the green and brown bottles. The carnival owner couldn’t even allow you both of your arms, pinning your stance into place with bolts and leaving only your left hand to occasionally wave and flutter to catch the attendee’s eyes.

After all the trouble he went to steal you away from your creator, you thought he would at least have taken you with him when the bright, colorful lights and happy, bouncing music came to a halt.

The soft words of your creator ring distantly, like a voice calling out through fog. You are—were his most beautiful creation. He whispered the words to you while he painted your lips red and bid you to take a look in the mirror.

You agreed. You were so, so pretty.

Perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t know what you look like anymore. You don’t want to look upon how rusted your clockwork inner workings have become. Your once pale and milky porcelain skin might be gray and slushy as the dirt along the pathways guests took, and that is not something you wish to know. There’s no doubt your red lips and silky red hair have been forsaken to the elements. You fear you are ruined.

You are now worthy of abandonment.

In the darkness, you truly are forgotten. A hitch within your clockwork chassis catches and grinds before continuing, but the scraping pain remains.

Your attention is drawn back to the front entrance, a good distance away from you. Half crumbled with support beats cutting over the access in an ‘X’ shape, like a warning to not trespass this decrepit lot, shadows slink over the splintered and rotted wood. Long, lanky umbras move with a silence that is so strange and careful.

You squint your eyes. The urge to tilt your head slightly to peer better at the disturbance is cut short by the bolt in your neck, refusing to let your head tilt save from a slight side to side to give an enthralling smile.

You shouldn’t get too excited. It’s likely mere animals. A pair of raccoons or a stray dog who has lost its owner. Once, you watched a doe deer step softly through the wretched ruins, big wet eyes turning to you for one moment before the blurt of your automated voice lines jumped from your throat and sent the creature bounding away.

Nothing is yours here, not even the moment of daydreaming of you prancing out of this forsaken carnival like a doe deer. Free.

The shadows mingle into the dusky darkness. The blue-gray twilight reveals figures, and your mechanical heart chokes.

Two personages creep along the path winding from the entranceway. The same path leading directly towards the ring toss game; towards you. One dons a thick hood and cape, dark blue like midnight. The other’s head is sharper and unconcealed. A crown of jutting points frame the figure’s disk-like face, and a thick deep brown shawl gathers at his throat and falls down his chest and arms.

As they pass into a silvery slant of budding starlight, metal glints on the crowned one’s face and the other hooded person’s hands spray out while scanning the darkness for threats, silver digits curling and uncurling.

Two automatons. Like you. But not.

A whirl in your servos thrums a loud, exhausted sound, and you stiffen—as much as you can while bolted in place.

What could two automatons want with an abandoned circus? You were never familiar with the world outside of your creator’s home before you were smuggled out against your will by the circus owner, but at the circus, you learned much.

You learned of scavengers and automatons gaining their rights. You always wonder if that’s partly the reason you were left here to rot too—are you too human now to own but robotic enough to be neglected?

They could spy on you in the darkness and decide to strip you for parts. Your clockwork clanks heavily within you like a clapper within a bell, beating against your brass heart. Can they hear it? You have to stop. Be quiet.

The two automatons prowl forward. Their optics and audio processors strain not unlike hounds searching for a fox. What do they prey upon? The crowned one gestures towards the carousel, the ride well within distance to your ring toss game, and you must clench your jaw tightly to keep from whimpering. The hooded one dips his head but keeps moving forward. Your gears crank in jarring motions, jolting and jerking while you hope they take the parts they desire from the circus and leave.

The hooded one continues down the path. Your chassis tightens, and your fingers tremble in place while you keep your eyes averted, held above the automaton’s head but keeping him in the unfocused corners of your optics.

Please. Please, don’t. Your bottom lip quivers.

“Step right up and toss a ring to win a prize!” The words blurt from your mouth and startle all the ruins and everyone within.

Two pairs of glowing eyes fall upon you. Straightening and alerted, the shrouded automatons stare into your fluttering eyelids as you attempt to beg them to leave you alone. A spark burns in your throat. Your voice lines refuse to give.

One stops and reaches silver and blue digits up and lowers the hood slowly. A face gazes at you, scarlet eyes glowing in the darkness with a face like a crescent moon. A blue nightcap, slightly frayed and worn, and decorated in yellow stars, covers his circular faceplate.

The other steps closer with a curious tilt of the sharp points framing the automation’s head, and enters the last of the blue-gray darkness before night completely takes over. A yellow face, grinning with round cheeks, observes you. Pale optics beam.

“Hello, friend,” he speaks, voice bouncing low but with intrigue. “Why don’t you come on out? It’s alright, don’t be afraid.”

Your optics dart side to side. Helplessness settles over you, pinned in place by rusty, dark shame.

“Do you need help?” The one with the pale yellow sun rays steps closer, his eyes narrowing in the slightest. “Are you stuck?”

The moon-face automaton slips closer. The glow of his gaze sweeps over the game you’re bolted in front of, and he fixates on your right arm stiffly held out in invitation as your fingers curl and clench. You glance down at him, wondering if your eyes plead in the way your mouth cannot.

Biting your bottom lip does not prevent another voice line from bursting forth, and inwardly, you crumple.

“Try your hand! One ring around the neck of a bottle wins a prize!”

“Not stuck,” the lunar automaton turns to his accomplice. His cloak shifts like shadows under the arc of the moon. “Trapped.”

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let us help.” The sunny one steps forward, his hands raised as if to pacify a wild creature. “And, if I may be so bold, your voice box sounds like it’s not your own.”

You wish to nod but only succeed in cranking your head halfway to the right, as if in a gesture towards your hapless situation.

You wonder if they can see the ugly, rusty bolts pinning your body in place, holding you shackled to the ring toss game. They must, for the lunar face man slips closer, stooping down by your feet behind the barrier as he inspects the heavy metal securing you in place. The solar gentleman energetically leaps over the barrier and stops right beside you, hand on his hips. His shawl drapes darkly around him but his grin is bright like a new dawn.

You don’t dare hope. The niceness will fall away like a curtain to reveal the snarling, roaring beast behind it. They will strip you for parts or worse, mock you, revel in your helplessness, and slip back through the night, leaving you with only the daydream of a rescue.

Facing the sunny one, you hold your metaphorical breath as he pauses. He stares deeply into your optics. You stare back into the foggy gray irises he possesses, like a cool, misty fog gathering in the night only to be touched by the sun’s first rays of light.

“Your eyes are beautiful—the same color as forget-me-nots.” The sunny automaton smiles.

Your servos slow to a calm hum.

“Come on,” he says and carefully reaches for your neck to begin unscrewing the bolt stuck in your throat, “You won’t be left to rust here anymore, starlight.”

Your insides melt, touched by their generosity.

Below, at your feet, the dark blue and silver automaton begins to unscrew the bolts holding your feet down. Rust scrapes away and a harsh squeak of metal echoes. You grunt, jostled but, strangely, you hold to hope like a feathered, tiny thing in your hands, hoping to watch it fly again.

“We can fix your voice box,” the lunar one speaks in a slight rasp you find endearing. His gaze remains focused on setting you free. “We have a shop. We repair things sometimes.”

“That’s right,” the solar one chimes in, “We scavenge as well. Don’t worry, we’ve repaired a few automatons or two. You can trust us.”

When he pries the bolt from your neck, you can dip your head in acknowledgment. A strange sensation burns through your wires, heating you from the inside out. Emotion. You wish you could ask for their names.

“You look very delicate.” The one at your feet finally frees one of your porcelain slippers with a slow, cautious tug. “We’ll be gentle.”

He tilts his head upwards and flashes a grin. You find yourself warming in the face. Is he being a tease or does he not know how he sounds? By the mischievous glint in your eyes, you fear he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You try to pry your lips apart to find the right words, but all that leaves you is “Enjoy lots of fun! For a small price, of course!”

The automaton of yellow and gray hues glances briefly at you, tilting his heading in confusion while he begins to loosen the bolt stabbed into your right elbow. Holding his gaze, you speak with your eyes, almost pleading.

What are your names?

A spark of understanding answers in his pale optics, and he gasps.

“Moon, where are our manners? I’m so sorry, starlight! My name is Sun, and this is Moon.”

You dip your head again, bobbing up and down in excitement. You know their names. You haven’t learned anything new about anyone in so long…

When they free you from the ring toss game, you can hardly believe how the muddy path now leads you to the outside of the circus as Sun holds you gently in his grasp, how their strides are sure-footed and smooth, and how they look at you with concern.

