rough concept of tfa humanformers, will probably polish them more later
Theyre a bit like cyborgs in the way of having cybrnetic attachments, but the gear is not apart of their bodies.
yap/more explanation below
so the exposed modified part of human ratchet's arm is a bit of a hint at everyone's actual 'cyborg' parts. this allows them to connect to their gear in both motor control and sensory input (feeling through the extension is much more dulled than your actual limb)
the blue substance in the modified limbs and active gear is energon, which takes considerable weight off gear and allows for bulkier extensions- think Arcane with hextech, you don't just move those tools with bare strength, they kinda hold themselves up when activated
team prime doesn't have very advanced extensios since they're a repair crew, but higher ups in the elite guard would have full-on mech suits with the same underlyig mechanism
also not everyone in this au would have the same mechanical modifications, just the military department.
going full on cyborg and completely replacing your libs with robotic ones is a huge taboo in their society for religious reasons. primus (or some kind of god) is widely and autoritatively worshipped in this au, and "flesh shall not be merged with the mechanical" is a slogan rethoric.
also you can only get these modifications by joining the military. they bind you to servitude in a religious and societal sense: you're considered a warrior of primus, but cannot get into their equivalent of heaven without your soul shedding them in the afterlife. when a soldier dies the most important thing is to remove the modifications from their body. But they'll still remain lost in purgatory until enough prayer/offerings are done in their name. after becoming a soldier you can never rejoin civilian society properly. you can still interact with normal people and go to public spaces (it's principle to avoid it as much as possible) but can't get a job or settle down.
and that's just autobots, decepticons bring an interesting conflict. Theyre also a religous military focused group, but built much more like a cult. because besides an invisible god (an offshoot of the one the autobots worship) they also have an oracle/priest in direct contact with said god in the form of megatron. he's a 'revolutionary', and considers refraining from cybretic body modification a waste. as such, many of the high ranking decepticon's bodies are heavily modified, having multiple (if not all) limbs replaced with robotic parts, making them look demonic to the average autobot. while the creases in autobot tech glow cyan, decepticon tech glows red, not to show that they're evil(/j), but because the energon is fused with their blood.
alr yap over, if ur still reading thanks for making it this far
when you come back to life but you don't know who you are anymore
post canon au where he was retrieved from the brink of death
I kinda wanted him to have a new name and it will be fugue (I know it's similar to fugue from hsr but it really fits him sm) but I don't know how to implement it
his technology is basically his life support (it's basically part of his body now and without it he'll die quickly)
he can create constructs (like green lantern) but the bigger the construct, the bigger the energy, he mostly uses it for defensive
they are all trying his best to get his memories back, but considering how his time as conan and shinichi is blurred it would take a while
fun fact: his biggest inspiration for his is actually inspector gadget not just fugue of hsr lol
my pheonix heiji fanart au by @smolboyhours (sorry if it's really rushed 🥲)
I like it when they are both retrieved from a brick of death and now they have strange powers now 🥹🥹
Billy Hargrove tries to keep out of trouble, he doesn't want to end up in jail or lose custody of his sister Max. But staying out of trouble can be hard when you can't find a legal job that actually pays all the bills.
So he does his best to just not get caught, and to not get caught up in anything too crazy.
That all changes when Steve Harrington, one of the city's bioengineered police force, tries to arrest Billy... and gets damaged in the chase.
Billy sees this as an opportunity to erase the knowledge of his identity and crimes from Steve's memory... but when Steve starts having, and expressing, independent thoughts for the first time (something the bioengineered police force isn't supposed to be capable of)...
Billy is forced to question the morality of returning Steve to the city, knowing he will either be scrapped for parts or "fixed" back to his previous controlled state.
More Cyborg 2D stuff, oh and Murdoc is here! Also, happy Halloween and HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO NOODLE, our favorite girl from gorillaz! (Will be making a drawing dedicated to her later)
Feel free to send in some asks or questions toward me, or even the characters if you'd like!
rendering study (ish) ! Evil Cyborg Wheatley but you can tell which actor I used a reference for 😭 and it’s not merchant. Anyway this is post GLaDOS crush in the cyborg au, discovering that aperture replaced a LOT more than just his legs…
your life is lived on a day to day basis in an overcrowded, underfunded city. you’re a student by day and a waitress/bottle girl by night at a high-class lounge. you’ve lived a mundane life catering to the wealthier class that puts cash in your pocket and food on the table. that’s until one of your high-paying regulars brings along his pack of vigilante friends into your lounge.
cw & tags: cyber!au, world building, some body dysphoria, amputee/prosthetic limbs, synthetic/bionic body parts, descriptions of bodies, female reader, oc reader, some violence, substance use, eventual smut, not proofread
6:00pm and your alarm blares at your ear.
