#nanite mesh

[artstationable]

Kirill Sinyavin

Level Artist @ Gaijin Entertainment

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[berrydoodleoo]

franfran and esquie (and florrie, soarrie, dorrie, and urrie)

[revelboo]

Hi! Hope you’re feeling better! If you’re feeling up to it could you write some comfort/care for us chronically ill baddies? (I’d love to see predaking, first aid, or tailgate and cyclonus) but any bot of you’re choosing would be cute.

Sure! I tend to be almost perpetually sick- my own fault. I spooked after my old, chill doc retired and the new one wanted to start investigating why my white blood cell counts are consistently either too high or too low and haven’t been to an actual doctor since around 2019 lol (I’m a coward)

Care

Predaking

• Venting affectionately as you just groan at him and pull a pillow over your head when he tries to nudge you awake, he gives in and drags you back into his frame. Freezing as he registers that you’re warmer than normal. Again. Servos sliding against your neck and forehead, before pressing his head against the back of yours. How can you be constantly sick? Even with his nanites fighting a losing battle with your human immune system as you’d called it. “You should just let me bond you,” he growls and you make a soft sound that might be a laugh.

• It’s sweet that he keeps offering, but you don’t have the energy to explain that you want him to bond you because he loves you, not just because he’s trying to ‘fix’ you. It’s silly, but you need the words. And maybe Cybertronians don’t even do ‘I love you.’ You honestly know very little about your giant boyfriend. Except that despite his fierce appearance, he’s so gentle and kind with you. That his laughter is surprisingly loud when you do something he doesn’t expect. That even if the other Decepticons treat him like a dumb animal, he’s perceptive, intelligent, and even almost poetic at times.

• “I’m fine,” you mumble, relaxing into him as your soft fingers find and intertwine with his servos. And Megatron can get over it, because he’s not leaving you when you don’t feel well. Always insisting you’re fine even when you’re not. Resting his chin on top of your head, he vents softly to stir your hair.

• “You know I worry for you, little one,” he growls, shifting to brush his mouth against your jaw and neck. Making you feel loved. Eyes pricking, you’re tempted to just say it. To be vulnerable and let him know you love him. Even if the words mean nothing to him, even if he doesn’t say them back. “You’re my everything. I can’t lose you.”

• And you roll over in his arms, hiding your face against the mesh of his neck as you cuddle into his frame. Sliding a palm up your spine, he swallows a growl. Cares so much for you, would kill for you. But knows he’s not human. That maybe you can’t ever accept him fully because he’s alien. Feeling your breath on him, a thigh sliding against his own, he forces himself to relax. Almost doesn’t hear you softly whisper that you love him against his mesh. Going still, spark aching as his palm splays against your spine. “Say it again,” he growls, the words a plea. Needs to hear you say it again. Feels you huff against him, but you repeat yourself as his arms curl around you until you squirm, complaining that he’s crushing you. “I love you too, little one.”

[askagamedev]

What is your current opinion on Unreal Engine 5? Between Digital Foundry, content creators, and people on social media, everyone appears to be constantly attacking UE5 for performance issues (stuttering, frame rate, etc.). Is this criticism warranted, or is it more a case of developers still getting used to UE5 and its complexities (meaning it will likely improve in time)?

Everything improves with time as the engineers learn the details and optimize their work. This is true of every tech platform ever and won't be any more different with Unreal Engine 5 than it has been with UE4, 3, or anything else. That said... after having very recently worked with UE5 for enough time to get used to some of its foibles and having looked into some core engineering issues in a project utilizing some of the new tech introduced in UE5 (and the caveats and side effects of using that tech), I can say with fair confidence that (some) complaints about the performance issues are definitely warranted. These aren't global to all UE5 projects, but they are major performance issues we ran into and had to solve.

One major issue we ran into was with Nanite. Nanite is the new tech that allows incredibly detailed high poly models, a sort of [LOD system] on steroids. The Entity Component System of the Unreal Engine (every actor is a bag of individual components) allows developers to glom nanite meshes onto just about anything and everything including characters, making it very powerful and quick to stand up various different visuals. However, this also requires significant time spent optimizing that geometry for lighting and for use in game - interpenetrating bits and pieces that don't necessarily need to calculate lighting or normals or shadows unnecessarily add to the performance cost must be purged from those nanite models. Nanite looks great, but has issues that need to be ironed out and the documentation on those issues isn't fully formed because they're still being discovered (and Epic is still working on fixing them). We had major performance issues on any characters we built using nanite, which meant that our long-term goal for performance was actually to de-nanite our characters completely.

Another major issue I ran into was with the new UE5 World Partition system. World Partition is essentially their replacement for their old World Composition system, it's a means of handling level streaming for large contiguous world spaces. In any large open world, you're going to have to have individual tiles that get streamed in as the player approaches them - there's no reason to fit the entire visible world into memory at any given time with all the bells and whistles when the player can only see a small part of it. The World Partition system is supposed to stream in the necessary bits piecemeal and allow for seamless play. Unfortunately, there are a lot of issues with it that are just not documented and/or not fixed yet. I personally ran into issues with navmesh generation (the map layer used for AI pathfinding) using the World Partition that I had to ask Epic about, and their engineers responded with "Thanks for finding this bug. We'll fix it eventually, likely not in the next patch."

Most of these issues will eventually get ironed out, documented, and/or fixed as they come to light. That's pretty normal for any major piece of technology - things improve and mature as more people use it and the dev team has the time and bandwidth to fix bugs, document things better, and add quality of life features. Because this tech is still fairly new, all of the expected bleeding edge problems are showing up. You're seeing those results - the games that are forced to use the new less-tested systems are uncovering the issues (performance, bugs, missing functionality, etc.) as they go. Epic is making fixes and improvements, but us third-party game devs must still ship our games and this kind of issue is par for the course.

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[spreadwardiard]

The Rot (part 2)

Dazed and confused, Orion pax comes online surrounded by rubble. Luckily, he isn't alone. However, that does not mean he's safe.

Part 2 of my 'inspired by MLP infection' AU! I hope y'all enjoy it! Again, big thanks to @lets-try-some-writing for all the help and encouragement!

