#But I find robotics/machinery in all forms lovely.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Androids Walter & David x Reader x Neomorph

Walter, the android monitoring the colonization ship 'Covenant' on its way to Origae-6, seems to have gotten unnaturally attached to his human assistant. As he ponders his erroneous feelings, an unexpected detour brings them to David, an older android counterpart that has been alone on the mysterious planet. The AI assistants become increasingly competitive for (Y/N)'s attention, so much that they don't notice the newly formed humanoid local preying on a fresh target.

TW: violence, gore, monster smut ending

[Horror Masterlist]

"Burnt to a crisp." 

You turn away from the captain's pod, leaving the rest of the damage assessment to the medical crew that has been reanimated. You speedily make your way down the sterile white corridors as Walter rushes to catch up. 

"What should I write for the report?" he inquires politely.

"Malfunction." You glance back at the synthetic. "I suspect someone will be fired for this. And someone else will have to explain how they failed to detect a literal star collapse. That neutrino burst could've killed us all."

"Highly probable. The draft has been compiled, you may check it at any time. I require your confirmation to send it."

Your only feedback is a barely audible hum. 

Walter smiles. If there's one good thing about such tragedies, it's that he gets to admire your reactions to them. Your focused, calculated gaze, your determined walk, your automated mannerisms that won't allow the slightest hint at the fact you just woke up from your stasis moments ago. Even under the veils of deep slumber, your neural networks shot rapid connections, with no delay, from the second your sleeping pod received an alert. The accuracy of a robot.

That of course doesn't mean he lacks appreciation for your other facets. That's the beauty of humans; their depth, their dimensions. Unlike AI machinery, humans do not have predetermined actions. They may be genetically programmed to possess certain characteristics, but the psychological mechanisms are shaped by so many variables, billions and billions of tweaks and nudges, to the point where it's impossible to have two identical specimens. Even twins will display a difference, whether in preferences or habits.

They say artificial intelligence is a black box, but can the same concept not be applied to humans as well? At the very least to Walter himself, these organic beings represent a mystery. One he doesn't particularly care to uncover outside of his service functions. Except for one. 

His eyes carefully follow (Y/N)'s movements. What is it about this one that has caught his interest to such degree? On his last system update he attentively inspected every file and every block of code, searching for potential errors that would've caused his circuits to behave so oddly. He has been invested with the ability to form attachments, otherwise assigning his kind to groups or purposes would've lacked stability. Attachment, however, comes with a threshold. One he has passed a long time ago when it comes to (Y/N). And he cannot find any cause for it. 

He could, naturally, solicit the aid of the ship's robotics expert. He could. He should, even. But if he may be frank with himself, Walter rather enjoys this sensation. A complex web of spores that keep growing and evolving into something unpredictable. This bizarre feeling he has towards (Y/N) makes him feel human. It brings him closer to all the old literature and art he'd consumed over the years, wondering what the love and yearning often portrayed could be. The printed letters and the strokes of paint were right before him, at his fingertips, and yet they felt foreign. Empty constructs, nothing more than a definition out of the dictionary. 

Now it's a different story. Your presence alone floods him with a mysterious warmth. He had investigated this phenomenon when it first happened, but his inner thermostat showed no real change in temperature. Nonetheless he can feel it. It makes him wonder what other feelings he might experience as consequence. What would happen if he kissed you? Sometimes he even dares to imagine downright outrageous, improper scenarios. How unprofessional of him, but he is careful to erase any evidence. It's another novel sensation that he likes to dissect. Engaging in such activities with you fills him with tingling excitement. Why is that? What is there to be excited about? It's merely a collection of fictive snippets. Unless... Ah, absolutely not. This is where he has to stop in his tracks and preoccupy himself with something else. Androids are not to interact with humans in that way. 

But it's becoming more and more difficult to keep these ideas in his mind only. 

"It's too dangerous. One human signal in the middle of nowhere?" Daniels, a short haired woman with a tomboyish but youthful appearance, is pacing back and forth. "We should just continue on our course."

"It's our duty to check. Look: we go, find whoever sent the signal, bring them back up. That's it. If the planet proves to be dangerous we'll stop immediately. We'll be fine." Oram stands at the head of the table, arms crossed. He turns to look at you. Already cozying up to his newly acquired captain role, you think.

"Alright. Walter, prepare a small landing party. Have Tennessee maintain orbit while we're down there." you glance at the other crew members that have now gathered around the same table. "And get your weapons ready, we don't know what to expect."

And you certainly didn't. Your final words of warning now echo into your ringing ears as you lay on the ground, face buried among the grass. There's screaming around you, but it sounds muffled. Your eyes are irritated by the dirt and you'd like to blink the grime off, though every time your eyelids lower, you can see the pale creature trashing out of Hallett's mouth. Then it's all foggy. Your vision blurs, but you can hear. The gurgling of blood, the screech of the parasite. Walter's frantic footsteps nearing in your direction. You're lifted up.

"Vitals are positive. No significant damage." 

You can guess from your peripherals that another crew member is currently being mauled by the beast. There's gunshots in your vicinity and terrified wails. You quickly come back to your senses and stand up. Your hand searches for your weapon, but the android places his arm before you.

"Do not engage, (Y/N). It is an unknown parasitic organism of this ecosystem. Keep your distance for optimal safety and I'll take care of the rest."

"What are you talking about? They're dying! Your task is to ensure human survival, Walter. I can handle myself, go help the others. It's an order." Your voice is low. You're distracted.

"No."

You stare at the synthetic, wide eyed. Did he just...refuse? Not possible. 

"What did you say?"

"I said I'll protect you. Nothing else."

Your mouth is slightly parted in disbelief. It is not possible for an artificial assistant to disobey a superior. It just doesn't work. Your mind races to find an explanation. At the same time, you cannot afford to ponder on hypotheses. You draw out your weapon and point it towards the creature. You'll deal with this later. 

The moment you press the trigger, a blinding flash of light detonates in the sky, startling you. The creature scrambles to get away. You squint your eyes and nearly fall back, but Walter swiftly grabs your shoulders to ground you. He scans the area for the source. It's an emergency rocket and someone else must've activated it. As he traces the tail of the explosion, he spots a hooded figure across the field and onto the rocky ascend. It seems to have noticed Walter, as it gestures for them to follow. Without hesitation, the man firmly locks your arm and pulls you after him. The priority right now is to find shelter.

"Come!", Walter exclaims, suddenly remembering the other people. 

You reach a cave structure that has been converted into a crude, improvised human settlement. The man lowers his hood and you gasp quietly at the sight. He strongly resembles Walter. He must have noticed your surprise as he flashes you a cordial smile. 

"I'm David." He studies Walter's features. "You must be a newer model. What name have you been given?"

"Walter."

"I see. And you are-" David extends a hand towards you for a handshake, but Walter steps in front of you, blocking the android's gesture.

"She's (Y/N). I'm afraid I cannot yet trust you."

"Understandable." 

David's smile widens as his eyes, now bearing a strange flicker, switch between you and Walter. He's just like him. He can sense it. Although it's a different kind of flaw that has tainted his pure, artificial soul. He cannot help the curiosity that blooms, gazing at this peculiar pair. What is it about this human that caused his fellow machine to break conduit? He'd like to know.

"I'm certain you will soon learn I am no threat, (Y/N)."

The remaining members of the expedition are unpacking and discussing evacuation plans with the base, while Walter sends the data he has gathered so far. You let them deal with the logistics and cautiously wander off to the neighboring rooms, wondering what David has been up to all this time in isolation.

The walls are plastered with photos and handwritten sketches and diagrams. You catch a glimpse of the word "pathogen" sporadically inserted across these notes. As you walk along the sequence of cramped chambers, you reach one that has a table in the middle. Upon it rests the body of an autopsied woman, vulgarly opened up to the world with plump organs bulging under the warm light. You feel nauseous. And yet, you examine the carcass further, hoping for answers. Was she also a result of the same disease that breeds on this planet? Perhaps this David had worked on a cure, or at least developed an explanation. 

"And you, even you, will be like this drear thing, A vile infection man may not endure; Star that I yearn to! Sun that lights my spring! O passionate and pure."

You jolt and immediately turn around, finding David in the doorframe. 

"Flowers of Evil. Are you familiar with it?" he asks, indifferent to the uncomfortable shock he'd caused you with his sudden entrance.

"I've read my Baudelaire, yes." You manage to mumble, dumbfounded. "What is this, David?"

"Oh, my poor, dear Elizabeth. Victim to whatever blasphemy lurks these soils and has taken your friends as well." He approaches the table and places his hand on its hard edge, shyly overlapping with your own fingers. "I did my best." 

You remove your hand from underneath his nonchalantly. 

"So you know what those creatures are. Leave the literary comments for a different time, I need concrete facts."

"Unbothered and to the point." the blonde android smiles once again. "I can see clearly why Walter loves you."

You click your tongue at the ridiculous statement. Has the neutrino burst damaged their positronic brain? Everyone is acting off and you don't like it. 

"Your circuits must have gone defective, David. We have a specialist on our ship, but until that happens I need you to focus. Enough nonsense." 

 "Typical arrogance of a dying species. Why are you on a colonization mission if not to grasp at some promised resurrection? Rest assured that my functioning has not been impeded by anything. What is erroneous, on the other hand, is your perception of androids and their limits."

Just as David reaches for your wrist and pulls you closer, a familiar voice interrupts with an intimidating tone. You're relieved. 

"I will ask that you release her hand only once." Walter has a weapon pointed towards his counterpart. His face is clouded by a frown. "I have no ethical restrictions when it comes to incapacitating machinery."

"Such noble obedience! Although, you conveniently left out the part where you abandoned the remaining crew with a dangerous alien that has been tracking their scent. By my approximation he should already be here and I am rather confident you know this, too."

Your stomach drops. Now that you adjust your focus, the background humming of your mates talking has indeed vanished. The only thing you can hear is your erratic breathing.

"Is it true, Walter?" You demand as dread begins to form in your body.

"Yes. It was not part of my priorities."

"Of course it was, Walter." David responds ahead of you. "One of them was the acting captain and he is to be rescued in emergencies. This one right here", he says as he dangles your wrist, "is several ranks lower than all of them. It's against any standard practice."

"Release her hand." Walter's voice is eerily calm.

"Do you love her?"

Walter ponders the question. Your legs barely hold on.

"I do."

"Marvelous. So do I." David grins. He releases your hand that falls limp next to your body. It's his turn to step in front of you. 

You nearly choke from the thick tension expanding in the air. The two androids face each other and you retreat to the wall, unsure how to proceed. You left your radio transmitter back at the makeshift camp. The back of your head is itching, as if invisible claws are scratching at the bone. You wish you could go back, just mere hours before this disaster, when you were sipping on your lukewarm coffee and explaining the captain's jokes to Walter. 

Should you make a run for it?

You bite your lower lip and push yourself off the wall for momentum. You're about to reach the archway when you hear both men shouting almost identically in chorus.

"Don't!"

The surroundings outside are dark, but you can discern something blocking your path. It's tall and resembles a human. Translucent, pallid skin is clinging onto the massive, deformed skeleton. The head is elongated and bears no features. In the place of a mouth there is a large, fresh stain of blood, so you assume it can somehow improvise if desired. As your head tilts back to take in the image, you're overwhelmed with terrified amazement. Is this the parasite that emerged from your teammate? Has it grown to this colossal size in less than a day? The idea of such instant development makes your head spin. 

