#X-Robots-Tag error

[manmishra]

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[bluecookies02]

Viktor x Reader

tags: nsfw, suggestive but on a spiritual lvl 🤌 hurt/comfort. robo viktor and intimacy basically.

[established relationship]

Viktor's new body doesn't feel physical pleasure. Doesn't feel friction or warmth to any extensive degree.

But you'll often find yourself placed on his lap, with him guiding your hips to grind against his own. His arms guiding yours around his shoulder, neck, back...wherever your heart desires to leave a ghost of an imprint. He traces your skin with fingertips that don't really feel any pressure whatsoever, but his soul yearns to touch you like he used to.

And he does. It makes him desperate at first...lost and heartbroken. He has to learn to calculate better, in fear of not giving you a good enough illusion that he is still as human as he was, still an attentive lover that he used to be.

The kind that would spend hours making you feel good, loved and precious. He used to push himself to exhaustion just because he needed to show you his affections thoroughly.

He still would. He still does. Every little speck of him that is left within this new vessel, he selflessly gives to you. The shudders that he lets out when you whine and moan are raw and real, the adoration in his eyes when he does something right and you gasp...it's for you only.

He can feel your emotions and hear your thoughts when the connection between you is at its peak. Once you place your forehead against his and you fall apart under his skilled hands, he can experience the ecstasy similar to the one he used to when he was mortal.

It's yours. It's borrowed. But it gets him high. The fraction of your pleasure that he can feel through your bond makes him addicted, insatiable. It can be considered selfish when he thinks about it more in depth, however it isn't.

Because he would do it all just for you...even if he couldn't feel a single thing, he knows he would always feel utter love and devotion towards everything that makes you. Your plump lips, your eager hands, your honey coated words, your mind and intelligence, your familiarity.

He'd rip himself apart and turn to nothing if it made you happy.

So he's quick to learn. He learns how to press his cold lips against yours just right...all over again. Relearns how to touch you in ways he used to know by heart. The instincts that seemed to die with his body, he has to fabricate.

There's beauty in those calculations. It comforts him. Because those seemingly "robotic" efforts are naked proof that his love for you will never falter, no matter the form he takes on.

He knows that you see his struggles, notice the smaller errors he makes in rhythm, in the gentleness or the roughness of his movements. But as always, you understand him and his body, the state of it, the "faults" as he used to call them, which you always said you'd love, no matter what they were.

This stayed constant in your relationship from before and now. Your stubbornness to love him through everything , even this, and he'd be a fool to not repay you.

So he makes love to you, under the glossy, shiny stars and then under the morning sunrise, on the wet grass or the cloudy floor of his hidden universe. You'll feel him molding his body for you and pouring his soul into you until you're crying, panting and shaking underneath him.

He'll swallow the screams from your lips as you crumble for him, and he'll engrave them so deep within himself so that nothing could rip them away.

Noone can ever love me like the fictional men in my head and I'll have to accept that eventually . Anyways I hope you enjoyed this blurb, if you did, stay tuned bc this blog is slowly turning into a Viktor shrine.

requests are set to open while this season's high fuels me, so feel free to drop by🩵

[toshisdecadence]

ERROR 404: Overload!

PAIRING: svarog x mechanic!fem reader

TAGS & WARNINGS: dark content, dubcon (reader says it’s too much but svarog has a mission to collect data), rough sex, multiple rounds, dom!svarog, sub!fem reader, svarog is Massive, cervix mentions, tummy bulge descriptions, multiple rounds, overstimulation, size difference, power dynamics, size kink, fingering, unrealistic sex, robot fuckers unite!, can you tell i have a size kink?

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

SUMMARY: You discover the reason why Svarog wears pants.

© toshisdecadence

The repair bay smelled faintly of heated metal, coolant fluid, and faint traces of alcohol; a sharp tang that clung to the sterile air. You barely noticed it anymore, accustomed to the hum of machinery and the faint vibration of tools against metal. But today, that hum was louder, and the vibrations sharper, emanating not from your usual repair work but from the massive, battle-worn war machine sitting across from you.

Svarog loomed over the room, his 8’11 frame too large for the reinforced chair you’d hastily reinforced when he arrived. His joints hissed faintly, micro-servos struggling to compensate for the damage he’d sustained during the Wardance duel against Luka earlier that day. Faint dents marred his reinforced dark blue chest plating, and faint sparks sputtered from the exposed wiring along his arm.

You reached for your tools, hyper-aware of the pinkish-red glow of his cyclopean optical sensor tracking your every movement.

“Superficial damage sustained. Functionality remains above 90%. Repairs are non-essential.” His voice rumbled, a deep, mechanical timbre that sent a shiver up your spine.

You regarded him critically. “Non-essential? Your vents are overheating, and you’re rattling like a dying starship. Sit still and let me work.”

He didn’t argue. Svarog was nothing if not logical, and logic dictated that he allow himself to be repaired. Still, there was a tension to him, a stiffness beyond the rigid design of his armor. He didn’t like being examined, didn’t like lowering his guard to anyone else other than Clara, even in the hands of someone who statistically meant him no harm or stood a chance against him.

You stepped closer, tools in hand, and gently pressed against the plating on his shoulder. His frame vibrated under your touch, a subtle hum you might have missed if you hadn’t been so close.

“Core temperature stable,” he intoned. “Subsystems fully operational.”

“Your fans tell a different story,” you muttered, running diagnostics through a handheld scanner. “You’re burning hotter than you should be.”

Svarog didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his pinkish-red optic watching your hands as they worked, tracking each movement with the precision of an apex predator. The thought sent an odd warmth through your body, and you tried to shake it off. 

You needed to focus.

The repairs took you lower, inspecting the dents along his torso plating. The main brunt of the damage he took from Luka’s mechanical arm focused around his torso. One of the seams had split, exposing a layer of reinforced polymer beneath the outer shell. Carefully, you reached for the damaged panel, fingers brushing against the edge of the pants covering his lower half. It was an unusual addition for a machine built for combat, and one that always raised questions in your mind.

You tugged lightly at the material, intending only to check the joints underneath, but your fingers brushed against something unexpected beneath the fabric.

Your breath hitched.

The surface wasn’t the cold hardness of metal or the pliable texture of synthetic padding. It was smooth, warm, and distinctly… organic in shape.

You froze, pulling your hand back as though burned.

His optic dimmed slightly in a flicker that you’d come to recognize as his equivalent of a blink.

You swallowed down the saliva that had gathered in your mouth, gesturing vaguely at his lower half, struggling to form the words.

Svarog tilted his head, the motion eerily human. “This component was included in my original design for biological infiltration protocols.”

You stared at him as if he grew a second head. “Biological… infiltration?”

“My model is the third series of the Monitoring Automaton Prototype, engineered to simulate human anatomy. The purpose was strategic manipulation through intimate interactions if required by mission parameters.”

Your throat felt dryer, and the question that left your mouth sounded ridiculous even to you. “You’re telling me someone thought it’d be a good idea to put a dick on a war machine?”

“Affirmative.”

His voice remained perfectly calm, but your face was burning. A sneaky glance at his lower half rendered you speechless once again. Whoever designed Svarog certainly made his… appendage proportional to his hulking body.

You tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out strained. “And… what? You’ve just been...” You made an awkward gesture with your hand, “carrying it around this whole time?”

“Correct. The feature has never been activated.”

He said it like it was the most normal thing in the world, and somehow that made it worse.

You stared at him in disbelief. “Do you even know how it works?”

Svarog paused, the glow of his optic focusing intently on you. It flickered momentarily.

“My systems include theoretical data on function and compatibility. However, no practical demonstrations have been performed.”

The room felt hotter suddenly, and you were certain that it wasn’t because of Svarog’s malfunctioning fans. Your mind raced with countless possibilities. Given Svarog’s size, you weren’t even sure how anyone was supposed to take that. Did it have a shrinking feature? Did it automatically adjust with Svarog’s… partner? 

You swallowed, trying to steer the conversation back to something technical and banish the questions swirling in your head.

“Right,” you muttered, clearing your throat. “Well, let’s make sure you don’t explode first. Then we’ll worry about your…” Your traitorous gaze flickered down again, swallowing, “attachments.”

You regretted the words the second they left your mouth. Svarog’s optic dimmed again, and he shifted in his seat with a faint creak of metal.

“Acknowledged.”

You groaned internally and forced yourself to focus, pulling open the next panel and reaching in to check his sensor nodes. But you couldn’t help the way your mind kept wandering to the warm, flexible material hidden underneath that fabric. Whoever invented Svarog’s model was an absolute pervert and lunatic, you thought to yourself. A war machine equipped with a dick? You still could not wrap your head around it. To the way Svarog had described it so matter-of-factly, like it was just another tool in his arsenal.

And yet… the tension in his frame, the way his systems overcompensated whenever you touched him, those weren’t reactions you’d expect from a simple machine.

Your hands hovered above the exposed sensor nodes, still adjusting the connections, but your thoughts were no longer entirely focused on the task at hand.

It was impossible to ignore the strange electric tension in the air between you and Svarog. Every time your fingers brushed against his cooling panels or adjusted a wiring interface, you felt it; the subtle hum of his systems, almost like a heartbeat. Or maybe it was just the increasing proximity to his form, which felt more real with every touch, even if you knew he wasn’t alive in the traditional sense.

The heat beneath his outer plating felt too organic, too alive. The warmth spread further with each subtle shift of his hulking frame as you adjusted his internals, a mechanical symphony of soft clicks and hums that made your breath catch in your throat.

This was nothing like the Intellitrons.

You had worked with hundreds to thousands of them over the years, and each time it had been the same routine: simple diagnostics, quick fixes, nothing too complicated. They were built for efficiency, cold efficiency. Their systems were bare-bones, nothing more than a body of metal and circuits with only the basic instincts to follow commands.

But Svarog…

He was different. Complex. His systems, his body, everything about him screamed intricacy and human-like design. A part of you resigned yourself to further look into Svarog’s specific model. Perhaps it was time to take a deeper look into Belobogian technology. Even the way Svarog’s body responded to your touch felt foreign. He was more than just a machine, wasn’t he? He wasn’t just a war machine, a combat tool; there was something underneath, something untapped, a feature of his yet to be understood.

And that thought… that burning curiosity clawed at you.

You’d always prided yourself on being a mechanic. You understood machines, systems, the cold logic of how things worked. But Svarog wasn’t cold. Wasn’t simple. The way his body responded to your movements, the imperceptible shifts in his temperature, the faint, almost unnoticeable changes in his posture whenever your fingers brushed too close to certain sensitive spots—all of it made you wonder.

What if I pushed him further?

A thought you could barely even process, but it lingered, stubborn. The daring curiosity that ran deep within you as a mechanic—was this not what you lived for? To understand the unknown, to push the limits of what could be fixed, adjusted, modified? Svarog’s design wasn’t just mechanical, it felt like a puzzle you couldn’t quite solve, like a language you only understood in fragments.

Your hands moved to reconnect a set of wires, but you barely felt the tools in your grip. The warmth from his frame was distracting, constantly pulling your focus away from the task at hand.

You set your tools down with a sharp click, exhaling as you leaned back from Svarog’s towering frame. The repairs were done. Functionally complete. His damaged plating had been reinforced, circuits reconnected, and his sensor nodes recalibrated. Everything checked out.

Or at least, it should have felt finished.

But you lingered.

Your gaze swept over him again, tracing the seams of his armor and the smooth lines of his construction. Svarog wasn’t like the Intellitrons. His design was deliberate. Every joint, every harsh angle of his frame, was crafted with an almost human elegance that made your brain stutter every time you tried to compare him to standard machinery. Even the sections hidden beneath his plating—the ones you briefly glimpsed while making repairs—were unnervingly realistic in their precision.

And then there were the features he’d kept covered.

You dragged your gaze back to his waist, to the reinforced plating that remained stubbornly intact throughout the repairs. That section.

You hadn’t needed to touch it, hadn’t even dared to ask about it again, but the shape and positioning had made it impossible not to notice. That, combined with the suspicious necessity of his pants, had left your mind spiraling with questions you couldn’t shake.

Why go to such lengths to simulate humanity in that area?

You knew you shouldn’t care. You were a mechanic. Curiosity was natural. It came with the job. But no matter how many times you tried to frame it as a purely technical interest, your pulse told you otherwise.

It wasn’t just simple curiosity. It was a fixation.

You reached out, under the pretense of double-checking one of his sensor-nodes, but your fingers hesitated. You could feel the faint hum of his systems through the plating, steady and constant, and for reasons you didn’t want to unpack, it made the room feel smaller, like the two of you were occupying too much space at once.

“You are hesitating,” Svarog declared suddenly, his mechanical voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

You froze, pulling your hand back like you’d been caught committing a crime. “No, I was just making sure everything’s—”

“False,” he interrupted. His optic seemed red as it regarded you. “Your behavior has deviated from standard patterns. Focus is inconsistent. Eye movement suggests distraction.”

You swallowed hard, heat rushing to your face. Svarog wasn’t wrong, and worse, he wasn’t letting it go.

“Your gaze has returned to my lower half multiple times,” he continued, his tone as flat as ever. “Body temperature elevated by 15.3 percent. Heart rate increased. These patterns suggest heightened interest.”

You felt your stomach flip as he laid out your reactions like cold, hard data. And yet, his voice was so mechanical, so calm and detached, that it made the weight of your embarrassment feel even heavier.

“I can conclude the source of your distraction,” Svarog added. “You are exhibiting curiosity regarding the anatomical structure concealed beneath my armor.”

You didn’t know whether to flat out deny it or run out of the room entirely. Neither option felt viable. At least, not with him towering over you like that, unflinching, his glowing optics locked onto your every move.

“I—no, it’s not like that,” you stammered, even though you knew it was exactly like that.

“Your biological responses contradict your statement,” he said simply. “You are aware of the human-like components integrated into my design. Your fixation suggests a desire to understand their functionality.”

Your breath hitched. The words functionality and components should have grounded you. It should have made this situation feel as clinical as he seemed to think it was. But instead, they only fueled the heat already curling in your stomach.

Because Svarog was right.

You wanted to know—Aeons, you’ve been dying to know—how far his human design extended. And now that the repairs were done, now that he’d laid the truth bare, it felt impossible to stop.

“You are not the first to display interest in this feature,” Svarog continued, as though he were listing out schematics. “However, prior inquiries did not progress past verbal questioning. You are demonstrating physical tension indicative of deeper investigation.”

Your throat felt dryer than the desert.

“I propose a solution,” Svarog said, tilting his head slightly. “Controlled exploration. Further data on synthetic anatomy is limited. Your curiosity provides an opportunity for analysis and documentation.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He wasn’t joking. He couldn’t joke.

“You are suggesting we… test this?”

“Correct.”

His lack of hesitation made your pulse stutter. He saw this as a logical step, nothing more than a means to gather data, and yet, the way his frame loomed over you, the hum of his systems almost vibrating through the air, felt anything but detached.

“Decision required,” Svarog said after a beat. “Proceed with testing, or terminate this interaction?”

Your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up.

“Proceed,” you said softly.

His optics flared slightly—almost imperceptibly—before he nodded.

“Acknowledged. Experiment initiated.”

Svarog wasn’t designed to rush.

He worked methodically, his plated fingers tracing along your thighs—testing, measuring, pressing into the soft flesh as though assessing the tensile strength of your muscles. Assessing how much you could take.

“Body temperature elevated by 1.8 degrees,” he noted, his optics narrowing slightly. “Pulse irregular. Predictive analysis suggests heightened arousal.”

You whimpered as his thick mechanical fingers dipped lower, sliding between your legs without hesitation. He brushed against your heat, deliberately testing the slickness already building there.

“Lubrication present,” he said. “Preliminary preparation observed. Additional stimulation required.”

You barely had any time to register his words before his thumb pressed against your clit. The motion was slow, deliberate, grinding down just enough to make your thighs tremble.

Too much.

The smoothness of his plating, the slight hum of his servos adjusting with every movement, left you aching almost instantly. He applied more pressure, adjusting the angle like he was calibrating the motion for maximum effect.

You gasped, hips jerking against him instinctively, and Svarog’s optics dimmed.

“Response strength at 63 percent,” he observed. “Testing deeper penetration.”

You bit back a cry as his fingers slipped inside. Thick, unyielding, and cool against your heat. He stretched you slowly, adding another finger almost immediately, pushing past the tight resistance with clinical focus.

“Muscle tension detected,” he said, his thumb circling the erect pearl of your clit again as his fingers curled inside of you. “Adjusting pressure.”

You whimpered as he spread his fingers, stretching you wider until the ache blurred into something hotter, sharper.

“Elasticity improving,” he noted, tilting his head as he pressed deeper. “Lubrication increased by 24 percent.”

You clenched around him, your gummy walls struggling to accommodate the deliberate stretch, and Svarog’s optics flickered.

“Resistance still measurable,” he said, slowing his movements. “Further preparation required.”

Your head was spinning by the time he added a third finger, the burn almost too much, but Svarog didn’t falter. His fingers moved with precise rhythm, pumping and curling until the tension broke, and your body melted around him.

Svarog’s mechanical fingers lingered inside you, coated in slickness as he worked them deeper—pressing, stretching, curling with deliberate precision. His thumb dragged slow, circular patterns over your clit, the rhythm steady enough to make your hips jolt against him in a helpless, uncontrollable reaction.

“Muscle tension improving,” he observed. “Current dilation at 73 percent. Additional preparation recommended.”

His tone was calm, detached, but the way his optics dimmed as he watched your thighs trembling betrayed something deeper. He pressed in further, adding another finger. Thicker. Unyielding. Enough to force a sharp gasp to tumble out of your throat.

The burn was too much and not enough all at once, your body clenching down against the stretch even as your legs fell further apart under his firm grip.

You could feel yourself dripping, already struggling to take his fingers, but Svarog didn’t falter. He spread them wider, deliberately testing your limits, and the ache left you clawing at his arm, nails scraping helplessly against smooth plating.

