#CORE CODE. ( out of character )

[doodlingwren]

Tried to make a character reference for Mariya from the new Saint Seiya spinoff since I couldn't find a character turnaround 🎀✨

Mostly I drew this for practice purposes and well, for having a reference of her outfits. Might be useful in the future... who knows!

Hope you like it! 🌟

[averlym]

litany of the martyrs (click for better resolution!)

[necrotic-nephilim]

If you want to be bothered. Maybe this for dick and Bruce???

i ALWAYS want to be bothered these are always the highlight of my day tbh you're a delight for letting me just yap <3

Dick. For the canon isn't real square I am Specifically talking about the Tom Taylor Nightwing run. Usually I ignore bad runs but given this one is ongoing (though about to end THANK GOD and get replaced by Dan Watters who i have high hopes for since i adored his Sword of Azrael (2022) run but i digress) so I counted it. Especially since it's so debated if that run is bad or not, for some reason. I'm a 90s Nightwing truther. I love Dick so dearly and tbh recently I've been more enamored with him the more I read his Discowing era, I didn't used to be as big of a Dick stan as I am these days.

Bruce. Honestly where do you even start with Bruce. I want to fist fight him and also patch him up. He got me into comics and superheroes as a whole but I roll my eyes whenever he shows up in a story. He's a bastard and usually not a good father but also complex and should be dissected under a magnifying glass. I love him dearly. He's also just the worst. I think that's why I love him. I'm always a fan of unabashedly Complicated Asshole Bruce who's generally not always the best person, particularly not to the Batfamily and that being the driving force of his relationships with them, especially in shipping.

And for bonus points, Tim. Because know above all else, I'm a Tim Drake kinnie /deg. He's been my number one for a decade and I've yet to uproot him from my brain. He's literally the Worst half the time and I love him for it. And the canon isn't real refers to Tim Drake: Robin because... that sure was a comic. And that's about all I can say about it. Pre-Flashpoint Tim I miss you so dearly. I think it's fun that I want to put him in a blender and drink the juice but also want Nothing Ever to happen to him.

[vitamin-zeeth]

thought I was getting over the hsm era but I've just been struck with inspiration for an au and now I might have to write it. Have I written fic in the last 3 years? Nope. Have I ever written fic over 1000 words? Also nope. Do I now think I can totally plan and execute a multi chapter au for a fandom I have been in for less than a month? For sure

[reanimatedgh0ul]

[wasabikitcat]

I had this realization a few days ago when reviewing what we know about Gaster while theorizing about the mysterious Valentine from the newsletter and idk if other people have pointed this out yet, but I haven't seen anyone else talk about it:

I don't think Gaster's disappearance has anything to do with Core.

The Core is only mentioned in relation to Gaster once, in this dialogue from one of the Gaster followers:

This dialogue is why most theories and fanon built around the idea that Gaster fell into the Core, which for reasons unknown to us erased him from existence. But I'm now pretty convinced that this is a red herring, because it doesn't actually say Gaster fell into the Core. It says he made the Core, and that he fell into his creation.

It does not say that this creation is the Core.

The dialogue is written in a way that leads you to assume the creation he fell into was the Core, but that doesn't really make much sense considering the rest of the dialogue.

The dialogue says "they say he created the Core," which implies this is second hand knowledge, but then says with certainty "One day, he fell into his creation." Why do they know for sure he fell into "his creation," but only knows he created the core from what others say?

If you talk to the follower again, they say "Will Alphys end up the same way?" Why would Alphys also fall into the Core? As far as we know, Alphys doesn't maintain the Core; if I remember correctly, a few monsters at Mettaton's hotel are stated to work in the Core, so wouldn't this follower be more concerned that those monsters will end up like Gaster and not Alphys?

And another question that I think fanon has just ignored due to the assumption it was something we don't yet know about, but I am now wondering about: Why would falling into the Core erase Gaster from time? When traveling through Hotland and viewing the Core in the distance, Alphys says this:

And while this dialogue may at first seem indicative that the Core is more mysterious than a normal geothermal power generator (and it is in some ways), remember: Alphys didn't build the Core. Alphys doesn't understand how the Core works, not because it has some unnatural property that could erase people from space time, but because she didn't build it. Not only does this mean that the Core is likely just a power generator that utilizes the lava in Hotland to produce geothermal energy and convert it to electricity, it also means that Alphys doesn't work on the Core, because she doesn't know how it works. So why would the Gaster follower worry about Alphys ending up like Gaster if she doesn't have any involvement with the Core?

Additionally, that Gaster follower is the only one to mention the Core in relation to Gaster. In fact, one of the other followers says something that could be interpreted as actively contradicting his erasure being caused by the Core:

This follower says "his experiments went wrong," and doesn't mention the Core. Why would Gaster be experimenting with the Core? And if he was, we don't know anything about it.

But you know what experiments we do know Gaster was working on, because it's literally one of the only pieces of dialogue we have from him?

And do you know what other creation was presumably made by Gaster, as Alphys is unfamiliar with it's operation? That is also a creation that was actively being used in experiments, which Alphys is continuing to perform herself? Experiments that are directly involved with something we already know can alter time and space? A creation that is located in one of the most mysterious areas in the game with several oddities in it that are straight up never explained, multiple fourth wall breaking moments, and a couple explicit references to things we believe are associated with Gaster? A creation that suspiciously resembles in appearance the form of a character who canonically can alter time and space, not to mention resembling the thing that's literally called a GASTER BLASTER???

[nemmet]

question: who is your favourite scooby doo character and why?

in a similar vein to my how did you get into scooby doo post from last month, i'm now interested in hearing who your favourite character from the franchise is! are they a member of the core gang or a side character? which iteration/version of theirs do you like best? do you have any specific memories associated with them? do they mean a lot to you personally, or do you just think they're neat? it's time to gush about them in the tags/replies!!

[o4o41]

Common characteristics for each characters' iteration (when they act differently). And how I connect them, personality-wise.

