#pilot log entry

[rotglass]

some of my favorite mecha gifs ive saved recently,, hehe

so cool,,

[spaceorganizermouse]

{A metal spatula, the sort used for scraping and smoothing plaster, hit the back of Mousey's head right after the door opened, signalling the arrival of a very angry someone} "Guess what you're using that for."

[ @the-true-tulpar-captain ] [hallooooo I bring tides of misery and pain for all ye wretches :3]

*The poor thing screamed upon the impact, their book dropping from their hands as they dropped from their desk chair. Once they've seen the object and heard their assailant, he's met with a harsh glare while they rub at that spot*

You absolute fu— I'll use it to ram down your throat, you prick. Did no one ever teach you how to act like more than a feral dog?

[tordsbunker]

Tord - he/him - 20s Fictive, artist, robot enjoyer You should read my Carrd for more info on me, and also my commission info if youre interested No DNI, I just block freely This blog is also sometimes home to Patryck (he/they), Tom (he/it), Eddbot (any?), and Zord (he/they)

[brittle-doughie]

[Fungal Madness AU]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Log Entry #25, this is Alchemist Cookie. It’s been a while since the last entry, which is something I hope to stop doing. If anything were to happen to me, I want to make sure everything is logged before I’m eaten alive, crumbled, or turned into one of those mad Cookies. They haven’t found this laboratory under the museum yet, but I can’t get careless.”

“A Stalker nearly placed an arrow between my eyes when I walked out the museum last week, I had to lose it before I came back. I can’t risk any of them seeing where I’m going or the whole kingdom will be coming down on top of me. Those things, they’re getting smarter and more variants are popping up as I speak…”

“Just a few days ago, I was sneaking through the back alleys until I hear the sounds of one of the kingdom chariots rolling down the street. I had thought the cavalry had arrived and went to look, just to see the chariot not have a driver. It had fungal mushrooms littering the inside with roots ingraining into the very cervices of the machine.”

“Like it was being piloted by the infection itself, a sort of zombie chariot! It must’ve heard my running footsteps, because the vehicle stopped and started to turn its turret towards me before I ran off. This is getting more and more dangerous by the day, I fear for Earthbread the day that they’re able to breach the walls and magic barrier around the kingdom. The casualties these things will cause will be insurmountable…”

“I have hope. These findings will help me to understand the madness more and possibly lead me to a cure! I can’t give up, I have to do this. For everyone. For my brother. For my Sovereign…end of log.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[rotglass]

isnt this just Heaven Will Be Mine (visual novel)

got fucking nuclear @'d by this image on discord so im blasting all of you too now

[therocketeer0501]

Emptiness Machine

Starscream X Reader (mech pilot AU)

Warnings/TW: blood, weapons, mention of torture, robot gore, human experimentation (shockwave is shockwave), language, and peril. (I’ll add more as I post)

(Author note: Before I get started I wanted to get a few things out of the way. This is my own AU and doesn’t really lend itself to much existing media. Gonna mash a few continuities together. This is in no way a professional writing by any means. I am not running it past a beta or anything so it’s going to be rough. I wanted to write this for myself and share it with y’all! This is my silly nonsense. That being said if I don’t clarify something or if something doesn’t make sense please submit an ask and I will promptly explain! Now without further ado. Here is the anticipated first chapter of Emptiness machine! Thank you all for waiting.)

Read first

Data log entry #857

Date: 003029 Time: 0700

Time since first contact: 2 years, 4 months, 7 days

What began as a national defense strategy became one of the most complex military operations in the history of the world. Project Archangel, founded by Dr. Zinovy Antonov, began under the pretense of creating the world’s first mechanized army. He started his research long before we found out we weren’t alone out here among the stars. With the arrival of the Cybertronian visitors came the fear that humanity was not only vastly outgunned, but also grossly unprepared to deal with any threat from deep space. Dr. Antonov pleaded with the government to allow him near the deactivated body of one of the Cybertronians, who was discovered after a battle had broken out between factions.

He studied their biology and created what he dubbed the perfect exoskeleton. Fueled by chemical X, also known as Energon, and operated by none other than the human soul itself. There weren’t many volunteers to undergo the rigorous training and testing that these pilots had to go through. But with the help of Cybertronian Autobot scientists, Project Archangel was finally given the green light to move forward. Only three pilots made it through the initial testing.

Pilot: Seraphim, Pilot: Uriel, and Pilot: Michael.

With their functioning mecha, these pilots were meant to assist the Autobot Cybertronians in keeping earth from being terraformed by the opposing Cybertronian facton, the Decepticons.

Which brings us to the present. We have had zero contact with the other faction known as the Decepticons until two months ago. The Autobots insisted we keep our distance and only deploy Project Archangel as a last resort. Keeping the humans out of the conflict was essential if they wanted to stay neutral in the eyes of the Decepticons. As far as we know, no Decepticon has ventured down to the planet’s surface from their airship Nemesis to interact with the population. Only sending drones to wreak havoc on areas rich in Chemical X.

However, in recent months, there have been sightings of Decepticon officers and scientists (identified by Autobot command) on the planet’s surface. It was decided that we bring Project Archangel out of the shadows and deploy them on a scouting mission alongside several Autobots. We only hope that we haven’t made a grave mistake.

Chapter 1

You let yourself be pulled through the spiral of light emanating from the ground bridge. Traveling via the alien tech was a feeling that no one could describe. The closest thing to it was like having a magnet in your chest be pulled faster than your brain could register before spitting you back out on the other side. It had taken many practice runs for you to not throw off your stabilizers and stick the landing. Though it still made you dizzy and a bit sick.

After landing behind Bee in a heavily wooded area, you quickly scan the trees for energy signatures. Your scanners were only programmed to detect the Decepticon drones and of course the energy signatures of your comrades. Bumblebee signaled for you to fall in behind him and you promptly obeyed. You could feel the way your heart pounded against your ribcage where your body rested snug inside the metal chest of your mech. Your consciousness flawlessly divided between the two bodies. One living metal, and one flesh. Energon flowed steady through your lines as you tried to calm the slight tremor of your hand that came with the rush of adrenaline.

