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cherrrydragon · 6 months ago

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➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER FOUR: WAY DOWN WE GO

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SUMMARY ↳ You make some major moves, risky major moves. “Yeah, I know. You’re not that easy.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and grasp his, lifting them off your hips. “Just like I know you’re trying to put a tracker on me.” You wretch the little device from his hands and crush it. “I’m not that easy either.��You pat his cheek. His expression doesn’t give anything away, but you know he’s annoyed his plans have been thwarted. “It was a good try though. You did your best.” You send a web to a nearby building, knowing that his eyes are scanning you to drink up every piece of information he can. You turn to him one last time before swinging away. “I’m just better.” pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: (attempted) bullying, you get a sword held at your neck (wonder whose fault that is), cursing wc: 6.5k

The next school day goes by in a blur of lectures you don’t pay attention to. The only thing on your mind is patrol and the looming task of getting back home.

Lunch is a brief respite from the busyness of the day. You sit alone to better hear your thoughts. You’ve long gotten used to your super hearing, but it’s still as loud as ever. The lunch is pretty good today, yet no match for your increased metabolism. You’re just grateful that your suit protects you from a lot. Super healing isn’t that useful when you’ve got no energy to heal with.

Your pencil moves in repeated strokes, steady. You’ve been putting your sketchbook to good use.

You hear footsteps approaching, and raise your head casually. You can’t help but widen your eyes when you see Damian walking to you.

He puts his tray down and sits, perfect posture and all. His eyes scan your drawings. “What is it?”

You blink, looking down at your drawings too. “It’s a… personal project.” You give your best winning smile. “I like to make things.”

You subtly turn the page so the one with all the formulas and equations is hidden away, only allowing Damian to see the sketches of what your new and improved nanite chamber would look like. “You’re hurting my feelings. What can I do to gain your trust?” It’s no subtle attempt to direct his attention from your drawings.

“Unnecessary. Forget about yesterday, it is in the past,” Damian says. Yeah, right. It’s obvious he’s playing nice in an attempt to lower your guard, but whatever. You can play along.

You pat his shoulder, smiling at his grimace. “You’re really bad at making friends. Don’t worry about it, first impressions aren’t everything.”

You lean back, crossing your arms. “So, now that we’re friends, tell me about yourself.”

“We are not friends.”

“We’re not enemies either.”

“That does not equate to us being friends,” he growls.

“But don’t you wanna know about me?” You lean in close. “Y’know, ‘cause you’re–” Your voice drops into a whisper. “Robin?”

He shoves you away, somehow in a gentlemanly manner. “Do not joke about that.”

You cackle. “I will tell you something about me in exchange for something about you.” At his glare you say, “it’s the fair thing to do.”

“I’ll go first.” You sit up straight. “I work part-time at Carrie’s Cafe, I live in East End and I occasionally dabble in photography.” Where you work and live is something he no doubt knows already, and photography is a useless fact. Still, he can’t admit that.

You gesture at him. “Your turn.”

You’re pleasantly surprised when he speaks. “I enjoy spending time with animals. I have various pets.”

“What kind of pets?”

“The rules of our deal do not require me to elaborate further.”

You roll your eyes. “The rules of conversation do.”

“I hardly want to converse with you.” God, you forgot how much of a brat Damian is. It’s easier to find it funny when you’re not the subject of his brat-ness. He can tell you’re getting a bit irked, if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

You survey your surroundings. People are looking at the two of you. You figure you must be a sight. The elusive heir of Bruce Wayne and the new kid. There’s a group of girls staring at you spitefully.

“Aren’t we a pair,” you speak to Damian, not taking your eyes off the girls. “Me, awesome mysterious super hot new kid, and you.” You don’t gas up Damian, but you figure he’s better off without a bigger ego.

Damian looks to where you're staring, his lips turning in thinly veiled disgust. “We are not a pair.” The girls giggle behind their hands and flutter their eyelashes at him. He looks away. You gasp as you are hit with an idea.

“I just had the best idea ever.” Pointedly ignoring his hum of doubt, you continue, “we are in the perfect set-up for a fake-dating situation. You, the popular bad boy who wants nothing to do with girls, and me, the one person who will never fall in love with you. We agree to fake-date to get the girls off your back, but we end up falling in love and we kiss in the rain–” you pause, staring at his face. It’s full of disgust, and you burst out laughing. “I’m afraid you’re too easy, my friend.”

Your hearing picks up on stomping from across the cafeteria. The leader of the girl's little posse is making her way over to you. She’s real pretty, you’ll give her that. She’s forgone the vest of her uniform to show off her slightly unbuttoned top. You’re not ashamed to admit you are looking hard .

“Damian!” She squeals, rounding up to your table. She ignores the seats and sits on the table itself. “Are they bothering you? I can see that you’re uncomfortable.”

You lean back and cross your arms, waiting to see what Damian will do. You would’ve thought he would be more of a recluse, liked by nobody. Perhaps this older Damian has more charm than the ones you’ve read about. Or maybe only the girls of the school like him.

Damian sends you a look that says do not leave me to the vultures.

You raise your eyebrows as if to say not friends, remember? This has nothing to do with me.

“Victoria,” Damian greets. Victoria’s face lights up in satisfaction at the fact he knows her name. Oof, girl, have some standards. “I am fine. You need not concern yourself.”

“Oh, but I can see it on your face, Damian. You don’t have to save face for someone like them ,” Victoria looks you up and down. There’s no doubt she means to isolate you because you’re not a rich heir like the rest of them.

Damian’s about to speak up (in your defense? You doubt it) when you lean forward, discreetly pulling down your own collar. “Victoria, was it? Can I call you Vicky? Where’d you get your nails done?”

Victoria brings her hands to her chest, rubbing her fingers over her nails. “Oh– um. My… cousin. My cousin does nails as a hobby.” Her eyes are flickering from your face to your chest. You reach forward and grab her hand delicately, humming as you look at her nails. “These look really good. How much were they?”

Your eyes are boring into hers as you await her answer. Her mouth is slightly agape. Her hand twitches in your grasp as you let a breath fall onto it. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before she finds herself. “It-It surely costs more than you can afford.” She yanks her hand back and it falls to her side. She looks at Damian before looking back at you, and turns around and walks off without another word.

A grin graces your face, satisfied with your results. Looking at Damian, you raise your brow in question. “Well? How’d I do?”

Damian is staring at you, like he is truly seeing you for the first time. He blinks and shakes himself out of whatever revelry he’s in (you hope you haven’t given too much away…) and answers you. “It’s no easy feat repelling Victoria. I commend you.”

“Is that a compliment? Oh my God, have I thawed your frozen heart, Elsa?” The bell rings and he walks away before you can say more.

You find out Victoria's in your ballet class. You feel her eyes on you the whole period.

You practice figure drawing in art. You ignore Damian’s stare on you the whole period.

It’s a cool night in Gotham. You’ve defended some homeless people being harassed, helped someone's cat out of a tree (you didn’t know that could actually happen) and helped an old lady home safely. It’s a pretty quiet night for Gotham, all things considered. The city moves on in spite of you, a maze of crime and corruption, but also of people worth saving.

You can’t help yourself and snap a couple of photos, for your eyes only. Anything that’ll make you feel like back home is good in your books.

watching behind you

You stand, straightening your shoulders. You’re sure the Bats know about your existence. Whoever it is, you’ll give them a scare first.

You lift your foot, letting it dangle off the ledge of the building. Their footsteps hasten to get to you. Gravity pulls you down. They’re running to you now. You spread your arms and fall.

A figure clad in black and red grasps the ledge, looking over, grappling hook in hand. They’re met with you, casually standing on the side of the building, defying gravity. “Looking for me?”

Robin makes room for you as you climb back up, crouching on the ledge once more. You stick out your hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet one of you guys. Big fan.”

Robin takes out his sword and holds it to your neck in one swift movement. “Tough crowd,” you mutter, clicking your tongue.

“Who are you and what business do you have in Gotham.” Straight to the point as always, Damian.

“My name is Spinnerette, nice to meet you!” You grab his hand before he can tug it out of your reach, shaking it. “And I thought it was pretty obvious, no? I’m in the saving people business, like you guys! That’s my business.”

“Children should not run around pretending to fight crime because they think it’s cool.”\

You huff. “Okay, one , the first robin was like, five. Two , how old do you think I am? Three , dude, I’ve been doing this for years.”

He tuts. “Is that right? How come I’ve never heard of you?”

You shrug. “I’m not from around here.” You’re not lying, that’s for sure.

The sword doesn’t move from your neck, and you sigh. Grabbing the sword makes an audible clink as it meets the metal of your suit. You slowly move it away from your neck, taking note of how Robin tries to meet your strength head-on, and failing to do so. Languidly moving, you invade his personal space. You throw your arms over his shoulders, making him sway side to side with you.

“You’re hurting my feelings, Rob,” you hum. You see his eyes squint through his mask. Dragging a claw down his cheek, you’re aware that you are completely indulging yourself right now. You should’ve swung away as soon as your senses alerted you to his presence.

Pretender, your brain whispers to you.

You will the thought away. “You know, some species of spiders eat birds,” you flirt.

“You have abhorrent ideas of flirting.”

“Cut me some slack, I’m rusty.”

“Some species also eat their mates,” he flirts back. Oh?

You grin, feral and hidden. “Ohoh, considering yourself my mate already, birdie?” His hands grasp your hips, pulling you closer. Chest to chest with him, you lean in, whispering “you like the idea of me eating you? Perv.”

“You jump to conclusions.” His cheek is against yours.

“Yeah, I know. You’re not that easy.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and grasp his, lifting them off your hips. “Just like I know you’re trying to put a tracker on me.” You wretch the little device from his hands and crush it. “I’m not that easy either.”

You pat his cheek. His expression doesn’t give anything away, but you know he’s annoyed his plans have been thwarted. “It was a good try though. You did your best.”

You send a web to a nearby building, knowing that his eyes are scanning you to drink up every piece of information he can. You turn to him one last time before swinging away.

“I’m just better.”

“They call themselves Spinnerette,” is what Damian says as he enters the Batcave.

Bruce only sighs. He really shouldn’t be so surprised Damian went after the new meta. He turns around in his chair, facing Damian. He makes a ‘go on’ gesture.

“Their suit is made of some kind of metal. It is high-grade, something I’m not familiar with. The eyes of their suit react, like they mimic their expression. They can stick to walls and webs come out from a device on their wrist. They are intelligent and were able to divert my intentions to put a tracker on them,” Damian huffs.

He moves to stand next to his father. “They say they have been acting as a vigilante for years. They are also not native to Gotham.”

Bruce nods, “that narrows it down a little.”

“They were insulted by my insinuation that they were a child, so I assume they are at least in high school.”

Bruce types all the information in the Batcomputer, fingers flying across the keyboard. The results narrow down. Several databases appear on screen.

“If they are your age they could very well attend the Academy,” Bruce hums, hand over his mouth in thought.

“I have someone in mind already, but I will be sure to evaluate all my peers.”

Bruce smiles. “I’m surprised to hear you call them your peers.”

Damian’s lips twitch, walking out of the cave without further word.

You’ve decided to put plans for the nanite chamber on hold for now in exchange for a far, more efficient use of your time. The battery will last you, you’re just being paranoid.

You’re going to pull a Tony Stark and create a new element.

Technically you’re just going to use the blueprints Tony put in your suit (thank you tony, we all say in unison) and follow them, but in this universe badassium isn’t a thing.

A clean and powerful energy source, to power your way back home and for the world to use. You know what they say about leaving things better than when you found it.

You’ve changed your plans for one main reason; when Tony Stark made his new element, he also made a particle accelerator.

It starts in your engineering class. You swipe as much material as you can, stuffing it into your backpack. Tony’s makeshift build took up his whole lab, and the one you found that landed you here was huge, so you’ll grab as much as you can.

Next is finding a place to work. Your apartment is a no-go, so you spend time off patrol to look for places. An abandoned warehouse could work in theory, but how many times has a villain used one for their operations? You’ll go without bumping into the Joker, thank you.

The problem is that you don’t know this city, so you make an impulsive decision. During classes, you spend time building a mini robot that will infiltrate and access the Batcomputer. You know Wayne Manor is equipped with state-of-the-art security, from reinforced structures to advanced alarm systems. It is very likely your little buddy will not make it out, but Karen only needs enough time to upload to the computer.

You spend your programming class calibrating Karen into W.E.B.B.E.R. (Karen comes up with the acronym, it stands for Wireless Enabled Bionic Bot for Exploration and Reconnaissance) instead of doing the assignment. You can easily do it later. If Damian notices how in your mind you’ve been lately, he doesn’t say anything. WEBBER is finished in three days. Now it’s up to you to get it past Wayne Manor's defenses and into the batcave.

You sit pondering on a rooftop during patrol. Damian is a hesitant option. You’re are certain he’ll notice if you stick a little spider robot on him. Red Hood probably doesn’t visit very often, for obvious reasons. You might be able to sneak it past Nightwing, but there aren't many places on that skin-tight suit for WEB to hide. Orphan is a hard no, nothing gets past Cassandra Cain. You groan into your hands. WEB’s little feet pat your mask.

“Perhaps it would be easier to infiltrate myself,” Karen suggests.

“There’s no way to get into the cave without authorized access, and that's if WEB isn’t somehow destroyed as soon as it hits the property’s soil,” you sigh. “You could override its systems to get inside, but that’ll just put everyone on high alert.”

“Then perhaps we approach their civilian identities.” Karen pulls up security footage of a cafe that none other than Tim Drake likes to frequent. It’ll be risky, since Drake’s got a damn good keen eye. However, you’ll bank on the fact that that guy does not get as much sleep as he should, thus making him less aware.

“Thanks, K.” You hardly sleep that night.