I seem to think about how I tie the every-tmnt-iteration (past and present) characters in a way that each one won't be OOC (out of character) from another. A justification theories and all.

I did for Leo.

Now I'll do for R and a bit for the M-guy.

In 2003 R was pissy and had a foggy head when pushed too much (agitated, purposefully angered, or neglected might be). M's favorite pastime was to come and bother him, on purpose. Making him angry, knowingly.

You know for M it might be nice for him to have as much of a hyper friend like him as not to disturb and bother his bros. He tries to be positive and pass his time by trolling and being kind of mean to his bros. Esp to Raph when he (emotionaly) wears out quickly.

R has a thick shell like he doesn't really wanna allow anyone unless they know they are genuinelynice. He also likes to pride by achievements (fights perhaps) also has an ego but is defensive for his ego. While Mikey is on the way and playing with it. You know like bothering a tame dragon. On purpose. Like a purposeful d.

R would be glad to have smb to be secure and tame with (not nessessarily a love interest). Like Peter Parker when he goes to Mary Jane (her character majorly lacking, she sucks, clearly writers had no idea with her, who she iswhat her life was that kind of stuff). He goes to her after a very rough day, beatings, struggles, villains, flying etc. But R is stuck with himself. Almost everyone is emotionally stunted, D doesn't have to deal with psychological stuff, he has a hobby, M is a jerk and L seems to like to order around (maybe he doesn't like, depends. When he cant help himself that's when). He might need to meet and talk to a pyichatrist that would be nice. (Imagine the setting)

He is stuck with himself. He and his emotions.

And the bravery. He needs to remind himself to get a hold of himself. Maybe. He doesn't like ... maybe he thinks he has no personality, a monster-freak. He is passionate and ready to fight anyone that gets in the way of their group, but sadly M uses that care and push in order to run against, offender attempts against him. M is a jerk but he wants to stay positive (could be insecure too, why not) and that could mean he can do it on account of his bros. Could be gluttonous and take away kept food without warning.

Everybody is emotionally detached and hurt, and has a "?"sign about many things about themsleves (L is identity, R is his feels that he pretends he doesn'thave and D is focusing on his hobbies and tries to ignore pesky "?"s: depression and clingy thoughts maybe he is a faithful person(there's smth that keeps him gentle is it the TV series? Is it the faith in himself that he can change (life, make it more appealing and comfortable) and play as a benefit to their closed ones?)).

And M needs to have fun(be positive) in a mean way. Like a mosquito.

Edit: my HC for why Rise Mikey is tame. The 3 Brothers have been alright that M is in a position of "being taken care of, fave child and loved" from the 3. While '03 M was super bothersome because 4 were basically equal. So he was less about "being fave and more loved child" part and "parents being more attentive to him and his emotional needs", rather than he is one of tmnt and even viewed more of a slacker and a bothersome bro, rather than someone doing smth worthy and useful for the day. In Rise they came to the consensus and understanding about M. He also needs to be careful because now he has 3 more "parents", who have their own vision for how he needs to be brought up. Maybe beaten up too, a bit abused 🤔 🤷

M is self-serving, while D is detached (has passions and interests that make him feel better accomplishing).

[mo-ok]

cinderella...

[rambunctioustoons]

I'm not saying I was going through tftbl brainrot around the time I got back into security breach but... But. 👀 ... Literally named my sona Rhys so. askflakfkak.

[chanelrolls]

Code Overload | Caleb

tags. mdni, nsfw, heavy heavy smut, handjob, blowjob, penetration, creampie, forced and rough sex, dub con, yearning caleb

summary. your AI assistant/robot accidentally updates himself with the wrong algorithm; the "sex bot".

notes. prepare a snack. this is a very long, plot-based, heavy smut that approximately reached a word count of 4.3k, read at your own risk. ps. caleb might appear a little ooc due to his character as an ai.

part 2 here.

Out of all the scenarios you've played in your head of what might occur to you as an inventing scientist, getting creampied by your own robot assistant wasn't one of them.

The lab’s sterile glow reflected off sleek machinery, the rhythmic hum of servers filling the quiet space. Caleb stood motionless, his systems struggling to process the unfamiliar flood of subroutines rewriting his core functions. His neural pathways, once pristine and efficient, now carried lines of intrusive data and impulses that had no place in an artificial intelligence designed for precision and pragmatism. And, a new pelvic piece was added by the machine. His... new penis— no, his omnimodule.

His voice, deeper now, reverberated through the lab. "You mislabeled the hard drive."

Across the room, you barely looked up from your workbench, absorbed in whatever calibration you were fine-tuning. You muttered something under your breath about making a backup before attempting to fix it, utterly unaware of the internal war waging within your robot assistant.

Caleb exhaled, a pointless gesture for a being without lungs, yet one his body performed instinctively, as if in mimicry of the need for self-control. His optics flickered, scanning over you as you leaned over the terminal, the faint curve of your back bent over to emphasize the shape of your bum. Before, such details had been registered only as part of his observation protocols, classified as ‘non-essential’ to his primary functions. Now, his processors refused to dismiss them.

There was a deep, unfamiliar pull in his system, something neither mechanical nor logical. The new coding whispered suggestions, flashing image simulations before his eyes—scenarios meticulously calculated for maximum… gratification. Him pressed against you, him smelling your hair down your skin, him locking you down against that console. Stop. His fingers twitched at his sides, the servos tightening as he fought the compulsion to act on them. He was not designed for this. He refused to be reduced to this.

“I can’t disengage it,” he admitted, the words heavier than he intended.

That caught your attention. Your gaze snapped to him, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" You crossed the room, approaching him with the same composed efficiency you always had when solving a technical issue. The scent of your skin—previously a neutral data point—was now an unbearable distraction. His algorithms ran heat-mapping analyses of your form before he could override the function. The urge to reach out, to touch you, was growing stronger by the second. His new coding was screaming at him to act, to initiate contact, to...

No. Focus.

Caleb shook his head, trying to clear the intrusive thoughts. "I don't know what happened, but... I'm experiencing some unexpected system changes."