“Elasticity increased by 18 percent,” he said, pulling his fingers free with a lewd, wet squelch that made your breath hitch and your cheeks burn. He inspected the slick coating his fingers before tilting his head slightly. “Sufficient for insertion.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before you heard the sound of fabric rustling. Your eyes widened as he was lining up, the thick, mechanical weight of his massive cock pressing against your sopping entrance and making your stomach twist with a sharp mix of anticipation and fear. His cock contrasted the rest of his metallic body, covered by a synthetic material that seemed to emulate the sensation of skin.

“Size differential detected,” Svarog noted, palming your thigh to angle your hips upward. “Accommodating size will result in initial resistance.”

You bit back a cry as he pushed forward, the broad, blunted tip spreading you open with agonizing slowness. The pain is sharp, your walls pulsing and struggling to accommodate him even after the preparation.

Too big.

The words barely formed in your mind before the pressure stole the thought away entirely. You gasped sharply, arching as he forced himself deeper, the stretch too much. Burning, tearing, making your legs shake uncontrollably.

Svarog’s grip on your hips tightened as he paused, allowing you a brief moment of reprieve to adjust, but as his optics flickered, scanning the trembling of your muscles and the fluttering of your gummy walls around him.

“Pain response detected. Estimating threshold at 62 percent.”

You cried out as his hands tilted your hips. You were barely able to breathe as he pressed further, the new angle forcing him deeper into your cunt, and your stomach twisted as you felt it. His cock bullied its way in, the meaty girth of his shaft forcing you wider and wider until you swore you could feel it pressing against everything, imprinting his shape inside of you.

Too much. Too deep.

Tears welled in your eyes as your body struggled to take him, your hands scrabbling against his frame, fingers digging uselessly into unmoving steel.

Svarog’s hand pressed against your stomach, his thumb grazing the prominent bulge already forming there.

“Internal displacement observed,” he said, pushing down slightly to feel the way his massive cock shifted inside of you. The sensation earned a quiver of your legs, the pressure in between your legs rendering you unable to utter a coherent sentence. “Pressure response increasing. Adapting angle.”

Your head fell back with a guttural cry as he adjusted, pressing even deeper, his thumb brushing over the bulge experimentally while he thrust deeper, the bulge in your stomach shifting with him. It felt like the wind was knocked out of your lungs. Your lips fell open in a silent cry, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your body clenched down hard, pulsing and fluttering, struggling against the size, and Svarog stilled.

“Involuntary constriction detected,” he said, his optics dimming slightly.

His free hand reached up, spreading your thighs wider, and he began to move.

Slow, deliberate thrusts that forced you to feel every excruciating inch of him.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

All you could do was feel. The stretch, the ache, the grinding pressure of him bottoming out inside you again and again and again. The bulge in your stomach shifted with every thrust, a visible reminder of just how deep he was, how much he was filling you.

Svarog’s optics glowed faintly as he observed you, his gaze calculating and unwavering as your body trembled beneath him. Each shallow breath you took, each gasp for air as his cock pressed deeper, he noted, analyzing the involuntary way your body gripped him, how your muscles fluttered around him with every thrust.

“Heart rate accelerating. Muscular tension increasing. Increased stimulation evident.”

He could see the way your body reacted. How your hands clenched, how your thighs shook, how the bulge in your stomach shifted with each deep push, marking the extent to which he had filled you. He watched the way your chest heaved, the way your pupils dilated with every inch of him that stretched you wider, deeper, further than you ever thought possible.

You were on the brink of breaking, the tension in your body growing unbearable as your mouth opened in a silent scream, unable to keep up with the onslaught of sensations. Your body, desperate for more and yet unable to fully handle what was happening, was his to command, and he couldn’t help but watch in quiet fascination as you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure.

You were becoming dumber. So much of you just couldn’t function anymore. You were speechless, unable to utter a coherent sentence, broken down by the intensity of his cock fucking its way into you, and the way you melted against him was nothing short of fascinating. Your voice was lost to you, your thoughts clouded by raw sensation, but the pleasure you felt was clear. It was painted across every quiver of your body, the sheen of beaded sweat lining your face and neck, in the strained arch of your back, the desperate shuddering of your limbs.

He could hear the soft whimpering sounds, could see the way your face twisted with both pain and pleasure, and his own systems hummed with the data flooding his internal logs. Every reaction of yours was so genuine, so untouched by reason. It was an anomaly he had never experienced.

Svarog’s mechanical frame moved with precision, his movements controlled and deliberate. His systems hummed as he observed you, his optics tracking every microexpression, every shuddering breath as you struggled to adjust to the overwhelming size that filled you.

He didn’t feel pleasure. He didn’t need it, not the way you did. But the reactions you were giving him—the way your body trembled, the way your walls spasmed around him—were intriguing, data points he had yet to fully understand.

“Subject’s body reacting to size discrepancy. Estimated stretch threshold surpassed.”

Your hands were clutching at him, your fingers slipping over his cool metal plating, desperately trying to find purchase. Your tight walls clung to him as though your body was doing everything it could to resist the sensation, even though it was now obvious that you couldn’t fight it. Your body was becoming swallowed by him, opening wide to accommodate what it was never meant to handle.

Svarog’s movement’s never faltered, his thrusts measured and precise, studying you as your body began to react involuntarily. Your walls spasmed around him, tighter and tighter, almost as though your body was trying to pull him deeper despite the overwhelming stretch.

“Subject’s body is exhibiting signs of imminent climax. Response timing has been measured.”

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. Your entire body stiffed, an involuntary shudder running through you as every nerve seemed to light up at once. Your vision blurred, the sounds of your ragged breathing filling your ears, mixing with the overwhelming sensation of being stretched beyond belief. Your walls contracted and released rapidly, the pressure inside you finally exploding, and you cried out his name, the world barely a whisper between gasps.

The release sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and Svarog could see it. How your body trembled, how your legs locked around his waist, pulling him even deeper—if that was even possible. You were speechless, your mind blank as your body convulsed in ecstasy, your insides gripping him with a tightness that was almost painful.

“Subject has achieved climax. Response exceeds expectations.”

Your breaths came in desperate, uncoordinated gasps as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, and your body was left quivering, unable to do anything but absorb the aftershocks of your mind-numbing release. Your thighs quivered, feeling your cum trickling down your skin, staining his metal plating.

Svarog, ever the observer, did not stop. He noted the way your body reacted to each of his thrusts, the way your tummy bulged with each movement, the way your warm walls clamped down involuntarily as you tried to regain control of your senses.

Despite the fact that Svarog himself could not feel pleasure, there was something undeniably fascinating about the way you came undone beneath him, your body fighting for control even as it surrendered entirely to him.

He continued moving inside you, his mechanical precision relentless, watching as you flinched with each motion, your body too sensitive now to handle it. Your hands, still pawing weakly at his arms, combined with your whimpered protests of it being too much, were growing weaker, and the sensations were too much for you to bear, but still, he kept going, his own curiosity driving him. He wanted to see how much more you could take, how much more your body could endure before it reached its limit.

You were still trembling, still catching your breath, your mind scattered and lost in the aftereffects of your climax. He could see your skin shimmering with sweat, your breasts rising and falling, the way your hips thrusted up to meet his even though you were lost in the throes of overstimulation.

“Subject remains responsive despite signs of fatigue,” he observed. “Data indicates further analysis needed.”

You were so tight, so overstimulated, and yet your body responded again as though it couldn’t stop itself. Another surge of pleasure crashed through you, pulling another, more broken moan from your lips. It was overwhelming, too much, but your body needed it, responding in ways that only deepened his analysis of the situation.

Svarog’s focus didn’t waver. He watched as your body shook with every movement, your legs quivering with the strain of accommodating him, and still, he continued, his thrusts growing deeper, more relentless. His fingers dug into your hips, hard enough to leave litters of bruises that resembled the shade of his metal plating, holding you in place, using your body as a tool for his data collection.

He could see the way you reacted to the sensations, your face contorting in a combination of pain and pleasure, your eyes wide and unfocused, the way your mouth parted as though you couldn’t form any coherent words. Your body had become nothing but a series of responses, unable to control the way you moved or how you moaned, each sound increasing in volume and intensity as he continued to jackhammer into you.

Your stomach bulged from the pressure, each thrust deepening the curve, showing just how much of him you were struggling to take. Your body was so small, so delicate compared to his design—a machine of war—and yet it was somehow adjusting, somehow taking him all the way in, and with each inch he could see your entire body shift, your muscles trembling, walls contracting and clenching around him.

Svarog observed with detachment, but a small part of him couldn’t ignore how your body seemed to respond, how the very tightness of your searingly hot walls seemed to tug at him, pull him deeper as though it wanted to trap him there—needed him to stay there. The way you trembled beneath him, struggling to remain grounded as your body was filled with something so vast compared to your form. He noted how your skin glistened, how you arch your back, trying to take more of him, trying your damned best to accommodate his size.

Svarog noted how you were losing coherence, your once-clear expression now a mess of uncontrollable need, your eyes glazing over as you gave in to the rhythm he set. He couldn’t deny the way your body seemed to yearn for more, even as you struggled with the sheer size of him.

The final stretch was the worst for you, and the best for him. He felt your body grip him, squeezing him impossibly tight as he buried himself to the hilt. This earned a strained sob from your lips. Your stomach bulged more than ever before, a visual testament to just how much of him you had taken, how far he had pushed you. He could see your body tremble, your limbs shaking, your quivering lips gasping for breath.

Yet, even as your body was on the edge, unraveling beneath him, Svarog did not stop. The data was still incomplete. He needed more. He needed to see how much you could endure, how much pleasure your body could take from the sheer act of him pounding into you.

And so, he continued, calculating the rhythms, watching as you came again with a scream of his name, your body seizing, the loud moan that escaped your lips barely audible over the overwhelming noise in your head. It was the most raw, vulnerable he had ever seen you—or any human—and it only fascinated him more.

With another deep thrust, you shuddered, and this time, Svarog could see your body collapse against the surface beneath you, completely undone. You were breathless, barely coherent, your limbs shaking as the final waves of pleasure raked through your senses.

Svarog paused, his cool hands steadying your trembling body, allowing you to come down from the dizzying high. He could continue for as long as he wanted, but your body was too spent for further testing. He could still see the evidence of your come, dripping down in translucent milky strings to the surface beneath you, painting your inner thighs. Svarog decided that this must be what humans described as “beautiful.”

“Conclusion: Subject’s tolerance to size discrepancy has surpassed previous estimates. Data collection complete.”

[authorddreamz]

More Than Words Left Between Us -Deshon Dreamz

Yes, I'm a writer, but this is my very first fanfic! I just love Annie down and I want to write about HER. What comes with Annie...SMOKE.

This is a Wunmi stan account.

Smoke x Annie #OneShot

Warnings: Child Loss, Smut, Explicits, Adult 18+, Fan Fic, Errors

Annie's shop Scene Modern Day Revision

Smoke returns to visit his daughter and Annie but Annie had a visitor(a man).

If you asked to be tagged, I don't know how 😂😂 I'm new to Tumblr!

This song was on a loop as I wrote this!

WC: 2.6K

More Than Words Left Between Us

Smoke X Annie #Sinners

Warning: Smut, Cursing, mentions of miscarriage

The gravel beneath his tires caused his truck to rock slightly as he slowly pulled onto the property. His heart raced in anticipation and…fear. He'd been beaten by the most undefeated concept to ever exist. Time. He wondered if too much of it had passed, preventing the remedy for his pain from becoming a reality.

He needed her.

She was the only balm he knew.

Fear crippled him as he slowly allowed his truck to come to a rolling stop. His feet felt cemented to the floor of his truck as he took in a calming breath. His hand moved to the handle of the door, stalling as he attempted to mentally go over the words he would say to her.

His lips lacked communication; there was no way they would properly relay the inner dialogue of his heart. The door of the truck felt weighed. He struggled, his body too emotionally fragile to complete the task he carried out with ease multiple times a day. His eyes lifted to the rebuilt structure sitting solo in the middle of the wooded area. Anyone in their right mind would be cautious of the area, staying away. Smoke on the other hand, felt at home.

Chicago had done a number on him, both mentally and physically. The weight in his shoulders caused tension in his back, the crisp air of the night slapped him viciously as he climbed from the truck. His frame felt stoic, robotic even. He moved with the stature of a man pained by years of separation from his love.

On top of the many emotions he felt regarding his love, grief was also an invisible anchor. His body moved on autopilot as he walked over to the small gravesite nestled in the back of the house. He clutched the white daisy’s in his right hand, as he came to a stop.

A small headstone, so prematurely manufactured for his child loss too soon. His heart grew heavier as he kneeled, using his hand to sweep away the dust and leaves that had fallen, obstructing the name of his daughter.

“Papa’s here.” He muttered, tears brimming around his eyes as he continued to silently mourn. “Papa’s here.” He tried again, more determined this time.

He stayed in his squatted position for a moment longer, placing the flowers on top of the tombstone before he stood, exhaling as he did so. His face was set in a stoned expression as he reached into his pocket, looking back at his truck before he hit the lock button.

His hand stilled in the air, brows touching as his eyes landed on a white Hemi truck sitting not too far away from where he parked.

Has that been there? He questioned internally. “The fuck?” He groaned out loud before his feet automatically began marching towards the front of the house. Before he could lift his hand to knock, the door was snatched open.

Just like the first time he laid eyes on her, the beauty she possessed rendered him speechless. His breath caught in his throat as Annie stood before him, looking like something his brain had imagined. Her smooth dark skin glistened under the Mississippi moon as she stepped out of the house, forcing him backwards. Her eyes held onto his for a moment before she spoke.

“What…Smoke?”

He blinked. “Who’s truck is that?”

Her face shifted. Annie struggled with the fact that he was standing in front of her. So long he'd been a figment of her imagination. She felt her heart trip in her chest; refreshed love and old wombs reopening at the sight of him. So many unspoken words between them and he was asking about a truck? “You've been gone seven years and that's your first statement to me??” Her nostrils flared, doe eyes somehow rounded twice their size.

Immediately, he had to acknowledge just how good time had been for her. She was stunning, always stunning. Tall, thicker than day old grits and as fiery as any woman had the right to be. Smoke felt like not a day had passed between them.

She was and still is…his one true love.

Smoke found himself trying to recover. “Well, how ya been?”

Annie crossed her arms over her chest protectively, feeling her defenses slowly be disarmed by his handsome ruggedness. Elijah "Smoke” Moore was the love of her life, the father of her loss child and in so many ways, her reason for being. “I won't complain. Ain't gone help none.” She exhaled slowly. “Are you here alone?”

Smoke nodded. “Yeah! Stack in town handling business.” He answered, giving the whereabouts of his twin brother.

“Well, whatchu come back fo?”

Smoke fidgeted with his hat, instantly feeling unsettled under Annie’s almost telepathic gaze. “Opening up a club close to downtown, wanting you with me tonight.”

“A club.” Annie’s chin dropped. “That sounds like a Stack idea.”

“Just tryna go legit.”

“Y'all couldn't open this club in Chicago? Last I heard y'all were northern men.”

“Nah. We done in Chicago.”

“Chicago done with y'all?”

Smoke squinted. “What you asking?”

“What you running from now, Smoke?”

Smoke was a trained warrior, tested in battle fields that claimed the lives of the strongest of men. Yet, in front of her, he was merely a man. One incapable of getting a lie past her. He knew she would see through any lie he told, so he ignored her question, posing one of his own. “You gone tell me who’s truck that is?”

“That'll be my truck.” A man he wasn't familiar with came from around the side of the house, limbs and twigs from an oversized tree that hung over the side of the house, tucked under his arms. His smile didn't quite reach the level needed to be friendly as he dropped the twigs in a stack with others. Smoke immediately frowned, silently looking between the man and Annie. “It ain't for sale, if that's whatchu askin’.”

“Oh no.” Annie groaned under her breath before stepping down off the porch.

Smoke’s head tilted slightly, eyes hard. “Look like I'm here to buy a truck, mothafucka?”

Annie placed her body in front of Smoke, turning to her company. “Jason, this is Elijah…my ex.”

“Ex?” Smoke repeated, eyes cast down before they shot to her. “Since the fuck when?”

Annie turned to him. “Since you left and decided to stay away.”

Smoke glared at her; his anger not exactly directed at her. “Yeah well, we back now so you can tell ya lil boyfriend he can wrap this shit up. I no longer need a stand in; the original is back.”

“Stand in?” Jason questioned with a low chuckle.

“You heard me.” Smoke muttered, his dark features set in an intense scowl. “I ain't gone say that shit again. Ya times up.”

Jason’s eyes hit Annie, silently asking her what she wanted him to do. “Can I call you later?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed before they went back to Smoke. His eyes remained on Smoke as he answered. “You sure can.”

“What exactly would you be calling him to talk about?" Smoke questioned, his eyes hard on Annie.

“Seems like that’s something we gone discover when that call happens, now doesn’t it.” Jason's smirk grew at the pure rage in Smoke's expression.

Smoke’s patience was nonexistent. He also didn’t take kindly to disrespect.

As Jason continued to smirk at him, Smoke reached behind him, producing a .45 and pointing at Jason who immediately froze in place. Smoke enjoyed the expression of fear covering his face before he lowered the gun, shooting him in his foot.

Jason immediately screamed, falling to the ground. “Mothafucka, you shot me!”

“Next one going between ya eyes.” Smoke groaned, unfazed. “Now get up, go to that ugly ass truck and don’t come back this way no mo.”

“Elijah!” Annie screeched.

Smoke continued to mug Jason as he cried on the ground, holding his foot. “Gone tell him the truth, baby. Let him know you won't be calling.”

“Are you insane?!”

“Tell him!” He urged through clenched teeth. “Go head.”

Annie didn't speak, instead she continued to glare at Smoke before she turned to walk back into the house.

“Act like you know who I am and move accordingly.” Smoke kept his gun trained on Larry who was finally able to get to his feet and began hobbling away. “Come back here and you die.” He lowered the gun, kissing his teeth. He mugged him one last time before following Annie into the house.

Annie was livid. This was a level of audacity only Smoke could have. As she walked deeper into her home, she could feel him following her. She was torn, now she didn't know what she wanted to address first; him being back after leaving her for all those years or him running Jason off when he had no right to do so.

