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fatuismooches · 10 months ago

Text

cor meum, manus tuas.

synopsis: After your illness strikes again, Dottore decides to gift you a failed experi-, a new companion in order to soothe your injured heart.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: A cute fluff fic where Dottie gives you Foxttore and the pufflings as a pet (the blue monster creature from Nahida's fairy tale.) He loves you a lot. Really just pure fluff and Foxttore getting on Dottore's nerves. Enjoy!

For as long as Il Dottore had known you, you had always been one to suggest things that he had no interest in. It was a habit of yours, and sometimes he’s not sure if you’re being genuine about it or if you simply want to rile him up, as you usually do.

One such example was back in the Akademiya when the two of you finally successfully reversed-engineered one of those machines after a painstaking amount of work. It was arduous and tiring, but immensely rewarding. Oh, he had so many ideas and things to do now, but you- you had other plans.

“So, now that we’ve got it under our control, I think we should program it to have some new tricks.” Zandik had paused at your words, as for once that was a good idea. He wondered what the limit of such a killing machine could possibly be.

“Go on.”

“Alright, imagine this, it’s about to swoop in and land the finishing blow, but instead, a whole bunch of confetti pops out and-”

“No.”

“You can’t even pick up a sword properly. You know nothing about fighting like I do! Just hear me out, it’ll be a great distraction because they’d never be expecting that, and boom, that’s where the real attack comes in.”

“No.” (Later on, he found out that you’d programmed the thing to have a single flower shoot out, just for him. He swiftly removed it after you were done laughing.)

Or when you had begged and pleaded with him to let you teach him how to cook, just once. It was no secret you were always the one on cooking duty during the Akademiya, for he had a severe lack of skill for it. Furthermore, Zandik had no interest in it, not having the time or patience for something just meant as sustenance. You, however, were insistent on at least teaching him the basics, for it was no way for a student to live (according to you.)

The slicing and dicing went well enough, but the moment you turned your back for a few moments, he had somehow set the smoke detector off, and the Akademiya’s dorm director gave you two a good scolding. You learned your lesson after this particular incident, but from your giggles, he knew you didn’t feel an ounce of regret.

Your antics were truly something he wouldn’t get used to. And now, over four hundred years later, your teasing nature had remained the same, only that it became more verbal as you didn’t have the strength to pull off your elaborate plans anymore.

Which is why lately you had been clinging to him with pleading eyes and a jutted lip, vehemently asking for a pet despite his numerous rejections, going so far as to try and recruit other segments (who, unfortunately for you, did not join your cause.)

“Please honey, my darling, my beloved, my-”

“My answer is not going to change, [Name]. I will not tolerate anything running around and causing a mess.”

“Aww, but come on. I know you love cats. I know you secretly pet them when no one’s looking. I know that-”

“That’s enough from you. Now, will you sit or should I strap you down instead?”

That line of conversation persisted for a while until you mostly gave up, only throwing the idea in from time to time with a hmph. But now, he was uncharacteristically wondering if there could be a solution to this problem.

Lately, you had been confined to your bed and room, too physically weak to move around much. He and the segments had done their best, as they always do, to take care of you, but one did not need to be a genius to know that you were feeling down. Not only because of the aches your body gave you, but also because you were lonely for most of the day, seeing as his other selves were usually too busy to spend an adequate amount of time with you. Once again, despite his lack of care for the emotions and feelings of others, he could see straight through your feigned expressions of nonchalance.

Dottore hated it when you pretended around him.

He could raise the topic but it would probably make matters worse. Instead, it was much more logical to work toward a solution for the issue - the solution being a companion to keep a smile on your face, and your mind at ease. Now, an actual pet probably would be a hassle to maintain in the lab, knowing the kind of activities that were… well, unsafe to say the least, so he put that possible solution to the side for now.

Initially, he sought to create something mechanical, having seen the mechanical animals from Fontaine. Of course, his creation would be far superior, and it would be quite helpful with your condition and all. But upon further thinking, knowing your tastes… you’d probably prefer something softer, considering how much you liked to cuddle him and your plushies.

It was a conundrum the scholar found himself in, making his darling lover happy was not something that could be so easily scientifically concocted like the rest of the conclusions he reached. It required much more than simply following the lines of reason. Perhaps that’s why Dottore often struggled with it.

Yet he did not have the luxury of time to continue pondering, for he did not want to leave you by yourself for much longer. And so he continued to sit at his desk, his hands automatically filling out paperwork while his mind was focused elsewhere, still thinking about what he could possibly gift you. Something warm and cuddly with the ability to communicate with you to some extent…

That was when he remembered something he created long, long ago.

The memories of that creation came back to him rather quickly once he remembered. Dottore remembered every experiment he’d done, but some were just not very special or successful and lingered very little in his mind. This was one of those unnoteworthy results. It was no secret that he was known to… play around with the concept of life, ignoring the rules that guarded it so strictly… and it was this idea that led to the birth of a creature, one that certainly did not belong to this world.

It was a monstrous, furry black thing that hid its true self with some kind of suit, its lone eye bright and red. It hadn’t been the first time his experiments led him to the unknown, but this… was just something he didn’t care about at all. After a few tests on the creature, he lost interest rather quickly. It was the farthest thing away from the life Dottore wanted to toy with. In fact, he had planned to dispose of the thing, but the creature seemed to understand his words more than he anticipated. It quickly scurried away, creating chaos and knocking down almost everything it could, skillfully making its escape.

Dottore had contemplated searching for his odd creation but decided that it wasn’t worth the time or energy. Judging from the distaste it held for him, it probably wouldn’t come around anyway. So, it could exist in the far depths of the lab for all he cared. It wasn’t like this was the first time he threw things into the back and forgot about them. Now, he was rather pleased that he didn’t get rid of his experiment. He had known you for long enough that he was sure you’d find such a thing cute, for some reason. It checked the fluffy and easily holdable boxes too. His only question was whether it could be alive after all these years… well, it was certainly worth a shot, seeing as his solutions were limited.

The answer to Dottore’s question was a yes. It had unfortunately taken much longer than he’d liked to search the dusty rooms (although admittedly, he had gotten a bit distracted with reviewing the old things he dumped) but at long last, he had found the round creature peacefully dozing without a care in… some kind of bed it had crafted with a bunch of papers and black fur. It looked perfectly content… in all honesty, Dottore was a bit interested in what it had been up to all this time. Maybe it held more scientific value than he thought…

Regardless, in one swift motion, Dottore grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck and it immediately awoke, attempting to scramble away. Once its single eye laid on the man who so rudely interrupted its sleep, it blinked, before multiplying its strength to escape, even trying to scratch him, but to no avail. The Harbinger’s grip was far too strong, of course. Meanwhile, Dottore had already lost a bit of patience from the creature’s incessant movements.

“Stop that,” he demanded sharply, and the critter instantly went still as its eye continued to stare at him completely widened. Dottore smiled, which felt rather eerie and frightening to the oversized creature.

“What, did you think I came all the way here to finish the job? Oh no, if I wanted to, I would have done so already a long time ago. Instead, I have another use for you. Something that will benefit both of us. I’m sure you’ll agree,” he hummed as he turned to leave the room. But as he took a single step, he found himself stepping on something soft. Curiously lifting his foot, he looked down to see a small, black, round ball of fluff staring at him with a red eye identical to the creature he held in his hand. And then another came into view.

… And another. Soon at least over a dozen had popped out of the shadows, all watching at him with anticipating eyes. He had forgotten these balls of black fur were also a byproduct of creating the creature. Now quite a few had surrounded his feet and were hopping up and down, attempting to climb his pants, which he quickly shook off with a scowl. Well, it looked like these things were going to follow him regardless of what he said…

“If you all are going to follow me, be prepared to make yourself useful,” he sighed in exasperation before finally leaving, stepping on a few more in the process. (The usefulness in question, was making sure you’d be left with a smile.) Based on the odd squeaking noises the smaller creatures made, they seemed to be on board with the idea.

—

When your husband suddenly presented you with a gift contained in a rather large box, you were a bit surprised. Not because you were receiving a gift, but because of the size of it. Normally, he would give you small trinkets and such, things he’d thought you’d like (that had no real purpose to him, retrieved solely for you. Yes, he was very cute unintentionally. You had a little shelf for his stuff.) But you had no clue what he could have possibly gotten for you that warranted the need for such a big container…

You had long discarded your book in favor of new entertainment (you were reading the same sentences over and over anyway), your hands gliding over the rough material. Dottore was looking at you expectantly, having barely said anything besides shoving the thing on your bed, with a simple “for you.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, your chest getting a bit lighter from the previously stuffy atmosphere dissipating.

“Are you going to explain yourself or leave me guessing as to what I’ve done to receive such a thing?”

“You have been lonely and tired, and I seek to alleviate your pain. Yet there are certain things I cannot always do, which is why I found a solution,” he stated simply, pushing the box closer to you as if it was no big deal. Your eyes widened as your jaw hung, speechless, before you sent a small, teasing smile to your husband.

“I… well, who knew you could be such a considerate man? Keep that up and you’ll make me blush.” You couldn’t help but heat up a bit from his concern, although he didn’t say it outright. And you didn’t really have it in you to deny his words too, he was right after all, you have been lonely and tired from being cooped up in your room all day.

“Still, I want a hint! Ah, it’s too heavy for me to even lift up…” You couldn’t guess what could be in here. “Could it be the latest new novels from Inazuma?”

“No, but those are on the way. It’s something more-” At that moment, the box slightly shifted and you blinked in surprise.

“Oh, oh! Are these new models of Beta’s miniature Ruin Machines? Did he finally make the Ruin Sentinels series?” In truth, initially, the segment wasn’t interested in creating such pointless machines, but after you oh so innocently challenged him to make them movable and fit in the palm of your hand, he took the bait and presented them to you smugly. Needless to say, you very much liked your little collection of action figures, and you were hoping he had finally made ones that could fly.

“No, it’s-” Once again, he was interrupted by even more dramatic shuffling, thumping echoing loudly from inside the box which made you scoot back a bit.

“Dottore, you sure whatever’s in here isn’t going to attack me…?” Your voice was more lighthearted than worried, but now you were squinting at him a bit suspiciously. Dottore’s expression remained unaffected, but inside he was the slightest bit annoyed. He had told those damn things not to move around. Thankfully, a sharp slap to the cover of the box caused the movements to cease, and he only smiled at you once again.

“As I was saying, it’s something you have been asking about for a long time.” He watched as your face turned thoughtful, fingers drumming when suddenly it became very obvious as to what it was.

“Is it… is it what I think it is?” He found your expression rather amusing as he witnessed your eyes becoming sparkly with joy.

“Go ahead,” Dottore motioned and you wasted no time pulling the cover off the box, your eyes meeting a furry, blue creature whose lone eye gazed up at you curiously. You blinked at it, and it blinked back at you, but you had no time to say anything before some other unknown creatures began pouring out the box and spilling onto your bed, some crawling on your lap. This was certainly not the average pet you had expected… but you were not complaining. These things were the cutest - not to mention the little strand of hair on the top.

“Dottore,” you giggled at the fluff tickling your skin, “what exactly are these- oh!” Your words were interrupted when the larger creature suddenly jumped out of the box and launched itself into you, pawing your chest. You reciprocated the attention in delight, giving it numerous head pats and taking a closer look at it. Most of its soft fur seemed to be blue, although its head was black, and its beak was harder than the rest of its body. Regardless, it was completely adorable, and it seemed to like you very much.

“It is something I created in my lab during one of my experiments. I figured it would be something you’d enjoy.” You lit up, and the scholar couldn’t help but appreciate how you seemed to glow.

“You made these little guys for me? Oh, I always knew you could be such a romantic! I have my husband, my son, and now a cute pet. Isn’t it nice to see our family grow, Zandik?” He remained silent at your hastily made conclusion, deciding that the little white lie wouldn’t hurt, especially not when you looked this happy. After all, he imagined your response to him keeping this creature in the backrooms of his laboratory for ages wouldn’t be very well received, considering how attached you were to it already. Thankfully, you didn’t notice the glare the creature sent him either.

“Do they have names yet?” Dottore thought back to the string of numbers and letters attached to this experiment and opted not to disclose that, shaking his head. You hummed, trying to think of what name to bestow upon your new pets until you quickly came up with something good.

“Foxttore,” you stated firmly.

“Foxttore?” He repeated a few seconds after you, rather unimpressed.

