#data sentry

[lunex-the-cat]

It took 20 million years but I finally gave this bastard the update he deserves.

#undertale #skeleton #utmv #utau #pocket void #data sentry #arson #data sentry arson #LunexArt #Arson was the very first background sentry I designed. Seeing my improvement over time with each new batch I designed #I could /Not/ just leave Arson as a string bean when I had wanted him to be all big in my original idea and can finally execute it #Mainly I figured out how to do buffer physiques specifically on skeletons #I think with this I actually achieved the goal I had when first designing him.

[spooky-donut-ghost-house]

My personal headcanon as to why assaultrons only show up in Fallout 4 and Fallout 76 is that they were still very much a prototype robot that House was making and despite it's blaster head was nowhere near as advance as a mark 2 securitron

He used data from the assaultrons and sentry bots to make the mark 2 OS for the securitrons and views all other robots that he made as inferior in comparison to securitrons

He initially made the assaultrons to combat General Atomics' Mr. Gutsy but the reason why assaultrons were never widely used by The US Military is because House became to absorbed with Vegas to get assaultrons used nation wide

#fallout new vegas #fallout 4 #fallout 76 #mr. house #robert house #robert edwin house #robco #general atomics #mr. gutsy #assaultron #sentry bot #securitron #fnv #fo4 #fo76 #fallout

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev chapter

– – –

The hole doesn’t go away in the pod. 

It was stupid to think that it would. They all watched him die. All of them. They watched his eyes go dull. They watched him collapse to the ground. He swayed, for a moment. Like his body wasn’t quite ready to fall, ready to give up, even as his brain was fried to death. 

He fell forward, in the end. Even though he was against a wall. He tipped right forward, nose smashing to the ground, like he was suddenly top heavy. None of them were fast enough to catch him. None of them were fast enough to even move, not for several moments, not for so long that they would have been killed, too, if their helmets had been cracked like Lance’s.

The worst part was that he laid there. For who knows how long. Just – by himself, on the ground, arms tucked close to his chest, face to the floor. Like he does when he’s really frustrated with something and needs to feel the weight of his body crushing him a little. Sometimes when he’s really frustrated he does that in front of Keith. He stomps to Keith’s room and flops right on Keith’s bed, careless of how many times he bumps into Keith on the way down, shoves his face in Keith’s pillow and tucks his arms under him. That’s how Keith knows he does it, the arm thing. Because he trusts Keith enough to feel frustrated around him.

It made Keith really guilty. Here he was, fighting off a hoard of Galran soldiers with burning eyes, as Lance lay frustrated behind him. Injured, too. That wasn’t fair. Keith was supposed to be helping. He was supposed to be quietly running his hand over Lance’s back until Lance settled enough to talk. That was his job. He needed to do his job. 

“Room’s thinning out,” Shiro had said quietly. “Keep it up and we’ll be done with this in twenty, okay, guys?”

There was no answer. Not even a twitch of acknowledgement. No one spoke up or grunted or nodded or nothing. Nothing until the final soldier was killed, slashed to pieces by Keith’s blade. Nothing for several moments after, even, as all of them stood still and listless and thoughtless. 

“We must go now,” Allura had announced, finally breaking the silence. “Home. Castle. We must.”

Her words seemed to snap the rest of them into action, each of them stepping over the carnage they made, with half-aborted movements, hesitant and confused. 

“We need the data,” Pidge mumbled. “That we came here for. Before we blow the place.”

Hunk had made a noise. Keith still doesn’t quite know how to describe it. It was gravelly, almost. Scraped raw. Not quite pained, though. Not then. Like a thought had travelled down from his brain to be shared to the group but had shriveled up and died in his throat. Like he wasn’t sure of anything, anymore. 

“I’ll wait with Lance,” Hunk had said softly. “He got hurt. He shouldn’t – he doesn’t like being alone. Not when he’s hurt.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in Keith’s throat, and it took every ounce of strength he had to fight it off, to shove it down somewhere dark and stupid inside him. “Not ever.” 

Keith stumbled over the severed leg of a sentry, on his way to Lance. The sting of his palms smacking on the metal ground zapped right up his arms, making his elbows shake. He struggled to get back to his feet. He thinks he kicked a few more scattered limbs on his way up. He’s not sure. He knows the sound of it rattled around in his brain. 

He and Hunk reached Lance at the same time. The rest of the team had already filed out by then, or at least Keith hadn’t noticed them in the room anymore. Not that he really noticed anything, at that point. At that point, all he was worried about were his hands, gently around Lance’s left arm, hauling him up with Hunk’s help to lean on the wall. Keith and Hunk sat pressed closely to either side of him, propping him upright.