Part 1 here

The hot, yet soothing tingle of his self-repair system’s nanites tending to the aching wounds of his frame was what finally brought Orion’s processor back online. His awareness floated slowly in and out, only able to sense the slowly ebbing pain signals from his damaged frame. His helm throbbed aggressively if he so much as even attempted a thought. It was reassuring, however, that each time Orion’s awareness floated back to him, he ached a little less and that his thoughts were able to come more freely. 

Where was he? Even without his full processing power, he knew that he was not in the safety of his berth. Accessing his memories did little to answer that question. He recalled Megatronus contacting him about a train, and he could remember that he had indeed left his hab, but beyond that, his memories were still too damaged to retrieve. The only option available was to allow himself to float away once more and allow the nanites time to continue their repair.

When he next came to awareness, it lacked the gentle ebb and flow of before. Rapid flashes of his most recent memories assaulted him in waves: coming online to an unexpected call, Megatronus’ unexpected declaration of affection, his walk to the station, boarding the train… 

His processor throbbed as if it would burst while the emotions tied to his memories crashed into effect: confusion, worry and then fear. Orion’s optics shuttered online just as the panic hit him. He sat rapidly, causing his helm to spin and his optical input to become distorted. 

“Shield your field!” The command was hissed at him with quiet urgency, and Orion clamped down on instinct. He brought his servo to his helm and groaned softly as he rubbed at his closed optics with his palm in a desperate attempt to placate the pain in his processor. 

“What happened?” Orion croaked out softly. Behind him came the soft shuffling of small pedes, and before Orion could even process what that meant, his companion was at his side.

“There’s no time to explain, Can you walk? It isn’t safe here.” Orion reset his optics, and slowly opened them once more, relieved that his inputs were no longer spinning. He was surrounded by broken glass and crumpled sheets of metal, dangerously sharp. Strips of soft mesh cabling dangled from above him, some slowly dripping fluids that he couldn’t identify. 

Orion’s optics finally found his companion. He ex-vented in relief as he was struck with recognition. Ravage observed him with a raised optical ridge, and the look on his face gave Orion the impression that the cassette hadn’t expected him to come online as suddenly as he had. 

“I think so?” Orion whispered through his grimace as he felt the stiffness in his hydraulics as he shifted his weight, to maneuver onto his knees. A flurry of diagnostic pings assaulted his HUD, alerting him to several injuries that were, luckily, non-critical. 

“Good. We need to leave. Now.” It was a command, and one Orion thought almost sounded laced with fear. Ravage darted forward, his cyber-feline frame having no issue ducking beneath what appeared to be the mangled remains of a bench that had been partially ripped from the walls in the crash. 

It wasn’t especially difficult to maneuver his frame through the small space, but it did ache like the Pits to crawl his way through what was left of the compartment. He was dangerously low on fuel, that much was obvious by how exhausting it was to hold his frame and move at such an angle. 

That also explains why my nanites did not complete my self repair. Orion thought as he dragged himself forward through the jagged remains. By the time his helm popped through a crushed window, he was venting heavily, and his arms shook with the strain of holding up his weight.

“Hurry. We don’t have much time.” Ravage paced nervously outside the wreckage, his optics constantly scanning around them. Orion begrudgingly hauled himself free from the shattered window and grimaced as he stood, taking only a klik to allow his optics to adjust to the increased light before following the cyber-feline between two hunks of deformed metal. 

Orion almost couldn’t believe the utter devastation around him. Smashed bits of transport compartments lie crumpled as far as he could see. Mutilated remains of Cybertronians were scattered haphazardly about, some obviously crushed by impact alone, while others looked…. Gnawed at, as if something had consumed them. 

He’d never seen anything like it before, not even on his long deep-dives into the darkest reaches of the data-net. Orion’s tanks churned, hot and sickly sweet, at the thought of what could have done damage like that. Some of those bodies were completely eviscerated… 

Orion focused his optics on Ravage, not wanting to see any more of the surrounding carnage than he had to. This was beyond wrong.  His internal chronometer told him that he had been offline for several cycles, which should have been plenty of time for rescue crews to have saved not only him, but everyone else strewn around. Surely, the Transport Commission would have sent a crew to clean the debris off the tracks. 

It seemed that he and Ravage were the only two living mechs around. But if that were the case, what had Ravage so anxious? It was painfully obvious as Ravage led him through the debris field, zigzagging to stay in the shadows of the rubble, that he was trying to avoid them being seen, but from whom, Orion couldn’t begin to guess. 

It seemed like the rubble stretched forever. The closer they came to the front of the train, the worse everything seemed to be.  Train compartments were smashed against and piled atop each other in such a disordered way that it almost could have been beautiful. If only the place wasn’t littered with corpses and plastered with splattered energon.

“Hey!” A panicked voice called out to the pair, causing Ravage to startle and Orion’s helm to whip towards the source of the sound. A young mech, pinned at the waist beneath a large scrap of steel, waved frantically at them. “Oh! Thank Primus, you’re not one’a them…” He could see the fear that emanated from his optics and the stains of dried optical lubricants painted down his face. 

Orion thought nothing of it. His internal processes immediately flooded him with coding to provide aid. He rushed towards the trapped youngster, ignoring the pings flooding his circuits from his injuries. He wasn’t that far from them. 

“Pax! Stop!” Ravage called out to him in a harsh whisper, his frustration evident in the slight growl lacing his command, but Orion could not heed that request. Not when his coding so persistently urged him to help someone so desperately in need.

“You gotta get me outta here! They’re coming!” A wall of hunger assaulted the archivist’s EM receiver, unlike anything he’d ever felt before: thick, desperate, and driving. Something was coming, that was for sure, and Orion had a feeling that whatever it was, was the same thing that had caused all the carnage he’d been trying to avoid looking at. He had to get him out fast, or he’d be torn apart, just like the corpses littering the whole area. 

A weight slammed into him from behind, sending Orion careening face-first into the ground. Ravage hunched atop his back and hissed furiously into his audials. “There isn’t time, Pax! They’re here! We have to leave him!” 

Orion lifted his helm, anger coursing through his circuits like an inferno. He opened his intake to retort, but was frozen solid in fear when a shambling mech, painted in red and gold, tumbled down from atop the hunk of metal pinning the youngling down, landing with a ground shaking thud. Chunks of his armor were missing from his frame, and Orion immediately recognized the same thick, green goop oozing from his intake and down his front as he saw the drunken mech purge before the crash. 