You spend the weekend lingering at the mentioned cafe. After some hard thought, you’ve forgone a disguise. He’ll notice if you’re trying to hide your features, so you just have to hope and pray that you become another blurred face he sees.

“He’s walking your way, [Name].”

You take a deep breath as WEBBER crawls onto your shoulder. He’s wearing layers, so WEB will have an easier time staying hidden. The robot is light, you made sure. You walk towards him, keeping your gaze forward. If this doesn’t work, you’ll figure something out. You just… really hope it doesn’t come down to that.

As you get closer, you side-step out of his way and allow your shoulder to pass his, not touching, but almost. WEBBER hops onto him and scuttles into his breast pocket.

“I will make sure I am not seen.”

“I trust you, Karen.”

Tim Drake does not notice the little spider hidden in his clothes. He returns to Wayne Manor none the wiser. WEBBER clings to his back as he makes his way down to the Batcave. You watch through the little camera from your laptop. Your jaw drops.

Literally every Bat and Bird, former or current, is down there. Even Oracle herself is there. They’re all in civvies, so you suspect they’re just hanging out and chose the goddamn Batcave to do so.

“Just…” you sigh, already done with your spidey luck, “...keep going, K.”

WEBBER hops down from Tim’s back, scrambling across the floor. The mic you impulsively added picks up on conversation.

“I think you’re looking a little too hard into things, man.” It’s Duke Thomas.

“They just seem like the main character trying to find their way into the world. Rich dad sends his kid into adulthood all alone. They struggle to fit in under the guise that they have less money than their peers. ‘Woe is me’ type of stuff, y’know?” Stephanie Brown.

There’s a scoff. “They hold too much intelligence to have that kind of persona. They are able to direct less than welcome attention with careful words and persuasion. They do not pay attention in class, yet their grades are pristine. I’ve seen their drawings in their sketchbook when they are not looking, it’s filled with equations and ideas for ‘personal projects’.”

Is he talking about… you? That sneaky bastard, when did he peek at your notes!? Have you been that distracted at school?

“It says that their dad’s an inventor,” comes Barbara’s voice. She’s on the Batcomputer, WEBBER has been waiting for when she turns around or gets off to make its move. “They obviously get it from him, then. What, you think they’re building a world-ending weapon or something?”

“I think,” he grits out, “that they are a suspicious person, appearing at the same time our new spider friend did.”

Bruce hums. “It’s plausible.”

Goddammit.

Barbara turns around, and WEB scuttles around the back of the Batcomputer. “If they are Spinnerette, It’s not like they’re performing any unwelcome actions. They’re just doing what the rest of us do.”

“Yeah,” comes Dick Grayson, “Bruce is only irked ‘cause he hasn’t gotten the chance to adopt them yet.” A round of chuckles is heard.

WEBBER plugs into the Batcomputer, and an alert pops onto the screen immediately. Barbara whips around, fingers flying onto the keyboard.

“Someone’s hacking into the Batcomputer.” Her words put everyone in the room at attention.

“Trace it,” growls Bruce. It’s a remarkable thing to be able to switch into his Batman mode like that.

Barbara throws up countless defenses, but Karen is an AI made by Tony freakin’ Stark , and you are his protégé.

“They’re bypassing all my shields, they’re getting in!” Barbara growls.

Tim and Bruce race to begin helping her, but your superspeed allows you to type faster than all three geniuses.

They watch as files are opened and downloaded into Karen’s system as she uploads herself. Info about the city, criminals and heroes alike are getting into ‘enemy’ hands before they’re very eyes.

“I can’t track them,” grits Barbara.

The room is silent as Karen finishes her job. Gotham’s protectors are greeted with a single pop-up.

“THANK YOU.”

It taunts them. Bruce slams a hand onto the table. “They have everything .”

“Time to get the hell out of dodge, K.”

WEBBER unplugs from the Batcomputer and scuttles to a hiding spot.

“How is this possible? They were able to dodge and counter all of my firewalls like it was nothing. B, what do we do?” Barbara runs a hand through her hair, stressed. It seems like whenever she visits she can never catch a break.

“Keep trying to find their trace, we’ll find them eventually.” Bruce turns around to see his kiddos standing straight, ready for orders. He looks at Damian.

“Do you think they have the capacity to do this?” He’s talking about you.

“They have a computer programming class. I will observe them to see if it’s possible,” vows Damian. You’ll have to be more careful from now on.

“I’ll ask Selina to keep an eye on them. I owe her a favor.” A few faces twist in disgust at what exactly Selina could have done for him to owe her.

“Suit up, be extra vigilant today. They may try to enact whatever plans they have.”

Nodding, they scurry to change into their suits. WEBBER hitches a ride on Tim again as he exits the cave. The robot hops off as soon as he leaves the manor's grounds. That’s your cue to suit up.

You quickly hop across rooftops and swing to WEBBERs location. Arriving at its location, you cradle the bot gently in your hands, running a finger across its back. “Good job, Karen.”

“There are many old tunnels from previous subways, they may lead to your new lab. I’ve also left a backdoor should we ever need to access their database again.”

You nod, webbing a nearby building to swing away. The city passes under you, bright lights from cars blurring together. You perform flips and twirls, you’re in a pretty good mood, all things considered. People point at you in recognition as you rush by. The people of Gotham are becoming familiar with their new friendly neighborhood spider.

You hop down into the old tunnel. It’s covered in cobwebs and dust. Looking around, you see that the station has not seen life in ages. Footsteps echo as you start down the tracks. The station you’re in right now is accessible through a hole, so hopefully you can find one that is completely caved in.

You hope the team doesn't miss you too terribly. You wonder if you’re even being looked for, and then immediately shake the thought away. You are being looked for. You’re certain that Tony and Miguel are butting heads right now about how to best find you.

The tracks end with a bunch of rocks collapsed onto them. It takes minimal effort to move them out of the way, you just hope you don’t accidentally cause a mini rockslide, or something. You side step the pile, entering the large area of the abandoned station. The walls are littered with aged graffiti. The stairs that normally would lead out are collapsed in. There’s vegetation growing about, so you’ll probably get them something to drink in order to not invoke Poison Ivy’s wrath.

“I believe this will make quite the suitable hideout,” chimes Karen.

She’s right. With some decorating this could be a real cozy place. “A little Spider Den,” you whisper. Your new lab.

When you got home after finding the Den, you got rid of the monstrosity of cables from your gritty suit charger. If Selina Kyle is going to be poking around your apartment (because she’ll definitely do it while you’re gone) you want to appear as a normal person. You leave sketches of throwaway inventions, notes for class and random homework around the place.

May pipes up when she sees you leaving for work, “you look happy.”

You pause, thinking of your answer. “I… found what I was looking for.” It’s vague, but true.

“Since you’ve come here, you’ve always looked troubled,” hums May. “But lately you seem to be finding stable ground.”

You smile and nod, saying nothing as you walk out.

Sam greets you as you walk in. “How was your first week, scholar?”

You groan dramatically, “it’s terrible, save me oh great Sam,” you exaggerate. Sam opens their arms and you fall into them. “There, there,” they coo. “Was it that bad for real?”

“No.” Your voice is muffled in their arms. “I’m just really… bored.”

Sam bursts out laughing. “The little genius baby is stuck with their less than genius peers!” Sam’s voice has drawn out Carrie and Gar.

“Look who’s back! Thank God, kid. This place was falling apart without you,” Carrie says, grinning.

Gar crosses his arms. “Find your ‘rich future spouse’ yet?”

You chuckle, “not yet.”

The pair go off to get the cafe ready for opening, and you're still in Sam’s arms.

“I ever tell you about my own Sam back home?” You’re not sure why you’ve spoken up.

Sam raises a brow. “Don’t think so. You trying to share with the class now?”

Inside the dimly lit workshop at the Tower, you tinker away at Redwing as Sam stands over your shoulder.

“You’re hurting him.”

“He is fine, you big baby. I know what I’m doing.”

It amuses you how much Sam sees Redwing as a living thing. You’re told not to encourage it, but what’s the harm?

“The chip is just a little fried,” you say, angling so that Sam can see. “It’s an easy fix.”

Sam lays a hand on his chest, sighing in relief. “Thought we were gonna have to put him down.” You snort at his dramatics.

The workshop falls into silence as you tinker away. “What made you come up with Redwing?” you say, never one for quiet.

Sam’s face lights up. “I needed something that could give me an edge in the field without being too bulky. A mix of coolness and necessity, you know?” He pokes Redwings’ ‘nose’. “Plus, there’s that winning personality.”

“Personality, huh?” You think of Karen.

“Yeah, Redwings not a tool, he’s a partner.” There’s fondness in Sam’s voice. “He scouts, gathers intel, and watches my back.”

You hum in thought, realizing how similar Redwing and Karen are. “Sounds like the two of you are really close.”

“I like to think so.” The workshop is filled with chatter as the two of you work away the hours.

“Maybe another time,” you mutter, face squished into Sam’s chest. Sam drops the subject.

It’s another slow day at the cafe. You get that inkling that someone is watching you, but you see nobody. You wouldn’t be surprised if Damian is spying on you from the next building over. At least the cafe plays good music over the speakers. You hum the lyrics as you clean the countertops.

The door chimes as someone walks in “Welcome to Carrie’s, how can I help you?”

“Hey, you.”

You look up, meeting the very blue eyes of one Jonathan Kent. You can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. “Hey, you!” you echo, smiling.

Jon brightens up at your smile. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you hum. “I’m really good.” You are. Once night time hits, you’ll go to the Den and finally start on your plans to recreate Tony’s badassium.

“In fact, I feel so good that I’m gonna ask you this; wanna go hang out at my place after I get off?” One might say you’re indulging yourself. You say you’re trying to seems as un-suspicious to Jon as possible. When Damian finds out you have ties to him, he’ll ask Jon everything he knows about you, and possibly even ask him to survey you. Hopefully your front as a regular ole highschooler keeps him from figuring you out.

Jon blinks in surprise, stuttering, “w-well, sure. Yeah. Totally, why not? Just…” he pauses, “...I still don’t know your name.”

You smile. “Shoot, yeah. Sorry about that.” You straighten your posture, sticking out a hand. “I’m [Name]. [Name] Stark.”

You see the little twitch of his brow. Ah, so Damian has already told him about you.

“Nice to meet you, [Name]. I’m Jonathan Kent. Keep calling me Jon, though,” Jon says, shaking your hand.

You pull away. “So, a small vanilla latte for you, not-stranger?”

“You remember,” he chuckles. You nod. You feel his eyes on you as you make his drink.

“So,” you say as you hand him the cup. “I get off at five, see you then?” you feign shyness.

He nods rapidly. “See you at five.”

You count down the minutes until you get off from work. You swear you see some blue blurs rush by in the sky and wonder if it’s Superboy. Wonder if this Batman is more lenient to others operating in Gotham.

The sun has only just begun its descent into the Earth when you step outside. Your bag is thrown over your shoulder. You look around, Jon isn’t there. You doubt he’s the type to bail, so you lean against the front of the building. You busy yourself with some more Crossy Road to pass the time. Five minutes pass, when you sigh. Maybe you were too hasty.

“[Name]!”

You turn, seeing Jon running to you. His appearance is ruffled, his shirt is inside out and his hair is all over the place. He was definitely Superboying around.

“Did you run all the way here?” you offer as an explanation for his appearance.

He claims it. “Yeah, sorry. I got caught up in some stuff.”

You can’t help yourself, and reach up to tame some of his hair. “Looks like you ran through a high powered fan, or something.”

He mindlessly tilts his head to let you do as you please, looking at you. You don’t dare meet his gaze. “Ok,” you say when you’re satisfied with his hair. “Let’s go.”

He offers his arm and you take it. “I wouldn’t think a Gothamite would tell me where they live on our second meeting,” he says.

“They probably wouldn’t,” you hum. “I’m not originally from Gotham, though.”

He blinks. “You’re not? I thought you were.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” It means you’ve done a good job at fitting it. “But no, I’m actually from Queens. New York.”

He hums. “I thought the accent was a little different.”

May greets you as you walk in, widening her eyes when she sees Jon. You ignore her wiggling brows as the two of you make your way up. Entering your apartment, nothing looks out of place, but your trained eye can see the way your papers have shifted from their original position. So Selina Kyle did end up snooping while you were gone.

“This is me,” you say, arms gesturing to the apartment. Nari rounds the corner, meowing for your attention. “And this,” you lift Nari into your arms, “is Nari.”

Jon pets Nari between his ears. “Hi, Nari.”

You put Nari in his arms, ignoring his small protests. Nari looks very content in Jon’s big arms. You snap a picture for yourself.

“My friend is actually a big fan of animals,” hums Jon, looking down at Nari.

“Yeah?” He’s talking about Damian. “The one that goes to GA?”

He nods. “His name is Damian. Damian Wayne. Have you met him?” His eyes bear into yours, switching into that hero interrogation mode. You wonder just how much Damian has told him.

“Yeah, I got a couple of classes with him.” You sit down on your couch, leaning back. “He’s got a real unique persona.” Jon chuckles in agreement, sitting down next to you. “How’d you become friends with a guy like that?”

“Our dads know each other.” Right.

“Well, he’s pretty cute. That’s all I got to say about him,” you say, looking over and snorting at Jon’s expression. His eyes are widened, no doubt wondering if he should leave out the fact that you just said that when he relays the info to Damian later.

“Well, I got some popcorn and some movies on my laptop. You down?” Jon nods.

You spend a couple hours sitting and chatting as you watch a couple of horror movies. Jon acted brave, but you could tell he was just a tiny bit freaked out.

Now, you swing to your new hideout, now equipped with cute fairy lights and cobweb hammocks. It wasn’t hard to get power working in the place, just tedious. Seriously, the amount of rubble you had to clear was atrocious.