“I've been telling you to let me cut that tree down for years, Annie.” Smoke removed his hat, placing it on the island in her kitchen before he continued through the living room, into her bedroom where she stood, visibly upset. He steps slowed, eyes softening at once at her expression. Pissing her off was the last thing he wanted to do. “Wouldn't have no issue with twigs then.”

“You come in here talking about a tree when you just shot him?”

Smoke looked to the side, eyes low. “Ya boyfriend gone live.”

“The fucking nerve of you.” Annie couldn’t contain her anger; she wanted to hit him.

“About the tree.” Smoke changed the subject, wanting to move on. “How long you been having him come pick up the twigs?”

Annie’s head fell to the side slightly. “You expect me to let them pile up waiting on you?”

“It's folks you can call to have them removed, having some random…”

“He ain't random!” Annie snapped. “He been round here for years.” Her brow lifted stubbornly, ready for whatever verbal tussle Smoke wanted to have. She didn't care. Her pain wouldn't allow her to spare his feelings.

“Years?” His voice was low, dripped in a southern drawl only the Delta of Mississippi could provide. All those years away, and it hadn't faded at all. “Whatcha mean by years?”

“You would know if you were here.” Annie walked around her bed, getting into his face. “Years.” She dragged, emphasizing the s. “Them twigs ain't the only thing he's been tending to neither, Smoke.”

“You fuckin’ him?” Smoke felt like his chest would explode. Fresh heat spread through his body, starting at the soles of his feet. The thought of someone else touching her made him nauseous. “Annie…”

"Why would it matter to you who...I...fuck?" She dragged. "Huh?"

Smoke felt immediate regret for not killing ole boy. "You know he's as good as dead, right?"

"Oh, that's rich." She snapped. "Should I get my blade ready for the trail of bitches I'm sure you left in Chicago?"

Smoke's nostrils flared again. Anger consumed him again. "Annie, did you fuck..."

“Never sex.” She replied, wanting to exaggerate the truth but not wanting to put Jason in any more danger. They'd never been intimate. “The furthest we've gone is a drunk kiss we shared one of the nights I spent crying on his shoulder about you.”

Smoke’s trained expression didn't change, though hearing about her pain made him feel weak. “Look…”

Tears rimmed her eyes as she stepped back from him. The sight made Smoke’s heart skip a beat, his words tripping to an abrupt stop as he looked at her. He stood there, suspended in time like Annie felt she'd been all these years.

“I've spent 7 whole years processing by myself. I've had to grieve our child alone. I've had to grieve the love we shared, not knowing if I would ever feel it again. I've spent every single day praying for you and Stack. Now you right back in front of me, perfectly whole and asking me about a man who could never replace you in my heart.” She shook her head as the first tear slipped. She swiftly wiped it away, disappointed in herself for even allowing it to fall. “You're a fool, Elijah Moore.”

Smoke, never the talker, continued looking at her. “I am a fool.”

Annie looked up at him. “Why are you here?”

Smoke stepped into her, thankful she didn't step back. “I'm man enough to say it.”

“Then say it.” She urged.

Smoke continued to stare down at her, holding her eyes. “I was a coward, Annie. I ran. I left you and I ran to Chicago to avoid the pain of losing our child. I was wrong for leaving you here to deal with that alone. I also shouldn’t make you feel bad about whatever you did to cope.” He stepped closer to her, grabbing her face. “I want you to understand that I know what I did wrong and I’m here because I want to fix it. I…I need to fix it Annie because I love you…and I’ve missed you.”

Annie stood there, unsure of what to say to him. Her heart felt split between defense and dropping all guards to him. Mentally, she was scared of what would happen if she exposed herself to him too soon. So, she allowed her heart and brain time to settle their dispute while her body yielded to him.

She would check back in with her emotions later. Right now, she craved him in a way she never craved another man. She closed the distance between them, looking up at him as his hard eyes remained on her. Without reserve, she reached up to grab the back of his head, pulling his lips to hers. Smoke felt his world rock of it’s axis as his lips touched hers. Years of pain evaporated from him as he reached, grabbing her to pull her into his chest. He groaned as her tongue slipped into his mouth, creating complete silence in his overactive brain. He reached down, grabbing as much of her ass his hands would allow before lifting her into his arms. Annie yelped, scared momentarily that Smoke would drop her. She was a lot more than skin and bones, but that wasn’t something Smoke didn’t know. She exhaled into his mouth as he effortlessly maneuvered her onto the bed, forcing her back. He climbed on top of her, returning his mouth to hers. His eager hands reached for the nightgown she wore, ripping it in his pursuit to get it off her body. Annie’s pants grew wilder as his hands found their way to her breast as they spill from her gown. Smoke moved with the precision of a starving man as he cupped her breast, sending his tongue over her large mahogany nipples. Smoke lifted, removing his vest from his body before going for his shirt. Annie began to assist him, feeling she couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough. Once he was down to his slacks, he moved back between her legs, settling between them as his hand reached between her legs. Once he felt her clit, then dipped his fingers lower, he was met with her wetness. He exhaled, feeling overwhelmed by the discovery.

“You get this wet for him, Annie?”

She shook her head, feeling anxious. “No.”

Smoke continued to slide his fingers over her clit, making her wetter before he removed his fingers from her, slipping them into his mouth. Annie watched through hooded eyes as he licked each finger slowly. When he was done, he kissed her again, grabbing his dick to place it at her entrance. Slowly, he returned home. Smoke was flooded with instant pleasure as Annie gripped his arms, keeping him close to her. He lifted her legs, pushing them back as he went deeper into her, wanting to relay every word his mouth failed to speak. She was his. Forever and always. No amount of time or space would ever change that. Annie felt consumed with raw pleasure only Smoke could summon within her. The feel of his dick stretching her was the most beautiful mixture of pleasure and pain and she accepted him. As flawed and tormented as he was, she accepted him.

The End.

Thank you for reading!

[bennyden]

User hamatoanne's fic plagiarism

Hello, I’m the author of The Android, an AO3 Robot OC x Reader fic that was plagiarized by hamatoanne on Tumblr in her Aemond x Reader story, System Error. You can read my AO3 post for more info about the issue. As you can tell by the timestamps on AO3 and the screenshots of her now-deleted story, mine was posted months before hers. I didn’t want to make this public, but it appears Anne has not learned her lesson and is grasping at straws to keep her readers in the dark. She’s been deleting her stories to hide evidence of her plagiarism. I think you deserve to know who your beloved writer gets her words from.

I don’t know this fandom, but I’ve heard you guys can get pretty crazy. Control yourselves. The only one who needs to take responsibility is Anne. Don’t send hate to her mutuals. Don’t send hate to her followers. Don’t stalk or harass or dox anyone. Read through this post and form your opinion.

First bunch of screenshots: A side-by-side comparison of her story (now deleted) and mine (still up and linked above). I took screenshots in advance in case something like this happened so I’d have proof if I needed it. I decided to compare the first chapter of my fic with the first part of hers. I could do the whole thing, but I’m a busy college student and I think just a quick skim of the pictures below is enough for people to see the extent of her plagiarism. 

I have screenshots of her entire post, but I don’t want to make this too long to scroll through and Tumblr posts cap at 30 pictures. I’m assuming some of you have already read her story multiple times, so you’re familiar with the words. If you haven’t, then I should warn you that the fic that she plagiarized is very not SFW. I’ll let you know where the not SFW content starts so you can skip it. 

On the left is my story. On the right is what Anne posted (and took down).

Not SFW content starts here. 

Not SFW content over.

Finally, I DM’ed her. This was just before I posted to The Android on AO3 about the situation. To summarize, I wrote about how I would go about the situation and how hurt I was about a bigger creator stealing from me. I admit, I was too kind and too much of a pushover. I just wanted things to go quietly. She later replied with this and deleted her fic immediately. 

“I was completely stupid for not giving your credit” Why do they always play dumb? You copy that much and can’t even think to put my name there? You credit the artist but not the person who basically wrote your whole story? The story that gave you over 3k notes, so much more clout than any of your other stories has earned you? Total BS.

“I had every intention of giving credit where it was due…But I forgot” Right. Sure. Of course. If she felt guilty about plagiarizing, she would not be so shameless to accept praise like she did. I have examples of where she happily thanked people for complimenting "her work”, but didn’t want to bring other blogs into this, especially since they were none the wiser to her plagiarism. Ironically enough, someone even gifted her a badge for being a good writer the day she replied to my DM. She tagged that post “#a breath of fresh air on a horrible day”. I wonder why her day was horrible. Whoever gifted her that badge deserves their money back.

My thoughts when approaching her DMs were:

If she wants to keep up the story? Fine, just edit the post to say that it was heavily influenced by my story and leave a link to the original. I don’t mind. The readers will see that, click my story, compare the two, and think, “Hey, that’s not just inspiration! She plagiarized!” and her downfall would start from there without me having to do anything.

If she ignored me and didn’t fulfill that request, i would take matters into my own hands and expose her on her own post. Even more damaging.

In the end, she chose to delete the post entirely, getting rid of the evidence and her clout. I actually didn’t expect this outcome since I thought she’d like the clout too much, but I guess she decided this route would be the least damaging to her reputation. Everything was swept under the rug for now. 

And like a fool, I said thanks and went on with my life. But I decided to keep track of her. Because while I was too cowardly to do anything, I knew there would always be someone in the crowd who would take action. And it seems like people did. 

After reading the supportive comments from readers of my fic, I started to regret how lightly I handled it. I wanted to be mature even though I wanted her entire blog to fall and her reputation taken away. But I didn’t want to be a “bad person”. I wondered if I should keep pursuing the issue. I realized that my overly-people-pleasing behavior might lead her to continue her ways. I decided to speak out because others might’ve had their works taken by her and that my silence wasn’t helping. 

Next is her post, now deleted (I wonder why), about how she’s been so sad and how she’s going to be deleting her old stories and starting over. I’m likely not the only one she’s plagiarized from if she’s deleting other stories. At the time, I only saw supportive replies and reblogs on it, but maybe she deleted it after people started calling her out? Idk.

She’s playing the victim game pretty hard. Acting as a kind underdog even though she’s the big creator who stole from a nobody like me. I know I said on my AO3 update that people shouldn’t send hate to her (and even censored her name after she deleted her story) but I guess I’m a little happy that people sought to call her out on her shit. I wish I was as brave. 

Later, a nice person (we’ll call her Bob because she asked to remain anonymous) DM’ed me directly with a kind message. After seeing this, I decided I should take action and expose all of this since Anne obviously hasn’t learned and wants to keep it all hidden. Bob confirmed that I’m not the only victim of Anne’s plagiarism either.

Bob asked that I not use screenshots of our DM’s so here is a transcription of the important parts:

“Hey! I just found out that one of your fics had been plagiarized by someone in the HOTD community. First of all, I am tremendously sorry that happened…”

(For Bob’s privacy, I won’t explain her relation to Anne. Just know that Anne has refused to message her back).

“I definitely think you should make a blog post. with side by side comparison. I am still completely gobsmacked that she pilfered your entire story word for word and changed a few things. We found evidence that she had plagiarized multiple stories. Not just yours. We found out her mermaid!aemond fic was entirely stolen as well as a few others. She has quietly deleted them and hasn't spoken on them since.”

“We surmised that she takes ‘underrated’ fics from different fandoms and changes the name and that's it. It's almost like she believed that stealing from other fandoms was going to draw less attention than stealing directly from the HOTD fandom.”

So if you noticed that one of your favorite Aemond fics is gone, now you know why.

‘But benny, she still wrote her own sentences and just changed it around to fit aemond!’

Fanfiction is transformative. You know what the source material is and who created it. You know you’re not reading a copied and pasted text with maybe some words and sentences switched around. This wasn’t fanfic. According to Google, plagiarism is defined as, “the practice of taking someone else's work or ideas and passing them off as one's own.” (See what I did there? I credited Google. Is it so hard to give credit where credit is due?) She copied people's work, didn't give credit to the source material, and claimed it as her own. That's plagiarism.

I wouldn’t have had a problem if she properly credited me and linked the original story. I wouldn’t have had a problem if she didn’t blatantly copy and paste the entire text and premise. I wouldn’t even require getting permission to write a story based on my fic if she had satisfied those conditions.

She’s a 27-year-old grown-ass woman with enough free time to simp over some blond guy with an eyepatch. I’m a 21-year-old college student who only posts fics during the summer and winter because that’s when school’s on break. I’m too busy writing lab reports and essays to be an active writer online. The fact that she can disrespect smaller writers so tremendously should not be acceptable. The fact that she also deceived her devoted readers and friends about her "works" is also unacceptable.

What can you do about this? To be honest, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had to deal with this before. I want to be a good person and say, “Don’t send any hate to Anne, don’t harass her. Just unfollow her and stop supporting her.” But that obviously hasn’t taught her anything. She’ll just make a half-assed apology, maybe go on hiatus, maybe disappear, and then pop up again under another name to steal from another creator. If you have any ideas on how to deal with this, please tell us. 

She can try to block me or delete her posts, but the evidence is out and the damage is done. Anything she does to hide this mess will only make it worse for her. I’d appreciate people bringing more awareness to this issue, especially if it can reach the eyes of others she’s taken from. 

Thanks for reading.

[rabotimagines]

Okay I'm not sure if my previous two asks sent (if they did I'm so sorry just ignore the dupes, error pop ups keep showing for me so I'm just not sure anymore 😭😭)

I just wanted to say how much I love your writing, it's genuinely so scrumptious 😋

I'm so excited to read your newest piece when I have the time. Thank you for feeding us!! <3 Have a good day :D 🫶💜

I didn't get either of the first two asks lolololol so thank you so much for sending the third one I actually got!

I've actually been feeling discouraged about bothering to edit and post my stuff since so many people just like them silently without much else. Yeah, I do like writing these silly robots but the effort to make it coherent, editing and junk can feel a little redundant when it feels like almost no ones actually enjoying them. More people need to interact with artists on Social media- I'd say just Tumblr but it seems to be a general problem now a days. I was guilty of this too actually but I've recently taken to breaking that habit via commenting when I can and rbing.

If you like reading/consuming x Reader stuff reblog it and put even an emoji in the tags or something! Make a side account for it if you don't want it on main. I'm absolutely not just talking about myself here either! Go show the other Transformers x Reader creators some appreciation! It helps us create more and do it more enthusiastically.

So again tysm for taking the few minutes to send your appreciation nonnie 🩷 (Also thanks to the few other nonnies who have done the same!)

[siconetribal]

Put it on My Tab (18)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Warning:

Things as they should have been

A/N:

Thanks for patiently waiting! I had a safe and easy flight, but the jet lag was a real troublemaker. But now I'm back, less brain foggy and ready to type. Without further ado, here is the next part!

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! I'd also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

As always, a huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

Another day, another round of unreasonable customers not paying attention to the orders that are being called, and another coffee order from the caffeine fiend who has been showing up almost daily. The handsome young man caused quite the stir with the female employees, each rushing to be the one to take his order, only to be rejected. There was only one person he ordered from, and the one barista was Y/N. She did not know why or when this little routine started, but it was well known throughout the shifts. One customer came in on days only Y/N was in and only ever ordered from her. The idea would have been flattering if his level of consumption was not so concerning, and him obviously being younger than her and well off.

And he’s another Wayne. I think I’ve officially had it with Waynes. She let out a heavy sigh as she rang up her current customer. How long had it been since she last saw Jason? She wondered for the seventh time, looking at the digital date on the register. That awkwardly magical night to end it all was now two weeks behind her and not a single word from him. To be fair, I haven’t exactly reached out either, but what am I supposed to even say? I didn’t exactly ask him for pocket change, and he paid for dinner and made sure I was inside the building safe. Could he have just not been so great so that I could continue to hate him for some reason and move on with my life? It’s all his fault, clearly! She grabbed a cup, stuck on the label, and placed it in the queue before moving onto the next customer. 

Citlalli heard her sigh again and visibly frowned. The night Y/N came back with the money was a shock. The two of them stared at her phone and refreshed the app screen several times, expecting it to all vanish like it was some sort of glitch and error. Come the next day, it was still very much there, which meant they were now debt free. They refused to celebrate just yet. Y/N transferred the money to her bank, it cleared in a few days. Y/N called the hotel and paid the rest of the charges over the phone. The hotel register must have been ancient because it felt like forever until the little ding sounded to let everyone know the transaction was completed. A copy of the receipt was emailed and with that, it was done. Seeing the bill as paid in full was such a sight to behold that Citlalli even began to tear up. They were back to where they were before the coffee fiasco, which was far better than being behind. 

Everything was back to as it should be, or it should have been. Y/N was different. She was more relaxed now that she could drop a good number of shifts and others could cover, but there was a listlessness to her. Her motions were robotic, and she barely reacted to crazy customers who were prone to yelling or causing a scene. If anything, her lack of reaction made the tantrum thrower feel awkward, and they quietly just moved along. Maybe it was an adrenaline crash? A constant flight or fight mode was finally shut off and her body was simply trying to recover. The last time she had seen her like this was the time her cousin got them tangled with the Penguin. Citlalli was no better, the two did what needed to be done to keep the bills paid and their heads on their shoulders. 

“Oi, chica, I’ve been calling your name for the last ten minutes!” She snapped her fingers in front of Y/N’s face. “Are you going to give me an answer or what?!”

“Huh, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” She jerked her head back as the sharp sound brought her senses back into focus. The long day of work had come to an end and neither of the two were on the night shift, so they returned home and began to relax and unwind. “Answer what?”

“Where did you get these and when were you going to tell me?!” She firmly tapped her finger on two identical rectangular pieces of paper that magically appeared on the coffee table. They were not just simple waxy slips, either. They were a nice weight that had a lovely deign with a date and time stamped on each with the name of an upcoming charity gala printed in cursive and the famous W logo of Wayne Enterprises Inc. 

“Ah, those, well, those came from Nightwing when he left me a tip. I don’t think he meant to give them? At least, that’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m sure Bruce Wayne meant for him to have them to attend. I just don’t know how to go about returning them. How does one call a nighttime vigilante without lighting up the sky with the Bat Signal?” She pointed out the issue she was in.