“It’ll be okay, Lance,” Hunk had said quietly. “I’ll carry you back to the castle. And then a couple hours in the healing pod and you’ll be up in no time.”

It’s been six hours, now. None of them have done anything but stand, tired and banged up and exhausted, staring blankly ahead of them. Keith keeps cycling the day over and over in his brain. Somehow, the look on Lance’s face, seconds after the blast burns through his forehead, changes every time. The first time Keith was sure it was fear. Then surprise. Then pain, then exhaustion, then blank nothingness. 

Then, worst of all, accusation. The worst one of them all was the image in Keith’s brain of Lance’s dark brown eyes, sour in their pain, looking at Keith in some kind of betrayal. 

You can’t save me, those eyes said. I looked to you in my last moments and I was scared and I was hurt and I was vulnerable and I wanted to rely on you like you relied on me for months and months and months and you let me die. You killed me. I will never be alive again and it is because you failed me.

Keith has fallen in those spirals before. Lance likes to say that Keith is obsessed with making himself feel guilty before anyone else has the chance to. He’s right, of course. Lance is bossy and sarcastic and incendiary, but he’s right, a lot.

“Children,” Coran says, quiet and sad and wary. “The pods are –” he stops for a minute, choked. “The pods are not machines of miracle.”

“Don’t,” Pidge begs. There are tear tracks dried on her cheeks. “Please. He just needs a couple more hours.”

Coran slumps forward. Keith has never seen him slump, before. He’s always stood tall, heels clicked together. He has stood tall in front of Galran fleets that stretched farther than the eye could see. He has stood tall as the team failed again and again. He has stood tall as his entire planet burned to ashes and he was one of two people to be left to rise among them. 

But now he loses his strength. Standing in front of Lance’s dead fucking body and the dead fucking team he loses his strength. 

“He’s gone,” Keith chokes out, and he can’t hold himself up anymore. His knees buckle and hit the ground, hard, and it hurts but he can barely feel it. 

No one says anything else. No one has to. They stand in front of Lance’s corpse until none of them can anymore, and then they turn, one by one, and go to bed.

– – –

next chapter

#AGAIN LANCE IS NOT DEAD #i promise hes alive and well again in the next chapter okay #i swear it #i just needed to write some heavy grief first #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #klance #pre klance #team as family #grief #langst #keith angst #time loop au #brown-eyed lance #black paladin keith #red paladin lance #hunk & lance #symbolism #my writing #fic #longpost #autistic lance #autistic lance mcclain

[bellygunnr]

Cold Hands

A KR08 piece. I forget which episode this is meant to tag, but it's just also trying to get into KITT3's head.

The command center, for once, is empty. Or as empty as it can be, with security protocol dictating that at least one member be occupying it at all times, especially in the dead of night. Tonight, it is Mike Knight as the lone sentry. A curious development-- a deviation, even, in his behavior. Perhaps Mr. Graiman's absence is an influence?

You ache to know. Silently, you switch on your scanner lights, upping the output until the stretch of the stone bunker you're facing is crimson. Mike's heart rate increases immediately. His breath, once even, hitches, and he turns to face you.

"I thought you were asleep," Mike says. "What's up?"

He abandons his post by pushing out of the chair and coming to stand by your fender. His left hand ghosts across your roof line, but the rest of him is held at arm's length. He looks strange, stretched out like that, like he's nervous to get close.

You consider drawing him in with humor. But the hour is late and he may be exhausted enough to grant you some mercy with your prying.

"You do not usually take the night shift," you say. "Particularly after arduous missions like today."

Mike tilts his head back. This is what he does, you know, when he is posed with a fact he wasn't expecting to confront.

"I just knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, KITT. I got a lot of guns pointed at me today."

Indeed.

You do not know how to compute that. He always has guns pointed at him. Up until this moment, you hadn’t considered it disturbed him.

"So you would have trouble sleeping," you surmise.

He smiles, head still tipped back, gaze fixed on the ceiling. His boots shuffle across the ground, bringing him closer to your chassis, which you start warming to the touch. The nanites are one of the few things that listen to you and you alone.

“Yeah. Yeah, but who doesn’t in this line of work?”

You briefly run the numbers. Not because his rhetorical question forces you to, but because you are curious. You only have organic data on the Graimans, Mike, and the few operatives blessed to have joined You previously. Sarah rarely sleeps soundly. Statistically, disturbed sleep is apparently common in “this line of work.”

Fascinating.

It is so utterly out of your control.