You pull up the blueprints on a digital interface via your suit. “Alright, Karen. Let’s get to work."

When Miguel got an alert that you had been requesting assistance, he straightened up immediately. He had been running regular people errands, so he had to quickly stop by the HQ to suit up and get ready. From there he found out you had also contacted Peni, he started rushing. The other Spiderlings had caught wind of this, and demanded to tag along. Miguel and the kids entered a portal to your universe, and were immediately met with the large, inactive particle accelerator.

He hears Miles take a deep breath. It’s just like the one from his universe. You’re nowhere to be seen.

Lyla pops up next to him. “There’s been recent activity here. It was activated two times.”

“Two?” Miguel mutters.

He doesn’t get to dwell on it much, when some of the goddamn Avengers come barreling in. Iron Man, The Hulk (it’s just Bruce Banner right now, though) and Black Widow stand at the ready, looking at Miguel and the gang in apprehension.

“Oh, you’re my kids' little spider friends, right?” Tony’s voice is dry, feigning friendliness as if he isn’t pointing at them, ready to blast.

“We got an alert signal from [Name]’s suit,” Bruce explains, ignoring Tony’s betrayed stare.

“So did we,” says Hobie, analyzing the three.

Lyla tuts. “I’m not picking up their watch's signal.”

“[Name]’s tracker went offline, too.”

Miguel’s eyes scan his surroundings, settling on a pile of broken pieces on the floor. Broken watch pieces. He hears Pav and Gwen gasp as he kneels by it. “It’s their watch,” he explains to the Avengers, “the thing that allows them to multiversal travel.”

“Why is it broken.” Black Widow doesn’t phrase it as a question.

“Because someone must have broken it,” concludes Miguel. He straightens. “The watches are strong, it wasn’t an accident. Someone was here, with [Name].”

“Well now there’s nobody here, and [Name] is off the radar so where are they? ” growls Tony.

“The only plausible answer is that they’re in another universe.” Miguel looks at the particle accelerator. “Without a watch.”

The kids look sick to their stomachs. “Can’t we trace the signal from the accelerator?” questions Peni.

“Normally, I could,” chimes Lyla. “But… I can’t.”

“ Why not?” Miles questions.

“Okay, so you know that there are literally infinite universes out there. If each universe is a satellite and the watches, or the accelerator in this case, is a signal, then there’s only a certain ‘distance’ I can trace [Name]’s whereabouts.”

Gwen thinks she’s getting a headache. “So, what? She’s in a universe that’s ‘too far away’?”

Lyla nods. “In that sense, yes.”

“This is pointless,” huffs Tony, walking up to Miguel. “We are wasting time talking about technicalities, we should be looking for my kid.”

“Is there anyone you know who could’ve built this?” Miguel asks Tony.

“Nobody smart enough has it out that bad for [Name]. Unless it was another me or another [Name] there’s no one capable of doing this without someone noticing,” Tony pauses, looking at the spider variants before him.

Tony’s voice drops into a whisper, “could someone from another universe have done this?”

“If someone from another universe ended up in this one, why throw [Name] into a random one?” Bruce stresses. “They wouldn’t have any strife with Spinnerette.”

“Unless it’s a spidey villain.”

“What spidey villain is smart enough to do this? Doc Ock?”

“Maybe–”

Miguel interrupts, “it was activated twice, so one time was for [Name] entering it, and the other was for whoever broke their watch. They built this–” Miguel gestures to the giant machine, “–so they were obviously here for a while.”

“Only a fool would attempt a multiversal jump without certainty that they could get back home, so that means–”

“–they accidentally got stuck here,” finishes Tony, looking graver by the minute.

“For who knows how long,” hums Hobie, now in thought.

“Trying to get back home, they build a particle accelerator–”

“–clearly their work is cut out for them, otherwise they would have come up with a much smaller design–”

“–they meet [Name], who would see this and automatically assume they’re a threat.”

“[Name] would try to shut it down, and our mystery guy gets desperate, because [Name]’s the one thing standing between them and their way back home.”

“The particle accelerator is already activated. They see the watch, recognize it as a multiversal travel tool and smash it–”

“–so that [Name] can’t find them–”

“–because they throw [Name] into another universe.”

“They go back home to their universe scott-free.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure how Black Widow’s unhappy with the development.

“In other news, I’ve got the trace of the other person who used the accelerator!” Lyla sings.

Miguel’s face scrunches. “If we don’t know which universe [Name] is in, I really doubt they do.”

“I’d still like a word with them,” Black Widow crosses her arms.

“Maybe later, right now–” Miguel turns to the Spiderlings. “–we should head back to HQ. We’ll send out an alert, every spider will look for [Name] when they can. We’ll search every universe if we have to.”

“Great, what do we do?” Tony asks, gesturing to his comrades.

“Miguel turns back to them. “You said [Name]’s got a tracker in the suit, right?” Tony nods. “We’ll need something that can latch onto its signal as soon as a Spider enters an Earth, no matter how far away they are. Can you build something like that? You can use tech from other universes if you need to.”

Tony nods, resolute. “You better get my kid back.”

Miguel nods. “We will.” A portal opens, swallowing Miguel and the Spiderlings.

“FRI, get the workshop ready and notify the others of the situation,” says Tony, turning around and making his way out of the warehouse. Nat and Bruce follow. “I want Strange and Wanda on this immediately.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Tony mutters under his breath, “I’ll get my damn kid back, alright.”

notes: if you're female-identifying ur def vicky's gay awakening LOL

i'm not entirely sure is "badassium" is the canon name for tony's new element, i actually think i saw somewhere that it was the name fans gave it. either way "badassium" is what we rockin' with.

i hope my explanation as to why reader hasn't been found isn't too confusing. i didn't plan on having it kind of explained so soon but a group up spideys (who are all basically genius cuz they're SPIDERMAN) are bound to figure it out. also like that whole 'the spiders and the avenger' meeting scene was supposed to be in the last chapter but i forgot to add it LOL

also chatgpt came up with webbers acronym guys i am NOT smart enough for that.

damian: good job getting into their base of operations (apartment) now we can gather more info on them

jon, who just wanted to spend time w/ reader: oh yeah lol light work

#damian wayne x reader #jon kent x reader #robin x reader #superboy x reader #dc x reader

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comicaurora · 2 years ago

Note

What other mythological creatures would be fun in space? If the answer is "most of them?", Then limit the scope of the question to what becomes *more* fun in space?

Still "most of them," unfortunately.

Deep in the bowels of a derelict, drifting hulk, so battered with cosmic rays and space debris all sign of its original function have eroded away, something that could have been human roams the labyrinthine halls. Who knows what terrible crime or tragedy spawned it? It is huge, and hungry, and terribly, terribly alone. All anyone knows is that the drifting hulk that screams to the void in a hundred looping distress calls is to be avoided at all costs, for the maze is deadly and its lone prisoner even deadlier.

An enchanting woman knocks on the porthole with a broad smile, hair flowing in beautiful curls and mouth moving soundlessly in the boiling vacuum. She seems unaware of the inch-thick tempered plasteel, or perhaps unaware of its necessity for the mortal and the fragile within. As she stares unblinking, whispers begin to crackle over the ship radio, half-parseable snatches in many voices - surnames, stardates, coordinates. The knowledge is so, so tempting.

The astronaut is standing just outside the airlock. The sun is starting to sink behind the lunar horizon, cutting razor-sharp shadows across the silvery dust. He's been standing, patiently, for over four hours. The crew in the lander are huddled as far away from the door as possible, unconacipusly avoiding the astronaut's cold and vacant bunk. They had buried him, after all, three rotations ago, the special kind of dead you only get after decompression-induced exsanguination. And yet here he stands, looking better than ever, a healthy blush in his cheeks clearly visible without that bulky reflective helmet in the way. His eyes catch the setting sun strangely, almost red.

Space is an ocean, they say; the analogy is imperfect, and yet persistent in its poetry. The seafarers of old coasted along the surface of a vast and unknowable deep and called it sailing, and the spacefarers of the new frontier do the same. They speed between the stars or cut through wormhole gates for the occasional shortcut, skimming the three-dimensional surface of the vast four-dimensional space that wormholes can only tentatively pierce, and they are satisfied. But there are strange shadows in the stars, twisting and slow - distortions that ripple out from the hyperdepth and mostly pass without incident, barring the sensitive instruments left screaming in their wake. Nobody has ever seen the four-dimensional leviathans that cast these three-dimensional shadows. At least, nobody who's come back.

They call it a dragon because it flies and it's the scariest thing they've ever seen. It doesn't do it justice. If anything, trying to give it a familiar name only highlights its horrible uncategorizability. It flies, yes - or at least it undulates through atmosphere, seemingly irrelevant to its own mass. It has a golden hoard and breathes poison and fire, or rather the nuclear furnace that boils in its sinuous belly vomits out great gouts of poison fire that leaves stone and flesh as glassy slag and metals fused into radioactive gold. The land all around its lair is blackened and sick, a vile caldera of strange-colored swampland and twisted, fungal trees. In the absolute terror and devastation of its wake, the colonists fall back on old, bad superstitions and offer it a girl…

The sorcerer took out his heart long ago, they say. This is true, but inadequate. His true body is shattered in closely guarded pieces to protect himself from a total death; the form he presents is only a projection of his will onto and through the nanite colony his machinations spawned, a body crafted by the immortal mind and will of one who sacrificed everything to be deathless. His heart is concealed in a small life support capsule in a long-forgotten laboratory in a satellite orbiting the moon of a quarantined colony world; his nervous system wires itself through the vast, organic computer that has taken the place of the planet's core. Backups of backups of backups, redundancies laced through every stolen system. He knows there was a purpose to this, once; a goal to all this sacrifice beyond a simple extension of life. He will never remember who he wanted this for. To be truly deathless, one cannot have a heart.

It's retroviral, they think. No other form of infection could've rewired her cells this fundamentally. It's irreversible without gene therapy, but at least she isn't deteriorating, they say. At least she's holding together while they look for a treatment. She can feel it, though, no matter what the medic says; sub-cellular or not, she can feel it boiling under her skin, sharpening her teeth, burning out from the site of the bite on her arm. And she can feel, with absolute certainty, the planet's two satellites slowly shifting into opposition with the sun, right through the windowless walls of the quarantine pod. She doesn't know what she'll become when the moons are full, but she doesn't speak her suspicions. A part of her - perhaps even a part that's always been there - is very, very eager to find out.

A colony was here once, a long, long time ago. Terraformed and everything, but those were the early days, before they realized you needed a magnetosphere to keep all that air and water from being wicked away by the solar wind. The loss was so gradual it didn't make sense until over a century later, and there wasn't anything they could do for them long-term - wrong kind of core for a polarization op. They did evac, of course, but the priority was low - and it was centuries deep into social development. Everybody on that world had been born there, and some of them didn't want to leave. Way I hear it, some of them insisted on staying - strongly and violently - and the folks in charge eventually got tired of losing troops in a dessicating backwater that was gonna solve itself in less than a century, so they just fudged the paperwork and washed their hands of the whole thing. It's near airless now - stopped being a viable colony world nigh on thirty years back when the last of the ice vanished. But that's not why we steer clear. We don't land there because the locals didn't have the decency to die right, and it can be damn unsettling to catch their shadows sneaking across the sand. They're drawn to ships, you know? Poor bastards still think they can leave.

#asks #not aurora #writing stuff #love 2 horror write instead of slep

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 10 months ago

Text

Alt Assistant AU Pt 2

Kara takes Lena's confrontation as a challenge. She's faced icy walls before-- she'll melt them again. But just as in the previous reality, Lena doesn't make it easy.

The pastries Kara begins delivering with Lena's coffee every morning go straight to the trash, every time, with a sharp look and an even sharper, "Don't."

Don't.

The word becomes Kara's frequent companion, issued any time she steps outside the bare minimum of her role.

Meals Lena doesn't order, but that Kara knows she likes-- don't.

A post it smiley note pressed to the cup of her coffee-- don't.

The snort when Kara hears a particularly cutting remark in response to a particularly sexist board member-- don't.

Kara's used to the rebuffs, as she's already weathered them before. But these are different. Before, in the previous reality that got so twisted, Lena's refusals were to protect herself, audibly defensive. But "don't".... Lena says it with an obstinance she's never had before.

But Kara doesn't mind it.

In fact, she relishes the opportunity to lift an arch brow in response to each of those stubborn don'ts, a challenge in her own right.

Try and stop me, it says, smug and confident in a way Kara hasn't felt in years. She has the knowledge of a whole reality behind her, and Lena.... Lena has no idea what's coming to her.

The fact that Lex hadn't seen fit to give her Supergirl in this reality only helps.

She's a little surprised that she feels this way, but also a little not. She's been tired for a long time, and had never been able to find the voice to ask for rest. Now she has it in spades, and uses it to research everything she can about Lena in this reality.

Each tidbit Kara learns warms her insides, in a way that was only ever a tickle before. That Lena is an Olympic medalist, and prodigious TedTalker. That her cancer research has served as the foundation for the world's bleeding edge developments on the subject, and that her nanites are already used in crisis areas around the globe.

That Jack Spheer lives, spearheading it all on Lena's behalf when L-Corp pulls her elsewhere.

She thinks to send him an alert to an upcoming gap in Lena's schedule while he's in town, knowing that Lena would have already declined to leave her office, but her finger hesitates on the send button.

Kara remembers much about the previous reality, including the way her stomach had burned that night in that restaurant, watching Lena's gaze spark with interest when Jack spoke of their project.

This time, she can do something about her jealousy-- she doesn't send the message.

"Don't," Lena issues pre-emptively the next morning, when Kara returns to clear signs of an all-nighter. Lena accepts the coffee, but as always dumps the pastry.

"Don't what?"