“Yes! Because he looks like a fox, and he also kind of looks like you!” You playfully squished the creature’s cheeks.

“I bear no resemblance to that creature,” he frowned, immediately refuting your statement.

“Don’t look like that,” you teased. “It’s a compliment. You’re both cuties that are the same shade of blue,” you leaned in to kiss him gently, a simple way to silence him despite his vexation. “Now as for these little ones…” you thought once more as the black puff balls clung to your arm, Dottorelings… no, that’s too long… how about pufflings? Yes, that will do nicely!” Seemingly understanding your words, the pufflings began jumping up and down in glee. You then moved closer to the man and enveloped him in a hug.

“Thank you for this, Zandik. I am very happy,” you whispered quietly as you snuggled into his neck. It was the truth - you really were happy to have some company constantly around. Your husband returned the hug and you loved how his strong arms felt around you.

“Of course. But if they happen to cause you any… trouble,” he sent a look to the thing now called “Foxttore”, “be sure to tell me.”

“Aww, don’t say that. Foxttore is a good boy! Right?” You smiled brightly at your new pet, who was kneading the blanket, watching the two of you. The contrast between its creator’s less-than-pleasant face and your wide grin was stark and rather easy to choose from. It then hopped up and practically wedged itself in between the two of you, looking up to you with a pleading eye, desperate for attention. You squealed with delight and pressed the creature to your cheek, nuzzling against it.

When Dottore noticed the cheeky look his creation sent him, he wondered if this was actually a good idea.

—

Foxttore and the pufflings were the best and cutest companions you could ever ask for.

The pufflings were always scattered about your room, resting in different locations. You honestly had no clue how many there were, nor could you tell them apart, but you swore they squeezed through the bottom of your door somehow because sometimes they’d return with random items. They seemed pretty starved for attention… they even liked it when you squished them like a stress ball.

Foxttore was equally as cuddly, but also rather intelligent. He would fetch you items so you didn’t need to get up, and he could even turn a doorknob… you were fascinated. One of your favorite things to do was give him a note for him to deliver to a segment, and he would actually deliver it. (Said note usually contained you begging a segment to visit you, otherwise you’d die without their attention.)

After a lot of cuddling and rubbing, you found out that Foxttore was just a severely oversized puffling with four legs instead. That blue fur of his wasn’t even his, just a suit he wore. It was quite funny to see him without it on. It seemed rather shy without its fox fur, but with enough kisses, hugs, and reassurance, it had no problem lounging around without it.

You read them stories, showed them everything your room had to offer, placed some of Beta’s cute pink bows on them, bathed with them - you were starting to look forward to the day much more now that you could wake up to them.

—

While Dottore knew that you would get attached to the little monstrosities he gifted you, perhaps he didn’t anticipate it to reach this degree. Even after you had gotten well enough to stroll around the lab again, the blasted things were attached to your hip the whole time.

Visiting the segments? They would come up to you, caressing and teasing you with their deliciously infuriating small touches and kisses, and then all of a sudden a small crash would sound throughout the room, the culprit being Foxttore.

Visiting him? He’d have you on his lap, about to pin you to his desk, when he noticed the pufflings watching him from all corners of the room. It was maddening trying to chase them away, but then you’d get pouty about how the creatures didn’t like to be alone. (The only segment that the creature seemed to like was Zandy, although it had taken a while - a bit of scolding from you, and many offerings of food from the child to Foxttore had done the trick.)

As much as Dottore was glad your mood had improved greatly, admittedly, it would please him if he could just chuck his creations out into the Snezhnayan snow, just to finally get some alone time with you. But you loved them too much, so he resolved to resort to other means… eventually.

Over time, your pets gradually began to not hog your attention the whole time, but you were very insistent on helping Dottore and them become friends. It wasn’t very easy, however, they seemed to have some tension between them. You weren’t really sure why, but you still loved having them together.

—

“Dottore! Oh Dottore, you have to watch this,” you puffed out your chest proudly as Foxttore trotted behind you. Your husband looked at you questioningly before you spread your arms out, directing them toward the creature.

“I taught Foxttore tricks! Watch this! Foxttore, sit!” Your pet obediently sat down, his tail wagging (although you had no clue how that worked since it was just a suit…)

“Foxttore, spin around!”

“Foxttore, roll over!”

“Now high-five me!” Dottore watched in amusement as the blue creature followed your commands with ease. Perhaps it really was smarter than he thought. Regardless, all he cared about was that you were occupied with something, rather than being by yourself.

“Okay, now fetch Dottore’s secret stash of sweets!” At that, Foxttore began making its way over to one of the numerous bookshelves in Dottore’s office before the Harbinger quickly realized what you said, and stopped the creature in its tracks.

“I knew there were too many pieces missing,” he stared at you humorlessly, while you sweated nervously.

“W-What? You said I was allowed to take some!”

“I said you, not this… thing,” the man then picked up Foxttore by its strands of blue hair, which the creature fought at, and dropped it in your arms like it was some pest. “I’m moving it.”

“Please don’t! I won’t do it again!”

—

The continued pampering of Foxttore had, unfortunately for your lovers, become a norm to see around the lab. He was a spoiled lil shit, in other words, who could do no wrong in your eyes… which is why every new thing you did had little to no effect on them anymore besides an eye twitch of annoyance and a promise to bully the creature later. The current situation was one such time. Dottore had come into your room only to see many abnormally small clothes scattered on your bed, with you in the center of it all.

“Oh Dottie, you’re just in time! Look at what I got!” You then held up Foxttore in all his glory, his new hoodie substantially thinner with different patterns, a great big smile on your face.

… It was only you who had the privilege of using his time like this.

“Now before you ask how I got these, I had them custom-made! See, I wanted to sew the clothes myself, but my hands have been too shaky lately and then you’d get all grumpy if I hurt myself with the needle, so I just asked Columbina to find someone for me and she did! She’s a great friend!” You continued to ramble on.

“See, the poor thing gets too hot sometimes, especially when he starts running on our walks,” you said sadly, while he wondered how exactly you walked this monstrosity, “that’s why I got him different clothes! And they’re stylish too! Look, he’s even got pajamas! Don’t you think it’s cute?” You looked at him, your eyes sparkling and glittering with light that dazzled him.

In all honesty, Dottore didn’t really care about the little abomination of a creature. In fact, he probably leaned more into disdain for it. But what he did care about was you, and what made you happy, what put a smile on your face since he hated for it to be missing.

“I believe your definition of cute is rather unusual.”

“Huh? How could you not think Foxttore is the cutest thing ever? Oh… I see your game. You think I’m the cutest thing ever, don’t you?” You boldly teased him which didn’t phase him, only making a confident smirk grow on his face.

“I suppose that would be accurate, yes. Nothing else comes to mind that could be compared to your beauty,” he said smoothly, plucking the creature from your hands and dropping it elsewhere, which it clearly disliked, but he was more interested in your reaction. Your mouth slightly ajar, heat creeping up your face with a flustered expression, breathing speeding up a bit.

“A-As long as you’re aware,” you mumbled shyly, turning your face away, although your slight smile was apparent.

Needless to say, Zandik was always aware of his beloved.

—

You always loved it when you were able to leave the lab. Sometimes they were frequent outings, sometimes they were very rare. It all depended on how well you had been feeling lately. Today, you had finally been able to go out for a short walk with Dottore after so long. The cold air and snow had you shivering, but feeling the wind hit your cheeks was worth it. (And being able to cling to your husband was a definite plus in your books.) But you were still happy to come back home.

… Especially when you were greeted by your little friend.

As soon as you walked through the door, you noticed that Foxttore was impatiently waiting by the entrance. The moment he saw you, he sped toward you at light speed and pawed at your legs for pets, hopping up and down. You couldn’t help but laugh as you bent down to give him some attention which he happily reciprocated, but then he pulled away and started wildly running around the two of you.

“Aww, Foxttore is having zoomies!”

“… Pardon?”

“He’s having zoomies!” You smiled at your husband before crouching down, and your pet immediately ran into your arms and settled himself there as you picked him up. “Aww, you must have missed us so much, didn’t you?” You cooed as you rubbed his tummy, while Dottore merely stared at you blankly. The man then noticed the creature’s eye had narrowed into a half circle directed toward him as if to mock him.

If there was a point system between the two of them as to who was able to steal your attention more, Dottore would sorely be losing.

—

It was one of the few nights where you were able to spend a night like most couples do at the end of the day - resting in the same bed with your lover. You weren’t even sure how you managed to do it this time. You thought it was probably due to your persistence but also that he was genuinely tired. (Well, he had been genuinely tired for ages now, but you were able to get him on a weak day, perhaps.)

You had always loved it when Dottore held you, even if it was slack or just one arm, you always felt safe. Protected. Warm. Happy. The feelings only amplified when both his arms caged you into his chest, which was the perfect place for you to snuggle. (Still, he’d never admit to being the little spoon from when he was a student.)

“Hey, Zandik?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done lately, by the way.”

“Of course,” his answer was as simple as could be. He stroked your hair languidly, always one to brush off your thank yous.

“I mean it,” you wiggled out of his grip to look him in the eye, lip jutting out slightly.

“I already know you do. You do not need to keep saying it every time.” You pouted at his response. How else were you supposed to show your appreciation? You then grabbed his arm, which was surprisingly pliable, and placed his hand over your heart.

“Then let me know if you need anything from me. Anything at all. I have to pay you back eventually, you know.” Dottore looked as if he was enjoying himself.

“What do you propose? I’ll listen to your suggestions.”

“Well… I have kisses and cuddles as my expertise. I can cook and bake for you sometimes too… oh, but I can also try doing some of your paperwork! …What? You’re not impressed? I guess I can try to do some more… unsavory tasks as well. The Fatui agents listen to what I have to say quite easily,” you continued to chatter as Dottore’s fingers made their way from your cheek to your neck and then your collarbone, making you stammer at the sensation. “Hey, you’re not even taking me seriously, are you?” Your husband only chuckled at your furrowed eyebrows and grumbling.

If anything, he would want you to repay him by letting him see the faces you’ll make once you’re finally free of your illness.

“Anyway…” you squeezed his hand with yours that still rested on your chest, “You probably know this already, with that ever-calculating mind of yours, but you hold my heart in your hands. I’ll always be here with you.” It was a funny thing to think about, giving your heart to someone like him, in both a physical and intangible sense. Trusting him with your frail body, trusting him with your love, knowing he could squeeze it to a pulp if he wanted to. But he wouldn’t.

He would treat your heart with the utmost care and precaution, not daring to risk even the slightest harm to it.

Dottore stared at you for a few moments while you held his gaze, resolute on making your point known. Wordlessly, he began to move closer to your soft lips, intent on making his response to your statement physical. He was so close, his nose brushing against yours, and your warm breath on his. He was about to finally satiate his desire when-

Something was scratching at the door. Loudly, too. The sudden noise made you jump back and turn your gaze to the door. The Harbinger had a bad feeling about this.

“Did you hear that?”

“No.”

“You’re just lying now!” With a huff, you pushed the blankets off, much to his displeasure, and made your way to the door, opening it. There was Foxttore, making strange noises that he tried his best to mask as cries.

The bliss Dottore felt a few moments ago had turned to immense annoyance immediately.

“Oh, you poor baby! Did you have a nightmare or something?” You exclaimed before quickly scooping Foxttore into your arms and bringing him onto the bed. “It’s okay, you’re with us now…” You softly murmured, stroking it gently as you let it settle on your chest. Where Dottore’s hands should be right now, cupping your soft skin instead of that damned creature.