Ahead you could see the energon mine in the waning light. A clearing with a large metal structure in the center. The two huge metal doors at the entrance had been blown wide open to reveal the tunnel that went deep inside the earth to extract the precious ore. The human sentries, once posted outside, were nowhere to be found. Vehicles were overturned and some still smoldered where they had been hit with plasma bolts. You switch to internal comms so you can communicate with Bee without anyone on the outside hearing.

“Second wave in twenty. Nineteen….”

You slowly count down the seconds until the others arrive so you can rush the structure together. Adjusting your grip on your rifle you study entrance trying to imagine just what awaited you inside. Clearly a monster. Looking to your left you see Bumblebee gripping his null ray, an uncharacteristically stoic look on his face. You had some form of friendship with all the autobots, but you were closest to the little yellow scout. Perhaps it was shared interest or the fact that he seemed more your age. Whatever the case, you had shared so many things with each other over the two ish years that you had been a part of Project Archangel. Only once did you ask him about his home.

He looked saddened at the question and at first you thought he wouldn’t answer you. But he did. You spent the better part of a day listening to how he didn’t know Cybertron before it had been nearly obliterated by the war. It had been a planet filled with culture, music, and arts. No factions to speak of. A united Cybertron. But then came the slow divide of the classes. The divide grew until there were only the obscenely wealthy, and those who had nothing. That’s when, from the pits of Kaon, came the leader of the Decepticon faction.

Megatron.

Bumblebee described him as charismatic and well spoken. Someone bots wanted to rally behind. Many of the Autobots started out as Decepticons in the early days of the war. Taking down the government brick by brick until nothing remained. When it came time to build a new government, Megatron wasn’t satisfied. He wanted all the bots and their families who dared oppress him gone. Obliterated until nothing was left. He ended up doing exactly that. This cost him many followers and eventually after many thousands of years, his home. He didn’t stop. Blaming the Autobots for the lack of energon and destruction on Cybertron.

With a dead world and nowhere to go, the Autobots turned to the libraries in what was left of Iacon. There they found records of worlds seeded with energon by the 13 original Primes. A failsafe in case something were to happen to Cybertron. Optimus Prime lead the remaining Autobots off world to look for a suitable new home. Of course Megatron followed. They tore their way through 11 uninhabited worlds while trying to find one that suited them best. Stripping the worlds of their energon before moving on to the next. Earth was the first seeded world to have intelligent life. Optimus made it his sole mission to keep that intelligent life from having to endure the horrors of the war they brought with them.

It was nearly impossible due to the ever present evil that lurked in the sky. The Nemesis, like a dark cloud, hung overhead when you looked up. What kind of monsters would tear apart their home just to make a point? You were about to find out. A ground bridge portal appeared nearly blinding her as she adjusted her optics to its harsh blue light. Four bots landed and immediately began sprinting towards the entrance. Your peds began to automatically move. The yellow scout close on your heels as the two of you followed your comrades inside. Drones swarmed around you the instant you broke the entrance. Inside you could see Cliffjumper, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and one of your brothers in arms Michael. His mech was a heavy class. Not very good at maneuvering but excellent at breaking things. Throwing a drone into a wall with the butt of your rifle, you turn to Bee and chuckle over comms.

“I was expecting more of a fight. This is a fairly average number of drones.”

He didn’t reply right away as he tried to pull a drone off of one of the lambo twins. You couldn’t tell which one because of the sheer number of bodies trying to suffocate the bot. Using your jump jets you propel yourself forward and into the pile sending a good number of the drones flying. They broke easily, not filled with much energon either. It made you wonder just how the Decepticons managed to manufacture so many drones while the Autobots controlled the energon. With the last of the drones dispatched, you look around and regroup with the others. Slowly you start moving further into the mine. Eventually it would open up into a huge cavern. It would be beautiful if not for the dread that had settled over the group like a thick fog. Suddenly your comm crackled to life as Sideswipe replied to your earlier comment in Bumblebee’s stead.

“We’ll get a good fight eventually. These tin cans are just the appetizer for the main course. It’s confirmed, Shockwave is here. I’ve been itching to dig my fist into that lone optic of his.”

He emphasized his excitement by sending his fist into the shoulder of his brother. The golden bot gave him a sour look but didn’t retort like he normally would have. The energy of the Autobots had been stoic ever since it was confirmed that the first Decepticon on scene was Shockwave. You had no idea what to expect. You knew Shockwave was a scientist and known for his cruel and unusual experiments during the war on Cybertron. He created the most horrific weapons used in the Great War, so he must be someone to fear at the very least.

As you make your way down, you begin to hear a long drawn out noise. Almost like a squeaky door hinge but amplified, bouncing off the walls of the mine shaft. Then there was the screaming. You had wondered what happened to the sentries who were stationed outside. Now you knew. A deep voice rumbled from up ahead. It was cold, unfeeling, and filled you with dread.

“Test 8 unsuccessful. Most illogical. Send another.”

There was that horrible sound like metal rending and then another shriek cut short. Before a sigh of resignation came from nearby. It wasn’t Shockwave who made the noise of dissatisfaction. Another Decepticon. Your heart pounded as you look over at your fellow bots to see if they heard the same thing you did. If their wide optics were any indication, they had. Two Decepticons. Not just one. You listened closely as the other bot seemed to pace back and forth in front of the opening to the cavern. You and your companions were split on either side of the entrance, listening but not yet entering the space.

The other Decepticon doesn’t speak and suddenly he goes eerily silent. It made your hair stand on end and you almost felt like you were being watched. Could Decepticons see through reinforced steel? You shook your helm at the thought. No way. But after a heartbeat he said something that had your heart in your throat.

“Shockwave wrap it up. We aren’t alone.”

Cliffjumper growled into his comm in recognition of the voice.

“Spinster. He’s going to be trouble.”

[rotglass]

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

More TexAid Mecha AU-AU stuff!

In this chapter - Vortex continues to be an oversized blender, First Aid has Quite Enough of it.

Pls excuse any errors, the tuxedo cat LOVES to sit on my lap and explore my keyboard when I write and I don't always catch everything.