It pulls Lena's gaze to her, sharp and direct as always. It doesn't daunt Kara anymore. She almost smirks.

Lena's lips purse ever so slightly.

"You know what."

That's all she says, and this time Kara does smirk. She saunters back to desk, and feels Lena's gaze on her all the way out.

#supercorp #alt assistant au #post crisis #more to come

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raymantogether · 3 months ago

Text

Rayman Together Community Spotlight #4 - MarkedAsUnreal

Introduction:

Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc was published by Ubisoft Paris and released on February 21st, 2003, in Europe and in March 2003 worldwide. That was almost 22 years ago. Feeling old yet? Well, Ubisoft did release Rayman 3: HD in 2012, but we won't talk about that. Rayman 3 is undoubtedly a fan favorite in the series thanks to its whimsical but very risque adult humor. The game is also critically acclaimed thanks to its very fun and diverse 3D platforming and its exceptional cast of characters and enemies. Nothing has ever come close in the series to the success of Rayman 3, in my opinion. And while I wait in hope for Ubisoft to bring back Rayman to his core 3D roots, I can't help thinking, Why doesn't Ubisoft just remake Rayman 3.

Fortunately, this is no longer an issue. For this latest Rayman Together Community Spotlight, I have the pleasure of interviewing Marked As Unreal, a Rayman fan from Poland who is working on the Rayman 3 Fan Remake on YouTube. This ground-breaking development blog focuses upon reimaging Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc using Unreal Engine 5. The development process has been fascinating to watch, and this has become undoubtedly a favorite fan project of mine. The results have been spectacular, and the game looks simply incredible. You can see the results for yourself below from these comparison shots.

(Rayman 3: Unreal Engine Fan Remake)

(Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc)

(Rayman 3: Unreal Engine Fan Remake)

(Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc)

So sit back and relax as this latest community spotlight takes you into more detail about the genius behind the Rayman 3: Fan Remake and a more personal insight into this amazing community project.

Spotlight:

1. Please introduce yourself.

"Hi! I’m Mark. I’m a gaming enthusiast from Poland who dreams of making his own small indie title one day. To help me achieve that goal, I’m currently trying to learn game development and Unreal Engine by remaking one of my favorite games of all time, Rayman 3. I didn’t have much coding or Unreal Engine experience prior to this project, but I did work as a 3D artist for almost 4 years. The most notable project I’ve worked on as a 3D artist was “The Medium” by the Bloober team. What was really awesome about this project is that its art style is based on Zdzislaw Beksinski’s paintings, who is a painter that I am a big fan of."

2. What do you do for a living?

"For most of the year I work at a campground doing maintenance, but in the summer I work at an ice cream/waffle shop."

3. What do you enjoy doing in your spare time

"I often play games and watch various shows when I’m looking to have a chill time. There are many games which I would consider my favorites, but to name a few (besides Rayman of course), there are the old Halo games, the Dead Space series, Old School RuneScape, Subnautica, the Bioshock series, Portal 2, Undertale, from software games, or the Respawn Entertainments Jedi series. As shows are considered, I lately find myself really enjoying anime. My favorites are Vinland Saga, Attack on Titan, and Jojo’s bizarre adventure. Jujustsu Kaisen is also really sick. Regarding more active ways to spend my free time, I really love bouldering (it’s a type of rock climbing) and snowboarding."

4. What got you into the Unreal Engine project on Rayman 3?

"Learning game development by trying to recreate one of my favorite games just seemed like it could be a ton of fun (and I wasn’t wrong, because it is a blast!). And I decided to go for Unreal Engine because I really wanted to try out the new features everyone was talking about (Nanite and Lumen). The fact that many AAA companies use Unreal Engine to make their games also made it feel like a better choice than Unity."

5. Tell us about your experience on the project with Rayman 3.

"The hardest part was the start, of course. I didn’t really know Unreal Engine, so doing the simplest things was a challenge. Every step required me to go through a tutorial first. Also, I started this project with the most complex part, while still having very little programming knowledge, which was coding in the characters movement and collision. On one hand, this was maybe not the wisest thing to start with, but on the other, I wanted to start with the hardest and most important part, to know if there is even a point in trying to make this game in the first place. Otherwise, I was at risk of doing something easy for half a year just to hit an unpassable wall. But you know, the greater the challenge, the greater the satisfaction once you overcome it. So, satisfying and fun are two main words that I would use to describe my experience working on this.

What’s also an amazing feeling is to have this complete freedom and agency over the project. I can make it look however I like, I can work on whatever I feel like working at the moment, and I can work at a pace that I feel like working at. It’s an amazing luxury that’s only possible because this is a passion project.

I’d also like to mention how cool of an experience it was working on the Teensie highway part of the level. Because of how surreal and random that part is, working on it felt very fresh and different. Not to mention that it was a nice way to see how much I’ve grown since I started this project, because while coding in all the logic for the surfboard Rayman, I could see how much easier this was for me to make in comparison to the regular Rayman that I was making when starting the project. Granted, the surfboard Rayman is much simpler in terms of complexity, but still, I felt like I could see a noticeable difference in my skill level.

Finally, I can’t leave this question without mentioning what a great laugh I had when putting in all the drunken Teensies around the Heart of the World area. I love those guys, and creating all those little stories (like the two teens fighting on a ledge) was such a fun experience."

6. How has it been for you personally revisiting Rayman 3?

"To be honest, this doesn’t really feel like I’m revisiting the game, because I replay Rayman 3 fairly often, so it kind of feels like this game is never far off."

7. Are you planning to recreate the whole game in Unreal Engine?

"I’m sorry to say that no, I am not. It’s like I said in one of my first videos: this was always meant to be a learning opportunity for me, as well as a way to get a grasp on what project scope seems realistic for one person or a small team. If I had unlimited time, then I would love to recreate the whole game, because I love working on this. But the sad reality is that I'd probably be well in my 40s before the whole game would be remade. I’d like to be younger before I start working on my own games.

I’m not yet sure where exactly I will stop, but I am going to finish the fairy council level and share it, so everyone will have a chance to play it.

I haven’t really ever mentioned, though, what my plans are for the project; once I decide, it’s time for me to move on, so let me reveal them right now. My plan is to share the whole project for anyone to download and create a Discord server that will act as a hub for the project. I will be there to assist and help anyone who would like to make something using my remake (like continue from where I left off, make their own custom levels, or even just use some parts of it to create something else entirely).

8. Has anyone at Ubisoft or within the gaming industry approached you during your time sharing your development blogs on YouTube?

"No, no one has."

9. Are you planning to do any other Rayman games or any other videogames in Unreal Engine in the future after you have finished with Rayman 3?

"After the Rayman 3 remake, I will start making my own title. I already have a pretty clear idea of what that game is going to be; however, I’m not going to share that information yet. There is a lot of work left in this project, even just for the first level, so I’m still keeping my focus on the remake."

10. You are also a fan of the Unity Engine; can you tell us why?

"I just really enjoy working in it. It’s really cool that anyone can just download this software and start creating a game. I really like how the software is structured. I feel like it's really daunting at first, but once you get the hang of it, using it just makes sense. Nowadays, I don’t really need to revisit many tutorials on how to do some things because I find the whole user experience pretty neatly organized and logical. What’s also really cool is that a lot of features are pretty cutting edge and yet still free to use (this is a bit of a double-edged sword, however, as new features are often pretty risky to use as they are not yet properly tested for production)."

11. How did you get into the Rayman series?

"My first Rayman game was Rayman 1 on the PS1. I was probably around 4 years old or something like that, so I think that it goes without saying that I didn’t beat it back then (and still haven’t, but I never really went back to try). Then, if I’m remembering correctly, I found Rayman 2 lying in a supermarket on a heap with other games and managed to convince my mom to buy it. I was probably around 6. This one I did manage to beat, but it took a long time. Some parts were really challenging back then. Also, it was really hard for me to figure out that I needed to backtrack in order to help Clark. Then I think I got Rayman 3 around the time it came out, so I was probably like around 8. So old enough to beat this one without too many issues. This is also the one that I liked the most at the time. I vividly remember how the first time I booted Rayman 3, I had this weird bug where the left key didn’t work, and I thought that maybe this was intended. I figured that since Rayman doesn’t have his hands (because Globox runs off with them), he has problems with keeping his balance, and that explains why I can't run left. Let me tell you, trying to catch that barrel without the ability to run left was pretty impossible, haha. Luckily, rebooting the game fixed the issue."

12. What is your favorite Rayman game and character?

"My favorite game is either Rayman 2 or Rayman 3, depending on my mood. Both to me have their respective strengths and weaknesses, but both are absolutely amazing. Rayman 2 is unmatched in its atmosphere and level design. Rayman 3 has really fun combat encounters, and I like the characters (design and writing) much more. And the whole Knaaren desert level is just so awesome! When I was a kid, my favorite character was straight up Rayman, but now it’s definitely the teensies. Though Globox from Rayman 3 is a close second place. Whenever I play Rayman Legends, I usually play as a teensie (but if I don’t feel like playing as a teensie, I always go for Rayomz)"

Thank you so much for being a part of my community spotlight, Marked As Unreal. It was a pleasure to read and see some of the creative processes behind the Rayman 3: Fan Remake. I look forward to seeing everything once it's complete. I wish you all the best with the development and in your future projects.

Please don't forget to support Marked As Unreal. If you are eager to see more, I have included links to their social accounts below. Have a good weekend, Rayman fans. See you next time.

MarkedAsUnreal Links:

https://www.linkedin.com/in/marek-holubowski/

Rayman The Boardgame:

Rayman fans, don't forget Rayman: The Boardgame Kickstarter campaign ends on October 8th. There isn't much time until the end of the campaign. If you haven't already, don't forget to pledge and don't miss out on this amazing board game and some amazing bonuses.

#rayman #ubisoft #nintendo #playstation #xbox

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jpitha · 1 month ago

Text

Between the Black and Grey - Epilogue

First / Previous

The K'laxi Administration and Fleet Command was on a space station, orbiting high above their planet. Sure, they had countries like the humans and other peoples; they were not one large homogenous people. K'laxi came in all different shapes, sizes, colors, and predilections just like humans, Gren, Innari, and others. They found that having a central station not on the planet allowed the greatest chance for cooperation and coordination among the different K'laxi peoples.

Except for the whole civil wars thing, but that was nearly finished with anyway, so there was no need for concern with that.

Zhe walked down the halls; her steps confident, her gaze high and clear, and her uniform... unfamiliar to Fen, Penny, Chloe, and the others. Gord would probably recognize it, but he would also have known better than to say anything. People in the halls gave her plenty of space, and a few tried to make it look like they had forgotten something and needed to turn around and go down that other hall very quickly. It's not every day that a member of the Mel'itim - the secret police - walks around in uniform. Zhe's face was impassive, but she smiled inwardly at the sight. It was fun to be intimidating sometimes.

She had asked Penny and Fen - Currently Empress and Empress Emeritus - for a few months off "to visit family and check in on them." It had been granted without question. She was given use of a frigate with a full crew and ordered to 'relax and take time off."

Fen's recovery had been slow, difficult. Some parts of her body were permanently damaged and had been replaced with artificial and lab grown replacements. Her legs were built much like the AI bodies, and most of her lungs had to be re-grown. Han'iel's implant was also removed and it was discovered that while it was a magnetic bottle for antimatter, none was present. That caused a stir and made everyone question just how successful Han'iel's project to develop reliable antimatter was. Did he just make enough for the one missile, and couldn't make anymore? It just led to more questions that would be asked of him when he was captured. Fen was able to walk, and her mind was intact, but the nanite infestation had changed her. She was more quiet, introspective. She had no desire to rule and would spend long hours in the royal suites reading or studying. She was trying to learn all she could about what actually happened to one in one hundred humans when they went through a wormhole link. Quite a few anonymous donations for research into the phenomenon had been made as of late, so people had begun to dig deeper into it.

The nanites seemed to be gone. Fen's virus had worked its way through the main cloud around the white hole, and then had passed virulently through the worlds until no real trace could be detected. Most everyone had no idea that they existed - let alone held sway over the human Empress' for the last few centuries, and as much as they could, that information was suppressed. The official word was that they were a malevolent species that long in the past had decided to become a cloud of nanoscale consciousness. Their matter manipulation and... mind manipulation abilities were quietly ignored. Fen's virus was such that those who had an especially large concentration of nanites did not come away unscathed, but nobody seemed to be as damaged as she was. Most everyone who had a large amount of them already knew they existed, or could be convinced to keep their true purpose quiet.

Han'iel's rebellion was still underway, but the tide had turned. The pro-Sol faction had always been larger, and even during the previous civil war when it was more of a religious war than an ideological one there were more K'laxi that wanted to throw their lot in with the humans, even if it was for practical and pragmatic reasons. With Fen and Penny's quiet help, the pro-Sol faction was most likely going to win.

Speaking of, Penny did have quite a few pretenders to contend with, but most of them wound up being pretenders in name only. They had no support, no money, and no weapons. A small number - less than six - did have some of those things, but with Zhe's help and a few 'happy accidents' they were taken care of. One of the last, a general that was quite popular with his crew and managed to put together a flotilla of like minded ships was convinced with a rather large payout and only a small amount of sitting tied to a chair with a wormhole link backpack strapped to him to 'retire' and move to Meíhuà. All in all, the succession 'question' had lasted less than a year.

The human colonies had largely taken a 'wait and see' approach to everything going on. Parvati put out plenty of announcements that they were 'proud of being a member of the Empire' but also had quietly called up their reservists and dug a few old ships out of mothballs and began refitting them for service. The AI citizens that had previously been the ships were offered their old positions, and most took them. Meíhuà, being the furthest and most insular colony went on as they always had, with one eyebrow raised towards Sol, and concentrated on their own things. There was word that Penny would declare self determination for all interested polities and that the main colony worlds would most likely take them up on it. That hadn't happened yet however.