Dottore swore he was going to throw that thing out once you were asleep.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months ago

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Reverse engineers bust sleazy gig work platform

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/23/hack-the-class-war/#robo-boss

A COMPUTER CAN NEVER BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE

THEREFORE A COMPUTER MUST NEVER MAKE A MANAGEMENT DECISION

Supposedly, these lines were included in a 1979 internal presentation at IBM; screenshots of them routinely go viral:

https://twitter.com/SwiftOnSecurity/status/1385565737167724545?lang=en

The reason for their newfound popularity is obvious: the rise and rise of algorithmic management tools, in which your boss is an app. That IBM slide is right: turning an app into your boss allows your actual boss to create an "accountability sink" in which there is no obvious way to blame a human or even a company for your maltreatment:

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

App-based management-by-bossware treats the bug identified by the unknown author of that IBM slide into a feature. When an app is your boss, it can force you to scab:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

Or it can steal your wages:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But tech giveth and tech taketh away. Digital technology is infinitely flexible: the program that spies on you can be defeated by another program that defeats spying. Every time your algorithmic boss hacks you, you can hack your boss back:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/02/not-what-it-does/#who-it-does-it-to

Technologists and labor organizers need one another. Even the most precarious and abused workers can team up with hackers to disenshittify their robo-bosses:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/08/tuyul-apps/#gojek

For every abuse technology brings to the workplace, there is a liberating use of technology that workers unleash by seizing the means of computation:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/13/solidarity-forever/#tech-unions

One tech-savvy group on the cutting edge of dismantling the Torment Nexus is Algorithms Exposed, a tiny, scrappy group of EU hacker/academics who recruit volunteers to reverse engineer and modify the algorithms that rule our lives as workers and as customers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

Algorithms Exposed have an admirable supply of seemingly boundless energy. Every time I check in with them, I learn that they've spun out yet another special-purpose subgroup. Today, I learned about Reversing Works, a hacking team that reverse engineers gig work apps, revealing corporate wrongdoing that leads to multimillion euro fines for especially sleazy companies.

One such company is Foodinho, an Italian subsidiary of the Spanish food delivery company Glovo. Foodinho/Glovo has been in the crosshairs of Italian labor enforcers since before the pandemic, racking up millions in fines – first for failing to file the proper privacy paperwork disclosing the nature of the data processing in the app that Foodinho riders use to book jobs. Then, after the Italian data commission investigated Foodinho, the company attracted new, much larger fines for its out-of-control surveillance conduct.

As all of this was underway, Reversing Works was conducting its own research into Glovo/Foodinho's app, running it on a simulated Android handset inside a PC so they could peer into app's data collection and processing. They discovered a nightmarish world of pervasive, illegal worker surveillance, and published their findings a year ago in November, 2023:

https://www.etui.org/sites/default/files/2023-10/Exercising%20workers%20rights%20in%20algorithmic%20management%20systems_Lessons%20learned%20from%20the%20Glovo-Foodinho%20digital%20labour%20platform%20case_2023.pdf

That report reveals all kinds of extremely illegal behavior. Glovo/Foodinho makes its riders' data accessible across national borders, so Glovo managers outside of Italy can access fine-grained surveillance information and sensitive personal information – a major data protection no-no.

Worse, Glovo's app embeds trackers from a huge number of other tech platforms (for chat, analytics, and more), making it impossible for the company to account for all the ways that its riders' data is collected – again, a requirement under Italian and EU data protection law.

All this data collection continues even when riders have clocked out for the day – its as though your boss followed you home after quitting time and spied on you.

The research also revealed evidence of a secretive worker scoring system that ranked workers based on undisclosed criteria and reserved the best jobs for workers with high scores. This kind of thing is pervasive in algorithmic management, from gig work to Youtube and Tiktok, where performers' videos are routinely suppressed because they crossed some undisclosed line. When an app is your boss, your every paycheck is docked because you violated a policy you're not allowed to know about, because if you knew why your boss was giving you shitty jobs, or refusing to show the video you spent thousands of dollars making to the subscribers who asked to see it, then maybe you could figure out how to keep your boss from detecting your rulebreaking next time.

All this data-collection and processing is bad enough, but what makes it all a thousand times worse is Glovo's data retention policy – they're storing this data on their workers for four years after the worker leaves their employ. That means that mountains of sensitive, potentially ruinous data on gig workers is just lying around, waiting to be stolen by the next hacker that breaks into the company's servers.

Reversing Works's report made quite a splash. A year after its publication, the Italian data protection agency fined Glovo another 5 million euros and ordered them to cut this shit out:

https://reversing.works/posts/2024/11/press-release-reversing.works-investigation-exposes-glovos-data-privacy-violations-marking-a-milestone-for-worker-rights-and-technology-accountability/

As the report points out, Italy is extremely well set up to defend workers' rights from this kind of bossware abuse. Not only do Italian enforcers have all the privacy tools created by the GDPR, the EU's flagship privacy regulation – they also have the benefit of Italy's 1970 Workers' Statute. The Workers Statute is a visionary piece of legislation that protects workers from automated management practices. Combined with later privacy regulation, it gave Italy's data regulators sweeping powers to defend Italian workers, like Glovo's riders.

Italy is also a leader in recognizing gig workers as de facto employees, despite the tissue-thin pretense that adding an app to your employment means that you aren't entitled to any labor protections. In the case of Glovo, the fine-grained surveillance and reputation scoring were deemed proof that Glovo was employer to its riders.

Reversing Works' report is a fascinating read, especially the sections detailing how the researchers recruited a Glovo rider who allowed them to log in to Glovo's platform on their account.

As Reversing Works points out, this bottom-up approach – where apps are subjected to technical analysis – has real potential for labor organizations seeking to protect workers. Their report established multiple grounds on which a union could seek to hold an abusive employer to account.

But this bottom-up approach also holds out the potential for developing direct-action tools that let workers flex their power, by modifying apps, or coordinating their actions to wring concessions out of their bosses.

After all, the whole reason for the gig economy is to slash wage-bills, by transforming workers into contractors, and by eliminating managers in favor of algorithms. This leaves companies extremely vulnerable, because when workers come together to exercise power, their employer can't rely on middle managers to pressure workers, deal with irate customers, or step in to fill the gap themselves:

https://projects.itforchange.net/state-of-big-tech/changing-dynamics-of-labor-and-capital/

Only by seizing the means of computation, workers and organized labor can turn the tables on bossware – both by directly altering the conditions of their employment, and by producing the evidence and tools that regulators can use to force employers to make those alterations permanent.

Image: EFF (modified) https://www.eff.org/files/issues/eu-flag-11_1.png

CC BY 3.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us/

#pluralistic #etui #glovo #foodinho #alogrithms exposed #reverse engineering #platform work directive #eu #data protection #algorithmic management #gdpr #privacy #labor #union busting #tracking exposed #reversing works #adversarial interoperability #comcom #bossware

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papoochu · 4 days ago

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Next in the council series is "The Machine", Tomoe Tsurugi! Though for ArtFight, she'll go undercover as Tachibana Nagi!

Now that I have 3 council members up, I think I'll make a pinned masterpost on my blog if you want to see the others! 3 down, 9 more to go!

Background

Tachibana = noble samurai clan name symbolizing honor and legacy, deeply tied to Japan’s warrior history

Nagi = meaning “to mow down” or “to sweep away”; often used to describe the motion of a naginata, a sword, or wind in battle

Born 1967 in Tokyo to a strict traditional family, proud of their samurai lineage

Learned various martial arts and weaponry, but excelled in swordsmanship

Raised on stories of Onna-Musha, Tomoe Gozen, and the codes of bushidō

On her mother’s side, descended from survivors of the Nagasaki atomic bombing (1945)

Childhood During Japan’s Economic Miracle:

Raised amid Japan’s postwar boom, a time of gleaming technology and rising prosperity

While her father, a bureaucrat in the Ministry of International Trade and Industry, embraced modernization, her household remained steeped in samurai values: discipline, tradition, duty

Unbeknownst to them, Nagi had inherited genetic mutations from her hibakusha grandparents, survivors of Nagasaki’s blast

Frequently ill as a child (chronic fatigue, joint pain, unusual sensitivities), she was in and out of hospitals

Medical professionals were evasive, classmates cruel; whispers of “tainted blood” followed her

Early medical trauma and social alienation planted a seed of hatred for human fragility and societal hypocrisy

Early Signs of Blindness (Age 13):

Began experiencing night blindness, trouble reading, and disorientation in dim light

Eventually diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa: a progressive, degenerative eye condition

Her doctors quietly suggested the condition may be linked to her family’s radiation exposure, a lingering curse of Nagasaki

For Nagi, the diagnosis became not just a personal tragedy, but proof that the past can reach forward and rot the present

University Years:

While studying engineering and mathematics at the University of Tokyo, her sight deteriorated rapidly

Already known for her genius and prowess, she was approached by the council, who provided her with the resources to adapt her skills for her failing sight

By 24, she was legally blind

This coincided with the peak of Japan’s Bubble Economy: wealth rising, but so was corruption and moral decay (Recruit Scandal)

Rejected from elite job programs despite top academic performance

Her fury crystallized: flesh is weakness, society is hypocritical, and machines do not discriminate

She vowed to build a future where the flawed human body and corrupt human systems would be rendered obsolete

Founding Tachibana Tech (Age 24–28):

As Japan entered the Lost Decade, Nagi founded Tachibana Tech: a cybernetics and AI firm based on one principle: refining the human form through technology

She personally underwent neural interface surgeries, experimenting on herself to convert her remaining senses into data streams

Her vision did not return, but she received augmented perception - a new kind of sight born of code and signal

No longer “blind,” she became The Machine - detached, calculating, and unbound by human limitations

1995 – Kobe Earthquake & Technological Control:

Great Hanshin Earthquake devastated Kobe, exposed fatal weaknesses in Japan’s infrastructure and disaster readiness

Nagi quietly offered her AI to the state for predictive modeling and emergency logistics, then used the data to expand her surveillance reach

The state was incompetent. The people were panicked. Only machines-maintained order

Solidified her belief: Japan doesn’t need democracy - it needs an operating system

Rise of Tachibana Industries:

With Japan’s population aging and its political system paralyzed, Nagi’s company became indispensable - providing predictive governance tools, infrastructure AI, and covert intelligence services

Privately, she orchestrated digital blackmail campaigns, economic disruptions, and political reshuffling to consolidate influence

2011 – Fukushima Nuclear Disaster:

The Fukushima meltdown reopened national trauma - once again, revealing humanity’s hubris and helplessness

To Nagi, it was the final confirmation:

Nagasaki made her blind

Kobe made her a player

Fukushima made her sovereign

Emotion, tradition, empathy - these were relics

Only through data, order, and engineered governance could civilization survive itself

Present Day (Age 49):

Leads a corporate-state hybrid that quietly shapes policy, surveillance, and commerce across East Asia and beyond

Believes that Japan must return to its warrior roots - but not through swords or blood, through discipline, hierarchy, and machine logic

Her mission: eradicate human fragility; a society where order is no longer maintained by the fallible human hand, but by precision systems

Design Notes/Character Study

Character Inspo for main outfit:

Garuda (Warframe), Shen (Kung Fu Panda)

Note: Garuda is based on Indian mythology, while Shen is based on Chinese - use other references for cultural nuance, as this character is Japanese

Modernized kimono

Red, black, white

Tech inspo:

Neon Genesis Evangelion, PCB, Signalis

Parallels to Gendo Ikari

Evangelion Unit-01

Cultural/historical references

Mu = nothingness

Oni

Onna-bugeisha and Tomoe Gozen

Nagasaki

Seismic patterns on shirts

Rising sun/chrysanthemum seal on obi = authoritarianism/conquest

Wields a naginata

Watched videos of national women's competitions @ 0.25 speed T-T

Has devoted her life to the council

Retinitis pigmentosa does not usually have any physical symptoms

Her eyes are pale red/pink from the tech implants

Glowing for artistic flair

Glasses are blackout glasses (opaque)

Company emblem is a sword

Believes her mother gave her weakness

President Snow: No objections to violence; but always with reason

#miraculous ladybug #mlb #fanart #original character #oc #council #tomoe tsurugi #character design #tachibana nagi #the machine

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elladreams · 10 months ago

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The Perfect Setup (Zandvoort) // LN4

summary: Zandvoort '24. A young engineering prodigy, recruited by McLaren to solve complex F1 challenges, grapples with media scrutiny and an undeniable chemistry with driver Lando Norris. As tensions rise during a crucial race, they must balance professional duty with their growing personal connection.

warnings: she/her reader, smut (18+), unprotected (shower 😳) sex, size kink.

words: 6.9K

The roar of engines filled the air, a symphony of power and precision that reverberated through the paddock. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline mixed with the salty breeze from the nearby coast, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that signaled another race was about to begin. The McLaren garage was a hive of activity—mechanics making last-minute adjustments, engineers poring over data, and drivers mentally preparing for the challenge ahead. Amidst the controlled chaos, you stood, a pillar of calm in a world of speed.

You have always stood out, a prodigy in a field where experience often outweighed talent. But here you were, at the heart of one of the most prestigious teams in Formula 1, your hands and mind guiding the finely-tuned machinery that could make or break a race. At just twenty-two, you were already a respected figure in the paddock, known for your brilliance in engineering and your unyielding dedication to the sport.