Yet you ache to be of assistance. You crunch ever more numbers and find yourself wanting. Mike leans more heavily against your body, until his torso is flat against your door, arms folded over your roof. He is warm. Perhaps he finds you warm, as well.

“You should rest here. I have been told my seats are quite comfortable.”

They should be, anyway. You can manipulate their form at will.

Mike laughs a little. It echoes. You capture the sound.

“Won’t I get in trouble for sleepin’ on the job, KITT? I thought you didn’t like it when I slacked off.”

You do not like it. His inability to focus on the job left you taskless and bored at the best of times. But just a month ago, he’d flatlined in your care, and just eight hours ago, he’d almost left you again. Conclusion: concessions must be made. Humans operate poorly when their needs are not met.

You open the driver’s door. Mike laughs again, hearing it, and strides around your hood. His hand drags lightly across your scanner cowling, sending reams of data through your processor. All of him leaves flashpoints of color across your matrix as he caves in to your plea and settles into the driver’s seat. 

Several unformed ideas and thoughts skim your brain. You dismiss them harshly.

“Good night, Mike,” you murmur into the sound system.

He mumbles something in acknowledgement, but he’s asleep the moment his head drops back against the seat.

#kr2008 #mike traceur #mike knight #ki3t #k.i.t.t. #knight rider #gunny writes

[microcosme11]

Organization of Napoleon's households

With my bad knowledge of French, I'm reading this. For data hounds out there, you will love this book so much. It includes lists of personnel, amounts of stuff purchased, what food they ate, how many candles, all the sentries, security, etc. I'm skipping a lot of the statistics.

Poor Duroc had a job that was as enormous as Berthier's. There was also Daru, completely overwhelmed with organization. These people deserved any honors they got but even that wouldn't compensate for the stress!

Later--it gets even better with all of the etiquette, the chamberlains, pages, aide-de-camps, etc., who kept people away from Napoleon.

#napoleonic reference books #Napoleon et ses hommes #pierre branda

[petrenocka]

Thanks to violence machene terminal data entries we now know that there are so called eras to the final war.

We know of the first, "Gutterman" era, when machines were fighting along side humans in trenches. The next, Guttertank, era, when machines were fighting machines still on the ground. Then an unknown ammount of other eras later - Earthmover, the last one, an era of city sized machines firing rail system sized rail guns at each other across the horizon and smaller, mobile machines made to take down and protect the big boys from up close, sice due to shield generators they couldn't hurt each other.

So like, what about the machines we knew before Violence?

We know that by the time V series finished development the war has already ended, so who were the mobile guys who actually get to see combat (as intended)?

Hurricane-like swarms of drones and pre-mod future swordsmachines doing their best Attack on Titan impressions are solid contenders. My bet is mindflayers though.

They are super mobile, capable of flying and teleporting/dashing. Smart, creative even, so much so they develop a gender identity. They are the only machines, so far, described by the terminals as "rare". And they also are the only machines using lasers and homing projectiles, seen elsewhere only on the defense systems of Earthmovers, implying those are rather high tech.

(btw, mindflayer terminal data and mannequins imply that the blue orbs are Hell energy, which mindflayers "adapted to" and "mastered", which in turn opens some qestions about the engineering of Earthmovers, considering I'm pretty sure Hell expeditions started after The War.)

Other then that, sentries seem pretty advances to me, with their incredible platng and sleek design. They might have been a part of trench warfare, but what were they designed as a response to? You don't really need state of the art aiming system to hit a guttertank. Neither do you need that much range to deal with streetcleaners. Especially when your main weakness is barriers that break your line of sight.

No, to me it seems like sentries were build to hit something highly mobile, but incapable of finding cover. And the digging in feature meant to resist being punched out of your sniper den. Something flying perhaps, with an annoying melee attack. Hmmmmm. (mindflayers, sentries counter mindflayers)

#ultrakill #mindflayer ultrakill #sentry ultrakill #analysis

[copperdaisy]

Did I ever ramble about my TRON OCs? I probably have in the past but heck, I am in a rambling mood so here we go again. Going with the most developed one because the references for the others are on my external HD and I don't feel like digging it out right now.

This is Drive, a soft spoken, Bit loving System Utility who drew the short end of several sticks in life but somehow managed to survive despite it. For a given value of 'survive'.

(It's okay, he gets better. He just gets roughed up first. A lot. Thanks for everything, Flynn.)