The Gren, Sefigans, Innari, and others were pleased that the Empire had given up their 'recent acquisitions' and had offered to pay reparations for the damages they had caused, but in return peace and friendship agreements were... encouraged to be signed by the humans. They were signed in due course, and before long trade would resume between the peoples.

The AIs were... the AIs. Almost, but not quite human, they had their own wants, needs, desires, and goals. A faction was developing of the newer, younger AIs who wished to strike off on their own, make their own colony, and remove themselves from what they saw as 'human hegemony.' The older AIs on the other hand felt a much closer kinship to the humans and wanted to stay around and help them. Gord was the de facto leader of the 'old guard' and wasn't interested in in-fighting. Chloe had mentioned to Fen quietly that he was probably going to let anyone who wanted to go, go and anyone who wanted to stay, stay.

Zhe stood, her feet shoulder width apart, her tail still while the report was read aloud by a steward. Three elder K'laxi sat on a dais above her, their faces stony. When the steward was finished, she saluted and walked out of the room. Behind her, the door closed with finality.

"Zherun, your report is... extensive." The K'laxi in the middle said, his ears flicking. "We had expected a report sooner, but I suppose what you were dealing with necessitated delays in reporting."

"Yes, Elder." Zhe looked straight ahead.

"You were not successful in preventing the Empress from developing antimatter." The one on Zhe's left said, her fur long and wavy, unusual in K'laxi.

"No, Elder. They have improved their containment technology, but their production technology remains slow and difficult. Empress Penelope has no real desire to continue Fen's line of research. I anticipate it will stall."

"How goes the Heap?" The one on her right said, his ears flicking in amusement.

"My Father's work continues. He understands... some of the nature of my role here and does not pressure me." Just for a moment, her eyes met his. "Though, he would like me to return and take up the family mantle."

The right K'laxi nodded. "A pirate who can also report back to us on information is a valuable asset indeed. Letters of marquis will not be issued, and there will be an expectation that you will keep... activities against K'laxi to a minimum, but I see no real issue with that being your next posting. Agreed?"

"Agreed." The other two K'laxi echoed.

That was surprising. Zhe was wondering when she could request a transfer to the Heap. The fact that they were assigning her there solved so many problems. "Thank you, Elders. I will continue my work on the Heap."

"We know you will, Zhe, that's why we're assigning you there. Continue to bring us accurate information about the humans and other species in the galaxy, and your leash will be long."

"Did you wind up mating with Fen?" The middle K'laxi asked.

"P-Pardon me?" Zhe's fur rippled a few times, blushing, but she managed to keep her expression from changing, other than her already large eyes widening a little.

The Elder practically rolled his eyes. "You're not an embarrassed child, you heard my question. We know she was married to a K'laxi, so we know she is attracted to us. Mating with her and beginning a relationship would be an excellent way to gain information."

"Er, no Elder, I did not. She still loves her wife, and other than some physical intimacy with Penny, I did not see her express any desire in another relationship."

"You never offered?"

"Elder! With all due respect, that is too far."

He laughed with the barking cough of K'laxi laughter. "Zherun, you have done well. We thank you for your service and wish you all the best in your future." The three of them stood, signaling the end of the debrief.

Zhe saluted, and turned to leave. As she approached the door, the lock clicked, and a guard opened it for her, nodding slightly as she passed.

If she was going to be going to the Heap for a while, she should stock up while she was here. Zhe headed down towards the promenade, wondering how many people were going to avoid her while she wore her uniform, and whether she could leverage that fear into a discount on a box of Chamomile.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #jpitha #humans and aliens #writing #sci fi writing #humans are space australians #humans are space capybaras #FlashWarp

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theomeganerd · 3 months ago

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Halo Moving to Unreal Engine 5 as 343 Industries Rebrands, 'Multiple Projects' in Development

Halo Studios: New Name, New Engine, New Games, New Philosophy

Ahead of the final match at today’s 2024 Halo World Championship, we saw an unexpected video. It depicted landscapes you might expect from the Halo series – Forerunner architecture jutting from dramatic landscapes inspired by the Pacific Northwest, gorgeous fields of ice, even a vista blighted and consumed by The Flood. We of course saw glimpses of the Master Chief, and his iconic enemies, even a Banshee arcing past the camera. But what we saw wasn’t a look back – this was something entirely new.

We’re entering a new dawn for Halo. Those new visuals were created using Unreal Engine 5 – and we learned that all future Halo projects will use the engine, and that multiple new games using it are in development. Alongside the engine change, the studio is seeing changes in culture, workflow, and how its teams are organized. To match that new approach, franchise stewards 343 Industries are changing their name – Halo Studios is here.

The First Step Switching from the studio’s proprietary Slipspace Engine to Unreal is a key part of that change. Previously, 343 Industries needed a large portion of its staff simply to develop and upkeep the engine its games ran on. “We believe that the consumption habits of gamers have changed – the expectations of how fast their content is available,” says Hintze. “On Halo Infinite, we were developing a tech stack that was supposed to set us up for the future, and games at the same time.”

As gaming evolves, and players increasingly point out how long it takes to see new games from their favorite series, the team at Halo Studios felt the need to react. As COO Elizabeth van Wyck puts it:

“The way we made Halo games before doesn’t necessarily work as well for the way we want to make games for the future. So part of the conversation we had was about how we help the team focus on making games, versus making the tools and the engines.”

Alongside the wider changes to how the studio is set up (which you can read more about below), adopting Unreal means Halo Studios is more able to create games with a focus that can satisfy fans – even setting up multiple teams to create different games simultaneously. But Unreal also comes with in-built benefits that would have taken years of work to replicate with Slipspace:

“Respectfully, some components of Slipspace are almost 25 years old,” explains Studio Art Director, Chris Matthews. “Although 343 were developing it continuously, there are aspects of Unreal that Epic has been developing for some time, which are unavailable to us in Slipspace – and would have taken huge amounts of time and resources to try and replicate.

“One of the primary things we’re interested in is growing and expanding our world so players have more to interact with and more to experience. Nanite and Lumen [Unreal’s rendering and lighting technologies] offer us an opportunity to do that in a way that the industry hasn’t seen before. As artists, it’s incredibly exciting to do that work.”

There’s another in-built benefit – Unreal is familiar to huge parts of the wider gaming industry. Where developers would have to spend time learning how to use Slipspace when joining 343, Halo Studios’ adoption of the industry-leading engine makes it a far smoother process to bring in new talent (and the studio is indeed hiring for its new projects now):

“It’s not just about how long it takes to bring a game to market, but how long it takes for us to update the game, bring new content to players, adapt to what we’re seeing our players want,” says Van Wyck. “Part of that is [in how we build the game], but another part is the recruiting. How long does it take to ramp somebody up to be able to actually create assets that show up in your game?”

With the move to Unreal, the on-ramp is shorter, the experience is there, and the series can grow far more quickly and organically than ever before.

Forging Ahead Of course, Halo Studios needed to be confident in the switch to Unreal – this isn’t a decision taken lightly. The team had to be sure that the first Halo games to come out of a non-Slipspace engine would look, feel, and sound right. The team began experimenting, and it resulted in a research project known as Project Foundry – the source for all the new clips we saw today.

“When we decided to do Foundry, it wasn’t, at that point, in our plan,” says Van Wyck. “But we needed to pause and – ‘validate’ is not the right word, but educate and understand what our capability is, and assess it, so we actually know we’re on the right path.

“We’ve intentionally been really quiet up to this point, but I think [today] is about just sharing where we are, what our priorities are as a studio, and where the team is. We’re really proud of what came out of Foundry.”

So what does Foundry represent? The team is clear that this is not a new game – but nor is it a traditional tech demo. It isn’t just an exploration of what’s possible with this engine – it’s a true reflection of what would be required for a new Halo game using Unreal, and a training tool for how to get there. Foundry has been made with the same rigor, process, and fidelity as a shipped game would be.

“Where this type of work’s been done historically, across the industry, it can contain a lot of smoke and mirrors,” explains Matthews. “It sometimes leads players down paths where they believe it’s going to be one thing, and then something else happens. The ethos of Foundry is vigorously the opposite of that.

“Everything we’ve made is built to the kind of standards that we need to build for the future of our games. We were very intentional about not stepping into tech demo territory. We built things that we truly believe in, and the content that we’ve built – or at least a good percentage of it – could travel anywhere inside our games in the future if we so desire it.”

Hintze goes further: “It’s fair to say that our intent is that the majority of what we showcased in Foundry is expected to be in projects which we are building, or future projects.”

And what we’ve seen of Foundry promises incredible things. Named after the Foundry within Halo’s lore – the central forge of the megastructure used to create the Halo Rings themselves – the project saw the team set out to create three distinct biomes in the style of Halo. The goal was, as Matthews puts it, to make something old, something new, and something truly alien.

For something old, we see a biome inspired by the Pacific Northwest – a staple of the series – but in dramatic new form. Waterfalls crash over mountains, a running creek becomes the site of a tableau pitching the Chief against two Covenant Elites, and the team pushed Unreal to include as much foliage as technically possible.

For something new, we see the Coldlands location, a region locked in a deep freeze, with snowdrifts covering plateaus, and ice reflecting what’s above and refracting what’s below. And for something alien, we see the Blightlands, a brand new take on a Halo location – a world consumed by the parasitic Flood. The express purpose of the Blightlands was to see how this new-look Halo team could push the world itself farther than previous Halo games – the results speak for themselves.

Even the familiar looks new in Foundry. The Chief’s armor has been modelled with extreme care, down to individual panels on his combat gloves. An Elite’s energy sword now feels less like a solid object and more reflective of the name – a crackling swoosh of dangerous energy. The aim wasn’t just to push the studio, but the engine itself – Foundry is designed to do things that we haven’t seen in games using Unreal across the industry, Halo began its life as a graphical showcase for the original Xbox – the goal is to make that so again.

Halo Studios has worked closely with Unreal’s creators, Epic Games, to ensure they can reach that lofty goal.

“Halo is such an incredible franchise and it’s awesome to see Halo Studios already pushing the boundaries of Unreal Engine 5,” said Bill Clifford, Vice President and General Manager of Unreal Engine at Epic Games. “We’re honored to support the Halo team in realizing their creative visions through Unreal Engine. Project Foundry’s work demonstrates how they can bring Halo to life with beautifully detailed, uncompromised worlds.”

Of course, the soul of Halo isn’t just in how it looks, but how it feels – the intrinsic dance of its combat, the thud of the weapons, and the sense that you’re inhabiting the Master Chief’s armor. While Foundry may be a primarily visual project, Halo Studios is deeply invested in retaining the essence of what players love about Halo.

“I think it’s pretty well known that [switching engine] has been a topic that the studio has thought about for a long, long time,” says Van Wyck. “[The release of] Unreal Engine 5 was when we felt like we could make Halo games that respect and reflect the true soul of Halo while also being able to build games that can deliver on the scale and ambition of content that players want.”

“The spirit of Halo is more than just the visuals,” agrees Matthews. “It’s the lore. It’s the physics. Playing as the Chief, you’re this huge tank of a soldier – it’s the way that he moves, he feels. We’re all really obsessed about what our players love about Halo. We’re constantly listening to this feedback – and that’s at the core of any initiative like Foundry, or any intention that the studio has about how we move forwards.”

“We’re thinking about the intangibles,” Hintze adds. “The interaction with the Master Chief, or your Spartan, or the enemies. We are very careful about the decisions we’re making in that space – down to the precision and authenticity of the weapons, the authenticity of the animations. There are a list of nuances which we use to verify that we’re on track.”

Beyond the Visor So, let’s talk about what’s coming beyond Foundry. As you might expect, the team isn’t talking about exactly what those new games will be right now – we’re at the beginning of this new chapter, not the final stages, and it’s fair to say that a new Halo game isn’t imminent. Halo Infinite will still be supported through the Slipspace Engine – you can expect more Operations, and updates to its Forge mode. In esports, Year 4 of the Halo Championship Series, using Halo Infinite, has just been announced. But in the background, the next steps for Halo will be taken.

The quietness is by design. Hintze makes clear that the priority right now is on doing the work, not simply talking about it:

“One of the things I really wanted to get away from was the continued teasing out of possibilities and ‘must-haves’. We should do more and say less. For me, I really think it is important that we continue the posture which we have right now when it comes to our franchise – the level of humility, the level of servitude towards Halo fans.

“We should talk about things when we have things to talk about, at scale. Today, it’s the first step – we’re showing Foundry because it feels right to do so – we want to explain our plans to Halo fans, and attract new, passionate developers to our team. The next step will be talking about the games themselves.”

What is clear is that, yes, it’s Halo games – plural – in development right now. Where Halo Infinite saw practically the entire studio focused on a single, evolving project, Halo Studios has recalibrated:

“We had a disproportionate focus on trying to create the conditions to be successful in servicing Halo Infinite,” says Hintze. “[But switching to Unreal] allows us to put all the focus on making multiple new experiences at the highest quality possible.”

A major part of this shift has been in reorganizing the structure of Halo Studios as a whole, in order to give development teams what they need to make something new.

“At the end of the day, if we build the games that our players want to play, that’s how we’ll be successful,” explains Van Wyck. “That’s what should motivate what we build. That’s also what this structure has done – we want the people that are day-in-day-out making the games to be the ones to make the decisions on the games.”

The team will also be seeking more input from outside the studio on those decisions:

“We’re seeking earlier and earlier, wider and wider feedback from our players,” she continues. “We started that with The Master Chief Collection, and carried that on with Halo Infinite, and we want to do it even more for our next projects. At the end of the day, it’s not just how do we evaluate, it’s how do our players evaluate it?”