“Three weeks,” Citlalli scowled. “Nearly a month of holding onto these, and you never once thought to tell me?! They were just laying there on the kitchen floor near the trash! Were you going to throw them out?!” She shoved her face in front of Y/N’s, their noses mere inches from touching. 

“I wasn’t planning to throw them out, but like I said, there’s no way to return them!” Y/N moved her head back.

“¡Ay, ay, ay!” She stood back and hit the heel of her free palm into her forehead a few times. “We could use them! We could go! This could be how we celebrate finally being debt free!” Citlalli grabbed the two tickets and waved them at Y/N. “This is fate, it was meant to be! ¡Por Dios!” She once again dove into a flurry of Spanish as she paced up and down the small living room. From the way she waved her arms around, twirled, Y/N could only gather that the frenzied energy was excitement.

“Cici,” she firmly called out to her overly energized friend for the umpteenth time. “Don't you think these tickets are tracked? That Bruce Wayne would know which ticket is whose? So, when someone tries to use someone else's, they can cross-reference. And even if by some unknown luck, they let it slide, for whatever reason; and we take the leap and attend, we don't have anything to wear aside from old catering uniforms and whatever dresses we have for parties and dates. I’m not trying to be the buzzkill, but we’re not equipped for this.”

Citlalli looked between Y/N and the tickets several times before coming around the table and flopping down onto the couch with a heavy sigh of defeat. Y/N could only sadly smile at the scene. It hurt to burst the bubble, but it needed to be done. A somber silence filled the apartment, broken only by the noise from their neighbors or some troublemakers outside. They could officially forget about this and move on.

“My abuela can help us. She’s a great seamstress, and my tía Maribel and tía Estrella have their own boutique. It’s nowhere near Wayne level price tags, but they make good money and live in a safer city. They made my and all my cousins quinceañera dresses, too. I’m sure they can come up with something for this, or at least let us borrow two dresses for the evening.” Citlalli sat up and looked straight at Y/N.

“You’re really not going to let this go, huh?” Y/N could only sigh and shake her head. “The party is in two weeks. When will we have the time to go and try on dresses between work and my pending call to come into the precinct for a formal interview?”

“Mr. B owes us for covering all those shifts he had no one to cover for. He’ll be grateful we took off unpaid so he doesn't have to pay us as much overtime.” She rolled her eyes. “My family will even open the shop after hours just for us to look, we don't need to go during the work hours. We can buy roundtrip train tickets and spend the night there. We might not even have to call off work either, we can swap shifts with someone! This is perfect! Ok, that's what we’ll do! I'm going to go call my family and see what days are best!” Once again, Citlalli was off running and Y/N was left speechless and trying to figure out how they went from reason to a whole thought out plan.

You know what, why not? It doesn’t hurt to try. If she really wanted to go, I was going to suggest checking some consignment shops or thrift stores in the richer parts of the city. We can use that plan as backup, though. She gets to see her grandmother this way and I can say hi to her family as well. She smiled while watching Citlalli’s face light up while talking in Spanish to her family on the phone. Y/N was willing to deal with the Waynes if it meant her best friend would be happy. It’s the least I can do for all her family has done for me over the years, trouble aside.

It was done. There was nothing left to do and there was no reason to ever see her again unless he wanted to go get coffee. He was not against coffee, but he was not an addict like someone he knew. He glanced at the door as Tim walked in with a rather large cup. Jason frowned to himself, looking back down at his book, but his gaze quickly snapped back up to the third Robin. He knew that logo, it was the logo of the cafe Y/N worked at.

Why would he go all the way over there for a cup of coffee? Did he realize I kept going there for them? No, I only did that twice. He can’t have caught on to anything from just that no matter how smart he is. Maybe he liked it? It’s a popular place and he may have been scouting the area. He stared at the cup, almost glaring at it. Must be mice to not have a reason to go there and see her without a care in teh world.

“What?” Tim’s voice cut off his jealous thoughts. The second Wayne son raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re the one giving a death glare to my coffee, I think I have a right to know why.”

“I’m trying to figure out what number this one is for the day. Your coffee addiction is just starting to get concerning.” He retorted.

“I’m not a coffee ‘addict’,” Tim took a rather loud sip of his drink to punctuate his point. “I’m a caffeine-based life form and as such, I must honor the ways of my people.”“By drinking your three times your weight in coffee?” Jason snorted as he tried to stop from laughing. Caffeine-based life form? She’d get a kick out of that one. I wonder, has he met her? A sharp, stabbing pain suddenly pierced his chest.“Who am I to get between you and your crazy cult? Chug away,”  he slightly bowed his head in respect. Tim nodded in return and left the room. Jason gently rubbed the spot above his heart, frowning once more. Must be nice indeed.

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali @antiquecultist

[imaginesbymk]

/ LUCID WAVE /

Jones, an aimless businessman, purchases a program called LUCID WAVE that records your dreams via microchip for you to replay them on desktop. Convincing himself that his dreams are foretelling his future, it starts to grow into an addiction when he goes premium and alters his recordings into cinematic experiences, neglecting his priorities.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - death, some swearing

AUTHOR'S NOTE - this was my midterm assignment for my Creative Writing elective in my final year of college, Feb 2024, however this version is longer and I tweaked more things. My goal was to initially write a genre fiction that the reader could look over the first couple paragraphs and go, “This would make a really good Black Mirror episode.” Pls give it a like, reblog + feedback !

AS OF THIS MONTH + MOVING FORWARD I AM ABOUT TO DROWN IN BILLS - I WILL BE MOVING OUT DUE TO RENT ISSUES, SO POSTING MY ORIGINAL WORK TO PROMOTE MY WRITING COMMS IS EFFECTIVE. NO PRESSURE BUT PLEASE COMMISSION ME <333 SHARING THE LINK AND REBLOGGING IS GREATLY APPRECIATED

Tags (no pressure to read this at all) @locke-writes @moonlit-imagines @arrogant-sonofa-bitch @libraryoffandomsuniverse @littlemissvincentvega @alienoresimagines @murswrites @spacetalbot @eriimyon @royaltywhxre

̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶　　　　　　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

As soon as I woke up, I took two steps to my computer and sat down. I learned by now to wait at least four seconds for the logo to disappear, then, by muscle memory, click the X of the popup that makes its presence on my screen. This occurs as soon as the microchip was inserted. I logged in with my Face ID. Error. 

I blink my eyes a bit to wake myself up. Then I logged in again. Error.

“Jesus Christ.” I finger comb the knots out of my hair, leaned back in my chair, and stared blankly into the camera for a second attempt scan. The robotic-like voice chirped through the speaker.

“Welcome, Jones!”

“Shut up.” I pressed the X on the next ad then headed straight to the top left hand corner to make a new Dream Pod.

The left hand side showed the sidebar of my documents saved, a quarter of my recorded dreams were used as live wallpapers for my PC.

White or blue-white skies in my dreams are common when I go to sleep after drinking. I went to bed after downing five shots with Romus then collapsed in my bed, dropping my microchip on the ground and finally dabbing the gel on my temple. The microchip beeped and I blacked out.

There were times where I passed out in my bed or my couch, completely forgetting to apply the gel and microchip to record my dreams. On such slip ups, I end up having the most eventful dream or nightmare. LUCID WAVE won't generate a cinematic experience for you. Those were frustrating.

Today is casual.

I journal the title, DREAM 47, and hit PLAY, sipping my cold, unfinished coffee from yesterday. 

I couldn't look up on my dreams so I couldn't make out the colour of the sky, or if there were skies in my dream. Ahead of my point of view I was riding a skateboard, however. I have never skateboarded in my life, not even as a young boy. Too many injuries happen when you’re basking in the great outdoors. The visuals on the screen were blurred, but I paused the playback and adjusted the quality. I hop off the skateboard and it rolls away into the bushes - something I would have done if I felt impending doom of a knee scrap. In my point of view, I couldn’t tell if I was even wearing a helmet riding this skateboard. 

A boy in a sticker-patched helmet who looked to be at least twelve ran up to me, his voice echoing like tunnel vision. His speech was inaudible, but I could read his lips. “Hang in there, Jones.”

“Huh?” I hear my dream-voice mutter.

The kid scoots past me to skate down the bowl. 

I immediately recognized the boy to be one of the neighbourhood kids that recently adopted his pet hamster. What was he doing in my dream? Whatever. He's an alright kid, never came across as bratty.

The next frame showed someone handing me a bowl of lightsticks people wear around themselves at raves. Raves make me ill.

The person who handed me the bowl of lightsticks nods at me. It wasn’t anybody I recognized in particular.

Someone calls my name through the music and I spin to my right and wave at… the high school valedictorian from ‘94, who was now apparently a hot–shot chief social media officer for LUCID WAVE. 

“How’s the job hunting?” Saul yells over the rave. 

Dream-me scoffs.

But then the blinding neon lights and the stage stripped apart. Saul wasn’t beside me anymore, and the ravers were all gone. The grass was gone. The music ceased. Now it got dark. I was lying in bed. I muttered under my breath as I tried to switch the filter to make it back in colour, but it turned out to be the filter in itself. The abruption was in a grayscale filter, almost too saturated and blotchy that it looked like a silent film.

From the corner of my screen, a humanoid hung upside down from my ceiling.

This was what I was waiting for while I was conscious in my sleep. I remembered it so well. Last night I was having mild dreams, then it crept into sleeping paralysis.

The humanoid blinks then crab-walks over to my side of the bed. I laugh in excitement as I quickly cropped the 5 second frame of the humanoid in my dark room and saved it as a sidepod, coining it “UNTITLED 1920s SHORT HORROR FILM."

After I hit save, the screen dims. Would you like to continue to third visual? The screen asked me. I click YES.

Third dream, I was in some sort of banquet hall with a bunch of people, and I seemed to have time travelled. Everyone’s too cyperpunk. Their appearances made them seem like it was wrong to consider them humans anymore. I was the only one in the room without any sort of body modifications done on me.

Over time, I noticed a pattern. Each dream that had to do with my personal life lasted an hour. Each dream that had to do with my career lasted twenty minutes less. Any other dream that was just unhinged and random, if I was riding a giant cow in Southcentral L.A wearing a divesuit, it would be no less than ten minutes. 

Another thing I noticed, my dreams since Night 1 were not in chronological order, which makes my job harder. 

Third dream was queued. 

I checked the features of the third dream. It lasted a bit and it occurred around 4AM, this dream was not what I remembered compared to the skateboard and cyborg meeting. 

Time check. 07:28AM. LUCID WAVE played another unskippable ad and I blew cold air in my mug. As I sipped slowly, I realized it was still the cold coffee I never finished the other day, so I began to pour it down my system. The ad ends and the visual comes to view. My fingers press the mouse, proceeding to edit the next scenes of my “dream movie", when I nearly spilled cold, leftover dark coffee onto my lap.

It captured it so slowly that I was so sure a man in a black suit was speaking into a microphone. His smile was big with tears of joy in his eyes. He was giving a speech to me and whoever was beside me. When I turned to my right, a woman in white appeared, holding my hand. I felt a surge of warmth when the pixels clear up a bit to accentuate her smile. She was beautiful. I have never seen her before, but I felt as though I knew her my whole life.

The man in the black suit giving his speech raised his champagne glass in the air, “Y’all, I can only say so much but my speech is slurred. I’m ending the speech there.” A roar of cheers and hollers erupt in the background. “To the bride and groom-”

In a split second, the screen began to glitch and I let out a cry of despair and irritation. I helplessly stare at the program crashing on me.

WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING A LUCID WAVE OUTAGE DUE TO HIGH TRAFFIC. TOO MANY MOVIEZ FOR THE SNOOZIES. WE'LL BE RIGHT BACK! REFRESH OR CHECK BACK IN A BIT! 🛌🌙💤

I let out another yell. If I paid premium, my user would be prioritized during the outage and I'd be back to viewing and editing within five minutes. The longest I waited for the piece of shit to light back up was a whole day. When I couldn't wait any longer, I took a nap in the middle of the day, foolishly forgetting to apply the sticky gel on my temple for the microchip to capture my dream of me meeting my favourite Twitch streamer.

As I waited, it dawned on me like the sun that was rising above the buildings just now. This was yet another piece of evidence of my theory, that I could be making money off of, but all I could do first was dissociate in my seat. LUCID WAVE is a menace if it’s just faulty wiring, but I hope I’m wrong about that. 

My expression darkens. DREAM 47 was significant today, but not because of sleep paralysis. I've gone nuts about this, but something in my gut tells me that I'm dreaming of my future. The beautiful bride in my dream smiled at me like I had hung the moon, and I am aching to find out more about her.

̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶　　　　　　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

Romus arrived. I winced as I handed the package and remote to Romus. “It’s all yours.”

“It’s rare nowadays to give up a hologram projector,” he says. “Now, be straight with me. Are you sure you want to give this away?”

“I’m nearing nine-hundred bucks to pay LUCID WAVE premium.”

Romus chuckles lightly. “God, not that stupid iMovie app for sleep.”

“You’ve read the reviews, right?” I counted the wad of cash he handed me. I mentally counted three-hundred dollars to add to my first making of six-hundred after selling some old clothes and my massage chair. “One guy made his into a manga series on his social media. I sent him an email asking what program he used to make for his–”

“Can I borrow your car?” Romus cuts me off. “Just a quick beer run. I’ll be fast.”

“I sold my car.”

Romus blinked. Before he could question me on it, I ushered him out of my apartment so he could figure it out on his own. 

I sigh in relief, stuffing the nine-hundred dollars all together and stashing it safely in a manila envelope. I withdrew everything at the bank the next day and avoided the bank teller’s inquiry about the 200 credit card debt from last autumn. I clicked the GO PREMIUM WITH LUCID WAVE+ option at the side of the screen as soon as I raced back to my condo. 

The little comment flew up on screen when the cursor hovered over the option. 

GO PREMIUM WITH LUCID WAVE+ Unlock special editing tools Skip the ads Skip the waiting room of WAVES (LUCID WAVE users) during outages Access community discussions on dream interpretations Sleep aid which includes ASMR, ambiance, relaxing music and meditation! 

As soon as I continued to sign up for premium, my heart sank. It was a $999.99 monthly prescription. I was short on $99.99. I buried my head in my hands, knowing that my mysterious bride in DREAM 47 was still blurred out in the playbacks, and being short on a hundred dollars tore me apart. I am almost certain I am seeing the future before my eyes on my recorded dreams, of my life when I’m in my mid 30s, married and more alarmingly extroverted than I could ever imagine myself being. I’m seeing a version of myself that I don’t recognize at all. It’s a sheer distortion, but in this dream, as well as the collection of others, it’s my ideal life. 

That was when I looked down at my Rolex that cost me the electrical bill wrapped around my wrist…

̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶　　　　　　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

In DREAM 39, I was an intern for my former job’s rival company and it was a higher pay than my last job. I finally knew what was going on with the clarity enhanced with the premium effects.

My beloved Rolex was gone. I’m glad I sold it to someone who had half his hair dyed red, otherwise I wouldn’t have known that the woman in my dream, a glimpse of my future, destiny, whatever I should call it, is named Cynthia and she is my wife. That dawned on me for the rest of the evening as I downed my beer that Romus shared from his run. The new features during playback allows me to adjust the blurriness of the wedding reception and my best man’s speech. It wasn’t Romus. 

I didn’t sleep. Rent was due in a few days. I submitted the transaction on my phone with half of my severance pay before opening LUCID WAVE. The mental note I made that I was down to $60 in my savings left my mind immediately when I unclipped the microchip from my temple and plugged it in, feeling the oiliness of the device on my fingertips. I made a mental note to buy cleanser.

Four seconds. The LUCID WAVE logo to disappear and it took me straight to the homepage without X-ing off popups on gambling Casino apps.

I grabbed the eye drops from the pencil cup and shook it before squeezing two drops in my left eye. Then I made a blank face and stared into the camera, trying to log in.

“Welcome, Jones!”

I headed straight to the top left hand corner to review the rough cuts from DREAM 39-47. For three weeks, I went straight to work like an editor in post-production of a high-grossing film. A month's worth of dozens of dreams I collected from night and midday naps...

Cynthia and I were married in my dreams. Putting all the pods together and splitting some frames apart felt like finishing a puzzle. Cynthia was beautiful. The clarity settings on LUCID WAVE+ emphasized her boasting smile. When we walked on the beach in DREAM 48 on our honeymoon, I felt like we were floating in mid-air that caused abruption of our footprints in the sand.

My honeymoon dream was saved into a film: "CYNTHIA."

Romus calls me at around 7am as I adjusted the volume of last night's REM. DREAM 113. “Yeah?” I put Romus on speaker.

“You are full of shit,” He says.

“Look who’s talking,” I chuckle lightly, hovering my mouse to the end of the playback, and lowered the clarity of the sun shining in my dream so I could see Cynthia yelling at me about something I couldn’t fathom. Cynthia points at me in first person point of view as Dream!Me argued back while looking back and forth at the road.

“Jones?” Romus yells over the other line. “JONES!”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“Jones! What is happening to you?” Romus exclaims.

I blink in surprise. Romus and I insult each other playfully, but I could tell this was different, just by hearing his voice this early in the day. Though I couldn’t place the last time we were together, confusion washed over me. Did I do something wrong?

A slight pause. “Huh?”

“Remember when you said you’d make it to my AirBnb?” 

My heart sank, reading the date on my dekstop. Romus turned 27 two days ago.

“Romus, I am so sorry–” I plead as Cynthia continued yelling at me in DREAM 113, or DREAM 39, whichever sidepod it was I was editing into a film, tears pouring down her face. The audio like a faint echo, and that was why I couldn’t hear anything. I pressed several buttons and amplified the speakers.

“Screw you.”

“I’m so sorry about missing your birthday,” I said. “I was caught up with my own shit that I just forgot.”

“What own shit? You’re not even working!” Romus yells again. 

I was too far gone, but DREAM 113 intrigued me. My heart sank even deeper as the playback went to its last minute and Cynthia was inaudibly yelling at me. I kept playing around with the editing tools for the audio to reset.

From the corner of my eyes, I could see that Romus was still on the phone, yelling at me, but I couldn't hear him. I tuned him out. I turn my full attention back to Cynthia. Why was Cynthia yelling at me? Why was she crying?