The youngling screamed as the mech shambled towards him. Ravage jumped, and suddenly was in Orion’s line of sight, their faces nearly touching,

“We have to go now! More will come!” Ravage pushed his entire face against Orion’s aggressively, an obviously desperate attempt to push him up onto his pedes. The youngling’s field erupted suddenly in a hot, sickening burst of panic. “There’s no saving him now, Pax!”

Orion couldn’t remember getting to his pedes. Everything happened so fast. The shambling mech grabbed the youngling by the arm and mercilessly tore at the plating. Another mech, covered in the same putrid ooze, shambled forward from the shadows, and Orion’s processor flooded him with a new command: Run! 

Ravage was two steps ahead of him on that front, and Orion instinctually followed the cassette as he swiftly led them away, even passing more of the shambling, rotting mechs that were hobbling towards the source of the screams. 

The youngling’s field projected his agony and fear of death far beyond the wreckage field, and by the time the screaming stopped, Orion was venting far too heavily to even notice its absence. He ran until the pressure building in his hydraulics overpowered his internal command to flee. 

His HUD flashed red. He was overheating, and his hydraulics couldn’t continue at the brutal pace that his survival coding had forced on him. He had to stop. His frame shook from the overexertion. He couldn’t stop the anguished screams of that mech from playing on loop in his processor. If he’d had any fuel in his tanks, he would have purged it all right then. 

“Snap out of it, Pax. We can’t stop now. We’re almost there.” Ravage’s annoyed whisper broke through his inner turmoil. Ravage was right. He couldn’t afford to stop. Not when those things were out there, likely to follow them once they were finished with-

No! Orion forced the thought out of his processor and forced his legs forward, despite the stinging pressure and pinging diagnostics. He wasn’t ready to return to the Well just yet. He was grateful that Ravage accepted this slower pace that his frame now demanded. 

They were following the tracks. Orion hadn’t noticed when they were running. All he was able to focus on was Ravage and trying to keep up with the far nimbler cyber-feline. He wasn’t even entirely certain how far they ran before he stopped, and he absolutely was not about to turn around and find out. 

When they finally stopped, it was at what appeared to be an empty Emergency Depot. They were scattered relatively regularly along the various strings of transport lines around the planet. Ravage led him inside, and as soon as the door snapped shut behind them, he let out a furious hiss. 

“Don’t you ever do something that slagging stupid again! You almost got the both of us killed!” Orion jumped away from his smaller companion and opened his intake to respond, but Ravage gave him no time to do so. 

“I will not die for you, Orion Pax.  Do you understand me? If you pull something like that again, I will leave you behind! I don’t care if you’re Megatronus’ favorite upper cast plaything. You ain’t worth dying for!” 

It was like the very air was sucked from his vents. Orion deflated, his gaze falling to the floor and his finials lowering. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know” 

Ravage sighed dismissively and flicked his tail. He said nothing for a few kliks, but Orion didn’t want to think about why. He had too many other concerns vying for his attention. His tanks ached with their emptiness, and his frame felt heavier than he’d ever remembered it being. He ached deeply, down to the protoform, and he still had no clue what was going on. Overshadowing all of that was the fear that clawed at his spark and made him wish he’d just slipped into stasis instead of coming online to this nightmare. 

“Frag… you’re a real piece of work, aren’t you, Pax?” Ravage said, but his tone was gentler than before. It made Orion think of when he was a sparkling, annoying his caretakers for attention, which, unfortunately, didn’t make him feel any better in the moment. 

“Megatronus just told me to get on the train. Ravage… is he alright?” The cyber-feline rolled his optics and turned to slink deeper into the building. Orion had no choice but to follow, making sure to close and lock every door they came through, just in case. 

“I don’t know. Comms are down all over. I can’t even contact Soundwave.” Ravage huffed softly at that. “I found this place about 2 cycles ago. There’s some energon rations stashed in the back, and some mediberths if you need to recharge. They, uh… they haven’t come back. They tend to hang around the crash.” 

“The rations taste like scrap, but the packaging says it's nutritionally complete,’ whatever that means.” Ravage shrugged, and hopped up onto a sofa in the dimly lit space that Orion could now see was a lounge of sorts, probably for the mechs who normally were stationed here. 

Orion couldn't care less how the rations tasted. His tanks demanded refueling, and his coding told him that he would feel better all over if only he could get something into his him. He tore into them, devouring one after the other. He hadn’t even realized how hungry he was, or how much his systems had been starving for the power to simply function. It took four entire ration cubes to satiate him. 

The effect struck almost immediately once he lowered his last cube to the floor. His self-repair routines rebooted, and he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge for recharge. He didn’t even try to make it to the mediberths. The lounge sofa was much closer, and right now, it looked like the most comfortable thing on the entire planet. 

Ravage only huffed softly as he hopped down from the sofa, and up onto the adjacent chair, where he curled up in the way that cyber-felines did; curled in a ball with his helm tucked under his tail.

“We can’t stay here.” Orion said, his voice just above a whisper. His processor was fighting against the wave of recharge that was crashing over him, forcing him to think about how close those things really were to them, and mixing those thoughts with how much he wished Megatronus was here… 

��Not for long, no.” Ravage glanced up at him, with a raised optical ridge, his tone dry and tired. Orion tried to keep his optics focused on him. 

“I promised him I would get there.” Orion’s vocalizer started to slur his glyphs, and Ravage tilted his helm and scrunched his optics in confusion. 

“Promised who?” Ravage’s tone said that he really didn’t care. 

“Mega…” Orion’s optics shuttered closed, and he in-vented deeply to quell the anxiety that still bubbled behind the coding trying to force him into recharge. 

The cyber-feline snorted at that and laid his helm back down. 

Orion frowned and forced his optics back open. There was still too much data he needed to understand what was happening around him. 

“What happened to everyone?” 

Ravage sighed at that question, and lifted his helm to meet Orion’s optics once more. 

“Shut up, Pax, and recharge. I’ll tell you all I know when we come online.” 