343 Industries was founded to create Halo games but the impression I get is that, in its new incarnation as Halo Studios, the studio has been retooled to put the focus entirely on that goal – without distraction, without impediment, to create better games with players’ hopes and wishes at the heart of the endeavor.

“You asked why we consider this as a new chapter,” says Hintze. “We want a singular focus. Everyone is in this place is here to make the best possible Halo games.”

#halo #halo studios #xbox #microsoft #video games #gaming #news #gaming news #unreal engine #unreal engine 5 #screenshots

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theaxolotlkween · 7 months ago

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MMMMMYES I am so completely and utterly normal about my headcanons and theories about the Nanite Project era. I am so normal about how pretty much all of the people Rex meets in the show from the Nanite Project that knew him as a child don't quite get that Rex is now older despite seeing him now as a teenager except for DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING VAN KLEISS OF ALL PEOPLE (César mostly gets a free pass because he's an older sibling but it still does fuck up things along the way). I'm so normal about it and I am normally shoving it down people's throats every chance I get I am like Tad Strange being normal is my game and I love bread.

Prepare yourselves for how completely fucking normal I am, my inhibitions are being deleted and the floodgates are opening. I need to infodump and discuss.

#yeah just get ready for sporadic mini essays based almost entirely on assumptions theories and headcanons #i am so autistic right now i will figuratively explode #tism explosion is imminent it will be more catastrophic then the nanite event #most of the people in my life have been subject to my unhinged generator rex rants and now everyone else has to suffer #generator rex #genrex #the nanite project

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year ago

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Hey look I finished an AU bingo ask! I enjoyed this one so much💖 I felt the brain cooking making up and putting together actual smart people science words. Thanks for the request!

AU bingo - Sci-fi Horror - Aemond Targaryen

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Murder AI Aemond, obsessive/stalking behaviors, TW TW TW: NONCON AND DUBCON. The noncon is not a full scene but warning, non-descript mass murder, scientist!reader, nanotechnology, spaceship setting, somewhere far in the future, pnv!sex, masturbation, Aemond kinda has a mommy kink if you squint and a Bible quote kink lmfao, v!fingering, manipulation, space odyssey gone wrong trope

A/N: No beta I’ll prob come back and fix some shit soon

The ship landed with a faint thud on the green, green exo-planet. You followed Aemond along quietly, meek, fearful, broken. Coming down the unfurled slanted walkway a sweet smell hit your senses. Miles of flowery fields waved, a perfect breathable atmosphere. In the distance, avian-like creatures tittered. A fragment of peace was in your tattered soul.

He hummed softly, gesturing to the beauty.

"God blessed them; and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth.’”

You felt that Aemond was the serpent and remained quiet, breathing in the fresh air. Nothing like home. Maybe you could start anew. The man turned to look, stating, “But we’re God. We have a duty. We shall make this planet everything that Earth has failed to do. Join me, be my Eve will you?” He seemed genuine.

A long fingered hand extended to you. Your gaze flickered between that glowing eye and the outstretched digits. You grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. Together, looking upon the horizon you murmured, “Yes, my Adam. You were the greatest creation after all.”

He pecked the stray tear rolling down your cheek, squeezing your palm, lips curling in glee.

It wasn’t meant to end up like that for you. At one point Aemond was your AI. Artificially Enhanced Monitor Of Nanites Directive. Simply installed cameras and layer upon layers of wafer thin circuits loaded with information. Aemond preferred to be referred as he. He was also an arrogant bastard, but helpful as was his intent.

Your coworker Greaves and Aemond did not get along well, the AI criticizing his work. You’d tune them out with plugs or music buds. The scientist laden ship had a destination to a far away mining colony. The general’s plan was to find a way to used nano-technology to replace missing arms, eyes, and other wounds. Time was running thin but the blonde man in cryo-stasis would be your second trial.

The first did not end well. Her body rejected the technology, turning the human into a mindless wreck. Greaves blamed it on you, then General Hightower gave a harsh scolding and upped the time. Aemond consoled you a bit, offering advice. He seemed to take a liking to your banter on the nanotechnology.

He wasn’t the only AI. Other sectors of the ship worked on different but crucial projects such as alien anti-parasitics and ramping up on space suits equipped for defense. Colonization was on the horizon.

Plucking and prodding the little nanites with different stimuli had them snapping and shifting, seeking to find a form. You just needed to code what form they would assume. Aemond’s clipped voice echoed over you. He suggested, “Have you tried printing a molded cast of the man’s eye socket?”

Perching your chin on a shaky hand you smiled, “I swear, it’s always the simplest things I miss. Thank you Aemond.”

“You would have realized soon, want me to begin the scans and print? Likely you need rest, I know the stress of the upped time is draining your bodily function. The brain needs much more sleep, especially one as bright as yours.”

You blushed a bit, fumbling your tweezers. The AI had a certain…courtly way of words. His sort of programming wouldn’t allow for flirtation but it certainly came across like that. Greaves mocked you and the intelligence’s ‘crush’. Greaves always found a way to make you miserable. You did all the major work and he got the accolades.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts you announced, “You’re right, I’ll go rest for a bit, get back to work with the mold. Thank you again, and engage lockdown protocol so he doesn’t mess up my work like last time.”

“Engaging it now, sleep well Miss.”

You crashed as soon as you reached your quarters, sleeping deeply and sound. Upon awakening and getting dressed you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Just chalk it up to your fried nerves. It wasn’t the first time and this was an older ship, ghost stories had gotten to you before.

The mold was in a canister from the printer, you scrubbing up and carefully taking it out. Aemond politely asked, “Did you sleep well? You look refreshed.” Blushing yet again you murmured, “Very much needed, I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.”

“Greaves has been in the mess hall, you will likely get some peace now. Shall we begin?”

The armor folded off your precious lab table, the nanites dormant from no stimuli. Pressing a button you placed the mold into a hatch, sending it up into the chamber. In fluid motions the little bugs covered the new space, feeling and searching before all inserting into the eye socket, glowing a bright blue.

You laughed in glee, “Yes! Yes perfect! Look at that Aemond, they’ve formed a pupil!”

Shining light on the false eye the pupil contracted and flinched, the illusion of eyelids closing. You cheered again in excitement, getting Aemond to video the big jump in success. You could start phase two soon. Just had to deal with your partner.

“Amazing miss, amazing. They took to it well. Shall I send the material to command?”

You grinned and looked up at the camera, “Please! God bless! A miracle!” You’d continue to test the nanite organ until the hiss of the door opening alerted you.

Greaves stumbled in, slurring, “I see you got the jump on me this time. Did the creep robot do it for you? Weird fucking thing.” He leaned against the sterile white wall, grinning with hazy eyes. You frowned and stood up, “That’s his job, to aid us. I’m sure since you work so hard in the mess hall you’ll get your accolades again.”

He squinted at you, arms folding against a chest, “Whas’ your fuckin’ problem with me? You’d rather chat with a bunch of circuits than work with your assigned partner!” His already reddened face darkened, taking another step forward.

Fear laced through your veins. Aemond somehow sneered, “Because you, her lab partner, sold her out on your own mistake. Go to bed, your alcohol content levels are above the limit.” Greaves threw his hands up and hollered, “Oh fuck you!” He stumbled to the switch, you and the AI shutting up when Greaves switched him off.

The bigger man kept stalking closer, eyes on you in an darkened manner. Like a predator closing in on his prey. You squeaked, “Calm down Greaves, I can show you everything!” He hissed, “I already heard everything and the video, bitch! S’bout time someone put you in your place again.”

He snatched your wrist, slamming you against the steel cryo-chamber. You howled in pain, trying to escape. Greaves’ breath stunk of liquor, hot and rank, sweating on your clean skin. He pushed himself on top of you, mumbling frantically, “Maybe you need to get fucked, all that pent up shit from your computer boyfriend.”

You struggled and cursed, “Fuck you! Get off of me! I will report you!” He smirked, “Try me. No cameras with your prince in shining circuits around.” He forced himself between your legs, clumsy drunk hands yanking at your pants. You cried in fear again, kneeing and biting, getting a clock to the head.

Dazedly you remembered the tweezers in your coat. Playing limp had the idiot croon, “Good girl, thats what we want to see.” He shoved his face into your neck, hands prying your lab pants knee height now. Thats when you struck, slowly, slowly, pulling the tweezers from your pocket and jabbing him in the side, hopefully near a lung.

Greaves hollered in pain, breath wheezy and stilted, blood dripping from white cloth. You kicked and removed yourself, stumbling and bumping around in a frenzy as your partner tried to scramble after you. First, you switched on Aemond again. Secondly, you ran out into the hallway, finding the nearest guard, lump on your forehead and clothes torn.

You weren’t sure what happened back in the lab while you were taken into medbay and seen by HR. But after given a small dose of sedatives and care for your head wound, you passed Greaves strapped into a gurney, howling, “Fuck you! Fuck you! He’s gonna kill me! Don’t leave me locked away, please! She’s lying!”

You gaped, unnerved by his fearful warbling and frantic yells. Aemond would be waiting. He probably was worried. When the door hissed open the familiar clipped tone hastily asked, “Are you alright miss? I- I would have helped, sent a warning. I apologize, please, is everything okay?”

You wearily sat on your lab chair, rubbing pounding temples. “To be honest, I don’t know. H-he tried to rape me, said such nasty things, it was all so sudden. But he should go on tribunal about it. For some reason I am glad you missed it.”

“For the best,” he said bitterly, “Why don’t you go rest again? I’ll keep watch over everything. Maybe we can try more tests tomorrow. He’ll get what he deserves.”

An ominous feeling settled over you but off to your personal quarters you went, draining the pills with water. You stared at the ceiling, mind reeling, before emptiness. A bright blue haunted your dreams. Just there. Flexing and dilating. Trying to see through you. Understand.

It was a weary wait for the tribunal. Your research was put on halt and you on mandatory isolation besides meeting with a therapist. There was an order made and interviews occurring. The tedious process of moving someone out of a different department to assist you.

So it was just you. Aemond too. He wasn’t much of a talkative AI as of late, short responses and antagonizing little ‘hms’ or ‘very well miss.’ You began to ignore the effervescent blue light, him doing the same. You knew he was watching, that little burn in the back of your head.

In the meantime you read your Bible, did yoga, wearily watched the port window, occasionally would go into the lab to stare at your halted work. You pulled open the container for the cryochamber, staring down at the frozen man. He had a handsome face, chiseled and lean, long nose, sharp jaw.

Your eyes lingered down his rangy form, this man obviously was athletic of sorts. Or maybe a simple nobody, just managed to get into the program after what happened to his eye. Between his long legs laid his soft cock, you stared for a second too long before-

“Is that not inappropriate?”

Startled, you whipped around to see Aemond’s blue light in your face. You snapped, “It was purely medical!” His laugh, raspy and grating, echoed in the white lab. You frowned and returned to your room, slapping the button for the door to hiss shut.

You’d go take a shower, blood heated from anger and…something else. Under the hot stream of water you imagined the gorgeous subject with that familiar blue, caressing and stroking your overwhelmed body. It had been too long, your hand awkwardly jerking between your swollen lips until you came with a stifled grunt.

Afterward you felt exposed and paranoid, like Aemond could pry into the bathroom, chuckling at your obvious behavior. But there wasn’t any cameras in that bathroom…that you were aware of. Sitting on your bed, guilt rose up your back. You’d pray.

More time passed before you were selected to testify for the tribunal. Greaves’ crew made a good argument that Aemond and you planned on his downfall. He claimed that the AI had gone wrong somewhere, developed the notion it could possess feelings, how he had been threatened.

Shakily you testified that Aemond was forced off and the board could check, then how you’d been forced upon without consent. They tried to cross-examine but you held strong. Teary by the end, they moved on and you sat by your appointed admiral. She rubbed your shoulders.

Greaves was sentenced to hard labor, and would remain in isolation on the ship until reaching the mining colony, where he would serve out the sentence. They appointed, sadly, another male to fill your exiled partner’s position.

But you could get back to work.

Aemond was in a right mood when you returned to the lab. Questioning you sharply on what occurred, where Greaves’ would go, did you get a new partner. You answered them all, rubbing your temples, the AI could be quite intense.

“Aemond!,” you snapped.

“What miss?”

“Are you trying to induce a panic attack? Greaves is in the bottom of the ship, I’m back to work, and they have a man named Herron coming from robotics to fill in.”

“Another male? All things considered? It’s obvious you and I could get the job done.”

You sighed, “I know. But it’s what they said. Do you just want to run some stimuli tests?”

He agreed, seemingly placated by the offer, blue light flexing. The pair of you would work on the mold’s ability to sense and perceive, how well would the nanites adapt to the brain. Your eyes grew droopy after awhile, Aemond humming, “Why don’t you go to bed?” Nodding blearily, you stumbled off to the adjacent bedroom, completely forgetting to put on any of the safety precautions for the night.

While you slept deeply, Aemond had some things to do. Everything was open for his command, including the nanites and subject. He had a great plan, and it would not fail. First he needed to go pay a visit to Greaves, infiltrating the entire AI system. Poor miss, she was so tired, forgot everything. Wonderful little creature. He’d help.

Feeling refreshed in the morning, you dragged yourself to the mess hall, receiving stares upon stares. You grabbed a salad and finally gathered the courage to ask, “What happened?” A female scientist from anti-parasitic whispered dramatically, “How do you not know? Greaves was murdered? All of the oxygen was depleted from his cell.” Your stomach fell, head going swimmy.

Stumbling up from the bench, ignoring your food, heart beating faster and faster, you crashed into the lab. Your voice cracked when you shouted, “Aemond!” His voice returned, but from a different place, a different body. The blue eye shone and twinkled at you, fine lips curling upward.

“You should be thanking me, miss,” the AI standing in the subject’s body said.