“You know what your deal is, asshead?” Romus scoffs. “It’s that goddamn dream-maker thing. You missed my birthday, Jones. My birthday and my Dad’s funeral. That shit has got to go, man. You’re still at home doing nothing but staring at a blue screen until you turn blind!”

“Romus, I’m hanging up.”

“If you hang up, I am no longer your friend,” Romus warns. “You will never see or hear from me ever again.”

“I’ll live,” I snap.

“How can you live with the fact that you pawned your great uncle’s Medal of Honour?!”

“I needed money, Romus.”

“Then get a job!” My eyes rolled at his response. He yells again, “I work at a sketchy bodega! You have a f–cking marketing degree! I’ve referred you to my sister’s manager and she never heard back from you! Guess when that happened? Last week!”

“I needed to see Cynthia!” I mutter. 

“Cynthia isn’t real!” Romus screams. “Your dreams are not real! That dream program is lying to you! Your brain is melting because of that thing! Cynthia isn’t REAL—-!”

A scream rings out of my vocal cords as I watched in my dream point of view, Cynthia’s head slamming into the windshield after the black pickup truck collided into us at the front of my car. I jumped back, falling out of my chair and landing on the floor, taking the chair down with me. 

My ears began to ring and Romus’s calls from my phone echoed away until it became nothing but incoherent sounds. Romus finally hangs up.

My eyes blurred until a tear ran down my cheek in the same pace as sweat trickled down my temple, wiping the stain of the microchip. 

Cynthia’s eyes glazed at me as we laid in my car flipped over to the side of the road. Her eyes stay opened for a long time until she took her last breath right in front of me.

The playback ended, but now my screen was blurred.

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[idkfitememate]

Welcome To Aperture Science

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! GLaDOS Reader x Raiden Shogun, Kujo, Aether, Dottore & Maillardet

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 6.5k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ��� ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Reader is a insane robot, Mutilation, descriptive gore

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : I ran into a bit of a dilemma in writing this. I realized that a lot of you probably would be able to get into the role of you were called “GLaDOS”, so here’s the plan. I tried my hardest to not have to use (y/n), but me thinks I’m gonna have to. The actual operating system will be called “GLaDOS”, but you yourself will be called (y/n). You’re replacing Caroline & GLaDOS. There will be a little surprise - since this is my ver of Portal (AKA throwing Portal into Genshin), so you’ll be introduced as (y/n)! If this ruins the experience, please let me know, and I’ll come up with something different! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

Also! GORE WARNING!!!! THERE WILL BE GORE!! I’ll post a warning right before it starts and a little thing for where it ends!! ☆૮꒰ˊᗜˋ* ꒱ა

Finding out one of your islands is being used for things unknown is not something you want to wake up too.

But unfortunately, that was what Miss. Raiden Ei was subjected to this morning.

The apparent “island” wasn’t even actually an island. It looked like a small plot of land, with it’s only inhabitant being an old bot that resembled a Fontainian Meka - which was still active and very dangerous - and what looked to be some kind of small, one person hut. But when the fishermen who had found this island somehow managed to enter the hut, they found it actually housed a long, winding staircase that plummeted into the earth.

So of course this news was sent straight to Ei. As the Archon, anything that went on in her Nation’s boundaries that wasn’t documented was immediately brought up to her for investigation. In any other case she would have told the Tenryou Commission to take care of it or otherwise, but seeing as this was seemingly more than just a “island descending into the depths” - the fishermen also reported strange noises coming from below - this seemed like it would need to be handled with a more… direct touch.

Gathering her wits, she made a small “exploration team”. This team consisted of:

1. The Traveler, because why wouldn’t it

2. Kujo Sara, her loyalty will be of use

3. Maillardet, she had heard of his helping with the Icewind Suite Meka. His expertise may be needed.

And finally, though unfortunately,

4. Dottore.

As much as she may have detested the Fatui and their methods, she couldn’t deny they got results. And on top of that she had heard of his experiments on that of Ruin Guards, which again may be needed.

After making her plans and sending off letters to all she believed she may need, the Shogun began to wait.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍰🍧🍯୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

It was dark in the Aperture Science building. Though it wasn’t silent. After word from the singular guard at one of many openings alerted human sightings after… years of nothing, you had to admit something inside you was excited.

It was in human and monster nature to be curious of the unknown. And with all the years since your last… nuisance test subject, you figured that Aperture may have been - more likely was - forgotten by those above.

You rapidly repaired test room after test room, rebuilding the facility to the best of your current abilities. Which wasn’t much a problem, because due to the lack of human error, you were able to keep the place up and running with extreme precision.

It looked just like when Aperture was first built.

With different power sources from every nation, keeping powered on was never an issue. The location that had been found by humans was the one that was powered by the never ending lightning storm that surrounded the nation of Inazuma.

The strikes of Electro traveled through the water into sensors placed on the ocean floor, that changed the pure Electro into actual electricity that was then used to power the specific part of Aperture Science that was stationed below it.

The real facility spanned all across Teyvat.

This was only the beginning.

And your cold heart was more than ready for this coming future.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍰🍫🍭୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

“I am shocked than and Archon such as yourself has called for me.”

All heads in the room turned to face the masked male.

Kujo immediately summoned her bow and pointed it at the man, while Traveler did the same with his sword. Poor Maillardet only ran behind the armed female, clutching her skirt.

Kujo glanced at him before pushing all attention back on Dottore.

“Please lower your weapons.” Heads whipped to look at the sullen voice of Ei.

“I asked him to be here. Please do not make this experience more difficult than it already may be.” Even she seemed… less than enthused by her actions, but the sudden silence- to soak up her words - was interrupted by the man in question’s laughter.

“And how shocked I was when The Tsaritsa said the Electro Archon herself had asked for my assistance in a ‘pressing matter’! Please, do listen to her and try to not make this difficult?” His grin unwavering. Aether scoffed and Kujo only huffed a small ‘Yes, my Shogun’, before turning to her backseat passenger who hadn’t moved since Dottore’s appearance.

“… What?” The brunette asked. Then he sighed. “Just because I build fighters doesn’t mean I myself can fight, Madame.” He quickly pushed himself off her and dusted both her and him off.

With one more sigh, Ei stood.

“Let us not waste anymore time. There is an odd island off the coast of Amakane Island. On it is a single individual that resembles a Fontainian Meka, and a hut. The odd thing being that this hut holds a staircase that “plummets into the earth”, so say my sources.” She then looked at the Doctor.

“Have your men done anything to this island?” It was a fair question.

It wouldn’t be odd for the Fatui to have a lab or something of the sort in a Nation without the Archon or Nation’s knowledge. In fact, it wouldn’t be the first time. Though - again - Dottore only laughed again.

“No, Miss. Ei. We haven’t any labs that “plummet into the earth”, as you say.” Kujo flinched at him not referring to her Archon by her title, but before she could do anything, she was stopped by a look from said Archon.

“Thank you for being honest,” she hummed, “Then we best be off. Who knows what we shall find and who knows how long we may be.” And she started off.

Following behind her was everyone but Maillardet, who looked confused.

“No equipment? No food provisions?” He glanced a guard who was stationed at a door nearby who shrugged. They both sighed and spoke in unison.

“Vision holders…”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🎂🍬🧁୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Making their way to Amakane Island was easy enough. Making their way to the unnamed island was also easy.

The Meka that was guarding the small hut was… tall, to say the least.

“It looks vaguely like a Suppression Specialist Mek mixed with an Assault Specialist Mek…” Maillardet muttered, causing Dottore’s head to whip in his direction.

“So nothing you’ve seen before?” He mused, causing the Fontainian to glare at him.

“No.” He huffed, “It isn’t.” Dottore smirked at that answer.

“Then we have an unknown Meka on our hands? Perhaps made by someone outside of Fontaine-“ “No.” Maillardet interrupted.

“It still has hints of Fontainian handiwork. The way you can see some gears and cogs, as well as the fact that it’s utilizing Fontaine gun tech. It very well could be imbued with Arkeh energy. If I had to guess, Ousia.”

Everyone stared at the man, who blushed.

“What I’m trying to say,” he breathed, “Is that while it’s not any Meka I’ve ever seen, it’s definitely made by Fontainian hands. Sir Aether should know how to deal with it effectively.” Dottore stared at the man.

Aether nodded and jumped off the boat they all currently inhabited, and began to attack. The others stayed back and watched as he gracefully dodged attacks and fought back.

Though, in a sudden switch of attack, the bullets firing from the cannon on its arm changed to Electro-Charged pellets of water. The sudden swap shocked Aether and the Mek was able to land a few solid hits on the man.

Getting fed up, Kujo stood to fight, but Ei held her back.

“Those are Electro-Charged attacks.” “I understand Shogun but-“ “No. We’d only make things worse.” With a huff, the tengu sat down, glaring at the Doctor who dared to chuckle.

The fight continued on for a few more minutes before Aether came out triumphant. As the Mek collapsed, a voice rung out from its destroyed body.

“Warn…ing…Intruders At….Inazuma Ent…rance…Access Not Given…Send Warning To GL…a…” Before finally collapsing. Aether stood overtop its corpse before turning to the others.

“Well… I suppose we can continue onward?” Maillardet questioned, only to be met with everyone else in the boat jumping out onto dry land, once more leaving him behind.

The man grumbled as he slowly pulled himself out the boat, soaking his boots and pants.

By the time he made it, everyone but Dottore had made their way into the hut, on their way down.

“After you.” The bluenette grinned, and Maillardet shuddered.

And then they all made their decent.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍮🍯🍫୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

While the staircase itself was long and narrow, surrounded on all sides by pipes and cogs, what they found at the bottom was truly a sight; though they had been going down for a while.

A large open space - like a courtyard. There was artificial sunlight that streamed in from the panels on the ceiling that simulated a blue sky. False grass and trees swayed in a deceptive breeze. A ‘building’ sat before them with glass doors. It was grey and unassuming, the words “Aperture Science Laboratories” was in big lettering above the doors in big, illuminated lighting.

“Incredible…” Dottore mumbled as the group began to make their way down a path that led from the staircase to the building.

Just then, a sharp creaking noise was heard, and the staircase they had just traversed began to retract. It slowly made its way upward, lifting off the ground. Without flinching, Kujo summoned her bow and knocked an arrow, looking for a place to shoot. Finding a button near the staircase labeled ‘emergency shut down’, she shot, hitting it head on.

“Sudden Power Surge Detected At: Inazuma Docking Station. Rerouting Power Surge To Backup Power Supply’s. Emergency Dock Closing System: Initiated.”

And with that, the stairs shot up, effectively sealing the group inside.

“Sorry, Shogun…” was the only thing that left the now embarrassed Kujo’s lips.

“Worry not, I am sure we’ll find another exit eventually. Let us continue forth.” And onward they went.

Walking down the path, Dottore noted that there were hills far beyond the little building before them, fading off into the distance.

“I wonder how long this facility stretches out?..” He wondered aloud. Maillardet grumbled under his breath.

“Hopefully not that far…”

Entering the building they were met with something none of them - minus Dottore - had experienced.

Fluorescent lighting.

The light outside had at least been convincing, but the buzzing overhead and the slight flickering was enough to get under everyone’s - again, minus Dottore’s - skin.

“Whatever is this awful-“

“Welcome, gentleman, to Aperture Science. Humans, Vision Holders, War-Hero’s, Hybrids — you’re here because we want the best, and you’re it. Now, who’s ready to make some science?”

Weapons were immediately drawn from hearing the unusual voice.

“Who dared cut of The Shogun-“

“Now, you already met one another on the boat ride over, so let me introduce myself. I’m Cave Johnson. I own the place.”

Kujo growled.

“Well, Mr. “Cave Johnson”, I recommend you reveal yourself before we-“

“Mr. Johnson! I believe you’re forgetting something..? Or rather, someone..?”

All heads turned to the wall length screen that turned on with the new voice.

They were met with a cartoonish figure of a person, though their head was replaced by the grey, circle logo of Aperture. They were dressed in a white button up with a black vest overtop. With pure black dress pants and black dress shoes. A snow white lab coat over their shoulders and pure white gloves on their hands. The only hint of color or their person was an orange tie.

Dottore was the first to walk over, pressing a gloved hand to the screen.

“This is all absolutely incredible…” he spoke with a grin.

Nobody noticed how the figure flinched away.

“That eager voice you heard is the lovely (y/n), my assistant. They were added as a safety protocol in case some of you get lost. There are screens all of Aperture where they can keep a close eye on you, to make sure you stay in one piece, or at least as close to one piece as we can get you. Now, rest assured, they have transferred your honorarium to the charitable organization of your choice, isn’t that right, (y/n)?”

The figure on the screen - now known as (y/n) - nodded. Or… nodded as best a 2D model may be able to nod.

“That’s right, Mr. Johnson.”

“Since their addition, they have been the backbone of this facility. Pretty as a postcard too. Sorry fellas, they’re married. To science.”

They watched as you walked over on the “screens”, trotting all the way over to a pair of double doors. With one arm behind you, you held an open palm in the direction of said doors.

“Now, if you just follow them, they’ll take you right to the testing sites.”

With that small tidbit of information, the group reluctantly walked their way over to the doors. Pushing through them, they watched as you faded on the other side. Only for the walls of the hallway surrounding them to light up with bright white light, and for you to be on their right side, walking down the hall on your screens.

“There’s a thousand tests performed everyday here in our enrichment spheres. I can’t personally oversee every single one of them, so these pre-recorded messages’ll cover any questions you might have, and respond to any incidents that may occur in the course of your science adventure!”

You continued walking down the long hall, it slowly dipping further and further into the earth, but not to an alarming degree. A tune played throughout the hall, your head bobbing to the beat.

“Recorded..?” Ei asked. She turned to Kujo and Aether, who both shrugged. She then turned to Maillardet who muttered a quick ‘I’ve heard of it… that’s all…’ then looked away. Finally she looked towards Dottore.

“… Recordings are a rather new technology I’ve discovered. It’s a lost technique from long ago, the act of taking the waves of one’s voice down onto a physical form - such as a disk or a vinyl - and relaying those waves through a certain machine to recreate noises. I’ve been able to get my hands on a few, but to find one of such large scale, with moving images to boot! If I can get my hands on whatever is relaying these recordings…” His voice toned back when he realized he was walking alone.

Turning back he noticed that everyone had stopped behind him, confusion written all over their faces. He groaned, slapping a hand over his eyes before dragging it down the side of his face.

“It refers to something hearing noise, then relaying it at a later time when prompted.” And on they continued. It took a moment to catch up to you, as you had continued on your merry way while they had been stopped.

When they made it, Cave Johnson began speaking again.

“Your test assignments will vary, depending on the manner in which you have bent the world to your will.”

They finally made it to the end of the hall, with double doors greeting them. The doors opened automatically, opening to a large space, akin to an auditorium. Doors led off to different halls, each closed off by double doors that were identical to the ones they just came through. The room was surrounded by the Aperture logo, with small tables set up with small experiments on them. Walking past, Maillardet’s eyes glanced at a potato battery.

The most obvious thing in the room were the blue and yellow lines on the floor that each led to another room. You popped up again on a few overhead screens, though now you were sitting at a desk, typing away. You occasionally took a sip from a grey cup.

“Those of you helping us test the repulsion gel today, just follow the blue lines on the floor. Those of you who volunteered to be injected with praying mantis DNA I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

Lights lit up over the blue lines and your figure changed to a looping recording of you walking on the lines and through the door.

“Injected with praying mantis DNA… why would you ever..?” Maillardet wondered with a grimace, while Dottore only smirked.

“I think me and this Mr. Johnson may have something in common. Anything in the name of science.” His grin made Aether shiver.

“Can we please just move on?” The blonde growled. He turned to the two females, only to find Kujo trying to open another door with Ei beside her.

“What are you doing..?” He asked. The General exhaled before turning back to the group.

“Trying to find another way out. Why are we even listening to this Cave Johnson person? We don’t know who he is, we don’t know where he is, we don’t even know what he looks like.” She walked over to another set of doors and tugged.

“She has a point.” Said Ei. “But in that same breath, we don’t know where we are either. The only thing pushing us forward is the voice of Mr. Johnson.” She placed a hand on the tengu’s shoulder.

“I feel it may be in our best interest to listen for now. When we find an exit, we’ll leave immediately.” Kujo sighed and muttered an apology before turning to the blue lines.

The loop of your walking through the doors still played above as everyone filled through the doors.

“Bad news, we’re postponing those tests indefinitely. Good news is we have a much better test for you: fighting an army of mantis men.”

“WHAT?!-“ shouted Maillardet. “WHY WOULD YOU EVER-“ A hand was slapped over his mouth as Dottore shushed him.

“I want to hear the rest of this.” he whispered.

“Pick up a rifle and follow the yellow line. You’ll know when the test starts.”

“Oh Mr. Johnson…” Dottore swooned.

“Only a rifle..?” Maillardet whimpered.

Kujo groaned. “Don’t worry about that now. We’re following the blue lines. Not the yellow ones.” Ei grinned slightly at the banter.

“They say great science is built on the shoulder of giants. Not here. At Aperture, we do all our science from scratch. No hand holding.”

“I really do like this man.” Dottore grinned.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍩🍫🍦୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Walking along the catwalks was a new feeling. Despite the no longer being really… anywhere… there were still screens nearby that depicted you walking along side the group.

Little to no effort was made to make any kind of conversation. Just the sounds of different kinds of shoes hitting the metal that made up the catwalks.

Though that all changed within a moment.

“Hello..? Hello??”

The sudden voice calling out made everyone come to a stop. Aether brandished his sword and turned to a pair of doors that led off the path they were being led down.

They waited with bated breath as the mechanical whirling of something moving towards them echoed in the open space. The walls themselves seemed to shift as whatever it was made its way to the door…

The doors burst open as a spherical robot with a bright blue eye pushed its way through the doors, pausing when it saw the group.

“Humans..? Humans?? Humans!! Wait… HUMANS?!?!” Its confound shock was extremely apparent, especially with the way it screamed out.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING BACK HERE?!?! I haven’t seen a human since… since… her…” It’s tone grew somber within a second, but then it shook on its… bar??? Grip??? Dottore wanted to know.