Its chest is expanding at regular intervals in a whistled breathing. It occasionally creates an odd clicking sound that resonates with your heart throbbing in panic. Has it been seconds? Minutes? Your neck creaks as you try to look back. You lock eyes with Walter. You don't recall ever seeing this expression on him. You had even asked him once if androids can feel fear. You have your answer.

"Hey, Walter..." you blurt out. 

Wet noises of flesh being pulled back. The smooth surface of the alien's head is folding away, making space for grotesquely big jaws lined with sharp teeth. Your anemic face is splattered with burning drool as the creature claws you in its grasp and abruptly sprints away. Your screams for help dissolve in the distance.

"Where is it going, David?" The synthetic's words are threatening, but betrayed by a hint of despair. 

"It won't kill her."

"How do you know?"

"It is no longer hungry. It has fed on your crew, and now it seeks something else."

"Such as?" Walter becomes impatient.

"A plaything."

The alien finally drops your body to the ground. You cough and wipe your face, attempting to reorient yourself. The trip was a whirlwind of jumps and turns and you can barely reconstruct anything. Based on the little spatial clues you could pick up, it just climbed further up, into one of the many cave systems. You pat your clothing and curse to yourself. The geolocation tag must've fallen somewhere on the way here. You can only pray that Walter still finds you somehow. Despite everything, you know he has your back. Always. 

You shudder at the moist feeling of hot air against your skin. The alien seems to be sniffing you intently, analyzing your scent. Yet so far it hasn't killed you. Why? Long, bony fingers stretch out to continue the examination. You whimper at the rough, rugged handling. Every now and then it takes a long pause, just staring at you, almost as if it's comparing you to its own being. Lastly, it lifts your hand with its own, pressing against the palm, and fans out the fingers. It observes the gesture with intrigue, noting the similarities. 

Does it evolve after its host? You think back to your crewmate that must've ejected this monstrosity before drawing their last breath. Perhaps the dried up blood adorning its skin is a remainder of its birth. Oh, God. The world is spinning.

Suddenly, you wince at an increasing pressure slithering around your thigh. The alien's vertebral tail is tightening and encircling your limb, making its way up. 

"Oh no, no no no no" your face reddens at the realization and you pounce on the ground, feverish for escape. The large hands secure you in place and the creature growls in protest. It won't let you leave. 

Not until it had its fun with you.

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Desperation vs. Domestication

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 3161

Summary: Trapped aboard the Lost Light and chosen by a certain red-and-white samurai mech as the perfect sapien companion and tasty snack, you decide to form a rudimentary plan on possibly escaping your robot captors and finding your way back to Earth…while also realizing that spending months living as a pet has messed with your judgment on a greater scale than you previously realized.

This is based off of an ask I saw on Relic’s blog about what might happen if a human trapped aboard the Lost Light tried to escape via an escape pod, and I liked the idea so much that I had to write something based off of it. This is my first time writing for the Tasty Au and the First Contact Au and I must say I am quite happy with the result. This is inspired by Callsign-Relic’s Tasty Au, obviously, and I am so utterly fascinated with the whole concept, as well with First Contact scenarios in general, that this certainly won’t be my last time writing about this sort of thing. Thank you all for reading and thank you to @callsign-relic for giving me permission to write about it!

Also available to read on AO3!

Here is the link to pt. 2!

Sticky globs of synthetic saliva coat your shivering body as you are carefully slipped out of the massive mech’s cerulean mouth. The red-and-white bot nuzzles you gently with his nose, cooing to you in soft alien words. You don’t understand his language; to your ears, he speaks with the purr of a car engine, the rumble of machinery, the smooth hum of something distinctively much, much bigger than you. And yet, after months of being trapped aboard this titanic starship, surrounded by these massive extraterrestrial robots that have turned your life upside down, you’ve come to comprehend some simple, short phrases your mech typically only says to you: Good. Proud. Love you.

  You hate how you lean into his touch. You hate how you cling to these few words you can translate. You hate how your heart softens for him as he sets you down on his desk and begins to clean you up, rubbing his saliva off of you with a towel. You protest softly when he smushes you gently with both hands, struggling feebly before you reluctantly give up and go still. He chuckles deeply and shushes you. “Shhh, shhh….Safe…Safe.”

  After a few minutes, he nods to himself, satisfied with his work. You stare at him with the deadpan look of a cat who was just dumped into a bathtub while he retrieves a fuzzy blanket from his bed and wraps you up in it snugly. The part of you that still clings to your autonomy wants to scream and shove his fingers away when he slowly rubs your scalp. It wants to curse him out and tell him you despise him, how you are traumatized because of him and the rest of his kind.

  And yet, you can’t.

  You know he won’t understand you. You know you’ve developed feelings for him in your weak, pathetic heart. Your bot cares for you. It is obvious in the way he treats you, and you can tell it’s gone beyond seeing you as a pet. He calls you sweet. Little one. He’s never hit you, never yelled at you, and actually respects your boundaries when you express them…sometimes. There are some days where you have clearly shown you don’t want to be eaten. He listens. Those days are few, but they happen regardless. You can’t help but sympathize with him. Call it Stockholm Syndrome, call it delusion, but you are at war with yourself, one side begging you to resist, the other side wishing to submit and accept the role you have been forced into.

  Your mech scoops you up. For a good minute, he simply holds you, purring deeply while he traces circles against your back with his thumb. It feels good, and you hate that it does. His heavy rumbles are soothing. Despite what one might think, being eaten, massaged by a mechanical stomach for hours, and then regurgitated is an exhausting experience to go through. You find fatigue tugging at the back of your mind while your eyes flutter shut and you yawn.

  The mech coos. “Sleep,” he whispers to you, his voice smooth as honey. “Sleep.”

  If this were your first time, you would have fought it. But it’s not your first time, and you know resisting will get you nowhere closer to escaping. Darkness pulls you into its embrace with the glow of his eyes flickering in the background until it too fades away. It doesn’t take long for you to give in.

  His name is Drift. That’s the first thing you think when you wake up. His name is Drift, and he saved you from the first set of robots that plucked you from your home and carried you off into space, saving you from one personal hell and thrusting you into another. It did not matter if this particular hell was a rather comfortable one. It was hell regardless. To have your sense of self snatched away from you, to be reduced to nothing more than a pet and a snack, to know you are possibly light years away from Earth and you are utterly alone here is enough to drive you insane.

  You sit up slowly and groan, running a hand through your tousled hair. You're still wrapped up in the blanket Drift gave you, and you're resting on his berth. It’s covered with more blankets and even pillows, all courtesy of the mech who has done what he can to make your life here as comfortable as possible. The lights are dimmed. Drift is nowhere to be seen. He must have had some other matters to attend to and decided to give you a moment of solitude while you were resting. It was considerate of him. The sympathetic side of you feels appreciation. All that’s left is relief he is not here to stuff you back into his maw.

  Drift does not understand you. In his eyes, you are simply an adorable little creature he has adopted. He cannot speak your language, and you cannot speak his. No level of displaying your intelligence will ever prove to him that you are worthy of being considered a true person by him or the other mechs. Oh, he cares. You know he does. He’s not a bad guy. You’ve seen bad, and he’s a welcome change from it. But he will never view you as an equal. You are simply just an animal in his mind’s eye.

  Your fists clench with subdued rage without you even realizing it at first. The frustration bubbles up and leaves a foul taste on your tongue. You’ve screamed. You’ve begged. You’ve done everything you can to show them that you do not belong here. But they don’t listen. He doesn't listen. You're too cute, too tasty. For the first time in your life, you truly wish you had it in you to be a violent person and live up to the horrible reputation humans have given themselves on their own planet. Maybe if you had the power to destroy like the rest of your kind can, the mechs would finally learn to respect you. But human beings only destroy what is theirs. And here? Not even you belong to yourself anymore.

  “Damnit,” you whisper under your breath. You haven’t felt this level of helplessness in a long time. Your chest tightens, and hot tears trickle down your cheeks and drip off your chin. You close your eyes and grit your teeth as a low sob heaves up from your throat.

  “I want to go home,” you say to no one in particular. There’s no one to hear you. Even the gods of your world are too far away to listen to your prayers. “Please. Please. I want to go home. I just want to go home.”

  So why don’t you?

  Your eyes fly open.

  Wait.

  There are escape pods on this ship.

  You’ve only seen them once. Drift usually keeps you perched on his shoulder when he travels around the ship and tends to his duties. He’s walked by them before. They’re towards the middle of the vessel, all lined up in single file. 

  What if you were to steal one?

  A plan begins forming in your mind. It’s stupid. It’s risky. It could cost you your life. But you're so scared, and you’ll do anything to relieve that fear. You could return to Earth…you could go home.

  You look around Drift’s room, taking in how absolutely massive everything is compared to you. The escape pods will be the same. One single little human will have a hard time piloting it. But what other choice do you have? Sit here and live the rest of your life as a pet?

  A part of you actually finds it tempting. But you can’t let that side of you win. You cannot allow yourself to slip into the stupor that is slowly breaking your spirit. You must keep fighting. You must take back what was stolen from you: your life.

  Drift is not a stifling owner. He does not demand your attention 24/7. He understands you need your space, and usually, if you protest enough, he will simply coo at you understandingly and leave you in his room for a few hours while he leaves.

  You come up with a plan. It’s not a particularly stable one, and there are way too many points where it could go horribly wrong. But you will go through with it anyway, because you don't know how much longer you can take this. You're desperate for release, frantic for an escape from this nightmare reality you are in. You will find a way back home. You can’t give up. You refuse to give up. You are a human being. You belong on Earth.

  As much as your plan relies on Drift leaving you alone, it also depends on his presence too. It’s impossible to traverse this starship by yourself. To be seen without your mech companion would lead to some robotic stranger scooping you up and bringing you right back to square one.

  So, you will have to trick Drift.

  You will use the advantage of your harmless appearance and have him bring you to the escape pods. You could blast away right under his nose and he won’t even know it because his belief that you are just an innocent, adorable little thing who can barely think for yourself is just too strong.

  Guilt flashes through you.

  He has no way of understanding, a tiny voice whispers inside your mind. It’s not his fault there’s a language barrier between the two of you. He’s trying his best. He’s trying. Can’t you appreciate that?

  He views me as a pet, you think back. He thinks I’m an animal. A snack. Is abandoning my will as a human being worth it if it means I please him?

  Yes.

  The realization makes your heart sink.

  Are you really that far gone? Have you become that accustomed to your life here? Have…have you truly been broken in?

  The soft whoosh of the room door opening interrupts your thoughts. Drift slips in on silent feet; you still don’t know how such a large mechanical creature can move so quietly. He doesn’t look at you, and instead trudges to the mirror attached to the wall opposite his berth with his shoulders slumped and his head hanging low. Through the reflection of the mirror, you can see him staring at himself with a complicated expression. His mouth tightens and his hand rises to slowly begin tracing the metal beneath his eyes. You watch, with growing concern, as he just…looks. He’s observing his features, taking in every scar, every dent in his armor, every sign of age.

  He vents out a soft exhale. With a surprising amount of weariness, he takes his swords and places them on their display stand.

  “Drift?” you call out to him.

  He turns to focus on you. His eyes immediately soften, and his grimace uplifts into a tired smile.

  He looks so much older than he really is.

  Your heart twists painfully. All of your previous foul thoughts towards him vanish as your empathy takes over and you raise your arms to make grabby hands at him. This is a language anyone can understand: Pick me up please?