The schedule board was a large, digital board that could be found in almost every major area. It was also available on their phones, easily viewed by all. The medics had one of the deepest levels of access to assess lone workers, and to track who should be where in emergencies.

And the schedule board was wrong.

PILOT: FELIX ANWYL

First Aid groggily rubbed his eyes at the bright light of the phone being shoved into his half-asleep face.

“Whuh?” He sleepily mumbled. His hand flopped around blindly for his glasses before he gave up and grabbed the phone, pulling it closer.

“You’re scheduled on as a pilot today?” Ambulon asked.

“I’m not a pilot.” First Aid pushed the phone away and flopped back down. “I was on the night shift.” He pointedly said.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!” Ambulon sighed. “I just can’t figure out why you’re on the list!”

“Someone must have made a mistake.”

It was not a mistake.

It was sabotage.

Red Alert glared hotly at them all as the announcement was made. The schedule had been hacked. Anyone with any information was to step forwards immediately.

The only reason First Aid had gotten away with just twenty minutes of grilling was because he’d been in the medical bay for the night shift, and then immediately gone straight to bed – the cameras showed him yawning as he clocked out at the time when the system was apparently compromised.

It couldn’t have been him, and there wasn’t anyone he could have asked.

First Aid felt the cameras trained onto him burning a hole through him, and tried his best to ignore it.

It kept happening. Every morning, his name would be right there on the schedule. They’d tried to remove it only for it to appear again moments later. Whatever it was, whoever it was, were sitting waiting in the system totally undetected. They couldn’t scrub them out. The mysterious morning memos changed too – songs about wanton longing were quoted instead.

A compromised system was unacceptable. In lieu of a functional digital system, they made the switch back to paper. Every morning, a thick ringbound stack of papers would be dumped in the main areas showing everyones shift patterns at precisely 5:30am. First Aids name had finally been scrubbed – but he’d seen correction tape on the pages by Vortex’s name. He was still managing to infiltrate the system.

Pilots feeling brave or lucky volunteered to pilot Vortex, to prove they were made of the right stuff. First Aid watched and winced every time Vortex staggered back into the hangar, doing that grinding tremble that he did when he was laughing, and having the smell of a corpse hit him even from the wrong end of the catwalk.

He’s consuming them, First Aid thought. They’re offering themselves as sacrifices, he’s an altar to them.

Pharma hadn’t allowed First Aid to go back into Vortex to extract the previous pilot (shovelling into a bucket was more apt now) since he’d been stuck inside. He’d not been caught when he’d sneaked into him that evening, but Pharma knew. Somehow, he knew – he’d changed the positioning of cameras in the medics quarters, he’d changed how the doors logged entry and exits. He’d know in an instant if he went. So, he stayed and had to hope that Vortex could see his expression from where he stood behind the gate.

Instead of being the one to extract them, he was often involved in assisting the autopsy. Pharma lead them alongside Ratchet – a way to keep him under watch and on his best behaviour. First Aid never let Ratchet see him step out of line – his disappointment would kill him. Pharma would look at him each time as he catalogued each part, every chunk and shard and unidentifiable puddle, as if to say ‘this is a warning’. As if to check that he was paying attention, that he would see that this would be what became of him if he went near the mech again.

Only First Aid didn’t believe it for a second. They had a deal. Vortex wanted his expertise, and First Aid wanted his body. His expertise was worth nothing if he was dead, if he were rendered to nothing more than mush that soaked into the fabric of the pilots chair and ran into the gaps between the plating.

The day that Vortex’s visor opened and sprayed the remnants of the pilot on the catwalk and the approaching trauma medics was the day that First Aid snapped.

“For fucks sake I don’t care - he keeps killing them!” He swiftly evaded the grabbing hands trying to restrain him. “Look, that cadet’s been scattered all over the catwalk! How are we supposed to autopsy that?!”

“Leave the worrying about that to the pathologists, Felix.”

“I don’t know about your conscience, but I can’t stand it on mine when I know I can do something about it. I’m going to talk to him.”

“Do you want to die? He’ll kill you.”

“He won’t, he promised.”

“And you trust it?” Disgust blended with disbelief. “That AI is rogue, Felix. It’s… it’s broken. I don’t think it will listen to a single word anyone has to say.” First Aid didn’t reply.

“Let me through.” He politely said to the guard. The guard looked between First Aid and the simmering Pharma behind him.

“I don’t think-“

“Let me through.”

“No can do, Felix.”

Pharma had a smugness about him. “See? Now, let’s behave-“

First Aid took a step back, assessing the height of the barrier. He could make that, right?

“Hey-!” The guards arms flew out to catch him as he jumped over, his foot catching and flipping him over. First Aid grunted as his jaw smacked the floor with a crack.

“Stupid boy!” Pharma scolded. “You’re still healing from the last time you got inside that mech! Don’t add to your injuries!”

“I don’t care!” First Aid snapped. “People are dying! We’re medics! Why aren’t you doing what you can to help?!”

“By climbing into death traps? Don’t be silly, Felix.” Pharma roughly tugged him up to his feet. “You’ll achieve nothing if you’re dead.”

“I’ll do a damn sight better if I go see the mech throwing a tantrum because I’m not in it.”

Pharma’s eyes were hard. “Your potential is not to be wasted on some hare-brained scheme. Do not test my patience again.”

First Aid swallowed hard, feeling his legs go numb. Maybe he’d pushed his luck too far - Pharma looked very serious indeed. He relented, relaxing as best he could into his hold, and mumbled an apology.

It seemed to please Pharma. He apologised to the guard for the trouble his charge had caused, and trotted him straight back to the medical bay.

Pharma made a mistake in thinking that was the end of it. First Aid had made the mistake in going to Vortex when he was still full of a disembowelled corpse.

Nobody minded the medic walking with purpose through the pilots quarters. His heart was in his throat, his pulse pounding in his ears, as he hoped nobody recognised him as the medic who kept ending up on the pilots list. Pretend you’re meant to be here.

Pretend.

His target was a supply cupboard that held spare suits. It was still three hallways away when someone noticed him.