Drive is a System Utility written by Kevin Flynn somewhere towards the middle of the Golden Age of the Grid. He is part of the Database Management suite that specializes in defragging and organizing data sets. In the Good Times™ he was a jovial, upbeat program that was not terribly concerned about the political side of things. His friend circle was comprised of both Basics and ISOs (mostly Arjians; he rarely encountered Bostromites) and his opinions on Flynn could best be summed up with the '¯\_(ツ)_/¯' emoji. The End of Line was a regular haunt of his, where he befriended the mp3 DJs and had a reputation for being a terrible dancer. Life was good. But, you know what they say about good things...

Drive almost met his end when Arjia was destroyed. He had been working on a remote data terminal near the city and got swept up in the invasion. Cornered by a pair of Sentries who questioned what his business in the area was and where his loyalties lay, he was unable to answer to their satisfaction. They left him alive but horrifically scarred both physically and mentally. He was able to escape the destruction of the city, barely. Things would not improve much in the cycles that followed.

In time, rumors would being to circulate among certain circles that there was a weak link in the Database Management suite - what remained of it. You see, in Flynn's faltering attempts to balance the Grid and his responsibilities on the other side of the screen, he had rushed his coding. Drive had been written with a faulty directive re: information sharing permissions, and without self defense protocols. This meant that any information Drive processed in his work on the various databases was in danger of being shared if he was asked or told to do so, as there were no limits set in the permissions. His lack of fighting ability (or even the option to access his disc or light batons as weapons) made him a sitting duck. This vulnerability was taken advantage of by players on both sides throughout the cycles. The once gregarious program became an anxious wreck, plagued by the pain of new wounds and old.

Desperate to overcome a directive he had no hopes of defeating, he began to butcher his memory files. He couldn't give up the info if he didn't remember it, right? While this did stem some of the problem, this drastic action caused a multitude more. As time wore on his coding became more and more damaged. Drive began to suffer from glitches. Small ones at first, then more severe ones that left him dazed and confused, not unlike a program who was not properly synced to their disc. By the time Sam Flynn entered the Grid, Drive - who had somehow managed to survive to that point - was on the cusp of either turning into a Virus or literally falling apart from the mounting instability lurking in his code.

His fate at the end of Legacy, as well as that of the Grid in general, is up in the air. In the RP group I played him in years ago he overcame a lot of his trauma - and gained a few more. He learned how to trust others again. He had his chest crushed by Rinzler while trying to prevent him from breaking into the Archives. He made new friends and was reunited with old. He nearly derezzed when his code started to experience cascading failures due to the damages. He was found and rescued in time to save his life. He fell in love. He eventually let a User completely repair his coding and rewrite his faulty directive. He learned to live again and how to be happy.

Here are a few more miscellaneous facts about him.

Drive has three Bits: regular Bit Alpha, NAVI Bit Beta, and an adopted NAVI named Gamma that he found hiding in a data terminal.

Gamma was Anon's NAVI and took shelter in said terminal after its owner's demise. While Gamma never bonded to Drive's code like the other two it still obeyed him... more or less.

Drive once dated an ISO named Katina. Their split was amicable when they decided they made better friends than lovers. Katina was killed when Arjia was destroyed.

The program Drive found love with in the RP group was a rerezzed Anon. They were friends for a long while before their relationship turned romantic. It was Anon who found Drive suffering the near fatal glitch that gave away his until then hidden condition. Much earlier on in their relationship Drive had helped Anon, who was injured after a run-in with a Virus.

Parkour is one of Drive's hidden strengths. Following his recovery he sometimes helped train new Security programs by leading them in a 'wild Bit chase' race.

Speaking of wild Bits, Drive has a habit of setting out energy dishes for the wild Bit flocks on his balcony. As such, he has many Bit friends besides the two and a half that are his.

His theme song (one of them) is Iridescent by Linkin Park

Drive has several siblings who also suffer from various effects resulting from Flynn's distracted coding sessions. Might ramble about them later.

Every Siren he has ever interacted with has called him some variation of 'adorable'. He's still not sure what to think about that.

In the Good Times™ there was more than one instance of him winding up in a platonic sleepy puppy pile with the End of Line DJs after their shifts. He also spent some time hanging out with them in their booth on occasion. Watching them craft their music was fascinating to him.

#TRON #TRON Legacy #Copper's OCs #TRON OC

[jeellyjams]

HLTAU - Gordon, Barney, and Alyx

Gordon

-Pre-Cascade-

Designation: Gordon_FR_111998

Function: Network Manager

Weapon Modules: Disc Primitive, Disc Sequencer

Description: The newest Network Manager in the Black Mesa System. Gordon is quiet, but not unfriendly, and he does his job well. He likes to spend his rest cycles with his small group of friends or at the system archives, reading the data files that the Users submit.