Your family had sacrificed so much to help you reach your potential. You were always miles ahead of the other kids. While they were playing with dolls or video games, you were more interested in how those things worked. At six years old, you were already taking apart remote control cars, not to play with them, but to understand the intricate systems that made them move. By the time you were ten, you were building small engines from scratch, fascinated by the power and precision of mechanical systems.

Your parents quickly realized they had a prodigy on their hands. They encouraged your curiosity, enrolling you in expensive science and engineering programs meant for kids much older than you. You thrived in these environments, always eager to learn more, to push the boundaries of what you could create. By the time you were a teenager, you had already won several national engineering competitions, earning a reputation as a young genius in the world of mechanics.

When you first discovered Formula 1, everything changed. The speed, the technology, the sheer complexity of the cars—it captivated you like nothing else. You devoured everything you could find about F1 engineering, learning about aerodynamics, power units, and the delicate balance between speed and control. While other teenage girls were dreaming of prom dresses and much older boyfriends , you were dreaming of being in the garage, fine-tuning the machines that drove the world of motorsport.

Your parents knew that pursuing a career in F1 was a long shot, especially for a young woman, but they supported you every step of the way. They worked multiple jobs and sacrificed their own dreams so that you could chase yours.

Thankfully, your talent didn’t go unnoticed. By the time you were 16, you had caught the attention of several top engineers in the F1 world, earning an internship with Mercedes. You quickly made a name for yourself as a technical genius, capable of understanding and improving complex systems that seasoned engineers struggled with. The paddock buzzed with stories of the young girl who was instrumental in Mercedes' dominance.

With your newfound fame came an onslaught of media attention. Reporters from major news outlets were relentless, hounding you for interviews and prying into every aspect of your life. They asked invasive questions about your personal relationships, sought your opinions on the sport's latest controversies, and even pressed you to address misogynistic rumors linking you romantically with certain drivers. The spotlight, once a place of professional pride, had become a battlefield where your every word was scrutinized, and your achievements were often overshadowed by baseless gossip.

Zak Brown fought tooth and nail to bring you to McLaren, recognizing that you were the missing piece they needed to conquer the new regulations. When it became clear that the team was struggling to master the latest specifications, he knew they needed someone with your unique blend of technical expertise and innovative thinking. Zak saw in you a mind that could bridge the gap between theory and practice, someone who could not only understand the intricacies of the new rules but also translate them into real-world performance on the track.

But today, on the day of Max Verstappen's home race, there was an unmistakable charge in the air—tensions were higher, the stakes more personal. It wasn’t just another race; it was a proving ground, not only for the car but for you, the team, and especially for the driver who had become both your greatest challenge and your fiercest ally: Lando Norris.

Lando, the young, fiercely talented star of McLaren, had a natural charm that made him a media darling, but it was his relentless drive to win that truly defined him. From the moment you joined the team, your relationship with Lando had been anything but smooth. Your strong wills collided over every detail, every decision. He saw you as a nuisance, someone who constantly questioned his instincts and pushed him beyond his comfort zone. To you, Lando was stubborn, even arrogant at times—a driver who needed to understand that perfection on the track wasn't just about raw talent but about achieving the perfect synergy between man and machine. And today, that’s exactly what you were trying to achieve.

Standing in the garage, you reviewed the data on your tablet for what felt like the hundredth time. You had pulled an all-nighter, fine-tuning an experimental setup that you believed could give Lando the edge he needed on this notoriously challenging circuit. But convincing him to trust your untested approach was another matter.

Lando stormed into the garage, the top part of his race suit hanging low on his hips revealing his fire proofs, his expression a mix of frustration and determination. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, glancing at the setup specs displayed on the screen. “This is what you’ve been working on all night?”

“Yes,” you replied, meeting his gaze without flinching. “This setup could give you the downforce you need through the corners without sacrificing speed on the straights. I’ve run the simulations a dozen times—it works.”

“Simulations?” Lando scoffed, running a hand through his curls in agitation. “Simulations aren’t the same as the real thing. We can’t afford to take risks like this, not here, not today.”

“This isn’t a risk, Lando,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the tension. “This is a calculated decision based on hard data. I wouldn’t be recommending it if I didn’t believe it would make a difference.”

He crossed his arms, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to recognize all too well. “You’re asking me to trust a setup we’ve never used in a race, in front of Max’s home crowd, no less. What if it doesn’t work? What if it costs me the race?”

“And what if it wins you the race?” you countered, stepping closer to him. “You know as well as I do that playing it safe isn’t going to cut it against Verstappen on his home turf. We need every advantage we can get, and this setup is that advantage.”

Lando stared at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. But you didn’t waver. You believed in this setup, and more importantly, you believed in him.

Finally, he relented, nodding slowly. "Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I swear I will never let you live it down."

“It will” you interrupted, a small tired smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ll be right there with you, making sure it does.”

A ghost of a smirk played on his face, his eyes betraying the glimmer of a sparkle. For a moment, the garage was silent, the two of you standing closer than you realized, caught in the intensity of the moment. The intoxicating blend of his dark, amber-scented perfume mingled with the unmistakable and familiar scent of the paddock, created a heady aroma that threatened to cloud your senses entirely.

Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a fraction of a second before flicking back up to your eyes. You could feel your cheeks burning as his gaze caressed you.

Lando cleared his throat, breaking the spell and stepping back.

"Well, let's get this done." he said, his usual light tone returning as he ran a hand through his hair again. "Wouldn't want to keep the adoring crowd waiting." He winked.

You rolled your eyes and smiled, thankful for the change in energy.

You both turned back to the screen to finalize the setup adjustments. As you worked side by side, the air between you felt different—not just charged with the usual tension, but with a deeper, more intimate connection. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped, and you had moved from being teammates to something more.

The race was minutes away, but for the first time, you felt like you were truly part of a team—Lando’s team. And that, more than anything, was what mattered. The moments before the race were a blur of final checks and hurried conversations. You stood by Lando’s car, your heart pounding with adrenaline, not just from the intensity of the race but from something deeper—something you were trying desperately not to acknowledge. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the Zandvoort Circuit, you caught Lando’s eye. He was already in his race suit, helmet in hand, but there was a softness in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you’d both been dancing around for months.

The starting grid was tense with anticipation. Lando had secured pole position in a spectacular qualifying session, and the team was buzzing with excitement. But everyone knew this race wouldn’t be easy—not with Verstappen starting right behind him, eager to impress his home crowd.

The lights went out, and the roar of the engines filled the air as the cars launched off the line. Lando got a good start, but so did Verstappen. As they barreled into the first corner, Verstappen made a daring move, diving down the inside and taking the lead. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sea of orange on its feet as their hometown hero took charge.

“Hold steady,” you whispered under your breath, your eyes glued to the screen. Lando had lost the lead, but the race was far from over.

The next few laps were a blur of precision and strategy. Lando stayed close to Verstappen, not letting him get away, but it was clear that the McLaren’s setup was allowing him to conserve his tires while maintaining pace. The tension was palpable, every corner, every straight a testament to the fine-tuning you and the team had worked so hard to perfect.

As the race approached its midpoint, an opportunity presented itself. Verstappen, pushing hard to maintain his lead, began to show signs of tire degradation. You watched the data closely, your fingers gripping the edge of the console.

“This is it, Lando,” you said over the radio, your voice steady but laced with anticipation. “His tires are gone. You’ve got this.”

Lando didn’t respond, but you knew he’d heard you. His driving became more aggressive, more precise, as he closed the gap to Verstappen. And then, on lap 47, the moment you’d been waiting for arrived. Lando set himself up perfectly coming out of Turn 9, using the slipstream to his advantage. As they approached the hairpin, he made his move, diving down the inside with the confidence of a driver who knew his car—and his own abilities—were more than a match for the challenge.

He retook the lead, and this time, he wasn’t about to let it go.

“Nicely done, Lando!” you cheered into the radio, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. The entire team erupted in applause, but your focus remained on the car, on the driver who had just reminded everyone why he was one of the best.

The final laps were a masterclass in control. Lando maintained his lead, keeping Max at bay and managing his tires to perfection, while also building a substantial gap. As he crossed the finish line, taking the checkered flag, the McLaren garage exploded in celebration.

“You did it, Lando! You won!” The words burst out of you, the relief and joy evident in every syllable.

Lando’s voice crackled over the radio, filled with the same emotion. “We did it. The car came alive.” A flush of pride warmed your cheeks. This was your win, too—your idea, your hard work, your dedication to perfection.

As Lando pulled into the pit lane, the world seemed to slow down. He stepped out of the car, removing his helmet to reveal a smile that lit up his entire face. You had joined the team to celebrate alongside Lando. Before you knew it, he was walking toward you, his eyes locked onto yours. The team was cheering, clapping him on the back, but Lando didn’t stop until he was right in front of you. He reached out, taking your hand in his, the contact sending a jolt through you.

“Thank you.” He said simply, the words full of meaning.

Your smile widened as you squeezed his hand, the rush of adrenaline and pride filling you with a new kind of certainty. In this moment, the only thing that mattered was him, and you. You squeezed his hand, your heart racing not from the adrenaline of the race, but from the intensity of the moment between you. “Thank you for trusting me, Lando.”

There was a brief silence, the noise of the celebration fading into the background as the world narrowed to just the two of you. Then, with a quick glance around as if to check that no one was watching too closely, Lando leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his breath warm against your skin.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he repeated, a whisper that sent your heart into overdrive.

You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through you. “And we’ll do it again.”

The race had been a victory, but this moment—standing with Lando, the connection between you undeniable—felt like something even more precious. It was the start of something new, something that went beyond the garage and the racetrack.

—-

The podium celebration had been nothing short of electrifying. The roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, and the sight of Lando beaming as he hoisted the trophy high above his head was a moment you knew you would never forget. As the McLaren team gathered to celebrate, you found yourself on the podium alongside Lando, representing the team that had worked tirelessly to secure this victory. It was a whirlwind of emotions—pride and undeniable joy.

But as you made your way back to the garage drenched in Ferrari champagne, the adrenaline of the win still pulsing through your veins, you rounded a corner and nearly collided with Chiara, McLaren’s senior PR manager. Her usually composed expression was tense, and you could tell immediately that she had something on her mind.

“Great job out there,” Chiara started, her voice measured but tinged with concern. “The team couldn’t be happier, but we need to talk.” Your stomach sank as a sense of foreboding crept over you. Chiara had been your main point of contact for media communication since joining the team, and you knew that if she was this worried, it must be something serious. You felt a knot form in your stomach. The way she was looking at you told you that this wasn’t just about the race. “What’s on your mind, Chiara?”

She glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot, then pulled you aside into a quieter corner of the garage. “Look, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but we need to be careful about how things appear. The media and fans are already buzzing about you and Lando, especially after that little moment after the finish.”

Your mind flashed back to the celebration, to the kiss on the cheek Lando had given you, the way his hand had lingered on yours just a bit longer than necessary. It had felt private, special, but of course, nothing was truly private in the world of Formula 1, especially not when the cameras were always rolling.

“You know how it is,” Chiara continued, her tone softening slightly. “Fans are passionate, and the media loves a good story. They’ll spin anything to make headlines. I’m not saying you can’t have…whatever it is you have with Lando, but we need to manage the optics. The last thing we want is for this to distract from the team’s success.”

You nodded, understanding her concerns. The last thing you wanted was to give the press ammunition to turn your hard-earned victory into tabloid fodder. But the idea of keeping your newfound feelings for Lando hidden, of pretending there was nothing between you, felt like a bitter pill to swallow.

“I get it, Chiara,” you said finally, meeting her gaze with determination. “I’m not going to let them turn this into a scandal. Lando and I…we’re professionals first. We’ll handle this.”

Chiara smiled, relieved by your response. “I know you will. Just keep in mind that perception is everything in this sport. And right now, you both have the world’s attention.”

With that, Chiara gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before heading off to her next order of business. You stood there, rooted to the spot for a moment, letting her words sink in. The exhilaration of the victory still buzzed through you, but it was now tinged with the sobering reality of the situation. The weight of her advice pressed down on your shoulders, reminding you that nothing in this world came without its complications.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, dislodging tiny droplets of champagne that sprayed out like glittering confetti. The sticky remnants of the podium celebration clung to you, a tangible reminder of the night’s highs. What you needed now was a serious shower—something to wash away not just the champagne, but the lingering tension from your conversation with Chiara.