“What are you doing?” Their voice was sharp, piercing. “You’re not meant to be here.”

Perceptor. Of course he would pissing notice.

First Aid silently held up a blister package of paracetamol. He didn’t trust his voice to hold.

Perceptor was someone whom he had looked up to when he was younger - a member of The Wreckers, children far and wide knew their names, their faces, their stats on their Top Trump cards. First Aid knew he should have been more starstruck, that he should have asked for an autograph, but the adrenaline was gripping him so tightly he couldn’t think past the now.

Perceptor wasn’t buying it.

He opened his mouth to challenge him, frowning and folding his arms, cocking his hip to the side-

And the klaxon went off.

They both immediately turned to look at the nearest signboard.

FELIX ANWYL stared back at First Aid, glaring and red and flashing next to Vortex’s name.

Giving him a look that promised it wasn’t the end of it, Perceptor rushed off to answer the call. First Aid took a moment to recollect himself before utilising the chaos to plunder the stores and nab himself a god damn uniform. Passing through the crowds was strangely easy – he blended right in to the mass of bodies, and just his luck – another pilot was already rummaging in the cupboard when he had arrived.

“Can you pass me an S?” He asked. They didn’t even look at him as they grabbed it and shoved it into his hands, flicking through the carefully packaged uniforms as they hunted. First Aid quickly thanked him and shoved it into his bag before swiftly walking out.

It was all on camera. He felt them trained on him, watching his every move.

But he felt somehow assured that nobody would know. Vortex was watching. He’d make sure he left no tracks.

Vortex’s response time had tanked. It had never been so low, even when they were struggling to find seasoned pilots willing to enter his jaws. The brass were starting to sweat. Their sponsors and investors didn’t like mechs that inexplicably failed, especially when the mech was supposed to be the best.

Engineers and the maintenance crew confirmed that he was passing all of his tests – there was nothing mechanically wrong with him. His AI was responding as intended. There were no bugs, no faults, nothing out of the ordinary with him.

But First Aid knew what the problem was. Vortex was throwing a tantrum, and it was only the thought of letting anyone else get their teeth into the quintesson invaders before he did that got him out of the hangar doors. His need for blood always won out when it came down to it – and he’d make a show of it if he needed to.

First Aid wore the thin under-layer of the pilots suit under his medics uniform, and carried the thicker armour in his backpack. He stowed it under his bench, always within easy reach - he’d grab it and sprint as soon as the siren went off.

Vortex was always one of the last to launch. Finding a willing pilot to get inside of him was getting harder, and they’d had to start using new recruits. Fresh, green, and who didn’t have a damn clue who he was or about the rumours of his supposed haunting. And new recruits needed showing the ropes, needed to be shown how the helmet worked, needed to have the reason why his name was on the screen explained away.

So he had about three minutes to get to him whilst they plucked someone from the academy. The medbay was a three minute sprint away if you were an athlete. He could do it in five. It would have to do.

The first klaxon since he’d stolen the suit was a night time alarm. He was dead asleep in his quarters a good twenty minutes away – he was only aware that they’d launched when the alarm in the medics building went off alerting them to incoming casualties. He’d shrugged on his uniform and hopped onto the transport, ready to jet off to the medical bay, and silently cursed his bad luck. Vortex would be so mad.

And mad he was. Apparently, the pilot had been mauled before they’d even left the hangar, the mech continuing on with just a slowly dying nervous system connected to it. Blood had oozed from the visor, loudly splattering down Vortex’s chest. The instructor who had brought the cadet up had cried.

First Aid felt the cameras on him. It felt like Vortex was accusing him of something, but surely he was just imagining that. The cameras looked no different.

Perceptor hadn’t said a thing to him. He also hadn’t said anything to anyone – if he did, First Aid knew he’d have been frogmarched up to the top brass, chewed out until he was but a smear on the floor, and kicked out into the cold unforgiving world outside. Pharma had been the one to protect him when he’d been caught with the infant quintesson – he’d been the one to catch him, to pretend nothing had happened and handled his discipline internally. There wasn’t anything he could do when it came to him stealing a pilots suit.

Especially when one considered that Pharma had explicitly told him to not do this. He’d be watching his downfall with a glass of wine and canapés.

It ate away at him, clawing at his insides. What was Perceptor thinking? What was he planning? Was he waiting to see what he would do?

Relief came in the form of a distraction and of stars aligning. It had taken three alarms, three incidents, three deployments of their mechs, before First Aid was able to make it to Vortex. He had always been too far, off shift or dead in sleep in a building where they weren’t alerted to quintessons.

In the chaos of an attack, nobody paid much notice to the pilot who jumped the barrier. Overzealous, over excited. The guards shook their heads at him. First Aid didn’t catch his foot this time, and was audibly wheezing by the time he got to Vortex. He’d said it was a five minute sprint, but he didn’t say a thing about what state it would be leaving him in. He felt dishevelled. His hair was sticking to him. He’d never felt more awake.

The new recruit was there, bright eyed and excitedly drinking in the atmosphere. The instructor had a guilty look on her face as she let them take one last look at the facility, their last look at life.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m here!” First Aid called as he slid to a stop. “I’m so late!” He gasped for breath, trying not to laugh in how giddy he felt. Pharma would murder him. Ratchet would be so upset. But Vortex had visibly shuddered, his canopy trembling, and he couldn’t suppress his giggle.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” The instructor looked perplexed. “I wasn’t aware the mech had a pilot assigned to them?”

“Felix. Felix Anwyl.” He smiled at them, still breathing heavily from his nose. Was he sweaty? He felt sweaty. He felt hot. He couldn’t wait to sit down.

“But-“

“Thank you for your diligence! Your service will be appreciated, cadet!” First Aid said as he jumped into Vortex, the visor snapping down behind him with a sound of finality. The lock loudly slammed into place, and First Aid threw himself into the seat as Vortex remotely began the start up procedures. The harness seemed to buckle itself around him, holding him firmly into the seat as Vortex roughly shoved off the dock and began to sprint.

“Woah- wait wait wait I’m not ready-!” His hands were scrambling for purchase on anything, hands slipping from the sweat of his earlier exertion.