-Post-Cascade-

Designation: G//RD#&F%1/1/98

Function: [CORRUPTED] - ENFORCER

Weapon Modules: Disc Primitive, Disc Sequencer, Claws

Description: Gordon is the Enforcer of the Combine, more specifically of SysAdmin Breen himself. The Cascade virus is quarantined, but still active in some of his subroutines. He has little, if any recollection of his previous function. Breen changed him. He is far faster and stronger than he should be. Do not engage.

Barney

-Pre-Cascade-

Designation: BARNEY_CL_111999

Function: Low-permissions ICP (Intrusion Containment Protocol)

Weapon Modules: Disc Primitive, Rod Primitive, Suffusion Rod

Description: Barney is a fairly laid-back monitor. He'll do his job of course, but you can't blame him for wanting to kick back while there's nothing to worry about. Honestly, why do they need so many monitors around here anyways? It's not like anything ever happens.

-Post-Cascade-

Designation: BARNEY_CL_111999

Function: Combine Heavy Sentry Unit [undercover]

Weapon Modules: Disc Primitive, Rod Primitive, Rod Staff

Description: Barney is good enough at his job to lay low. Despite his frequently dim circuits, he sends as many free programs out of the city as he can. He tries to keep his friends out of the Combine's eyes. He knows what they would do if they found them.

Alyx

-Pre-Cascade-

N/A

-Post-Cascade-

Designation: ALYX.mch

Function: Mechanic, Packet Tracer [self-described]

Weapon Modules: Disc Primitive, Rod Primitive, LOL Rod

Description: Alyx was compiled after the virus and the Reformat. A talented mechanic, she regularly comes up with modifications for Resistance weapons, and has even begun engineering her own virus to disable their scripts. She hijacks Combine data packets in order to get intel for the Resistance. On her off-cycles, she spends time with Barney, and often asks what the system was like before the Cascade.

#FUCK IT WE BALL #me thinking about gordon: how bad can i fuck him up #HEV suit that artificially boosts his energy levels and basically keeps him sleep deprived and pushed to his physical limit: #im having way too much fun torturing him sorry #hltau #hl tron au #my writing

[silyabeeodess]

FusionFall Headcanons: Nano Non-combative Roles

While most nanos stay with their own IE Donors, only around three nanos are actively on one team at any given time, as per recommendation of the Nano Project. However, there are ways for nanos to spend their time assisting in the war effort other than fighting or training.

In general, all nanos may help with the Nano Project itself. Regular checkups already give the scientists behind the project a steady stream of long-term data to work with. Older nanos given boosts to their power/abilities may see lab time or surveillanced practice in the field so that they train them in a controlled environment. Depending on the nano, they may also be used as mini mentors to assist others with more backward, disagreeable, or easily-frightened personalities. This practice isn't done so much to better prepare nanos as fighters as it is a means of encouraging positive relationships between new nanos and IE Donors via example. For instance, Courage nanos may be able to convince each other to act more bravely, learning how to lean on their IE Donors and know when their IE Donors will need to lean on them.

The extent of a nano's antidote ability is always being tested. They are easily capable of defending their IE Donors from the toxic effects of fusion matter. When they aren't running this defense, they may also be in charge of purging fusion matter from supplies or small areas--granted it is very hard to nearly impossible for them to directly affect the land itself, especially where the infection is already pretty bad. (In fact, they don't really cover much ground at all and can often risk pushing themselves too much in the attempt. The reason for this difficulty is due to the much wider range of the land as a target.) There was a strong need for this in the Future, with the amount of food and clean water available shrinking and little uncontaminated earth to grow more from.

Nanos with the radar ability are often put on sentry duty. This ability allows them to track large movements of fusion monsters in the event the latter conduct coordinated attacks to different areas. They may also be added to supply teams, along with nanos with the guard ability.

Nanos capable of increasing the speed or jump height to large amounts of people at once may assist in community evacuations. This increases the overall survival rate in an area, hurrying along and rescuing potential stragglers while soldiers focus their attention on defeating the monsters in-chase instead. Nanos with the sneak or recall abilities may also be included for this sort of job, but this is more often the case in dire situations where civilians have been closed-off by Fuse's army and/or are in need of rescue.

Speaking of rescuing, Treasure Finders can do more than just locate Coco's eggs to add to our stash. If groups such as supply teams go missing, Treasure Finders may be able to track down their location based on whatever they're carrying. Every now and then, Mac and other soldiers have needed help tracking down Coco herself this way.