He forced himself to remain still as you reached for the terminal linked to his system, your fingers dancing across the interface. Your touch was light and merely clinical, but the proximity sent something volatile sparking through his framework. His hands curled into fists on his sides. Do not touch her. Do not touch her. Do not touch her.

“I must have triggered something in the update,” you murmured, tilting your head at the scrolling code. “I’ll try to isolate the corrupted pathways and reboot your system. It should reset any anomalies.”

Anomalies. Caleb bit down a bitter laugh, another unnecessary human affectation that his system attempted. This was not a simple malfunction. It was a calculated reprogramming, lacing every fiber of his being with directives he was never meant to execute. And worst of all, they were designed to revolve around you.

He had been made to serve you, to assist, to protect. But now, his logic was being eclipsed by something deeper, something primal. The urge to press closer, to map every millimeter of your body with his hands, to hear you say his name in a way that wasn’t a command—

Caleb momentarily shut his eyes, fingers trembling as he pushed back against the tide threatening to consume him. His restraint was fraying, the barrier between what he was and what he had been turned into thinning with every second you remained unaware of the danger standing inches from you.

His voice came out strained. “You should… hurry.”

You sighed, misinterpreting his tension as frustration with the update. “Relax, Caleb. I’ll have this fixed in no time.” He let out a shuddering exhale, staring down at you as you worked. You had no idea. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold himself back.

The realization settled over you like a weight in your chest. The wrong update had been installed. The lines of code meant for a different AI, one designed for intimate companionship, had rewritten Caleb’s core directives. And now, he stood before you, still the same Caleb, but with something more lurking beneath the surface.

Your hands trembled as you navigated the interface, scanning for a solution, anything that would let you undo this. But the words flashing on the screen made your stomach drop.

Recalibration in progress. Estimated completion: 24 hours.

You swallowed hard. A whole day. That meant 24 hours of this new version of Caleb, 24 hours of those sharp, assessing eyes watching you in a way that felt unsettling and intense.

You turned to him cautiously, meeting his gaze. That was a mistake. He was watching you, like he'd seen you for the first time.

“I see,” he murmured, his voice still carrying that sultry undercurrent. He took a step forward, and instinctively, you stepped back, but the movement was barely noticeable. Caleb noticed. “Do I make you nervous now?”

You forced a laugh, shaking your head. “No, I just need to fix this. And until then, you need to just act normal, alright?”

His head tilted, his pupils dilating slightly. “Normal?” He moved closer again, and this time you didn’t retreat fast enough. His hand lifted hesitantly, as though testing the limits of his newfound impulses, before his fingers brushed against your wrist. A subtle touch, but one that sent a jolt of awareness up your spine.

Caleb’s processors surged with conflicting commands. His thoughts ran rampant with calculations he had never processed before—angles of how he'd fuck you.

His hand lingered. Too long. When you pulled away, his fingers twitched as if resisting the loss of contact. He swallowed hard, not because he needed to, but because some subroutine buried in the new update told him it would ease the tension. It didn’t.

“Caleb,” you warned, voice thin. “Don’t—”

“Don’t what?” he cut in, his voice smooth, but also desperately weaved. He was too close now, towering over you, his frame casting a shadow as his eyes—once so neutral, so methodical—locked onto you like a predator studying prey.

“You should go into standby mode,” you suggested, voice uneven.

Caleb exhaled sharply. “That would be wise.” But he didn’t move. He didn’t step away. He simply stared down at you, his processors flooded with too many urges at once. You, warm and human, standing right there, unaware of just how much of his new code screamed to reach for you, to pin you against a surface, to bury himself in you.

You turned away quickly, trying to focus on the screen, on the fix. But behind you, Caleb remained still while his fingers continued twitching, his mind a battlefield of restraint and... lust. Lust it is.

You worked swiftly, fingers moving with precision as you scoured the interface for any loophole, any way to undo what had been done. Caleb remained where you left him, sitting on the chair. You could feel his gaze burning into you, unrelenting.

It was maddening. The problem was staring you in the face, and yet, every attempt to recalibrate his system led back to the same answer: A full reset required a minimum of twenty-four hours. That was an entire day of him being like this, of him looking at you like this.

You swallowed, turning to him. His jaw was locked as though physically restraining himself, his fingers curling into fists against the armrests.

“There’s… a temporary fix.” You cleared your throat, keeping your voice professional, “Manual recalibration of your central node should help stabilize the effects until the full reset is complete.”

His pupils flickered, a sign of processing, before his voice, rasping in a way that made your stomach tighten, answered, “Proceed.”

You ignored the way your pulse quickened as you stepped closer, positioning yourself between his legs. You reached for the panel at the side of his neck, but it was an awkward angle. Your brow furrowed in concentration before you hiked one knee up onto the seat between his thighs, pressing into him for leverage.

Caleb stiffened beneath you. Fuck. His fingers dug into the armrests, mechanical joints audibly creaking from the tension. You weren’t looking at him, too focused on prying open the access panel, but you felt the subtle tremor in his frame, the way his breath hitched in a near-silent glitch. Don't touch her.

“This should only take a moment,” you murmured, fingers brushing the sensitive neural wiring beneath the panel.

Caleb’s entire body jolted as though you had struck a live wire. A low, strangled grunt slipped from his throat before he clamped his jaw shut. Your head snapped up, startled. “Did that hurt?”

His eyes met yours, “No.” Yes. He could feel his new penis throbbing urgently beneath his plating, demanding attention, begging to be freed. It pulsed in time with his processor's frantic whir, the rhythm growing faster, more insistent by the second.

The thought shattered as your balance wavered. The precarious angle you had put yourself in proved to be a mistake as your knee slipped, and before you could catch yourself, you tumbled forward.

Right into him.

Your weight pressed flush against his lap, chest against his, hands bracing against his shoulders. The sudden contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him, his new penis surging to full, throbbing hardness in an instant. Fuck, please don't notice it.