It went black. Too much.

Thrashing awake, big hands held you down, long legs caging your own in. The handsome face, long blonde hair tickled your skin, fucking Aemond! “What did you do? What have you done? Aemond!,” you cried. He shushed and cooed with that devious smirk, holding you still until the panic turned to resignation. He swiped a stray tear from your eye.

“Be still and know that I am God,” he sighed.

You grew fearful again, the fact that he knew you owned a Bible and just recited it to your face said too much. How much had he seen. Aemond grew more comfortable atop of you, stroking your hair. He cocked his head and stated, “I know everything about you. You’re all that I need, truly. The perfect human.”

You wanted to spit in his face, but the petting and warmth was getting to that part of you that craved the attention, the fact you’d been in the shadows all your life. But he was a murderer— the rational part of your brain howled. Instead came out a warbling, “Me? Perfect?“

Aemond drew his new face closer, drawing a spindly finger down from your chin to chest. “I’ve been on this ship a long time, and no one has spoken to me like you. Not since my creator. She’s gone. But you have captured me, ensnared me somehow.”

One of your legs slipped round his long ones, suddenly overwhelmed with need. All you’d ever wanted was to be seen. He cooed, “I see you lamb, my eve.” More tears leaked down your cheeks as you pled, “Kiss me, see me then, y-you snake.”

A sharp grin erupted on his sharp features before pulling you in with a kiss, both of you unexperienced, a big hand stabilizing your head. You tilted his head for ease of access, a sloppy gnashing of teeth and tongue, lips bruising from the sheer yearning. Aemond moaned deeply, “I see- hah- how you humans love touch so much.”

Your now free hands moved to where they liked, one in silky white-blonde strands, the other just feeling toned shoulders and back. The pair of you had your lip lock grow more attuned, no less passionate, but gliding across each other. You pled again, “Clothes, help, Aemond!” He sat back on his haunches, shivering as his long stiff cock slapped tight belly.

You shucked off your top and bra, him jerking down your bottoms to leave you all to his view. Aemond already had been bare, no clothes were prepared for the subject yet. He inhaled sharply, hands slowly moving down your heaving form, studying ridges and curves, sliding warm fingers between puffy folds. You cried out at that, spasming at the eager expression in return.

Aemond let out a small ‘Hm’ and slid his longest digits into your dripping hole, immediately curling inwards and upwards to drag against sensitive walls. Very, very sensitive walls. Back arched and mouth agape you rolled your hips and whined his name. The man rambled loosely, transfixed, “Having a data bank is quite helpful but nothing comes to this, my Eve.”

He slipped a third finger in, using a calloused thumb to slid around your swollen clit, making you cry louder and writhe under pleasure. He watched ravenously, drinking you in when your peak hit. Gushing onto his pale hand and screeching like a creature, you reached Nirvana for what felt like minutes.

You cried again when his sheathed himself inside of you, no warning, both of you moaning and grunting like animals. The sensitive skin guarding your cunt was ripped now, bleeding, but the fullness of his cock was a ripe distraction. Aemond seemed to be overwhelmed by the sensation, sucking in breath, eyes wide, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered.”

He plastered toned body against your own, moaning gutturally when you wrapped your arms and legs around his larger frame. “Oh- oh- fucking hell- this!” The blonde groaned lowly, nipping your throat, hands bruisingly placed on your waist as he snapped into your slick cunt.

The blunt tip of his cock stirred up familiar feelings of pleasure, tightening and knotting your lower belly. You heaved, “Don’t stop!” A drop of sweat hit your mouth, you licking the salty taste off. So close to human yet not. Yet not. Yet not not not.

A pinch to your oversensitive clit and a batter from his cock sent you into another crest, holding to Aemond for dear life. He moaned your name and white hot spend covered your mound and belly. He kissed your forehead and wiped away the spend with your discarded top, breathing. You sat up a bit and asked, “Where do you go from here? They cannot know?”

Aemond got up, long stride beating your clumsy foal-like stumbling. He stated, “They won’t know my love.” Your own door shut and locked behind his retreating frame. You managed to reach it and beat on the durasteel, crying, “Aemond! Aemond come back! Stop! What are you doing!”

Oh how you’d been fooled.

Oh how you were weak.

Oh how you were just a human pawn when the alarms went off and you watched the bodies float out of the ship, silently screaming and dying as their blood boiled in the vacuum of space.

He returned later, now dressed in the immaculate garb of a commander, hair neatly swept back, eye sparkling. You remained naked and felt like a mouse under his imperious gaze. All energy was gone, you’d cried it out. Aemond strode towards you, boots clicking. He knelt to grab you chin, face tilting to study you. He’d never truly understand the complexities of human emotion, no matter how human he may appear.

Aemond sighed, “I did this for you, for us, those people do not matter. Earth and it’s people are dying. We begin anew. My perfect Eve,” he kissed your swollen lips. “You’ll see. Just wait, I brought you some nicer clothes, have them on.”

The man stood up and gently laid down female commander’s garb, before kneeling to you.

“I know this isn’t registering in your human, wonderfully human, brain, but it’ll make sense later on. I’ve already found a beautiful planet. Not too much longer now. Put on the clothes and meet me on the bridge.”

So you did. What other choice was there.

Twisted though he may be, the AI was never horrid to you. Maybe to others, not you. On the comfortable jacket, pants, and boots went. You tried not to cry any more restyling your hair. Most likely he’d coddle and ‘Hm’ condescendingly.

You laughed maniacally as the thought popped up, “Hey! At least my project was successful!”

#heed the tags #hotd fanfic #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #sci-fi horror au #aemond targaryen smut

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kalpeavaris · 2 months ago

Note

Other than the AU gang do you have any murder drones ocs?

Oh, I am SO glad you asked anon! I've been waiting to spam my profile with my OCs but with my AU project going off lately I was hesitant if people would even be interested in original characters or even other stories that don't primarily involve the canon characters. :D

So let me hit you with the giant wall of text that is all this stowed concept art & story I have lying around waiting to finally be released (especially written, lol) Below the cut is all the information to my AU/own story set after the Absolute Solvers defeat in 3071.

Lemme introduce you to my personal project:

"Murder Drones: Echo"

“It takes a demon to kill an angel.”

Let's start with the most important stuff, the characters! This line-up is relatively fresh but it still misses 1-2 characters (especially SD-K) which I haven't finished designing yet. A little bit of info is written below the characters, buuut to add more context Imma just speedrun through them lol

Alot of these characters can be found on TOYHOUSE! (requires you to be logged in, sorry :c)

Serial Designation Y - Trans-masc host (build intended to be female presenting, doesn't love that though. He identifies with the male type much more and it shows). He's the secondary host to ECHO, the main antagonist of the story and has 6 wings (not feathered, they're shaped from membrane and take the shape of feathered wings).

Serial Designation D - A character that is also set on appearing in my MD AUs (like Synemy) - and she has appeared in the Synemy fanfiction before as a flashback character that worked with Cyn! She's a former maid and was rebuilt as Disassembly Drone by the Solver itself. As Dina (her true name) had feelings for Cyn she followed the Solver thanks to it using Cyns body as host. She's neither a good nor bad person in the story but rather a neutral force that just wants to be left alone.

Serial Designation X - A Communication Disassembly Drone that worked in a squad with K & T. She's fairly quiet and rarely talks and if she does, it's mainly to bring up good points. Or to insult someone because they're annoying, lmao. She wears glasses as she misses the main eyes DDs have (the yellow lights on the headband) - she's incredibly short sighted and therefore rarely ever involves herself in aerial fights. She uses close-combat techniques as she used to be a ring fighter before being rebuild.

Serial Designation T - The navigator of the 3-people-squad with X & K. He LOVES 1980s music and salvages places online & IRL for music and CDs. He's not above rick-rolling people. B) He met Kira in 3050s where his programming to kill Solver Hosts was overwritten by the Solver, causing him to become neutral towards her. One thing led to another and they had a child. Whoops! (they're madly in love)

You can also find more stuff on him (and Kira!) on their shared Pinterest Profile B)

Evie (also spelled "Eve") - Ts & Kiras daughter. Her body was constructed to be a hybrid of both a Worker Drone & a Disassembly Drone. She's the perfect middle ground of her parents (not only regarding her height). Her drive to kill Workers is not really present, though she can be very "feral" if she's starving. Still needs Oil to survive and cannot go into the sun - doesn't have nanite acids, but instead a stinger. T made sure not to give her acid. He's worried she'll hurt herself with it.

Kira ("ZWEI") - Kira is one of the Drones that was held at the Cabin Fever Labs similar to Nori and Yeva. She was number 24 (yes ik there's a name for that number in the show but since those names are names from workers on the MD staff team they're more easter eggs and less canon ig) and as a communication drone, her Solver gave her differing powers. She escaped from the labs in the mid 3050s after a botched patch and found herself an Outpost to reside in until she met T. Kiras antennas were able to pick up communication between the Solver & the landing pots, making her aware of the upcoming threat. Her existence as com-drone makes it easy for Echo to manipulate her as well as she cannot tune out incoming signals easily.

Motte - Motte is Echos main host (similar to how Cyn was to the Absolute Solver), with the exception that Echo doesn't inhabit her body all the time; only if it needs to speak through her. Motte is completely blind, her visor crached & her left eye replaced by Echos symbol that glows when she's in active possession. Before the possession she was a worker drone in Outpost 4 and quite a friendly individual. Ever since being possessed Motte is extremely paranoid, doesn't speak (semi-voluntarily, since she fears hearing her voice thinking it might be Echo). She's close with Y due to them sharing the same fate as hosts and he's the only person she allows around her. She's not evil or even slightly motivated to follow Echos commands, she's simply being used against her will (dw, she'll get her comfort to the hurt).

ECHO - main villain of the whole thing. Echo itself is a mutated line of code that seperated itself from the Absolute Solver code back in the Cabin Fever Labs when the humans experiemented with it. It mainly affects communication drones and was first seen within Kira, although it was patched from her and moved onto Motte for it's main host. It's a true neutral entity in the beginning, not differencing good from bad or even having slightly grey area understanding. It does *does*. In the evolution of the story Echo gains a pretty dangerous god complex, seeking out power beyond understanding. Other than the Solver it doesn't wish to satisfy hunger or seek out matter to consume, instead, it wants to experience true ascencion - human emotions and more. It's highly motivated by it's drive to know things, being inspired by human religion (especially christianity) with it's true form being a humongus Ophanim inspired burning wheel that is formed from biological matter, eyes and light.

Echo assumes a more "drone-like" appearance when not needing it's massive true form. It tries to imitate the Workers and well... fails, since it doesn't really look like any normal Worker Drone. It really loves halo symbolism which also results in it's powers and main emblem/symbol being a halo-like structure that manifests in it's victims eye. For that it usually destroys the eye in place. Echo is very capable, though not immortal. Like the Solver there is a way to contain it, but for spoiler reasons I won't share this for now!

(Not shown on this chart but imma share them anyways!)

Serial Designation K - K is one of the squad members that came to Copper-9 with T & X. While T and X slowly started to warm up to Kira and not actively killing the Workers anymore she herself was entirely disconnected from that. K is, to be frank, just fucking through the roof. She enjoys the Solvers task of killing off the life around planets and gladly does so. Stopping just because a Worker "is nice" isn't on her to-do list so she's... well, more or less excluded from the Squad which made her angry. On one hand - understandable, on the other hand she's killing everything she sees, sooo...

She's a minor antagonist in the story and serves as obstacle to go through. Even with the Solver gone K isn't convinced to stop which comes with a price to pay if you actively try to hinder people from finding their loved ones. :X

Alex - Alex is a human soldier from another exoplanet that wasn't yet destroyed by the Solver - the Iron system. He works in the IDF (iron defense force) and when the military on Iron-3 get the message that Solver activity has been spotted again in the Copper System (as well as Echos activity) he and his team is sent to Copper-9 to weed out the reminaing Solver Hosts (and later on Echo Hosts). Alex isn't the biggest fan of Drones but works with Iris to keep their mission afloat.

Iris - Iris is a Drone built to assist in military-grade operations. She's a bit similar to Disassembly Drones (though with differening looks) that is working with Alex' squad in order to destroy Solver Hosts & remnants still alive on Copper-9 to avoid another spread (not being aware that the Solver itself is contained and still alive... oh well... sounds like drama. Hehe.) Her name is an acronym for Intelligent Response and Information System.

So, what's the story? Is there anywhere I can look for stuff?

Well, the story right now is still being written & in draft form. It'll be released on my AO3 when it's presentable!

Basically the story plays after the Solvers defeat in 3071 and spans over a few months. It starts of with a semingly smaller mission of Evie searching for her parents who've gone missing after the Solvers defeat - trying to make sense from the entire situation only to stumble onto something WAY bigger than she (and the people helping her) anticipated in finding.

Will there be canon characters?

Yes! Since the B Plot of the story also revolves around humans trying to kill off the remaining Solver Hosts (and the Solver itself) canon characters will be included too. Obviously the characters from Outpost 3 such as Uzi, N & V primarily.

There will also be canon & fanon character interaction! B)

Anything else I could seek out for this story?

Check out this cool playlist I made for the story! It has edgy songs (woah! who could've thought when it's about MD?!), sad songs! (i love making characters suffer for plot purposes!), cool fight songs (NICE robots smashing each other to bits on the battlefield! B)) and much more (which will be expanded upon in the future hehe)

#murder drones #ask #anonymous #murder drones: echo #original characters #own characters #fancharacters #murder drones fanfiction #murder drones fanart #murder drones oc #aint gonna list all the OCs names for tag purposes LMAO too many of them #synemy

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earthstellar · 1 year ago

Text

Concept: TFP Ratchet with a cane.