As you made your way toward the team’s private quarters, the hum of activity in the paddock slowly faded, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Chiara’s words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the reality you both lived in—a world where every glance, every gesture, could be dissected and spun into a narrative you had little control over. The media would indeed be relentless, and the fans, always watching, would be insatiable in their curiosity. But how could you distance yourself from something—or someone—that had become so central to your life, to your happiness? The chemestry you shared with Lando was undeniable, and no amount of PR maneuvering could erase what you felt for him.

As you reached the lockers, you turned on the shower, eagerly anticipating the soothing warmth of the water to ease the tension knotted in your muscles. The promise of relief was a welcome thought after the intensity of the day.

You let out a small sigh, beginning to discard your champagne-soaked clothes. The polo that had clung to your skin now felt heavy, both physically and metaphorically, as you peeled it off and tossed it into the laundry bin. The day’s victories and challenges seemed to weigh on you all at once. The exhilaration of the win, the tension with Lando, the quiet moments where everything between you felt so effortless—they all mingled in your mind, creating a cocktail of emotions that left you feeling both intoxicated and exhausted.

You stood there for a moment, stripped down to your underwear, the cool air of the locker room a welcome contrast to the heat of the day. Lost in thought, you hadn’t even noticed Lando entering until you felt his presence, a subtle shift in the air that made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The realization of how exposed you were hit you all at once—half-naked and vulnerable in more ways than one.

Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but something in the way Lando looked at you made you pause. His eyes, darker now with an intensity that was impossible to ignore, roamed over your body, lingering on the curves and lines revealed by your lack of clothing. The heat that flushed your cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the way his gaze set your skin ablaze. You couldn't meet his gaze fully, not when you were absolutely sure it would burn you from the inside.

He murmured your name, his voice low, vibrating with a tension that matched the fire in his eyes. The way he said it, the way his gaze traced over you, made it feel like a caress. “Look at me.”

There was a challenge in his tone, and you met it head-on, your breath catching as your eyes locked with his. In the fluorescent lighting of the locker room, his features seemed more defined, his jawline sharper, his lips fuller.

There was no mistaking the desire that simmered just beneath the surface, a reflection of the same need that pulsed through your veins. It was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the space between you crackling with a chemistry that had been building for far too long.

Lando took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours, and with each inch he closed, the air around you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation. He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the scent of his skin—champagne and amber with a hint of the adrenaline that still lingered from the race—filling your senses.

The silence stretched between you, and yet, it was as if an entire conversation was taking place, unspoken but understood. Every fiber of your being was attuned to him, the tension between you palpable. "I can practically hear that big brain of yours working overtime." he said, his voice even lower now, almost a rumble. His hand reached out, fingertips brushing lightly against your arm, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake. The touch was gentle, but it was enough to make you shiver, your skin hypersensitive to every point of contact.

The last remnants of your resolve began to crumble, and you could see the same struggle playing out in Lando’s eyes. There was a flicker of hesitation, a silent question hanging in the space between you—whether to cross this line, to take what you both so clearly wanted.

But then he stepped even closer, his hand sliding up your arm to your shoulder, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone. The touch was light, almost reverent, but it carried the weight of everything unsaid between you. His eyes followed the path his hand made, and when he looked back up at you, there was no more hesitation, only a hunger that mirrored your own.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice rough around the edges, as though he was barely holding himself back.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, a familiar ache begging to be satisfied. With every brush of his fingers, you felt your resolve crumbling.

You tilted your chin up, your lips parting in invitation. The look in his eyes was pure need, a reflection of the desire coursing through you. He leaned in, his breath warm on your lips, his scent simply intoxicating now that it was mixed with the sharp fruity champagne.

It was as if time had slowed down, and all you could focus on was the heat of his body, the anticipation of his touch, the promise of everything that would come next. And then, finally, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

The feel of his lips on yours was electric, sending sparks racing across your skin. His mouth moved against yours, hungry and demanding, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. You opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, savoring the taste of him. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before—the combination of the champagne, the adrenaline, and the sheer relief of finally giving in to the chemistry that had been simmering between you was enough to make your head spin.

As his hands roamed over your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat wherever they touched, you could feel your body responding, the desire building with every passing second. He kissed you like a man starved, and you met his hunger with your own, matching his pace. Your hands found his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms, the heat of his skin drawing you in like a magnet. He was solid and real beneath your touch, and you pressed yourself against him, the sensation of his body against yours igniting something primal and uncontrollable inside you.

Lando’s breath hitched at the contact, his hands splaying across your back, fingers digging in just enough to send a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter between you, ready to snap.

“Lando,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, more a plea than anything else.

That was all it took to break the final thread of restraint. There was no gentleness now, only the raw, urgent need that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever.

You kissed him back with equal fervour, your hands sliding up to tangle in his damp curls, pulling him even closer as his hands roamed over your back, your waist, every inch of skin he could reach. The heat of his body, the taste of him on your lips—it was overwhelming in the best possible way, drowning out every thought that wasn’t about him, about this.

Lando’s hands found the clasp of your bra, and with a practiced flick, he had it undone, the fabric slipping away as his hands moved to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp against his mouth. The sound seemed to fuel him, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he backed you up against the lockers, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat between you.

You could feel the solid press of his body against yours, his arousal evident as he pinned you to the lockers, his hands never ceasing their exploration. Reaching your panties, his fingers slid under the band, tugging them down in one smooth motion, his movements sure and confident, as if he knew exactly what he wanted. The sheer contrast of standing before him completely naked while he remained fully clothed amplified the raw vulnerability of the moment, making it feel intensely intimate and charged with a potent, almost primal, energy.

Your own hands moved lower, sliding down his clothed chest, his hard abs, until you reached the waistband of his pants. The feel of his muscles tensing under your touch sent another wave of desire through you, and you wasted no time in slipping your hand beneath the fabric, finding his impressive length and trying to wrap your fingers around him.

His forehead resting against yours as he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes closing as the friction elicited a rush of pleasure that had him breaking the kiss to let out a curse. For a moment, he just stood there, his breath ragged, his hands tightening on your hips, as if trying to steady himself.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire, and the raw honesty of it sent a thrill through you.

“Good,” you replied, your own voice husky with need, your hand beginning to move with deliberate strokes that had him groaning, his head dropping to your shoulder as he tried to keep himself in check. He reached for his fireproofs and pulled them off, his movements almost frantic. You helped him, pushing the fabric over his hips, revealing the perfection of his physique.

You couldn't help but stare at him, taking in the lean, sculpted lines of his body, the taut muscles that flexed with each movement. You inhaled a sharp breath as your eyes finally landed on his cock, hard and swollen with desire. You were no stranger to the male anatomy as your hormones and curiosity had gotten the best of you in the past, but you were starting to become nervous about taking his impressive size inside of you.

Before your brain could spiral too far, you felt Lando's hands on you, his touch firm but gentle, his calloused fingertips sending shivers of pleasure through your body as he traced patterns along your skin, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you. The chemistry between you had ignited into a full-blown inferno, and neither of you had any intention of putting it out.

In a fluid motion, Lando lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you over to the shower that had been steaming in anticipation. You giggled as the warm water hit your skin, the tension between you melting away as the shower cascaded over you both.

"I've been wanting to do this since the moment I saw you," he said, his voice low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver of anticipation down to your core.

"Then don't make me wait any longer," you replied, a challenge and a plea, and the heat that flared in his eyes at the words was enough to make you burn for him.

He lowered his mouth to yours, the kiss slow and deep, a delicious contrast to the urgency. His hand reached between your legs, finding the wetness there and stroking with just the right amount of pressure, his thumb circling your clit and making you gasp into his mouth. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, and he used it against you, building you up slowly but surely, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every expert movement of his hand.

You clung to him, your nails digging into the slick skin of his back, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself against the waves of pleasure that threatened to consume you. He entered two of his thick fingers making you whimper at the stretch. His free hand was on the side of your face, tilting it up to capture your lips with his, kissing you with a tenderness that belied the urgency of the situation. You knew he was trying his best to prepare you for his cock, but it was a lot. He was a lot.

"I don't think you're going to fit," you whispered, feeling embarrassed, but he just smiled, his fingers still working their magic.

"Oh, I will," he promised, and you felt a jolt of desire shoot through you at the certainty in his voice.

The words sent a rush of heat through you, and you felt yourself clenching around his fingers, the pleasure intensifying as he stroked your g-spot with precision. Lando swallowed your moans, the feel of his body pressed against yours, the warmth of the water surrounding you, and the expert movements of his hand bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He was relentless, his fingers working you relentlessly until the pleasure became too much, the tension snapping and sending you crashing over the edge.

The orgasm tore through you, leaving you trembling in its wake, and Lando held you close, his hands gentle now as he supported you. You were gasping for air, the feeling so intense it was almost overwhelming. He murmured your name, his voice soft and low, the sound of it making something inside you ache.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, the intensity of his eyes almost enough to make you forget how to breathe.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice full of emotion, and in that moment, you believed him.

Slowly, the haze of pleasure began to clear, and you became aware of the tension coiled in his body, the way his muscles were taut with restraint, the evidence of his own desire pressed against your thigh. He was still rock-hard, and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you, to experience that connection on a deeper level.

"I'm ready," you breathed, your voice laced with a need that you could no longer deny.

He nodded as he turned you around, pressing your face against the cool tile, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the water. Your breath hitched as he lined up his cock with your entrance, the blunt tip already threatening to breach you. He gathered some of your moisture by rubbing his tip against your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"I'll go slow," he whispered, as his other hand grabbed your neck, forcing you to arch your back. He took a moment to burn this very image in his mind. He had thought about this moment countless times before, but now that it was happening, it was even better than he could have imagined.

With a slow, deliberate push, he was able to get the head inside. Your eyes shut as you felt the stretch, his girth much more than you were used to. You let out a whimper as you reached for the hand currently holding your neck, seeking his support. You could hear him mutter under his breath, the words too quiet for you to make out. You assumed it was a string of curse words, but you didn't dare look.

With his hand gripping your hip, he pushed deeper, slowly but steadily, inch by inch. You could feel every vein on his perfect cock, the stretch dancing on the edge of pain and pleasure. He kept stopping, pulling back a bit and then pushing deeper again. You could tell he was doing his best to let you adjust to his size, but it was still a struggle.

Once he bottomed out, he groaned as you let out a sound that you've never heard yourself make before. A mixture between a moan and gasp. His hands traveled up your body, finding your breasts and giving them a squeeze, before settling on your shoulders. You could feel the water trickling down your back as the steam created a haze around the two of you. You were both panting, trying to catch your breath. You could feel his hot breath against your ear.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough, a mixture of desire and concern.

"Yes," you answered, not even recognizing your own voice, "I'm just a little...full."

He chuckled at that, his cock twitching inside you. He slowly started moving his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls lighting up every nerve in your body. You couldn't string two thoughts together as he started creating a torturous rhythm. One of his hands travelled down to your bundle of nerves, pinching it with every thrust.

"Fuck," you cursed, "fuck, fuck, fuck." You couldn't believe how drunk you were on him.

He chuckled as he grabbed you from the now warm tile, resting you flat against his front. The new angle allowed him to reach deeper, making you whimper and whine with every thrust. His hands reached for your jaw, tilting it so he could stare deeply into your eyes. He was watching every reaction, every change in your expression.

"Tell me what you feel." he demanded, his voice hoarse, and you forced yourself to open your eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity of his stare was almost enough to send you over the edge again, but you clung to the last threads of your self-control, desperate to prolong this moment.

"I feel...I feel everything," you gasped, the words barely more than a whisper. “I’ve never felt like this b—"

He silenced you with a kiss, swallowing the rest of your words. It was a clash of tongues and teeth, a battle for dominance that neither of you could win. The heat between you was unbearable, the need for release consuming every thought. You knew he was close, could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his thrusts were becoming more erratic, less controlled. But you weren't ready to let go, not yet.

You pulled away from the kiss, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Please don't stop," you begged, your voice rough with need, "I need you, Lando."

That was all it took. His eyes darkened, and he let out a growl, his grip on your jaw tightening as he captured your lips again, the kiss almost violent in its intensity. It was as if a switch had been flipped, the raw hunger between you reaching a new level.

