oy84

[oy84]

JUNE 22ND WEEKLY (+18) NSFW MAGMA SESSION NOW UP!!!

Welcome welcome! Please check the rules before joining ^_^

���️BOARD RULES⭐️

✦Be polite and respectful on chat and don't pressure anyone into joining if they don't want to. ✦You are free to join, leave and rejoin at any point during the session, as long as the canvas is still active. ✦Do not ask artists to draw things unless they have explicitly asked for art requests or ideas. ✦Do not draw explicit "Dead Dove" content in the shared canvas. ✦Keep the focus of your art to Hermitcraft and the Life Series, or related MCYT creators or series. ✦Be mindful of the amount of space you use for drawing. While some art overlap will inevitably happen and it can make the canvas more fun, please avoid taking up more space than you need or interfering with other artists.

[If you have any questions or suggestions for other rules to help make the magmas better, let me know!]

ALSO IF YOU PLAN ON POSTING YOUR ART I'D LOVE IT IF YOU COULD TAG ME ON IT!!!

[oy84]

I have been cursed by the WIP curse by @sammelquest Haven't been writing a lot lately - been busy working on confrence paper which I'll be attending this coming week - but anyhow, started writing something inspired by @tiredfoxtf's lovely art that I want to finish when I pop back out of academia. NSFW: Bdsm, mild force femme, fantasy au [HoM]

Joel hates wizards. Really hates wizards. 

But he especially hates the Overlord of the Deep Frost Citadel. 

“Better luck next time hero…” Tango smirks - bitterly cold in how mocking he sounds. 

He has made it further than ever before. Spit in the face of the Overlord’s challenge, of his machinations and traps. In spite of the bitter chill from the blackened brick seeping into his bones, he made it to the citadel’s depths. Made it so close to victory only to succumb to the dark, emerging in the hold of the dungeon’s Overlord - stripped of his armour and weapons. 

Half stripped of his garments too - although he imagines Tango wants the satisfaction of fully disrobing him when he can witness the humiliation. 

“A pretty thing like you is wasted running my gauntlet, Tango’s finger feels like a knife about to split his chin open when he drags it up his jaw, “you’re much better utilised here. A trophy piece, an arrogant little prize to be won by real adventurers.” Joel wants more than anything to bite his hand off. 

Grian’s breath was eerily cool against his neck, his arms softly authoritative in how he held his chest. That was he found himself after his failure, Tango leaning down to sneer and mock while held in Grian’s resolute arms. That was what they had tentatively agreed upon. 

Glazed purple eyes like polished amethysts set in onyx - watching this humiliation unfold, watching someone getting rimmed half a world away, he’s watching it all. That was kind of his thing. Pervert. 

He’s just breathing him in. A placid creature on his back, arms effortlessly kept him in place despite how much he barked and struggled. Grian squeezes him as Joel tries to jump at Tango, biting like a rabid dog. It feels like he was being crushed in the great stone arms of a solemn statue - eyes blank and smooth, lifeless but always following him. Standing eternal. 

 He was present, despite being everywhere. He is so present that it hurts Joel - something about watching it all and choosing to focus on him above all - he could feel Grian’s heart, steady and cool, against his back. 

It is agonising. Like a hammer to his spine. 

“Pretty girl, you aren’t going anywhere. No matter how much you fight and struggle, you want this,” Grian’s voice is dreadfully soft on his ear, cascading over his mind in ethereal waves.

It is a quiet promise. A whispered reassurance - Grian would be with him every step of the way. Grian feels the way his heart beats in tandem with his own and he knows Joel understands, even as his attention is consumed with Tango - snarling up at the overlord in delightful defiance. 

“Now, now, how very unbecoming of a damsel needing rescue, because that’s what you are now my dear -” a tertiary thread of the arcane coiled around his neck like garrote wire - like a collar. Tango pulls on the strand of tangible magic, tugs Joel towards him, demands his attention and obedience. He only gets one of those. Doesn’t get more than a low rumbling growl and eyes full of fury. “-a pretty prize, a helpless princess at the mercy of the dark lord of the Deep Frost Citadel.” 