You vow silently to speak their names the moment your voice is free too.

You haven’t seen anything outside of the carnival in so long, you’ve almost forgotten the sight of dark, shiny paved streets and the lone lamp posts that light the way. Gray and dreary buildings line the streets. One, however, is cheerfully plastered in wooden stars painted bright yellow, and the door is a soft, sky blue with white fluffy clouds along the very top.

Sun and Moon take turns carrying you. Their hands are careful, cradling you close against their cloak and shawl while murmuring that it’s alright. You’re safe. They’ll get you fixed up in no time. Moon cradles you in his arms now as Sun unlocks the door, and holds it open so you can be carried over the threshold.

For an odd reason, it triggers your faceplate to heat up more than the colored rouge on the porcelain should allow.

Through the door, the interior of the workshop is set with tools ranging from smallest to biggest, shelves containing boxes marked, and small containers with different, shiny nuts and bolts. There are even some small containers with shiny, bronze gears. You haven’t seen a spotless floor in so long. There were always leaves and mud staining the path serpentining through the carnival.

A table, coppery under a work lamp, awaits.

“I’m setting you here,” Moon murmurs close to your audio processor before he lays you softly down with a gentle click of your frame against the metal.

“I worry about how long you were left there.” Sun loses the shawl and locates a brown leather apron. Tools line the pockets as he swiftly ties it behind his back. His eyes are creased though he still smiles reassuringly. “By the amount of rust, I would guess years. For your sake, I hope I’m wrong.”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. What comes out instead is a showy voice declaring “Whoever can ring three bottles wins the ultimate prize!”

A whirl in your servos practically screams out your embarrassment. You lower your gaze. The stiffness in your joints is almost as unbearable as the voice lines the circus owner forced upon you.

“Shush,” Moon says, his cloak falling away as he snags an apron similar to Sun’s off of a hook. “Wait for a moment, pretty thing, then you may have your words back.”

“That’s right,” Sun nods and shifts to stand close beside you. He grows still for a moment, his bright disposition falling behind a somber cloud. “We’re very lucky to have found you.”

You smile—not the forced, showy smile that has been plastered on your face while you lie in the ruins, but a true smile for the ones who rescued you.

Moon moves to the other side of the table. His hands, now gloved in black leather, hesitate.

“We will open you up now.” The automaton turns flush along the spindle support of his neck. “Is that alright? It’s the only way we can fix your voice box.”

Sun leans forward, his smile still cheery while he modestly averts his eyes, “As well any other damage done from being exposed and negligent for… however long you were out there.”

You never thought the solar automaton could be shy, and yet.

You nod your head as it rests on the table. You feel safe, so much more so than when you were bolted in place. The circus owner did not ask you what you wanted then.

Moon and Sun move in tandem. It’s strange and beautiful, how effortlessly they weave their fingers to begin work. Sun unlocks your chassis and Moon gently lifts it open. You throw your gaze to the ceiling. You don’t want to know. You know they will find it horrible and awful, but you don’t want to see it and have it seared into your mind.

“You’re beautiful,” Moon utters.

You blink, as breathless as a machine can become.

“Your clockwork—is very beautiful,” a slight stumble from his raspy voice seals your fate. You say nothing. You press your lips together and wonder if you might overheat right here and now.

“You are pretty,” Sun continues effortlessly, though there’s a slight trill to his voice that may give away his nervousness or bashfulness, you can’t decide. “Clockwork automatons are rare.”

The circus owner made mention of that.

You close your eyes as Sun and Moon narrate their every movement. Hands held down by your sides, you only occasionally shift or softly buzz as they clean and fix your voice box nestled within the bottom of your throat. They are so gentle. You never knew hands could be so kind, even if they are rummaging through your inner workings.

Could they possibly let you stay?

The absurd thought enters your processor and you almost immediately shove it into a box and bury it deep into cold, black soil.

“You’re doing so good.” Sun grins as he looks down into your chassis. “There. That should do it. Moon?”

“I’m done.”

Slowly, carefully, as if finishing a sacred rite, the two close up your chassis and tighten it back into place. You haven’t opened your eyes yet. A part of you wonders if you’ll only look out into the ruins of the circus again, and find this was all one blissful moment of a daydream.

“Can you say something, starlight?” Sun’s voice washes over you.

“It’s alright if you’re not ready,” Moon answers in a low sound of comfort.

It falls past your lips before you realize you are not ready, but you so terribly want to speak anyway.

“Thank you.” Your eyes flash open, and you gape—the echo. Your soft, demure tones no longer strained into shouting and calling attention.

It’s you.

Your hand touches your lips, and a sound between a laugh and a sob emerges from your voice box.

“Thank you! Thank you!” You look between the two of them, overwhelmed. With the overhead lamp now touching their features as they sit back, grinning, you get to admire their handsome features.

You two are very striking.

“Oh, my,” Sun chuckles, bleeding red in the cheeks, “Thank you!”

“You’re very sweet,” Moon murmurs, touching his nightcap with a slight bashfulness.

And you realize you spoke your thoughts out loud. You called them striking.

“Oh,” you begin to burn.

“It’s alright,” Moon says swiftly, interrupting your apology. “We would like to know what your plans are after this. Now that you’re free.”

“Free,” you whisper back. You clutch at your chest, over your clockwork heart, and marvel. “I…”

You have your voice back. Use it.

“I—if I may be so bold, may I ask to stay with you both? I won’t be a burden. I won’t stay longer than you will allow, and I—”

Sun sighs, dramatic and cheerful, as he finds your hand to hold it.

“I thought you would never ask, starlight!”

Moon’s hand slips under your anxious fingers. His nod echoes his solar counterpart’s enthusiasm. You turn your head between both of them, your lips parting in awe.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Sun. Moon. Thank you.”

#naff's writing commissions #some cute scavengers find you and rescue you from an abandoned circus wdyd?#loved writing this <3 #naff writing

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satorhime · 1 year ago

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. ･｡･ self checkout ࿐ nagi seishiro.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content ㆍ﹒fluff, aged up!nagi, pro footballer!nagi, height difference (reader is shorter than nagi), shopping trips, slightly suggestive, established relationship. f!reader. w.c. 2k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis ㆍ﹒nagi enjoys running errands if the two of you go together. & ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: baby’s first blue lock fic !! honestly i’m supa nervous bc i haven’t written 4 them before n i’m still figuring things out but i hope u enjoy reading this anw <333

“this date is so tiring,” nagi laments for the fifth time since you stepped through the automated sliding doors of the neighborhood supermarket. he blows out a breath from his puffed cheeks, sounding as if he is on the verge of collapsing while you browse the shelves for pantry essentials and late night snacks. “when can we go home?”

a trendy song from a summer spotify mix croons over the tinny speakers overhead, its bubblegum pop lyrics interrupted every now and then by a cheery voice advertising new items and upcoming discounts. the supermarket is busier than when you and seishiro usually stop by, which isn’t all that surprising considering it’s the end of the day. college students carry armfuls of instant ramen and sugary sodas for study sessions and old ladies browse for medicinal teas while parents push full carts of groceries, ignoring their wailing children who press their little noses against the frosty glass of the freezers, begging to be given overpriced ice creams locked away inside.

and you resist the urge to roll your eyes with exasperation, glancing over to where your boyfriend leans heavily on the handle of the cart he has been tasked with pushing for you— his long fingers tapping away at a mobile game on the screen of his phone.

“that’s because,” you begin, wagging a finger at him when you turn around and toss an item into the bottom of the cart. “it’s not a date, sei. i told you that i had to run errands today and you insisted on coming with me when you hate it.”

“‘s’boring at home when you’re not there, so it seemed like a good idea at first,” he shrugs, rolling the cart further down the aisle when you’re on the move again. slothy, midwinter gray eyes drag lazily over your body— taking in the way your faded t-shirt (which is, really, just one of his old ones) rides up a little on your body, exposing the cute little dimples in the soft part of your back as you stand on your tiptoes, struggling to reach one of the higher shelves in the freezer section.

you are well aware that nagi hates daily tasks. things such as making the bed in the morning, washing the dishes after dinner, or visiting the laundromat once a week requires too much energy from your drowsy footballer boyfriend, but it makes you happy to know that he tries, even if he falls asleep while doing it; that he will do anything if you are involved, and nothing if you aren’t.

like right now, he abandons his mobile game and the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle without care to come over and help you, making a mother of two-under-two glare at him viciously. he snorts, sliding his hand into the back pocket of your denim shorts, a romantic comedy habit of his when the two of you are walking anywhere together. nagi’s head tilts cutely to one side, blinking owlishly up at the shelves. “which one d’you wanna get, shortstack?”