He fucked into you with wild abandon, his hips snapping as he chased his release. The pleasure was blinding, the sensation of his cock filling you, stretching you, sending you spiraling toward the edge. You could feel the tension building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until you could no longer hold back.

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs as your body shuddered in his arms. Your eyes closed, the white light behind your eyelids pulsing in time with the waves of pleasure washing over you. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only cling to him as you rode out the storm.

Lando buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips finding the delicate skin there, sucking and nibbling. You could feel the pleasure building again, the combination of his cock inside you, his hands gripping your hips, his lips against your neck sending you hurtling toward another climax.

"I'm close," he panted, his voice rough with need, "so close, fuck."

The words sent a surge of heat through you, and you clenched around him, feeling him shudder as his own release washed over him. You grabbed as his curls, forcing him to look at you, the intensity of his gaze pushing you over the edge again, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

"Fuck, I can feel you," he gasped, his cock twitching inside you as your core milked him, the sensation of his release triggering another wave of pleasure.

You both clung to each other, riding out the waves, the intensity of the moment rendering you speechless. You were both gasping for air, the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your bodies. Lando buried his face in your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound the steady beat of the water as it cascaded over you. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so sated, so utterly spent.

Finally, Lando pulled back, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mix of emotions—relief, contentment, and a hint of something else, something that sent a thrill through you. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"That was...fuck," he said, his voice rough, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You grinned, the joy and satisfaction evident in every line of your body. You could feel him slowly softening inside you, and you reluctantly unwrapped your legs, letting him slide out of you. You gasped feeling yourself become sore already. He chuckled as he noticed, turning off the water and wrapping you in a towel, gently drying you off before lifting you up in his arms.

"You're gonna kill me," he muttered, a spark of humor in his voice, and you laughed, the sound echoing off the tiles, the sound carefree and light.

You kissed him, slow and deep, the kiss full of promises and possibilities. This was only the beginning, and you both knew it. You pulled back, gazing at him with a mixture of awe and admiration, your heart full of the realization of what you'd found, the connection between you now undeniable.

"Get that perfect ass to media duty before they start sending out a search party," you teased, a chuckle escaping as you watched the realization of his looming responsibilities flicker across his face.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, giving you a quick peck on the lips before setting you down, "but just know, this was the best shower I've ever taken."

You smirked, unable to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind."

As he left, a sense of calm washed over you, the satisfaction of the moment lingering in the air like a sweet perfume. The memory of his touch, the weight of his body against yours, the deliciously filthy sounds he had coaxed from you, would stay with you forever, a private treasure. You sighed, reveling in the warmth and comfort that seemed to envelop you, the afterglow of your tryst still humming through your veins.

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badookie · 3 months ago

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Although im not a fan of pacific rim your au has consumed me body and soul, indescribable the happiness i felt when i saw the new art.

Do you have anymore headcannons abt them in this au? If needing was a competition and my oponent was a starving man well by god i would rip that man to shreds...

Aw i'm glad it brought u so much happines! I can't believe I hadn't actually written my universe headcanons anywhere, so i'll chuck it here:

J and V grew up as bestfriends and neighbours. Same kinder, primary, highschool, and college was when the kaiju emerged.

J immediately joined the pilot program and became their posterboy. His drift partner was Mel, who also grew up and went to the same school as them. Viktor was hesitant to join the program due to his leg, but hoped to somehow enter the bio/engineering department to assist in some way. Secretly, it was his selfish desire to be near Jayce, having unrequieted feelings for him since their science presentation at 14 yrs old.

Reunited once again, they train together as new recruits in the Shatterdome. Jayce, ever-eager to begin fighting in his Jaeger, and Viktor anxious to learn where his future lies within the program.

To Viktor's surprise, he is accepted into the Jaeger program, his drift partner being Sky. Despite his leg and back brace, they outfit him with a bespoke suit, and designed their Jaeger (named Machine Herald) for range and reconissance instead of close combat. With little choice in the matter, Viktor and Sky accepted their roles, which ultimately led to Sky's traumatic death 2 years later while still plugged into the drift. This left Viktor deeply traumatised, and he withdrew from the program, and went off-grid.

Meanwhile, Jayce and Mel continue fighting in their Jaeger, named Atlas Gate. They fight for approximately 4 years, however Jayce's body and mind begin to fray, and Mel is deeply dissatisfied with the politics around the program as the Kaiju threat worsens. Despite immense protest, they retire their Jaeger. Jayce attempts and fails to train new recruits and feels aimless, Mel enters the political arena.

As the years go by, the resistance gets desperate as jaeger pilots continue to fall; the kaiju threat growing rapidly worse. In a last ditch attempt, they track down Viktor, and command all living pilots to return to the Shatterdome to continue the fight. By the time Viktor returns, Jayce had spent the inbetween years in the engineering department. Designing blueprints, crafting prototypes, and irritating everyone and everything around him from his soured personality. In ambles Viktor, just as soured and haggard, they can't help but laugh at each other and embrace after 5 years of no communication.

Despite acting like tired old men yet still in their late 20s, they work together in engineering as the program scrambles to find either of them new drift partners. As the months pass, the two of them cling to each other like their lives depend on it. Together, they come up with wild and promising prototypes, new Jaeger models that could outlast the new category Kaijus. Queue their awkward first kiss sometime around this point.

Sorry this is getting way to freaking long. BASICALLY they discover that they're both drift compatible with each other, they agree to fight in a Jaeger one last time, as a final hurrah. Their new prototype Jaeger is built with a combination of Altas Gate's hammer arm and Machine Herald's lazer. They name their Jaeger Hammer Time. They fight and win and live happily ever after the end!!

#is there say gex? what the hell #sure

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gguk-n · 11 months ago

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Can you please write enemies to lovers with Lando where they have their first kiss accidentally using the following prompt :

"Is this some kind of game to you?" She asked, anger in his words. "Are my feelings nothing but a silly little game to you?" He shook his head, the sensation of her lips on his still lingering on his skin. "Never," he told her. "I've been wanting to do that since we first met."

Pit Lane Rivals to Race Partners (Lando Norris x Engineer!Reader)

{Reader's POV}

I knew what I was getting into when I signed the contract with Mclaren as their engineer. Since I had freshly graduated with very little experience I was mostly going to be assisting the other engineers and learning from them. I had been in love with cars since I was little. I remember taking apart the toy cars and trying to put them back together only to be scolded by my mother since my siblings were crying because I broke their toys. Seeing how destructive I had gotten even for a 4 year old, my dad decided I needed to release my energy else where and took me karting. It was the most exciting and the best thing I had ever done. Learning how the machine worked and how to control it as I grew older was my biggest passion in life.

That was what led me to karting races. I was an aggressive driver and anyone who got in my way would feel my wrath. I made sure not to cause a lot of physical or collateral damage. But I did cause one boy a lot of emotional damage. Both of us were fiercely competitive and neither of us liked to lose. Our races always ended with Lando behind me and he could never really take it. I had a good laugh but all of this turned sour when we had a huge fight after a race crash and he pined the entire blame on me when he too was trying to run me off the track. Both our dad's had to intervene and that's how I ended up hating Lando. But I was 11 years old. Right now, I'm older and more mature and I don't really hate anyone, it a strong word. I might dislike people but I don't hate anyone. And the incident with Lando is a funny memory at best.

Lando went up to become a Formula one driver while I had to cut my dreams short since there weren't a lot of opportunities for female racers. I instead took the more academic route and got my degree in automobile engineering and strived to become a race engineer or racing principle one day. So, when I was able to apply for Mclaren which was well on it's way to become the best car on the grid, I couldn't say no. I also thought about Lando, and how I expected to have a bit of a laugh with him about out 'karting rivalry' now that we were older. What I didn't expect was that the boy who's eyes I almost gauged out was still as petty as ever.

It was the first race of the season, in Bahrain and we had flown in a few days before the drivers to get everything set up. So on the day Lando came up to the garage, all the new recruits were introduced to the drivers. Oscar was a sweetheart and even offered us words of encouragement since we were on the same boat. Lando greeted everyone but me properly. He ignored my hand when I raised it up to shake his. I was shocked and my mouth was left hung open. If he wanted to be petty, I can be petty. I made sure to avoid him like the plague and the times we interacted were filled with sarcastic remarks.

Oscar and I had grown pretty close and shared a sibling dynamic. Whenever Lando saw us interacting he would have a scowl on his face. And then a couple months later, Oscar stopped talking to me other then exchanging a few pleasantries. It hurt a little when Oscar ignored me and walked away. I thought we were friends. I felt like I had lost another friend since I joined Mclaren. The first one being Lando, since I imagined that we would've been friends since we karted together but it turns out I was completely wrong. Honestly, he was my first crush too, so it hurt a little more.

Eventually, Lando had gotten a little bearable and he had stopped passing snarky remarks whenever I would suggest a strategy or an upgrade. Each snarky remark and not having a proper friend after losing Oscar too, was starting to get to me. After the DNF in Austria and how pissed Lando was, not many people were willing to confront him; me included. If he hated my guts on a regular day, he would tear me apart today, I thought.

At the end of the day, as were packing up, I ran into Lando. I decided to extend my condolences. "Hi Lando" I said as I almost bumped into his shoulder while stacking up the papers. He looked at me and just nodded, as if to acknowledge my presence. I decide to let it go, since it was bad day for him. "You did pretty well today" I said cautiously. He let out a forced laugh, "ha, you must be so happy. Watching me fall apart" he retorted. "What no?" I replied shocked. "You've always hated me, since we were kids. You left no stone unturned to make me feel like shit. You weren't even a good sport" He spat out. "Ok, Lando, I get it. You had a bad day, it was a bad day for us too. But that doesn't give you the right to say whatever you like." I replied trying to keep my breathing constant. "You were a spoilt sport and always got what you wanted. It must your life's joy watching me struggle" he seethed. "Listen here mister, don't you dare direct your anger towards the one person you see right now. Whatever happened was a race incident and you need to put your big boy pants on and deal with it. Stop being a spoilt brat and taking your anger out on others." I replied calmly. If that asshole said anything else, I was about to slap him. Lando stepped closer, trapping me in between the desk and him. "You think you are so mature and above everyone else don't you" he sneered. Okay, I've had it with him. He has made my life difficult since I set foot in Mclaren. Before I knew it, my hand touched his cheek with a harsh sound.

His eyes were wide open. Before I could say anything, I felt a pair of warm lips on mine. I quickly pushed him away. "Is this some kind of game to you?" I asked, anger in my words. "Are my feelings nothing but a silly little game to you?" He shook his head, the sensation of my lips on his still lingering on his skin. "Never," he told me. "I've been wanting to do that since we first met after so many years." It was my turn to laugh. "You don't say" I chided. "Believe me Y/N I really like you. And I'm sorry for the way I've behaved. I really needed that slap to set me straight" he said while massaging his cheek. "Don't fuck with me" I replied with tears in my eyes. "Then why did you Oscar stop talking to me?" I croaked. "I got jealous" he replied, head held in shame. "I'm sorry. It's just I couldn't stand you laughing at his jokes. I wish I was the one making you laugh." he mumbled. "I wanted us to be friends when I first came here, you were the one who pushed me away." I replied sternly. "I was a stupid kid and I didn't know how to react when I saw my childhood crush." he muttered. I was shocked.

"Give me one chance, I'll repent for my sins and wrong all my rights." he begged. Honestly I wanted to kiss Lando before he started being an ass to me when I first saw him after so many years; maybe I should let my intrusive thoughts win. I pressed my lips against him while my hands found his neck. For a moment, he was still, there was no movement and within seconds I felt his lips move and his hands find a place on my waist. After we pulled away, "I had a crush on you when we were kids too. But I wasn't an ass when we met after so many years." I remarked, "but I'll give you a chance, prove me that you've matured and maybe I'll start thinking about that crush I used to have on you." Lando smiled, "Okay, yes, I'll prove how much I like you" he said while almost hitting the chair on the way out. "Dinner date at 8, I'll pick you up, tomorrow" he called out as he ran off making me laugh.

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askagamedev · 7 months ago

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Summer 2025 Game Development Student Internship Roundup, Part 2

Internship recruiting season has begun for some large game publishers and developers. This means that a number of internship opportunities for summer 2025 have been posted and will be collecting applicants. Internships are a great way to earn some experience in a professional environment and to get mentorship from those of us in the trenches. If you’re a student and you have an interest in game development as a career, you should absolutely look into these.

This is part 2 of this year's internship roundup. [Click here for part 1].