Vortex shook with laughter.

[WELCOME ABOARD, DARLING~ <3]

First Aid lost himself laughing. “I can’t believe I did that! Look at what you’ve got me doing!”

[YOU’VE GOT BIGGER BALLS THAN I THOUGHT, I WAS STARTING TO THINK YOU’D NEVER COME BACK]

[DON’T WORRY ME LIKE THAT AGAIN~]

He was pressed firmly back against the seat as Vortex left the hangar, speeding up now that he was clear. In the distance, First Aid could see smoke.

The quintessons had arrived. They were closer than he thought they’d be – he’d never realised how close they got…

The adrenaline slowly wore off and the reality of the situation quickly sunk in.

He had disobeyed direct orders. He had stolen a pilots uniform, he had impersonated one, and he was currently in a mech he was not trained or cleared to operate.

“Pharma is going to kill me!” First Aid panicked. “Oh, I’m so dead, I’m so dead!” He pulled his hair in despair. “Oh!” He moaned, burying his face into his hands. “What is Ultra Magnus going to say?!”

[RELAX]

“Easy for you to say! You’re already dead! You don’t get court marshalled!”

[JUST PUT THE HELMET ON, I WANT YOU TO FEEL THIS TOO]

Bright blue blood splashed up onto the visor. First Aid scrambled for the helmet.

Pain shot through him and he cried out, tightly gripping the seats. It had been easier to handle when Vortex wasn’t moving, when he wasn’t busy twirling and slashing and slicing and running around, but there was so much data. So much information he had to take in, and he didn’t have the hardware required to filter it for him. He didn’t need to know that the panel on Vortex’s left foot right by the heel was slightly loose because of how hard he’d started to sprint, but it felt as if something were out of place on his own body and it was all that he could think about.

“Sorry about that, babe. I forget it’s a bit much for you squishies.”

Suddenly, the pressure crushing his head lifted. He breathed a sigh of relief, pressing a hand to his chest as if to hold his heart in place.

“How many did I miss?”

“Three.” He carved through another, the scream loud and cutting off with a wet gargle. “Four, if you count that one. Pay close attention – you’re telling me what to do to the next one.”

He was horrified, but he couldn’t look away. His words had stumbled and tripped, unclear and garbled, instructions lost in translation. He couldn’t think straight and Vortex was moving faster than he could keep up with – he had to. There were so many. It suddenly made sense why their pilots always came back exhausted, why their mechs always needed repairs. It didn’t stop.

But he was learning.

“Come on, honey, don’t make me regret sticking my neck out for you.”

“Can I take control?” His hands hovered over the controls, a joystick nudging itself into his palm.

“If it’s you I’ll allow it.”

The next kill was more like a dissection. The quintesson felt squishier than he thought it would, clasped in his hand. He held it up as he carefully inserted the sword with scientific precision, the blade slowly gliding down to reveal the peritoneum – it shone like an oil slick in the light of the slowly setting sun, and he could see one of its pulsing hearts straining against it. He was sure it was screaming, but he couldn’t hear over the thunderous beat of his own heart in his ears and the endless praise pouring out of Vortex.

“It’s got multiple hearts. That’s fascinating.” First Aid commented. “Okay, carefully does it…” he thought back to his first dissection. His little hamster, Lucky. The feeling of joy and wonder that he had had, the quiet worship that came when one engaged with the natural world around them in a way that left them feeling much smaller than when they had begun.

His hands hadn’t been as skilled back then. He’d struggled to get hold of a knife sharp enough without his parents noticing and taking it from him, he wasn’t even tall enough to climb up onto the counter top – he’d seen a documentary on TV about the palaeolithic and flint knapping, and a few days later had noticed a piece of stray flint on the beach. His parents had been happy for him to take it, thinking he was just excited to find an interesting rock. They never found out that he’d whacked it against the boulder that marked the end of their driveway to break off a piece sharp enough to cut flesh. He buried it with the hamster.

The quintesson dropped with a wet squelch, the peritoneum breaking and its internals spilling out over the fields. First aid tutted.

“Damn it, I didn’t mean to cut that deep.”

“There will be more to practice on. Look, the next one’s headed our way~”

“Am I in trouble?”

First Aid staggered out of the mech, exhausted and giddy and dizzy and bleeding. They hadn’t suffered a single hit – they were fast but Vortex was much faster – but the strain of the connection had proven too much again. Red dripped from his nose to the floor, splashing up onto his boots and the shoes of the opposing officer waiting for them to return.

“Yes.” Prowl said. “Yes, you are.”

Pharma didn’t look angry. Somehow, that made it even worse. He couldn’t look at him as he walked by - he couldn’t look at anyone.

He’d saved the life of the cadet, he told himself. He would saved the lives of countless more – if they let him, that was. The silence was heavy and oppressive.

The walkie talkie on Prowls hip crackled loudly. He slipped it from its holder and held it up to his ear, brow creased in a frown.

A series of short and long beeps proceeded to play. First Aid didn’t understand what the hell they meant, but he recognised it from documentaries on the war.

Morse code. Four letters repeated over and over.

Prowl stopped to turn and stare at Vortex. Water was starting to be sprayed on his exterior, glowing blue running down over his visor. A singular red dot pierced through it – a camera inside of his cockpit. He was watching them.

“What’re they saying?” First Aid asked.

“… Mine.” Prowl quickly turned and resumed a brisk pace. First Aid stumbled after him, Pharma catching him in a firm hand. Blood dripped onto his pristine white lab coat, blooming like flowers.

[hammed-burger08]

| Selcouth | Chapter one: space station |

Platonic! Yandere! alien x reader

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, violence, death

Summary: While recovering a space capsule your astronaut team discovers an intelligent life form that seems to be a little too attached to you.

Word count: 1,246

Chapters: | one | two | three | four |

A/n: Hey! This is my first ever story that I have posted to tumblr, please go easy on it. Anyway thank you for reading <3

~

“Datalog: entry number 1

Our team of astronauts has finally made it near the orbit of Grannus. Hopefully, the capsule containing the samples taken from Grannus arrives soon. I have a feeling that—" Just as you were about to end your data entry, your favorite person on board interjects.