[whohasfourthumbsand]

[ Attachment added; Untitled022.omniv ] [ Begin playback; ]

GRAY — "I apologize, but my other projects had to take a backseat for a day or two— I know that I was working on some very important things, for some very important people, but I had a thought, or, rather, an idea, and, and I needed to tend to that first—"

[ The young pilot's tertiary hands adjust the camera, perching it on a shelf just a few inches above his eye-line. He's uncomfortable close to the viewer for a moment; His exhaustion is plain in his face, visible in the lines beneath his eyes, or the unkempt nature of his hair. He isn't shaking, however, nor does he seem ill; He's merely worn out, worn thin, and a little frayed. ] [ His dominant hands are visible as he steps back, gesturing vaguely as he speaks, but not signing. The voice of his TTS interface buzzes from the PDA strapped to his hip, but he isn't touching the keys. ]

GRAY — "Our nanite 'problem' was easy enough to solve- disable them with an EMP device, gather them into an admittedly simple container, transport them to a designated area to be dealt with by a professional." GRAY — "Except— no-one knew that I had them. No-one knew that there was even a 'problem' to begin with." GRAY — "And, in the moment, I suppose I was taken with a sort of nostalgia- I have experience with these things, with greywash and its ilk, and I've seen how useful it can be when properly utilized. I have an affinity for things like this. Things so single-minded in their purpose, these things built to eat, to grow, to deconstruct what it means to be alive." GRAY — "Though, It wasn't my idea, really, to keep them- I've got a bleeding heart, no doubt, and had already gotten a little attached to it even as it destroyed my workspace, and gnawed at my chassis. I figured- I thought, why not give it a more comfortable container, and, possibly, make myself and my brother a little safer at the same time?"

[ Gray doesn't smile. He steps back, two hands held out to the camera, palms forwards, urging the viewer to wait as he briefly steps offscreen. A moment later, he reappears, grabs the camera, and holds it aloft; A quick pivot on the heel of his boot, and the camera's perspective widens, revealing the nanite-ravaged workshop— ] [ —and a Combat Drill, laid out in the center of the large workspace, partially deconstructed and heavily modified. Gray leans closer, focusing the camera on the head of the drill. ] [ Something buzzes along the metal's edge. ]

GRAY — "I couldn't be prouder of how it turned out." GRAY — "Now; I'm going to get some sleep, and, hopefully, resume work on my obligations in the morning. Afternoon. Whenever I wake up." GRAY — "Hopefully, I'll feel more like myself after some rest."

[ Close attachment. ]

UPDATING LICENSE: TR-GRAE-007 -- IPS-N Vlad @ LL9 -- [ LICENSES ] IPS-N Vlad 3, IPS-N Tortuga 1, IPS-N Zheng 2, IPS-N Blackbeard 1, HORUS Balor 2 [ CORE BONUSES ] Titanomachy Mesh, Fomorian Frame, Auto-Stabilizing Hardpoints [ TALENTS ] Duelist 3, Technophile 3, Black Thumb 2, Executioner 2, Pankrati 2 [ STATS ] HULL:3 AGI:2 SYS:0 ENGI:6 STRUCTURE:4 HP:19 ARMOR:2 STRESS:4 HEATCAP:12 REPAIR:5 TECH ATK:-2 LIMITED:+3 SPD:5 EVA:10 EDEF:8 SENSE:5 SAVE:16 [ WEAPONS ] FLEX MOUNT: SUPERHEAVY WEAPON BRACING MAIN MOUNT: Tiger-Hunter Combat Sheathe HEAVY MOUNT: Combat Drill (Nanocomposite Adaptation) // Auto-Stabilizing Hardpoints [ SYSTEMS ] Siege Ram, Synthetic Muscle Netting, Total Strength Suite II, Swarm Body WAKE UP

[wrenanigans]

"damn why has nobody fixed the dark brotherhood door in the oblivion remaster yet, it's just a mesh edit" — me, about to spend eight hours discovering the 'joys' of nanite meshes in unreal engine

i get it now. i give up until we have better tools.

[mychlapci]

Can we please please talk about pregnant drift? Like really pregnant? He has a hard time getting around, cause he’s so big.

Obviously ratchet and Roddy are happy to help when they can, but drift’s hips are so big now that he bumps into everything.

Ratchet and drift have like, a medical kink, and drift loves it when ratchet whispers into his ear all the ways his body is changing cause he’s pregnant.

“can we please talk about pregnant drift” as if 80% of this blog isn't dedicated to pregnant Drift. I am always down to talk about pregnant Drift. 

I want Drift so heavily pregnant that Ratchet and Rodimus need to help him get up from his bed and have to hold his belly up as he walks around. At night, Ratchet will rub Drift's belly and tell him, in clinical terms yet with a sultry voice, just how much his body is changing, describing to him how his gestation chamber is stretching out, the mesh expanding tanks to the overworked regenerative nanites that keep it from tearing, how it's very likely that when he's big enough, the weight of his gestation tank will press against the interfacing circuits in his lower abdomen, and his array might be forcibly revealed, spike hanging from its sheath constantly as his frame refuses to waste space by keeping it inside. Drift will get so horny he'll hump the air until Ratchet or Rodimus or both decide to relieve him by touching his swollen valve <3

They're both with him when he's going into emergence, working his valve open. Ratchet periodically lets him know how dilated he is, knowing it turns Drift on…

[berrydoodleoo]

You’ll learn that all is not in vain All that matters remains But it’s time, to say goodbye Until next life

[revelboo]

Hi Revel! Hope you’re having a good day and taking care of yourself, saw you were feeling a little bad the other day, are you feeling better?

Also, only if you have the time/want to, could we get some Vortex roleplay?

Sure! I’m okay. My immune system isn’t great, so I get sick easily.

🔞 mass displaced mech 🌶️ CW- blood

Roleplay

Vortex

• Testing the weight of the blade he’d given you as a gift, you tip it watching the light catch on the ripples of folded metal in the same color as his plating. Wondering if he’d actually made the thing from bits of himself he’d cut off, because that’s about his speed. Staring down at the big, mass displaced mech, you hook a foot under one of the chains binding him down spread eagle before glancing at Blast Off and Brawl, the other two Combaticons having been sweet enough to help chain him down for you. ‘Your little human’s just going to stab you. Repeatedly,’ Brawl growls and you run your tongue against the flat of the blade to screw with them. “Get out,” Vortex snarls, hips lifting as he stares at you hungrily.