“Fuck you snowcone! You know, it’s pretty cringe to talk about yourself in the third person right?” Joel spits defiantly, an abrasive growl of a smirk while squirming in Grian’s paradoxically lax yet inescapable hold. Tango’s hand seizes his chin like he’s some game animal for him to inspect - bitter chill of fingers leaving little specks of rime where they did deepest - while Joel tries his hardest to act like he wasn’t enjoying this. Because he totally wasn’t. 

“Seems the princess needs to be reminded of her manners, this is simply not the proper decorum one expects of such a pretty thing like you,” the way Tango calls him princess shouldn’t be so hot. Shouldn’t make his spine ripple with want. 

The Overlord of Deep Frost Citadel lets his fingers dig into the jaw and chin of his new trophy. Quiet surprise flashes across his face - he half expects Joel to tap out but he doesn’t. Keep his blazing eyes affixed on the hooded mage, clearly hoping he would somehow gain the ability to make Tango spontaneously combust. 

Well-before the numbing fury of the cold can cause any real damage, Tango removes his hand and turns his back to the warrior - he didn’t actually want to hurt Joel. In the frozen still of the dungeon, he worries about Joel, if it was too hard, too soft, unsatisfactory - very unbecoming of the dark overlord he was supposed to be playing but he wanted to give Joel everything he has, show him a good time. 

In the reflection of a large ice crystal, he can see Joel’s head sag, earthy mane of hair covering his features, body shivering fiercely. Ever attentive, Grian loses his already lax hold, and lets Joel soak in his natural body heat, a hushed conversation checking in Tango is not overly privy to. That reassures him, especially with Grian flashing a little sign - all good. 

Then, he hears an echo of Grian in his head, feels the words strung up his brain stem, a ghost of being against his back.

And you. Are you okay? The words wrap around his mind like a hug from an old friend. 

Yes. Green - is that right? I’m a-okay to keep - he can feel Grian snicker at his flustered little check in. 

Correct, see, you’re a natural. If you need to stop or slow down, just say. 

Tango takes a breath and nods. 

“Grian, would you be a dear and help the dumb princess into the maiden,” The bitter chill in Tango’s voice sends a shiver down his spine - the subtle warmth that lifts his voice when he addresses Grian is shredded by a domineering blizzard as he turns the subject to Joel. 

“Of course, come now your majesty,” 

What is the maiden? 

He’s not left waiting long for an answer.  Leading him like a lamb to slaughter, Grian presents Joel before the maiden and he’s almost ashamed of the little shuddering sound and way blush spreads across his cheek like a nasty bruise. 

… to be continued

[oy84]

JUNE 15TH WEEKLY NSFW MAGMA SESSION NOW UP!!!

Happy Daddies day to all who celebrate!!!

Welcome welcome! Please check the rules before joining ^_^

⭐️BOARD RULES⭐️

✦Be polite and respectful on chat and don't pressure anyone into joining if they don't want to. ✦You are free to join, leave and rejoin at any point during the session, as long as the canvas is still active. ✦Do not ask artists to draw things unless they have explicitly asked for art requests or ideas. ✦Do not draw explicit "Dead Dove" content in the shared canvas. ✦Keep the focus of your art to Hermitcraft and the Life Series, or related MCYT creators or series. ✦Be mindful of the amount of space you use for drawing. While some art overlap will inevitably happen and it can make the canvas more fun, please avoid taking up more space than you need or interfering with other artists.

[If you have any questions or suggestions for other rules to help make the magmas better, let me know!]

ALSO IF YOU PLAN ON POSTING YOUR ART I'D LOVE IT IF YOU COULD TAG ME ON IT!!!

[oy84]

JUNE 8TH WEEKLY NSFW MAGMA SESSION NOW UP!!!