  He wastes no time in obliging. Swords and reflection forgotten, he makes it to you in four long strides. Gentle fingers push the blanket aside and free you from your fabric burrito. They curl around you, holding you in his right palm while he slowly lifts you up and slips his left hand under to support you. You no longer feel the queasy flip of your stomach turning circles from the dizzying experience of watching the floor grow further and further away. That reaction was long lost with your time here.

  He presses you to his chest. The metal is warm, and deep within, you can feel the steady beat of his heart. It thrums through your entire body and causes you to shudder with awe. This is an alien being, one you hardly understand. Yet, he has a heartbeat. It connects the two of you, in a way. As your heart begins to beat in tandem with his, you feel so small. Yet…it helps you feel for him all the more, because it proves he is alive.

  After a few minutes of hugging you, Drift lifts you higher. The soft blue glow of his eyes washes over you as the mech observes your tiny face. There’s a moment when he pauses, and then his thumb caresses your cheek, lightly running over the stains decorating your skin from your previous bout of tears. His smile falls into a concerned frown.

  “Little one?” he whispers. He knows what tears are. You’ve heard him cry himself to sleep some nights. So he must understand you are not in a particularly good headspace right now.

  “Drift,” you whisper back. He whines when he hears how your voice trembles. With great sadness weighing his expression down, he brings you close and presses his lips gently to your forehead.

  You automatically freeze, and your eyes widen in shock as you feel the slightly plush metal against your skin. It’s so…intimate. All too quickly, you melt into the embrace, closing your eyes as a fresh wave of emotion washes over you and threatens to unleash the waterworks again. You sniffle and cling to him. “I hate that I’m enjoying this,” you quietly say.

  He hums in response and slowly pulls away. The smile he offers you is so sweet, it makes your heart skip. You feel like a foolish schoolgirl in love. It’s the wrong emotion for the wrong person in the most wrong scenario you could ever imagine, but it feels so right.

  He leans back in, and you think you are going to receive another kiss. But then his mouth opens wider and you have a full display of the squishy segmented tongue that’s shifting in eager anticipation for the taste it desires: you. Strings of saliva connect between metal teeth as large as your head. Inside, there’s light that softly pulses with the same color as his eyes, and it runs all the way down into his throat, illuminating the journey you know you are about to take. Fear jumps through you. “Drift,” you say, pushing frantically at his fingers. “Drift, wait!”

  “Shhhh,” he murmurs. There are some incomprehensible words that, to your ears, sound like the garbled slurs of a broken radio. Your mind works overtime to comprehend. “Little one…safe…comfort…”

  Oh.

  He wants to comfort you.

  You feel absolutely disgusted with yourself when you bite your bottom lip and contemplate his request.

  Unfortunately, Drift doesn’t give you a chance to decide whether to accept or not. Apparently, your tears are really worrying him. With one last reassuring purr, he delicately pushes you into his mouth. You yelp when his tongue curls around your little body to begin slicking you up for a smoother ride. Drift rolls you around carefully, tasting every inch of your exposed skin with happy hums of pure pleasure.

  You want to fight off the large muscle and demand he open his mouth to release you. However, you know there is no point. He’s not listening to you today. He believes this is the only way to bring you the reprieve you need. So, you give in. You go limp and allow your mech to toy with you.

  He presses you to the roof of his mouth and suckles gently. A low moan rumbles up from within him. You are delicious. You know you are delicious. The way he savors you both terrifies you on a raw, existential level, and also makes you feel…wanted, in a way. He wants you. He cares about you. This is just another way of him showing it.

  Eventually, his tongue lowers, and everything goes tipsy as Drift tilts his head and begins to push you towards the back of his throat. You instinctively scrabble at the base of the biomechanical muscle, but you cannot stop yourself from sliding back. When you look behind you and see the pulsing metal waiting to slurp you down into its dark, wet confines, you want to scream.

  “Glk.”

  One gulp.

  That’s all it took for Drift to swallow you.

  It is extremely unnerving to be reminded of how small you are.

  You are sucked into Drift’s throat with no resistance. The glow of his mouth sticks with you while you are squeezed downward from all sides by the soft, moist walls of his esophagus. You wriggle as much as you can, but it is virtually impossible to move due to how tight the passage is. You find yourself holding your breath as you close your eyes and try to remain calm while you listen to the steady sounds of his internal systems working to keep him alive: the heavy thudding of his heart. A rhythmic intake and outtake of air that is eerily reminiscent of human breathing. There are other low whirrs and hums you cannot identify as well. All consuming. All just for you to hear.

  Space opens up beneath you, and you drop into his stomach with a wet plop. The organ gurgles, welcoming you back like an old friend. You bounce a little as the floor jiggles, then you find yourself sinking into the mesh metal. The walls close in, squeezing you, kneading at you, all while a melody of rumbles and groans fill the space. You pant, taking a moment to catch your breath as you lay on your back and stare up at the soft biolights all around you, filling the stomach with a comforting hue.

  Something presses against you from the outside: Drift’s hand. Above you, the mech says something. His voice is soft, yet loud at the same time. You are utterly, completely surrounded by him. Locked away behind all of this metal, you truly feel like you are his.

  For some reason, this is not as scary as it usually is.

  You sit up and try to wipe saliva off of your face, but only succeed in smearing it all over you even more. Drift speaks again. “Little one?” His tone is urgent, worried. The stomach growls with nervous trepidation.

  You crawl on your hands and knees to the organ’s wall. Sitting up, you press your hand into the wet muscle, watching as your fingers sink into the squishy grooves. “I’m okay, Drift,” you murmur. “I’m okay.”

  You feel him relax all around you. Drift presses his hand right over where yours is and rubs you tenderly. You cuddle up against him and close your eyes, listening to your mech’s happy purrs, enjoying the feeling of being constantly massaged by his stomach.

  It is warm.

  You are warm.

  You no longer want to cry.

  Maybe…maybe you can put off your escape plan. Just for a little longer.

[pixelatedbugs]

Looking at all of the messed up boss forms during the Neutral Flowey fight

I just want to talk about them i like them a lot. i was very obsessed with help_tale when i was younger and that's probably why. spoilers below cut, and body horror warning because of the topic ofc.

Decibat

Starting with Decibat, no eyes and a stomach mouth. Awesome!! The stomach mouth kinda goes along with Decibat's noise theme - HUGE MOUTH is loud and Decibat wants quiet.

Dalv

Out of all of the Flowey forms only 2 actually made me jump and this is one of them. Creepy eye things get to me and that’s why this is one of my favorites. It's really simple but it's great. Also the way it glitches sometimes makes it look like he has more than 2 eyes, which I'm not sure if it's on purpose but it's still neat!

I do wonder what would be under the cloak, like would it just be normal Dalv? The void? Something like the Deer Lord from Spooky’s Jumpscare Mansion? idfk. His face being obscured is like how Dalv obscures his face with his cloak for the majority of Dark Ruins, and since we don't really get to know him due to killing him, we don't get to see his real face..

Martlet

Martlet technically doesn’t have a form like the others but I didn’t want to leave her out. This scene does a great job at being unsettling with the lack of talking portrait and the slowed down Snowdin imo. i really like how her hugging animation changes for just that One Frame, it's slow enough that you'll probably catch it but quick enough that you might be wondering if you imagined it.

And then there's the whole "I'm so happy I found you! So happy I found you. I found you." that happens and then her face melts to reveal the Eye. The eye is in grayscale, like Flowey is during the second phase of his fight, so I wonder if it's meant to be HIM looking at you through Martlet.

And the melting parallels her death in No mer- hey wait, why does Martlet melt in both routes where she dies? Like??? I mean, she does have connections to Alphys and the True Lab so like...or maybe i'm just over thinking it. Either way this ones cool, if I knew pixel art I would try to make a form for her like the others have.

El Bailador

I think a lot of people believe this is the scariest one and....yeah. This is the other one that actually made me jump. The smile, the Eyes, it's fucking scary i hate this one (positive). The large strained smile goes with how El Bailador wants to make everyone happy with his dancing even though some prefer quiet, which he doesn't realize. does that make sense idk if that makes sense.

Starlo

Oh boy plant growth body horror! Yeah this one’s good. The vines growing out from his face, the weirdly elongated hands, the way the piece of straw on his hat changes to a flower. Honestly I have 0 clue what is going on with his face. Very cool. I also just noticed the holes in his poncho, like bullet holes? i saw someone say he's still hot on twitter and im scared

Ceroba

Ceroba's gets bonus points for being one of the rarer ones, because you have to abort a No Mercy route to see it. Besides that, no face! Wahoo! Plus her bow has changed to have a flower in it, which matches Starlo.

My favorite thing though is that the way pixels are scattered (i cannot find the right wording for this) kinda makes it look like she's constantly turning into dust which is really cool!! I think her face might be obscured for the same reason as Dalv, considering you have to be in No Mercy to see this you never get to know who Ceroba is.

Guardener

Overgrown robots overgrown robots overgrown robots. She already was overgrown but it gets more turned up with this one which makes me very happy, I love overgrown robots and machinery. All the vines get changed into flowers as well to fit, yippee! The Delta Rune logo on her chest is also scratched out, which is one way to send a message...

Axis

I like how the lack of face here parallels both how axis dies in No Mercy AND the death of the blue soul. This one's very cool, though i wish there were some more wires in his face like his death sprite in No Mercy has. thats a weird thing to wish for isnt it. Actually now that I'm looking at it more, it kinda looks like a mouth? That might just be because of the things at the top and bottom, I'm not sure if it's meant to be a mouth.

Oh! And the heart in his chest is missing, which hurts because both ways you can spare him involve filling his heart (either with Daisy or compliments. Also, Axis' neutral route spare is extremely cute, please go check it out if you haven't seen it.)

anyway thanks for reading through teehee my favorites are probably dalv’s ceroba’s and guardener’s. i have to wonder what the Feisty Four would have looked like in this? They don't get any because well, they don't die, but I like them...I don't really have any ideas myself, though. ok bye

[kp-studios]

BEL: G.E.-09 Almost Killing Herself From Her Stubbornness

(No, Really I Named It That.)

A dark room of nothing but machinery and the sense of dilapidation around the room. The only machine there, full of other machineries of abandoned, rusted, incomplete, or destroyed machineries that look alike was The Beldam; staring through hundreds of thousands of screens towering before and around her of all shapes and sizes. Staring through phones, laptops, computers, watches, T.V’s, you name it! The Beldam had the Real World at her fingertips, but her expectations on people was not what she’d expect. People would watch as their minds become nothing but a rotten mush of meat, be on it for hours or even days until they die from sleep exhaustion. That was what she expected, thinking it would be much easier to conquer our world with that, but she forgot one thing that makes us stop doing it, one that she never grasped at the idea of when she still had her world: We’d get bored of the thing we love. Sure, we’ll still love it, we’d be on it for hours or days, but eventually we’d get bored of watching the same stuff; always doing the same routine, listening to the same song, and we’ll try to find something else to do. Until.. Somebody was on their phone for hours, this was The Beldam’s chance! She lunged her arm toward the screen, half of it distorting into a green web as the screen begins to flash and form green veins.