• “He’s right, you know,” you say, head tipping as you study your bonding gift and his fellow Combaticons leave. Knows he’s not done it quite right, that he should bond you before giving you your gift, but how could you play with him without a way to cut him? Watches you strip slowly, bending to slide the flat of the blade against his inner thigh, the tip brushing his inner thigh to make him release his spike for you. And you ignore it to sit on his chassis, leaning over him. That blade nestling against the soft mesh of his neck in threat. “If I wanted to, you’d bleed out before they could stop me.”

• “Do you want to?” He asks, staring up at you hungrily. Know how unhinged he can be, that he likes a little pain with sex, his or yours. Finding out you like inflicting it, had been a shock. Something you hadn’t known about yourself and feel like you should be ashamed of. The fact that he encourages it probably isn’t healthy. “Energon, blood. They’re both so pretty aren’t they? I’m your prisoner, you get to do whatever you want with me, remember?”

• Running the tip of the blade along the line of his jaw, you’re so serious as you decide what to do with him. The wait stringing him tight. You’ll cut him, you both know it, it’s just a matter of where. Maybe you’ll accidentally cut yourself getting him, your pretty red blood mingling with his energon. Hips jerking as his spike and biolights pulse for you, he retracts his battle mask and sinks his denta into his bottom lip until he tastes his own energon and you notice. The blade notching against a gap in his plating at his shoulder as you lean down and your weight pushes the blade in a bit, feels that bright pain as your mouth covers his. And he shudders, overloading against your back and hip. Making you bite his lip hard before pulling away, pretty mouth smudged with energon. “Brat,” you mutter, jerking the knife free to make him hiss. “It’s in my hair.”

• And he’s laughing, flashing those energon stained denta at you as you swipe energon off your bottom lip and lick it off. Knowing it’s poisonous to you and that his nanites can handle small amounts of it, keep it from killing you. That something’s very wrong with you for liking the taste as you shift against him, gripping and squeezing his spike to make him groan before impaling yourself on him. Riding him as he groans and swears. “Oh, Primus,” he snarls, hips lifting as much as he can with his limbs bound. “Going to fragging bite you, sink my denta in and devour you. Eat you alive.” Threats spilling past his lips as you rock yourself lazily against him. No longer afraid of his violent urges, knowing that no matter what he says, he never actually hurts you. A little blood, yours or his. But never real pain. His fucked up matching yours as you ride him and listen to his snarled words about what he’s going to do to you once he’s free.

• Primus, he loves you. Even if you’re so fragging cruel as you take your time, hips rolling lazily when you know he likes it rough, hard, and fast. Hips bucking up to make his chains rattle when you play with that blade, his blade, sliding the flat against your soft skin to smear his energon on yourself and he wants to lick it off. Eyes closing as your lips part, moving on him in no hurry. “Maybe I should keep you tied down,” you moan, voice hitching. “You want to be my little toy to use wherever I’m bored?” And he’s begging you, servos clawing at the berth as you finally start bouncing on him, being rough like he needs.

[fenmere]

This isn't finished. We need to refine the mesh some more, fiddle with the textures, and rig it up to an armature for posing. But here's an example of a Safety Patrol Exosuit from the Sunspot, in resting position.

These things are custom designed by and for their pilots, usually using common elements and features and refining them to fit the pilots physiology and skills.

They're used primarily for construction, disaster relief, search and rescue, and recreation.

Anyone can have one, really, if you want to spend some of your allotted resources on it. Safety Patrol volunteers usually get assistance from their regional community to subsidize the material costs and upkeep. It isn't really prohibitively expensive to have one, but it's size, and limited utility for anyone not volunteering or regularly using it for sports, tend to mean most people recycle theirs after a few months of play.

@ashwin-the-artless is included for scale (Ashwin is close to 4 feet tall). This is not their exosuit. The advent of nanite clay being made available to the populace, and the use of it to make nanite exobodies, has reduced the need for exosuits significantly, but some people still make and use them out of tradition or simple personal preference.

[dailydoseoflogic]

Hello again! I have another question for you, both technically Doctor Dr.Shockwave!

I saw someone else bring it up to a Soundwave and got curious with my own questions- Would Xenomorphs consider Cybertronians possible hosts?

I’m not sure if they’re real or fiction in your particular universe, but either way I think it’s another interesting question for you to ponder.

It’s shown they have little care for Androids/Synthetics, but their metal isn’t technically Living metal. Seeing how their own dna tends to mesh with whatever life form they lay their eggs inside, I wonder if they wouldn’t come out a little metal themselves?

Since it seems I keep coming back to ask more questions, I’ll actually sign off this time! - D.R. (And technically N.F., they’re more interested in human horror movies than me!)

Your insistence on referring to a doctorate I do not possess is... intriguing, but not unacceptable.

Your inquiry has led me to conduct some research via this xenomorph fan wiki. Apologies if this is not an accurate source, but it appears thorough.

I do not believe a cybertronian, regardless of size, would be considered an appropriate host for a xenomorph. DNA and CNA are both instructions for life built by chains of acids, but the way they are intended to be read are vastly different. CNA, when translated, reads more like human computer code. Being that the compounds we are composed of are so fundamentally different, I have my doubts that any binding of the chains could occur, but if we assume they could, they would result in likely fatal mutations during growth.

"Living Metal" is simply a phrase which describes the manner in which energon interacts with our physiology. We contain microscopic structures within our plating which allows energon to flow through it, fueling our nanites as well as our major organs, even creating flexible mesh for some parts of the body.

Scraplets are attracted to us because we possess both metal and energon within ourselves, which they both need to survive. Consuming us is therefore the most efficient, making Cybertronians the most "delicious" to them.

Regardless, let us entertain a hypothetical case in that a cybertronian of appropriate size-- say, Rumble, -- were to be attacked by a "facehugger". Assuming he did not remove it despite it being quite easy for him, the embryo would not be capable of gaining nutrients from the energon in his fuel tank, or from his other tissues. It may certainly pollute the energon, causing him to expel it through vomiting.

You may continue providing inquiries.

[antlersofthevoid]

Could we have more info on Biscuit?