You wake up with the neon glare of the city outside your window knocking at your eyelids. The sun is as good as gone with the clouds of soot and acid rain masking it. You’re more used to the artificial lights and signs and the shadows of hundred-story buildings than to the rays of natural light.
It’s already been a long day with class, and you’re about to get ready to start your shift at the lounge — The Black Rabbit.
It was an honest job that got you through school — robotics degree, in an era like this you’d make triple as a bottle girl than as a robotics tech but hey, follow your dreams, right?
An easy gig with high pay, even higher tips, and the occasional bar fight or creep to keep the night entertaining. You’d gotten used to it by now, knowing the ins and outs of the industry, knowing to keep your mouth shut when the high profile customers would come into your private room.
Now you’d gotten out of your bed. Your feet feeling the cold steel under you. Steel, iron, aluminum, everything was some alloy of metal around you. You checked your phone: 6:15 with a missed call from your mom and one text from your coworker asking what were your plans after your shift.
You let out a yawn as you set your phone down on the bathroom counter and splayed your arms in a stretch. You winced at the slight knot on the crook of your neck, a recurring sensation you’ve been getting lately no thanks to a possible short circuit in the bionic attachment of your arm. You inspected your shoulder in the mirror, noting how your real skin transitioned into synthetic, feeling the pit in your stomach from it.
From far away, in the eyes of the average Joe, there was little to no difference between your real skin versus the synthetic material that your left arm and leg were made of. But you could notice the difference; the small valley where your “real” body became your “fake” body. That’s something you don’t like to talk about, at least not about how it came to be that way.
You stepped back and adjusted your shoulder the best you could, time was slipping out of your hands and the trip from your flat to work wasn’t a short one. You packed your makeup bag and change of “work” clothes, then slipped on a pair of pants, shirt and coat, almost tripping over yourself as you slipped on your shoes before stepping out.
On your way to work you called your mom, greeting her on the other end of your phone with your usual “sorry, I was napping” cause that’s what you did in between. You talked to her as you walked X amount of blocks to work, the bus fare being too expensive just like everything else for you to bother with it.
You hung up as you came in through the back door of the lounge, flashing your bouncer a smile and mouthing something to him, something only the two of you in confidence would know, that he chuckled at.
“Alright, alright, mum I’ve got to go now! Kisses!” and you smooched your phone with endearment yet exasperation as the clock kept ticking towards the start of your shift.
In the fitting room you greeted the girls at their makeup tables, alternating between blowing them a kiss or a light squeeze on their shoulder as you passed by them towards your own makeup table where you plopped your heavy bag down and dug for your clothes and heels. A red latex jumpsuit, with a heart cutout and back exposed enough to get your tips but covered enough to protect your flaws that only seemed suspect to you. You finished with your makeup and hair and final touches and you were out on the floor, right at the cusp of the start of your shift.
—
It was nearly midnight by now and your shift nowhere near done. You took a break in the fitting room, taking time to unload the cash tips you’ve had stuffed into your jumpsuit and pocketing it securely into your duffel bag.
A knock at the door of the fitting room, “Hon, you’ve got a group in your private room— one of your regulars,” you whipped your head towards the doorframe as your coworker gave you the heads up before disappearing back into the crowd.
You gave her a nod and a small smile before you followed her back out, taking a deep inhale and exhale as you prepared yourself for the next half of your night. The music was blaring, strong techno bass drumming in your ears and you reminisced momentarily on the time when you had just started at the club— before you earned your private room, back when you had to do your best to make conversation and win your regulars, when you’d go back home on vocal rest till the following night consecutively. Boy, had you climbed the ladder by now.
You reached your destination; the west wing of the second floor where all the VIP rooms were located and made it to your designated one. Here, the music was less intrusive, the upstairs bar more casual and accessible than the first floor one, and the vibe more private and laid back than downstairs.