Associate Development Manager Co-op/Internship - Summer 2025 (Sports FC QV)

Game Product Manager Intern (Summer 2025)

Music Intern

EA Sports FC Franchise Activation Intern

Associate Character Artist Intern

Client Engineer Intern

Visual Effects Co-Op

Associate Environment Artist Co-Op (Summer 2025)

Game Design Intern (Summer 2025)

Game Design Co-Op (Summer 2025)

Concept Art Intern - Summer 2025

UI Artist Intern - Summer 2025 (Apex Legends)

Assistant Development Manager Intern

Global Audit Intern

Creator Partnerships Intern - Summer 2025

Technical Environment Art Intern - Summer 2025 (Apex Legends)

Intern, FC Franchise Activation, UKI

Tech Art Intern - Summer 2025 (Apex Legends)

Software Engineer Intern

UI Artist Intern

Game Designer Intern

FC Franchise Activation Intern

Software Engineer Intern

Product UX/UI Designer

Software Engineer Intern

Enterprise, Experiences FP&A Intern

Game Designer Intern

Software Engineer Intern

Development Manager Co-Op (Summer 2025)

Software Engineer Intern

PhD Software Engineer Intern

Character Artist Intern

2D Artist Intern - Summer 2025

Software Engineer Intern (UI)

Entertainment FP&A Intern

Game Design Co-Op (Summer 2025)

Data Science Intern

Production Manager Intern

Software Engineer Intern

Channel Delivery Intern

FC Pro League Operations Intern

World Artist Intern

Experience Design Co-Op

Media and Lifecycle Planning Intern

Software Engineer Intern - Summer 2025

Intern, FC Franchise Activation, North America

Creative Copywriter Intern

Game Design Intern

Social Community Manager Co-Op

Business Intelligence Intern

Software Engineer Intern (F1)

Total Rewards Intern - MBA level

Intern - Office Administration

Digital Communication Assistant – Internship (6 months) february/march 2025 (W/M/NB)

International Events Assistant - Stage (6 mois) Janvier 2025 (H/F/NB)

Intern Cinematic Animator

Research Internship (F/M/NB) - Neural Textures for Complex Materials - La Forge

Research Internship (F/M/NB) - Efficient Neural Representation of Large-Scale Environments - La Forge

Research Internship (F/M/NB) – High-Dimensional Inputs for RL agents in Dynamic Video Games Environments - La Forge

Research Internship (F/M/NB) – Crafting NPCs & Bots behaviors with LLM/VLM - La Forge

3D Art Intern

Gameplay Programmer Intern

Intern Game Tester

Etudes Stratégiques Marketing – Stage (6 mois) Janvier 2025 (F/H/NB)

Localization Assistant– Stage (6 mois) Avril 2025 (F/H/NB)

Fraud & Analyst Assistant - Stage (6 mois) Janvier 2025 (F/H/NB)

Payment & Analyst Assistant - Stage (6 mois) Janvier 2025 (F/H/NB)

Media Assistant – Stage (6 mois) Janvier 2025 (F/H/NB)

IT Buyer Assistant - Alternance (12 mois) Mars 2025 (H/F/NB)

Event Coordinator Assistant - Stage (6 mois) Janvier 2025 (H/F/NB)

Communication & PR Assistant - Stage (6 mois) Janvier 2025 (F/H/NB)

Brand Manager Assistant - MARKETING DAY - Stage (6 mois) Janvier 2025 (F/N/NB)

Manufacturing Planning & Products Development Assistant - Stage (6 mois) Janvier 2025 (H/F/NB)

Retail Analyst & Sales Administration Assistant - Stage (6 mois) Janvier 2025 (H/F/NB)

UI Designer Assistant - Stage (6 mois) Janvier 2025 (F/M/NB)

Esports Communication Assistant

Machine Learning Engineer Assistant – Stage (6 mois) Janvier/Mars 2025 (F/H/NB)

Social Media Assistant – Stage (6 mois) Janvier 2025 (F/H/NB)

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jaal-ama-daravv · 6 months ago

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(OC) Valerie van Hel

Name: Valerie van Hel Nickname: Valley of Hell Nickname Origin: left a notable trail of dead adeptus mechanius in the outskirts of the capitol. as she remained anonmyous for two decades, the area surrounding her hideout was dubbed the nickname, 'Valley of Hell'. As Valerie was orphaned and had no viable surname, she incorported this into her name. Occupation: Inquisition Acolyte Discipline: Divination Psyker Psyker Grading: Alpha Gender: Female Age: 34

TL;DR: Orphaned. went on a destructive killing spree for 20 years against the adeptus mechanicus and was then caught for causing a high ranking priest to kill themselves. was forcefully detained than deemed a potential asset. was recruited to Witchbreaker's retinue (@vossprime) and is considered extremely difficult and obstructive. not likely to ever break nor bend.

Physical Appearance:

blindfold: valerie is not blind, nor has extensive damage come to her eyes. worn to amplify powers and senses. will kill you if you attempt to remove it.

build: slim, sharp build. somewhat muscular.

height: 176 cm

fair skin, light freckles on cheeks

medium shoulder blade length hair. copper in colour, with a black fringe.

dresses in black, highlights of burgandy, and gold affects

cat 2 burn mark across face. damage to nose, neck, and right side of her face. flesh replaced with skull augment.

deep scar over lip

piercings in both ears

has an almost permanently snarl

speaks primarily in poetic meter, iambic pentameter

if not using abilities, she walks with her hands behind her back, quietly

aura: believes in death by a thousand cuts

HD image here

Origin: Sublevel Outcast

Homeworld: M'Pandex, Gothic Sector

Personality: darkly charismatic, machiavellian, visionary, eerily calm, obsessive, calculating, a sense of yearning, philosophical, ruthless.

Notable Personality Traits:

Darkly Charismatic – Valerie possesses a charm that lures others in, despite her twisted moral compass.

Obsessive - need for control

Detached Romantic - views love as a transcendent force that could defy even death itself. a consuming force despite spending decades alone.

Ruthless – valerie is unwavering in her pursuit of what she desires, and is willing to destroy and and all obstacles in her way.

Trivia:

"You'll gaze upon the shadow of your end, A specter birthed by folly and disdain. Each breath you draw shall whisper death’s command, And every step shall lead you to the grave." - engraved into a large tree on the perimeter of the Valley of Hell

Background:

Valerie was a child born and subsequently abandoned by defectors to the adeptus mechanicus cult. Following the birth of Valerie, she was abandoned to the forge world temple, and was held at the orphanage till she was 16.

Valerie grew up like any other orphan - never knowing who to trust or what her purpose was.She was beaten, bruised, and tortured by the older members of the church. Tech priests.

Valerie has a disdain for authority and thinks any authority can be crushed. For this is how she became captured and 'recruited' by the Inquisition. Valerie's powers came apparent in her teens and were kept mostly underwraps as they were powers of divination, something she learned to control well. She was trained and laboured into engineering from age 10 and therefore possessed profound knowledge of the workings of the adeptus mechanicus inner workings.

At 16 her powers began to evolve - however Valerine noticed that this was more apparent when her eyes were open. Therefore she donned a blindfold and left the orphaned, not wanting to be indentured to the cult, or killed. Valerie was a lone wolf type, kind of an anarchist. She caused havoc on the forge world due to being beaten and bruised by her found family in the temple; which almost led to her powers being discovered.

In her 20’s and early 30s, she would disrupt the tech priests of the forge world and their machinations and cause havoc. She was known in the underground world for dismantling tech priests that strayed too far off the beaten path near her hideout. Earning that province the title of ‘Valley of Hell’. Although Valerie would dismantle them,she would return their body for funeral rites, well, most of their body anyway. She wasnt that cruel.

She made a living off of selling their parts and secrets from showing them their eventual death, scaring them into revealing secrets and trade routes. Eventually, Valerie was cornered by Inquisition agents. A unit was sent after her due to Valerie convincing the head of the church to kill themselves after an incident where they threatened her and called her worthless. She made mistakes in covering her tracks which led them to the Valley of Hell. It took them months to track her down in the Valley of Hell as she turned them against each other for weeks on end. Eventually she tired of the onslaught. They cornered her after they displaced an attempt at teleportation. She was bound and cuffed. They had strict orders for her not to be killed; she was too powerful an asset to be killed.

Bonus:

#warhammer #wh40k #warhammer oc #warhammer art #art #oc: valerie van hel

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esperfruit · 1 year ago

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More short TTTE Human AU refs

Victor de Cèspedes

Age: 42

Height: 183 cm

Victor is a mechanic and engineer from Cuba. He came to Sodor after he was recruited by Sir Topham Hatt, who heard about his famous skills after the company Victor worked for went bankrupt. He had a lot of trouble shortly after his arrival because he couldn't speak English at first. The first English word he learned was "red" when he chose his new uniform. His primary job is the repairs of machines, there is almost nothing he can't fix.

Despite being busy and strict, he has a charming and accomodating personality and wants to create a good work atmosphere for everyone. He earned many sympathy points with people after he told off Spencer and embarassed him. In an accident, he feel down a cliff but miraculously survived. After he went missing for a while, he cleared up the misunderstanding that Luke might have killed him. Victor has a clumsy assistant named Kevin, who tests his patience on a daily basis but Victor knows he's a good guy.

Charlie Wardle

Age: 20

Height: 177 cm

A young man from the city, who just entered the work life. Before that, Charlie was partying all the time and was very popular. He has an easy-going and fun-loving personality and loves making others laugh. Unfortunately he has the bad habits of being careless, easily distracted and often doesn't treat things serious enough. The younger ones like Thomas, Percy, Rebecca and Paxton see in him a good friend and fun to hang out with while on the other hand most older adults like Gordon, Henry and Cranky find him, annoying, unfunny and view him as a general nuiscence.

After Charlie got into a lot of trouble due to his carelessness, Edward took him in as his apprentice because he saw how Charlie felt genuine regret for what he did. Charlie feels a lot of gratitude towards him and started endearlingly calling him "Eddie".

Trevor Foster

Age: 63

Height: 171 cm

The principal of the school Thomas, Percy, Rosie and Philip attend. He his very good-hearted and likes children, he wants nothing but the best for them. Trevor is usually polite and peaceful but he will take any measures to make sure everyone, who hurts a child will be punished.

Outside of school, he helps out at the local church by taking care of its orchard. He owns a steam tractor in which he often gives rides with. Trevor is also good friends with Terence and Bertie. The three organized a big party once to earn enough money so children could go to the beach during summer vacation. He also became a close friend of Edward after the latter brought him to the hospital when he collaped once. Even since then Trevor looks after Thomas in school for Edward.

Terence Crawler

Age: 33

Height: 190 cm

A local farmer, who owns a caterpiller tractor. He usually uses it for ploughing but on request he can fulfill other jobs. Similar to Bertie with his bus, Terence has a strong atattchment to his tractor as he was willing to do anything to save it from falling into a lake when ice under it cracked. He is assertive, helpful and always eager to do a job. He has the saying: "You have to be sensible if you want to stay safe." and he easily forgives other for getting cheeky with him. Despite being very friendly and good-natured, a few people such as James find him quite unsetteling because he always has"that smile"...

Kenji Shima

Age: 17

Height: 169 cm

A high school student from Japan, who took in an internship with an inventor during summer vacation. He accompanied his superior to a science fair on Sodor and was helping out with presentations. When members of a smuggling ring failed to steal secret and valuable blueprints, they held Kenji hostage to get away but he was saved by Sonny, who betrayed the ring.

Kenji is from a family of scientists and his parents have high expectations for him to become their sucessor but there is one severe problem: Kenji struggles with technology. Regardless, he studies hard to learn and adapt skills and knowledge. Kenji is determined, organized and clever but also a bit anxious as he hates being alone and he fears dissapointing his family if he doesn't become scenentist like them.

#thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #ttte human au #ttte humanized #ttte victor #ttte charlie #ttte trevor #ttte terence #ttte kenji

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granulesofsand · 17 days ago

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🗝️🏷️ discussion OEA programming

TL;DR: We call our experiences programming because we have choices and this is our choice. You also have choices and get to make your own choice.

We’ve made leaps and strides on our programming since confronting it as such. I’m not terribly attached to the name, but it’s sometimes more apt than ITBC or TBMC… and I like the sci-fi sound of it.