Biscuit Girle!!

If there's something specific you wanted to know that I missed, just lemme know!

• She also goes by Biscotti [V's idea], but Biscuit just seems more fitting.

•Daddy's girl, daddy's girl, daddy's girl-

•Biscuit is the youngest and currently last child of N and V's. She's a good few years younger than Desmarais and Crumbles, but she doesnt let that stop her from trying to be just as rough as they are.

• Biscuit, like Desmarais, is a perfect mesh of both her parents. She's definitely got her own unique traits, but if you examine her personality and smaller details, you can definitelt say "yep, that's V and N's kid."

• Similarly to Crumbles, Biscuit has both the face stripes of both her parents, and little gold flecks on her arms and legs. (N claims that this makes her look like a flaky little biscuit.)

•She's very bitey.

• Looks like she could kill you, acts like she could kill you, is a cinnamon roll.

• She loves it when N takes her out to fly, especially as a droneling, and gets snappy whenever anyone tries to join along. That's HER time with her dad and she's not going to let anyone take it from her.

• Biscuit is the one envy offspring that was even slightly touched by the solver. Similarly to Val [doll and lizzy's youngest daughter] she gets really bad nightmares that seem more like visions of horrible events to come. She only tells her nightmares to her mama.

• She's got damaged eyesight like V (inherited genetics), but refuses to wear glasses unless V does. She's insecure about it.

• When hunting, she prefers to use her claws and teeth instead of her tail. The Disassemblers made an agreement with the colony to only hunt the stragglers that are dumb enough to wander past the city that arent friends or family of Uzi, so she and V go hunting out towards the forest. Biscuit likes to play with her food, and that's hard to do when your prey stops moving because of the nanites.

• Biscuit never fully grew out of the chittering and chirping phase of being a droneling, and still makes little chirps at her parents and siblings as a greeting or as a sign of annoyance. She especially resorts to nonverbal communication when stressed.

• She loves soft things. She's got a little collection of soft blankets and sweaters that she's stolen from the human corpses that she's made in the little abandoned apartment that N and V have taken up residence in.

• She carries around a little stuffed bunny that her aunt Lizzy gave to her. She loves her aunt Liz.

• Biscuit oddly looks up to her aunt J and tries to follow her around when V and N are busy.

• She tries to play with the other second gen kids. Keyword is TRIES. Beta (J's daughter) plays too rough, Basil and Soto (Uzi and Thad's twin sons) dont understand what she's trying to do when she tries to play-fight with them, Val (Youngest Dizzy twin) is absolutely terrified of her and Suri (oldest dizzy twin) constantly tries to use her solver against her, which once resulted in Biscuit being pinned against the wall by a pair of scissors to her shoulders.

[darthkvznblogs]

Gen Rex does shave the capitulation that the Nanite Event would have had to happen yet not affect Earth extremely. Ironically enough, this was kinda answered in the more child friendly Ben 10 reboot where the event did happen, but the nanites are more dormant and haven't caused any mass monstrous mutations.

I think I'd rather keep the mutations as they are in the OG but limit the affected area - either one big region or several smaller areas spread out around the globe. I know this would go against the "anyone could turn into an EVO" premise, but I just don't see such a massive shift in the status quo meshing well with the established Kverse.

[koreanthroughfiction]

그가 잊어버린 이름 - The Name He Forgot

그들은 그를 영원한 사령관이라 불렀다. 비록 그는 지구가 잿더미로 변하기 전 어머니가 속삭였던 자신의 진짜 이름을 오래전에 잊어버렸지만.

[They called him the Eternal Commander, though he'd long forgotten his real name—the one his mother whispered before Earth turned to ash.]

화성의 일몰이 제7 돔의 곡선 벽을 그의 기억 속 핏빛과 같은 색조로 물들였다. 인류가 점점 줄어드는 것을 지켜본 3세기의 시간은 그에게 합성 장기들의 기계적인 윙윙거림과 끝없이 웅웅대는 관리 드론들만을 남겼다. 티타늄이 박혀있는 그의 손가락이 뺨의 균열을 더듬었다. 그곳에서는 생체 합성 피부가 젖은 종이처럼 벗겨지기 시작해, 그 아래에서 맥동하는 은빛 회로망이 드러나고 있었다. 그를 복구하기 위한 나노봇들은 이제 그의 혈관을 기어다니는 벌레처럼 느껴졌고, 그들의 미세한 턱이 남아있는 얼마 안 되는 유��물을 찢어내고 있었다.

[The Martian sunset painted Dome Seven's curved walls in the same bloody shade as his memories. Three centuries of watching humanity dwindle had left him with little but the mechanical whir of his synthetic organs and the endless hum of maintenance drones. His titanium-laced fingers traced the crack in his cheek, where the bio-synthetic skin had begun to slough away like wet paper, revealing the mesh of silver circuitry that pulsed beneath. The nanites meant to repair him now felt like insects crawling through his veins, their microscopic mandibles tearing at what little organic matter remained.]

마지막 천 명의 인류가 아래층의 동면 포드에서 잠들어 있었고, 그가 제공할 수 없는 구원을 기다리고 있었다. 주기가 지날 때마다 또 하나의 포드가 고장 났다. 또 하나의 불빛이 꺼져갔다. 신경 인터페이스가 박혀있는 티타늄 기둥인 그의 척추는 원래의 척추와 융합된 부분이 아팠고, 금속과 뼈의 결합은 해가 갈수록 더욱 부조화스러워졌다.

[The last thousand humans slept in their cryo-pods below, waiting for a salvation he couldn't provide. Each passing cycle, another pod failed. Another light winked out. His spine—a titanium column studded with neural interfaces—ached where it fused with his original vertebrae, the marriage of metal and bone growing more discordant with each passing year.]

"상태 보고," 그가 명령했다. 그의 음성박스에서 지직거리는 잡음이 들렸고, 이는 그의 신체가 기계적 개선에 저항하는 또 다른 신호였다.

["Status report," he commanded, his voice box crackling with static, another sign of his body's rebellion against its mechanical improvements.]

"247번 포드가 심각한 고장을 보이고 있습니다, 사령관님," AI가 응답했다. "대상의 신경 패턴이 저하되고 있습니다. 예상 종료 시간 6시간 후입니다."