Welcome welcome! Please check the rules before joining ^_^

⭐️BOARD RULES⭐️

✦Be polite and respectful on chat and don't pressure anyone into joining if they don't want to. ✦You are free to join, leave and rejoin at any point during the session, as long as the canvas is still active. ✦Do not ask artists to draw things unless they have explicitly asked for art requests or ideas. ✦Do not draw explicit "Dead Dove" content in the shared canvas. ✦Keep the focus of your art to Hermitcraft and the Life Series, or related MCYT creators or series. ✦Be mindful of the amount of space you use for drawing. While some art overlap will inevitably happen and it can make the canvas more fun, please avoid taking up more space than you need or interfering with other artists.

[If you have any questions or suggestions for other rules to help make the magmas better, let me know!]

ALSO IF YOU PLAN ON POSTING YOUR ART I'D LOVE IT IF YOU COULD TAG ME ON IT!!!

[oy84]

the magical solution to long distance horniness when your boyfriend is an adventurous adventurer and you and your other boyfriend are mages of incomprehensible power - Etho/Tango/Jimmy Heights of Magic Fic

Height of Magic plushophilia/portal fucking fic part 1 out now!

Etho and Tango are missing their beloved adventurer and go about dealing with that irresponsiable levels of arcane mastery.

Word Count: 4k

AO3 Link

[oy84]

BANGER ALERT

the magical solution to long distance horniness when your boyfriend is an adventurous adventurer and you and your other boyfriend are mages of incomprehensible power - Etho/Tango/Jimmy Heights of Magic Fic

Height of Magic plushophilia/portal fucking fic part 1 out now!

Etho and Tango are missing their beloved adventurer and go about dealing with that irresponsiable levels of arcane mastery.

Word Count: 4k

AO3 Link

[oy84]

questing for gender euphoria and 'affordable' top surgery - SlabTek Fantasy AU Fic

The overlord and ancient mage go on a quest to slay a dragon.

First fic in the Heights of Magic AU inspired by a idea suggested by @crownpastelyellow. Do2 Tango as the dark overlord as Deep Frost Citadel and Etho as an ancient powerful mage who is only a little washed.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3.4k

[oy84]

questing for gender euphoria and 'affordable' top surgery - SlabTek Fantasy AU Fic

The overlord and ancient mage go on a quest to slay a dragon.

First fic in the Heights of Magic AU inspired by a idea suggested by @crownpastelyellow. Do2 Tango as the dark overlord as Deep Frost Citadel and Etho as an ancient powerful mage who is only a little washed.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3.4k

[oy84]

[gribeans... or something...]

(for the lovely @four-crows-in-a-trenchcoat whos been very tolerant and very indulgent with my xisuma ideas...)

[oy84]

[gribeans... or something...]

(for the lovely @four-crows-in-a-trenchcoat whos been very tolerant and very indulgent with my xisuma ideas...)

[oy84]

Techsuma Snippet

Wrote this for the lovely @oy84 because void is helping me terraform a rock in minecraft < 3

A slow day. A lazy day. Too hot to do anything. 

Well, not everything.

Pleasure swirls in long meandering strokes across his chest. Xisuma’s tongue lapping at his nipple, flicking the tender nub with a relaxed smile, effortlessly flowing with the rise and fall of Techno's chest. 

Humming with satisfaction, deep monotone sound of pleasure reverberating in his throat, Techno’s worn hands knead down Xisuma’s back, unravels the knots and tense agonies from work - pushes his body down against him, gets their cocks rutting against one another. A choir of pleasure passes between them, breathy deep sounds of pleasure strung within the sloppy sound of flesh against flesh.  

His hole clenches around the dildo, greedily sucks on it and pulls it into himself. But he never steals it from Xisuma, not fully, that would be barbaric. He squeezes the silicone hungrily, milking it nice and deep - each defined vein and ridge rippling echoing pleasant sensations up his spine. 