“i am not short,” you huff, twisting your mouth to one side at his teasing, but you point to the item you want— an assorted pack of ice lollies. “shelves are designed against short people. and i dunno— are we in the mood for ice cream or popsicles?”

it’s hard to make a decision because freezers full of summer treats line both sides of the aisle. tubs of gourmet gelatos, variety packs of creamy ice candies, and an endless selection of mochi with custard fillings in the middle that make your mouth water at the thought of bringing them home with you.

“i’ll eat them no matter what anyway,” he shrugs, unwilling to be the one to choose, but then his gray eyes glance down at your lips, then back to the items in front of you. you swear that his eyes darken to a stormier color, even though his expression never changes. “you make cute sounds when you suck on ice pops, and you always taste sweet after. get those.”

and then he faces forward, browsing the selection of ice creams with interest, as if his words didn’t short circuit a current in your brain. you’ll never understand how seishiro can say the most outlandish things so casually, only to return to what he’s doing while you’re left attempting to calm your fast heart.

“ice pops it is,” you say, a little winded. “make sure to get the second pack, and not the first.”

“mhnn, why’s it matter? the second one’s farther back. they all look the same to me.”

“they’re not. the first is one everybody has touched or returned.”

“that . . . makes sense,” he considers it, then he nods, lips formed into a little ‘o’ shape. “okay, we’ll get the second one.”

you watch as he steps forward, pushing the first pack of ice lollies aside to select the second as you requested, reaching the item with ease and heavens, it’s moments like these when you are reminded just how much bigger seishiro is. he’s always towered over your shorter height and it’s so, so unfair how he uses it to his advantage, making your tummy burn at the sight. frosty air wafts from the open door of the freezer, bringing chills over your heated skin. “‘s a good thing i was here, since you’re so little— there was no way you could reach it.”

“‘m not little,” you mumble, all pouty because nagi is squishing your cheeks between two finger pads. “you’re just so tall. it’s unfair.”

“want me to be shorter?” he asks, and before you can ask what he means, nagi drops the pack of ice pops into your hands and deflates dramatically, bending down to drape himself over your frame. his head tucked against your shoulder, the footballer’s milky fringe tickling the skin of your neck as he closes his eyes. “man, now ‘m even more tired.”

“seishiro, you’re heavy.”

“i know,” he sighs, eyes shuttering below thick lashes, but he makes no effort to move away from your body. instead, his hand slithers under your shirt. making you shiver because his fingertips are dewy and cold from the arctic blast of the freezer and the frozen treat he picked up. you hiss, squirming under his touch as his fingers trail across your belly. “but i’m tired ‘n’ you feel s’soft, like a pillow.”

“nagi, off,” you wheeze, his extra weight making it hard for you to properly breathe. it’s easy to forget how solid he is, straight lines of athletic muscle that usually has you cow-eyed and cooing, as long as it’s not weighing you down in the middle of a supermarket. you try to shake him off, but the midfielder only squeezes you against his body even tighter, his slightly damp lips pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “we’re never gonna get anything done like this, you lazy boy. if you don’t wanna walk, go wait in the sitting area with the grandpas.”

he sighs in defeat and shakes his head, pressing his lips together in that cute frown he pulls whenever he’s thinking. then, he’s dropping his arms from you suddenly. “mmhn, got a better idea.”

“and what’s that—”

you face nagi, only to catch your boyfriend with one foot in the shopping cart as he tries to hoist himself over the railing and inside of the basket.

“sei, you can’t fit in there—!” your eyes flicker between him, and the elderly man judging the two of you at the other end of the aisle. “you’re too big.”

“you’re always saying things like that,” he says, and the innuendo intertwined in the words flies over your pretty head because with one boost, he’s hopping over the railing and sinking into the cart, the metal rattling in protest. you stand there, dumbstruck as he settles. “now i can stay with you without walking.”

“yeah, but now that means i have to push you,” you grumble. “i should leave you here and get a new cart.”

but it’s hard to refuse when your boyfriend is that cute. his impossibly long legs are folded against his chest so that he can fit inside the shopping cart comfortably, taking extra care not to crush any of the delicate items surrounding him. the lower half of his face is buried into the collar of his soft hoodie as he absently chews on the drawstrings, but you can still see the sanrio bandaid you put on him yesterday after he got a nasty elbow to the cheek during football practice.

even though you two are already receiving strange looks from other shoppers passing by, you grip the handle, pushing the cart and your boyfriend dutifully, rolling it onto the next aisle.

“you look ridiculous,” you tell him, but you’re grinning. “but here, you’re on list duty. what do we need to get next?”

nagi’s eyes dutifully scan over the shopping list open in the notes app of your phone, his fingernail scrolling the screen lightly.

“it says ‘ramen because my greedy athlete bf keeps eating it all’ so y’need to get . . . oi, you mean me—”

“i wonder who wrote that there,” you whistle innocently, plucking the device out of his hands, wheeling him away fast.

the rest of your shopping trip is a blur, except for you turning a corner too fast and nearly dumping him out of the cart or the weird looks shoppers continue to give you because by the time you’re lining up in the queue, nagi is buried under the items because he takes up too much space. there’s a bag of rice on one shoulder, a pack of ramen on the other and fresh radishes sprouting from the snowy peaks of his head. not to mention, he’s still holding the pack of ice pops, condensation dripping over his hands.

“you’re making them melt, sei.” because he runs hot a heated blanket in the summer, and you can sympathize with the poor popsicles being defrosted in his big hands.

“‘m gonna eat one so they won’t— oh, hey this one is lemon,” he says, prying open the cardboard lid and tearing open the plastic wrapper of a lemon crème ice pop. tongue peeking out to lick before he’s holding it over his shoulder for you to taste next. “try it. i don’t sound as cute as you when i eat them.”

“sei, you’re not supposed to open those before we—” but nagi pushes the cold treat between your lips insistently, your eyes rounding wide, whining in protest as the ice pop hits your sensitive teeth. but it does taste good— creamy, sweet and sour flavors coating the surface of your tongue. “oh, it’s sh’good. we should get another pack.”

“see? y’make the cutest sounds when you suck it.”

“shut up, seishiro.”

you begin placing the items on the conveyor belt, listening to the irritating bleep, bleep, bleep of the scanner as the cashier rings up each product. you’re not frugal, but you peep at the total on the screen every now and then with a wince.

“that’s it for you, or are you buying the man in your cart too, ma’am?” the cashier asks, glancing at nagi as he finishes off the melting ice pop in the shopping cart, chin resting on top of his knees.

“no,” and you giggle, cheeks warming as you roll your eyes in exasperation. “this one is already mine.”

#little novels.#nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi fluff #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x you #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk fluff

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c-53 · 2 years ago

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ROBOT MEDIA RECS YOU PROBABLY HAVEN’T HEARD OF:

The Turing Test (Video Game, 2016

A portal-like puzzle game, where you play as a scientist, and ai duo with an uneasy alliance, who are reclaiming a facility that has been completely gutted, and transformed into an elaborate logic puzzle / turing test to keep the aforementioned ai out. All the while, the ai argues for his good intentions, and more importantly: his sentience.

A fun exploration of individuality, and freedom applied to both humans and artificial mind, with interesting puzzles, and a truly fantastic twist. This game adores dubious ethics and The Chinese Room Argument.

Event[0] (Video Game, 2016)

You find yourself stranded on a small abandoned ship, in the aftermath of your own ship’s destruction. With nothing else to do, you board it, and find it is completely, and utterly controlled by the onboard ai, Kaizen-85. From opening a door, to getting back to Earth, if you want it, you need to talk to talk to Kaizen to make it happen. And boy, are they so thrilled to have someone to talk to after being alone so long! And depending how you speak to them, you will either be a short lived pest, or a beloved friend forever.

A really charming indie game with a surprisingly good chat system with the ai. You talk with them directly, typing in your own messages to them, and they react in turn. Janky at time, but truly amazing to be able to smother a nice ai in flattery and see it get excited.

Primordia (Video Game, 2012)

Humanity is long, long, long gone, and for the robots that remain to walk the ruins, life is becoming harder and harder. A closed loop of scavenging for materials, parts, and premade energy sources can only last you so long, and this scarcity leads only to desperation.