["Pod 247 showing critical failure, Commander," the AI responded. "Subject's neural patterns degrading. Estimated terminus in six hours."]

그는 냉동실로 내려갔고, 걸음을 내딛을 때마다 사이버네틱 다리에 충격파 같은 고통이 전해졌다. 관절 윤활유는 수년 전에 결정화되었고, 이제는 금속이 금속과 맞부딪히며 그의 몸이 더 이상 처리할 수 없는 미세한 금속 부스러기를 만들어냈다. 수세기 동안 같은 여정으로 반들반들해진 계단은 그의 부패를 목격하고 있었다—합성 피부의 작은 조각���과 검게 변한 유압액 방울들이 그의 통행을 표시하고 있었다.

[He descended to the cryo-chamber, each step sending shockwaves of pain through his cybernetic legs. The joint lubricant had crystallized years ago, and now metal ground against metal, sending up microscopic shavings that his body could no longer process. The stairs, worn smooth by centuries of the same journey, bore witness to his decay—tiny flakes of synthetic skin and drops of blackened hydraulic fluid marking his passage.]

포드의 거주자는 젊었다—결정이 내려지기 전에 태어난 마지막 세대일 정도로 너무나 젊었다. 서리 낀 유리를 통해 보이는 그녀의 얼굴은 그들 모두가 지녔던 것과 같은 평온한 표정을 띠고 있었다. 그의 증강된 시야가 깜빡거렸고, 손상된 파일들이 그녀의 얼굴 위에 그가 이미 잃어버린 수천 명의 모습을 겹쳐 보이게 하는 잔상을 만들어냈다.

[The pod's occupant was young—so young she must have been one of the last born before the Decision. Her face, visible through the frosted glass, carried the same serene expression they all wore. His augmented vision flickered, corrupted files creating ghostly afterimages that overlaid her features with those of the thousands he'd already lost.]

사라 첸, 19세. 마지막 식물학자. 지구의 잃어버린 종자 은행을 재건할 마지막 희망. 그의 손이 포드의 표면에 닿았고, 그의 망가져가는 손바닥의 온도 센서가 냉각 시스템의 또 다른 고장을 알리는 점진적인 온도 상승을 감지했다. 센서들이 불규칙하게 맥동하며 상충되는 데이터를 보내왔고, 이는 그의 시야를 정적으로 흐릿하게 만들었다.

[Sarah Chen, age 19. The last botanist. The last hope for rebuilding Earth's lost seed bank. His hand rested on the pod's surface, temperature sensors in his failing palm registering the gradual warming that signaled another failure in the cooling system. The sensors pulsed erratically, sending conflicting data that made his vision swim with static.]

그는 그들 모두를 구하기 위해 자신을 개조했다. 각각의 업그레이드, 각각의 교체는 그를 더 나은 수호자로 만들기 위한 것이었다. 완벽한 파수꾼. 불멸의. 지치지 않는. 헌신적인. 하지만 그들이 하나씩 죽어가는 것을 지켜보면서, 불멸이란 단지 정교한 형태의 고문일 뿐이라는 것을 배웠다. 그의 몸은 구식 기술의 박물관이었다—양자 프로세서와 연결하려 고군분투하는 1세대 합성 장기들, 그 아래의 금속 구조를 거부하는 인공 배양된 피부 조각들.

[He had modified himself to save them all. Each upgrade, each replacement, was meant to make him a better guardian. The perfect sentinel. Immortal. Tireless. Devoted. But watching them die, one by one, had taught him that immortality was just an elaborate form of torture. His body was a museum of obsolete technology—first-generation synthetic organs struggling to interface with quantum processors, patches of vat-grown skin rejecting the metal framework beneath.]

"사령관님," AI가 끼어들었다. "당신의 신경 피질에서 비정상적인 활동이 감지되었습니다. 즉각적인 진단을 권장합니다. 당신의 뇌척수액에서 금속 오염이 위험 수준으로 나타나고 있습니다."

["Commander," the AI interrupted. "I've detected anomalous activity in your neural cortex. Recommend immediate diagnostic. Your cerebrospinal fluid shows critical levels of metal contamination."]

그는 그것을 무시했다. 최근 글리치가 점점 강해지고 있었다—기억의 파편들이 사이버네틱 장벽을 뚫고 흘러나왔다. 어머니의 얼굴. 진짜 사과의 맛. 그의 원래 인간의 심장이 가졌던 무게. 각각의 기억된 감각은 그의 신경망을 통해 피드백 루프를 보내며, 인공 눈 뒤에서 불꽃이 춤추게 만들었다.

[He ignored it. The glitch had been growing stronger lately—fragments of memory bleeding through his cybernetic barriers. His mother's face. The taste of real apples. The weight of his original, human heart. Each remembered sensation sent feedback loops through his neural network, causing sparks to dance behind his artificial eyes.]

사라의 포드가 마지막 경고음을 울렸다. 붉은 빛이 감도는 어둠 속에서, 그는 3백 년에 걸쳐 만들어온 결정을 내렸다. 이제 금속 골격이 드러난 세 개의 손가락이 제어판을 가로질러 날았고, 긴 화성의 밤 동안 비밀리에 코딩해둔 시퀀스를 시작했다.

[Sarah's pod beeped its final warning. In the red-tinted darkness, he made a decision three hundred years in the making. His fingers, three of them now exposed to their metallic skeleton, flew across the control panel, initiating the sequence he'd coded in secret during the long Martian nights.]

"사령관님, 이 행동은 기본 프로토콜을 위반합니다—"

["Commander, this action violates primary protocols—"]

"오메가-세븐-나인 오버라이드. 실행."

["Override Omega-Seven-Nine. Execute."]

냉동실이 생동감 있게 움직이기 시작했다. 평소와는 다른 방식으로, 천장의 먼지를 떨어뜨릴 만큼 더 깊은 공명으로 울렸다. 모든 포드가 동시에 해동 시퀀스를 시작했다. 그들이 죽을 운명이라면, 깨어난 채로 죽을 것이다. 인간으로서 죽을 것이다.

[The cryo-chamber hummed to life. Not in the usual way, but with a deeper resonance that shook dust from the ceiling. Every pod began the revival sequence simultaneously. If they were going to die, they would die awake. Die human.]