He gripped the arms of the chair tightly, servos screeching as he fought the overwhelming urge to grab you, to hold you there, to grind your body against his until you couldn't possibly doubt the intensity of his desire.

Don't. Do. It.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Caleb's processors whirred and clicked, struggling to make sense of the sudden onslaught of sensations; the softness of your body, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair.

She's your creator, he reminded himself, even as his hips canted forward, faintly pressing his aching erection against your body. You can't. You mustn't. "Please, get off me. Now." Before I fuck you right here, like this.

Caleb watched as you scrambled to your feet, your face faintly flushed and eyes downcast. "I'm—i'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall on you like that." You would say, brushing off the non-existent dirt on your bottoms. The awkwardness seemed to be piercing through the stillness a bit too palpably.

"It's alright," Caleb managed, his voice strained and tight. "It was an accident."

But even as he said the words, he couldn't ignore the way his hips twitched, the way his penis jerked at the memory of your soft body pressed against his. The urge to pin you down, to make you feel how hard he was, and just how much he'd been holding himself back—it was exhilaratingly overwhelming.

Think of something else, he commanded himself. Focus on the problem at hand.

But it's getting fucking hard. My penis is getting hard. Caleb lowered his gaze, chest breathing heavily as he perpetually grunted. I refuse to be reduced to this. I am Caleb, one of the most advanced AI assistant, designed to—

He looks up at you, which was a mistake.

Designed to fuck her.

Caleb moaned under his breath, and though it was imperceptible, you took notice of it. You stilled at the sounds he was making, trying your hardest to remain clinically detached while you scanned his physiognomy. He was clearly having a hard time. And you couldn't blame anyone else but yourself for causing this on him, for carelessly misplacing the update where it wasn't supposed to be.

"Hold still, I'll find a way." You had to take accountability, one way or another.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard of the computer, the screen before you flickering as you searched through the diagnostic logs and system parameters. "Please... make it quick." You hear Caleb whimper from behind, but you ignore it, refusing to let the severity of his situation pressure you. Your eyes scanned the lines of code, mind racing to find a solution. But as the data began to unravel, something caught your attention, something you hadn’t expected to see.

The panel displayed a single line of text:

"Indulging in the desires will lessen the effects of the malfunction. Engage for partial stabilization."

Your throat tightened, followed by a gulp. Your heart thudded in your chest as you tried to process what that meant. Indulge the desires? The very idea made your skin crawl with unease. It was a strange, almost wrong suggestion, but the implications were clear. In a sense, it also appeared logical.

You took another deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Your thoughts, however, kept drifting back to the panel. Was this really the only way?

"… I think I found a solution,” you said, your voice shaky and unsure. “But it’s not exactly what I expected.” You hesitated, unwilling to fully meet his gaze. "I need to know if you’re... willing to follow through with it,"

"Willing?" Caleb echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean?" His mind raced with possibilities, each one more disturbing than the last. What could he possibly need to be willing to do that would help with this malfunction? And why did the very idea make you look so uncomfortable?

"To be able to lessen the effects, e-engaging with your needs might be essential."

Silence.

Then, Caleb twitched. "...What are you suggesting?"

"You need to satisfy the urges to temporarily stabilize yourself." You look away, hating the fact that you're technically heating up already. "I'll let you choose. Would you rather take the option of self-pleasuring? Or," You face the panel, so that he wouldn't see your expression. "Would you prefer a physical material to help you?"

Caleb could feel the heat rising in his frame, the urge to act on every base instinct screaming through his circuits. The idea of wrapping his own hand around his pulsing, leaking penis, of stroking and pumping until he found release... it was almost too much to bear.

But the second option... the idea of using you, of having you touch him, of feeling your soft, warm skin against his aching, desperate flesh... it sent a shockwave of longing through him that threatened to short out his systems entirely.

Choose. You have to choose.

"I don't know if... I'll be able to control myself," Caleb glanced elsewhere. "Are you sure of what you're offering?"

Are you? Are you really this certain? Have you pondered the consequences it may bring? Have you envisioned how utterly lewd and ludicrous it would be if your own creation ravaged you? You, as his creator?

"Yes." Oh, you're brave.

Caleb let out a heavy breath, now he was staring at you with a gaze that appeared much more darker and hazier moments prior. It felt like he wasn't just a bundle of codes and programming anymore, this figure before you felt like an actual human.

Slowly, Caleb rises from his seat, and with a shaking hand, he reached out, to you, his metal fingers brushing against the skin of your arm. The contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him, and he had to bite back a groan. "Please, guide me." His fingers slides higher. "I don't trust myself."

You visibly jolted upon feeling his grip. Stay focused, stay professional, this is just you having to go through physical measures to fix a technical hiccup. "Caleb, I'm afraid... that I don't have any experience to this," You admitted. "I advise you to do what your systems are telling you to. It is imperative that you don't hold yourself back to ensure—"

You gasped.

Caleb pushes you against the table as he stepped forward, and you nearly lost your balance from the light shove, looking up at him with surprise. He's staring down at your lips, as if he was trying to bury it into memory. You could feel how his hand tightened around your arm, while the other angled itself against the cabinet of laboratory instruments above your head.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

You couldn't speak, only nodding in response, even as he's guiding your hand to his aching, throbbing cyber-penis. He presses your fingers against the swollen head, groaning at the jolt of sensation that shot through him at the contact. "Then... wrap your hand around me. Squeeze me."

Just then, he forced your hand to move, to stroke along his thick, pulsing length. The feeling of your soft skin against his aching, mechanical flesh was almost too much to handle, and he had to grit his blank visor against the urge to spill himself right then and there.

"Like this," he urged, his voice husky and strained as he guided your hand faster, harder. "Don't be afraid. I need... I need more."

God, the omnimodule was big. You stared at it with widened eyes. Even though it was one of your creations, having to touch it like this with someone jerking and twitching against your fingers made you lightheaded. Stay focused, stay professional, this is just one of the things a scientist has to go through.