Breath flutters out of his throat as Xisuma’s lips leave his nipple with a wet, satisfied plop. Techno’s hole relaxes, grinding upwards: Xisuma wet against him, feeling his cock twitch and flutter as he slurps up the dildo. The length sliding between them, in and out, rutting against one another with a relaxed ease. 

Before Xisuma turns to slobber over Techno’s other nipple, his thumbs run along the ragged scars running under his pectorals, glistening with the sweat of a summer. Quiet reverence for each bump, each harsh expanse struck across his skin like a ravine. Burying his face in the tuft of hair in Techno’s cleavage, Xisuma can feel each breath, each rhythmic thump of his heart; breathing in his musk, woodsy and earthy notes with something rich buried beneath - like a truffle hiding in the mud. 

Techno is happy to let him, hands exploring down to the small of Xisuma’s back, settling into the divet of his hips. It’s easy enough to squeeze him, to listen to the little shiver of pleasure catching against his lips as Techno gently rocks him on the dildo while rubbing out the little knots of tension. 

It’s a slow day. A lazy day. 

They could keep this going for a while. 

[oy84]

Techsuma Snippet

Wrote this for the lovely @oy84 because void is helping me terraform a rock in minecraft < 3

A slow day. A lazy day. Too hot to do anything. 

Well, not everything.

Pleasure swirls in long meandering strokes across his chest. Xisuma’s tongue lapping at his nipple, flicking the tender nub with a relaxed smile, effortlessly flowing with the rise and fall of Techno's chest. 

Humming with satisfaction, deep monotone sound of pleasure reverberating in his throat, Techno’s worn hands knead down Xisuma’s back, unravels the knots and tense agonies from work - pushes his body down against him, gets their cocks rutting against one another. A choir of pleasure passes between them, breathy deep sounds of pleasure strung within the sloppy sound of flesh against flesh.  

His hole clenches around the dildo, greedily sucks on it and pulls it into himself. But he never steals it from Xisuma, not fully, that would be barbaric. He squeezes the silicone hungrily, milking it nice and deep - each defined vein and ridge rippling echoing pleasant sensations up his spine. 

Breath flutters out of his throat as Xisuma’s lips leave his nipple with a wet, satisfied plop. Techno’s hole relaxes, grinding upwards: Xisuma wet against him, feeling his cock twitch and flutter as he slurps up the dildo. The length sliding between them, in and out, rutting against one another with a relaxed ease. 

Before Xisuma turns to slobber over Techno’s other nipple, his thumbs run along the ragged scars running under his pectorals, glistening with the sweat of a summer. Quiet reverence for each bump, each harsh expanse struck across his skin like a ravine. Burying his face in the tuft of hair in Techno’s cleavage, Xisuma can feel each breath, each rhythmic thump of his heart; breathing in his musk, woodsy and earthy notes with something rich buried beneath - like a truffle hiding in the mud. 

Techno is happy to let him, hands exploring down to the small of Xisuma’s back, settling into the divet of his hips. It’s easy enough to squeeze him, to listen to the little shiver of pleasure catching against his lips as Techno gently rocks him on the dildo while rubbing out the little knots of tension. 

It’s a slow day. A lazy day. 

They could keep this going for a while. 

[oy84]

i have a drastic and vaguely sexual reaction whenever xisuma is mentioned in a non-hermitcraft video im watching

[oy84]

🌀🌀🌀YOU LOOOOVE TECHSUMA 🌀🌀🌀ITS NOT A RAREPAIR.🌀🌀🌀 🥀🥀

my piece from lovely @cupofmysteriousfluid's magma!

[WARNING: non-human biology, hybrid biology, trans-esque biology]

[:robloxdead:]

[oy84]

never fade away - Xisuma/EvilX fic

for the lovely creature who christened by askbox asking about more cyberpunk X/EX this one is for you!

C/W: graphic depiction of violence in a short flashback.