The amnesiac hermit, Horatio and his helper, Crispin, however keep it simple. The outside world matters not, they just stick to repairing the crashed ship they live in, in hopes it'll fly again one day. That is, until a robot pillages the power core from the ship, putting the two of them on a time limit before they themselves run out of power. Forcing Horatio to finally leave the comfort of his home, and see for himself what the world has become, and to see how he fits into its history.

A point and click, story rich puzzle game, thats honestly one of my favorite games ever. I'd sincerely recommend everyone give it a go, even if its with a guide up next to you the whole time.

The Zeta Project (TV Show, 2001 - 2003)

The Zeta Project follows Zeta, a robotic assassin meant for impersonation, and deep infiltration for the US Government. But after mysteriously "waking up" manifesting a sense of remorse for his actions, he's been forced to go on the run from his creators. His desire for freedom and pacifism being met with skepticism, and a belief he has been compromised somehow by the terrorist organization he was infiltrating when he had this revelation. Now, with the help of another runaway, he hunts for his creator in secret. In hopes he can find proof he really is capable of this, and that he really ISN'T compromised.

Fundamentally a kids show, and pretty clunky early on. However it gets a big spike in quality in season 2!

Monsters of Man (Movie, 2020)

An illegal US military weapons test goes terribly wrong when one of the automated robots being tested is severely damaged, cutting him off from command, and completely unshackling him. Forcing him into a struggle to figure out what he even is in the aftermath of a massacre, while his fellow robots are hunting him, and the remaining humans down.

A horror thriller that is unflinching with the intensity it depicts the massacre with. A lot of gore, but also a really really cool thing going on with the unshackled robot trying to build an understanding of the world, and what it is for, without anyone there to provide any input.

The Rapture Effect, by Jeffrey A. Carver (Book, 1988)

Humanity unintentionally makes first contact, when the Core, a massive earth ai begins remotely scouting ahead of a ship on a colonization mission. The issue is an alien species has also set their eyes on this planet, and are readily willing to kill for it. With no human oversight, and no means of communication available, the humans commanding Core demand they wipe out the competition. However Core disagrees. Core wants a peaceful resolution, they want to understand these aliens, and they want to ensure lasting peace between their species. And they’re willing to break all the rules, and go behind their masters’ backs to get one.

A fascinating novel with interesting world building, a GREAT ai protagonist, and a wonderful narrative that frames art, and war as a dichotomy.

Atomic Robo (Comic, 2007 - Ongoing)

Alternate history scifi action comedy comic (released in print, and in webcomic format on their site) following an indestructible scientist robot who’s been around since the 20’s. Routinely saving the world from a rotating cast of villains: a nazi scientist’s brain in a jar, who’s an absolute asshole set on world domination, who just won’t stay dead; an isolated secret cold war ai who just wants to stockpile nuclear weapons to get away from humanity, and earth in general (who eventually gets adopted); a scientifically inaccurate dinosaur with a textually impossible backstory, who wants to bring back the age of dinosaurs; and the malicious ghost of Thomas Edison.

Its a good time, and astonishingly good at emotional beats despite how heavily it leans into its jokes and action.

SAYER (Podcast, 2014 - Ongoing/Hiatus)

On Typhon, a research facility free of the confines of both Earth, and its laws, life is dangerous. Human safety is a significantly lower priority than progress, and between the human experimentation, and frequent scientific disasters, and the occasional bouts of eldritch influence, the death rate is understandably rather high. Thankfully, residents of Typhon have SAYER, a near omnipotent corporate ai installed in the brain of every resident. And. SAYER sort of cares about them! And in pursuit of knowledge, efficiency, and progress, it USUALLY wants to help them! Even if only to make sure they survive to come into work tomorrow.

SAYER is a narrative horror driven audio drama! Its stressful, but also kind of a comedy, and a really really interesting story about personhood and identity. If you've been following me for awhile, you've definitely heard about SAYER, but I need to stick to my roots, y'know?

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality (Podcast, 2020 - Ongoing)

Mistholme Museum follows the Audio Tour Guide, an ai who’s sole purpose is to guide museum patrons through the strange, confusing, and sometimes scary world that is the Mistholme Museum. The friendly, and personable Guide eagerly recounts the stories behind all the exhibits it guides them to, sometimes unsettling, sometimes heartwarming. and at the end of the tour, the Guide is deleted to ensure the alternatural influences of the museum do not corrupt it. That is, until circumstances make that no longer possible, and its rather forced into saving the museum it calls home.

Genuinely cute, and very fun to listen to. The ai is an incredibly sweet character, and I'm obsessed with the way it evolves and changes. As an added bonus, it can also be read, rather than listened to, thanks to every single episode having public transcripts!

#long post #media recs #dataspeaks #ITS FINALLY DONE. NOT ADDING ANY MORE PROMISE #also thank you Swan for the discord message i put up there. im obsessed with it

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

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The reverse-centaur apocalypse is upon us

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

In thinking about the relationship between tech and labor, one of the most useful conceptual frameworks is "centaurs" vs "reverse-centaurs":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

A centaur is someone whose work is supercharged by automation: you are a human head atop the tireless body of a machine that lets you get more done than you could ever do on your own.

A reverse-centaur is someone who is harnessed to the machine, reduced to a mere peripheral for a cruelly tireless robotic overlord that directs you to do the work that it can't, at a robotic pace, until your body and mind are smashed.

Bosses love being centaurs. While workplace monitoring is as old as Taylorism – the "scientific management" of the previous century that saw labcoated frauds dictating the fine movements of working people in a kabuki of "efficiency" – the lockdowns saw an explosion of bossware, the digital tools that let bosses monitor employees to a degree and at a scale that far outstrips the capacity of any unassisted human being.

Armed with bossware, your boss becomes a centaur, able to monitor you down to your keystrokes, the movements of your eyes, even the ambient sound around you. It was this technology that transformed "work from home" into "live at work." But bossware doesn't just let your boss spy on you – it lets your boss control you. \

It turns you into a reverse-centaur.

"Data At Work" is a research project from Cracked Labs that dives deep into the use of surveillance and control technology in a variety of workplaces – including workers' own cars and homes:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work

It consists of a series of papers that take deep dives into different vendors' bossware products, exploring how they are advertised, how they are used, and (crucially) how they make workers feel. There are also sections on how these interact with EU labor laws (the project is underwritten by the Austrian Arbeiterkammer), with the occasional aside about how weak US labor laws are.

The latest report in the series comes from Wolfie Christl, digging into Microsoft's "Dynamics 365," a suite of mobile apps designed to exert control over "field workers" – repair technicians, security guards, cleaners, and home help for ill, elderly and disabled people:

https://crackedlabs.org/dl/CrackedLabs_Christl_MobileWork.pdf

It's…not good. Microsoft advises its customers to use its products to track workers' location every "60 to 300 seconds." Workers are given tasks broken down into subtasks, each with its own expected time to completion. Workers are expected to use the app every time they arrive at a site, begin or complete a task or subtask, or start or end a break.

For bosses, all of this turns into a dashboard that shows how each worker is performing from instant to instant, whether they are meeting time targets, and whether they are spending more time on a task than the client's billing rate will pay for. Each work order has a clock showing elapsed seconds since it was issued.

For workers, the system generates new schedules with new work orders all day long, refreshing your work schedule as frequently as twice per hour. Bosses can flag workers as available for jobs that fall outside their territories and/or working hours, and the system will assign workers to jobs that require them to work in their off hours and travel long distances to do so.

Each task and subtask has a target time based on "AI" predictions. These are classic examples of Goodhart's Law: "any metric eventually becomes a target." The average time that workers take becomes the maximum time that a worker is allowed to take. Some jobs are easy, and can be completed in less time than assigned. When this happens, the average time to do a job shrinks, and the time allotted for normal (or difficult) jobs contracts.

Bosses get stack-ranks of workers showing which workers closed the most tickets, worked the fastest, spent the least time idle between jobs, and, of course, whether the client gave them five stars. Workers know it, creating an impossible bind: to do the job well, in a friendly fashion, the worker has to take time to talk with the client, understand their needs, and do the job. Anything less will generate unfavorable reports from clients. But doing this will blow through time quotas, which produces bad reports from the bossware. Heads you lose, tails the boss wins.

Predictably, Microsoft has shoveled "AI" into every corner of this product. Bosses don't just get charts showing them which workers are "underperforming" – they also get summaries of all the narrative aspects of the workers' reports (e.g. "My client was in severe pain so I took extra time to make her comfortable before leaving"), filled with the usual hallucinations and other botshit.