I don’t consider programming to necessitate extreme abuse — I also use it in the high control group sense. We’ve found it helpful to have one word that takes multiple meanings depending on the context. Sometimes I am talking about ITBC, sometimes coercive control, sometimes manipulation of social dynamics. They overlap for us.

I know our abusers are just people. We generally don’t apply good and evil to any situation, only harm and how we define it. They did influence our DID, though the line between purposeful intervention and natural progression is blurry. There are times I know our survival responses were co-opted or our structure was pushed in non-normative directions for their convenience.

We have a few organizational structures that were enforced by our perpetrators, including color early on and symbolic objects like plants or gemstones later. The color was absolutely intentional, where we were dressed up depending on what behavior was expected and called by different names. The more symbolic assignments were given like nicknames, and we were taught about them like a person talks about their interests. Some instances were explicit, some not.

We have automatic responses to environmental stimuli that we remember being trained for, though not usually with fancy machines or all-powerful witchcraft — the exceptions being lies we were told and believed. Learning stage magic and basic engineering has helped a lot in that regard.

We had assigned places to keep us from talking to one another, each based on memories or common descriptions. Even the structures that wall those areas off and the alters who guard them could come to be with only a child’s creativity, but that doesn’t make the sessions with dolls and blueprints go away.

Everything that can be programmed has to be possible without. Control and torment is all there is to it.

We had evidence enough to convince us before we left, and have made better sense of some questions since. We can’t prove it, and either way doubt is useful. For us experiencing it and whoever reads that we do.

It doesn’t matter much to me whether our memories are accurate; our perps don’t know where we are, so it doesn’t matter if they really were that dangerous. Right now, we want to know what’s working for us and what we can change.

We were very lucky in that our group was sputtering out in our lifetime. Lack of funding and recruits shut down the operations that kept people invested, so people moved away. Our family moved, and it was only conditioning that this was the right way to do things that kept us trapped in abuse. The biggest threat is defanged, and any investigation we want to start or charges we want to press can wait until we have our personal narrative in line.

We can be incoherent at times, contradict ourselves and act out of fear. It’s not unusual for some memories to turn out mostly symbolic, for interpretations to be colored by experience and change over time. For a lot of people, having been through abuse and deprivation means skills like critical thinking and meaning-making are underdeveloped. Everybody starts somewhere, even if it’s not a pretty place.

I’m glad to see people are stepping out of conformity mindsets and taking their next steps to wherever they’re going. It’s okay if we’re not heading in the same direction. I have my own values and goals, and they have theirs.

I’m happy with my course right now. I have a sense of history and a background that I can honor, even if my perspective on it changes. I can take what helps and set the rest down. I can reevaluate and shuffle my load. It’s not over until I’m over, and I’m still living.

You can do that too. The mistakes and missteps are part of the adventure, even if it doesn’t feel like one in real time. You’re not going to know which risks will pay off, or sometimes even which ones you’re taking. Healing is giving yourself the power to get by with what you have, and to give yourself more as you go. You get to choose, and choose again, as long as you live.

Call it programming if you want. Find another framework if it doesn’t work for you. Mix and match. Every action has natural consequences, so you’ll just have to find out what happens with time. You’re already doing it.

#oea #programmed system #itbc #tbmc #ramcoa

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deepspaceboytoy · 4 months ago

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The Imperial Legions (Legiones Imperii Astra)

The Legions of the Imperium Humanum are legendary, born out of the fires of the desperate, close-won 1st Aberinian War, when humanity learned it was not alone in the universe in a shocking manner. First deployed in the heroic last stand at Ravenna, their tenacity and sheer lethality bought the Imperium time to regroup, and retake what had been lost by launching Herius Victus’ famous counterattack. Reputation and legacy secured, the Imperium quickly adopted the Legions as the third branch of its military, after the Navy and Army.

The basic organizational level is the Legion itself. Each of the thousands of Legions is a fully self-contained fighting formation, capable of sustaining combat operations near-indefinitely on their own. Legion command is based at Legion CENTCOM, the Legion strategic nexus located on Ravenna, military capital of the Imperium. From there, there are the 12 Sectors Imperialis commands, corresponding to the Zones of Responsibility maintained by the Navy’s 12 Fleets. Each fleet is responsible, and has operational authority over, 2400 Legions, though during wartime, the realities of combat losses may see that number fall. Fleets are also responsible for the maintenance of the hundreds of Campus Martials spread across the Imperium, where legionary recruits are sent to endure harsh training regimens.

A standard line infantry Legion, often referred to as a Heavy Infantry Legion, typically consists of 150-250 thousand legionaries, including maintenance, medical, mechanical, intelligence, and command elements. There are no non-Legionary personnel attached, due to the intensity of Legion combat. Every member of a Legion is fully combat certified, able to slotted into an infantry role at any moment, and every member is trained in basic skills in all areas of military knowledge. Every legionary is a fighter, and every legionary is also an engineer, medic, scout, tanker, or officer if the need arises.

From there, the Legion is divided into cohorts, of which a standard Legion has 10. The actual size of a cohort varies from Legion to Legion, but they typically range from 10-20 thousand legionaries. These are then further divided into maniples, usually numbering around 1000, finally divided into centuries of 100 legionaries. Squads, or contubernium, number 10.

Notably, Legions do not contain dedicated special forces units, instead relying on the many specialist Legions. These are the Marines, lighter-weight infantry for shipboard security and naval combat, the Drop Assault, high speed shock infantry meant to be dropped from low orbit inside their armor, the Heavy Siege, dedicated siege infantry meant to crack reinforced defensive positions, and the dreaded Commandos. This system is designed to encourage close cooperation between Legions of different disciplines, and serves well to keeps its disparate forces operating smoothly.

To become a legionary is to be subjected to some of the most ruthless, strict, merciless training regimens in the galaxy, put through extensive medical and genetic engineering and redesign, and conditioned to tolerate battlefield conditions that would kill any baseline human instantly, all to give them a chance against the horrifying alien species and nightmarish war machines and advanced weapons of the 28th century.

The process begins in the Imperial Army, where the most promising candidates are selected by Legionarii Conscriptori to begin the process informally called Induction. First, legionary candidates are sent to one of the many hundreds of Campus Martials spread across the Imperium, to undergo 9 months of brutal, rigorous physical and mental conditioning. Only 37% of initial candidates will see the 9 months out, the rest either washing out, injuring themselves, or in some regrettable instances, dying.

From the remaining 37%, trainees are deployed to the Legiones Auxilia, secondary formations that follow Legions around on combat deployments, serving as supplementary forces for low-intensity conflicts, like the many border skirmishes along the Imperial Frontier, or anti-piracy operations in regions of the Imperium that have seen war. To complete this phase, each inductee must complete three combat deployments alongside the Legions.

Deployments typically consist of rear-echelon tasks, base garrisoning or serving as military police, but at least one deployment must see combat. For most recruits, this means some sort of engagement with the disparate pirate and raider factions that make up the Imperial periphery’s most dangerous denizens. Recruits may see action as part of a boarding crew, air assaults on planet-based ship facilities, or security for civilian elements. Survive to the end, and the hard part begins.

Recruits are sent home on 6 weeks rest and relaxation, to recover and decompress from what they’ve been through. The percentage of remaining trainees has fallen to 21% by now. From here, recruits are sent to various medical facilities around the Imperium, where they begin what is known as Genehancement: the genetic reengineering of the human physiology to produce a superior soldier. First and foremost is the sharpening of the mind. Artificial hormones, redesigned endocrine system, and lab-engineered adrenaline reduce reaction times to nano-seconds, extend sight dozens of miles, hearing not far behind. Smell can isolate micro particles and scents 3 days travel away. Sensory organs are reinforced: Legionaries can experience multiple simultaneous sonic booms in a confined room before experiencing reduced hearing, and several dozen before any traumatic loss. The eyes can see into multiple new spectrums, including infrared and ultraviolet. Taste can reveal microscopic toxic doses.

Physically, their bodies are reinforced to preposterous levels. Hyper-dense organic alloys reinforce the skeleton, and rapid self-healing enzymes can begin repairing fractures and breaks even as they begin. Synthetic muscle coils add mechanical strength to their musculature, and a second nervous system renders them immune to massive levels of trauma. Redundant lungs, a reinforced spine, second enlarged heart, and organic cushion around the brain mean Legionaries can suffer shocking injuries before any lasting damage occurs. Their blood circulates faster and in far greater volumes, now capable of clotting in minutes and flushing toxins and pollutants from the bloodstream. Their lungs process oxygen more efficiently than any normal human could imagine, fueling their bulked out frames and increasing their ability to heal.

Their frames change, raised to a standard height of 260 centimeters, 8’6 feet tall. Their stride becomes bouncing, loping, completely at odds with their bulky, broad size. On the run, they can eat the meters up in the blink of an eye: legionaries can reach speeds up to 87 kph while inside their specialized power armor.

The most significant biological upgrade legionaries will receive is the Synaptic Adaptor System, allowing them to link their nervous system to a Combat Infantry Suit, the standard powered armor of the Imperial Legions. Of every change they experience, the CIS is perhaps the most powerful.

The Combat Infantry Suit is a an advanced suit of armor, composed of hypermetal alloys, molecularly bonded ballistic ceramics, blast and tear resistant joint meshes, and layers of fusion-powered synthetic muscle fiber bundles, micro-hydraulics, and fusion pistons. Designed for sheer strength and speed, the suits allow Legionaries to perform feats of superhuman, and shocking, violence. A legionary’s punch is capable of imparting 32000 newtons of kinetic force. At sprint, they can reach nearly 90 kilometers an hour, drop from orbit at 160 kilometers up, and survive indirect orbital bombardment. They are powered by a Realm-energy fueled zero point fusion reactor, providing energy for longer than the universe will last. Environmental seals protect them up to 3600 degrees kelvin, 1.8 roentgens per second, and against almost all forms of biological and virological agents.

Suits respond to a user’s thoughts; as soon as a legionary has reacted to something, the suit is acting on it, assessing combat systems, terrain, enemy information and battlefield conditions, and suggesting combat solutions. It can stimulate muscle regions to induce or enhance actions the legionary undertakes, and learns overtime exactly how its assigned legionary prefers to fight. They can provide firing solutions, calculating trajectories and angles of attack, identify critical target information, and provide up to the second data regarding combat effectiveness and operational progress.

Suits serve as mobile data servers, one massive, insulated server spread across each suit in a Legion. In battle, Legion commanders can shunt orders down to their officers as fast as they can think them. In high stress environments, the on-board combat AI can even provide tactical command, in the event that battlefield stress is interfering with an officer’s state of mind. Suits provide real-time, networked data feeds allowing legionaries to monitor the condition and capabilities of their comrades, and allows officers instant updates on the status of their troops. Each suit is capable of maintaining a network of hardlinked combat drones, providing enhanced sensor information, electronic warfare capabilities, and mass swarm attacks with suicide platforms.

Suits also contain their own onboard armaments, most notably the stowed combat blades legionaries use in close-quarters combat. Deploying from a mount on the forearm, the blades can be extended or retracted at will, providing instant access to monomolecular hypersteel swords, the legionary gladii. Gladii are heat-tempered, sharpened down to the atomic level, designed to cleave through armor and organic defenses like paper. Specialized units like the Heavy Siege also feature integrated multiple-launch rocket systems, sonic-based anti-vehicle fist-mounted breaching tools, or the shoulder-mounted turrets of the Marines, meant to cover the rear of a Marine unit in the close, crowded, confusing confines of a starship.

The final item in any legionary’s armament is their firearm. The standard legionary rifle, the the AB-27 Pilum, uses a series of magnetically accelerated rails to launch a tungsten-cored round at over 4,000 meters per second. This devastating weapon is linked to a legionary’s suit, providing real time information displays, a helmet-displayed targeting reticle, and detailed status of the weapon itself.

All together, these enhancements, and the accompanying arsenal, render legionaries into the singular most effective fighting force of the 28th century, but it is a narrow thing. Fiendishly strong alien species, like the incredibly durable Aberinians, or mechanized forces like the Auvda’motari tankers of the Benden Military States, are all fully capable of defeating even the most experienced legionary. Humanity is not blessed with the strength, cunning, and endurance of her many alien neighbors, and the legionary provides her only means of meeting the dangers of this galaxy on an even playing field.

#the victusverse #think of Legionaries like if space marines weren’t gay and made by a dumb guy #also I’m pretty sure this coheres but I was high finishing it so I can’t be sure

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