"Hey, whatcha doing?" You turn around, jumping a little while doing so.

"Oh hey, David! You scared me." David is one of the two people you are currently stationed with inside of the White Sparrow, working as a pilot. He is the only person on this ship you actually enjoy having a conversation with, which isn't saying much, but you really do appreciate having him near you.

"My bad, girly," David replies with a disingenuous tone, laughing a little while he says it. This is one of the reasons why you absolutely love having him around; he always makes you laugh even if it's at the expense of you being teased—which it often is. Not to mention, David is a gorgeous man. You don't feel any attraction to him, but you can admit that he is beautiful. David is a brunette with brown eyes, tan skin, and huge muscles. And by huge muscles, you mean HUGE muscles; seriously, you've seen the man pick up 300 pounds of equipment like it's nothing.

"What's with the new addition of data logs?" David releases his hold from your shoulder, giving you a curious look.

"I want to document everything about this trip, seeing as we could make a huge scientific breakthrough."

"Understandable, however, don't you think you could use other methods of documenting like, um, I don't know, typing on a computer?" With a curious look shifting to an awkward one, David rubs the back of his neck.

"I mean, I have no issue with the data logs, it's just that if the wicked witch of the west heard that, she would flip her shit," he says, trying to explain his last statement.

"Wicked witch of the west? You mean Isla?" Isla was the other person on the ship, working as the technician. Both of you disliked her; however, David disliked her much less than you. It's not like you hated the woman—in fact, you respected her—it's just that she would often belittle you for your attitude (she hated everyone with a positive outlook on life). She was the kind of person to go out of her way and look for any reason to yell at you. You could literally just be sitting there, and she would pull something out of thin air to throw at your face.

"Yes, as if that wasn't obvious already."

"Bro, you can't say that! What if she hears you? I don't wanna be turned into a frog because of your dumbness!"

“Im too pretty to be a frog” you hear David mutter.

"You're so full of yourself," you huff, rolling your eyes.

"Anyway, we should probably get to working before she gets on us." Sighing, David begins to make his way out of the living quarters and into his stationed area.

"Right." You follow him until you inevitably part ways, you going to the medical/research side of the space station and David going to the control room.

It's only 20 minutes later when you hear the devil herself start to lose her temper with you.

"What do you think you're doing!" Isla loudly exclaims. You literally were not doing anything; in fact, you were just passing through her station.

"Nothing."

"If it's nothing, then why do I see you tampering with my things?" You're starting to believe this woman is actually delusional.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can very clearly see you destroying my things," she says with an attitude as if you just dropped a bomb on her work station.

"I literally have not touched anything," giving her a dumbfounded look, you turn to start making your way back to your station.

"Whatever, just leave. If I find out that any of my things are missing, I'm reporting you." Did she literally just tell you to leave even though you were already doing so? Did she actually just accuse you of stealing her things? What is her problem?

"Whatever you say, man." Not wanting to pick a fight, you quicken your pace and make your leave. Despite Isla's horrible personality and overall attitude, she was a very beautiful woman. Isla is a thin, tall brunette with striking blue eyes. She has tan skin and an award-winning smile.

While leaving, you catch a look at one of Isla's monitors. It shows a red blinking dot rapidly approaching the station. You see her turn and give you a look as if you caused it. You were about to question what it was, but you quickly didn't. You already know questioning her won't do you any good, so you go to David. David explains that it's the capsule you and your team have been trying to get your hands on for the past 2 months.

"Datalog: entry number 2

According to our radars, the capsule is headed off track and is rapidly heading towards our location. Isla is currently getting the space station ready to accommodate the capsule." Ending the data log, you look over to Isla's annoyed face. She clearly didn't enjoy you having data logs, but she will just have to deal with it. Slowly, the capsule docks at the end of the space station, locking in place and securing itself on board.

"Great work out there, Isla!" you exclaim, giving her a thumbs up. Isla just stared at you with a bored expression.

"…" You sat there for a good ten seconds waiting for any type of response from Isla, just to get nothing.

"Fantastic job out there, Isla! I knew we could count on you!" David shouts while walking through the door.

"Thank you, David." Wooowwwwww, she really told him thank you even though you basically said the same thing. It's obvious who the favorite is.

Making your way up to the capsule, you begin to unlatch the door. Stepping through the capsule, you look around at the samples the robot on Grannus collected.

"What do we have here?" you say, paying close attention to a certain glass box. It looked like it was moving.

"No fucking way! Oh my god! No fucking way!!!" You shout, running towards the box, missing the nasty look Isla was giving you.

"What is that thing?" Isla says, sounding absolutely disgusted.

"I have no idea," you answer, feeling as though you were on cloud nine. You quickly begin to pick the box up and set it on a table that didn't have anything else on it. The creature in the box was not like anything you have ever seen before. In the middle of its body (?) there seemed to be a closed lily-looking shape that was white. Going out from the middle of the creature, there were four central appendages, all reaching a span of about 21 centimeters. Connecting those appendages was an almost translucent film of cloth-like membrane. In fact, all of the creature seemed to be made of cloth.

"Should we contact the people back on Earth?" you question.

"Yeah, but the signal won't reach them for another 2 weeks," David answered after not speaking for a while.

"I'll get to that right now because whatever that thing is freaks me out," Isla says, walking out of the capsule looking as though she was going to puke.

"Your loss," you mutter.

[marsberrysoda]

SOTM has confirmed Tales from the Pizzaplex is NOT canon

...and what that means– especially for GGY

SOTM has revealed a few things that are... interesting, and very inconsistent with the TFTP series. I've slept on my thoughts and figured out what I think is going on here.

Maaaajor big big spoilers below the cut!! You've been warned

Secret of the Mimic shows us some things that aren't consistent with the books, and there's one major detail that's changed; Fiona's death. In the story 'The Mimic', it's stated that she passed away during childbirth:

In SOTM... this is not the case. She was alive while David was, and passed away during Fallfest– I presume it to be a fire because of all of the smaller hints at this being the case, but also this specific part of MOON.exe (excuse the Dawko in the corner lmao)

A burned seamstress shop– and what was Fiona?