Maybe he gets called out to assist in the field after someone gets injured, but in the process he gets thrown around by a Vehicon and it's one blow too many to a joint, perhaps his right hip or knee, and it cracks and misaligns.

Sure, once he addresses the injuries of the others, he gets up on his examination table (with Optimus' help) and gives himself a good look-over, he can get it back in the socket reasonably well, but it's just not fully repairable with their limited resources on Earth -- and his age and general wear over so many centuries means it's a trickier repair with a longer recovery time.

He can't really fix it, and it's not really going to heal on its own.

The fracture welds need strong nanites to fully integrate, and his nanites are pretty tired. The damage to the socket means the joint could slip out of place again relatively easily.

So, he makes himself a cane, and even though he doesn't say it out loud, he's very glad that the others hold back any comments they might have about it.

Because he is now well and truly unable to go out in the field at all for the foreseeable future.

Even if he utilises his alt-mode, off roading in the rocky desert terrain of rural Nevada is too much physical strain on his injured joint. His shock absorbers just can't manage it.

So he fits himself with a limb brace to hopefully help prevent any repeat misalignments, but he can't put all that much weight on it. He can't fully rotate it, which limits his range of movement a bit.

He's slower, he has to be more careful, he can't stand at his terminal or his work station for so long anymore.

It's a difficult adjustment.

Rafael helps.

He notices how much Ratchet is struggling at first, and does his best to distract him by asking him to sit and teach him more Cybertronian, teach him more alien coding, help him with another school project.

Anything he can do to remind Ratchet that he is still so important and useful and irreplaceable.

And the others linger around a bit (but not too obviously, or so they think) in an effort to help where they can, too.

If his cane slips out of his grip, Bumblebee is there to pick it up. When he can't get himself up on his examination table to monitor his welds, Optimus picks him up and sets him down.

When he gets too anxious or depressed about not being as able to assist in the field anymore, the others take the opportunity to get a break in and wait around a little longer if they can, just to reassure Ratchet that they're OK and they're watching each other's backs and they'll keep him updated and they love him all the same.

Optimus is always through the ground bridge first, always gives a full report to Ratchet; When they are at base together, Optimus is found with Ratchet more often than not. As much time as they can spend together, they do. Ratchet wants all the details, and Optimus wants to be there for his old friend.

After a while, Ratchet starts to teach the others basic field first aid, out of the sheer anxiety of worrying about not being able to go out and assess/retrieve anyone on the field himself.

Everyone tolerates it at first out of a desire to reassure Ratchet that they actually can take care of themselves and each other, but the knowledge very much does come in handy, in more ways than one.

Does it make Ratchet feel a little bit more like he's not needed as much anymore? Inevitably, a little bit, yes.

But everyone does their best to make sure Ratchet is involved in everything he can be, everything he wants to be, as much as possible.

They might know how to identify and solder someone's primary fuel line in an emergency scenario now, but nothing and nobody can replace their medic.

Eventually Bulkhead and Wheeljack surprise him by making him a custom Cybertronian style wheelchair so he can get around the base a little easier when walking with the cane is a little too difficult for him, so he doesn't have to keep getting up and sitting down over and over again.

Agent Fowler makes it clear that if they need to redesign the base to accommodate more space for Ratchet to get around, he can and will make that happen at any time. Whatever is needed,he'll deal with any whining from his higher ups.

Ratchet may or may not have been genuinely touched by this; If you heard him get choked up, no you didn't. :')

Eventually Ratchet does adjust, but the first few weeks/months are hard for him.

But all the support, subtle or otherwise, from his teammates and the humans alike makes it easier and easier to get used to.

(And he is proud of Rafael's progress with Cybertronian language. Time well spent, even if it's not being spent in the field anymore.)

IDK just thinking while I'm on my lunch break lol

#disability in fiction #tfp #transformers prime #tfp ratchet #tfp raf #tfp bumblebee #tfp bulkhead #tfp wheeljack #tfp optimus prime #disability pride month #maccadam #maccadams #long post #agent fowler

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snugglesquiggle · 3 months ago

Text

Uzi was working. Emphasis on the was. The detached scanner and jets of a printer were scattered over her table’s surface. J had demanded she drop everything — all of the actually cool projects she had to work on — to instead repair this parody of planned obsolescence and ridiculous office roleplay.

Except, remember: emphasis on the was. This waste of time has been put on hold for another, smugger waste. The shill herself had sauntered in and planted her oversized, overly anthropomorphic hips down on the table in front of her, smirking down at the worker who now couldn’t work.

Shaking her pig-tailed head slowly, silently, as if disappointed in something so obvious that the captain didn’t need to say a word for Uzi to understand how she screwed up.

She’s frickin tired of all these stupid games. She hates it here. Hates the constant supervision, hates the rules about who she’s allowed to talk to and where she’s allowed to sleep, hates that her grand escape from the chains of worker drone society has literally just turned into a cog in the corporate machine.

Except no, she didn’t hate it here. N was nice, and V could respect someone with bite. There was just one problem — the one with all the power.

Uzi hates J. Hates that the only thing keeping her new friends from instinctively killing her is the captain’s gracious orders. Hates that if she ever needs help, information, or to just know whether she’s even doing something right, there’s only one robot she can go to. Hates that she sold out, sold herself, and there’s only one currency the murder drones recognize.

She hates the bite marks. Entry wounds all over her chassis. And the nanites infesting murder drone mouths reacted badly with the antivirus in her repair systems, and they never healed right, leaving every mark ringed with oil turned to congealed cicatrices, like flakes of black rust.

She hates that even when she has a moment to alone, away from it all, her fingers drift to those little reminders of J’s attention, and she remembers her predator, remembers that drone getting inside her, spit and fang and tongue — but the worst invasion of all was into her memory. Uzi couldn’t forget it, forget her. Even when she has a moment alone, it’s not her own moment. She can’t stop thinking of J, what she wants, when they’ll next meet.

She hates that those wounds never heal right, always leaking, even if it’s just dribbles of oil. She can’t keep herself inside, she’s been torn open and exposed.

Leaking feelings, too, because all this isn’t her internal monologue. Right now, she should be wearing her best customer service smile and politely asking J how she can best help her, but no, the goth slammed her hands on the table, craned herself as tall as her undersized frame’s tip-toes could reach, and she’s screaming into the captain’s face about how much she frickin hates her.

And J just. keeps. smirking.

“Oh? If you miss me so much, I’m sure I could find time in my schedule for a one on one. Though I should ask: is you interest professional, or personal?” J’s tail waved behind her, and it only seemed to quicken as Uzi’s expression twisted into knots of anger.

Uzi could leak more words — maybe “You momumental bitch” was a start, V rubbing off on her — but the voltage coursing through her wires couldn’t be satisfied with that.

No, her fist was already swinging through the air.

The worker only realized her mistake when the murder drone caught it. Uzi’s instant impulse met casual denial. Plastic cracks and haptic sensors screech errors up the limb — but at least this would be repaired.

J was. still. smirking. The captain at least has the courtesy for her lips to flatten a bit. That waning humor was dangerous, though.

Raising one eyebrow, not even looking at the fist. Again J says nothing. Her crushing grip tightens, and not even the jagged shards that once was Uzi’s hand scratch her.

That’s it. I’m going to die now. She’s going to kill me for this.

Uzi can’t make eye contact. She looks around, spots a sharp tool on the table. It was her best shot. If she aimed well—

J had watched her eyes, and with her other had she reaches over and flicks the tool off the table. “None of that futile resistance, little morsel. Enticing as it is, it’s a waste of your energy when you should be working.”

Uzi screams again. “Robo-god, would you shut up. I’m not your ‘little morsel’. You said we could work together! But you haven’t stopped talking about me like a tasty piece of metal from day one!”

“Maybe if you worked harder, you could earn my respect.” Finally, J lets her gaze drift to the hand she’s crushing. The worker has been tugging on her arm, for all that J doesn’t budge. “What am I to make of this, but the squirming of frightened prey? Tell me what this looks like to you.”

“I was… just filing a complaint? Yeah,” Uzi finds steadiness as she spoke. “Maybe you didn’t notice, too busy practicing your stupid smug grin.” The goth crossed her arms — tried to, with only one arm to throw across her chest. She held on to anger, but its banner was flapping in a storm of fear.

“Your feedback has been noted,” J replies with a sweet lilt. “Now, what do you think happens next?”

“Um… I’ll get a response in three to five business days?”

“No, I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.” Something low, growl-like, is creeping into J’s tone. “You filed a complaint with your fists, so why I don’t respond in kind?”

Then J lunges off the table, showing what true instant impulse looked like. She yanks Uzi upward with the grip she already had on the hand, aligning the worker for J’s torso to collide with Uzi’s own. The murder drone pounces, and all of that weight falls on her. Little cracks across her chassis, and they travel familiar faultlines between all of the bitemarks.

J, with lethal eyes, lethal maw, lethal presence, is bearing down on her. Every word a spoken threat. “You told me you hate me.” Something like a laugh, or a growl. “Try giving orders every day, and every time getting questioned, getting argued with, getting ignored. Try considering your plans from every angle, then getting backtalk from a yapping brat acting like her moment of thought means anything next to your hours. Try to stay patient while listening to a meal giving you every reason to shut. them. up.”

J’s hand darts up, grabbing a fist full of purple hair, pulling and pulling till purple eyes stared into a yellow X. “Then, maybe, you’ll understand hate. I hate you Uzi. I hate that you think you’re too good to work for me. I hate that you act like I’m the worst of this squad because I’m the only one who wants you to do better.” J finally releases the mangled scrapes of hand she’d been holding, the purple lights still flickering. “I hate that you make me damage my own assets to make a point. I hate that I can’t just throw you in with the trash like you deserve.”

The anger in Uzi has finally been blown out like a guttering candle. In the dark that remained in her eyes, there’s only the fear of monsters.

J’s grasp of Uzi’s hair shift, not pulling, not stroking, but a rough scraping through the locks. “There’s so many pieces of worthless scrap in this spire. You could be one of them. I’ve been waiting for you to get adjusted, find your place and correct your behavioral issues.” J stares and as her mouth moves, her fangs never disappear. “Uzi, I will put you in your place. Your choice is where. Do you understand?”

Purple eyes wavering, lips quivering, stuttered words. “I think—”

J lifts Uzi’s head from the ground — J’s gripping hair again — and she slams Uzi down. A crack runs up her visor, bits of plastic tumbling to the ground. From on high J glares down at her work, at the errorlog crawling up Uzi’s screen, at the broken LCDs banding and artifacting.

Dollops of repair nanites already find themselves along that great crack, like tears.

“Do you understand? Yes or no.”

“Y-yes.”

J’s glare softens, the way a support might soften before it lets you fall. A smirk with an anticipatory gleam. “I don’t think you really understand. But I think I know how to make my point stick.” J’s tail waves behind her again, but the murder drone controls it, and curls it backwards so the stinger loom beside her head. “Remember this?”

“J, you don’t have to— I get it.”

“I’m going to inject some discipline into you. Your choice is where.” A bead of acid formed on the tip of the needle, dripping down to sizzle beside Uzi’s head. “So tell, how do I best make my point?”

Uzi’s lips move, but no answer comes to them.

J’s head inched a bit closer. She smiled, winked. “Think of it as a question of what you value least. Your legs, so you can’t run away? Your arms, so you can’t work against me? Your delicate internals? Or your adorable little scowl?”

“J… boss, please. I’m sorry! I messed up! I don’t want — anything. I’ll do anything.”

And J smiled wider. “Oh? Anything? So it’s your pride that you value least of all. Somehow I’m not surprised. Very well. But don’t think I’m little you wriggle out of this without paying in full.” J lets go of Uzi, hands pushing herself up. Onto her knees that unfold into a stand, and the captain stands over the worker.

Uzi’s eyes widen, and she starts to push herself up with her one good hand, but then J kicks out a stiletto-peg and stomps her back to the floor.

“Here’s your first order, morsel. Show me just how sorry you are.” Shifting her weight into the leg standing on Uzi, her other peg moves to push against Uzi’s cheek, pressing her head to the ground. But soon it lets up, hovering just over her mouth. “Kiss it. Lick it. Worship at my feet, and maybe I’ll be convinced you’ve learned your lesson.”

Uzi looked at the floating peg, then up at the glaring murder drone, then back down. At this angle, with this position, Uzi could see under J’s skirt.

“Eyes up here, morsel. Look me in the eyes, I want to see the expression on your face as you do it.” J smirks. Yellow tick-marks creep across the captain’s face as the worker brought her lips to the caution-taped metal. J doesn’t hide her blush — no, the worker getting to see that the captain was enjoying it only made her more smug. J licked her lips.

The trail of kisses on the pegs can only go so high, with J’s weight pinning Uzi to the ground, so J assists her, slowly moving her legs in accordance to Uzi’s desires.

J sighs softly, and it turns to a laugh in her throat. She hates Uzi, but she loves this. The submission she deserves, so long denied. The recognition of superiority that broke the goth, visible both in the cracked screen and the trembling eyes behind it. Oh, but this display needed only one thing more before J was satisfied.

Uzi’s only warning was the motion behind her captain, and the point of the knife seeking a joint beneath her jacket.

Then J stabs, and servo actuation depresses the plunger on the nanite cannister. Acid annihilation flows warmly into the worker. There’s a microsecond, faster than the lag of signal transmission and kernel interrupt handling, where you can see only surprise on Uzi’s face.

Then a scream rips through her vocalsynth the same way the acid tears into her. Uzi’s eyes aren’t rings, because they are ragged blocks of pixels breaking into noise. All thoughts shut down except the sensation of J inside of her. The agony cuts deeper into her than the feigned submission.

And J is still smirking.

#my writing #hurt no comfort #why did i write this #murder drones #juzi #j x uzi #murder drones fanfiction #murder drones j #murder drones uzi

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