The pitter patter of the shower is almost enough to dull the sounds of gunshots down the hall. Well not dull, but it makes them seem further away. There’s some cold comfort in hearing them again. In the rabble and harsh pounding of his shitty apartment. Water pitter pattering against the raw cold carbonated black metal of his cyberware still settling into his body like a rain chime. This was his body now. There was even less of him now. 

AO3 Link

Word Count: 2.1k

The pitter patter of the shower is almost enough to dull the sounds of gunshots down the hall. Well not dull, but it makes them seem further away. There’s some cold comfort in hearing them again. In the rabble and harsh pounding of his shitty apartment. 

Water pitter pattering against the raw cold carbonated black metal of his cyberware still settling into his body like a rain chime. This was his body now. 

There was even less of him now. 

It’s the first time that thought hits him, looking at the new synth skin covering his new arms. From the front, he looks remarkably human, top grade synth skin can’t help but look slender and uncannily when he knows what it’s all a visage for. Doesn't betray the neat array of glistering chrome and bright yellow wires that snake up his arms and spine. Doesn’t betray the exposed obsidian metal endo-skeleton that houses it all now. 

He misses the arms Doc gave him. Misses his old spinal implant he had lifted from some psycho and polished off. Misses his ribs - he knew they would have to go at one point but this new chrome sits uneasy in his chest. 

Sitting on the floor of his shower, knees close to his chest, Xisuma watches the water swirl the drain with a dull unfocused gaze. 

He had always thought about jumping to tier 5 mods. What netrunner hasn’t. Save the hassle of ice baths and skull jacks. Although it’s still there, heavy metal in his skull, exposed as his hair parts and falls down in a curtain of taupe and dark byzantium ombre either side of his face. He just wishes would have had a choice. 

Fingers trace the edge of the port with a sorrowful nostalgia. EX did always like seeing him jump when he jacked in. Little fucker always made it more pleasureful then painful just to roll in the embarrassment of him moaning like a girl in one of those holovids.  

The fingers, his fingers, dark and mechanical, devoid of synth skin so as to not impede any interconnection and interfacing via a touch matrix, look alien. His old hands have been dark, but they have been smooth. He liked little rivulets of lilac running along. These new ones. Brutalist in comparison. 

How long he’s been sitting here. 

He doesn’t know. Hours, days, maybe weeks. He isn’t even running any subroutines, processors and neural interface blank, stalling. All this potential, and here he was sitting in his shower, drifting in and out of his own mind. 

The wants and needs of a humanoid body feel so far away now. And he can’t help but feel rotten about missing creature comforts. Half the runners he knows would trade their soul for this, for the raw processing rig to netrun at will, expunge and explore into the depths of the old net with all of its dark treasures. But more than the raw potential of this new body forced on him, Xisuma finds himself longing for a cigarette. 

Was there even enough of him left to smoke? 

“You’re seriously still here?” a familiar voice fizzles in his ears. Clouds of crimson data moulding itself into a vaguely ill defined humanoid shape.

Xisuma lifts his head to at least look at EX, it’s face pressed and pointedly dismal. There was some small comfort in the fact he could see him. Although if some gonk walks in they would find a out of it metalhead netrunner staring up at nothing, sitting alone in the shower. 

Still looks like him. Maybe even more so. All those months nesting in his subconscious as they tore him apart and stuffed him with chrome, Xisuma half expected EX to come out as an incomprehensible mass of code. But he had retained his shape well.  

“Corpos aren’t kind to people running off with their property and you are just sitting here. Still.” Property. That’s all he was now: lost property. Him and the little nano-syphilis picking at what’s left of his organics that is EX. 

The lack of response clearly frustrates the ai, annoyance growling through his receptors. “Can't have you withering the body beyond a usable base” 

“Is that your twisted way of telling me to take care of myself?” Xisuma leans back, skull port clanking against the rough orange vinyl of the shower. Gets a real look of EX. It had mirrored the ombre of his hair, white flowing into a red, its ends ill defined and rendered, like a cloud of half formulated assets. 