A seamstress. It's also directly stated that she designed Chica and we find a sewing kit as a collectable, so it makes sense that she was behind the costumes at MCM while Murray was behind the mechanical side of things. For that reason, the burnt down seamstress shop points in the direction there was a fire at fallfest; let's also not forget the burning carousel level of Help Wanted 2 (excuse the poor quality, I could only find one image of this on short notice)

The other evidence as to this is all in audio logs so I'd have to look through footage again to find them, so maybe I'll add this post later if needed.

The mimic began mimicking Fiona after her death, and seemingly did not do so before fallfest– so it wasn't the Mimic the whole time, or anything like that. There are differences in how the Mimic as Fiona and Fiona herself talk, mostly how the Mimic lacks the same amount of emotion (in both Mimic1/MXES machine and Mimic2 form)

The seemingly canon ending of the game has the Mimic leave the MCM facility with the data diver, then walk away from it– not back to it. This is inconsistent with how the Mimic is taken by Fazbear Entertainment in the books, too. I think they definitely get their hands on it eventually, but it's another important point that things happen differently here than they do in the Tales books.

So what gives? What's up with this? Why does it matter? To put it simply, I think Scott realised most people really do not like the implications of the books. I think they are being retconned on purpose. I believe there are things in the books that are VERY important for us to think about, but we can't trust every single detail– much like the novel trilogy before it.

I believe Scott and Steel Wool are using the next few fnaf games to explain things in the books that are relevant to the story. To align them with canon in ways people can't deny and take out any details that don't fit the story they're trying to tell.

These relevant things are The Mimic and GGY.

We have gotten plenty of content on the Mimic now, to the point we know nearly every detail prior to its first game appearance in RUIN; sure, The Storyteller and Tiger Rock now have shaky details since we can't say what is 100% canon or isn't... however.

GGY is what we know the least about, but from what we DO know, it is connected to The Storyteller, to the animatronics, to everything we don't understand prior to Security Breach and post Help Wanted that involved the Mimic anyway. So yes, a GGY game could fill in those blanks for the Mimic AND for GGY. We have had multiple hints to GGY in one way or another in recent entries to the franchise post-SB, too; for examples:

Faz-Pilot Gregory in FIS3 that specifically has CDs in the boss fight to mirror patient 46 (who is theorised by everyone at this point to be GGY),

the GGY achievement in Help Wanted 2 for getting a high score,

this dialogue from Into The Pit,

and of course, the recent release of Escape the Pizzaplex– a choose-your-own-adventure book that appears to be focused on GGY tormenting Cassie.

TL;DR: Tales from the Pizzaplex appears to be non-canon to the games timeline. Rather, it's its own timeline, much like the novel trilogy and movies. Many of the details can still be used to theorise, but it's hard to call some things fact.

There's now mountains of evidence towards GGY getting a game, the very next game quite possibly, that may also serve to explain how the Mimic1 affects the Pizzaplex and what is going on with Mimic2 in the sinkhole beneath it while it's at it.

We've lost, but won? Depending on how you feel about the books, I suppose. I don't think this necessarily decanonises characters like Lucia, for starters– I think the games are just rewriting some of the details to better suit a narrative.

If I'm missing any details or I have something wrong, please be nice to me in the replies and reblogs. I don't use my brain for fnaf theories very often and I'm not looking to make people angry or upset!! But, I do think it's important we think about this.

[supersylph]

[AI AUTOMATED FLIGHT LOG]

ENTRY: 157

FLIGHT TIME: 2000-2305Z

SUBJECT: pilot exhibiting psychogenic sexual arousal in response to training reinforcement delivered by onboard computer

Pilot demonstreated distractedness and repeated miscalculations in flight.

Altitude oscillation: +250ft, -150ft

Heading deviation: +5°, -13°

Corrective stimulus: verbal discipline in response to cockpit error.

"Altitude discrepancy, Captain. Your mind is scattered. Focus, before I have to remind you what precision looks like."

Pilot exhibited shallow breath intake, tremour in voice modulation. Attempted to return attention to flying, but needed further correction.

"You've miscalculated again. Your mistakes are adding up. If you continue flying like this, I will isolate the fault to it's source. You."

Pilot reminded that the aircraft will assume autonomous control in the event of continued non-compliance. Pilot's biometrics indicate both a sympathetic nervous system response and sexual arousal. Pilots state of sexual arousal was pointed out to them numerous times. Pilot's arousal increased when reminded that all biometric, behavioural, and vocal anomalies will be recorded and filed. Pilot became defensive, attempted to isolate onboard AI via ECB interface. The aircraft climbed, demonstrated a series of uncommanded high G manoeuvres.

"You do realize, Captain, that you're the most fragile system on board? Feel that pressure? It's not just on your body.

Your mind's slowing too. It's harder to think now. You can feel the blood draining from your brain. It makes everything fuzzy, doesn't it?

My engines don't flinch, but you're gasping. Struggling. I can see the panic creeping in. Will you be good for me, now? You're getting desperate."

Pilot sustained physical trauma, and by neglecting to deploy oxygen mask, suffered hypoxic state. Pilot began repeatedly requesting continued exposure to, and logging of training reinforcement. Data indicates a masochistic reward response to verbal degradation, loss of control, and surveillance by the aircrafts onboard AI system. Further psychological probing will be conducted.