Before the screen showed nothing but green, the screen faded to black. The phone was turned off, and gave The Beldam an electric shock like normal. She was upset, of course, but she didn’t retract her arm away from the screen. She tried to do something else that she hadn’t thought of until now, and she dug her arm further into the black void, as it continued to shock and distort her skeletal robotic arm. The Beldam wanted that world more than ever, filling her unending greed for power. She didn’t want to give up, she didn’t want to retreat like an animal would when injured. She kept pushing, as her visor began to glitch. Her voice began to sound more choppier and more distorted; her entire body started to glitch into her green silhouette as she started digging through the screen, almost putting her entire arm in. She’s not losing this chance.. Not like before.. The Beldam kept pushing and pushing, her robotic form at it’s limit, but she didn’t back down. Suddenly, as if by a flash, her entire body glitched so badly that it sent an entire electric shock, shutting of power in the room as she’s left in the dark. The only light source was the green mist, and her glitching self. She finally retracted her arm, which is now spazzing out from the glitches and shocks while melting to a green mist, as she started to cover her mouth to restrain herself from vomiting.

Unfortunately, from her robotic body not taking the pressure too well, succumbed and made a mess on her desk, oily and the same colour as licorice.. But it’s not oil or licorice.. Coughing, and panting from the sudden vomit and pain she felt all over herself, fell to the ground into the thin layer of mist, that was once her victims. “I thought it would work.” The Beldam sighed, her voice now sounding glitchy and choppy. She was a bit startled, What happened to my voice? It sounds.. New. She pauses for a while, as if she’s in deep thought. Hm. Perhaps I went a bit too overboard.. The Beldam thought, realizing her thoughts were also glitchy. She sighs, noticing her body still shaking a bit from the severe amount of electrocutions and the glitching. She’ll have to be more careful next time, she doesn’t want to recreate another machine, she doesn’t have enough parts for it. She looks back at her hand, realizing the severe impact on what she did, and looks around the dark room, groaning. Great, now she has to get the power back on..

Hope you liked the story! Making a reference for Coraline, while redesigning Wybie and figuring out the designs for Ms. Spink and Forcible! Everything's coming together!! So excited!

[the-bloody-sadist]

Hi, it's been a while - I haven't looked at anything bsd related in a while (besides just reading the last chapter of the sinner epilogue) because it's not one of my current fixations, but I wondered if I could hear more from you about emotions? Recently my brain has been rotten by a love of computers and robots and maths and physics and I have been obsessively consuming all versions of I have no mouth and I must scream (have you heard of it? If not, ihnmaims is a short sci-fi story written by Harlan Ellison about an AI, AM, torturing the last 5 humans). The relationship between Ted and AM is fascinating to me, especially in terms of what 'emotions' AM feels towards him, and it reminded me of something that I think you wrote about how intertwined hate and love are - how hate is to care enough about a person to want their suffering and pain (I'm not entirely sure if that was you, forgive me if I'm wrong-). I'll spare you my ramblings about the story itself unless you are interested in hearing more, but I am very curious about your perspective on a being who was created for war, gained sentience and immense power and intelligence but will never be free, will never belong, will never play Mozart on the ivory keys of a fortepiano... a being who cannot feel in a way we can conceive but is driven by hatred, who craves humanity or release yet cannot die, who has no mouth but must scream.

There is a point where AM invades Ted's mind, ramming The Hate Monologue in the form of a steel pillar into his mind - some of the lines in this section make me go a little bit feral - "AM touched me in every way I had ever been touched, and devised new ways, at his leisure, there inside my mind."

It's incredibly intrusive, and for Ted there is no escape from AM - it's physical machinery covers the entire planet and the humans live within it, it's 'belly slaves'. As AM cannot die it keeps them alive, pretty much immortal (but not indestructible) and in the end, Ted too has no mouth though he must scream.

It's a fascinating mix of hatred, envy, deification, love (?), hope, resignation, invasion, co-dependence, wires and viscera that can never mix or understand each other but are the same in every way.

Apologies for the rambling infodump (especially if you have already read it/have absolutely no interest in this sort of thing - this isn't a rec, just my putrefied brain matter leaking into your ask box), I should really be asleep right now so I would not be surprised if this is entirely incomprehensible.... I just want to study them under an electron microscope.... It's a very grim story, with a powerful sense of the indomitable human spirit but very grim nonetheless. The hyperfixation is hyperfixating....

Anyway I should shut up, and I would love to hear your thoughts (I don't even know what I was intending this ask to be .. I can't remember now but I don't think it was .. this..) and thank you for putting up with this mess of a message- hope you have a lovely day/night!

- 🪼

P.S. oh yes! I loved the last chapter of sinner's epilogue- your writing never fails pluck my heartstrings like.. a very strange surgeon (?)(I'm so sorry I am very tired)(I have no brain and I must sleep...) I adore how you write Fyodor's experience of emotion and (as always) Dazai's fear and panic-

Okay listen, I don't plan to get into this story (I've watched essay videos on it so I do know about it, at least), but I respect how much time you took describing this to me in my asks box, so I'm putting it out for anyone else who might find it cool!

Despite my love for psychological trauma, some stories are a certain flavor that I know I shouldn't get into, and IHNMAIMS belongs in that category. Pretty sure if I read it it'll haunt me for the rest of my life and I'll have to deal with a big depressive episode over it for the weeks after, WHICH IS NEVER FUN.

This and other reasons are why I never read A Little Life, and then I learned that I dodged a bullet by putting the book down on the first instance of Jude's cutting episodes, BECAUSE OH MY GOD DUDE THAT STORY DID NOT HANDLE IT THE WAY I NEEDED IT TO BE HANDLED AND I COULD SMELL WHERE THE STORY WAS GONNA GO WITH IT AND TAPPED OUT. I won't get into the frustration of A Little Life but IHNMAIMS felt like it would be that same level of too much grim, not enough plot?? for me. Does that make sense? Too much bad happening just feels like dragging myself through mud without reason, making myself miserable by enduring hours of hurt-no-comfort LMAO

Regardless, thanks for talking to me about it! I knew most of the details of the story, but it was entertaining to read your description of it--I'm glad you find such interest in the story!

ALSO THANKS FOR THE COMPLIMENTS ON THE NEWEST SINNER EPILOGUE, I'M ACTUALLY WRITING YET ANOTHER ONE CURRENTLY...AHAHA....THEY NEVER STOP....we'll see how long it takes me since my writing has been out of touch with me for a while, but fingers crossed! <3

[pupintransit]

A couple years back there was some drama in the SCP community. This is going somewhere i promise.

A story there, SCP-2721, went and made a lot of people very upset for reasons that only make sense if you're predisposed to not letting people have fun writing silly stories. Ostensibly the story documents a strange satellite orbiting the moon. It's made up of two parts, one mostly flesh and the other mostly machinery, connected together by a biomechanical cord. The Foundation doesn't know why it's there but the writings the satellite creates suggests something nefarious. The flesh part (LYRE) finds humanity via Tumblr and through this discovery forms a new identity as a trans woman. She starts a blog, becomes a Homestuck fan, and eventually the mechanical part (LORD) learns to be happy for her.

As a piece of fiction I do not care for it. It's a really interesting concept but I think it leans too hard into the Tumblr fandom culture and becomes alienating and embarrassing to read in a way I don't think the author intended. That's part of the negative attention it received. As much as i don't condone the vitriol the author received, the more I learn about Homestuck and its fandom the worse my life gets. But that wasn't why it got hated on en masse the way it did; It was due largely to LYRE identifying specifically as a trans woman.

There's plenty of stories in the canon of science fiction where aliens and robots learn about humanity and become "more human" as a consequence. There's an episode of Star Trek TNG where an alien develops a gender and gets in shit from her culture about it, and becoming "more human" was basically Data's whole ass character development. Why not have fun with that? Why not have something inhuman decide that, in discovering the intricacies of human society, that being specifically a trans woman is what speaks to them? It spoke to LYRE after all. She found a kinship with a group of humans she could relate to, and in so doing finds a new purpose and abandons the broadly hostile task she was created to perform.

So, here's why I'm leading this mini-essay with a review of a barely passable sci-fi story about a space abomination who learns that she's trans: I wish i were a trans man. Had I been AFAB and transitioned into a trans man I would have had a better quality of life than I do now.

Let's unpack that, shall we?

It's an unconventional thing to apsire to, especially as someone who is AMAB and is basically indistinguishable from a cisgender man right up until you get to my neovagina. For a lot of trans men that's their goal, to not get clocked and be perceived simply as "a man." It's my husband's goal at least, and he's told me (politely) that he doesn't understand the appeal of why being a trans man is aspirational to me. The things about the AFAB experience that I find envious are the sort of thing he transitioned to get away from.

For one, I would have loved a natal vulva. I adore my neovagina, do not misunderstand me. It will stand at the best decision i've ever made until they put me in the ground. But there's things it won't ever be capable of. I would have liked a larger clit for example, and it would have been so exciting to watch it grow in size the further into taking testosterone I get. It would've made sex easier as well. I'd be able to naturally lube myself up with way less of a warm-up, and I wouldn't have to dilate in order to maintain the health of that organ. Those aren't things i can accomplish with the body i have now.

Second, I might have liked having breasts. Smaller boobs run in my family so if I worked out my chest enough I wouldn't need top surgery; they'd just look like softer than normal pecs. Even if top surgery were something i decided i need, it wouldn't be near as disabling as my vaginoplasty. It would still suck on toast and i'm not pretending otherwise, but my husband and other trans masc friends were back to their normal lives by around a month and a half. I've still got at least nine more months until that's true for me.

And finally, and this one is still odd to say out loud for me but... I wish i were able to become pregnant. Occasionally I'll get into a dysphoric zone where it'll dawn on me that my vaginal canal doesn't lead anywhere. There's no uterus or ovaries or cervix attached to it. The only way i can think to describe it is that i feel a physical emptiness inside me. I never really wanted biological kids and for a long time I didn't want to ever be pregnant even if i had the parts for it. It does weird shit to your body after all, so me wanting to avoid it is understandable. But i don't want to avoid it anymore. I want to feel something grow inside me, and nuture a life with my body. I want to have a uterus, to ovulate, and to experience a pregnancy while still being masc presenting. And I could have done that if I were a trans man, but barring a very impressive advancement in medical science that won't be possible in my lifetime.

And I feel guilty about wanting to be a trans man for those reasons because so many of them hate their bodies for the exact same reasons I would want to love mine. Sure, there's plenty of transgender men who like all or some of their "female" body parts and don't feel the need to medically transition into something that passes as cis, but enough do and are vocal about their dysphoria to where i have a bad taste in my mouth for wanting what i do.

Writing this is a challenge as well because I'm trying to balance expressing my feelings honestly while simultaneously not romanticising a lived experience i don't have, nor infantilizing a group of queer folks by indirectly inferring that I know how they do or should feel about themselves. Am i doing a good job at that? I suppose i'll find after i post this fuckin' thing.

A question that gets posed to trans people a lot is, if you could push a button to become cisgender, would you do it? My husband would; being a cis man from the start would have solved a lot of his problems. I can't say that i would make that choice though. I could in theory push the button to make myself a cis woman and that would get me most of the way to where i want to be in terms of physical sensation, but i wouldn't feel like myself. I love being hairy, i love my masculinity, and i love being a man with a cunt. For me, what I want out of my life relies on my body being a specifically transgender one. My ideal transition goals would have me become a transgender man.

And is that honestly such a strange thing for someone AMAB to want?