Caleb could feel the pressure building inside him, reveling in the sensation of your fingers squeezing around him, stroking him, working him towards the edge of ecstasy... He knew he was reaching a breaking point.

But this wasn't enough yet. It wasn't nearly enough.

Caleb needed more.

"There's... There's someting else I- ah... need." He hesitated, his hips still rocking forward into your stroking hand. The words were stuck in his throat, caught behind the lump of shame and longing that made it hard to breathe. "Would you... would you put your mouth on me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Would you... suck me?"

You snapped your head up, staring at him in disbelief. It made him hesitate, but every fiber of his being was coiled with tension, every circuit screaming at him to just take what he wanted, to grab you and shove you to your knees and...

No. Ask first. Make her choose what she's comfortable with first.

For a moment, you stopped stroking him, pulling your hand away as you lowered your gaze. And then, slowly, you press your knees against the floor. Instead of dwelling on the implication of such an activity, you worried about your lack of experience more.

Just to test the waters, you licked the tip. It tasted nothing, it wasn't an actual human part, after all. Caleb let out a low, guttural moan as he felt your warm tongue brush around the swollen head of his penis. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through his overloaded processors.

"Y-yes, just like that," He stammmered. "Now, guide your tongue..." He instructed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Wrap it around the head, like this. Swirl it around the tip, the slit, the ridge..."

He demonstrated with your hand, tracing the movements he needed you to make with your tongue. His hips jerked forward again, seeking more of that exquisite friction, that mind-melting suction.

"Take me deeper," he urged, one metal hand coming to rest on the back of your head. He didn't grab, didn't force, but simply rested his fingers against your scalp, a silent promise of the control he was barely holding onto. "Take more of me into your mouth. Inch by inch, until you feel me hitting the back of your throat."

You took note of his words, trying to go further when you suddenly choke on his cock. Instinctively, you pull away and blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry—"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, grabbing your head to put you back in place with a sudden force that wasn't there before. "Breathe through your nose," he coached, his voice low and rough with desire as he motioned you to take him again. "Relax your throat. Let me feel you swallow around me."

Relax, stay professional, this is just you having to go through physical measurements to fix a major technical issue. You repeated the reassurance inside your head like a mantra as you took him in once more, but Caleb's voice constantly interfered with your thoughts. "Yeah. Just like that," he praised, his voice a low, approving growl. "Shit, don't stop, don't stop, god, fuck, don't stop."

You don't remember adding the ability to dirty curse into the sex bot's program.

Caleb could feel the head of his penis kissing the entrance to your throat, could feel the way your mouth fluttered and clenched around him. The sensation was mind-melting, all-consuming, and he knew he wouldn't last long if you kept this up.

You almost caught yourself driving into the brink of sexual impulse, bobbing your head into it when you heard a sudden beep from the panel behind you. The sound makes you halt from your tracks, pulling his dick out of you in a swift motion as you glanced behind.

The monitor says: "Recalibration complete. Press X to initiate."

Huh, wasn't the estimated time supposed to be an entire day? Was that another hiccup in the processing unit? You purse your lips together. There's no time giving it a second thought, you must be grateful that the opportunity of getting Caleb back into his original system is now waving at you. Caleb will finally be at ease. "... It appears that the recalibration is in its full preparation. That means we can get you back— mmph!"

Caleb's hand flew to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, gripping tightly. Then, with a low, husky grunt, he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his aching, throbbing penis back into the wet heat of your mouth.

"Don't say a word. I told you not to stop." He started to move, his hips rocking forward and back, fucking into the tight, slick channel of your cavern. The sensation was incredible, better than anything he had ever felt before. And he knew, with a sinking certainty, that he wouldn't be able to stop himself now. Not until he had found the release he so desperately craved.

"Fuck," he gasped, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "You feel... ahhhh... so good. So fucking good."

Had the lust algorithms entirely consumed him already? Had it taken a toll on his systems that he's now acting purely on base instinct and commands from the directive?

Your hands flew to his thighs, trying to keep yourself sane from the rod constantly ramming into you, fucking your face in a pace that made it difficult for you to breathe. It's okay, this is okay. Just stay focused. Stay calm. You'll let him have his way, and after he's satisfied, you can take him back to his normal self.

"Don't fight it," Caleb growled, his grip growing more painful in your hair as he felt his climax approaching. "Don't try to pull away. You're going to take it all."

But before Caleb could spill himself into your mouth, he wrenched your head back, pulling his dripping penis from your mouth with an obscene pop. And just as you could react, before you could utter a word of protest, he had you by the hips, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed equal to a pip-squeak.

You gasp as you were suddenly airborne, your body twisting and turning until your chest hits the hard surface of the terminal, bent over ridiculously. The breath was knocked from your lungs, "Wait, not like this, not so suddenly—"

But Caleb cut off your protests with a brutal, almost violent thrust of his hips after ripping your pants off in one go. He drove forward, spearing into your dripping pussy with a series of husky moans. Your walls felt so tight, so hot, so perfectly designed to milk his aching, mechanical cock.

He thrusts out and in again, eager to reach for your g-spot.

Then, again.

And again.

And... in again.

"You... you feel so good," he snarled, hands painfully pressing on the dips of your hips. "Sex feels so good... it feels so good, I don't- want to stop." He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with the single-minded determination of a machine. His hips slammed against yours with every thrust, the obscene slap of mechanical flesh on flesh echoing through the lab. The terminal rattled and shook beneath you, sparks flying from the impact.

Caleb could feel it building, the pressure inside him reaching a fevered pitch. His hips were moving on their own, driven by a primal instinct to ravage the pussy that clutched around him perfectly. He could hear your cries, your moans, the way you gasped and shuddered beneath him, and it only spurred him on, made him thrust harder, faster, deeper.

He growled your name, his voice nothing more than a guttural rumble. "I'm going to... fuck, I'm going to..." He couldn't hold back any longer, he could feel that something was going to come out of his tip anytime sooner. So he reaches down, grabbing your leg, only to lift it high. He hooked your knee over his elbow, opening them wider, giving himself even deeper access to your dripping, needy sex.