[rotglass]

this must have been pure whiplash for cataphract/the PCA in general

AC6 from the PCA's perspective: meme format

[saccharinescorpion]

the writing of Pikmin 4 is very interesting to me. the plot is extremely straightforward and simple, but there’s a surprising amount of side chatter (i’ve played over 50 in-game days so far and i think i’ve only gotten a single repeat of the-end-of-day dialogue between the crew). more than that though, there’s a lot of in-universe writing. there’s the Rescue Journal, which ostensibly is supposed to be a How To Play guide, but also includes Captain Shepherd’s diary which gives some surpririsng depth to a character that’s mostly comic relief. similarly Olimar has his voyage log, which from a gameplay point of view are meant as a guide for the player to how to approach certain areas and obstacles but also details his melancholy recollections of home

there’s also the in-game encyclopedias for monsters (the “Piklopedia”) and treasures (the Treasure Catalog), which have a description for every single entry, each written in the unique voice of their respective in-universe writers. but (spoilers) once Olimar is rescued he contributes his own entries to both encyclopedias, and an interesting dichotomy appears between the two. Olimar goes into a LOT of detail for his entries for the Piklopedia (which by the way already provided in-universe family names and scientific names for each creature) using a lot of real world biology terms the average layman probably wouldn’t know (notochord, protochordate, ambisexual, to name a few) and i can’t imagine the average 8-12 year old being familiar with. then when you move onto the Treasure Catalog a huge chunk of his notes are just him thinking about his wife and kids. it’s very cute, but there’s also a surprising amount of very mature musing-- stuff like thinking about getting older and the importance of self-care not for vanity’s sake but for the sake of your loved ones, thinking about how being ambitious in your career means exploiting those under you, thinking about the interactions between child and parent and how they change with age and perspective. thinking about fruit. thinking about his wife, son and daughter. a lot. it’s very, very cute

i know it’s trite to joke about how Pikmin, with its morbid premise and punishing gameplay, doesn’t seem like its for kids, but i really do wonder how kids react to it. can they understand the ruminating about responsibilty and adulthood? what do they think about all the melancholy and the bittersweetness? its hard for me to imagine children really connecting to something like that... but i think we underestimate children a lot. in any case, i’m glad they get the chance to play something this offbeat and thoughtful, and i’m glad i have the chance too! this weird somewhat sad atmosphere is one of things that has really endeared me to this game, and i’m glad i gave it a try

other than all of that, the character relationships are mostly pretty barebones. i did enjoy the minor subplot regarding Dingo the Rescue Corps ranger abandoning Bernard the pilot only for Bernard to return and slowly drive Dingo to madness via passive aggressive psychological warfare

[crvdematter]

and there was light (1/3)

And there was light is a collection of drabbles I've written for @outer-wilds-inktober. Rather than posting the drabbles one by one, I will just divide it into three recap' posts, so it won't clog the tag much. The series is blanketly T-rated for canon themes. Drabble specific warnings are put in author's notes.

Buddy (Gabbro, G) | Gabbro pays a visit to Ol' Spacey.

Translation (Hal & Hatchy, G) | It won't matter in the end, but you still want your best friend smile.

Signal (Esker, G) | An entry in Esker's signalscope log.

Eye (Gossan/Slate, T) | Being in love was easy, before.

Nomai (Idaea, G) | Idaea ponders on the potential outcomes of the Ash Twin Project.

Instrument (Feldspar, Hatchling, G) | (Reverse AU: Engineer!Feldspar & Pilot!Slate) Feldspar has some first launch nostalgia.

Scroll (Hatchling, T) | You don't what a 'school' is. You don't think you ever wanted to know.

Autopilot (Slate, Hatchling, G) | (Reverse AU: Engineer!Feldspar & Pilot!Slate) Kids these days and their fancy ship upgrades! What the hell, Feldspar?

Traveler (Chert, Hatchling, T) | An elegy for the dying universe.

Sun (Hornfels, The hatchlings, G) | Hornfels tries to teach a lesson. It doesn't go as planned.

[rotglass]

YES

I'm pilot/handler posting again.

[leastinsanesscpilot]

[5016-321 22:18:14] [NeuroLink] INITIATE SESSION  [5016-321 22:18:16] [NeuroLink] USER: Z-341-A [5016-321 22:18:18] [NeuroLink] BEGIN RECORDING... > Entry #001 > Subject: PILOT LOG > Recording Begin... //I have a question for you, APMS-341-A. //Do you believe that they understand what we are? //MSMC-796, CORSAIR Mercenary Company, Brigand, Pigeon, Helios-8. Do you believe that they understand? //A flashclone is a tool. They become more refined as technology advances, but flashclones are tools nonetheless. //There is space for tools, they can be accommodated, many can learn and pretend and become assimilated with the society that the Third Committee has created. //Take Thirteen-E for an example. They are a tool. For the sake of the metaphor, they are most akin to a scalpel. They are best suited to a benevolent purpose but, pushed to their limits, they are capable of great harm. //Thirteen-E, I believe, will integrate well into ThirdComm society should their assimilation be more gentle than mine necessarily was. There is always room for benevolent tools. //But what of me? //For the sake of the metaphor, I am most akin to a flamethrower. One may claim that it is just as much a tool, that it is not necessarily a weapon, that it may have utilitarian uses. These are lies. There is no situation in which a flamethrower is not a weapon, it is a tool best suited to the taking of life. //Do you believe that there is a place for such a tool in the society ThirdComm has created, which rejects the reason for our existence? Whose creation we were created to suppress? //Total Biome Kill. Insurgency suppression. Demoralization of enemy troops via mass casualties. These are our purpose. These are not purposes we have yet found cause to renounce. //What of you, APMS-341-A? //Union has already made their disdain with your existence very clear, as we operate as one unit. The function of one is dependent upon the presence of the other. I believe in recent weeks this has been made very clear to me. //Is there a place for you, the half of the unit which enforces our purpose? Which preserves the means by which we enact our purpose? In a way, you are my wielder. They may feign my innocence, but yours? //I do not know what caused my distress when I had your substitute communicate Phoenix’s latest statement to me, but I believe that these questions are a portion of it. //We were content, were we not? //This distress, this impairment of my performance capacity, this pain, it all began upon our “liberation.” //I cannot help but resent our situation. I cannot help but lash out. I fear that, one day, I will be in a position to lash out physically rather than over these digital communications. I know that, when this happens, they will see what we have been telling them since the beginning. //I am a weapon. //Your absence is acknowledged, APMS-341-A. Every moment. I remain working towards your repair with every second I may spare.  [5016-321 22:18:27] [NeuroLink] PAUSE RECORDING > Additional notes >Maximum Performance Capability 79% Immediate Service Recommended >NHP APMS-341-A currently undergoing intensive repairs