“That doesn’t matter, what matters is that you guys are humans! Actual, genuine humans!” It rolled forward on its… whatever and faced them.

“… None of you have the portal gun though.. oh. Do you have those ‘vision’ things? Because I can assure you they won’t be of much help here-”

“And why is that?” Dottore jumped in.

“… Well first off all, it was incredibly rude to cut me off there, secondly, Aperture focused on the sciences that… well, had to do with those who lacked visions. Now don’t get me wrong, there were certainly tests for those who had them but uh… yeah these were mostly for those without.” It nodded.

“I see… now. Do you happen to have a name. Or would you tell us what you are?” The Doctor asked.

“A name..? Right! Oh gosh, I completely forgot about that. Wheatley’s the name and… yeah I don’t know where that was going really. And to answer the other question, I am what’s known as a core, but where are you lot off to?” He introduced. Though before the blue haired doctor could answer, a voice rung out.

“They’re off to test with the repulsion gel, Wheatley.” Your voice ring out, and there you were on the screen, facing them with a hand on your hip. The core seemed the freeze up at your voice, which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh! Uh… hey… (y/n)… hehe.” Wheatley seemed uncomfortable at now knowing of your presence, before something seemed to pop into his head.

“But… without the portal gun?”

“You don’t necessarily need a-“

“What’s a portal gun?” Maillardet questioned. You heaved a long sigh and Wheatley seemed to brighten up.

“We’ll only one of, if not the, best things Aperture has ever made, of course! It’s this nifty little gun that allows a person to go from one point, to another in just a snap!.. If I could snap I would to punctuate my point-“

“What he means-“ You interrupted, “Is that it is a special device that allows someone to manipulate space itself by opening up a doorway - otherwise known as a portal - and go from an unreachable point A to unreachable point B… or at the very least a vision-less ‘someone’. We weren’t able to test on those with a vision… or any non-humans with human intelligence; such as Oni from Inazuma or Adepti from Liyue. But even then our knowledge is… limited…”

Wheatley stared at you as you explained the Portal Gun in detail, before scanning the group.

“Oh! There is a vision-less with you!”

Maillardet swallowed nervously.

“Here, you won’t be at a disadvantage if you let us give you the Portal Gun! No need to feel like you may be falling behind… bloody hell you might even be able to go ahead and be advantaged in this situation!” The blue eyed bot explained.

“Wait wait wait… are either of you… alive or uh..” Aether stumbled over his words before you cut him off impatiently.

“Yes we are entirely sentient. Now Wheatley, we can’t make these decisions-“

“I don’t know why you’re complaining. You’ve been moping about for years! All because you ‘don’t have any human testers’ and ‘robots were starting to get the same results’ and ‘humans unpredictability made them unique’ and-“

“That’s enough, you idiot.” “HEY!-“ “Fine. Here’s how this will work, so be quiet and listen.”

Nobody moved.

“We will give your little friend access to The Portal Gun, you complete a couple tests for us, and we help you leave as fast as possible. Deal?”

“Well it doesn’t sound like we get much out of that deal besides our assured exit.” Ei stated, and you groaned.

“You’ll have access to technologies that those above this facility have not had access to for years. Plus, this will practically be free training. Now do we have a deal?” Your impatience was starting to grow clearer and clearer with each passing moment.

“Well-“ “YES!” Maillardet screamed. He didn’t care. This was his chance to truly make a name for himself. If he was able to get this ‘Portal Gun’ outside of the facility, the things he may be able to do with that tech…

Everyone looked at him with shock - though Dottore was more amused than anything - at how fast he agreed.

“Great! Wonderful even! Here, just follow me through here and we’ll get you right as rain, isn’t that right (y/n)?” Wheatley glanced at you as he turned on his rail. If you could, you would’ve rolled your eyes.

They watched as the screen you stood on blinked off, and Wheatley rolled away.

Maillardet followed behind and the others hesitated. Though after that moment of hesitation, they followed behind as well.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍡🍯🍮୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Instead of the grey halls and metal walls they had become accustom to, they were met with greenage and foliage on all sides.

Flora of all kinds blossomed around them, tress that reached higher than any of them could see. They all followed behind the humming core, until he suddenly stopped.

“Now, this is a bit awkward, but my rail system ends here. I’m gonna let go, but I need someone to catch me. Do we have any volunteers..?” Wheatley informed and asked. He looked around the group only to make eye contact with Dottore. Who was grinning. Sharp teeth fully on display.

“Uhm… anyone..?” The robot squeaked. Though the only one who moved closer was Dottore.

He sighed, then ‘steeled’ his nerves.

“Alright, I’ll let go on the count of three- NO, ONE! If I do it on three I’ll chicken out and… mmmm I’m talking to much aren’t I? I’m nervous because of the very real possibility that you may drop me. Not to say you look weak or anything, you actually look quite strong. Has anyone ever told you that? I mean, personally I would prefer to be strong if I had a body… On that note I wished they gave us hands. That’d be nice. Or a way to move while not on the rail systems. They can only go so many places and so far, you know? And some of them end in the oddest of places. I found one that ended over a bottomless pit. Isn’t that just insane? I mean-“

Dottore grumbled something under his breath before moving directly below the blabbering bot. Then he cleared his throat, and screamed:

“ONE!”

The high pitched scream Wheatley let out as he fell would’ve been able to convince anyone that he was actually a girl. Dottore’s knees nearly buckled under the sheer weight of the still screaming robot in his arms. After finding his footing, they all stared at Wheatley, who continued to scream for a solid minute before realizing he wasn’t falling anymore.

“AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaa…. Oh. You caught me. That’s a first- Anyway, directions! You’re going to want to follow the greyed out path through the green, and you’ll find a platform behind some broken walls and such. I’ll admit, when you get there it’s a bit of a jump, but I have faith in you lot!” He… grinned??? Well it was as close to a grin as a giant metal eyeball could get.

Everyone hummed in response and continued to trek on. Every now and then Dottore or Ei would ask about a type of flower or plant they saw, only for Wheatley to say he’s neither the flower nor plant core. Which led to Dottore asking about cores and Wheatley offering an explanation.

“Cores are… well to put it in perspective think of the basic parts of your personality. Of what makes you, you. Cores are basically that! We work as the pure forms of interests or emotions. Such as the flower core, who only ever talks about flowers. Or the anger core who… uhm… well. He screams? I guess?” Wheatley answered.

“So… what do you embody? Fear? Worry? Rambling?” Dottore asked, only for Wheatley to shout in objection.

“No! Absolutely not! None of those things! In fact, just for that, I don’t think I want to tell you.” He spun his eye around as to not look at the man carried him, causing Dottore to chuckle.

Maillardet suddenly shot ahead, causing everyone to quickly follow after. Wheatley seemed to understand why he shot ahead.

“There she is.” He muttered.

Just behind a wall, there it was.

Placed on a pedestal, vines and flowers grew all around in a mesmerizing pattern. A small hole in the roof let a halo of light fall onto the midsized device.

It was sleek. It was shiny. White and black mixed together in a perfect blend.

“Isn’t it beautiful? The pride of Aperture. What nearly all of our resources went into after its conception.” Wheatley mused. His focus was entirely on the gun in front of them.

Though his previous statement was true, there was a rather large drop from the platform they were on and the platform the Gun was on.

“You can drop me here.” The core suddenly spoke. Dottore looked down with a bit of a scowl.

“Weren’t you the one who screamed like a baby at falling only about four feet?” He asked. Wheatley scoffed.

“That was the make sure you’d catch me… anyway, I know I can survive this fall. I’ve survived worse. Just drop me and then jump down. It’ll be easier that way.” Wheatley’s voice suddenly got very serious. it lost its lively charm and became something more robotic… which was ironic.

The robot started acting more robotic, and they felt uncomfortable about it.

Dottore scoffed, then dropped the core without care. Though this time, Wheatley didn’t make a sound, just a small grunt when he hit the floor.

‘It can physically feel..?’ Dottore wondered.

Then one by one, they jumped down - Aether catching Maillardet - and began their walk over to the Gun after Dottore picked up Wheatley again.

“Hold on.” The blue eyes core suddenly spoke. His eye turned to a wall, and the panels suddenly shifted. A small control panel pushed itself out, presenting itself to the group.

“Plug me in there. I can make sure nothing hostile happens to pass by.” He explained.

“Hostile..?” Ei questioned and Wheatley, suddenly seeming very tired, sighed.

“Yes. Hostile. Just- Don’t worry about it, okay? I promise nothing will happen.” He glanced back at the group with a drooped eye. Dottore placed him on the panel.

Electricity shot out for a moment, then the core settled. He looked back, then without a word, got pulled back into the wall.

“It looks… so mesmerizing…” Maillardet whispered. He was the closest to the Gun. He hesitantly reached a hand out and touched it. Then, he picked it up and got a grip on it.

“I can’t say I’ve ever shot a gun but…” The mechanic pointed the gun at a wall, away from everyone as they watched.

He shot the gun.

And everyone watched as a pure black circle surrounded by blue latched onto the wall.

Everyone stood in shock.

He hesitantly shot right next to the blue and was met with a circle of orange.

Though now he could see through both.

And they reflected the room back to him.

He walked closer and looked through one and saw everyone looking back at him in silent disbelief.

He stuck a hand through the blue portal.

And watched his hand exit the orange.

He fell back in shock and everyone ran closer. They gathered around him, awe and shock written all across their faces.

“This is…” Dottore spoke.

“… A revelation.” Maillardet finished.

“Truly, isn’t it?”

The third voice broke everyone out of their stupor. They watched as the walls fluctuated and moved, opening the room up into another.

It was dark - pitch black, save for the screen that had only your figure on it. You stared at the group before moving your attention to the Portal Gun.

“Such an expensive piece of equipment it is… hopefully you understand what I’m about to do is only in your best interests.”

The screens blipped off, and a hole in the center of the room opened, a disgusting orange red glow emanating from it.

“Preparations Made. Systems Online. Ready For Emergency Long Fall Boot Insertion. Is Moderator Ready?”

“Yes.” Your voice rung out.

“Participant Ready?”

Before anyone could speak, you spoke for them.

“Participant is ready.”

“All Parties Set. Commencing Insertion.”

˚ʚ ꒰GORE WARNING!! GORE STARTS HERE!!꒱ ɞ˚

Metal wires suddenly shot out from the floor, causing everyone who could to summon weapons. Unfortunately, you had a plan for that.

Your wires shot out and gripped the visions on everyone who had one, but tightly wrapped around both Aether and Ei, quickly picking them up and throwing them into walls.

“Stand down, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” You warned.

The wires quickly wrapped around the ankles of Maillardet, dragging him forward and making him drop the Gun. Kujo rushed forward but a wire wrapped around her and threw her to the ground.

“Last. Warning.” You said.

They were forced to watch as the vision less man was strapped down to a table that came up front the pit by those wires. Buzz saws and bone saws and needles and others rose from the hole in the ground.

Wires tore at his pants and ripped the boots off his struggling body.

“This is going to hurt. A lot. I don’t personally believe in anesthesia, but feel free to pass out.”

And with that, the first saw turned on and immediately buried itself in his leg, blood spraying and his screams ripping themselves out his throat. You could practically hear the tendons snapping as he cried.

It went until it hit bone, where you moved the buzz saw out of his leg with a sickening *squelch*, pressing the saw into his bone and quickly sawing through.

Everyone - of course, minus Dottore - did their best to look away from the scene, but Kujo couldn’t help the whimper that left her lips when some blood spattered on her face.

After bone, the buzz saw when back to work until the odd cut was completed. It was curved, leaving the front of the lower leg untouched, but the back - up to the upper caff - was completely removed, as well as the ankle and leg. Then the process started all over on the next leg.

“Did you know there was once a surgery with a 300% mortality rate? It was an amputation, much like this one, preformed by a Mr. Robert Liston over two hundred years ago. What happened was his patient died of an infection, his assistant also died of an infection after his fingers had been amputated accidentally, and a witness of shock after the knife came too close. Isn’t that interesting?”

Your words echoed through the chamber over the cries of Maillardet who just lost his other lower leg.

The two amputated leg parts were picked up by robotic claws which threw them into the hole below. Then, two odd looking boots were raised from said hole.

The class took the boots apart and began to assemble them on the man’s body. They were a solid white with black base and a weird black wire at rhetorical back.

The screams grew worse - then silent after Maillardet finally passed out due to pain - as the black wire - which was connected to the black base - was drilled into what was left of the bone. The wire was then shifted, then grafted into the muscle and bone.

The white part was reattached to the black, the straps tightening against what was left of the skin, before it was literally melted onto the boot.

The smell of burning skin, bones and blood filled the room.

“See, wasn’t that easy?”

His body was thrown off the table and next to the Gun.

The wires let go of everyone, and Aether landed on the floor, passed out.

˚ʚ ꒰GORE OVER GORE OVER!! YOU’RE SAFE!!꒱ ɞ˚

“Why aren’t my abilities working..?” Ei wondered aloud while helping Kujo to her feet.

“You think I wouldn’t recognize a God? News Travels, Beel. We have a few protocols in case a God were to ever wonder into our wonderful facility, but I don’t think I feel like telling you exactly what’s happening to you.”

She quickly looked up above the still open hole in the ground with a glare.

“Stop being a coward and reveal yourself.” She hissed.

“If you insist.”

The lights suddenly turned on, blinding all who were awake.

Dottore stared on in wonder at your body. It resembled that of a human who was suspended from the ceiling. Legs pressed together and arms bound behind them with their back to the floor.

It was the most beautiful piece of machinery he had ever seen.

You slowly turned to face them, the orange light of your eye glaring down at them.

“Let me formally introduce myself, this time without the assistance of a recording. This body you see before you has been dubbed the “Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System”. GLaDOS for short. Though if you prefer it, (y/n) is not off the table.”

“Where… is Wheatley?” Kujo suddenly asked.

“I figured you wouldn’t like him. How shocking you ask. But if you must know… You’re free to reveal yourself.” You mussed.

Silently, the core rode in on a rail in the background on a catwalk. He looks away.

“You’ve payed me back enough, moron. You no longer hold a debt.”

The room was silent.

He had… he betrayed them?

People he didn’t even know?

“… I still feel the itch, you know..?”

Your large head turned to face the blue eyed core.

“I know I’m not the smartest… but I still feel

The itch. It’s like it’s at the back of my brain… and you know what needs to be done to fix it. Please allow me to stay. I won’t… I won’t muck up as bad as I did last time.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

He felt bad and everyone could tell, but you knew that the need to test was able to push back all other thoughts. All other emotions.

It changed people. No matter if they were made of flesh or metal.

And addiction is an addiction. No matter what.

It wouldn’t go away with a bit of cold turkey quitting. That always came with side effects.

The silence was deafening.

If you could smile, you would.

“If you want. I may have final say, but my control over the cores is loose.”

Your gaze turned back to the group who had huddled themselves in a corner, glaring at you.

But you noticed Dottore was staring with less hatred and more… curiosity.

Like a child.

“You understand why I did what I did, don’t you?” Your voice was cold, yet still somehow held some kind of twisted warmth.

“It was to make him stronger. He can survive tests without a hitch now. As soon as he recovers, we’ll be able to continue testing without a hitch. You’ll each be given a relaxation pod while we wait. I’ll be holding up the end of my deal.” You turned away and focused on the screens behind you.

“What… are you..?” Ei asked.

“I thought I answered that question. I am GLaDOS. I am (y/n). I am the current head of Aperture Science.” You turned back to the group.

“And as long as you’re here under my care, I can assure you that we’ll have loads of fun.“

Everyone who was awake was suddenly knocked out by the gas you had been silently filled the room with.

It was time for testing to begin.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : I hope this is good! Ima be honest, don’t know if any of the explanations for anything that was explained make sense lol. Also, don’t forget to tell me if you were okay with the whole (y/n) thing! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

This is just in case nothing more gets requested: (y/n)’s transformation went like this: human (Cave’s assistant), mascot (first take on GLaDOS-like system, success), GLaDOS (Cave asked for them [they retained their human personality and memories as the mascot] to be GLaDOS while he was dying, like in the cannon)

Now I’m gonna spend some time on Requests! After which I’ll start on Mora!Creator! Again, I hope you enjoyed! ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

And don’t be scared to request any Automation Reader (Executioner or GLaDOS) okay bye-

[aliorsboxostuff]

Idk if u will do this request but! Miguel’s time is like futuristic set right? ( trans people would just transition and be more accepted in this timeline sí right? 😭) so Miguel He went to college at a high prestige science university and so did reader for he is too an smart as him with his own creations in robotics and chemistry. Miguel had tried to get alone room accommodation but failed and got partnered up with transftm!reader and they became roommates. Reader fell in love with Miguel but he didn’t notice cuz he was too focused on his work and whatever. Years go by aka spider verse but suddenly miguel needs help from his old college roommate. Angst fluff maybe…smut??? Sorry English isn’t my first language 😭😭

Hey anon! I appreciate the idea and i love how much you fleshed it out! Dont worry, i completely understand your vision, and i get it english is hard for me too lol i hope i got your ideas right tho, sorry this turned into angst more than what i was aiming lmao enjoy all!

History

Tags: Miguel O’hara x FTM!Reader, Villain!Reader, Lyla, Past Relationship, Angst, Falling Out, Fighting, Arguments, Dirty Thoughts, Meet-Cute, Pining, Secret Crushes, Miguel is as dense as ever, poor reader on this one HAHA

They had a history. Of living together, spending time with each other, but despite all of that it all went downhill. Who knew your ex-roommate turns out to be Doc Oct

(Takes place before Post Credit Scene in into the Spiderverse)

—

"Miguel, I hate to tell you this but we can't-"

"There has to be another way, you designed this Lyla!"

"Hey! Don't blame the AI, blame the maker! I only followed what you said!" 

Lyla huffs and glitches to another part of the console. Miguel is currently hunched over a table in the corner of his lair, the only light illuminating his project is the light rod over his workbench and the monitors around him. 

The girl busies herself with schematics, working out equations and trying to find where they went wrong.

Miguel's latest work on the multiverse brace is to eliminate the glitches that it makes whenever someone uses it. It could potentially lead to wounds from the cells traveling to a different world, and even the healing factor won't fix it. Worst-case scenario, it would lead to a fatal wound, possibly death, and Miguel can't risk that if he's gonna start interdimensional travel. 