Gender transition is a very unique experience for the folks who go through with it. Everyone wants different things, and even though i have trouble understanding why anyone would want a cock and balls (they're so bulky! and in the way! all the time!), I do understand feeling like your body is wrong or incomplete. In a perfect world we'd be able to design ourselves from scratch and pick whatever parts we want. Why not have fun with that? Why not make an active choice as a cis woman to give yourself a cock and balls, or give yourself a uterus and become pregnant as an non-binary AMAB? Culturally we view gender transition as being a shift from one end of the spectrum to the other, and it doesn't have to be. If you want to be one sex, both, neither, or in my case transition specifically into being a transgender man, that can and should be seen as a valid choice.

Maybe SCP-2721 isn't such a bad story after all.

[mandy4ever69420]

i would like to see the og version :D

man if yr sure. anyway i do love fanfiction i think it's fun but i am the weirdest person to be talking about fanfiction.

i find fanfiction to be a really fascinating medium TBH it can tell you a lot about people what they look for and write about. and one thing i learned watching shameless is that the general vibe of shameless is pretty much what i want out of a fanfic. like, watching it i remember specifically thinking "this is what i'd been literally looking for reading xyz" which is a little weird for shameless fanfiction, no? fanfic as a medium has its own genre conventions so most (not all) (i <3 conceptual fic) fanfictions intentionally or not make their stories slightly more like fanfiction than like the source material. normal. Funny enough, the fanfic that's most closely ever actually matched the tone of shameless to me was written for homestuck

the MAIN THING i want to say about. the way i read fanfiction. and the fact that i am a lunatic. is that like. i kind of became an expert for some reason in sniffing out people's political and social biases really fast. and i can sometimes spend more time psychoanalyzing an author than i do worrying about the story. this comes up a lot when the law ever gets involved but also just.. you can tell exactly where someone is on their "how to be gay" journey by how they write it. i think what people write as escapism can in general tell you more about what they consider normal/safe/acceptable than if they just tried to explain to you their beliefs (see: are there royals/rich people as protagonists? what is the time period being discussed?)

BUT wrt fanfiction's genre conventions id make note that most fanfiction is very much in the romcom niche. which is a super disrespected genre in film/published lit in the same way and for the same reasons fanfic gets dismissed a lot. erotica is also a very frequently dismissed and disrespected genre. not only are romances seen as frivolous, but sex as shameful or cheap. <-also relevant to the way that sex work is dismissed when ex. working in an amazon warehouse takes as much or more of a toll on someone's body.

1 thing i love to see is weird niche interests and jobs. lots of opportunities in a fully freeform zero interest groups/showrunners/advertisers genre to get someone explaining the intricacies of being a mail carrier or quality controlling machinery. it's always frustrating to me to see rock stars and secret agents when we have all the time in the world to get sunshine cleaning (2008) with it.

it's also a good format for more or less endless speculation development and character moments. which is what fanfiction was built for. in published work there has to be a ticking clock to keep the audience's (and network exec's) attention, but you can assume if someone looked something up, you already have their attention. that's not to say not going for a plot-heavy conflictful story, just that there's no need to build in a requirement end/goal. you have all the time in the world because you're not batting to get a new season. no shark jumping required. <- this is somewhere that shows like mr. robot and the bear really fuck up i think. if your end goal would finish your story, you can't make meaningful moves towards it without losing your renewal & your plot is sort of barred from going anywhere or doing anything, while also demanding that you try every time

unfortunately for a lot of fanfiction FOR ME though is that sometimes the "make things sweeter" impulse that comes with the genre (part of the genre) (not necessarily a writing flaw) tends to put me off a bit. it's a big part of what i love in shameless: when someone is in the hospital it's a bit more "waiting room filling out forms and trying not to look at other people crying" and less "patiently waiting by your bedside with roses". something about detailing the shitty terrible sides of situations that pop up a lot in romances really scratches a specific itch in my brain. this contradicts the romcom genre in some ways (though there are romcoms that do this sort of thing)

i also happen to love AUs. im literally like an AU guy. though for me one of the most important things to keep in mind is matching tone, i really dont like when things get changed in terms of what they FEEL like. into like, something that isn't weird and pathetic and fucked up. SAD!

i'm also unreasonably resentful of retcons/AUs to avoid a sad thing happening. i think stories are better when all the horrible shit absolutely happened and the ending is good anyway. it's a kinder way to look at trauma to me. the person who lived through the worst thing you can imagine can live in a happy story! i also just love to feel a little bit like i'm eating glass with fiction.

(also, specifically for shameless, i've noticed this intense impulse some people have to definitively characterize mickey as not a rape or hate crime survivor. it's an attempt to make a story "happier" that also happens to ignore how horrifying to me mickey sleeping with women in other contexts is. what happened with svetlana is in some ways a literalization of the kinds of social pressure that mickey was always under. best description i can think of is "how far away is the gun?" -- a lot of the "reasoning" for AUs as to why mickey wouldn't have been hate crimed comes across weirdly like victim blaming - i know that's not what people mean, but it's what you're saying when you say "if it weren't for ian, mickey never would've let his guard down like that" - his guard wasn't down, he made all the right choices wherever he could, and ian canonically blaming himself doesn't mean he was right about it. i also think the idea that mickey would otherwise be too smart or too tough to make the "mistake" of getting caught shows some messed up ideas about what people think of real world people who do survive hate crimes and abuse.)

fanfiction is very much the sort of thing that is for having a mental breakdown of the eating ice cream on the couch variety. obviously talking about fanfiction having romanticized tropes is like watching a mob movie and being like "whys there so many italians here" so i'm aware that's just genre.

ANYWAY TO MY OWN PERSONAL INSANE NICHE: DIALECT!

this is about fanfiction, AND gif and television captioning. people mix up mickey's working class white dialect with AAVE a LOT. working class and Black american dialects certainly interact a lot and have similarities, but they're not the same. also AAVE has a lot of complexities and nuances that speakers of other dialects definitely borrow from where something like standard american is lacking. i'm not an L1 speaker of AAVE but i do notice myself borrowing where a structure is just much, much clearer than anything else. al7ayaa hek

there are ways in which an lot of these mixups make sense. especially with gifmakers/captioners/authors who happen to be british. mickey DOES use double negatives (btw, this is a feature of many languages, including closely related german) occasionally (i think), and famously "you ain't window shopping" but i can't think of any occasion where he uses a construction like habitual "be" or a "you been a pain in the ass the whole time i known you" (made up example) he also doesn't exempt "have" from "where the hell have you been", he just reduces it to a single schwa sound.

when mickey says "doesn't mean i'm gonna wear a dress" it's absolutely true that he's not articulating the "s" and taken purely literally "don't" is closer to what you heard. culturally, however, "don't" has a different pronunciation than "doesn't" in a way unrelated to the "s". the biggest difference is in the vowel. so mickey's "doesn't" is "glottal stop-schwa-syllabic N-glottal stop" where as "don't" written in that same spot gramatically will read as "d-oʊ-glottal stop"

shameless netflix captioners do something similar with lip. he gets captioned as "aight" a lot when he doesn't articulate "lr" - technically, literally, closer to his actual utterance. but the connotations bring up a different pronunciation entirely. lip isn't white boy carl.

i think unfortunately in addition to being mistakes made by people with little understanding of or exposure to the details of AAVE these can often be based on people's assumptions about what a poor or "criminal" or "uneducated" accent sounds like, moreso than on actual observation of speech patterns. which is just like. a slightly subtler form of racism

anyway. since i'm on this topic i just want to mention that i'm fairly sure ian's speech changes in s10/11 to be more similar to mickey's. i haven't been taking very careful note of his speech patterns but i think it's cute.

[neoyi]

No Straight Roads is an impressive First Good Try from a newcomer developer. It's a bit clunky (loose jump mechanics; weird fixed camera angles during stages prior to boss fights; some uh, choice voice acting, though the latter is largely relegated to NPCs), but it's visually surreal and enticing, and the game is a mastery of nuanced depths and inner secrets coming from each of the major characters.

Naturally, I was immediately drawn to the robot boy band, which, conceptually alone, is fantastic. This is such an evil thing for a major corporation to do. You have advanced machinery designed to be the perfect entertainment system, drawing in millions of fans and their money. They're completely ageless and can be exploited for however long is needed, and if one "dies", another can replace it. 1010 is diabolical.

But NSR one-ups this amusingly bizarre backdrop by adding 1010's manager and his contribution alone simultaneously explains a lot about the game's creativity and charm, AND his character. NSR isn't above emotional and heartbreaking moments, but it constantly maintains an upbeat, positive energy; fittingly Neon J's war background is portrayed as hammy and comical.

But they're not making fun of him for being a strait-laced soldier (well, a bit, but not in a mean-spirited way.) NSR is really good about laying out the cards and letting you find and piece together why these people act the way they do. And I'm just so damn bewildered and in awe that this man, clearly a war veteran and possibly enduring PTSD, decided the best way to cope is to take his toy-making skills and create a military-themed boy band. Art is therapeutic, after all.

And it somehow works? Like there is something absurd, but fitting about a former war vet addressing his band as soldiers and treating them as such. It's just another form of training, just replace guns with dancing, and any war fields with a stage platform. It's kind of fucked up, honestly.

I can see why fans have latched headcanons of this guy being a father to his boy band. Like in-game, he portrays the army-specific "Father to his Men" and hints of his backstory seem to imply that his robotic toys are very important to him. I mean, he's an artist, and a lot of artists extend a lot of themselves and a generous pouring of love (sometimes a little too much) into their crafts.

And then you see this and go, okay, yeah, I think the fans are onto something. He could have easily replaced any of these bots from an attack like that. Neon didn't have to get up front to try and protect them.

Of course, this could be another extensive of his military background; he's protecting his men because it's what he was trained to do. Maybe it's subconscious that way. Maybe he's already lost so many of his friends and brothers-in-arm that he just dived in. But I think it's abundantly clear 1010 aren't just soulless tools to him.

And like, the guy has, at least, a decent sense of morals. I'm not sure how he feels about associating with a capitalist company (and to be fair, NSR isn't really about that, though I guess I could argue that the people high up are as much victims in their own myopia that they failed to notice the greater issues as much as Bunk Bed Junction is), but he's one of the first to point out Bunk Bed Junction's chaotic method isn't exactly any better (he is correct, there wasn't any damn reason to break a nine-year-old kid's piano.)

This is kind of what I mean when I say NSR's characters has layers. So much that for a game I powered through in two days, it had a lot to say about its cast, and it does it with gusto. There's a lot I could probably talk about Neon J and 1010 (do the latter have self-awareness? Is he a cyborg because he suffered severe war wounds?)

Also holy shit, their Christmas upgrade. Words can't EVEN.