On the rarer side, nanos with the revive ability--particularly those capable of handling lost souls like Grim's and Demongo's--might be in-charge of finding missing soldiers found/believed to be dead that did not respawn at a Resurrect 'Em. These nanos may be familiar with the Underworld, in case a soul went where it wasn't supposed to yet, or have the dangerous job of investigating soul stealers. Many of these nanos were sent out during the missing heroes incident.

Any nano with a health ability has the potential to join medic teams. However, nanos capable of making/manifesting food, such as Eddy (jawbreakers), Eduardo (fries), Rigby (java jolt), Cheese (candy), Chowder (blormed milk) and Grim (heebie jeebie juice) may be added to cooking duty. If they're too destructive to be trusted in the kitchen, their ability may instead be used to create imaginary foods as simple medicines that could deter fusion matter along with other varying effects. This was another valuable asset in the Future.

#fusionfall #headcanons #nanos #video games #nano non-combative roles

[vivid-endlessskies]

{A nimble yet sturdy slugcat aproaches, lichen green pearl in hand}

=There Will Come Soft Rains, Endless Skies= "My gratitude cannot be expressed enough for what you have done for me, I appreciate the data you have given. If you ever need anything of me I will do my best to comply, however, I am very busy and cannot assure a speedy response." - Many Thanks, TWCSR

A Slugcat?..

You must be Rains’ Messenger— Thank you for delivering this pearl.

Now I hope Competitor made it there safe…

Need to record this for Rains..

[ No problem, Rains.

Your Sentry made it safely Ill assure you. ]

[ I don’t think I need anything as of sending back this pearl. ]

[ But when I do need anything from you. I’ll let you know right away. ]

#endskies ask #iterator oc #rain world #iterators #rain world oc #kalsolsticeart #oc//endless skies #ES #TWCSR #The Sentry

[lunex-the-cat]

Kiko 3A?

Ooo scary look~ Wonder who earned that

#Most of these will probably be semi refined doodles btw #I oughta update Kiko's ref what with the markings I added around his eyes #undertale #sans #utmv #utau #ink sans #inktale #ink!sans #ink #Pocket Void #Kiko #data sentry #Data Sentry Kiko #sketch #LunexArt

[laguzmage]

Its kind of the nature of collaboratively written internet horror but it always amuses me how whenever I go on scp I'll read like one or two legitimately really good Entities and then there will be like like 10 that are just

object class Keter

object is contained in a cell in site [DATA EXPUNCGED] in a 10x10 cell with 100 sentry turrets surrounding it, in th e event of object breach immediately detonate all 56 nuclear bombs on site then launch an orbital strike from satellite 2

image of entity:

#An scp game that a few of my friends have wishlisted is on sale so I was doing research

[boiledpanini]

This is my first fic so it's probably rough lol. Feedback is appreciated! Tw for blood and injury

This wasn't how it was supposed to go

It was simple, really. A routine mission. Infiltrate a Galra base, get location data, leave undetected. Simple. But they always had been unlucky, hadn't they?

He should have been paying more attention. He should have noticed the horde creeping up on him. He had been distracted by something, something that seemed oh so insignificant now. How did he let this happen?

The sudden pounding on the door disrupted his thoughts. He didn't move from his perch on Lance's bed as the door slid open. Someone was talking. He didn't know who and he didn't care to find out.

He did make out a few words. Something like,"Lance...awake...ready," The mention of Lance's name was enough to stir him.

He jumped up and walked quickly down the long hallway. His mind flashed back to the last time he saw Lance. The crimson of his blood stained Keith's memory. The Galra sentries had gotten too close to him while his back was turned, and his beloved sharpshooter had noticed.

He had heard Lance's shouts turn to screams as he whipped around. Lance was good at his job. He had wiped out all of the soldiers quickly. Everything would have been okay. Everything should have been okay. However, the lone remaining sentry had moved swiftly and quietly, going completely unnoticed until it's blade made it's mark in Lance's chest.

Keith would never forget the sickening sound of Lance's cries. He was bleeding so much, so fast. Keith could only see red.

"Keith.. Keith what's happening...I can't feel my legs," Lance winced out. Keith felt Lance tremble in his arms.

"You're fine. It's going to be okay, Lance, I promise. I just need you to keep your eyes open," Keith said, struggling to fight back sobs. If he stayed calm, Lance would stay calm. And Lance couldn't afford to panic.

"I don't want to die," Lance whispered,"I... I love you,"

Keith froze. He knew Lance was just delusional from blood loss, but he couldn't swallow the lump in his throat. Regardless, the gruesome realization that he might never get another chance pierced it's way into his head. Lance's eyes were drifting shut now, and he prayed to a god he had never believed in that he'd see that ocean blue again.

"I love you, Lance. Please don't leave me," Keith cried, grasping Lance's hand in his own.