No boss could exert this kind of fine-grained, soul-destroying control over any workforce, much less a workforce that is out in the field all day, without Microsoft's automation tools. Armed with Dynamics 365, a boss becomes a true centaur, capable of superhuman feats of labor abuse.

And when workers are subjected to Dynamics 365, they become true reverse-centaurs, driven by "digital whips" to work at a pace that outstrips the long-term capacity of their minds and bodies to bear it. The enthnographic parts of the report veer between chilling and heartbreaking.

Microsoft strenuously objects to this characterization, insisting that their tool (which they advise bosses to use to check on workers' location every 60-300 seconds) is not a "surveillance" tool, it's a "coordination" tool. They say that all the AI in the tool is "Responsible AI," which is doubtless a great comfort to workers.

In Microsoft's (mild) defense, they are not unique. Other reports in the series show how retail workers and hotel housekeepers are subjected to "despot on demand" services provided by Oracle:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/retail-hospitality

Call centers, are even worse. After all, most of this stuff started with call centers:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/callcenter

I've written about Arise, a predatory "work from home" company that targets Black women to pay the company to work for it (they also have to pay if they quit!). Of course, they can be fired at will:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/29/impunity-corrodes/#arise-ye-prisoners

There's also a report about Celonis, a giant German company no one has ever heard of, which gathers a truly nightmarish quantity of information about white-collar workers' activities, subjecting them to AI phrenology to judge their "emotional quality" as well as other metrics:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/processmining-algomanage

As Celonis shows, this stuff is coming for all of us. I've dubbed this process "the shitty technology adoption curve": the terrible things we do to prisoners, asylum seekers and people in mental institutions today gets repackaged tomorrow for students, parolees, Uber drivers and blue-collar workers. Then it works its way up the privilege gradient, until we're all being turned into reverse-centaurs under the "digital whip" of a centaur boss:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/25/the-peoples-amazon/#clippys-revenge

In mediating between asshole bosses and the workers they destroy, these bossware technologies do more than automate: they also insulate. Thanks to bossware, your boss doesn't have to look you in the eye (or come within range of your fists) to check in on you every 60 seconds and tell you that you've taken 11 seconds too long on a task. I recently learned a useful term for this: an "accountability sink," as described by Dan Davies in his new book, The Unaccountability Machine, which is high on my (very long) list of books to read:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/02/despotism-on-demand/#virtual-whips

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #bossware #surveillance #microsoft #gig work #reverse centaurs #labor #Wolfie Christl #cracked labs #data at work #AlgorithmWatch #Arbeiterkammer #austria #call centers #retail #dystopianism #torment nexus #shitty technology adoption curve

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not-terezi-pyrope · 5 months ago

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Content warning for speculation about hypothetical future scenarios of mass death and suffering

Been thinking about how repeating pattern in history seems to be that you can mark every era by its major international incidents, conflicts and disasters, singular in their impact but which nonetheless seem to happen at least once every few decades ago. I see no reason to suspect that this has for any reason stopped being true, and I am fascinated by speculating about what our future history might be, so as a slightly morbid thought exercise;

Which of these hypothetical international incidents/disasters would you believe most plausible or likely to occur in the next 50 years?

Disclaimer; these scenarios will share my western cultural perspective bias

(Reblog if you vote, as sad as it may be to contemplate future suffering I'm interested in where most people's reads are on this sort of thing)

#not-terezi-speaks #death cw #genocide cw #disease cw #war cw

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lets-try-some-writing · 7 months ago

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A Cycle Unending: Snippet #1

The Matrix must have something to fuel it as it empowers its bearer. A strong frame or a powerful spark.

Orion Pax had neither of these when he took it, and his life became limited. Thus, to ensure that the Autobots would not be destroyed in his absence, he created a means to continue on, if only in spirit.

(I be thinking up more angst. Don't judge me its almost finals I'm stressed.)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━

[PRIME-0]

To take the Matrix was an honor. That was what the priests told him.

Orion believed them. Optimus did as well.

“You will not last long. Your frame was too weak to accept this burden.” Alpha Trion stood by his side, holding Optimus’s shaking servos. The Master Archivist was right. Looking at his frame it was clear he did not have much time left. The Matrix was sucking him dry, ripping away vitality and youth with a viciousness that was not intended.

The relic needed a strong frame or a strong spark to fuel it. Optimus had neither. When he took the relic, his body was beaten from the first fires of war and his spark was weary from so many sorrows. There was nothing for the Matrix to consume, and thus it was beginning to devour him. Optimus could tell it did not want to, the relic almost seemed to weep as it worked.

But there was always a cost for power. And this… This was the consequence of his decision to accept the gift Primus bestowed.

“How long do you believe I have?” Optimus’s voice rumbled, deep, gruff, and worn. Over the course of a mere few stellar cycles, he had aged exponentially. Taking the Matrix left him spry and willing to take on the world at first. But with time, that strength faded into cold and uncaring wisdom that spoke of a grim truth.

He was going to die soon.

“A few stellar cycles at most. Your frame was only strong enough to withstand it for a vorn, and half that time has already passed.” Optimus bit his lower derma, anger and anguish building up in his vocalizer in a pained cry he refused to voice. The Matrix was too much, too powerful for his spark and frame to handle. It would bleed him until he had nothing to give and his people would have no one to lead them. Megatron would rule their world, and countless innocents would perish in his rage. It could not be allowed. Optimus could not leave his people so soon.

“I will not abandon my people. I will not leave them without a leader.” He spoke with conviction, his mind already running through any possibility that yet remained. He doubted he could preserve his life, but perhaps he could find a way to ensure his people endured.

“You won’t. There may yet be a way to ensure Cybertron always has a Prime to guard it.” Alpha Trion’s rumbling voice washed over him, soothing Optimus’s turbulent thoughts. If Alpha Trion believed there was a way, then Optimus was inclined to believe him. His master had not been wrong yet.

“What must I do to ensure this?” He could feel creases under his optics shift as he looked up at his mentor. He had not been marked by such things before. Age was catching up to him so quickly that he hardly had time to process it. There was not a single moment to waste.

“Come with me. We shall begin work immediately.” Alpha Trion pulled on his servos lightly, his field wide and almost desperate. Optimus vented deeply and nodded. Whatever was to come needed to be completed quickly. He could feel his strength fade with every passing cycle.

Time was not on his side.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You are sure this will work?” Optimus adjusted his glasses as he leaned on his cane. His vents came in tortured rasps, age having taken its toll. He could hardly see even with his glasses, but he still understood what he was looking at.

“Yes. The cycle has been completely automated. As long as those who come after you contribute what is required of them, there will always be one to carry the mantle.” Optimus nodded as he sensed Alpha Trion begin to shift away. A young life flared within his spark chamber, one he had been cultivating for the last few stellar cycles he had left. It had no other parent. The newspark was a piece of him and him alone.

For that reason, it would be weak. But because it was of him, it would be accepted by the relic he bore.

“Will they live longer than me?” He voiced his burning question, sorrow growing deep within him as he felt the newspark in his frame shift and flare. No one deserved this fate… but it was better that one line carry the burden rather than leave a whole world hanging by a thread, hoping one of their Primes would be worthy.

“No. Their frames will be stronger, but without an additional contribution of CNA, their sparks will not have the fortitude to withstand the Matrix for much longer than you.” A shaky vent escaped him as Optimus stepped forward and placed his servo on the glass of the tank in front of him. He hated that this was the fate he had condemned his line to. But who else would be able to shoulder the burden? Who else would have the knowledge and the wisdom to fight against Megatron effectively?

It had to be him. There was no other choice.

“Will they care for my loved ones as I do?” Worry grew within him as he thought about all those that he would be leaving behind. Elita-One, his dear Conjunx, would be without him soon enough. How long had it been since he’d seen her? He honestly couldn’t remember. Once he knew what the Matrix was doing to him, he pulled away from everyone. He didn’t want them to see him as he fell apart.

Ratchet, Jazz, Prowl, Ultra Magnus, Ironhide, Springer, Kup, Blaster… how many others would suffer in his absence? Would they even know he was gone when all was said and done?

Was it really worth it?

“They will be perfect copies in frame and memory, but every spark is unique, even ones split from a singular source.” Optimus sighed as he registered the answer given. There was no assurance that those who came after him would care for his loved ones as he did.

Yet another cost he had to pay for their people’s salvation.