“No. I’m telling you to take care of my body.” The certainty that EX would win out and seize the body almost made X laugh. Not in a triumphant confident manner - just, something sadder, hollow. Wouldn’t matter if he did. Not that he will. 

“Aw you do care.” His own voice sounds so hollow. Defeated. But still him: and he’s quietly thankful for that. 

EX rubs its temple, a bizarrely human act from the cluster of old net code. Catches Xisuma by surprise, eyes widening just a fraction from their current half lidded sunken state. “Take a walk. It sickens me to be stuck like this.”

“It’s raining.” The irony of saying that while sitting in a shower is not lost on him. What was left to worry about getting wet. His hair. Yeah. But it was already wet. 

EX pulls low, sitting on its haunches as if it needs to conform to the limits of biology or the permeability of realspace. It presses a hand to the shower wall and leans into Xisuma’s space. Instantly a warning flashes, flinching back. 

A flash of a dark room, someone above him pulling his ribs out one by one. The smell of bone burning filling his nostrils as a circular saw whirls ravenously. His organs wet and loose in him. He can feel the eyes appraising them, deciding what to chuck and what to sell on - not like he will be needing most of them anymore - 

EX drags him from that dark. Some sort of dark angel. A mask of his own face looking at him stern but with something akin to kinship. Here they were. Not in that moment. Not in the tortuous darkness of the architects who did this to them. Two broken toys in the shower of the shittiest high rise in the city. Free. Chained together, but free. 

Construct’s hand to the side of his head, the other tilted him up by his chin to look at him. Xisuma lifts his head to look at nothing. 

It’s voice is nevertheless firm, harsh even, broadcasting into his ears. “Then take an umbrella. Put a hood on. Helmet. Just, get out of this bloody shower.” Still Xisuma can’t bring himself to move his servos. The idea of shifting in this body, this tomb, he can practically hear EX broadcasting over his neural trenches - don’t be so dramatic. Despite everything. It’s still you. Still us.

His actual words do not match the imprint left on his brain. 

“Go outside or I’m disconnecting your balls.” It seems so pitiful compared to what he has been through, it almost makes him smile in a weird way. Reminds him of how he and EX would bicker and push and pull months ago. 

“You wouldn’t,” it 10000% would. 

“How do you know I haven’t already?” The words fizzle uneasy across his cortex. He could use this new system thrust upon him to check in a nano-second. But he doesn’t. Just sits there.

The city had never felt as overstimulating as it did now. Xisuma shuffles through the horde, still flooding the streets even at this late hour. City that never sleeps. 

His hands remain in the pocket of the heavy jacket Grian had given him. Leather techware that swallows up his chest with its size. The fabric of his hood rubs uncomfortably against his skull port. The fabric scratchy against the exposed endoskeleton and wires are constantly unsettling. 

Prismatic lights of endless advertisement and business refracting in the dark, catching the downpour. His eyes struggle to adjust, often downturned to avoiding blinding himself. He moves stiffly, new body and all, but walking is like riding a bike, you somewhat never forget, but might need training wheels. 

The sounds and smells of the city clog his senses. Slow his processes like infinite programs being run simultaneously. But thanks to this new body, it’s a little easier to digest. Doesn’t get what X was throwing a fit about. 

Climbing up a fire escape, Xisuma ends up on a roof in Japantown. Looking across at the vast ravine of buildings, breathing in the thick aromatic scents of the many food stands littering the walls and intersections as a holographic koi swims the middle of the buildings like it is simply swimming down river. 

Even it could admit, this was pleasant. Beautiful even. 

“Okay, take it back.” Xisuma's eyes, stark red, roll back for a moment, until his usual purple replaces and he gasps like he’s just been drowning. His body stutters, overloaded with information 

“Never do that again!” Xisuma barks. Turns to look at EX, leaning against the railing with a blood boiling casualness - like it hadn’t just hijacked his body and piloted him out into the rain. He could still feel the ai’s code lingering under skin and bones, slowly rescinding back to his neural matrix. If he still had much of a stomach it would back its content’s paint the floor. 