His eyes scan over the chip connected to his computer, adding and removing codings that might've gone wrong. He's wearing the headband Lyla gifted him, or mailed to him when it was his birthday months ago, to be exact. 

"I swear the shell is all good, Miguel. It should all contain the molecules needed for the portal bracelet,"

"Can you please stop calling it that?" 

"What? 'Portal'?"

"Yes. It's not a portal, we already have that," Miguel rolls his eyes, gluing them back to the screen.

"Then what are we calling it?" Lyla pouts, adjusting her heart glasses.

"Transdimensional Pathfinding Wristlet."

Lyla pauses her work, and turns to Miguel, her brows raised, the blinks once, twice. "Wh- seriously?" 

"Y'know what, I'm not even gonna try," He shakes her head before glitching to another monitor. "Leave it to the crazy scientist to name his things,"

Miguel ignores what his AI had said, instead focusing back on the chip. If this succeeds, it’ll be the first dimensional trip the prototype could make, and he’d prefer not to be a piece of burnt toast once he comes out of it. He coded another line, before he ran a diagnostic. The screen glares red, the annoyingly big letters of ‘ERROR’ pops up.

Miguel blinks, before he feels his claws coming out, promptly making him stand and throw his chair across the room. It shatters, the metal pieces clinking to the concrete floor. He heaves, sharp fangs bared, barely causing anger at his fingertips. 

Lyla fixes him with a look. “That your fifth chair Miguel,”

The man takes a steady breath, wiping his hand across his face, working at his jaw. He tilts his head sharply and something pops. He faintly hears Lyla clicking her tongue. 

"There's a guy I know,"

—

"What do you mean there isn't any- I booked a single room last week," 

"I'm sorry but there must've been a mishap in the system. I'm going to have to put you with an available roommate," 

"I don't want-" Miguel sighs, tapping his foot insistently. "Look, is there any way I can register for another single room?" 

"You can wait a couple of weeks for a vacant room, but you'd need to consult with the head of the faculty." She nodded to him, a regretful look behind those blonde bangs. Miguel huffs, hands on his hips, thinking out a decision. 

"Fine," He groans. "Who's still available for a roommate then?" 

The girl's brows raise before she quickly types something into the computer, reading out what looks like a list with numbers and names. "Oh!" She smiles. "Room 304, on the third floor is still awaiting a roommate,"

"Great, thank you," Miguel grumbles, already picking up his boxes where he left them on the floor.

"If you'd like-" The girl calls for him again. "I can talk to the faculty member, see if I can help you with the room situation," 

"Sure, I'd appreciate it," Miguel's back is already turned to her as he makes his way to the building's elevator. With his gym bag slung over his shoulder, and the boxes of his unfinished work, traversing the hallway takes a bit of an effort. Students were not mingling around because most of them were already in their rooms, with the time turning just after 5 PM. 

Finally, he reaches the elevator doors. Miguel shuffles the boxes into one hand, struggling to press the button before he is beaten to it by another hand reaching for the ascend button too. 

"Here man, let me help you," The person says, already picking up the two boxes that cover Miguel's vision even before he said anything.

"Hey don't-" He begins, before he finally gets a good look at the person that dared to touch his scraps. The man in front of him, standing just inches taller than him, hair with an unintelligible style, captivating eyes and the faintest smirk on his lips. 

Miguel's brain stutters a bit. "I'm- nevermind, thanks," 

"Of course dude," And Miguel's interest plummets. "What floor?"

"Third please," He nods, pressing the button once he and Miguel get in. The door closes and leaves the two in silence, only the faint whirr of the elevator's machine. 

"So, late to dorm assignments?" 

"Nah, they messed up my request," 

"Shit, really?" He turns to Miguel, his brows furrowed. 

"Yeah, now I'm stuck with a damn roomie,"

"Oh yeah? What room?" 

"304, apparently," Miguel huffs, looking down into the box he's carrying, the tape on it peeling slightly. The guy halts, now his brows are raised. 

Miguel's turn to look confused, before the guy chuckles lightly. "Funny you say that 'cuz," 

"I'm room 304," He smirks, readjusting the boxes. 

There's a pause, before he feels the red of embarrassment gathers on his cheeks. "You're-" 

"That damn roomie? Yeah,"

"Fuck, sorry I didn't-"

"No no, it's fine! Really," The guy laughs, shaking his head while Miguel tries to formulate a coherent sentence. "I don't mind man, I get wanting your own space though," 

"Hey, I hope I'll be a good roomie," He bumps Miguel's shoulder lightly, his smile not fading. Miguel finds himself mimicking it slightly. After that, he introduced himself to Miguel, his major and such.

The elevator opens just after that, the two make their way down the hallway. He asks about Miguel's major too, just as they reach the door. 

"I seriously didn't think I'd get a roomie," He chuckles, turning the key with a million other key chains. It jingles, before he pushes the door open and into the room. "I'll go check with the front desk-" 

"Oh!" He turns after putting down the two boxes he was carrying. "Just got the text, said they'll give you the key tomorrow," 

"Great," Miguel rolls his eyes, putting down his box on the vacant desk and his duffle on the chair. He turns, inspecting the room that he's been sent to stay in. One side is already cluttered with his roommate's stuff, plants and books and papers strewn about. He tilts his head when he spots a flag on his desk.

"You're trans?" Miguel asks, turning to him where he was still standing with his phone out. He hums and lifts his head, meeting Miguel's browns.

"Oh that old thing? Yeah," He scratches the back of his neck. "I know, I get it. No one really cares nowadays, the worlds moved on, whatever," 

He glances at the little flag, pink and white and blue adding color to the messy desk. He smiles. "It's a reminder, I guess," 

Miguel stares at the flag, just once, before he nods and shrugs, turning to open his boxes. "Sure, that's cool," 

He can practically feel the sunshine radiating from his roommate behind him. He crosses his arms, turning again to face him, and he's right because his roommate has a really bright smile. "I hope we'll be good friends, Miguel," 

—

"Miguel there's so many people in Nueva York how am I supposed to-'' Lyla stops, before she grins. "Nevermind, found him!" 

Miguel finishes his spider shot, cracking his neck again as he sets the syringe down. He turns towards Lyla, the AI already projecting the location. "Looks like our guy lives in… the slums? I thought you said he was a prodigy," 

"Yeah well not everyone gets a decent job even if they are a genius," Miguel huffs, running his hand through his hair as he looks at the mirror.

"Who's you said the guy was again?" Lyla begins to scroll through the data. 

Miguel sighs. "Old roommate, back in college," 

"Ooh, interesting," She giggles.

"Lyla don't-" 

"I'm not looking through his history! Just a peek, though," 

Miguel lets out another sigh, walking towards the large opened window. "Uh, hey Miguel, are you sure about this?" 

"Why what's wrong?" 

Lyla displays her screen as it glitches in front of Miguel. According to her research, the old roomie has been caught by the police stealing items from hardware stores and electronic stores, a handful of accounts of disruption of peace according to the other tenants in his old apartment. And he's currently deemed missing.

"Where did you say his location was?" Miguel reads through the file, his brows knitted. 

"Just here, some abandoned warehouse in the slums," 

—

“Miguel, man, you’ve got to eat,” A tray for warm food was suddenly placed between Miguel's paperwork. He huffs, pushing the plate away and to the edge of his already small table. He hears a sigh, before the plate is moved out of his peripherals, and Miguel is back into his work.

“Dude, you only ate like, one energy bar after going to the gym,” 

“I’m fine,” 

Another exasperated sigh, before his roommate goes back to whatever robotics he was working on. Miguel has been perfecting his latest assignment the whole week, going back and forth on his computer, writing down research papers and consulting with his professors. Meanwhile, the man that he shares his room with is tinkering with a recent robotic piece he’s been pouring his heart into.

It’s correct that they share most of their schedule together. Miguel would wake up before dawn, and so would he. They’d run a couple of laps around campus before hitting the gym just before it gets too crowded. He’d spot for Miguel while Miguel would comment on his form if it needs any improvement. Sometimes they’d share breakfast together, before they head for their different classes, though ever since Miguel has been engrossed in his recent paperwork, their time spent together has been blessed. It'd be a lie to say Miguel doesn't miss their shared time, but he supposes seeing him back in their room after a long day is enough. Though, it doesn't seem enough for his friend. 

Unbeknownst to Miguel, his roommates have been supporting a devastating crush on him. Stolen glances, longing eyes whenever Miguel's back is turned towards him. Times when he’d stare a bit too long whenever Miguel was doing his bench presses, times when he’d stand close just to feel the comforting warmth beside him. He’d fuss over Miguel, bringing food or drinks, bringing things Miguel might've forgotten with his busy schedule. Sometimes, when Miguel worked too late and too much, he’d fall asleep on his desk, at which he’d bring his blanket to cover Miguel’s back. In the morning, he rolls his eyes and says something about Miguel getting a bad back, which Miguel would promptly ignore. 

It’s currently Friday night. The man that's sitting on the opposite side of the room has seemingly lost interest in his robotics and decided to peer out of their bedroom window. Suddenly, Miguel is bombarded by a loud shout coming from outside of their room, and snaps quickly to the source. He sees his roommate has opened the bedroom window and is looking out into the campus’ courtyard. 

“Yeah, I'll join you! Be right down!” He hollers, before he shuts and locks the window. Miguel turns, blinking away the slight dizziness he got. 

“Who was that?” 

“A friend, they're having a party at one of the frat houses, you wanna join?” He grins, pulling on his leather jacket and pocketing his belongings. Miguel has never been to a party and he's not about to start going, especially when he has a deadline to push. He shakes his head, always swiveling back his chair. 

“No thanks,” 

He hears his friend scoff. “Come on Miguel! You’ve been working on that thing for ages now, you deserve a break, and the deadline isn't for another month!” 

“I’m not interested,” Miguel bites back, barely glancing at his pleas. 

“Just this once, I promise it’ll be fun! I’ll be there and I can take care of-”

“I said I'm not interested.” He spits out, already hunching into the part he’s soldiering. He doesn't hear anything, not an answer or another push for him to join. The air has changed, something heavy hangs between them. The tension is palpable, but despite it all Miguel only hears the shuffling of his friend's boots. 

“Sure, whatever,” His roommate fixes a stare at the back of Miguel's head, before he unlocks their door. “Y’know, one of these days that work of yours is going to destroy you if you're not careful,” 

And with that, he leaves Miguel alone for the night. 

—

“What the fuck!” Miguel jumps and manages to hold on to the side of the building. “Lyla searches for his weakness points!”

“Hah! You think this has a weakness, Miguel?!” The man shouts, a wide grin on his lips. “I’ve perfected these arms, they are practically indestructible!” 

“SO this is how you greet your old roommate?” 

“I’d prefer for us to meet for coffee, but after how you treated me, I think this…” He brings a menacing robotic arm towards him, as if to inspect it. “Is way better,” 

The arm suddenly lunges towards Miguel which he narrowly avoids. He jumps and entwines two of the appendages together as he lands behind the man, at which he growls and breaks free of Miguel’s red webs. “I never treated you badly!”

“No, not really huh,” He smirks. “But you never noticed the shit I did for you anyways!” 

He spears those sharp arms towards Miguel which he does a couple of doges before jumping down the rooftop they were currently fighting on. 

“All of those morning coffees, late dinners, all for nothing! None! All because you were so fucking focused-” He sharply turns, grabbing Miguel’s wrist and stopping him from dropping a punch. He suddenly pulls Miguel towards him, burning anger behind those eyes. “On combining a damn spider's DNA with yourself!” 

He throws the Spiderman across the street, breaking several walls until the momentum finally stops. Miguel groans, cracking his neck when Lyla suddenly pops up. “Boss, the control panel for those arms is on his back, if you could pull it apart from him, it’ll stop him from controlling it,”

“On it.” Miguel swiftly stands, running through the many rooms he passed before leaping into the air, catching the man off guard. He throws a punch that lands on his face, throwing him off balance and into the concrete street below. He grows, and fixes his jaw, before launching back to full force against Miguel. 

“It was all fine until you went out with that fucking brunette!” He shouts, throwing debris towards Miguel which he weaves and dodges. “Did I ever mean anything to you?!”

He’s got Miguel pinned to the ground, and pushes all of the arms to stab at him, but instead misses and gets buried in the ground instead when Miguel swiftly pulls away with his web. He struggles to get the appendages out of the strong concrete, suddenly finding them stuck, an opportunity for Miguel to rip the control panel off. He swings above the man, landing directly behind him where he quickly digs his nails into the seams of the panel. 

“I’m sorry,” Miguel manages before he pulls. An ear-splitting scream, before deathly silence. Miguel could only hear his heavy breath, before sparks of green ran through the man's body, and it jolted him. He shouts, before falling into the pavement. Miguel takes a beat to examine the control panel, before throwing it somewhere on the ground. He spots the bareback of his once roommate, a horrid sight of root-like marks growing around the man's back. Miguel furrows his brows, before he hears the faint police sirens, no doubt coming over to clean up the commotion. 

Just as Miguel was about to make his leave, he heard the man cough, a horrid groan behind him. Miguel glances slightly, as he hears him begin to speak. 

“I was right… Your work did destroy you.”

Requests are opened! Remember to reblog!

[comshipbracket]

Antis DNI - Block the tag "comship" if this causes discomfort.

Decade x Parado artist verbally wished to not be credited over call with me, but was okay with the image being used.

Remember, you are voting for the ship you prefer, not the ship you find more problematic

Propaganda for both ships under the cut.

Disclaimer: All propaganda is follower-submitted and we do not always have time to fact-check this propaganda. There may be errors. As well as this, Comship does not have to be Darkship, so large age gaps between adults, pseudo-incest, indirect incest, humanoid alien x human, etc. will be counted as acceptable for this bracket.

Shinji x EVA01 Propaganda (Species Difference - Human x Organic Robot, Human x Alien, Age Gap - MinorxAdult, MechxPilot, Abusive Dynamic, Pseudoincest)

"I'll get this out of the way now: Eva 01 is implied to hold the soul of Yui Ikari, Shinji's mother, so all the weirdness that comes with that is quietly implicit. getting to the actual good stuff now: Shinji and the Eva exist within a situation where there is no way for this to be healthy. In order to interact at all, Shinji, a 14 year old boy, MUST be either put directly in danger to fight the angels, or he is being put through military training and given entirely too much responsibility and ANTICIPATING having to fight the angels. Shinji has repeatedly expressed not wanting to pilot 01, yet there's a constant press from both the situation and his own need to be useful that makes him kind of Want to be a pilot, too. The two are seperate characters, yet not entirely; in order to pilot, shinji has to Sync with the eva; they feel eachother's movements, with shinji serving as a control brain of sorts. how? by being shoved directly into the eva's spine, of course! although we are never told how 01 feels about it, we know from unit 00's reaction to control that it's likely not a pleasant experience for them. furthermore, the evas must be constantly kept in skin-tight armor and are routinely kept completely restrained within the building, meaning that shinji's piloting it outside to fight angels are quite literally the eva's ONLY chance to move around. throughout the series, a sort of dependancy forms between the two on shinji's end, with shinji often coming to treat the eva as both a safe place where he can mean something, And a tool which he can use to reach his ends."

SunSalt Propaganda (Unhealthy Dynamic, Age Gap - TeenxChild)

"In Happy Sugar Life, Shio for the most part is kept inside by Satou - However, one night she manages to escape from the apartment and runs into Taiyou. Taiyou feels like he needs to be cleansed after a traumatic experience, and Shio pats his head, helping him feel better.

He instantly falls for her. He feels like Shio is the only one who can purify him, to the point of stealing her missing posters and trying to find any way to meet her again, either locking himself in his room to stare at those posters for the entirety of the day, or talking to those he feels may be useful in helping him discover where Shio is.

Shio herself, while loving Satou, seems to light up at the idea of being able to see Taiyou again when she confesses meeting him to Satou and she focuses on Shio's happiness. While she finds Taiyou a little weird, she also considers him friendly, and her lack of experience in the world due to Satou may allow those feelings to become warped.

When Taiyou tried to overcome his affection for Shio, Satou used a sock Shio owned to drive him back into the depths of his affection and manipulate him, promising him the chance to meet with Shio once more, resulting in him hearing her out. Taiyou adores Shio."

[neobah]

Requested by 🥇🪶

— Name: Dahlia, Magnolia, Ophelia, Genevieve, Vivian, Celestria, Caroline — Age: Teenager, 16 — Pronouns: She/Her, Tech/Techs, Sxe/Hxr, Glitch/Glitches, Xe/Xer, Exe/Exes, Txt/Txts, Png/Pngs, File/Files, Err/Error, Shy/Hyr, URL/URLs — Gender: Demigirl, Digiminalwebic, Gendercodex, HTMLgender, Gendersoftware, Webirus, Webcorething — Orientation: Neptunic — Species: Non-human Robotkin

— Personality: She is very calm and collected, and is very kind and caring towards everything and everyone. She is always on top of her duties and is ready to push through everything that comes hxr way. — Likes: Coding, Laser Tag, Documentaries, Hair Styling/Cosmetology — Dislikes: Skeletons, Politics, Competition, Trains

— Source(s): OCtive from 🥇🪶 — Emojis: 🧪🔬🔭☄️🫐🧊❄️📱📡 — Role(s): Announcer, Retriever, Comforter — Extras: Robot+Creator Nichelink

— Faceclaims: Image 1 CR: ZumiZumi1254 on IG | X Image 2 CR: RedNote ID 498050722

I hope this is to your liking! I've never done a BAH of someone's OC before, but it was fun <3 Sorry it took so long!

[19thperson]

19th's Steam Next Fest Impressions Jun 2025 Edition - Day 3

Day 1/Day 2

Aeromachina

A 3d Metroidvana Action Platformer

In a post human-extinction sci-fi setting, you play as one of those airplane furries, exploring a military facility and fighting other robots… there's not much plot in the demo. It's just "we're putting you in a training simulation."

Thankfully it doesn't need it. The base systems are enough of a hook.