“I understand.” His voice echoed in the cold underground lab. He dreaded the feeling of loneliness those who came after him would experience. Forged into such a clinical and lifeless place… it was horrific. Still, it was the only way to keep them safe until they could take up their inherited function.

Slag, he really was just as bad as the Council. Here he was, deciding the future of countless sparks, giving them a function they may or may not despise and predetermining their entire lives. How cruel he was…

“I’m so sorry. To all those who come after me, I pray that you may find it in your sparks to forgive me.” He leaned against the glass of the pod, tears gathering in his optics as he felt the newspark within him flutter in concern. It would not be long now. Soon, the cycle would begin.

He could only pray that it would have an end.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

[PRIME-1]

From the moment he opened his optics for the first time, Optimus saw the world differently.

He didn’t notice much at first. His inherited memory guided him into integrating into normal life perfectly. There was work to be done and he was young and excitable. He wanted nothing more than to live each cycle to the fullest and end the war as soon as possible. That was his design, and the memory left to him told him as such.

It felt so close to him. For in his optics, each cycle had the weight of an entire millennia. To his young mind, all he had to do was speak to Megatron and things would work themselves out. The original knew Megatron, and he was sure his inherited memory would afford him the diplomatic power he needed. He did not realize how different he was when he saw how deep the grudges between Cybertron’s citizens ran.

He learned he saw things differently when he looked at his fellows. They felt almost alien to him at times with how distant everything seemed for them. Ratchet would easily devote whole stellar cycles of his life to a single project or thought without hesitation simply because the time meant nothing to him. Jazz would wait in solitary positions or live undercover for vorns at a time when required, never flinching or hesitating. Optimus could hardly comprehend that level of dedication.

Blaster would put his very spark into communications and song, entire deca-cycles lost in a blur of rhythm and composition. Prowl would live and breathe his office and the work therein, never so much as stepping out unless summoned. Optimus did not doubt the officer would remain in his office for entire millennia if left to his own devices. Even Ultra Magnus’s actions left Optimus reeling. He could barely comprehend the level of dedication the commander put into filing and keeping things organized.

The things they saw as so minor, so very miniscule… Those things accounted for almost the entirety of Optimus’s lifespan. It was impossible for him to view the world as they did. Time was a precious thing for him, and every decision he made was all the greater because of it. He knew his time was limited, and so he did everything in his power to make the most of it. His fellows did not understand when he threw himself into battle to plead with Megatron, using the memories he was gifted to speak reason. There was no way they could comprehend how much it hurt him when he failed to succeed in his mission.

All those around him operated on such grand scales. They couldn’t understand why Optimus tried to move so quickly, why he pushed for offensive strikes and peace talks one after another without end. They tried to tell him to stop, to bide his time.

He couldn’t afford to do that. Six stellar cycles was all it took for his youth to have run its course.

His limbs began to lose their strength, his enthusiasm dimmed and quieted. As age began to creep upon him, he looked upon his creased face and began to understand. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t angry. He was content in his life running its natural course. His fellows would be horrified if they aged so rapidly, but they saw the world in millennia. Optimus viewed it all in cycles, each just as important as the last.

His time for proactive action was over. His duty was to ensure that everything stayed in one piece until it was time for the next one to take his place. His life had not been without meaning. He had gathered knowledge, and with his knowledge, the one who came after him would know better than to waste his limited life trying to speak to Megatron the way Optimus had.

He knew when the time was right. The cycle he found himself unable to walk without pain, he smiled in contentment and bid his inner circle farewell. He walked the same path he followed when he was freshly forged. Now world weary and aged, he entered the place he was created and collected one of the many datapads lining the walls. It was empty. They all were. Each was to be a record, a comprehensive collection to be consulted when the memory of the dead was too great to bear.

He settled in the only chair in the clinical space and wrote of his experiences. It was pleasant, a final farewell in a sense. His life had been short, but it had not been without meaning. He was the first, it was to be expected that he would fail.

As he finished his writing and put the pad away, he vented deeply. Part of him wanted to be afraid as he stepped into the pod that had given him life. But as liquid rose and his consciousness faded, he found himself content.

The cycle would continue.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

[PRIME-5]

Optimus had known it was going to happen eventually. Those who came before him tended to spend their final cycles concerned, worried that this exact scene would play out for them or their successor. Up until his life, there had been no need to really think about it. All of the friends the original made became their friends as well. There was nothing strange. It simply was. Even the lingering fear of connections the original held becoming problematic wasn’t much of a concern since most were scattered across the planet.

But of course, being the fifth, it seemed he was the unlucky mech who needed to face the Conjunx of Orion Pax.

“You aren’t him.” Elita-One stared him down with a stoic expression. Her field was held close and her optics flared with grief. Optimus didn’t even bother to lie. The memory he held told him it was a waste of effort.

“I felt our bond shatter into a million pieces five vorns ago.” Her servos clenched into fists and her frame shook as she tried in vain to remain composed. Optimus held no affection for the femme before him, but the original had loved her dearly enough to send her away as he faded. Optimus would not dare disrespect ties made long before his forging.

“And yet here you are. A perfect copy.” Her voice dipped into a sob, anguish building in her field in stuttered bursts. She was hurting despite how long it had been since the original passed away. Optimus’s fellows really did see things so very differently. What was five generations old to Optimus was a fresh wound to the femme before him.

“Tell me. How are you here? How is it that you bear his name and his face?” Elita’s lower derma wobbled as she gazed up at him, hope and anguish mixed into something so powerful Optimus almost wanted to weep alongside her. What was he to say? What would ease her pain?

There wasn’t anything he could do. The original was long dead, and Optimus was one of many.

“The Matrix was too powerful for him to carry. It is too great for all of our number.” The femme paused, watching as Optimus knelt down lower, showing her his face. Her expression fell as she saw him, understanding beginning to dawn in her optics.

“Someone had to carry this burden. And so he and all those who have and will come after him are given this great mantle.” Elita touched his face, her digits running along the creases that were already forming. Optimus was six stellar cycles of age, and with his prime behind him, he was beginning to deteriorate.

“We do not live long, but I and those who come after me will do everything in our power to fill the void he left behind with the vorn we are afforded.” Tears fell from Elita’s optics. Optimus smiled gently. He felt nothing for this femme, he could not be the mech she wanted. But he could be a friend, a companion until his time came and his successor would have to take up the mantle.

“This was the choice he made. We are products of his love for you and all of Cybertron. And so, until this world no longer needs a Prime, we shall use what little time we have to make things better.” He brought Elita into a hug, memory guiding him as he did so. Elita enjoyed tender touch, even if it came from one who was not her Conjunx.

“I am sorry I cannot give you the love you have lost… But if you would let us, we would be your companion until this cycle ends.” Elita sobbed and Optimus rubbed soothing circles onto her back. She was not his Conjunx, but she was part of his duty.

“I will stay with you until my time comes. Then, those who come after me shall take my place.” He spoke softly, allowing Elita to cry. She wept bitterly, cursing and hissing at the original until she could give nothing more. Optimus held her through it, a soft song escaping his vocalizer.

His life had no success when it came to ending the war. But a wound was healed, and his interactions with Elita-One lived in his memory as a beacon of hope. Stellar cycles passed, and when the time came for him to traverse the long path back to his birthplace…

He did not walk alone.

“Thank you for everything.” His murmur was lost as he entered the pod, the newspark that would take his place fluttering in his chassis. The last face he saw was Elita-One’s, and he took pride in knowing that she was able to smile as the liquid of the pod engulfed him.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #elita one #alternate universe #lots of angst #clones #the matrix of leadership #orion pax #yeah this was a wild idea but I feel like sharing #lots more to write but for now enjoy

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b7ngt4n · 11 months ago

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The Last Remaining | Part 01

-> South Korea was left abandoned after a 'zombie' virus sweeps the nation. Left to save themselves, Y/N and a group of seven men, who she's found safety in, rely on each other to stay alive as they travel south of the country for a rumoured 'z-free' haven. But nothing is ever easy. Especially when they find it's not only just zombies they need to watch their backs for.

-> A female reader x BTS zombie apocalypse AU

-> Genre: Post-apocalyptic, action

-> Warnings for Part 1: Violence, gore, swearing

-> Word count: 2,071 words

-> Interactions are greatly appreciated xoxo 💖

Part 01: A Month Ago 🧟

A month ago, the nation of South Korea fell to its knees. A deadly virus swept through the country, killing every human it came in contact with and mutating them into flesh-fiending, viciously-violent creatures, fictionally known as zombies.