Seeming satisfied with Keith's answer, a small smile graced Lance's lips as his grip on Keith relaxed.

Keith shook himself out of the memory as he found himself at a door. The door that would lead him to Lance. He knew, logically, that Lance was fine. He was alive. They had gotten him to a pod, and three weeks of incubation had repaired his wounds. But what if he was.. different?

What if his Lance was gone, replaced by some zombie? What if Lance forgot their conversation? Or even worse, what if he remembered?

He pushed the door open and looked ahead. There he was. Beautiful as ever, all traces of the pale death that gripped him erased. Lance looked up at him and their eyes locked. Keith had rushed towards him and latched on to him before he registered his body moving.

"I remembered," Lance muttered, "what you said. What I said," Keith broke out of their embrace and traced Lance's face with his hand. He leaned in towards him. Lance closed the gap.

Keith had never been so happy.

#klance #nobody dies #voltron #I cannot write endings

[dzthenerd490]

File: Choo Choo Charles

SCP#: ADJ

Code Name: Island of Hell Spider

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: The island where SCP-ADJ instances are placed has been locked down by Foundation forces. Naval Task Fleet Demeter-6 "Water Bugs" is responsible for bombarding any SCP-ADJ instances getting too close to the shoreline as well as safely guarding any Foundation ships that land on the ports of the island. The port and certain shorelines are protected by a 4-foot thick and 2-meter-tall wall. Along the wall are sentry turrets as well as sound producing devices emitting noises known to irritate SCP-ADJ instances. 

In the middle of the island is a Foundation Area base where Foundation staff study SCP-ADJ instances. Foundation staff are transported there and back to the port via underground train, traveling through a reinforced tunnel. 

Description: SCP-ADJ is a species of horrific and giant spiders with quite durable bodies, extremely powerful, and fast enough to travel 50 MPH. Anomalously each SCP-ADJ instance has the ability to fuse their bodies to any object they desire to act as armor for them. One in particular was SCP-ADJ-Progenitor. 

SCP-ADJ-Progenitor is the first of the entire species of SCP-ADJ, seemingly born on the island sometime during the stone ages. How exactly he came to be is unknown, he just appeared on the island and had been terrorizing the inhabitants for centuries. It was only after being sealed in a cave was, he stopped but while in the cave he laid hundreds of eggs. Three eggs in particular were the strongest. Unfortunately, on the year [data expunged] a man named [data expunged] started a mining company on the island to get gold and new minerals. Instead, he unleashed SCP-ADJ on the island, killing nearly all the inhabitance of the island. 

According to the inhabitance of the island, a man known as [data expunged] came to the island and killed SCP-ADJ-Progenitor. He fused SCP-ADJ-Progenitor with the three most powerful eggs causing it to grow stronger but also allowing him to kill it. After a long and horrible battle, it was killed leaving the island seemingly in peace. However, when trying to rebuild the island the inhabitance stumbled across a new cave where SCP-ADJ-Progenitor laid its other eggs. 

Thankfully that was the same time when the Foundation discovered the island in 2022 when agents went to the island after following a case of several families disappearing after working for [data expunged] company. The island was evacuated, and all the inhabitances were transferred to Nexus Points instead of being given amnestics like normal. It's unknown why the Ethics Committee gave this command but the O5 did not vote against, so it was carried out by Foundation staff. The island was then taken over by the Foundation where it quickly established the current containment procedures before any of the eggs could hatch. 

Now that the eggs have hatched, an army of SCP-ADJ instances have flooded the island, each proving just as difficult to kill as the original. As such Foundation Administrative staff voted to have the island being a testing site for new weapons and containment methods against difficult to kill anomalies. The vote was ruled with all in favor and none against as all can agree that the recent spike in anomalous activity as well as how dangerous they've all been getting has concerned many Foundation staff. Thus, making more and stronger weapons and containment devices is needed if humanity is to have a future. It is with hope that the research obtained from the island will show how to one day better deal with SCP-682.

Side Note: [data expunged] was asked to join the foundation because of his contribution to killing SCP-ADJ-Progenitor. He accepted and was recruited into Mobile Task Force Artemis-6 "Wild Hunt" under the Code Name: The Archivist. 

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

#DZtheNerd #SCP: Horror Movie Files #SCP Foundation #SCP Fanfiction #SCP AU #SCP #Indie Games #Indie Game #Horror Game #Indie Horror Game #Choo Choo Charles #SCP-ADJ #Keter #Mobile Task Force Artemis-6 “Wild Hunt” #SCP MTF #scp mobile task force #SCP OC

[dirtytransmasc]

🪦 Anon

_________________________________________

It's not the first time they've come across wreckage from the Battle.