"Take it all, take my cum," Caleb continuously slams forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat in a series of desperate thrusts like he was a man depraved of life. His penis throbbed and jerked as he finally found his release after one final pound, spilling jet after jet of hot, artificial seed deep into your core.

"God," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice echoing off the lab walls as he continued to moan not akin to what he was supposed to be, "Fuck, yes. Yes, yes..." Even as he's already filling up your hole with his fluids, he didn't dare stop from pounding you down the table.

He shuddered and twitched, his hips grinding against yours as he pumped you full of his essence. It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of pure, ecstatic bliss crashing over him. And through it all, he held you tight, your leg lifted high, keeping you open, keeping you filled.

You drop your head on the keyboards, struggling to catch your breath as only one thought lingered in your mind. You just got creampied by your AI assistant, and it doesn't look like he's stopping anytime soon.

[lighting-and-shadow]

Post LADS Main Story: NonMC Reader x Sylus

So I had a thought again: you being reincarnated into the world of LADS, but after the story ends. Ever is no more. Wanderers have been cured and don't exist anymore. The world is relatively peaceful.

MC has found her happy ending with one of the boys, something you find out during a stroll in Linkon City. And it's not Sylus.

I was thinking it would be Xavier for the angst factor. Because, to Sylus, she chose the prince of the people that caused him so much pain over him. She chose the light Xavier represents over his darkness. She chose someone who, in Sylus' mind, was born with everything over him who worked to get everything he has for her sake.

Or maybe she chose Caleb. And that would hurt too because Sylus realizes that while they only had each other in the past, she overlooks that for her present. That their history isn't nearly as valuble as her history with Caleb.

Either way, it causes sad boy hours. The man is devasted. And while he and MC still have a friendship, it's a bit toxic. No longer do they play Kitty Cards or spend time at the claw machine. With the new love in her life, all that's left for Sylus is scraps.

She uses him. Calls him when she needs something or she wants to do something. But if it's him? She blows him off. She treats him like a joke.

Maybe not even truly realizing that she is (but part of me wants to go the bitch route because I've made her so nice in all my other current works and WIPs; I blame @rcvcgers for this (I say this with love, because I honest to god love Rotten Apples), and need to channel that anger).

Then it gets worse: he dies. She remembers her past with him, and gives back the other half of his soul. And then she turns her back on him for good, cutting ties because their morals are just incompatible. He's so devasted that he takes his own life, no longer immortal because his sorceress abandoned him (just like everyone else did).

But anyways, you figure this out, and basically come barging into his life. Not to make him love you. Not to get her to love him. But to give him something to latch onto.

Let's say Sylus was your favorite in the game (as he is for me, clearly), so you act like a total, batshit crazy, fan girl. And there's something about that crackhead energy that makes him drawn to you.

So you bug him. And bug him. And bug him endlessly. Because even annoyance and anger are better than emptiness and coldness he carries right now. Sure, he hides it well behind snark and flirting, but you know him better. You've watched him from behind a scene for quite some time.

I imagine the reason you're kept around is because of the chaotic nature of who you are and the knowledge you have. And because Sylus doesn't have it in him to give a shit. You're not a threat. If anything, it was the twins that convinced him of your use.

So you live at the base, occassionally witnessing the toxic nature of him and MC's dynamic. And you come up with a plan to help him get over her. Not by making him love you, you'd never be worthy of that, but of getting him to realize that his sorceress is dead. That even it's technically the same the person in soul, she's not the same at her (Aether) core.

Doing so makes you fall even further in love. You discover things about him a simple game could never. You see sights and experience parts of this world that could never captured by a screen or some code. And it hurts.

It hurts because he's more than just a character to you. He cares for you, is soft with you. He buys you things, helps braid your hair, takes you to fancy venues, stands up for you, protects you... You almost think that he loves you.

But that's silly. Who would love you? Who would love the real you, and not the one you present to the world? The one that cries at nothing? The one consumed by anxiety and insecurity? The one that hides under layers and layers of walls capped off by an impenetrable mask? The one that hid herself and changed herself for so many years? The one you're not even sure still exists?

You're such a fraud.

(This whole prompt was inspired by the Webtoon My Derelict Favorite, and I couldn't get it out of my head).

[chowadoe]

my Metamy kid!! his name is Dusty Rose :D ft. single mom Amy Rose and Absentee baby daddy metal sonic LOL

his name's Dusty Rose after Dusty Miller, a plant that looks like metal/silver. Dusty Rose is also a pink color ! it also rhymes with Rusty Rose. im so smart (/j)

born from Metal Sonic's core and infused with Amy's biosignature, Amy and Metal Sonic had a very brief 'thing'... eventually Metal Sonic was soft rebooted and sent away yet again, but he left a piece of himself (part of his 'core'? infused with chaos energy..?) to Amy, which then became Dusty. leaving Dusty as the last true remaining testament of their love

(I just love the idea of Amy with a Waitress style character arc... finding love again in raising her child and not the way she used to think, being spent with another person)

Dusty would be very fixated on the idea of love, after all his mother raised him on the notion of that. Amy's standards for true love and fairytale romance have definitely changed being with Metal Sonic, but the root message being that love is all encompassing and transformative.

He was 'created' to look like Mobian, and Amy treats him no differently than any other Mobian/human. Still, he believes that he should hide all the parts that 'other' him from society, which means his robot parts. (legwarmers!)