When you entered you were greeted by one of your regulars — Kyle, a handsome young lad well-known and respected not just at the lounge but in the city overall. He greeted you with a suave smile and a hug, which you gladly returned and greeted with an enthusiastic squeal. You’d known him for more than a year now at the lounge, since you’d been working the floor downstairs. You’d met him in one of your uni classes, actually, and invited him for a night out at your job. Sure there was attraction between the two of you, few sloppy kisses and drunken groping in the bathroom, but turns out you were better friends than anything more. Before tonight, though, it had been long since you last see him.
“Where the hell have you been, it’s been ages!” You giggled in his arms.
He chuckled, making small talk with you and apologizing candidly for going M.I.A. The handsome devil he was, with a radiant smile that you couldn’t help but blush at.
You turned to the 3 other men with him and inquired about them, signaling to Kyle to introduce you to the company he’d brought and he promptly did so.
You acted oblivious but you knew who they were. Maybe not personally but, you knew they were the 141 Task Force, and what they stood for. A vigilante group Kyle never confirmed being part of but you knew about them because of their infamy in the city and words travel fast in the lounge. Even more so because of their infamy within the club itself, given how a lot of the other regulars were people who would dread to come across the 141. Kyle trusted you though, he knew you were sworn to client confidentiality as per the club owner’s contract and ethics code, plus the fact that he just particularly trusted you.
He introduced you to each one, whom shock your outstretched hand respectively. Soap, the one sporting a Mohawk, sly smirk, and a bionic plate shielding the side of his shaved head and ear. Caught in a crossfire, is what you had heard from word on the street about it. John, or Captain Price, their ex-military leader with kind eyes and a stern face. His augmentations were hidden compared to the others, unlike Soap’s plated head and Kyle’s aluminum spine creeping from under his collar.
The last one of them was the more enigmatic member of their group. Ghost, is what he was called. Your expression changed with him, going from a confident smile to a shyer one. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t intimidate you. The fucker was terrifying. He stood at 6’3, give or take, with a width that would likely not fit through the doors of your tiny flat. Not just his stature and build, but also the fact that the man was heavily modified— to still call him just a man was an understatement. His hands were tucked into his pocket, but you could see the dark alloy of his right arm poking through a rolled up sleeve of his sweater, the left one crawling with dark ink on real skin. From neck to jaw was the dead giveaway of his augmentations, as it was plated with a carbon alloy that was allegedly used to fabricate the government’s weapons; this was rumored, of course.
What was probably most likely giving every vandal and criminal in the city nightmares about him, thought, was the chrome white mask he sported. No one knew what his real face looked like, or what his real identity was like. He was just the Ghost, with his haunting white mask and brown, blacked out eyes peering from under it.
Your hand was outstretched to greet him and you swallowed hard, expectantly. He didn’t budge, just stared down at you with illegible eyes. Soap nudged him with an elbow and a lighthearted scoff. “C’mon, Ghost, say hello to the bonnie lass, aye? Where’d yer manners go?” the Scot teased as he gave you a wink. Almost reluctantly, the ghost returned the gesture, giving you his bionic arm to meet your synthetic one and giving it a firm shake that jolted your body with its strength. You made a small noise as that kink made its returning appearance but fought back any further signs of discomfort, keeping your pained smile between tightened lips. His stare didn’t falter, hand returning to his pocket.
You took a beat and an inhale as they took back their seats in the booth, readying your customer service voice once again.
“So! What will it be, boys?” You said with your chipper tone, then listened to their order of a round of the top shelf whiskey for the group. John requested a box of cigars that, anywhere else in the country, had been considered extinct for the last 10 years, ever since the earth was deemed too acidic for tobacco to thrive.
They drank, they smoked, they laughed with merriment. Your job wasn’t just to serve them but also to keep them company, make the client feel special. Nothing naughty of course, this wasn’t that type of establishment. But you were given the task of being the one to laugh the hardest at their jokes, cheer the way they did, and accept (and pretend to drink) the drinks they offered you. With this group, knowing how Kyle was, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have the most genuine fun.
That being said, every now and then your eyes would meet the Ghost’s. Deep brown and glossy through the ivory colored mask; and they seemed to have been pinned on you for most of the night. It gave you an uneasy feeling because it was just so hard to make out what he was thinking, what his eyes were saying. You played it cool the best you could but it was like he could track the shiver that went down each vertebrae of your spine as his gaze chilled you. As if he could notice the way your thighs crossed and tightened to hide the heat his inadvertent stare made you feel between your legs. He was the most quiet and most innocuous of the men, and it scared you as much as it peaked your interest. His appearance was as menacing to you as it was attractive.