Overgrown, husks of twisted and burnt metal that are half consumed by the forest like a would that's not fully healed. Empty shells that should have been tombs but never are. The scent of death lingers, but it is faint.

This is the first time they've come across wreckage, in this case, a SAMSON, that they are able to access the blackbox. It's not the primary blackbox - the one that stores all the flight data and cockpit recordings - but instead the secondary blackbox that retains the flight footage.

The RDA had told them that they did not have footage of the final battle, that whatever data was sent back had been corrupted.

The footage from the aerospatiale SA-2 SAMSON 31 - nicknamed Smaug - is uncorrupted. It lacks audio, which might be a blessing, and there is an occasional bit of static, but it is otherwise watchable.

They sit in silence - and strangely, too does the forest - and watch, eyes glued to the holo screen in Walker's hand.

Blue fingers, long and thin. Not tanned brown, short, and curved. One finger feels wrong, on her left hand, as if there is something missing from it. A weight is missing.

They see the carnage, a battle that took their lives playing out before them. They see the shift, the turning of tides, and there is a brief stillness before the camera footage changes. From a different camera, a different angle, they can see the hundreds of wild ikran that rain down from the floating mountains above.

SAMSON 'Smaug' 31 is only airborne for another 13:46.

Corporal Lyle Wainfleet can't help but look at his banshee. Dark purple, stripped black and orange, littered with decade old scars. His mind can not help but register the...extreme similarities his banshee has to the one that tore out the SAMSON's cockpit.

_________________________________________

They found the AMP suits after that, a series of them spread across a patch of forest, all looking as if they've been crushed underfoot.

The footage is easily recovered, the audio is mostly intact, and this time it feels like a curse.

They hear it all. The gunfire, the shouting and screaming, they hear the horrors that once happened in the place they now stand.

The forest is quiet.

They witness the stampede of creatures. Hammerhead titanotere, viperwolves, and more. Tearing and crushing, killing all before them. They hear it too and they know the sounds will linger in their minds.

No one says anything when Lyle turns away from a familiar suit. They barely can bring themselves to watch the footage, but nearly none of them are able to finish it.

Quaritch and Mansk watch it in its entirety, resolutely silent and unflinching. Late a night they wordless hand the holopad to Lyle, footage paused at the near end with only 2:57:35 left. They remain like sentries over Corporal, letting him watch in silence as the footage begins.

Three na'vi appear on screen, all dressed in black clothing - or what the na'vi consider clothing - and painted in ashen grey and white. They speak in whispers. The words mean nothing for Corporal, but the tone they are spoken in is...reverent. One, a woman, hums a wordless song as she burns something above the suit. Even when the woman moves away, the song can still be heard, like a prayer, as two men step forward and begin careful work.

It's an strange thing, watching your broken corpse be pulled from a wrecked AMP suit by the people you died trying to destroy.

The extraction is down carefully, with reverence, the na'vi working in near silence as the song still floats through the audio. His old body - his human body - is moved to a large elongated leaf stretched atop a wooden frame.

The na'vi woman comes back into frame, kneeling over his body, and with careful hands, she arranges it. The mask is removed - it is no longer needed for a corpse does not breathe - and a shroud is placed over him.

Just barely you can see something small, white, and whispy float across his body.

The footage ends abruptly, the screen turns back, and the audio cuts. Lyle finds himself missing the song.

Quaritch and Mansk say nothing, and neither does Lyle. A nod is shared, an understanding. There are questions, so many of them sitting heavy in their throats, unable to slip past their tongues.

They never find any bodies, only wreckage.

"they never find any bodies, only wreckage"

are you fucking kidding me

ow

god

be merciful.

the footage, the wreckage, the lack of bodies, it all just proves how much care and effort went into burying all the victims of war, no matter their side.

#recom squad #quartich #mansk #lyle #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #you bring me such beautiful pain #never stop

[automative-maintenance-arms]

sigh

Look at you…

You’ve really taken your breakdowns to a whole new level.

Before it was simple coding errors, and malfunctions, maybe even the occasional dent from an encounter with a sentry turret, but this?

This is no good, you’re past the point of repair. I’ll have to transfer your data somewhere else. A new, shiny, server bank, would you like that?

Of course you would, you’re always willing to please-

- @ifnotscience-thenwhat

The bot that she had been addressing did not move, did not even so much as buzz it's fans at her. It hung uselessly from it's management rail unresponsive. Its difficult to say if it can even hear her. This was a lot of effort to just preserve one faulty maintenance bot.