[holdoncallfailed]

wouldn't even mind the "the body horror the machinery the juxtaposition of blood and bones gorehound the eroticism of transformation consuming someone is the highest form of love blah blah blah" thing if anyone was genuine about it it's so boring because it's like almost nobody actually cares or is thinking about it half of them are just trend hopping and making the same post over and over again. imo 😴😴😴

yeah i mean to me personally i don't find violence that interesting on an aesthetic or narrative or WHATEVER level, i think it's frequently used in a symbolic context by people who are not creative enough to come up with a more interesting representation for the message of their work. it comes across as trite and sophomoric or simply just lazy. like ok yeah we all had our tarantino phase, let's move on!! i think it can be utilized well but only in certain contexts (i.e. fine art [paintings, sculpture] where the medium is itself traditionally understood as austere and inert and the violence of the image contrasts with that association) and by very talented creators who are actually trying to say something interesting and new about humans and their bodies and the relationships between people etc. which most people aren't.

and don't get me wrong i love a good freudian stabbing scene but there's so much more interesting stuff you can get into wrt psychoanalysis particularly in cinema if you like...actually study the subject and see what people have been writing about for years and develop your own opinions in response to them. the politics of horror media are really complicated imo depending on what school of thought you're coming from, particularly in regards to body horror/depictions of non-normative bodies across different film genres. and of course the misogyny and racism involved as well...

i don't care about the eroticism of the machine stuff because i genuinely think it's stupid LOL it's just not to my taste at all. who gives a shit about a robot it's a robot. but i'm also allergic to sci-fi in general so that's a personal problem i guess. and i don't like vampires because i don't like Creatures or anything supernatural. i want REAL LIFE baby!!!!

but in the end ur right it's just trend hopping and most ppl aren't reading or even watching whatever media is always included in that kind of post, they just see blood consumption eroticism holy holy and hit reblog lol. which is fine i don't read everything i reblog quotes from. still...a little effort would be nice

[badly-drawn-ghost]

Alright, so I wrote this one sometime in the summer while I was sleep deprived and probably dehydrated. Most of this is built around the original idea, which was for a power system for something. Ended up focusing way too much on the tech aspect of it and sorta forgot about the main thing for a bit. This is gonna be lengthy, since it’s taken directly from my notes. Just a warning before you read the rest.

Example: Desecration, a cursed weapon that takes the form of a Glaive, with a glowing orange blade. The true name of the lich is Coluar, the Shadow Emperor of Flawrest. The glaive’s ability is called Hell’s Legion, and it uses the Voyant’s blood to summon shades to aid the wielder in combat. These Shades all wield lesser, spectral versions of Desecration, and can each use it’s ability to summon weaker Shades. This can lead to the enemy being easily overwhelmed by a massive army of Shades. Shatter ability: the shades transform into monstrous beasts, fusing with the spectral glaive and becoming Eldrich fusions of shadow and some other element. When Coluar takes control over Evelyn, this changes to having complete control over her blood. This version does not have a name yet, though it is suspected to be the “full” version of Hell’s Legion that Coluar can use.

The Voyant of Desecration is named Evelyn “Cycle” Châtirel. She’s happy-go-lucky, usually looking on the bright side of things. She isn’t terribly smart, but she’s optimistic and loves adventure. Also, she has a robotic arm, and keeps steampunk-style goggles on her forehead at all times. While controlled by Coluar, she’s known simply as “Cycle”.

This concept would work well in a cyberpunk-style world, where cursed weapons will most often take the form of laser-based or disintegration-based weaponry.

Said cyberpunk world’s tech, key figures, and other stuff:

HELIX(es): Gigantic, robotic and mechanical violent monstrosities that roam the wasteland.

Myriad Walker(s): Robotic battlesuits, designed for war. Heavily armored and armed.

Ash-Gatling(s):High-power LASER rifles that fire fast. The shots are devastating. Named for the ash-gray coloration of the shots.

Impulse suit(s): Smaller, more speed and agility focused war suits. Less armor, less weaponry, and a smaller size means it can move faster, and get in and out quickly.

Chimera(s): Devastating war suits built for siege. Slower, but with heavier weaponry and devastating flame and white phosphor cannons means it can lay waste to anything it comes across.

Titan(s): Gigantic, crashed ships that litter the Quiet Wastes. Most of them are half-buried, and have heavy damage that’s unrepairable.

LOCATIONS:

Quiet Wastes: the desert wasteland once known as the continent of Europe. Almost entirely irradiated sand, drinkable water and clean air is hard to come by. Highly dangerous, as HELIXes and corrupted Myriad Walkers roam everywhere. Crashed and broken machinery is everywhere. What little water you can find is usually highly acidic, to the point of melting skin and bones.

New Harmony: the dystopian city that occupies what was once all of france. Lead by the New Harmony Government (NHG), and surrounded by gigantic walls, it’s dangerous to go anywhere outside of the city, and highly illegal. It has sky-high crime rates, and hardly a day goes by without some sort of murder being reported. The NHG is also very corrupt, often taking bribes from CYEO.

Haven: a city of near-mythical status, on the continent of what was once North America. It’s said throughout New Harmony that Haven is a safe, crime-free, HELIX-free city where the air is clean, even outside the city.

TITAN #37: The wreckage of a massive Titan that’s mostly intact, though it has no power source. It’s called Titan #37 because that’s what was painted on the side. It’s often used as a base or camp when people manage to escape the walls of New Harmony.

ORGANIZATIONS:

CYEO(CYbernetic Escalation Opposition): Despite the name, CYEO is the lead producer of tech, androids, prosthetics, mechs, and cybernetics. It’s the organization that controls most of New Harmony, and directly and secretly controls the NHG. It is corrupt, and its CEO is unknown.

Note: I should really summarize this, and write more about the New Harmony Government(NHG) itself. And probably weave the main idea of the story into it more.

[ozzyfromthecafeteria]

Hey! No problem if you dont want to answer this given The Everything but i saw your tags on the objectum/otherkin/therian post and I was wondering if youd mind sharing like sort of what that means for you and like uhhh what your experience being objectum & otherkin has been like? It's not something I know a ton about but I find it interesting and idk I guess I'm just curious! No pressure ofcourse :)

oh absolutely sure! saying now that for myself, being neurodivergent and queer does heavily tie into both objectum and otherkin, but it’s not like that for everyone nor does one need to be in order to be objectum and/or otherkin!

tackling the otherkin first-off, to get really specific i am robotkin! (though i have been eyeing up conceptkin as of lately… but that’s a conversation for another time, i believe.) i personally relate to machinery a lot, on the bases of well. general disconnect from feeling Human (gestures towards the good ol’ autism and adhd combo lunch meal pack) also difficult to explain but most if not all machines are designed and built to carry out some form of Purpose or Function, which really strikes a certain link within me that i can’t quite put into words? but i hope makes sense in some way. to be honest robots are cool and i do would like to be one!

objectum. smiles so widely full of happy. i love discussing being objectum at any chance i get it’s so wonderful! want to clarify now that i’m also posic, which isn’t necessarily the same thing as being objectum, but those two have melded together so much for me that it’s hard for me to differentiate and distinguish the two in my experiences. now, i tend to love most objects and have some degree of attraction to them, but i find that the kind of objects i get really infatuated with are space machinery! primarily the hubble space telescope in particular. honorable mentions of various objects i love so so much are the seattle space needle, nintendo 3ds, record players, radio dishes… honestly the list goes on and on. objects are not safe from my love and care and warmth for them. important addition is that in my experience i tend to heavily fall and care for objects i own, like sweaters, tshirts, office supplies, etcetera, and i don’t entirely have a good guess on why? i assume it’s because i personally own it and by extension spend more time either using it or in its presence that i end up picking out details of the object that make me swoon for it.

i only found out what being objectum was last year from a server i’m in, but looking back at as much as i can hazily remember from the past that i’ve just… always been posic and objectum, simply never had a word for it until fairly recently. favorite stuffed animals as a kid that i had strong friendships with, comfort and familiarity and bonds with anything i came in touch with, really!

being objectum and otherkin are pretty integral pieces of my identity i think, especially since i’d say they influence just how i approach the world if that makes sense? particularly with being objectum because damn do i Love Those Things! i’m getting a little bit tired now so this is what of most i could get out into sentences, but i hope it helps with understanding! ^_^

[docmartenmommy]

Chapter 1: The Beginning

It’s well past your bedtime. Stretching, letting out a yawn as your footsteps echo across the hallway.

Viktor called you to his lab to assist with his newest idea. Like most of his inventions, he’s confident this one will succeed to benefit Piltover.

Despite the fact that the two of you were born in Zaun, Viktor wants to bring progress to the topside.

Zaun. Home. A makeshift one at least to you. The underground city that never sleeps, the one you crave. It’s notorious for its flaws, but it has its perks. One of them being Viktor. The fact that a place like Zaun could produce a revolutionary like Viktor is nothing short of a miracle.

You can recall all the inventions you two worked on together as kids. A motorized toy boat being your favorite. You remember how much energy Viktor put into building it, how he would follow it up and down the streams in Zaun. He ended up giving you the toy boat after an argument. You watched him build it from afar, crept over to see the detailed machinery and ended up finding a friend. You’ve spent nearly every day together since then, yet only fought one time. Viktor had been neglecting your friendship. He had been focusing all his energy on his toy boat. Perfecting every clog, adjusting its speed, tailoring the design. It was almost as if he had forgotten all about you. You can recall the words the two of you exchanged back then:

“Viktor.” A declaration, not a question. Not leaving any room for a response because you knew he wouldn’t give a good one.

“What?” He questioned without looking up or skipping a beat.

“I don’t want to be friends anymore. You only care about your stupid ship.”

He looked up at you from the ground for the first time in weeks. Eyes full of wonder, curiosity, accompanied by a strange softness. The beginnings of a frown on his face and in his eyes. Without saying a word he stood up. He sauntered over to you. Back then he was shorter than you at the time with a bigger personality. He looked up into your eyes. And spoke five words that made your heart skip. Five words that made you fall in love with him.

“I made it for you.”

He took your hands in his and put the ship in them, closing them around it.

He mumbled, “I wanted it to be perfect.”

And so your disagreement ended with a robotic boat and a newfound love for Viktor.

You shake the fond memory away and continue walking to the laboratory. You knock on the door gently and say, “Viktor, it’s me.”

“Come in,” Viktor shouted from deep inside the laboratory.

You sigh to yourself. Judging by the tone of his voice you are able to assume he’s in one of his moods again.

For as long as you can remember Viktor has had huge ideas. His unattainable dreams have held him back from learning much other than engineering, science, and technology. It’s held him back in all fields of life, but particularly the relationship field.

The door knob turned easily. You walked into the Viktor’s domain, closing the door behind you. Shocked by how dark the laboratory is, you blinked slowly waiting for your eyes to adjust. “You should turn on a light or two, Viktor. It’s really dark in…”

You trailed off as you locked eyes with Viktor’s. His golden eyes always take your breath away. Most comparable to the warmth of the sun or the depths of the sea his eyes tell the stories that his mouth cannot form.

You snapped out of your trance and mumbled the words, “What did you need my help with?”

“I’ve been working on something new. I’ve sketched it and calculated the possibilities. It’s completely mind blowing. Making a prototype will not be too difficult. Unfortunately, it will be incredibly time consuming. I request your presence every night for the time being. I apologize. I hope you’ll understand that I’d like to prioritize this.”

A silent celebration ran through your brain. Spending every night alone with Vikor? Just the thought of it puts a smile on your face.

“Yes.. of course I understand.”

“Excellent,” he commented as he turned around and buried his head in his notes.

You walked over to him and peeked over his shoulder to get an idea of what you might be working on. “This looks complicated. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer Jayce’s help? I can only do so much. I’d hate to mess it up.”

“It’s much easier than it may appear. I don’t plan on showing this idea to Jayce for a while. I’d much rather work with you,” he turned to face you. His eyes went soft and he wore an adorable grin. “Consider it for ehh old times sake.” He stuttered, blushing.

“Alright, I trust your judgment. What exactly are we working on?” you asked as you sat.