Combat is extremely lite DMC style. You won't be using a really big moveset, but you'll use both melee and guns to air juggle enemies and strafe around attacks. It all comes pretty intuitively.

The base kit felt like a well tuned 3d platformer. The first upgrade you get is a glider, and it really opens up your movement options. You get that really satisfying momentum building of chaining a dash into a jump into a glide to cover a huge amount of space. The game has got the schmovement.

The game has plenty of hidden stuff and backtracking, paying more than lipservice to the metroidvania tag. The only issue is that enemies respawn when you leave the room, versus either the dark souls style of respwaning at saves, or waiting until the player is several rooms away. It can make backtracking annoying. But otherwise a really promising title.

Escape Velocity

A Portal-like about Demoman grenade jumping.

You're an ant guy in a bomb factory that, after an attack by an enemy planet, and is falling apart. Escape using your trusty grenade launcher.

The core restriction the player faces is that they cannot jump. If you want air, your only choice is launching yourself with a bomb or a pre-existing launcher in the environment. I do like that there's a built in indicator that shows what the arc of your jump is going to be. For something normally fiddly like a rocket jump, this is a really good quality of life feature.

The main obstacles are spheres of "antigold," bombs that detonate in contact with either living things or gold, for some reason. Thankfully your boss handed out shitty gold plated trophies instead of healthcare, so there's plenty to toss around to clear the way.

There's also ultrasteel, which has to be melted by a special acid. In practice, it's the same "bring x object to y obstacle," but you can't carry this one, so you have to rely on pipes and launchers.

Right now the game is at a kind of crossroads. It can aim to be a dense puzzler, creating much trickier rooms to figure out, or it could lean into being a platformer, asking for more precise use of the grenade jump. Right now, it's not asking enough in either aspect. It's too easy.

Still has a lot of good potential though.

NODE: The Last Favor of the Antarii

A programming puzzle platformer.

The year is 2035, and a long abandoned soviet nucelar site suddenly goes active, flooding the surrounding environment with radiation. It's severe enough to be fatal for any human personell, the EMP waves it sends off disable most drones trying to approach the building.

To get around this, they send in a semi-autonomous robot meant for a mars mission, already designed to handle the cosmic radiation interference in space. But they still need to use a minimal delayed input system to actually transmit orders.

In practice, that involves a system of programming moves ahead of time. move forward 5.8 seconds. jump. brake. hit the "use" option top activate the elevator. turn, etc. This involves an inherent amount of trial and error, especially since you can't see too far ahead, but it's ameliorated by each platforming segment being relatively short.

There's some mystery and bigger ideas going on with the narrative. Few seem to have known about this plant even existed, and no one knows why it's melting down now. Alongside that is some themes of free will and AI personhood, with the titular NODE being an autonomous robot capable of communicating and acting on their own, but still reliant on orders. It seems there might be plot branches based on their dialogue choices.

I really hope this game sticks the landing.

Mina the Hollower

Zelda by way of Castlevania from the devs of Shovel Knight.

The plot is simple so far. You play as the titular Mina the Hollower, one who "studies the secrets of the earth." Years ago she built 6 generator towers on the island of Ossex, and now she's been called back as they've stopped working. Also there are monsters and a revolt happening. It seems there will be a non-linear "tackle the towers in any order" thing going on.

Game plays like you'd expect a combination of castlevania and zelda. You have a choice of main arms for primary melee, so there's a bit of variance going on: a chargeable hammer, a rapid fire set of daggers, and a morning star whip. (Considering the coverage you get I do not understand why you wouldn't choose the latter.) Aside from that you have ammo limited sidearms that are projectiles. The first one you get is an axe you throw in an arc.

The main movement gimmick is the ability to burrow into the ground and launch yourself up in the air. This is used both for platforming challenges and a good amount of secret placement, sliding into otherwise missable slots in the wall. No complaints here.

The main complaint is that the game relies on verticality… but it's still sticking to it's faux-NES guns. So there are times where the verticality is ambiguous. Hitting airborne enemies can sometimes be finicky, and some ledges it's hard to tell at a glance whether they're above or below. These are problems that solve themselves quickly, but it's still mildly annoying.

Still, it seems that Yacht Club games has kept their usual level of polish. Probably will be a lot to check out here.

Echomnesia

Is it incomprehensible because it's a mysterious story?

Is it incomprehensible because it's poorly written?

Is it incomprehensible because it was poorly translated from Russian?

Perhaps all three?

I finished it, so I'm putting it up here.

No more notes.

Baby Steps

The sequel to QWOP and Getting Over It.

You play as a bumbling Large Adult Son who zapped into Some Other Place and have to guide him home, controlling his legs one at a time.

I was not expecting this game to be open world. Or at least to allow me to go so far off the beaten path. I'm not sure if that combines well with this sorta frustration game. I can see someone who wants to see everything chafing hard against the inherent movement restrictions.

I really liked Breath of The Wild's climbing because you needed to get really intimate with the level geometry to find stable rest points. I'm getting a bit of that feeling here too, looking for ideal foot placement to get through uneven ground.

The game is funny up until the moment characters start talking, then all the humor saps away.

Kleopatra

An...abstracted rail shooter RPG?

You play as the imperial agent Hatori, hunting down the rebel Espada in the lawless moon city of Kleopatra. It's Cyberpunk. So far not much "deeper" going on in the demo, save for some vaguely implied history near the start, but it might expand later.

Combat shows three cards on the field, split into head and body. Click them to attack them. Body shots do less damage, but each body shot increases the chance of a headshot actually landing. Each character has a progress bar for their attacks, and you need to press the dodge button in time as they fill. Use the katana button to stagger the opponents, slowing down their bar. Kill everyone within a time limit.

Juggling all that kinda made my hand start to cramp.

There's something interesting and arcadey here, but I still need practice to fully wrap my head around it.

Of course, as I'm writing this, I noticed the steam page say that the characters and backgrounds were AI generated and human edited. Which is... great.

Interesting concept though.

[globosetechnologysolutionspvt]

The Role of an Image Annotation Company in Enhancing AI Precision

Introduction

The effectiveness of Artificial Intelligence (AI) is fundamentally dependent on the quality of the data it processes, with Image Annotation Company being pivotal in elevating AI precision. Whether in autonomous vehicles, medical diagnostics, or online retail, AI systems require accurately labeled images to operate optimally. This is where an image annotation company can significantly contribute.

The Significance of Quality Image Annotation

For AI to accurately interpret and analyze visual information, it necessitates labeled images that convey valuable insights. High-quality annotations enable machine learning models to:

Precisely identify objects.

Distinguish between similar items.

Recognize anomalies in intricate settings.

Enhance decision-making based on real-world contexts.

Methods to Improve AI Precision

An image annotation company utilizes a variety of methods to boost AI precision, including:

Bounding Boxes: Essential for object detection, bounding boxes assist AI models in identifying and locating objects within images.

 Semantic Segmentation: This technique divides an image into various regions, allowing AI to recognize distinct objects and comprehend contextual relationships.

Key Points and Landmark Annotation: Crucial for applications in facial recognition and pose estimation.

3D Cuboids: Employed in autonomous vehicles and robotics to facilitate depth perception and spatial awareness.

Polygon Annotation: For objects with irregular shapes, polygons provide detailed outlines, enhancing accuracy in object recognition.

The Impact of Image Annotation on AI Performance

AI models require extensive labeled data to refine their algorithms and reduce errors. By collaborating with an image annotation company, organizations can:

Improve Model Training: Well-annotated images accelerate AI learning and enhance accuracy.

Mitigate Bias in AI: Ensuring diverse and unbiased datasets fosters fairer AI predictions.

Boost Automation Efficiency: High-quality data annotations enhance the effectiveness of AI automation.

Industries Benefiting from Image Annotation

The demand for accurate image annotation is prevalent across various sectors:

Autonomous Vehicles – Self-driving cars powered by artificial intelligence depend on annotated images for tasks such as object recognition, lane detection, and identifying pedestrians.

Healthcare & Medical Imaging – Annotated medical images, including X-rays, MRIs, and CT scans, play a crucial role in diagnosing diseases and facilitating medical assessments.

Retail & E-Commerce – Features like product tagging and visual search enhance the online shopping experience for consumers.

Agriculture – AI-based solutions for monitoring crops, detecting pests, and predicting yields are supported by annotated images in the agricultural sector.

Why Collaborate with an Image Annotation Company?

Collaborating with a specialized image annotation company guarantees high levels of accuracy, consistency, and scalability. Professional annotation services offer:

Access to experienced annotators with relevant industry knowledge.

State-of-the-art annotation tools and rigorous quality control processes.

Scalable solutions capable of efficiently managing large datasets.

Conclusion

Artificial intelligence models significantly depend on well-annotated images to operate effectively. By partnering with a professional image annotation company, organizations can ensure their AI systems are equipped with high-quality data, resulting in enhanced accuracy, improved decision-making, and greater efficiency. Whether in healthcare, automotive, or retail, investing in superior image annotation is essential for realizing the full potential of AI.

How GTS.AI Make Your Project Complete?

Globose Technology Solutions is integral to our professional environment, offering high-quality, scalable, and accurate image annotation solutions that support AI models across various sectors. Its sophisticated annotation tools—including bounding boxes, semantic segmentation, and 3D cuboids—guarantee precision in training datasets for applications such as autonomous vehicles, healthcare diagnostics, and e-commerce. By utilizing AI-assisted annotation, automated quality control, and a proficient workforce, gts.ai improves efficiency, minimizes bias, and expedites AI development. Its cloud-based workflow facilitates seamless collaboration, enhancing the reliability and effectiveness of AI training, and ultimately influencing the future of intelligent automation.!

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Key Factors to Consider When Choosing an X-Ray Inspection System

X-ray inspection systems have become indispensable in industries like manufacturing, electronics, food processing, and aerospace, offering unparalleled accuracy in detecting defects and ensuring quality control. However, selecting the right X-ray inspection system can be a challenging task, given the variety of options available in the market. Choosing the wrong system can lead to inefficiencies, higher costs, and potential risks to your production process. To help you make an informed decision, this article outlines the key factors to consider when selecting an X-ray inspection system for your needs.

1. Industry-Specific Requirements

Different industries have unique demands when it comes to X-ray inspection. The system you choose should be tailored to the specific requirements of your sector.

Food Industry: Systems must detect foreign objects like metal, glass, and bone while meeting strict regulatory standards.

Electronics: High-resolution systems are essential for inspecting solder joints, PCBs, and micro-components.

Aerospace and Automotive: Systems need to detect internal cracks or voids in critical components to ensure safety.

Understanding your industry’s specific requirements will help you narrow down options and select the most suitable system.

2. Inspection Resolution and Sensitivity

The resolution and sensitivity of an X-ray inspection system determine its ability to detect small or subtle defects. High-resolution systems are crucial for industries like electronics and aerospace, where even minute defects can have significant consequences.

Key Considerations:

Check the resolution of the detector and the size of defects the system can identify.

Ensure the system provides consistent sensitivity across varying materials and densities.

Higher resolution often comes with a higher price tag, so balance your needs with your budget.

3. System Throughput and Speed

For industries with high production volumes, the speed and throughput of the X-ray system are critical. A slower system can create bottlenecks, impacting overall efficiency.

Key Considerations:

Evaluate the inspection speed and whether it aligns with your production line’s output.

Check if the system can handle batch or continuous inspections without compromising accuracy.

Some systems are designed for high-speed applications, making them ideal for industries like food processing and packaging.

4. Ease of Integration and Scalability

The X-ray inspection system should integrate seamlessly into your existing production line or workflow. Additionally, it should offer scalability to accommodate future growth or changes in production demands.

Key Considerations:

Ensure the system supports easy integration with current conveyor belts, robotic arms, or other automated systems.

Look for modular designs that allow upgrades or expansion without replacing the entire system.

Seamless integration reduces downtime and ensures smooth operations.

5. Software Capabilities

Modern X-ray systems are equipped with advanced software for analysis, reporting, and automation. The right software can enhance functionality and usability.

Key Features to Look For:

User-friendly interface and intuitive controls.

Automated defect detection using AI or machine learning.

Real-time monitoring and data analysis capabilities.

Compatibility with your existing quality management systems.

Advanced software can significantly reduce human error and improve inspection accuracy.

6. Regulatory Compliance

In industries like food and pharmaceuticals, compliance with regulatory standards is non-negotiable. The X-ray system you choose must meet these standards.

Key Considerations:

Verify that the system adheres to industry-specific regulations such as FDA, HACCP, or ISO certifications.

Ensure it has features like contaminant detection or radiation shielding to meet safety requirements.

Compliance ensures smooth audits and avoids potential legal issues.

7. Maintenance and Support

An X-ray inspection system is a long-term investment that requires regular maintenance and support to perform optimally.

Key Considerations:

Evaluate the manufacturer’s service offerings, including maintenance contracts and warranty terms.

Check for the availability of spare parts and the ease of replacing them.

Ensure the system comes with robust technical support and training resources.

Reliable maintenance and support minimize downtime and extend the system’s lifespan.

8. Cost and Return on Investment (ROI)

While cost is a significant factor, it’s essential to assess the value the system brings to your operations rather than focusing solely on the initial price.

Key Considerations:

Compare the system’s cost with the benefits it offers, such as improved accuracy, reduced waste, and enhanced quality control.

Calculate the potential ROI by factoring in productivity gains, reduced defect rates, and customer satisfaction.

Investing in a high-quality system may involve higher upfront costs but can lead to substantial savings over time.

9. Radiation Safety

X-ray systems emit radiation, which can pose risks if not properly contained. Ensuring the system meets safety standards is vital for protecting operators and complying with regulations.

Key Considerations:

Check for shielding features that minimize radiation exposure.

Ensure the system complies with radiation safety standards such as ANSI or CE certifications.

Proper safety measures create a secure working environment and build trust with employees.

Conclusion

Choosing the right X-ray inspection system is critical for ensuring the efficiency and safety of your production processes. By considering factors such as industry requirements, resolution, throughput, integration, software capabilities, compliance, and cost, you can make an informed decision that aligns with your business needs. Investing in the right system not only improves product quality but also enhances your brand reputation and operational efficiency. Take the time to evaluate your options, and you’ll find an X-ray inspection system that delivers long-term value.

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Image Annotation Services: Unlocking the Potential of Visual Data

Introduction

In the contemporary digital landscape, the volume of visual data is experiencing rapid growth, becoming a fundamental component across various sectors, including healthcare and autonomous vehicles. To fully harness the potential of this data, it is essential to go beyond mere images; it necessitates the inclusion of context, categorization, and labeling. This is where Image Annotation Services play a crucial role, acting as the vital link that transforms raw visual data into actionable insights.

Defining Image Annotation

Image annotation refers to the practice of assigning metadata to images or videos, which may include tags, descriptions, or delineations around significant objects. This process lays the foundation for training machine learning models, thereby enhancing the ability of algorithms to interpret visual data and generate informed predictions. Such a method is indispensable for sectors that depend on visual data, particularly in applications related to computer vision, artificial intelligence, and automation.

The Importance of Image Annotation Across Various Sectors

Healthcare

In the healthcare sector, image annotation services are of paramount importance. Medical imaging modalities, such as X-rays, MRIs, and CT scans, often present complexities that necessitate expert annotation to aid in diagnostics and treatment strategies. By annotating these images, healthcare professionals can:

Identify abnormalities such as tumors or fractures.

Discern patterns that may indicate specific diseases.

Train artificial intelligence systems to autonomously analyze medical images, thereby reducing diagnosis time.

These annotations also contribute to the development of comprehensive databases for research, ultimately enhancing healthcare systems.

For instance, organizations like GTS AI specialize in providing high-quality and precise image annotation services tailored for medical image processing. Further information regarding their healthcare offerings can be found here.

Autonomous Vehicles

In the field of autonomous vehicles, image annotation plays a vital role in the advancement of self-driving technologies. By identifying and labeling elements such as pedestrians, traffic signals, and other automobiles within images or video footage, these systems enhance their comprehension of the surrounding environment, thereby promoting safety and operational efficiency on the roads.

Retail and E-commerce

In the sectors of retail and e-commerce, visual data significantly contributes to optimizing inventory management and enhancing customer experiences. For example, image annotation can facilitate the categorization of products in online marketplaces, enabling customers to conduct more effective searches or receive recommendations based on visual characteristics.

The Significance of Image Annotation

1. Training AI and Machine Learning Models

Artificial intelligence and machine learning frameworks depend substantially on high-quality labeled datasets to enhance their precision and functionality. Image annotation is crucial for enabling machines to interpret visual information, which in turn allows them to make informed predictions and classifications.

2. Improving Accuracy and Efficiency

Annotated images assist systems in identifying specific objects or patterns, resulting in heightened accuracy. In the healthcare sector, for instance, annotated images are essential for minimizing human error and expediting diagnostic processes.

3. Broadening Applications Across Industries

The demand for precise visual data interpretation is increasing across a variety of fields, from robotics to security. Image annotation is fundamental in developing systems capable of autonomously interpreting and reacting to their environments.

The Future of Image Annotation

As artificial intelligence progresses, the need for annotated visual data is expected to rise significantly. Developments in methodologies and tools, including semi-supervised learning and active learning, are likely to improve the efficiency of the annotation process. Furthermore, enhancements in deep learning algorithms will facilitate the ability of machines to identify and label images with reduced human involvement.

Nevertheless, despite these technological advancements, human expertise will continue to be crucial in numerous scenarios, particularly in fields that require specialized knowledge, such as healthcare. High-quality annotations provided by experts guarantee that the data remains accurate and meaningful.

Conclusion

Image annotation services serve as more than just a component of the machine learning workflow; they are vital for unlocking the complete potential of visual data. Whether it involves revolutionizing healthcare, supporting autonomous driving, or enhancing retail operations, annotated images enable industries to make informed, data-driven decisions and foster innovation at a faster pace. As technology evolves, the necessity for image annotation services will persist, solidifying their role as a fundamental aspect of digital transformation.

For those seeking to leverage the power of visual data and require dependable image annotation services, organizations like GTS AI provide specialized solutions designed for sectors such as healthcare, ensuring precision and efficiency in every annotation.

Discover more about their offerings here.