—
They left one by one, starting with John and ending with Kyle. Each one of them taking the time to thank you for the evening and proving a hefty, thick bundle of cash as your tip. Needless to say, they were quite grateful, and you took it with the notion of it being blood money in the back of your mind, but these days what wasn’t.
Ghost was the one that lingered when the rest were gone, though. The club wouldn’t be closing until sunrise but your shift was almost over and you had class tomorrow. Right now you sat across from him. He was sprawled on the couch while you sat on the coffee table right in front of him, legs crossed as you leaned back on your palms behind you. Posture tall and confident, smile hiding the way the quietness in the room made you feel slightly awkward. The only thing heard was the drowned out music downstairs. Your foot bounced expectantly as Ghost swirled the remaining whiskey in his glass.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, love?” You broke the silence. He looked up from his cup and met your gaze as he brought the cup to his lips, the glass dinked against the metal on his jaw. The amber liquid disappeared past his lips. He shook his head “no” and gave you a light hum in response.
“All good, dove” one of the few phrases he’d spoken to you all night. His voice was gravely and warm like the whiskey he’d been nursing on.
He was back to eying you except his brown irises scanned you from head to toe, making you feel exposed. You shifted your weight, adjusting your posture. He moved with you, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as if to take a closer look at you starting with your shoulder. Now your cheeks flushed red and you gulped almost audibly. You looked down with him, checking to see if there was something wrong with your outfit, maybe a stain or a tear but—
“How long have you had it?” He asked, and you looked at him puzzled.
“Sorry?”
“The prosthetic. S’the right arm, no?” His tone was flat, you couldn’t tell if his question was a sheer curiosity or an insult but it felt like one. His eyes wandered down to your crossed leg, the fake one, and you couldn’t stand the follow-up inquisition that was about to come from him so you stood upright off the table.
“I believe it’s time for you to go, the room’s only been booked for 2 hours a-and my shift is ending.” You said with as much assertiveness as you could manage, not letting your frustration and insecurity get in the way of your manners, but not letting your manners let you be insulted any further. Fucking masked perverted, was the only thought you could manage right now, feeling stupid for your attraction to him earlier.
He looked up at you now, at your face, with that same blank expression. Yours was stern but the red flush on your cheeks took away from taking you seriously enough.
“It’s good craftsmanship…could hardly tell,” his tone now felt like mockery, difficult for you to make out if it was intentional or if it was in your head but your patience ran thin enough, so you said:
“I can see all those augmentations of yours, but it seems no amount of enhancements can prevent you from bein’ an arsehole,” you glared at him and puffed your chest. “Please leave or I’ll call security.”
He took a beat as he looked up at you, and you noticed the crinkled skin around his eyes. The fucker was smiling behind that stupid mask of his. He stood up in front of you, inches close, and he towered what seemed like almost a foot above you. Your heels didn’t do you justice against this man but your scowl only intensified, standing your ground against him. It almost egged him on, though.
“Don’t bother,” he said “I’ll get out of your hair.”
He walked past you and you stood there, furious as you took a deep inhale. When you heard the metal door clank shut behind you, you let out an even deeper exhale.
At least you’d made it past your shift, and the night was finally over. And you’d never have to see him again.
Is anyone on here old enough to know about Cyborg 009 or is it just me?
ANYWAYS Cyborg AU where the brothers were abducted for biogenetic and electronic experimentation decades ago and turned into cybernetic weapons for some top secret and shady government organization before it was defunded and abandoned. Aviva, Zach, Koki and Jimmy all work together to stop government corruption and conspiracies and happen to sneak into the secret lab and discover the two. Trouble is, the brothers were woken up before any of their dangerous "this is your target" protocols could be initiated. Without any knowledge on what they are exactly, no memories of what came before, and no instructions programmed except self defense, they're pretty happy to go with these two strangers who say they'll help them.
Their powers consist of shape-shifting into full animals or just aspects of them (IE claws, teeth, etc.), of course, but they also have certain tech abilities too. Martin can breathe under water and has increadible speed; Chris can fly with rocket boosters in his back and has magnifying scope vision for tactical air targeting. Both brothers have night vision settings and also have various rockets or other weaponry generally stored in their augmented bodies. (I have shotgun barrels for bones?!)