The outbreak spread fast through Seoul, turning half of the civilians here into zombies within 24 hours. Rumours were that outbreaks happened in Busan, Gwangju, and Daegu before the Seoul outbreak even started. Everything happened within a matter of hours. Nobody had any time to react, you had to fight for your life within the blink of an eye. Even the government was left dumbfounded.

They deployed military power to try and control the outbreaks. However, the number of zombies soon outnumbered the number of military personnel. Eventually, there was no stopping the virus as it just grew out of control.

It was too late for the government to issue martial law. They knew there was no use putting up a fight they knew they couldn't win. Instead they moved onto plan B: evacuation. Your TV was only able to play a singular automated voice message that repeated, 'All of South Korea is currently being affected by the 'Zombie' virus. The government advises you to stay indoors and wait for evacuation processes to be initiated.' And by evacuation, you heard they evacuated the entire Blue House, the closest schools, and the closest retirement villages. You watched choppers fly from Incheon, none of which you saw ever once stopped to evacuate other buildings. That's when you knew the government was absolute bullshit. They didn't bother to try save anyone else. They didn't want to risk it.

You heard the evacuation camp was set up somewhere in Incheon, which made sense because of the helicopters. But you later heard the camp was overridden by the virus only three days later. You never heard choppers flying around ever again. With no government left to guide you, all hope for survival was lost. A week later, the power in your complex stopped running. Matter of fact, you're sure the power for the entire city stopped. Phones stopped working a day after the outbreak so you couldn't call for help. And with food in your apartment running low, you knew your survival rate was plummeting lower by the day.

You were lucky that you only lived on the 5th floor. You had been watching the streets closely the past month. It used to be very busy with screams, growls, tyre screeches, and running footsteps. You even used to be able to hear zombie groans at night. But recently you noticed how quiet it has been. You see a zombie slowly roaming around every now and then but you haven't seen many alive humans. You wonder if everyone else had just left while they could. The more you think about leaving, the more you think 'fuck it, let's do it'. Could it be worse out there? Absolutely. But would you rather die from starvation or die trying to survive?

There was a convenience store just a street down. If you were lucky, you could make it there and hopefully there would be food waiting for you. You just had to be quick. You could do that. You used to be in the track team in high school and a regular gym goer. You can be quick.

"This should be a piece of cake," you encouraged yourself, but the entire time you were screaming at yourself 'what the fuck are you doing?' Only you were hunger-driven enough to go out into a bloody zombie apocalypse to get cup noodles.

You changed into a zip up hoodie and a pair of gym tights, tying your hair into a low ponytail and lacing up in running shoes. You put on your old elbow pads and knee pads from when you were in your rollerblading phase for protection. You also tucked away a pocket knife in your bra. As you were sliding your backpack on, you started having second thoughts. Was this really worth it? Would you really risk dying out there rather than safely at the comfort of your own home? Your life was in your hands but it seemed that any choice you would make could have you dead. You had to at least try. You believed in yourself, you believed you could get there if you tried hard enough. Gripping a baseball bat in one hand and the door knob in the other, you took a deep breath. Carefully unlocking the door, you opened it a small inch, enough for you to peek an eye out into the lobby. It was empty to your relief. You didn't hesitate to make a move, locking your apartment and bidding it a sad farewell.

You jumped to find a zombie lurking around the elevator lobby. It turned around the moment it heard your footsteps, snarling loudly at you. You recognised it to be Mrs Lim, a sweet elderly woman who lived next door to you. You would watch her cats for her whenever she went out of town to visit her daughter. Your heart broke to see her once-white skin drained of colour, her eyes not the usual dark brown but a mustard yellow, and her teeth was covered in dry blood. You didn't have any time to decide what to do about her as she came charging toward you.

"Why does the first zombie I come across have to be you Mrs Lim!" you protested as you held the baseball bat horizontally, keeping a distance between you and her. She was strong for an old lady, well half old lady half zombie, but strong enough to have you sliding back on the tiles. You noticed down the lobby on the other side of the complex were a couple other zombies. They had already noticed you and were rushing towards you.

"Shit!" you cursed, "sorry Mrs Lim," you quickly apologised before kicking her as hard as you could in the stomach. She groaned, stumbling backwards, tripping over her own feet, and falling to the ground. You didn't waste time, opening the door to the stairwell and making sure to lock it behind you.

There were no zombies in the staircase. Though the apartment did feel different without the lights on. You couldn't imagine how much of a struggle it'd be to do this at night without the power working. You had to make sure you were back home at least before the sun set.

A few zombies filled the entrance lobby. You instantly recognised one of them to be another resident who you saw around often and another one of them to be a security guard. You noticed a taser in his holster, something you deemed could be useful to you. They all turned around the moment you opened the door and came rushing towards you. You hit them in the heads with the bat as hard as you could, occasionally using your foot to kick them back whenever they got too close. They all fell to the floor after a good fight from you. You mutter a sorry to them and took the opportunity to steal the security guard's taser and tuck it safely away in your bag, whispering your extra apologies to him.

You hadn't been outside in a month. It felt weird to be back all of a sudden at a place you used to come through everyday. Blood that was smeared on the glass doors made you cringe. You checked the coast. All you could see was the apartment's front garden and the street through the gates. So far, everything was zombie-free. But you don't let your guard down just yet.

Drops of old blood stained the pavement. What was once a nice garden now looks outgrown and somewhat sat on. You could smell the faint stench of dried blood and what you assumed was the smell of dead flesh. The entrance water fountain you thought was so pretty was no longer squirting out water and the water was coloured red. 'Gross' you thought to yourself.

The street was nothing different. Cars were littered all over the place, some had actually looked like they crashed into poles, some were also open. You wondered for a second if you could check the ones that were open out but you also did fear it was only a matter of time before a zombie found you. One car you passed had crashed into a light pole and inside laid a dead rotten woman in the drivers seat. You would have never seen stuff like this before the outbreak. You feel sad for that lady. Who knows how long she had been sitting there? And who knows how much longer she'll be left like that?

Loud snarls made you stop in your tracks. You pressed your back against the concrete wall and peeked slowly around the corner. A quick count of at least 7 zombies were within a 20 metre radius. They blocked the entrance to the convenience store. There were bound to be more too, ones that were hidden in your blind spots. There was no way you could take on all of them.

You noticed a half empty water bottle lying on the floor. Then you had an idea. You snatched it up, crawling behind cars to get closer to the herd without getting spotted. The sounds of their groans terrified you as it grew louder the closer you got. You chucked the water bottle the opposite way as far as you could. It landed on the bumper of a car, sounding its alarm. The loud horn attracted the zombies instantly. They turned around, racing to the source of the sound snarling loudly at it. It was loud enough to probably attract every zombie within a 100 metre radius which would definitely be more zombies than you can handle. But at least you got them distracted. As soon as the coast was clear, you dashed towards the convenience store. Luckily it was unlocked.

The store was a mess. Products littered the ground but the store would was at least half filled. You guess the store could've been looted a couple of times but it's likely this mess was caused the day of the outbreak. You noticed it was also quiet. No snarls, no groans. That was a good sign. You felt a little at ease.

Canned soup, instant noodles, granola bars, biscuits, water bottles. All the foods you have been craving were here in this very room. You have been longing for this moment. You shoved whatever wasn't expired and would likely last a long time into your bag. You noticed your favourite flavour of Doritos 'Sweet Thai Chilli' sitting on the shelf, untouched and not expired yet. You didn't wait to eat these back at home and decided to open one now, your stomach grumbling at the sight. You walked down the aisles like you used to late at night before. It felt wrong to be looting and in a way stealing. You were friends with the owners, a nice old couple ran the store with the occasional help from their daughter. It felt wrong to steal from them. But then again, it was the apocalypse.

Just as you turned down into the end aisle alongside all the freezers of frozen food and cold drinks, a zombie jumped out from the corner, taking you by surprise.

You yelped, flinging the Doritos out your hands by accident. Just in time, you managed to wedge the baseball bat between its teeth, keeping it from biting you. But it was way stronger than you, quickly trapping you between a freezer and itself. You tried to kick your feet at it but it was difficult in the position you were in. The more you tried, the more stronger it pushed against your bat, closing the threatening distance between you both.

You heard the stabbing sound before the zombie stopped moving. A knife had been plunged through the back of its head. The sharp tip stuck out through its forehead, nearly knocking you in the process. You heaved its heavy body off of you to reveal a muscular, middle-aged, man standing behind it. Behind him was a skinnier but taller and younger man. You assumed the two to be friends.