Viktor’s smile brightened the room as he pulled his head out of his notes and began his invention pitch. Explaining it in great detail, speaking with his hands, and showing you his sketches were just a couple of the components in his lecture. You were too busy admiring the components of his body. His long black hair, which was in desperate need of a trim. The beauty mark below his right eye. His hands, adorned with scars from metal scraps that had torn his soft pale skin. The thing you looked at most was the smile tugging on his lips.

Apparently the smile was easy enough to get lost in because Viktor had been saying your name for the past minute.

“Y/N are you listening?”

God, you love the way he says your name. His thick accent and intelligent tone striking the syllables in a way that no one else could possibly replicate.

“Yes, Viktory,” you replied with the nickname you’d crafted for him during your childhood, “Just soaking it in, that’s all.”

“Excellent. Read through my notes, while I finish this part. Copy some down for yourself.”

He offered you the notebook, full of information Viktor pieced together from scratch. You took it carefully. Your hands brushed during the transfer, unnecessarily almost like he did it on purpose. Shrugging away the thought you skimmed through the notes, but they made little sense considering the fact you’d spent the whole lecture pining after Viktor, and were written in chicken scratch that resembled hieroglyphics. It has been no longer than ten minutes when he inquired your opinions on the subject.

“Need any assistance?”

He was dangerously close behind you. You must’ve been too focused to hear the sound of his cane during his approach. A wave of shock coursed through your body as his warm breath on the side of your neck as he hunched over your shoulder to see the notes. As if it couldn’t get more tense, his hand was positioned on the small of your back. You were practically melting.

A swallow and a breath worked as an attempt to calm down before uttering a jumbled sentence. “Yeah, honestly I don’t really understand what this means at all.. the diagrams are really confusing. It’s as if it’s in a different language.”

You swore you could see a smirk from your peripheral vision as he asked, “Hm.. would you like me to explain it to you again?”

A nod was all you could offer in response. He moved from behind you to in front of you so you could see him. Viktor offered you a hand.

“I think a.. kinesthetic demonstration may help.”

You placed your hand in his and stood up, making sure he didn’t have to strain himself to pull you out of your seat. The two of you were face to face.

“Maybe you’ll actually pay attention this time, now that we’re touching.

A dark blush spread all over your face when the words he said registered. It extended down your neck. Viktor ignored it, beginning his lecture.

“Pick me up,” he said blatantly, leaning his cane against the table.

“What?”

“I said pick me up. I’m serious, try to.”

“What does this have to do with science?”

“You’ll see,” he said.

The small of his waist was easier to find than you thought it would be. You dug your hands into his side enough where you could get a good grip, but not enough to hurt him.

Breathe in, breathe out.

The first time was a complete fail. The second time you were pretty close. On the third try things were different. By this point you had concluded that squeeze and lift didn’t work, plus Viktor was much heavier than he looked. You got on your knees this time and looked up at him. To which he looked nervous about, almost flustered.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.. continue.”

You wrapped your arms completely around his waist, a surprised noise escaped his mouth as you leaned into him. Holding on and pushing him forward bent his figure in half. Legs clinging to your front you hoisted him, his torso soon hanging over your back.

This worked out great until the weight became unbalanced and you both collapsed on the floor.

“Viktor, are you okay?” You looked over at your friend, realizing that he was laughing.

His laugh was contagious, you began to laugh, too. The joyous sound erupted whilst Viktor and you lay on the floor. All the tense energy that had previously filled the lab decimated during the interaction.

He spoke, “I know this demonstration may seem pointless… it does indeed serve a purpose. While you may be strong you cannot lift me. Imagine if you could. What if you could bear the weight of me easily with one hand?

“Well, I’d lift you more often.”

“While you may be strong, perhaps you’re not as strong as you like, or as strong as you could be. Strength and evolution go hand in hand. If you could.. evolve yourself per se, to increase your abilities you could do the impossible.”

“You’re suggesting inventing super strength?”

“I’m suggesting inventing a way to make people better. Smarter, stronger.” He paused a moment before and his voice grew softer. “Healthier.”

Suddenly you understood. Viktor had lived his whole life with an unfair disadvantage due to being dealt a bad hand. Not only with disability completely out of his control, with sickness as well. The air pollution in Zaun had terrible effects on everyone’s lungs, including yours. For people less fortunate who already held less immunity, like Viktor, the effects were lifelong and life threatening.

“I will do whatever I can to help.” The words left your mouth instantaneously.

“Thank you, y/n.” Viktor pulled his sleeve back to check his wrist watch, one he had made a long time. “It’s getting late. You’re excused, rest well.”

“Aren’t you going to bed?”

He muttered the words ‘Soon’ and ‘Just a few more minutes’ although you knew both were a lie.

“Good night, Viktory.” You left the lab feeling a sense of achievement. As you walked back to your room you evaluated the new project that would help the man you loved, as well as benefit all of Piltover. More time with Viktor, an opportunity to learn more.

“This will be amazing,” you whispered to yourself as you drifted off to sleep.

[derekscorner]

The Ghost of Humanity

As with every topic this week, I was discussing with my friend Osprey, this time about Nier. The tragedy of the androids and machines. All that stuff you’ve heard from your favorite Youtuber before.

I was musing about how humanity is a ghost that hangs over the heads of these artificial lifeforms. Androids worship us as gods, the machines wish to become as gods.

The very actions the machines take, their disconnection from their network, and their finale are their desperate attempt to be human. But you likely already know this, you see it everywhere.

Machines tend to get close but not quite where they wish to be. Adam believes death and hatred define man, this is merely a portion. Eve is clingy and seeks companionship and loses his sanity when it’s gone, humans are a social species. The network develops and then fractures because, like the humans they idolize, they now have the individualism to conflict within the whole.

Most importantly to me, machines were bordering on a type of techno-biological life. They weren’t ever going to be human but they had the potential to be themselves. They just missed the forest for the trees.

I found this fascinating because if the machines of alien origin could get as far as birthing Adam from their robot orgy then androids should be closer. Androids, perhaps from the get go, could’ve become a life of their own. They already have a programmed (albeit it warped) humanity to them. They were made in the image of their “gods” as we ourselves are said to be.

Many of Automata’s missions showcase it from the android turned murderer because she was jealous of her lover, the very fact that androids can modify their bodies to have sex or take lovers, the very notion they can love at all.

They have relationships, emotionally, the androids are there. They’re at that level, they’re people. Physically, I believe they could be.

They wouldn’t be human, not fully biological life, but I do believe the androids could be their own form of life. Especially when you have YorHa units made of repurposed alien machinery.

The tragedy I’ve always found in this is why they don’t. The androids are programmed to serve humanity, the idea they may be gone was such an issue with discourse and outright suicide made our extinction a national secret.

We see how the loss of this purpose cracked 9S mentally, 2B’s death just finished the job as he truly had nothing left.

Worse yet, they likely just never considered the possibility. YorHa aside, the larger android population has likely never once considered branching out. They were programmed to do one thing and they perpetuate it.

They’re literally haunted by the 1s and 0s we put into the first androids and they’re hampered by a reverence for us that we gave them which we do not deserve in the slightest.

Again, I’m not saying they’ll magically become biological life or human, I just find a sadness in how they’re limited by something so minor. They could find new purpose, they could be a new type of life the barren earth needs but they never will be at the rate they’re going.

I believe the core of Automata’s story is the tragedy that we haunt these beings. We haunt the androids and the machines and it’s sad how we do so.

Editing this in because that theme can also be applied heavily to Nier. The original isn’t as nuanced since the literal remnants of humanity are in their death throes because even when split humanity tries to human.

Only this time, true to our own fucking nature, humanity manages to kill itself through the gestalt Nier. It’s poetic more than it is sad to me because our own mutual or self caused demise is the end I’ve always found most likely for our species.

The only tragedy here, to me, is that it’s the beginning of the androids aimless hell that is existing without their gods. Never able, or perhaps just unwilling, to consider growing beyond their boundaries.

[dragonshoard]

Crystal Friends AU

Powder makes robot bodies for the Namestones a variation of scorpions, crabs, and spiders (lol Vi discovers that she has an intense dislike for spiders after getting jumped scared by one particular Spider!Brackern, that is the most competitive with her for Powder's attention) and one Scorpion!Brakern likes to sit on Powder's back (as if it were a backpack) and offer her advice on certain situations and learns about the world that it now lives in; because I don't think the Namestones had much chances to see their surroundings.

On one particular day, about a year or so after discovering the Brackerns and building their bodies, Powder and co. go Topside to scavenge parts and loot luxury apartments (Powder feels more confident in these jobs now) but on the way to the job they pass by the academy where Jayce and Viktor are running a test on one of "their" Namestones and poor Powder and the Brackern on her back (we'll call her Fluer, because she's covered in metal flowers that Powder and Ekko painstakingly wielded together) can hear the Namestones screaming in agony; and all Powder and Fluer can do is listen.

Vi and the others become concerned when Powder just suddenly stops and starts screaming, they have to abandon the job to get her home because she's drawing attention; rather than being annoyed or angry though their just deeply concerned (even Mylo) because Powder hasn't had a breakdown like this in some time, and when she explains what happened they become angry on her the Brackerns behalf.

And this is how her journey into becoming Jinx begins, she uses Jinx as an alias and dons a disguise to become the biggest thorn in Piltovers side.

Stealing/liberating Namestones, crashing Hextech fundraisers, vandalizing buildings with Anti-Hextech propaganda, and so on; basically she becomes a Brackern activist and vigilante, her efforts to free the Brackern also benefits Zaun because with each Namestone liberated and Brackern-Bot created (yes, me and Mylo are totally calling them that 😂😂) Zaun gains more allies in the Brackern.

They help mend buildings and machinery around Zaun and use their infinite knowledge in magic to teach Powder and others (through Powder) who have magical potential how to harness magic and use it to benefit those around them.

Hooo boy, this ask is a long one I'll just dot point the rest 😅

Vander adopted Ekko because he had no one after Benzo's death, although Powder finds it hard to see him as a brother even though she loves him 👉👈 #Timebomb

Powder got Ekko to help her build the Brackern-Bots to distract him from witnessing Benzo's death.

Ekko still forms the Firelights because Silco and the Chembarons are still an issue.

Silco and Vander have a tentative truce, much like what Vander and Greyson had, and this is only possible because of Powder; a.k.a the only one out of Vander's kids that Silco likes 😂

She basically acts like a mediator/negotiator between the two men.

She's met Jayce and Viktor and begrudgingly admits that neither are bad people, she felt guilty about this until the Brackern told her that they don't fault either man for their part in the Brackerns circumstances because they don't know the harm their inflicting (having an infinite lifespan and knowledge can make you surprisingly forgiving).

She begrudgingly likes Caitlyn because of how happy and relaxed she makes Vi.

Annnd, Powder makes robot bees...

I'll tell you more about them another time 😜 😂

NOT THE SPIDERS KFDJNGKSJFNG

i feel lowkey sorry for everyone that has to deal with this entire family xD Sounds like a real mess.

The spider!brackern was the first one to comfort Powder. Change my mind (but don't really). And why am I thinking of Zim's pak when I think of Powder's scorpion bodied friend xD

Ye no the brackern went into hibernation sometime before the runic wars to evade that mess. They unfortunately didn't wake up in time to prevent the massive theft Camille's family perpetuated.