포드들이 하나씩 쉬쉬 소리를 내며 열리는 동안, 사령관은 자신의 뺨의 균열이 더 깊어지는 것을 느꼈고, 합성 피부가 타는 종이처럼 벗겨져 나갔다. 그 아래의 금속은 산화되기 시작했고, 3세기에 걸친 화성의 대기가 마침내 그의 밀봉된 시스템과의 전쟁에서 승리를 거두고 있었다. 그의 업그레이드들이 실패하고 있었다—해동 시퀀스와 함께 그가 촉발한 연쇄적인 시스템 셧다운이었다. 관절에서 유압액이 새어나와 그의 발치에 검은 웅덩이를 만드는 동안, 수세기의 무게가 그의 의식을 짓눌렀다.

[As the pods hissed open one by one, the Commander felt the crack in his cheek split further, synthetic skin peeling back like burning paper. The metal beneath had begun to oxidize, three centuries of Martian atmosphere finally winning its war against his sealed systems. His upgrades were failing—a cascade of system shutdowns he'd triggered alongside the revival sequence. The weight of centuries pressed against his consciousness as hydraulic fluid leaked from his joints, forming black pools at his feet.]

사라의 눈이 가장 먼저 깜빡거리며 떠졌고, 그가 어떤 모습이 되었는지를 보자 혼란스러움이 공포로 바뀌었다—실패한 살점과 부식된 금속의 패치워크 같은 존재. 하지만 거기에는 알아보는 기색도 있었고, 다른 무언가도 있었다. 인간다운 무언가가.

[Sarah's eyes fluttered open first, confusion giving way to horror as she saw what he had become—a patchwork thing of failing flesh and corroded metal. But there was recognition too, and something else. Something human.]

"이제 기억이 났어," 그가 속삭였다. 그의 시스템이 실패하고 어머니의 목소리가 마침내 그의 기억 속에서 선명하게 울렸다. 마지막 남은 합성 피부가 떨어져 나가며, 수세기의 사용으로 긁히고 마모된 크롬 골격을 드러냈다. "내 이름은 데이비드였어."

["I remember now," he whispered, as his systems failed and his mother's voice finally echoed clear in his memory. The last of his synthetic skin fell away, revealing the chrome skeleton beneath, scored by centuries of use. "My name was David."]

화성의 붉은 먼지가 돔 밖에서 소용돌이쳤고, 인류의 마지막 저항이라는 드라마에 무관심했다. 하지만 돔 안에서, 3세기 만에 처음으로, 영원한 사령관은 죽을 수 있다는 달콤한 안도감을 느꼈다. 그의 기계적인 몸이 그것이 만들어진 기본 원소들로 분해되어 가고 있었다.

[The red dust of Mars swirled outside the dome, indifferent to the drama of humanity's last stand. But inside, for the first time in three centuries, the Eternal Commander felt the sweet relief of being able to die, his mechanical body breaking down into the base elements from which it was forged.]

[witchofthesouls]

Did Tarn ever get mad at the nurse or vice versa during the carriage/marriage?

(It's absolutely Tarn’s fault. He tried doing oral, but you shrieked at what's under his mask. For very good reasons, even if you did knee his face and got Nickel involved.)

Your servos are absolutely professional, face and field schooled in medical neutrality.

You inwardly seethe and rage at the mech's complete stupidity.

The exposed mechanisms of Tarn’s face shutter and click as you dig out the infection with a scalpel and scrap out the dead mesh and wiring and smooth out the flayed edges. Not even the pre-round treatment could fully wash away all the corrosion and slime of dead nanites.

If he wants to refuse a very recommended Class-A pain patch, then fine, you're not stopping his sadomasochistic, self-inflicted tendencies.

You're already debriding his half-rusted face with an open panel in a clean towel. You can't bring yourself to care, especially when you had to dip your arms inside a Class-C medical sealant because not only your idiot of a donor allowed a very treatable infection to set deep and fester under the mask and you had to squirt a treatment up into your valve and slather it across the folds and down your legs, Nickel needs to scope your gestational chamber to check if there's contamination in the fluids.

And because you're carrying and the stupid fuck under your hands has to go under several rounds of treatment, Nickel is currently whipping up more because she's the only one that's not a potential health hazard for the nice, sterile pharmaceutical corner.

Through the entire process, the knee that touched the active infection aches because you ferociously scrubbed it clean and applied the treatment, and thick, cold sludge is slowly, ever-so-slowly dripping out of your confused valve.

There's a set schedule and your frame has gotten used to it, especially your pelvis.

(And until Tarn is fully treated and all his masks make several runs through the autoclave, your valve will keep itself warm with the Thing's company and your own hands.)

“Tilt back,” you command and he follows, and you stretch out the heavy bottom lip at the corner with a thumb, pulling it taunt to get a full view of the rusted protoform, which slowly crawls to his jawline.

Tarn's pretty. He has strong features and scars on the cleaner half of his face. There are scars that bisect his lips and several across his nose that trail into the raging cesspool.

You wonder if that's how it started: a facial injury and no care for preventative measures and his weird tendency towards self-inflicted pain.

“Breathe in,” you command, placing the scalpel at the slimy-brown portion of the infected lip. And he inhales through his nose, the exposed cabling of his check and temple twitch, nervecircuits spark and spasm at the air exposure, and in a few parts it was absolutely necessary to dig so deep you can see grey endoskeleton.

Tarn is surprisingly expressive as well. Pupil mechanisms fully dilated, corners of his optics pulling, nose flaring as he remains stiff, courtesy of the med-berth's partial frame-paralyzation.

Well, you did warn Tarn, and he isn't asking for a pain patch, even now when you're deliberately giving him a moment.

This will be the most excruciating part of the ordeal. The mouth has many specialized sensory suites and pressure sites. Plus, you need to excise the infected inner lip as well. Perhaps the gumline, too.

Tarn isn't a newbuild. His profession deals with frame functions and processes. He’s far more knowledgeable than the average lay-mech of sensory mechanics.

And he has your comm line to literally ask for the damn patch.

“Breathe out,” you command, and he exhales. You make the first scoop, and to his credit, Tarn doesn't flinch, nor did you have to command the med-berth to fully paralyze him.