“How… How long have you been able to do that.” The realisation of far EX’s infraction into his core system’s chills him to his chrome bones. 

“A time.” 

“EX!” 

The ai sighs. “Sometime you were at the facility, they accidentally removed a cerebral dampener to get you to interface with the rig better. It let me map new pathways, and well… walking is weird. In real space. So clunky.” Xisuma stares down at the labyrinth of neon below him and lets that all sink in. The dissonance between EX’s casual control of the body and its dismissive review of using makes X balk out a short, choked laugh. He is royally fucked.  

“Relax, it takes a lot out of me, not planning to take you on a joyride for a while.” The casual cruelty is what he’s come to expect of the ai. But he can see his words manifest. How the edges of it’s being rendering in through his optics are less defined, coarse and blocky. 

“Next time. Ask.”

EX chuckles. “Sure.” 

Xisuma lets the neon wash of the city flood his senses. The brightness seeming so dull after all those months away. All the life of the city inspires nothing but solemn mavelling. 

Red catches the corner of his eye. Like a truck’s headlights about to crash into him. Xisuma turns and sees EX holding a cigarette. Well, holding a construct of one. 

“Would be a shame to come all this way and not enjoy a smoke.” Xisuma inspects the digital facsimile of a cigarette EX had constructed. Data puffing out in the shape of smoke. 

Hates that he has such intimate knowledge of his thought. 

Xisuma takes nothing in his hand from nowhere - takes the cigarette from EX and stares out at the city and takes the longest drag of his life. A smile catches his lip. 

He can actually feel it fill a ghost of his lungs - instant relaxation.

Nothing comes out, but EX renders clouds of data puffing into the night sky. It’s part of the charm afterall. 

It didn’t fix anything. Or anything. Does make things feel a little less insurmountable. Comforting, even. 

Xisuma offers the digital smoke to EX. Not making eye contact, just holding it out for it. A feeling like touch ghosts his mechanical fingers as the ai takes back it’s never ending digital smoke. 

Don’t know what it does for an ai, if it bothers to run a simulation replicating the human sesnation, if it even cares for human things. Regardless, EX smokes, pantomimes it before hanging it back to Xisuma. 

While EX inhales, or some sense of it, Xisuma grinds his metal finger into the worn metal they were standing on. A grinding of sparks, metal on metal. When EX hands him back the smoke, it sees the large XV carved into the metal. Doesn't say anything, doesn't even project a thought across his cortex. Just holds the cigarette out for him. 

At least when he's gone. When the corpo's get him or EX assimilates into his body and forces his mind who knows where - some part of him will remain. Refusing to fade away. 

They just remain there. Passing a facsimille of a cigarette between them in the rain, the world going on in spite of their sufferings. Sharing a never ending digital construct, filling lungs with ghosts of sensations long desired. 

[oy84]

if you wait by the river long enough, the bodies of your enemies will float by - a TechSuma Dead Dove Fic

WARNING: This is a DEAD DOVE FIC. C/W and Link below the bar

Xisuma isn’t great about applying himself in History class. Not for lack of passion - he loves the subject. You don’t cram a subject into a packed major of a prestigious uni like Comp-Sci if you don’t like the subject. But while his grades for most of his computer classes have been exemplary - his history grades are abysmal. He is trying. Really. But… But with this absolute beefcake of a teacher, can you really blame him for slipping grades?

c/w: agegap, teacher student, watersports, intox, dubcon, hung t-dick/hyper kinda ig idk?

AO3 Link

Word Count: 5.4k

[oy84]

🌀🌀🌀YOU LOOOOVE TECHSUMA 🌀🌀🌀ITS NOT A RAREPAIR.🌀🌀🌀 🥀🥀

[:robloxdead:] (<—non-human biology)