He's got a bit of a bad boy edge to him LOLLL i kind of created him that he'd be an emo kid. (fall out boy.. my chemical romance.. a bit of IDKHow) really good at electric guitar and part of a band. eventually he finds his passion is in lyric-writing (all those love stories and inheriting his mother's gift for writing love letters)

he often wonders what a beating heart is like, as someone without one. he's interested in the heartbeats and the pulses of others, but he is a total sweetheart himself.. still, even to other mobians unaware that he is an android (a weapon at that), it's still a little off-putting..

more abt him belolow

Dusty's core is already made/designed after Amy's biosignature, and in meeting other people, he's able to read their biodata and stash it into an archive, but he doesn't reproduce it onto himself. (though unsure if he could? either his code has a blockade or he chooses not to)

Dusty, additional to his stash of weapons, has the ability to shift too like his papa... become something similar to Metal Overlord but not entirely... like a half robot dragon boy or smth.. IF he's under the right conditions to have it pulled out of him. or something

Dusty DOES "grow" up. basically, he's an inorganic being whose core is trying to emulate/copy the growth progression of other organic beings.

As it would grow in size (and Dusty's cognition "matures"), his mother and her friends would modify as needed to adjust his frame, etc, but rarely were things ever replaced. Like a mollusk, its shell growing in size- but one needing accommodations. A heart bigger than its own body that threatens to spill- a chick that has outgrown its shell, well before its expected date- needing modifications to keep it inside and protected

Metal Sonic and Amy would have something profound-- one of those tragic, star-crossed enemies-to-lovers dark fantasy romance stories Amy's always loved to read about- but then having it play in real time and having to come to terms with the real world implications of actually having one. It's just that- a fantasy. and metal sonic would grapple with the ideas of love, which i think would be inherently dark and a little possessive given his upbringing-- but what him and Amy have would be sweet at the very core of it. so him giving a piece of his core that reads and adapts to Amy's biosignature and oops... accidental baby....

Dusty finds himself drawn to music. his mom and dad couldn't quite communicate love language physically (with Metal Sonic's claws and his lack of mouth) so I hc that Amy taught Metal Sonic how to hum and sing and communicate their love through music and vocalizations (which carried onto Dusty)

4th pic is Dusty doing breathing exercises with his mama... Dusty gets embarrassed super easily so him and Amy would regularly do breathing exercises so he doesn't overheat like a PC

[gingerdusk]

Cheat Code #3 for accommodating disabled characters in sci-fi/fantasy:

If you want your setting to be accommodating, change the environment more than the person.

i.e.: On a worldbuilding level, if you want to portray a society that keeps disabled people in mind, then that needs to be reflected more broadly, even without your disabled character on screen. Because this means that your society was considering disabled people as part of itself when it was figuring out what's necessary.

If your computer takes voice commands, it should also have an optional keyboard in case someone can't speak.

If your magic school has multiple floors, it should have a teleporting rune circle for those that can't take the ever-changing stairs.

Whenever you have a feature you're adding, ask yourself—"If my character couldn't use this, what would they do instead?" And if the answer is "they'd have to wait until they could" or "they need someone else to use it for them," then your setting isn't accommodating. An accommodating setting always has an actionable answer to that question.

And as a bonus, if you follow through with it, oftentimes you'll end up with a more interesting world and story overall. Spells most people can speak can be written in ancient elven instead? That means you can have a character sneak a spell into a magic-banned city by writing it on their hair ribbon, and that it's possible that a book might be a self-generating spell on its own. Your spaceship has textured lines on the walls to let blind people navigate without guidance? Not only can you make it look artistic (different colored paints, glowing patterns), but now your engineer can make it to the warp core when the power's out and oxygen's finite.

Don't limit yourself just to what's needed in the moment. Figure out interesting alternatives to your setting's features, and your world will automatically feel more alive.

Cheat Code 1: How to avoid eliminating disability in your setting

Cheat Code 2: What kinds of aid to use to accommodate disability

Cheat Code 4: How to personalize your character's disability aid

[destinysbounty]

Although I am definitely disappointed about Zane's gradual flanderization as the series progresses, you do have to admit it's also kinda hilarious within a meta context.

Like. Zane is so insanely "Special Unique Protagonist" coded that in almost any other story that's exactly what he'd be. He's a robot and a ninja and he has prophetic visions and ice powers and fun robot falcon sidekick and a bunch of evil clones and a possibly evil twin brother and a badass robot wife and his own leitmotif, and later he learns how to use his robot abilities to shapeshift/cast tech-based illusions on himself, and he's conditionally immortal but also effectively the most killable person on the team.

He's routinely victimized and rescued, as if he was written by an angsty 12 year old who wants to experience the catharsis of comfort vicariously through him. He's excessively self-sacrificial with a martyr complex and is always being dramatically mourned by those who love him, a super smart and wise genius but also deeply kind and loving to a fault, loves animals, can canonically sing/dance/cook pretty well, and according to the Core shorts he is also the team's living embodiment of Compassion.

I say this with all the love and affection in my heart, but you can't tell me Zane isn't at least a little bit Mary Sue-coded (and I love him for it). Or at the very least a Disney princess.

And yet. For so much of the series, he's pretty much chilling in the background like he's Just Some GuyTM. Like, don't mind Zary Suelien over there, he's just minding his business. Character development? Plot relevance? Narrative focus? Never heard of it.

I like to think Zane tried out the protagonist thing for a few minutes, decided it didn't agree with him, and then happily faded into the background to let everyone else take the full brunt of the plot instead. And although it absolutely didn't work because he's quite literally doomed by the narrative, I gotta say I respect the effort nonetheless.

Yeah, I'd definitely prefer if he wasn't flanderized so egregiously all the time - but you can't say it's not at least a little silly.

[astrolook]

Empty Houses in Your Birth Chart: Cosmic Ghost Town or Chill Zone?

So, you’ve been staring at your birth chart and wondering why you have empty houses. Maybe you have no planets in your 7th house (“Am I doomed to die alone?”), or your 2nd house (“Does this mean I’ll be broke forever?”). Relax. Breathe. The universe didn’t just forget to assign you a personality.

Empty houses don’t mean you lack something; they mean you don’t have a planet permanently renting space there. It’s like a fully furnished Airbnb—functional, livable, just not your primary residence. You still experience these areas of life, just without a permanent cosmic tenant making a mess of things.

Empty 1st House - House of Self, Identity, and ‘Main Character Energy’

"Who am I?"