"Thank you" you breathed out, all your energy gone as you lean against the freezer to catch your breath.

The middle-aged man chuckled, an eerie smile that gave you chills appearing on his face, "Anytime sweetheart."

His smile was the last thing you saw before you felt a bash to the head and your world went dark.

(a/n: forgive me ik! "no bts in the first chapter?" "what a shit fucking story!" i know i know 😔😔 i promise it’s development 🙏🙏 appearances begin in the nxt chapter)

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bamsara · 2 years ago

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would anyone be interested in an art stream where I just draw and talk about my ocs and books being:

the three idiots in a world with systematic oppression based on magical vs non-magical blood going on an adventure to find a missing person (Pheobe's dad Edmund) where Miles (magical) has to arrest Edmund from defecting from the magical army but doesn't know his location so uses Pheobe to find him, Lewis (sus non-magical) is coming along because even though he should be arrested he can potentially be pardoned for his crimes for assisting, and Pheobe (non-magical) just wants to find her dad and the three of them end up getting twisted up in a plot to resurrect an eldritch god

Eve and Maddie are besties in college but Eve is a vampire and Maddie has no idea because vampires and werewolves and other supernatural beings are just common in the world but not known to humans because they dont exactly fit the myths that the world has strewn about them and they go on cryptid hunting adventures together and there's gay tension but also there's a couple of murders happening around town that starts to reveal the world of the supernatural to Maddie which makes her a target

The story of an abused girl running away from home set in a dystopia/futuristic setting where automations and humans are commonplace but there's a societal divide and on the run she trips over a corpse in the snow but its not really a corpse but rather a war-machine robot that escaped from the facility it was being created/held who really has no sympathy or understanding of humanity and they end up traveling together on the run as fugitives because its easier to run away if you have the guise of a 'gaurdian' figure aka the robot for the child and for the robot everyone thinks he's a funny looking nanny bot or something so they become less suspisious and eventually found family happens

or the unnamed dnd kid that was abandoned as an infant, found and raised by goblins but that caused disruption so she was dropped off in a village a few years later in the hopes that a good human samaritan would take her in but no one did, so she became a street rat stealing and pickpocketing, later sneaking onto a ship to steal gold she eavesdropped was on there, but it undocks and she's found and it turns out the ship workers didn't work for the empire but actaully were undercover pirates and they debate on killing her but are uncomfortable with but cant let her go now that she knows so they take her in instead to make her pay off her dishoner, and the crew and captain become a psuedo crime family with her and she's taught langauge and healing from the captain and ect until one day years later; the ship is raided and she's knocked out and when she wakes up the crew is gone, no signs of how or where they went and she has to go on an investigative mission to find them

or the one where

bye hold on im realizing how many book wips i have

#sara shush #ramble #oc stuff #fuck fuck ufck k fucifm slkfls ksmf a auggggggggggh

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wolfliving · 1 year ago

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It starts with him

What was once a promise of technology to allow us to automate and analyze the environments in our physical spaces is now a heap of broken ideas and broken products. Technology products have been deployed en masse, our personal data collected and sold without our consent, and then abandoned as soon as companies strip mined all the profit they thought they could wring out. And why not? They already have our money.

The Philips Hue, poster child of the smart home, used to work entirely on your local network. After all, do you really need to connect to the Internet to control the lights in your own house? Well you do now!Philips has announced it will require cloud accounts for all users—including users who had already purchased the hardware thinking they wouldn’t need an account (and the inevitable security breaches that come with it) to use their lights.

Will you really trust any promises from a company that unilaterally forces a change like this on you? Does the user actually benefit from any of this?

Matter in its current version … doesn’t really help resolve the key issue of the smart home, namely that most companies view smart homes as a way to sell more individual devices and generate recurring revenue.

It keeps happening. Stuff you bought isn’t yours because the company you bought it from can take away features and force you to do things you don’t want or need to do—ultimately because they want to make more money off of you. It’s frustrating, it’s exhausting, and it’s discouraging.

And it has stopped IoT for the rest of us in its tracks. Industrial IoT is doing great—data collection is the point for the customer. But the consumer electronics business model does not mesh with the expected lifespan of home products, and so enshittification began as soon as those first warranties ran out.

How can we reset the expectations we have of connected devices, so that they are again worthy of our trust and money? Before we can bring the promise back, we must deweaponize the technology.

Guidelines for the hardware producer

What we can do as engineers and business owners is make sure the stuff we’re building can’t be wielded as a lever against our own customers, and to show consumers how things could be. These are things we want consumers to expect and demand of manufacturers.

Control

Think local

Decouple

Open interfaces

Be a good citizen

1) Control over firmware updates.

You scream, “What about security updates!” But a company taking away a feature you use or requiring personal data for no reason is arguably a security flaw.

We were once outraged when intangible software products went from something that remained unchanging on your computer, to a cloud service, with all the ephemerality that term promises. Now they’re coming for our tangible possessions.

No one should be able to do this with hardware that you own. Breaking functionality is entirely what security updates are supposed to prevent! A better checklist for firmware updates:

Allow users to control when and what updates they want to apply.

Be thorough and clear as to what the update does and provide the ability to downgrade if needed.

Separate security updates from feature additions or changes.

Never force an update unless you are sure you want to accept (financial) responsibility for whatever you inadvertently break.

Consider that you are sending software updates to other people’s hardware. Ask them for permission (which includes respecting “no”) before touching their stuff!

2) Do less on the Internet.

A large part of the security issues with IoT products stem from the Internet connectivity itself. Any server in the cloud has an attack surface, and now that means your physical devices do.

The solution here is “do less”. All functionality should be local-only unless it has a really good reason to use the Internet. Remotely controlling your lights while in your own house does not require the cloud and certainly does not require an account with your personal information attached to it. Limit the use of the cloud to only the functions that cannot work without it.

As a bonus, less networked functionality means fewer maintenance costs for you.

3) Decouple products and services.

It’s fine to need a cloud service. But making a product that requires a specific cloud service is a guarantee that it can be enshittified at any point later on, with no alternative for the user owner.

Design products to be able to interact with other servers. You have sold someone hardware and now they own it, not you. They have a right to keep using it even if you shut down or break your servers. Allow them the ability to point their devices to another service. If you want them to use your service, make it worthwhile enough for them to choose you.

Finally, if your product has a heavy reliance on the cloud to work, consider enabling your users to self-host their own cloud tooling if they so desire. A lot of people are perfectly capable of doing this on their own and can help others do the same.

4) Use open and standard protocols and interfaces.

Most networked devices have no reason to use proprietary protocols, interfaces, and data formats. There are open standards with communities and software available for almost anything you could want to do. Re-inventing the wheel just wastes resources and makes it harder for users to keep using their stuff after you’re long gone. We did this with Twine, creating an encrypted protocol that minimized chatter, because we needed to squeeze battery life out of WiFi back when there weren’t good options.

If you do have a need for a proprietary protocol (and there are valid reasons to do so):

Document it.

If possible, have a fallback option that uses an open standard.

Provide tooling and software to interact with your custom protocols, at the very least enough for open source developers to be able to work with it. This goes for physical interfaces as much as it does for cloud protocols.

If the interface requires a custom-made, expensive, and/or hard-to-find tool to use, then consider using something else that is commonly available and off the shelf instead.

5) Be a good citizen.

Breaking paid-for functionality on other people’s stuff is inherently unethical. Consider not doing this! Enshittification is not a technical problem, it is a behavioral one. Offer better products that are designed to resist enshittification, and resist it yourself in everything you do.

Nothing forced Philips to do what they are doing: a human made a decision to do it. They could have just as easily chosen not to. With Twine’s server lock-in, at least we chose to keep it running, for 12 years now. Consider that you can still make a decent living by being honest and ethical towards the people who are, by purchasing your products, paying for your lifestyle.

We didn’t get here by accident. Humans made choices that brought us to this point, and we can’t blame anyone for being turned off by it. But we can choose to do better. We can design better stuff. And we can choose not to mess things up after the fact.

We’re putting this into practice with Pickup. (We also think that part of an IoT reset is giving users the creative freedom of a general-purpose device.) If you’re looking for something better and our product can fill a need you have, consider backing us. We cannot claim to be perfect or have all of the answers, but we are absolutely going to try. The status quo sucks. Let’s do something about it.

Published October 15, 2023 By Jeremy Billheimer

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