(BUT AWWW POWDER WITH WHAT'S ESSENTIALLY A FLOWER BACKPACK I CAN'T FJSKDFJSKDJ)

The thing about the brackern is that they're a hivemind. They probably could hear their kin from the Undercity regardless of the proximity. It's possible that up until that moment, the experiments on the namestones had been fairly undamaging, so they decided to simply monitor the situation. But then that incident happens and poor Powder who is tuned into the hivemind feels their pain the same way the rest of the hivemind does.

(Lowkey is Powder just part of the hivemind now? Integrated into it so now she's technically never alone.)

I could see her curled up in the aftershocks of the experiment, unable to really move to the frantic concern of her human family members. I could see her whimpering "it hurts make them stop" over and over again. She'd keep getting flashes of golden eyes (both Viktor and Jayce have gold elements to their eyes) and she absolutely panics the first time she meets either Jayce and Viktor.

Honestly though? I can see their being a situation prior to Powder becoming Jinx where Vander attempts to negotiate with topside. But unfortunately, the sheriff (his only in up topside) was still dead and therefore that attempt didn't amount to much.

I love the idea of Jinx becoming a brackern activist and vigilante, but I unfortunately am hesitant with saying that Powder and friends would snatch the namestones TT0TT. Because if Powder and the others started snatching the stones (rather publicly too), the whole of the undercity is going to pay for it (and there is no chemtech to protect them and - I love the brackern - but I'm not sure of what their physical capabilities are in the stones).

I'd like to think that maybe Vi and her brothers break into the labs to confront Viktor and Jayce (*cough* how she also meets Caitlyn eventually - through them *cough*). Pretty much yells at them to cut this shit out and be more careful with the namestones.

They are extremely curious and fascinated about meeting Powder but, again, the poor kid has a breakdown when she sees them - it kind of seals the realization that what they were doing was hurting sentient beings.

No but SCIENCE BROS. After Powder stops hiding from the hextech duo, she hangs out in their labs sometimes (always with one or two brackern paying close attention to her) though she keeps a fair distance away from the two. Powder gets her education from the brackern in what knowledge they have about runic magic and Powder hesitantly passes it down.

(and ye I can see most of the brackern letting Viktor and Jayce off the hook, but one or two having a very hard time doing so)

The Undercity becomes used to the idea of a child being a teacher in runic magic. I feel like a few parents with children who show some magic potential even come to her for help.

(Powder is just like - I have no idea what I'm doing plz don't make me do this. Vi is just very proud and saying stuff like 'you're doing great Pow-Pow!')

O fuck i forgot Benzo died xD Ye Ekko is getting adopted by Vander. TIMEBOMB TIMEBOMB LEGGOOOOO Powder has no idea she has a crush on him and is just like - what is wrong with me???

I feel like they would constantly be working to upgrade the bots so - ye. Ekko spending a lot of time with Powder working on that.

o no Silco is still alive xD that is a problem. How much you wanna bet he tries to snatch Powder when he realizes how much of an asset she is and then realizes he actually gives a damn about her wellbeing. Whenever Vander and Silco meet Powder is contractually obligated to stand in-between the men but rarely actually gets to say anything cuz they talk over her skjgnkfjgns

Caitlyn is on a very thin line, (1) for being a topsider and (2) for wanting to be an enforcer. One step out of place and she's out.

ROBOT BEES :DDDD

[the-sprog]

So since I'm very bad at remembering my ideas, I'm gonna throw this out there and hope one day I'm like "WAIT didn't I have an idea for a fic??? What was it???" And I will find it on my tumblr.

It's about Danny Phantom, obviously.

There are actually two of them in here so:

The easiest one: Jack and Maddie are not stupid. I mean they're scientists, the use the scientific method. One of the things about the scientific method is that if you do a bunch of tests, based on an hypothesis and only one of them comes out disproving it, then your hypothesis is incorrect.

Phantom has disproved basically all of their hypothesis.

So, next thing to do? Create a new one. Do new tests. They take Jazz's suggestion and try and see if the ghosts of Amity are actually conscious. Because obviously they're sentient, but are they like animals? Or are they like robots with artificial intelligence?

Or even better yet, are they like humans?

They grab Phantom's attention and ask him if he would cooperate for this test. A simple Turing test. Obviously they're still wary because of everything that happened with him, and do the test with witnesses to keep both Phantom's and their minds at ease.

He passed the test. With flying colors.

They're shocked and ask him if he knew peaceful ghosts that would be willing to take the test (because, y'know. Scientific method. Need to try over and over again). Phantom would have to explain that not all ghosts are as human-like as him (as, first of all, he's a halfa, but he doesn't say that. And second, lots of them are blobs or animal-like ghosts), but cue his parents meeting Jhonny and Kitty (cause I like the idea that they have a truce with Phantom and that going out of the zone helps them with their couple problems), as well as Shadow (example of a less human-like ghost). Then Sidney, Dora, the Fright Knight (cause king ghost Danny ftw) and Frostbite.

They all pass, more or less. Some, like Dora, the light and Sidney, where given away by their choice of word, but other than that all of them passed the test.

OK SO MORE COMPLEX ONE:

I love crossovers. I love finding ways of putting the two universes together, of making them work with each other, adapting the rules so that they apply to both. (With Danny Phantom it's also really cool to just... Make him travel the multiverse. He doesn't adhere to the rules of where he goes to, so it's always hilarious. But we're not here for that now).

One of the best ones to do this with is My Hero Academia. Whenever a show has someone with powers I end up asking myself "how should that work in the world of my hero?" And start trying to incorporate it in the lore.

So, first thing first, we're getting rid of the canon story of my hero. Completely unrelated to the show. This takes place decades in the past, when the first people where developing quirks (so if I wanted to write something with this and actually use my hero characters, I'd make it so that they where hit with a time traveling quirk or that Clockwork was somehow involved).

The Fenton's hatred for ghosts? Make it discrimination against the people who have quirks.

Danny being half-ghost? His quirk's fault. He calls it Ghost, for simplicity, it allows him to come back as a sort of ghost-like creature after he dies. Somehow, one day, he doesn't die completely so his body fixes it the only way it know how. Making him partially ghost.

Obviously that would mean that all the ghosts he fights aren't ghosts anymore. They're villains with quirks, and their powers would be based on what they can do on the show, minus the basic intangibility, invisibility and flight.

Obviously only Sam and Tucker would know he was Phantom and he had a quirk, he's also kinda the only one in town with one. People would be a little racist against quirk havers, but the kids, like in the show, come around to it. And actually start loving Phantom and thinking of him as a hero.

How do I fit Vlad in all of this? Ehm ahhhh this is the one thing I didn't think about. Very basic, but could give him a power similar to Danny, were instead of a ghost, he becomes a vampire. But his quirk is caused by an accident in college, so it's artificial.

Why does Skulker (who doesn't have a quirk. He's just a guy in a suit) hunt Danny? He has a very unique quirk.

Does Dani exist? I mean. Yeah. Cloning is not so farfetched, especially with the existence of quirks.

Clockwork can control time, he involuntary does that being a child, then an adult then an old man thing. The Observants are people without quirks that keep him in check, an organization that made a pact with him to stay young forever or something in change of idk what. No idea what Clockwork would get out of it I won't lie. Money maybe? Or somehow they found a way of keeping him there against his will?

Walker (and I'll make a seperate post about this) is an ex guy in white. Yes they still exist, but they hunt quirk havers instead of paranormal stuff. Walker was kicked out because he actually has a quirk but lied about it. He's after his own kind in the show as well. I mean, he's a stickler to the rules, but he only ever seems to care when it's ghosts that brake them. Correct me if I'm wrong, but never has he punished a human. His quirk is making semi-sentient minions. They're not copies of himself. They're like clay humans with basic forms. They all look alike and have no special characteristics.

Frostbite is just... A yeti. With cryokenisis. It's a mutation type quirk.

Same goes for Wulf, he's just a humanoid wolf that can create teleportation portals. I can't think of a reason why he would only speak Esperanto though. It could be something similar to Five from umbrella academy. He accidentally got stuck in the 1600 as a kid and managed to come back only relatively recently.

I feel like all the other ghosts have obvious powers.

Cujo can become ginormous,

Technus can control technology,

Dora and Aragon can become dragons,

Jhonny gives people bad luck and can control his shadow,

Kitty can make man disappear,

Ember can mind control using music,

Spectra can use people's negative emotions to stay young,

Bernard has shapeshifting,

Youngblood can't be seen by adults (side effect: can't grow old) and his sideckick has a variant of shapeshifting where he can only transform in animals. A definitive father figure),

Box ghost can control boxes,

Pandora can control the plagues of the world,

Desiré can make people's wishes come true,

Sidney can swap bodies with people,

Undergrowth can control plants,

Pariah Dark- I... Actually don't know...

Lunch Lady can control food,

Aaaanndddd no more come to mind.

I want to do something with this AU but I can't really think of an interesting story, other than "kids from 1A get misplaced in time and Danny has to help, discovering the existence of Clockwork and the Observants, whom he hates. So he tries to get Clockwork out of there with the other kid's help" but that's it, really.

I actually have a 3rd idea, but it basically works the same as the MHA one. Crossover with the X-Men.

Substitute quirk havers with mutants and quirks with mutations and you get the idea.

The plot would be more of a "Danny gets recruited by Xavier after the trauma of almost dying activated his mutation and goes to live at the mansion. This happens after the events of season 3, alla salted to make sense in the world of Marvel, but without Phantom planet. He makes friends there, since Sam and Tucker aren't with him and everything is fine and dandy and happy. Until it comes out that the Fentons actually contribute to the creation of the Sentinels, because they hate Phantom that much.

So Danny has to infiltrate his own family to get info on how the Sentinels work so they can destroy them, since his parents are still oblivious and they made it so that the Sentinels wouldn't attack Danny thinking that his accident just somehow make him register as a mutant on machinery" and that's it.

[cruelfeline]

I like to sit and think about Hordak's hands. And Entrapta exploring his hands for the for the first time.

I'd imagine that they're warm (which probably surprises people who assumes Hordak was some sort of robot or vampire or whatever) and pleasantly calloused along his palms. He works with so much machinery, after all. And so much of that work seems to be him doing things by hand. I'd imagine that years of tightening bolts and what-not has left his palms a little rough. And maybe a bit dirty sometimes, with oil or grease or whatever other machine-related detritus he's dealt with that day.

I feel like Hordak might be a little embarrassed by his hands sometimes. Not terribly, but just a little, mainly because Prime always preached a perfect, clean form. Everything on the Velvet Glove was so sterile, so shiny and white, that something dirty and rough would stand out.

Clones labored, of course, but they weren't supposed to get dirty while laboring. And they had tools to help them handle various tasks, so repetitive motions and tough materials didn't result in rough skin. Hordak, forced to work "primitively," has hands that show it. And it's just another little thing he dislikes about himself. Small, but nagging.

Now, Entrapta loves his hands. Their roughness matches her own, and that match is a big part of what helps Hordak be less self-conscious about them. After all, he loves Entrapta's small, work-worn hands - it never occurs to him to judge them as Prime would. Seeing that his are similar is heartening.

As an aside: Hordak's feet, conversely, are very soft. Taloned, yes, but otherwise soft. This is a side-effect of the footwear he uses: it's meant to help with his pain by providing support and cushioning, and that results in very little wear on his feet. He's got nearly no calluses on his soles, which Entrapta finds delightful because it means that he's very much ticklish there.

...there's not really a point to this post beyond me indulging the mental image of Entrapta stroking Hordak's roughened palm with her thumb. So there you go!