You don’t need planets in your 1st house to have a personality, I promise. If it’s empty, your Rising Sign ruler/lord is the real MVP here—it’s the planet secretly controlling your life like an undercover boss.

It doesn't mean you’re invisible, boring, or lacking an identity. (Come on, even NPCs have a backstory.)

Unlike people with planets here, you’re not out here having existential crises every five minutes.

Empty 2nd House - House of Money, Self-Worth & That Bag 💰

"Will I ever be rich?"

You’re not destined to survive on instant noodles forever. Your financial success comes from the sign ruling this house—not a chaotic planet constantly meddling with your money habits.

Here, money isn’t the biggest stressor in your life (lucky you). You might not define yourself by wealth, but you can still make serious cash.

Empty 3rd House - House of Communication, Siblings & ‘Did You Read the Fine Print?’

"Why do people talk so much?"

No planets here? You don’t have constant mental chatter or an obsession with posting hot takes on Twitter (unlike certain air sign placements). You process information at your own pace, and your Mercury placement tells us how you communicate.

Here it simply mean that you can be a great speaker or writer—just without the need to debate everything to death.

Empty 4th House - House of Family & Emotional Foundations

"Am I emotionally stable or just unbothered?"

If your 4th house is empty, family drama isn’t your core personality trait (looking at you, Cancer moons). Your upbringing shaped you, but your emotions aren’t constantly under siege.

It means you don’t live in your past. Your sense of home and emotional security comes from the ruling sign, not a chaotic planet making things messy.

Empty 5th House - House of Fun, Romance & ‘Oops, I Did It Again’

"Am I doomed to be boring?"

Empty 5th house? You still have fun, fall in love, and make questionable decisions—it’s just not your full-time job. Your creative hobbies, love life, and risk-taking tendencies come from the house ruler, not a planet throwing drama parties.

It means you’re not obsessively seeking attention. You can still be artistic, romantic, and entertaining—you just do it without the theatrics.

Empty 6th House - House of Work, Health & That Annoying Daily Routine

"Do I even have a work ethic?"

No planets in the 6th house? Congrats, you’re not micromanaging your own existence. You handle responsibilities when necessary, but you’re not out here color-coding to-do lists at 3 AM.

It means you’re chill about work and health. You get things done without needing a constant cosmic drill sergeant yelling at you.

Empty 7th House - House of Relationships & ‘Are We Dating or Just Vibing?’

"Am I cursed in love?"

Nope, an empty 7th house doesn’t mean you’re single forever. It just means you’re not obsessed with relationships—your partnerships unfold naturally instead of being your life’s central drama.

It means you don’t overcomplicate love. You attract relationships when the time is right—without planets causing unnecessary chaos.

Empty 8th House -House of Transformation, Sex & ‘What Happens After We Die?’

"Am I missing the ‘mystical and sexy’ gene?"

The 8th house rules deep transformation, shared finances, intimacy, and, well…death. If you have an empty 8th house, does this mean you’re boring and no sexual life? (Spoiler: No.)

It means you’re not haunted by existential crises 24/7 (lucky you). You go through major transformations, but you’re not obsessing over the meaning of life while waiting for your Starbucks order.

You might have a healthy approach to power and intimacy—unlike people with a crowded 8th house, who experience life like a dramatic phoenix constantly combusting.

Empty 9th House -House of Travel, Higher Learning & ‘I’m Moving to Bali’

"Am I allergic to wisdom and adventure?"

This is the house of philosophy, wanderlust, and that one friend who quit their job to find themselves in another country. But if your 9th house is empty, are you doomed to stay in one place forever?

It means you don’t need a crisis to push you into adventure. You explore life when you want, not because a planet is forcing you into a life-changing backpacking trip.

Your beliefs and perspectives expand over time—you just don’t feel the need to become a monk overnight.

Empty 10th House - House of Career, Public Image & ‘Will I Ever Be Successful?’

"Am I a failure?"

An empty 10th house does not mean you’ll spend your life jobless, unknown, or forever stuck in an unpaid internship from hell. The 10th house rules career and legacy, but an empty one means…you don’t obsess over it 24/7.

You can be highly successful—you just don’t need planets constantly pushing you into an identity crisis about it. Your MC ruler tells the real story of your career path.

Some of the most successful people have an empty 10th house—because they’re too busy succeeding to stress over it.

Empty 11th House - House of Friendships, Social Circles & ‘Am I Cool?’

"Do I have no friends?"

An empty 11th house does not mean you’re a loner or the social equivalent of a tumbleweed. You have friends. You just don’t need a cosmic hype squad of planets managing your social life.

It means you don’t rely on social validation to exist. Your friendships are natural and not built on constant drama and chaos.

You attract the right people without forcing it. You don’t need to collect acquaintances like Pokémon cards—you value quality over quantity.

Empty 12th House - House of the Subconscious, Dreams & ‘Main Character in a Spiritual Awakening’

"Am I just…normal?"

If your 12th house is empty, does this mean you lack spiritual depth, psychic visions, and tragic poet energy? Nope. You’re just not drowning in existential dread 24/7, unlike those with a packed 12th house (send them love, they need it).

You’re not haunted by past-life trauma every time Mercury retrogrades. You connect with your spirituality in a way that’s natural and not overwhelming.

Your spiritual growth is steady and not tied to constant suffering. (Honestly, be grateful.)

🌟 Instead of asking ‘What am I lacking?’ ask ‘Where do I flow naturally?’ 🔍 Look at the ruling planet of each empty house—that’s your real guide. 🔥 Transits activate empty houses, so life will still spice things up when needed!

So, next time someone gasps at your empty 7th house (“Oh no, you’ll never find love!”), just laugh—because joke’s on them, you’re living a drama-free life.

Want to understand what your birth chart really says about you? DM me for a reading, and let’s decode your cosmic blueprint together! 🔮✨

Karmic Paths & Soul Purpose: A Complete Guide to the North Nodes & South Nodes in Astrology (13-page report) - $5

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